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stories-and-such · 2 years

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These past couple of weeks had been hard on everyone. Steve refused to be within two miles of the Avengers Tower, Thor returned to Asgard and hadn’t come back, Natasha kept herself as busy as possible with training new recruits and anything else she could find, Bruce threw himself into research projects, Pepper took a lot of time off from work, and Peter, well… Peter suffered the most out of everyone. He just wasn’t the same happy kid he had been before Tony died.

Don’t get me wrong, he was still a happy kid, or at least that’s how he acted.

He practically lived at the Avengers Tower now. He went off to school in the morning, went to the Avengers Tower to work in the afternoons, sometimes he would have dinner with Pepper and Morgan in the evenings, and at night… at night was when it would hit him.

He would put on his suit and patrol the streets for a few hours, stopping any robberies or break-ins that popped up, but at around one in the morning, he would go to the top of the Empire State Building and look out over the city for a while. Then he would take off his mask, take out his phone, and look at a picture of him and Tony and he would just talk to him.

He’d tell him about his day; about the new comic he read, about how Ned would tease him about MJ, about how things were going with MJ. Anything and everything that was on his mind, he would talk to Tony about.

And then he would break. When he talked to Tony and thought about what he would be saying in response, when he thought about the jokes he would make or the sound of his laugh, or about the way he would clamp his hand down on his shoulder and tell him he was doing a good job, he would break. But then he would put his phone away, dry his tears, put on his mask and go back to the Avengers Tower where he would work on his suit for a few hours and then do it all over again.

He hardly ever slept anymore. He hated sleeping. When he closed his eyes he could see Tony in those last few moments he had with him. He would see him take his last breath and he would scream into the void, scream that it should have been him, not Mr. Stark. That the world needed Tony and not him. He screamed and he cried and he begged, but no one would listen to him. God, the Universe, whatever. No one heard him and he would wake up drenched in sweat and tears and completely out of breath. He didn’t like feeling like that, so he didn’t sleep if it could be avoided.

That was until the day he ran into Natasha.

“Ohh! I’m so sorry, Miss Romanoff,” Peter exclaimed, fumbling to clean up the mess of coffee he had spilled; none of which had made it onto Natasha’s pants, thankfully.

“It’s alright, Peter,” she smiled, taking some paper towels from him and helping him clean up. “Are you okay? You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” Peter mumbled, smiling when he heard Natasha chuckle. “I’m fine, just haven’t been sleeping much. There’s a lot to do around here.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Natasha said, throwing the wet paper towels away.

Peter hesitated and then asked, “Can I buy you another coffee?”

Natasha smiled. “No, it’s alright. Really.”

Peter blushed, still feeling really embarrassed about everything that had just happened.

“Well, I’ll catch up with you later, kid. I have to go talk to Pepper about letting me crash here for a little while,” she said, motioning towards the general direction of where Pepper’s office was.

“Ohh, is everything okay? Why do you need to stay here? If that’s okay for me to ask,” Peter rushed out, his cheeks turning bright pink again.

“Everything��s fine. I'm remodeling my kitchen so I can’t be there until they’re done.”

“Ohh,” Peter said, “okay then. I’ll get out of your hair now. Umm, I’ll see you around since I’m here a lot. I’ll try not to spill coffee on you again, though.”

Natasha laughed and started walking towards the elevator. “Bye ребенок паук.” {Spider baby}

“Way to go, Parker,” Peter muttered to himself. “You can’t be in the presence of an Avenger without making yourself look like an idiot, can you?”

***

Peter stayed in the lab until pretty late that night. He was trying to modify his web shooters without any luck; they still kept getting stuck.

In the midst of his frustration he threw the screwdriver he was using across the room and yelled, “Dammit!” The tool clashed with a glass cup, causing it to shatter and making Peter let out an exasperated sigh. He put the web shooters down on the table as calmly as he could, getting up from the table and making his way over to his bunk, two floors up from where he currently was. As much as he hated to sleep, he knew he had to try, even if for just a few hours. He was, after all, a science nerd so he was aware of the consequences of going long periods of time without sleeping.

When he made it to his room, he threw himself down on the nearest bed, passing out almost immediately.

His peaceful sleep didn’t last long. His dream started out innocent enough this time. He and Tony were playing with Morgan and Pepper; basketball. Peter and Morgan against Pepper and Tony. Everything was going great. Peter helped Morgan shoot a basket in and the rest of the Avengers, who were watching from the sidelines, cheered them on.

But then the basketball court disappeared and they were back on the battlefield, death and destruction all around them and Peter was watching as Tony took his last breath. And then it started; he was screaming into the void again, begging someone to help him save Tony, offering up his own life in between sobs.

Next thing he knew, someone was shaking him, telling him to wake up.

“Peter!” the voice said semi-softly. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

It was Natasha. Peter opened his eyes, wet with tears and finally realized that what he had seen wasn’t real. It was all a dream.

But it hadn’t just been a dream. It was real. Tony was gone and there was nothing he could do about it.

Peter sighed and tried to calm his heart rate. He was still breathing a little heavy and the tears kept rolling down his cheeks no matter how many times he wiped them away.

Natasha hated seeing him like this. The few times before today when she had seen him he looked terrible. He had lost a lot of weight, there were dark circles under his eyes, and he always seemed to be a little on edge, but whenever someone asked him if he was okay, he would smile and say he was fine.

She placed a hand on his arm and moved her thumb back and forth, telling him that he was okay now. When his breathing went back to normal, she sat on the edge of his bed and looked at him until he met her eyes.

“Are you okay?” She asked, already knowing the answer. Peter hesitated for a moment, but then shook his head, a couple more tears escaping from his eyes. Natasha reached over and wiped them away, a sort of maternal instinct taking over.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she said softly.

Peter sighed and sat up, leaning back against the metal headboard.

“I just miss him,” he said, his voice hoarse from all the screaming and crying. “I can’t close my eyes without seeing him there, dying. I feel terrible knowing that I couldn’t do anything to save him. He was always saving me and the one time it really mattered, I couldn’t do the same for him. I couldn’t help him.”

His voice faltered and his eyes glimmered with fresh tears. Natasha pulled him into a hug and squeezed him as tightly as she could without hurting him.

When she released him she placed a hand on his cheek saying, “Peter, this is not your fault. Tony was a hero; sacrificing himself in order to protect everyone else was what he did best. Nobody could have stopped him. The man was stubborn as hell, once he made up his mind it was virtually impossible to get him to change it.”

Peter smiled a little at Natasha’s words. She was right, and he knew she was right, but he still felt responsible.

“I know,” he sniffed. “I just feel like it was somehow my fault.”

Natasha moved over so she could sit right next to him. Peter moved over slightly, giving her more room.

“I get it,” she stated, the tone of her voice changing. “That’s exactly how I felt after Clint died. Except in my case I felt ten times more responsible because he did it for me. We fought over who should sacrifice themselves in order to get the soul stone, and I was so close to being the one to do it, but Clint grabbed me right before I could and threw me in the opposite direction of the cliff. And then he jumped.”

There was so much pain laced in her words, the memory of her best friend cutting into her heart, making it feel like it was about to burst. Ever since that day, the pain had never subsided, never eased. Every time she thought about it - about him - it hurt just as bad as it did when she saw his lifeless body at the bottom of that cliff.

“He sacrificed himself so that I didn’t have to,” she said softly. “So believe me when I tell you that I know how you feel and that you don’t have to do this alone.”

Peter turned his head and looked at her. He could see the pain in her eyes; the same pain he felt every single day. He never thought that anyone would be able to understand how much it hurt. And he had to say that even though he wished that she didn’t have to feel that way, it was kind of nice to have someone who really understood.

He leaned into her shoulder and she placed an arm around him. He let go of everything, then. All the pain he’d been suppressing, all the anger he felt, all the memories he had been trying so hard to bury; he let it all out and it hit him like a train.

It broke Natasha’s heart to see him so broken, so fragile. He was one of the most resilient people she had ever met. Before this, she didn’t think she had ever seen him so much as frown. So to go from always seeing him smiling and happy and cracking jokes to hearing his broken sobs in the middle of the night because he felt responsible for the death of the person he most admired, well, you can understand how painful it was to see him like this.

But regardless of how much it hurt her to see him cry, she allowed him to let go of all of his emotions. She didn’t try to whisper words of encouragement, or try to reassure him that things would get better with time because, again, she knew what this was like. She had been in this situation and she knew that hearing things like that didn’t help. She knew that all he needed was someone to hold him. So that’s exactly what she did.

After a while, his sobs quieted down and his breathing evened out. Natasha thought he had fallen asleep, but then he spoke. His voice was barely above a whisper, but she heard him.

“Nat?” he said, his voice trembling.

“Hmm?” she hummed.

“Do you think you could sleep here tonight? I don’t want to be alone,” he said timidly, almost as if he were afraid she would laugh at him.

Natasha looked down at him and smiled softly. “Of course.”

Peter laid down on the small bed and Natasha scooted in closer to him so she wouldn’t fall off. At first Peter was turned facing the wall and Natasha was on her back, staring up at the bottom of the mattress above them, but then Peter turned around and cuddled into her side. She was a little surprised at first, but then she smiled contently and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer.

Natasha fell asleep almost instantly as she was tired from a long day of helping to train new agents. Peter took a little longer to ease into sleep. He was drained from crying so much, but he fought off the exhaustion that threatened to pull him into an unconscious state out of the fear of having the same nightmare again. But as he laid there, wrapped in Natasha’s arms, he couldn’t help but feel safe. He closed his eyes and listened to her quiet, even breath, no longer fighting his fatigue.

And for the first time in a long time, he slept peacefully.

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#peter parker #natasha romanoff #peter & nat #fluff #angst #the avengers #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3

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thequizzicaldreamer · 3 years

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:’)

#this week on MJ talks into the void:#soundwave #maccadam #transformers #meme #this man is all angles and overlapping panels and was very much designed #with 3d animation in mind #but by god I'm going to draw him

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rommahh · 2 years

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No Way Home and No Way Forward

(This is a Peter Parker fic, and It does contain SPOILERS, so do what you will with that info)

Another date night forgotten by your boyfriend of one year. Peter Parker was everything you had dreamed of in a boyfriend. Having met him in your janky apartment, you living three doors down from him, you knew it was meant to be.

He was hesitant at first to start forming this close relationship with you, holding back due to his past. The past he can’t seem to let go.

You knew that Peter was Spider-Man, he felt comfortable enough to confide in you and explain what had happened with the big fight at the liberty statue and how he got there in the first place. You knew about the botched spell and the only way that he could fix it resulting in everyone not knowing who Peter Parker was.

There were days through where you felt as if you were helping him move past his past. He dwelled so much on Mj and Ned that it drove him into a depression. You always tried to help him rekindle with them but that doesn’t mean you weren’t selfish with your feelings.

You knew if he fully rekindled with Mj, you would be out of the picture. It was hard to let him go when you felt like you finally found your person.

The apartment door jams open, the lock being rusty and faulty. You slam it shut behind you with fury.

Peters in the small kitchen leaning against the counter with a styrofoam cup in his hand- the one from Mj’s diner.

“You missed dinner, again. The third time this month Peter.” You snap. He looks up from his cup, the small smile he had drifting away as he looked at your dressed figure. You were wearing a bright red dress, one that matched the festive decorations around New York City.

“We had reservations at our favorite restaurant and you missed it.” You say again. He sets the cup down and moves to the living room. “Peter talk to me!”

“She knows.” Is all he says. You freeze in spot.

“She as in Mj?” You ask.

“Yeah.” He turns to look at you. His eyes were clouded with emotion, hiding his true feelings.

“Ok, well that’s good…you guys can be friends again.” Your tone is hopeful though you both knew what you said wasn’t what he was intending.

He’s silent. Looking everywhere but at you. “You guys can be friends again? Right?”

“Y/N.” His tone gives it all away and your feel your world shatter. Here in your apartment you shared with the love of your life with the tree you both decorated together while drinking boozy eggnog, with the bed that you’ve made love in, with the photographs of trips you went on together.

“Oh.” You look away now because it’s you look at him, you’ll cry.

“She wants to give us a try. She wants to…” He doesn’t have the right words to say to make this situation better.

You ignore him and walk into your shared bedroom. Your bed was messy from this mornings frivolous activities. His shelf of lego builds were set up neatly, some of the set ups you built together.

Sitting on your side of the bed, you look at the framed picture of you two on the beach just weeks ago. The tears slowly dribble down your face and the sobs ensue.

“Im sorry.” His voice is quiet as he sits down next to you. You swat his hand away as it goes to rest on your shoulder.

“No you’re not and I know you’re not. This is all you’ve wanted!” You yell moving away from him. You go to stand by his desk where the stupid sewing machine sat with all of his GED books.

He looks at you confused. “I don’t know what you’re getting at?”

“You’ve always loved Mj, understandably so, but then you had me. You had me and-and we were doing so well but you could never get over Mj. I was just a filler for you. I filled the void for Mj so you could heal and now that everything’s better for you, you don’t need me anymore.”

“That’s not…” He trailed off before recognizing the truth in your words. It wasn’t that Peter didn’t love you, he did but there would never be another Mj.

“It’s fine, whatever. A year of my life wasted on someone who could never really love me. Im used to being second best so maybe I’ll just get over it.” You mutter rushing around the room looking for a suitcase or bag to pack your stuff away in. Peter was frozen in spot standing off of the bed watching you rush around the room.

“Wait, where are you going?” He asks. Maybe he thought he could have both of you. That you could still be in his life with Mj? That didn’t sound right now that he thinks about it. You scamper around the room pulling clothes from all over into a suitcase. Your heels were long lost and your beautiful red dress was disheveled from the movement.

“Well I cant stay here, it’s your apartment anyways. I’m going to just go stay with a friend, I’ll get the rest of my stuff later.” Your words taper off as you lean over your suitcase. In your hands was one of Peters shirt that you loved so much. You kept it in your piles of clothing because of how much you loved it. It wasn’t yours anymore because he wasn’t yours anymore. You throw the shirt off to the side and break down into tears.

Peter didn’t think this through, much like most of his actions. To see you cry over him like this hurts worst than anything he’s ever imagined.

He wanted to reach out to you and hold you but at the same time he knew it was too late. He had already opened this door for Mj and revealed this information to you.

He was too far gone with no way back.

#peter parker fic rec #peter parker angst #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x y/n #peter x mj #peter parker smut #peter Parker #spiderman no way home

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rejectofsociety · 2 years

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prompt: “I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, but… you need to know something.” xxx

thank youuu! I hope this is alright!

Peter stood at the edge of the skyscraper, staring down at the city below him. He was beginning to despise New York. It was so vast and went on as far anyone could see— it was like a fucking ocean. It felt endless like a void, but also like maze where every turn was a dead end. It felt so, so terribly cramped.

He liked the sky, though. It was pure black which maybe should have intimidated him, but instead made him feel as close to peaceful as he could. He envied the sky and everything in it— there were no limits in the sky. He saw the occasional airplane or jet (rarely birds, not in the depths of the city, and not this high up), and he was jealous of all the space the plane had. The plane never had to worry about being cramped.

This sky was nice, but he wanted to see more. He wanted to see more stars than he could count and hear owls and crickets creating a symphony for everyone to hear— even though there were few people to hear it. (But that was the point).

Since he had started dating Michelle back in high school, he had dreamed of taking her out of New York— maybe to Colorado or Wyoming, he heard they were pretty states. They could stare at the sky in the dead of night— with all the stars decorating it like diamonds on a necklace— until they were too tired to keep their eyes open another second.

Peter dropped into a crouch and buried his head in his hands. Fuck. Where are you, MJ? He thought with dread. The last text she had sent him still loomed over his head and ate at his heart:

[The Amazing MJ 🖤]: I’ll be home in a few minutes. Can’t wait to see you ❤️

He hadn’t seen her in a week, and it felt like she was only getting further from him with every passing day. And the longer he was away from her, the harder it was for him to breathe. Sometimes it felt like there was no oxygen left in the world and he could only sit there, gasping for air that didn’t exist, as his lungs felt empty and sore.

He hadn’t slept since her disappearance either and rarely ate. The deprivation of everything was making it harder for him to continue his search. He knew he needed rest, but not right now. It wasn’t a good time. (It was never a good time, though).

He knew she hadn’t left him, but he almost wished she had. If she left him, at least he could have some reassurance that she was probably safe. But if someone had hurt her or even….

Don’t think about it, Spidey, he scolded himself.

Then, there was a soft thump behind him, so quiet that he only heard it because of his enhanced hearing. Peter’s heart skipped a beat in surprise and he whirled around to face none other than Black Cat. She stood a few feet away with her silver wig stirring in the breeze and her brown eyes staring down at him keenly.

“What do you want,” Peter hissed, his muscles tensed and coiled— ready to fight.

Black Cat didn’t budge, unintimidated by the hero. She knew he would be jumpy, considering both his situation, and amount of times she had fought, hurt, betrayed, and fucked him over.

Then she said, in an almost gentle tone:

“I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, but… you need to know something.”

Peter’s eyes went a little wide and his muscles relaxed slightly, but only because of how vulnerable he was. “What is it?” He demanded.

“I know where your wife is,” she stated, and for the first time in a long time, Peter’s breath was taken away, but not in a bad way.

He was inches away from Black Cat in a split second and gripped her shoulders desperately. She didn’t flinch away, knowing how upset Peter was over this whole thing— and she didn’t blame him in the slightest. (After all, how would she feel if Peter had suddenly disappeared on her? Not that she meant anything to him.)

“I know you’re worried,” she said, touching his arm lightly, “but you really need to be careful here, okay?”

“Just talk to me, Cat,” he demanded, “did you do something to her? Is this some sick joke?!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” she shushed quickly, “you need to listen, okay? Green Goblin suspects…” she lowered her voice as if they could be overheard on the isolated roof, “Pete, Norman is this close to finding out you’re Spider-Man.”

Peter inhaled sharply and hesitated, “and he knows me… he knows MJ is my wife.”

“Exactly. He took her after she left her work a few days ago, and he’s waiting for you. If Spider-Man shows up to save Peter Parker’s wife— otherwise unprompted— he will know.”

Peter stepped back and drew in a shaky breath, considering the situation. Black Cat watched the way the eyes of his suit narrowed calculatively, and she wished she could see what kind of plan he was putting together.

“Okay…” Peter finally said after a while, “this… this fucking sucks. But I got an idea, and I need your help.”

Part Two!

#Thank you so much for the prompts #I adore you #spideychelle #Spiderman #prompts #Reject’s Writing

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thecreaturecodex · 3 years

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Starspyder

Image by MJ Allen, © Emperors Choice Games

[Commissioned by @crazytrain48, from Arduin. The name was originally star spider, two words (spelled with a y in the original Grimoires but not later books). I combined it into one because it’s hardly a spider at all. In fact, it’s very difficult to tell what it actually is, except for a pile of immunities and instant-kills. This version is at least somewhat survivable (pack your freedom of movement and dimensional lock spells!) but still a very nasty customer.]

Starspyder CR 20 CE Outsider (native) This creature is a mass of irregular tissue, studded with tentacles, mismatched lumps of chitin, and other stranger appendages. It has a single eye the size of a human torso, glaring out over a wide maw. Both of these glow with a brilliant, searing light.

The name “starspyder” is more metaphorical than anything, as the creature is only barely spider-like. It is the physical manifestation of the destructive power of a star. They rarely move under their own power, preferring to teleport even over short distances, and many of those that have heard of these creatures believe they are incapable of conventional locomotion. They are immune to the hazards of the void, and many of them are found in asteroids, airless moons or even just idly drifting, teleporting planetside in order to hunt and then retreating to their lifeless sanctuaries.

Any living creature that comes upon a starspyder is drawn towards its maw by a combination of a solar wind and grasping tentacles, swallowed and consumed in burning plasma. Their eye and mouth shine like the sun when opened, blinding creatures that come near them. In the rare instances when a creature escapes a starspyder, it will pursue them through occult methods. Using its mastery over space, a starspyder can reach almost any location, regardless of planet or plane, in under two weeks, sending taunting nightmares as it approaches.

Starspyders are seen as sacred to the cult of Cthugha, and some of these vile arsonists believe that starspyders are that Great Old One’s favored children. Starspyders themselves say little about this connection—they rarely talk to their food. Chyzaedus view them as sacred avatars of consumption, and attempt to keep them as well fed as possible. Most other Dominion entities view them as useful, but dangerous, tools of destruction, and keep their distance.

Starspyder CR 20 XP 307,200 CE Huge outsider (native) Init +5; Senses blindsense 60 ft., darkvision 120 ft., Perception +32 Aura blazing light (60 ft., Fort DC 32) Defense AC 36, touch 24, flat-footed 31 (-2 size, +5 Dex, +12 natural, +11 deflection) hp 367 (21d10+252); regeneration 10 (acid, good or lawful) Fort +19, Ref +19, Will +20 DR 15/good or lawful; Immune blindness, cold, electricity, fire, light, mind-influencing effects, petrifaction, poison, polymorph; SR 31 Defensive Abilities ability fast healing, plasma healing, star screen; Weakness dimensional instability Offense Speed 30 ft. Melee bite +30 (1d12+11 plus 4d6 fire and 4d6 electricity plus grab), 8 tentacles +28 (1d8+6 plus pull) Space 15 ft.; Reach 10 ft (15 ft. with tentacles) Special Attacks coronal wind, fast swallow, pull (tentacle, 5 ft.), swallow whole (AC 27, 36 hp, 10d6 fire and 10d6 electricity) Spell-like Abilities CL 20th, concentration +31 (+35 casting defensively) At will—teleport 3/day—greater teleport, nightmare (DC 26), plane shift (DC 28), quickened teleport 1/day—interplanetary teleport Statistics Str 32, Dex 20, Con 35, Int 7, Wis 27, Cha 32 Base Atk +21; CMB +34 (+38 grapple); CMD 60 (cannot be tripped) Feats Blind-fight, Cleave, Combat Casting, Combat Reflexes, Great Cleave, Lightning Reflexes, Lunge, Multiattack, Power Attack, Quicken SLA (teleport), Stealthy Skills Escape Artist +33, Knowledge (geography) +22, Perception +32, Stealth +25 Languages Aklo SQ compression, implacable pursuit, no breath Ecology Environment any Organization solitary Treasure none Special Abilities Ability Fast Healing (Su) A starspyder recovers ability damage at a rate of 2 points per round. It also recovers from negative levels at a rate of 1 per round. Blazing Light (Ex) A starspyder’s eye and mouth radiate bright light in a 300 foot radius. All creatures within 60 feet of a starspyder must succeed a DC 32 Fortitude save or be permanently blinded. Creatures that succeed this save as dazzled for 1 day, and are immune to the blazing light of that starspyder for the next 24 hours. This effect is treated as a gaze attack for the purposes of averting the gaze. In this 60 foot aura, its light counts as true sunlight for the purposes of harming creatures damaged by sunlight. A starspyder can suppress this illumination as a free action by closing its eye and mouth, but can only sense the world through its blindsense while doing so. The save DC is Charisma based. Coronal Wind (Su) As a swift action, a starspyder can open its mouth and create a wind-like force that prevents creatures from moving away from it. All creatures within a 60 foot cone of the starspyder must succeed a DC 33 Fortitude save or be unable to move farther away than their current position from the starspyder for as long as they remain in the cone. If the creature moves closer, it cannot then move farther away as long as it remains in the cone’s area. The starspyder may reposition this cone on its turn as part of the swift action to maintain it. A starspyder may not move while it is generating a coronal wind. A spellcaster may attempt to suppress the coronal wind with a control winds or similar effect with a successful caster level check against the starspyder’s spell resistance. The save DC is Constitution based. Dimensional Instability (Ex) Whenever a starspyder is in an area that prevents teleportation, or when subject to a dimensional anchor or similar effect, it is sickened. Immunity to Light (Ex) Effects that are light based and deal typeless damage (such as searing light, sunbeam and sunburst) deal no damage to a starspyder. Implacable Pursuit (Su) A starspyder can reach any corner of reality, following any creature it so chooses, in 1d10+3 days of travel. Plasma Healing (Su) A starspyder exposed to fire or lightning damage takes no damage but is healed that amount instead. Star Screen (Su) A starspyder gains a deflection bonus to Armor Class equal to its Charisma modifier. It also gains this bonus to the Armor Class of its gut for the purposes of a swallowed creature cutting free. Swallow Whole (Ex) A creature that is reduced to 0 hit points by a starspyder’s swallow whole is completely consumed and cannot be restored to life by any spell or effect that requires a body. If a creature cuts free of a starspyder, it can use its swallow whole ability 1 round afterwards, as long as its regeneration is still in effect.

#starspyder #eldritch horror #pathfinder 1e #arduin #commissions

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blushing-starker · 3 years

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Insanity brings me truth and you

can you guess what Peter's doing to not be understood by the guards?

It's not easy, being crazy. There are expectations to run away from, a bar to limbo under, a specific number of people one has to betray and scar. The unknowable becomes knowable, so you have to skirt the edge of that Venn diagram very carefully. Or very recklessly. Either way, it's a complex thing except for when it's not. Jesus, how infuriating to think about. The point is, the paradox that crazies carry on their shoulders? It's a fucking hassle, a tricky one and Peter is tired of it.

He sighs, lets gravity bend him backward, legs slipping dangerously off the blanket he's hung as a hammock inside his cell. Act like a psycho and you're predictable, don't act like an ax wielding murderer and whoops! Predictable. It's the downside of being insane; you leave the weary capitalist consumer mask out in the world, probably set that shit on fire and make yourself sick with the fumes. But you just replace it with the one labelled 'danger to society' and get forced to play along with that. He did what he did to avoid the world and its predetermined fate, its standards.

Peter closes his eyes, thinks of the nauseating smell on his left. Rupert, the guard that dared graze him while he came back from the shower naked, has a broken nose thanks to Ned and his loyalty to him. The idiot barely cleans the open wound and the whole cell reeks of pus because of it. He does the math of how long it's been going on for and shudders in disgust. His bare calves slip a little more.

An inhale near the front of his cage. Slow, but controlled. Not the usual. Thank God for a circus family and heightened senses.

The doctor is paying attention to him.

"Doctor Stark. Gnittor gnihtemos llems ouy nac?" Rupert grumbles from his perch on the second floor, curses a hare brained psycho that's incomprehensible. Peter hums, pleased to know that after ten months, nine days, twelve hours, and...

Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus on sinking deeper into nothing, into a yawning void. The blanket shakes and his thighs are starting to tremble. Blood is rushing to his head, veins most likely beginning to protrude. Irrelevant.

His favorite guard Stan wears a Swiss watch his wife got for him on their fortieth anniversary. It sings to him now, smooth and cool like a river. A skipping stone is thrown, tic, a fish heads towards the sound, toc. Above all the other stimuli in the room, the watch announces itself. Ten fifteen.

Ten months, nine days, twelve hours and twenty minutes into a game, his tiny gnat still hasn't caught on. Not like the charming doctor. He sees him then, behind closed eyelids, as clearly as a sweet nightmare. Tall, taller than Peter, but less strong. Wide shoulders that morph into a slim waist and a delectable ass he aches to sink his teeth into. Shapely calves from running, curiously delicate looking ankles.

Down and back again. A full head of dark hair with a dusting of silver. Dangerously clever mouth, what his aunt would call a noble nose. Agreeable cheekbones. Piercing eyes that tear his walls down, rip apart the bricks and mortar until he's scrambling on the other side, desperately, clumsily attempting to reinforce them for the millionth time. Those eyes saw the trick, the mirror reflection on his second day here, Peter offhandedly talking in reverse with Ned when they passed the new doctor. A dark gaze had pinned him in place, a spider fixed in place with its own silk against the cold dissection table.

Ned had rambled on, Peter had met a worthy playmate and the doctor had seen all he needed in that eternally prolonged glance. That very afternoon, a psychiatrist signed on as his very own voyeur.

Doctor Stark seems to be as interested in cutting him open to peek inside as Peter is in taking a dagger and comparing their hearts. He does this a lot; wonders how fate and the absence of lucky fate led them here. On opposite sides of a prison when perhaps it should be the other way around. Or perhaps there should only be Peter and Doctor Stark.

He feels himself falling, plummeting ever downward into fantasies and hazy dreams. It's not until the good doctor sharply calls out his name that he realizes he's also plummeting towards the floor. Now, MJ had warned him; had specifically said that the hammock being ten feet off the concrete ground was a bad idea. Ned had said he'd be fine and Peter loves the guy, ok? He has to do everything he can so that his best friend wins a bet over his other best friend.

Peter slightly regrets that when he's forced to arch his body backward, flip right side up in order to hit the floor on his feet instead of his face. The impact chokes the air right out of him, shakes his bones, but he doesn't react. Cracks his neck and that's all. Most of the guards were kind, some shade of understanding. They weren't harmless, though. He knows what he looks like, knows how many hours these men are cooped up with the scum of the earth.

"To answer your question," Peter leaps onto the bars of his cell, slithers higher than any sane person would and somersaults off the vertical slits, sinks into his trustworthy hammock with its trustworthy knots (MJ and Ned had tied them, one each), "yes, I do. It's less potent this time."

He stills, frowns. "How? There haven't been any changes. External or internal." No need to act like the Mad Hatter when the conversation could be had normally. Quicker and more reliable with meanings. But the doctor pauses, enunciates his next words slowly.

"Ti koot uoy erom emit yadot." God, he loved hearing Doctor Stark talk that carefully and smoothly. It was as comforting as it was uncomfortable. (He and sex don't particularly get along. It's like a headache that comes and goes; with the right medicine it can dissipate and evolve into something soothing, pleasant. With the majority of medicine, it blossoms into pain and soreness, a dry throat clogged by a thick syrup that won't leave him be no matter how much water MJ and Ned encourage him to drink. Peter isn't yet completely certain which side of his scale the doctor falls on, but he's guessing it's likely the first.)

(The man seemed to live in the grey areas; fitting that with this, too, he'd reside in the in between.)

The reverse effect is in play and he grins, genuine and wide, when he catches it. "Monsters are visiting more frequently, taking up space in the light." His nightmares had intensified recently, and they're starting to accompany him even in moments Peter knows are real; shapes drifting by the corner of his eye. As a coping tactic, he rips parts of his nails off. Not entirely, just the corners. His mind could concoct lots of things, but in his dreams his hands are always pristine.

(He hasn't caught up with it, hasn't noticed that although his nightmares have a clearness to them, a bright intensity, Peter can't shift enough focus to realize his hands aren't his own. They never are. But he usually has more pressing bodies to deal with than the good doctor's.)

Another pause, this one being done by Tony Stark, doctor and healer of men, instead of Doctor Stark, curious keeper of deranged souls. "I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe this will help." Peter peers over the edge of the grey hammock, watches with interest as the doctor approaches his cell with a glass bottle of clear liquid sloshing inside. The other man stops an inch away from the bars, looks up at Peter.

There's a slow tension simmering between them, something as thick and addictive as honey. There's scientific curiosity, a desire to seek out and maybe comprehend the unknown lurking inside their mirror image, as other and as alike as oneself. But there is also a gleam of something he's afraid of acknowledging in Doctor Stark's eyes. A madness once tucked away steadily unraveling itself with each glance they share.

Peter returns the look, unblinking and thinking. " 'If you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.' " A lesson Nietzsche offered to those wise enough, sane enough to live blind.

The doctor raises an eyebrow, is otherwise still. Sometimes, if Peter considers their current predicament for too long, his grasp on his masks loosens, and the Spider begins to spin its deadly thread round and round its very own body. He sees a guard exchange money with a partner; the crazy quota has, he guesses, been filled for the week. And they had such a nice streak going on, too. Oh, well. This web is unavoidable anyways.

He pitches himself forward, is the one who controls the descent instead of gravity this time. Letting the air rush up to meet him, he inhales, tastes a distinct sharpness around him. Crouching, Peter takes it all in, every last detail. Looks, really looks, at the doctor and suspects.

As if he were none the wiser, he calmly heads to the front of the cell. Meets the doctor at the divide and wonders what it'll be. Wonders if he'll rise higher than ash and flame, an acrobat testing the fates by flying just seconds ahead of death. Doctor Stark hands him the bottle and he can see now, tiny pieces of lavender. A distraction for the guards. "That should keep the monsters in the dark. Use it before you got to sleep and tuck away your hair."

Like a schoolgirl with a crush, he self consciously brings a hand to his curls. They're getting a bit long, but the warden only allows haircuts once a month or two. "I don't have anything to use." Digging into his lab coat, the other man retrieves a single black stick.

Well, to everyone else it's a hair pin. Peter knows the truth though, can see it and smell it and very nearly touch it. As it is, he gently plucks the items out of elegant hands and refuses to look at them. Looking draws attention. Doctor Stark gazes at his face, eyes flickering in a rehearsed way around his own, but not into them. That's alright, he understands.

"The lack of movement around your face should also help." The question of why is out before he can reel it in and act as a sane, normal person. Christ, he could handle crazy, not rude. He would have to practice being in control so as not to slip up when the doctor is around. Said doctor cocks his head, doesn't have to do anything more for Peter to get the message: go on, ask the devil why he made the deal.

Peter B Parker does not back down when intrigued. "Why are you helping me sleep better?"

Why help me escape?

"It's my duty." Three words. Not the explicit declaration of affection typical, normal, dull people receive from an admirer or partner. Not a grand proclamation of wanting what the heart wants, or a sonnet regarding the connection between star crossed paramours. Simple, short, concise; enough to turn to religion, to sanctity and salvation if it means hearing it again. He'd do anything, including putting on a discarded mask from his past if it gets him what he desires. Peter would suffer through sanity for this man. He would if it means hearing what sounds silent to those around them.

You're my duty. Whatever happens tonight, Doctor Stark believes it's his duty to see it through. To see him through, in a way.

"Why would you accept?" Ah, silly doc thinking any of his principles have changed since the first time they met, since the first time he brought fire to life and gave death in return. Peter smiles, brings forth the prisoner that had not seen the light of day in almost a decade.

(His uncle often said Peter's greatest gift to the world was his smile, his true smile. His aunt said it was the final move needed to capture a king and make him his pawn.)

"Why, doc, you know I hate to be bored." Call him a psycho, a freak, a sick, pitiful creature. Call him anything and everything and maybe those words would ring true. But Peter will never allow himself to be bored, not when there's so much fun to be had. Especially with a doctor as crazy as he is. "This looks...promising."

" 'He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster.' " The first part of Nietzsche's warning.

"Nietzsche didn't understand; those who fought monsters were already fated to become what they struggled to defeat. They believed salvation could be found by killing the monsters outside, but all they did was feed the ones inside."

Anthony Stark, the truest version, grins at him, all glinting eyes, sharp teeth and a crooked smile. Peter Parker, armed with a match, gasoline and soon to be glass shards, grins right back. In this instant, being crazy isn't such a hassle. After all, he has someone to share the crazy with now.

#starker #dark!starker #insane!peter #insane!tony #patient!peter #doctor!tony #peter parker x tony stark #i mean sorta dark #arsonist!peter #demisexual!peter #legit a harley/joker version where theres no manipulation #theyre insane and in love yall #sophie writes

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friendofspidermannedleeds · 3 years

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Fictober Day 2

Prompt #2: “you have no proof” Fandom: Spider-Man (MCU) Rating: Teen+ Warnings: None Characters: Ned Leeds & Peter Parker Words: 1618 Summary: Ned gets kidnapped and does not play it cool.

Nothing Like the Movies

Ned startles awake in a small, dingy room with crappy lighting.

All he can see is brick walls and a metal door, and all he can think is that his head is spinning and he’s horribly nauseous.

He tries to rub his eyes but find his hands tied tightly, painfully behind his back and overtop a metal chair. He takes stock of the other aches and pains that come into focus—his entire body is stiff and sore, and he’s desperate to stand and walk it off—but his feet are tied, too.

Oh.

Oh no.

Ned’s pretty sure he’s living through his first real kidnapping.

He shuts his eyes, attempting deep breathing exercises and trying not to panic.

Ned’s been awake for all of ten seconds and this is already nothing like he’d imagined a few years back when he first saw Peter in the suit. He’d thought then how cool and exciting it’d be if the bad guys realized how vital the Guy in the Chair was to Spider-Man’s operations and brought him to their evil lair with their evil cronies. He would play it just like a hero in a movie—remaining calm, cool, and collected in the face of adversity.

Yeah. He’d been an idiot.

Because this isn’t like an exciting at all, this just sucks, and he’d rather be anywhere but here right about now, and he has a college visit planned for this weekend and his family is probably freaking out, and how long has he been missing and has anyone noticed yet and Peter sure as hell had better notice because it’s almost certainly his fault Ned’s in this mess and he’d like to be rescued now before some evil mobsters come in and do that monologuing shit he assumes all villains do.

But no, he can’t start spiraling, he’ll need to have his wits about him when the cronies do come in, he has to get his story straight—but what is his story, exactly?

It’ll depend on the reason they kidnapped him, obviously, and he honestly has no idea why he’s here, unless someone figured out Peter’s Spider-Man, which, duh, of course someone has, it’s not like villains are in the habit of picking up random high schoolers off the street and tying them to chairs in random warehouses (he assumes that’s where he is, it’s always a random warehouse), and anyway, if he’s somehow been captured by a random serial killer and not an enemy of Spider-Man, at least he’ll be featured on MJ’s favorite true crime podcasts.

His heartrate increases exponentially at that thought, so yeah, okay, maybe let’s not think about the serial killer stuff…

Ned returns his focus to the breathing exercises. How do those work again? In for four, out for seven… no, hold for seven maybe? Seven seems like an awfully long time, that can’t be right, holding your breath that long would surely make it worse, at the very best it’s not helping Ned at this moment. When they taught him this shit at school to “relieve stress during exam week” he never thought he’d be using the techniques here, in the den of a killer.

Ned wiggles in his seat as much as the tight cords will allow.

He really, really has to pee. Of all the injustices, this one suddenly takes top prize. Because this is never a problem in the movies, the kidnapped hero never has to pee while tied up, and now that he’s here living this nightmare, he can confirm that is utter bullshit and who cares if it doesn’t make for great TV, kidnapped characters should have access to a bathroom dammit, this is entirely unreasonable and he’s thinking he might even try shouting into the void to see if someone will come untie him.

He’s not sure how much longer he can sit here like this—his shoulders are starting to cramp up from being pulled back so tightly, his head’s still spinning and setting in on a dull ache, he’s minutes away from pissing himself—who knew being kidnapped would be such torture?

Oh.

Oh shit.

Torture.

Ned cannot, he absolutely cannot, afford to be tortured. If the bad guys come in here and ask for information on Spider-Man he’s for sure going to tell them, he cracks under pressure on the daily for the most inconsequential of things, like his mom asking if he’s finished his homework, or MJ asking if he’s practiced his AcaDec flashcards, or Peter asking him to hack into a multi-million dollar suit.

Okay, so maybe that last one wasn’t so inconsequential—is there a possibility they know he’s Spider-Man’s hacker guy?

He hopes not, because if he’s tortured he will absolutely crack. It’s not a possibility, it’s a fact. Ned is simply not made for this kind of situation.

There’s a loud crash somewhere outside the room, then voices—angry voices arguing about something, probably what to do with the prisoner, and oh shit, Ned hasn’t even planned what he’s going to say or do yet, what if the bad guys come in and ask if he knows Spider-Man??

He has to think of something—something that won’t make him look like the weakling he is, who has more or less already thrown in the towel, who will, at this moment, gladly turn Peter Parker in for the promise of using a toilet.

He sets his teeth.

No.

No, Ned can do this. Ned has to do this.

Okay. He’ll play it cool, like it’s a scene from a movie.

He shuts his eyes.

They’ll say: “We know you know Spider-Man, kid. And we know he’s your best friend, Peter Parker.”

And he’ll say: “You have no proof!”

Ooh. That’s good. Ned’s pretty sure he’s seen that in a movie somewhere.

But wait—that implies he thinks there is proof, and they just have to find it—shit.

He’s better off just saying he doesn’t know what they’re talking about, he’s just a kid who was walking down the street, minding his own business.

Speaking of the street, he’d do anything to be walking down a street again—anything not to be tied to this stupid, freezing metal chair in this stupid, cliché of a room.

Ned hears the voices again, louder, then shouting, then really shouting, and it sounds like maybe there’s some sort of scuffle occurring, and then—

The door busts open.

Ned’s heart beats faster than he’d thought was humanly possible. He instinctively looks at the floor, terrified of what he’ll see, unwilling to look the devil in the eye because this is not a movie, and he is not an action hero, and he sure as hell shouldn’t have to be.

“Ned?”

He looks up. The voice was the last thing he expected, and yet, the most welcome sound he could ever have hoped for.

“Peter?”

He’s wearing the Iron Spider suit, fully masked and already kneeling down to easily break the cords that secure Ned’s limbs.

“Oh my god Ned I’m so glad you’re okay—you are okay, right? You’re not hurt or anything?”

Ned winces as he bring his arms around the back of the chair and tries to rub life into his shoulders. He stands stiffly, supported by Peter’s hand under his arm.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I think. Just—that really, really sucked.”

Peter hugs him. “Ned, I am so, so sorry.”

And Ned has lots of thoughts and lots of questions, but none of them seem to matter right now, and all he can blurt out is—

“ialmosttoldthem.”

Peter’s mask retracts, and he stares at Ned. “What?”

“I don’t know what these kidnappers wanted, but if they’d come in and if they’d asked who you were or wanted to know something about you and threatened me I feel like I would’ve caved for sure and I just know I—I would’ve told them.”

He doesn’t know why he felt the need to share that information, or why he couldn’t seem to stop talking once the confession began pouring out, and he’s wishing he hadn’t said anything but he’s sure that wouldn’t have made him any less guilty, and—

“Good.”

Ned blinks. “I—what?”

“I said that’s good,” Peter says matter-of-factly. “Look Ned, I don’t know yet what these guys wanted—they were amateurs, pretty dumb actually because they didn’t get rid of your phone and that’s how I tracked you here—but honestly, if anyone ever kidnaps you or anyone else and wants information about me, you give it to them.”

Ned shakes his head. “But—but—”

“Ned, I’m a literal superhero. I don’t need protecting, I can handle pretty much anything. If you’re in a shitty situation, your job is protecting yourself.”

Ned’s shuts his mouth as he realizes it’s gaping open, and he doesn’t know why it was, because he’s really, truly not surprised.

Of course Peter would say that. Even if he wasn’t a literal superhero, he would say that. That’s just who Peter Parker is, and if being kidnapped every once and a blue moon is the price to pay for being his best friend, it’s worth it to Ned.

And the next time it happens, (hopefully an if, not a when), Ned’s not telling those kidnapper punks anything.

“Let’s go,” Peter heads out the busted metal door as Ned follows, “the police are coming for those idiots and we need to get you checked out. You need anything?”

“A bathroom,” Ned says immediately.

“Dude,” Peter nods with an empathy only someone who’s been kidnapped multiple times can share, “I am so sorry. Literally the worst. And like—they never acknowledge that in the movies!!”

“Right??”

#fictober21 #ned leeds #peter parker #spider-man #spider-man fic #my fic #fos fic

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areiton · 3 years

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silver falling in my eyes - stony

Ok so what HAPPENED was--Pineapplebread shared a GORGEOUS piece of art on Twitter and I had sad feels. I apologize.

Read on AO3

~*~

After--

After, he thinks, he should be grateful that he can divide his life into that, into Before and After.

After, he thinks, life has always been divided into pieces, before the ice and after, before Bucky and after and then again.

Before Thanos and after.

Before the War, and after.

But this--this after--

It is a horrible thing, for heroes to grow old.

He finds himself sitting on the grass next to a newly covered hole in the ground and the faces that had filled the crowd are sparse now, missing--Pepper was there, pale and grey and still beautiful but Happy wasn’t. Natasha had been gone for years now, but Clint was there, with Lila and Kate, pale and trembling between protege and daughter.

Rhodey wasn’t--he went, happy, in his sleep, a few years ago, Nebula at his side.

Nebula wasn’t either--she hugged Tony hard, after Rhodey’s funeral and vanished into space to chase Carol and stardust and, Steve thinks privately, to run from her ghosts.

Thor and Loki were there, though, and they looked the same as ever, and Bucky stood at his side, and he could see his age, slow but inexorable, reflected in his brother’s eyes, Sam beginning to show his own years at Bucky’s side.

Harley and Peter and Morgan were there, surrounded by their children, and he thinks watching them was hardest, harder almost than watching the coffin lowering into the ground.

Almost.

After--when his heart has broken and been lowered into the ground, when FRIDAY goes quiet and refuses her protocols, when the grave has been covered and the team that was never his returns to their never ending task of keeping the world from spinning into the abyss, when there is nothing but his griefs and unending reminders of the love that they shared--he leaves.

~*~

Steve finds himself in the cabin for a few weeks, but it’s too much a reminder of everything he no longer has. They raised Morgan here, watched Peter propose to MJ here, held Harley when he went through his first heartbreak. Tony danced with him barefoot and beautiful here, on their wedding night, while firelight and the sound of their friends drifted through the windows.

They had a whole life here and home was the Avenger compound, for most of their life, even after they stepped away from active missions, when Tony was nothing more than a tech consultant and Steve ran missions from a control room instead of the front lines.

But when the compound wasn’t home, the cabin on the lake was, the place that felt most like home because it was filled with Tony.

He lingers there, for a few weeks, and then, he murmurs a quiet goodbye to FRIDAY, and slips out of the house with a bag on his back and takes the motorcycle Tony built him, and--he goes.

~*~

There’s a line of code that Boss built into her system, after Thanos, after Beck, after Karen was hacked by Osborne in one of Spider-baby’s battles.

She waits, until the sounds of the motorcycle is gone and there is nothing but quiet. Her baby brother is waiting and she sends him to the Avenger compound with a single order.

Be good to them.

When the house is quiet and empty, FRIDAY says, softly, “Goodbye, Captain.”

And then she follows Boss.

~*~

He realizes time has passed when his hair falls in his eyes, silvery and too long and a little dirty.

It’s long, longer than he’s ever kept it, and there’s a moment, panic-stricken and crippling, as he realizes that Tony wouldn’t recognize him, like this.

There’a familiar laugh, warm and grounding. I’d always recognize you, beloved.

His hands tremble as he pushes it back, he makes a mental note to buy some of those ties Bucky likes, to keep it out of his eyes.

~*~

He drifts. No one ever calls him out, calls him by name, and he’s happy to go by the name Grant Carbonell, what Tony liked to call him when they were forced into the rare undercover missions.

It’s not hiding, really--he’s not delusional enough to think Bucky and his children couldn’t find him, if they wanted. He’s using a known alias and hasn’t done anything to disguise himself, aside from letting his silver hair grow out and his beard get a little unruly.

But it’s running, and wherever he runs, he can hear Tony’s voice, echoing and familiar, Good morning, darling.

~*~

The thing is--he travels, follows construction down the coast and chases a logging job up into Canada and then hops on a boat, backbreaking labor that makes his muscles ache and his mind go blissfully empty through the long fishing season in the Arctic--he gets tired.

He doesn’t want to run forever, the lesson his Ma taught him too many lifetimes ago resonating in him still-- once you start running, you’ll never stop-- and maybe he isn’t hiding.

But he’s running, and he’ll run to the ends of the earth and beyond, and never outrun Tony’s ghost.

Then why are you trying, Cap?

Steve stands on the edge of the water and laughs and says, “Fine, you stubborn ass. Where to next?”

Tony doesn’t answer, but when he climbs back on his bike, Steve turns east.

~*~

He’s old.

He’s old and he can feel his age, some days, all one hundred and some odd years he’s walked the earth and lain sleeping under her ice.

He’s old and some days he can feel it, every moment of an endless life that he never agreed to, when he took the serum, but most days--

Most days he feels as young as he did the morning he met Peggy, the morning he stepped into Erksine’s chamber, impossibly young and a life endless stretching before him.

He feels ancient and young, both, and longs for the days when his husband brushed silvering hair from his eyes and smiled, sleep soft smiles and whiskey dark eyes, and kisses a promise of forever.

I never wanted to leave you, beloved.

Sometimes, on the very worst nights, he can’t help but ask--screaming into the void--

Then why did you?

~*~

His hair is in his eyes, long and silver and he thinks Tony would have liked it, would have liked him on his knees, long fingers--metal and flesh--caught in tangled silver strands while he fucked Steve’s mouth.

He always enjoyed that, when Steve’s hair got long, when he was needing to go get the sides shaved and the long fringe trimmed.

He thinks, too, that Tony would hate to see him like this--beard scruffy and unkempt, hair too long, his undercut long since grown out.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, sitting on the grass next to a black headstone engraved with gold. He isn’t sure if he’s apologizing for his absence or his appearance or his lingering presence, when Tony waits for him.

“I won’t be too much longer,” he promises, and the wind blows his hair in his eyes.

As long as you need, honey.

~*~

Bucky is still broad shouldered, powerful and beautiful in his way, but his hair has silver shot through the brown, and there are new wrinkles around his brother’s eyes that Steve thinks are from laughter.

He deserves that.

Alpine--the fourth or fifth Alpine, but Bucky could never be talked into naming the litany of little white cats he adopts anything but Alpine--jumps into his lap and purrs, ecstatic, while Bucky sits next to him in a quiet house.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he hates himself, for how useless it is. Sorry doesn’t mean shit, when your world has crumbled away.

“We had a good life,” Bucky says, and he smiles, tear-stained but bright. “It would never be long enough, Stevie. Not for you or me, or either of them. We’re greedy bastards--and I’d always want a little more time with him. But I had a good life with Sam, and you had a good one with Tony. That’s more than either of us ever thought we’d get.”

Steve nods, and there are tears, falling in his eyes, because he’s right, Steve knows he’s right--but it hurts.

“It hurts,” he chokes, and Bucky makes a noise, low and wordless and reels him, and Steve crumples, falls to pieces against his chest, and stains his shirt with tears, and wonders if he’ll ever stop grieving.

~*~

It’s good, being back, even if it does sting.

He moves into Bucky’s guest bedroom, and it’s better, for both of them, not being alone. Sometimes, Bucky disappears to the compound, runs a mission for the New Avengers because he might be edging in on a hundred and fifty, but Bucky still has the Winter Solider lurking in the depths of his eyes, and one day, Steve follows him.

Heroes grow old, but they’re still there, heroes in their bones.

~*~

Peter sees him at the compound, and he smiles, sunshine bright just like Tony and hugs him, like Steve hasn’t been running from his ghosts for the past few years. Like he didn’t run from his family, when they needed him.

He hugs Steve and says, “Welcome home, Pops.”

~*~

It’s not a bad life, really.

Their kids visit on the weekends, and he holds his great-grandson, and Benji grins at him. “His name is Anthony Edward Parker.”

The baby blinks up at him, whiskey dark eyes in a pale round face, and Steve’s hair--it’s shorter now, but not the style he wore for so many years, the style that Tony loved, because he can’t bear that again--falls in his eyes, and he’s not sure if the tears are grief or gladness.

~*~

He sits on the grass next to a black and gold stone, and the wind blows his hair in his eyes and he closes his eyes, and waits for the day when he can rest, when he can close his eyes and open them to beloved eyes bright with love and happiness, and Tony’s familiar, Hey, winghead. I missed you.

#arei writes fic #stevetony #stony fic #tattoo verse au #art inspired fic #steve rogers #tony stark #i'm so sorry y'all

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mj1343 · 4 years

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I dont know who to tell this to i almost sent part of this as an ask to a minecraft blog but held off because i didnt want to bug them but u h THE DOMINANT SPECIES OF MINECRAFT THERE ARE 4 OF THEM

NUMBER ONE IS YOU THE PLAYER OBVIOUSLY

The player is the newest to the minecraft world and yet at the same time the oldest. In terms of the world you create when you click “create world” you are the newest. Youre dropped in an unforgiving world which has already been inhabited by smart creatures and is filled with undead versions of them, and fellow players like yourself. (Zombies/Skeletons, Zombie Villagers, and Zombified Piglin). But the player is also the oldest. Theyve been there since the beginning. They control how the world is created. They chose when in the worlds evolution (updates lol) they exist in. They chose to add things to the worlds. (datapacks n mods) They are the newest to the WORLD they exist in, but they are the oldest in terms of the game they play.

NUMBER 2 OH BOY ITS VILLAGERS AND PILLAGERS BABEY

Theyre the second newest. Theyve been around a long time, theyve already got towns built long before the player arrives. As time passes they got smarter, got better jobs, built better houses. Some broke off to travel the world peddling (overpriced) wares. Some left for more malicious reasons and built giant mansions and towers to patrol from. They speak a different but similar language to the player, and theyve learned a bit from spending so much time with them. The player is.. wierd, destroying and stealing but also creating and saving them. They trust them. They trade with them. Whatever the case, the villagers have been there before the players but not before..

NUMBER 3 PIGLINS YEEHAW

But wait mj the piglins were just added like 2 weeks ago how are they the 3rd newst/2nd oldest ILL TELL YOU HOW my headcanons involve me reading the wiki for. forever. just going through as much as i can. Before villagers and emeralds there were pigmen and rubies. They had the same functions as villagers and were kind of just a stand in. But oh ho ho i like to think they were canon!! Long before the player, when the villagers were just starting to build camps, these guys controlled the world and they were greedy. They mined all the rubies up, they loved treasure and shiny things, and they left their mark on the world. Sure, some of the sunken ships and ruined temples are from villagers or older creatures. But a lot of those came from the pigmens reign. But at some point their greed caught up to them and they got banished into the nether. The ones who left hiding would be zombified quickly from the unforgiving conditions. But, as weve seen, the nether and overworld have started to mix. Things have started to come alive in hell. And so the piglins make their return. They do not trust you. The villagers were only getting started when they left the overworld, who is this guy who thinks hes incharge? But their greed has not gone away. When you barter with a piglin, you are not doing it out of trust. You are doing it because you have gold they want and they know you can get more for them. Once the gold runs out, you dont need to stick around. These were the guys who built the nether fortresses, but i dont think they built the bastion remnants, only took control of them. Those were built buy..

NUMBER 4 ??? HERE WE GO

Number 4 is. the hardest to describe. The two voices in the end poems? The ancient debris and bastion remnants, giant destroyed structures? the massive fossils of creatures passed? Those are all remnants of the first powerful species in this world. They could be gods, or they could just be really good at what they did. Im not sure which old structures the pigmen built and what Number 4′s built, but i have a good feeling they made the strongholds because theyve been able to rip apart the void itself to return to the end. Maybe they were the ones who banished the pigmen to the nether, maybe they were gone before the pigmen came around. They definitely had control over all three dimensions. But theyve long since died out except for the two you hear talking about you. To be honest the game doesnt give much to help us figure out who these guys are, but anything ancient is probably from their era.

BONUS BECAUSE I THOUGHT OF THIS WHILE WRITING THIS POST: END PEOPLE

The endermen are smart. They have their own language, very possibly as many people on tumblr have talked about, telepathically spoken through their eyes. Which is why when you look at them both you and them get a big screech of confusing sounds and they get angry. Theyre confused and frightened. However, i dont think the end cities came around from shulkers and endermen as we see them now. Those are old old old. Access only opened up to them recently, until now theyve been lost in the void. My idea is that the endermen and Number 4 are related, maybe the endermen are descendants of the once powerful species or maybe they lived along side them. Either way, the fact the end poem happens when you defeat the Dragon and ‘free the end’ according to the achievement means they did not like being under her control. Maybe she killed off all but the two ancients you hear in the poem and the endermen are under her thrall. Maybe the endermen have gotten warped into the creatures we see today by her. Where did she come from? I assume an egg like the one we win from defeating her, but where did that come from? Did the ancients have dragon eggs? Was she an experiment gone wrong? A force from the void the ancients had long since mastered and built their cities in, trying to regain control of the void? And if were talking about pigmen and rubies, we cant not mention the fact endermen used to have green eyes and pearls are green. Maybe the green eyes were from the era before the dragons influence corrupted the endermen and destroyed the ancient species.

THANKS FOR READING IF YOU READ THIS HUGE DUMP OF HEADCANONS I HAD TO GET IT OUT SOMEWHERE I LOVE YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY AND FEEL FREE TO SHARE YOUR OWN HEADCANONS!!!!

#minecraft #minecraft lore #minecraft headcanon #mineblr #minblr #save #long post #ramblings

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butmomilovepeter · 4 years

Text

first date

read on ao3?

imagine not posting for a year only to come back with this for no reason lmao hey guys

The mission was over and done within the hour, and that should have been the first sign that something was wrong. There was an ache in Tony’s chest; a mix of anticipation and anxiety, but he chose to ignore it. That was the second sign.

“Hey, Pete, come with me,” Tony said, motioning for Spiderman to follow. “I just want to do a quick sweep down that block.” He waved towards it absentmindedly.

“On it!”

He’s in a good mood today, and it makes Tony smirk. Peter’s a genuinely happy kid, but he’s also seventeen, and if Tony knows anything about seventeen year olds, it’s that their mood swings are unpredictable. So when Peter doesn’t give him any attitude, the ache in his chest dissipates, and a bit of relief replaces it. They made their way down through the street, fixing lampposts and flipping cars and helping pedestrians. (Why people still wanted to live in New York City he didn’t know. It was clearly one of the most susceptible cities for alien attacks.)

All the while, Peter was kind and quiet for the younger kid’s sake, and put on a more mature facade for the adults. It made Tony’s heart swell, though he would never admit it.

“You’re chipper today, young Skywalker,” Tony joked. “What’s up?”

“Chipper is a weird word,” Peter said, but there was a laugh in his words as well. “Does something have to be “up” for me to be in a good mood?”

“Yes, because last week you snapped at me for asking if you wanted pizza for dinner.”

“I was tired!” he argued.

“You were being moody.”

Peter thought about this for a moment. “Fair.”

“So, really, what’s going on?” Tony was genuinely curious. “Is it about MJ?”

“What? No,” he said, and Tony could hear the embarrassment in his voice. “No, it’s not about MJ.”

“I think you’re lying to me,” said Tony. “I can tell when you lie to me.”

“That’s creepy, Mr.Stark.”

“Maybe,” he said. “C’mon, spit it out.” He nudged Peter in the shoulder.

“I have a date tonight, alright? Is that what you wanted to hear?” He whispered it as if she would hear him, which only made Tony laugh. “At seven. Right after this.”

“God, finally. I thought you’d never ask her out.”

They rounded the corner, finding themselves alone and away from the crowds. The alleyway was clear. (That really should have been sign number three.)

“Whatever.” Peter crossed his arms. “I don’t know. I’m excited.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Tony smiled. “What’s the plan? Dinner and a show? A little Lady and the Tramp action? Or maybe--”

“Stop talking.”

“There’s the attitude--”

“No, stop talking.” Peter was rigid. He was sensing something, and the ache in Tony’s chest bombarded him.

Tony blinks. He blinks, and it’s chaos.

Chaos because he just closed his eyes for a millisecond, a millisecond, and then there was the shout. The firing of the weapon. The cry as Peter went down, and the thud as he ungracefully hit the ground.

“Peter!”

He fired blindly at the source. Anger is a funny thing, in this case, because anger isn’t just anger at the moment. It’s protection, loyalty, and fear all wrapped up with anger slapped in front of it. Tony chases the alien-- a sickly grotesque vomit-green thing, with drooping skin and bones. No doubt sent by a Thanos wannabe, or even some other powerful entity, pushing the limits for the Avengers. Clearly, this was Tony’s limit, because he doesn’t even register how fast he flies at it, his ammunition being wasted and catastrophically used on the stringy green thing. It falls down dead a couple feet ahead of him.

“Tony, what the hell was that?” Steve commands through their coms, his voice edged with worry and annoyance.

Tony can’t even really hear him. “Peter.”

“What about the boy?” That’s Thor.

“There was one more. It got Peter.”

Tony clambered out of his suit, not caring about the dangers anymore. The others yelled in his ears, but he didn’t want to listen to them. He just wanted to get to Peter.

Peter had somehow army-crawled his way to the brick wall. His face was pale. He had taken his mask off, and now all Tony could see was the sweaty and ghostly way his face gleamed off the newly-lit lampposts.

From the front, there wasn’t anything wrong with him. From the front, he just just looked stressed, tired, and pained.

Tony exited his suit swiftly, knowing the dangers and not caring. He wanted human hands to help the kid. (Well, human hand. The other one was lost to Thanos. But it was Tony. He wanted to be Tony, not Ironman, when he approached Peter.)

He fell to his knees by his side, cupping his face with his good hand. “Look at me, Pete. Look at me. Where--?”

“My back,” Peter wheezed.

“Let me look at it, alright?”

Tony carefully leaned him into his shoulder so he could see the damage. He suppressed a gag first when he saw it. It’s the smell. Burning flesh. It’s not a normal wound. It’s like fire. It burned away the back of the spandex of Peter’s suit, his back now exposed. And his back...Tony could puke. Layers of skin were burnt--he couldn’t tell you what kind of burns he’d have. He didn’t know. He tried to touch it, but all Peter did was yelp into his shoulder and seize in on himself.

“Mr. Stark-- Tony--” and Peter doesn’t call Tony that often, so he knew his pain tolerance was being breached. He wouldn’t be able to handle it for much longer.

Tony pulled Peter back against the wall, watching as the poor kid winced and screwed his face up to deal with the pain. When he did open his eyes again, they were hazy and red, and they didn’t seem to really see anything at all.

“It’s gonna be alright, yeah? We’ll get the team and we’ll get Strange down here, and he’ll fix you up, huh? So just--so just stay with me.” Tony cupped Peter’s face with both hands. “Stay with me.”

Peter tried. He truly did, and Tony could tell. But still, his head lolled in Tony’s hands, and the grip he had been keeping on Tony’s sleeves weakend. “Can’t.”

“Well, you’re going to have to,” Tony chided, shaking him in a way he hoped didn’t hurt. “You’ve got a lot of people counting on you.”

He didn’t want to explain to Morgan why Peter wasn’t coming back. He didn’t want to have to tell May Parker that she had lost her whole world again, this time permanently. He didn’t want to add a Spiderman hologram to their Avengers memorial. He didn’t want to plan a funeral. He didn’t want to lose a child. He didn’t--he couldn’t.

“God, MJ is gonna kill me,” Peter said, his words playful, but his tone thin. “And don’t even get me started on May and Ned.”

“Kid?” Tony was scared. Very, very sacred. He pulled Peter into his arms, careful to avoid the growing wound on his back. “Don’t say stuff like that. You’ll give me more gray hairs.”

Peter hugged Tony back weakly. “If you have to, tell them, okay? Morgan, too.”

Tony knew what Peter meant, and somehow that made it worse. “Well, that’s just not happening, you know that, right?”

“Tony, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you,” he said between gasps. Peter was weak. He was strong, but he was very weak. He was nearly liquid in Tony’s arms.

Tony swallowed. “Fine. If.”

He could tell Peter was smiling, but when he finally went completely limp, Tony prayed that wasn’t the last time he’d see him do that.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Tony’s voice is shallow. There’s something caught in his throat. His demeanor is tight, his face is strict. He feels like if he moves an inch he might explode.

Strange, on the other hand, is uncharacteristically soft. His eyes have bags under them, and his shoulders droop forward. He looks mentally exhausted.

“Tony—”

“Tell me the truth, Strange.”

Strange’s eyes flicker towards the chart in his hands. “He’s been burned bad, Stark. He’s alive, but it’s painful.”

“I can deal with painful,” Tony responds.

Strange’s lips made a thin line. “Perhaps...but can he?”

This startles Tony, so much so that his demeanor cracks a bit, and his mouth drops open. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that this isn’t a normal kind of pain because this wasn’t a normal kind of weapon,” he responds, keeping his voice low. “This tech--there’s magic in it. My kind of magic.”

“But the stones are gone,” Tony says, anger veering on his voice.

“They are, but that doesn’t mean that magic like that isn’t still out there, Tony.”

“So...what's your plan, then?”

Strange didn’t respond for a second. He looks like he was weighing his options. “There’s a couple ways we could deal with it, and none of them are ideal.”

Tony gulps. “Lay it on me.”

“One, we could wait it out, but he’s either going to be in incredible amounts of pain or not conscious at all.” Strange starts leading him down the hallway to Peter’s room. Everything is white and clean and shiny, and Tony feels like a stark contrast to everything around him. “That’s...the simplest way.”

“I take it the other way isn’t like that?”

Strange shook his head. “It’ll be quicker, but it could also make it worse.” Strange continues to stare at him, like he was trying to find the best route to follow the conversation.

“Just spit it out, Strange, Jesus!” Tony completely crumbles. He’s worried. He wants to be able to go home with Peter by the end of the week, by the end of the day.

“Tony, I’m being cautious because you can’t make this decision in your state,” Strange responds sharply. “You want him better, we all do, but if we rush into anything, we could do more harm than good.”

“What’s option two?”

“Stark--”

“What’s option two?” he says more forcefully.

Strange stares at him again, his face hard to read. “There are spells. I know some that may help.”

“That sounds peachy,” Tony says, looking at the ground. “But there’s a price, right?”

“Yes.” Strange opens the door to the hospital room. “Even if it succeeds, it could cause new problems, ones that we might not be able to solve. Magic is a fickle thing, Stark. It’s almost its own entity. It doesn’t like to be controlled, it likes to be channeled. ”

“Would it kill him?”

“It might. Or it could paralyze him, void his mind of thought, make his burns move to a different place--there is a lot of risk.”

Tony stares at Peter’s bed. The kid was on his stomach, his wounded back prominent against the white linen sheets and pale skin. His head was turned to the side. His whole face was smooth and lineless and white. It makes Tony’s stomach turn.

“But if we don’t? If we don’t use magic?”

Strange sighs. “The sedatives Banner and you made will keep him under, and I can work on treatments now, but there are no guarantees. We don’t know when he’ll wake up.” He pauses, looking carefully between Tony and Peter. “... if he’ll wake up.”

Tony’s voice hitches in his throat. He closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to think about that. He takes deep breaths and he tries to steady himself, because he cannot handle that. He holds his hands together; the smoothness of the right arm against the calloused and worked one of the left. His words are stuck in his throat.

“It’s your choice. I’ll back you up either way,” said Strange. “I’m sorry, Tony.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry too,” he says after a moment.

Strange grips his shoulder as he walks out, leaving Tony alone with the prone Peter. He finds himself making his way to sit in the armchair next to the bed.

His hand moves on it’s own towards his head. He pushes back Peter’s hair from his face, trying to stop his hands from shaking.

“Don’t let it be if, kid,” Tony says. “I’m begging you.”

May answers on the second ring. “Please tell me you’re calling to make lunch plans.”

“May…”

“This isn’t a lunch plan phone call, is it?”

“I wish I could say it was.”

He paces up and down the linoleum hallway of the medical wing, his footsteps echoing off the walls.

He hears May shudder a breath over the phone. “What’s wrong with him?” Of course she already has an idea.

He goes into his scripted explanation, being careful to keep his tone hopeful and light. He knows she didn’t buy it, but he knows she’s grateful anyway.

When he finishes, she doesn’t say anything. He just listens to her breath deeply, no doubt holding tears back. He doesn’t blame her. He kinda wants to cry too.

“Um, Happy can, uh, pick you up if you want to come up here,” he says, clearing his throat.

“Yeah, I would,” she responds, her voice thick. “Do you...do you think he needs anything?”

“I don’t know if he’d even notice,” and he regrets saying it as soon as he does.

May doesn’t seem to mind or care. “Tony?”

“Hmm?”

“What-what do you think? Do you think he’ll…” She can’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

“...That’s the other thing, May. We have some options. But neither are ideal.” He somehow has made it back to Peter’s room, much to his dismay. He wanted to be far away from there.

“Let me guess. Either way, it’s still up in the air.”

Tony nods. “Either we wait it out, see what Dr.Banner and Dr.Strange can do...or we take a more mystical approach.”

“Mystical?”

“The wound isn’t human, May. It’s, in the good doctor’s terms, magical.” He sat down at that same armchair. “And with him being a wizard and all, he says he might be able to do something about that.”

May is quiet. He assumes she’s thinking it over. “What’s your take?”

“Usually, I’d say we wait,” he says. “But...I trust Strange. And I feel like it’s worth a shot.”

“Then do it. I spent the last five years grieving over him, Tony. I can’t do that again.” There’s rustling on her hand, probably her gathering Peter’s things. “So if you’re saying we’ve got a shot at this, take it.”

Tony feels his heartbeat hammer in his chest with adrenaline. “I do. I have to believe we do.”

May’s voice was full of tears. “He had a date tonight. His first real date. Laid out his clothes and everything.”

Tony doesn’t respond. He if did, he wouldn't be able to make clear words.

At some point, May hangs up. Tony sends Happy to whisk her up to him.

Tony watches Peter’s mechanical breathing. The wound itself he tries to look away from. The skin around it is red like hell. The burns are bone deep, but there’s something unsettling and wrong about them, like they clung to his very existence and not just his back. Maybe that’s what Strange was talking about.

He walks in about fifteen minutes later. “Stark?”

“Let’s do it,” he says, getting to his feet. “Bring on the magic, Dumbledore.”

Lighter footsteps come running down the hallway. “Daddy!”

Morgan was dressed in her favorite overalls, which we rustled from playing and other such five-year-old activities.

“Hey, squirt.” Tony scoops her up into his arms and twirls her around, glad for the moment of solace after such a harrowing day. “What’re you doing here?”

Pepper, and May follow in suit, each wearing a matching solemn expression. May looks like she’s been crying.

Pepper lands a kiss on his cheek. “How is he?”

“Strange is testing some things out. Seeing what might work. He hasn’t started anything yet,” says Tony, placing Morgan on his hip. “But the gang’s all here.” He nudges Morgan’s cheek with his own.

“What’s wrong with Pete? Mommy won’t tell me,” Morgan says, gaining a few dry chuckles from the group.

“Oh, you know Peter. He always lands himself in trouble,” Tony supplies, hoping she’ll accept his answer.

But she’s his daughter, so of course she won’t. “What kind of trouble?”

He doesn’t answer right away, because explaining to a five-year-old that her pseudo older brother got shot with a magical alien gun isn’t easy.

Pepper takes May’s hand, leading her down the hallway. “Let’s go grab some coffee. You look like you could use it.”

That leaves Tony alone with his daughter. She tries to ask him again, but stops short when he gives her a quick look. He sits down on a bench outside Peter’s closed off room. “It’s a long story, kiddo.”

“I like stories,” she replies.

Tony gives her half a smile. “Not these kinds, baby.”

“What’s wrong with him, Daddy?” She pushes on his knee while he kneels in front of her.

“You remember when Mom and I went to that big fight? And everybody was there?” When she nods slowly, he continues. “I got pretty banged up, remember? So I had to get this?” He waved the metal hand around, flexing his fingers and pushing her hair back.

“You got your cool arm,” she says, trailing her fingers down it.

“Right,” Tony continues. “We had another fight today. And Peter got pretty banged up.”

“Will he get a cool arm, too?”

Tony kisses her forehead. “No, not that kind of banged up. It’s on his back, M.”

“Can I see him? He says I always make him feel better.”

Tony felt his eyes well up with tears. “Not yet, baby. You know Dr. Strange? He’s trying to fix Pete up. But it might take a long time.”

“I don’t like waiting, Daddy.”

“Yeah, me neither, babe. But we’re gonna have to if we want him to get better.”

She stares down at her sneakers, like she doesn’t know the right thing to say. Tony doesn’t know either, so they stay silent for a few minutes.

The girls return after a few more minutes.

“I told Ned to make something up for that MJ girl’s sake,” May says quietly, one hand in her pocket and the other holding her coffee. “He’s out of his mind worried.”

Secretly, Tony knows it’s kind of selfish of him to feel so hollow about losing Peter. It’s May who should be on the edge of a breakdown, not him, yet somehow she seems calm and collected. It took a whole year and a half before May and Tony spoke about anything, much less about Peter. She didn’t accept his invitations, and Tony didn’t blame her. She was angry at him for losing her nephew, her only living family. Tony blamed himself too. It wasn’t until Morgan’s second birthday that she brought him up, saying how when Peter was Morgan’s age, his favorite color was red, like Morgan’s was too.

For her, it was always something. The Parker’s, then Ben, then Peter.

Tony had lost people too, but he had Pepper and Morgan to help him through.

He’s about to say something to her, an apology or a condolence, but Strange busts out from Peter’s room, huffing. “I think I’ve figured it out.”

Tony watches Strange make strange symbols and movements, but he doesn’t interrupt. His worry clouds his curiosity. The orange glow of Strange’s powers hurt his eyes, but he keeps them trained on Peter, who was still stone-like in his sleep.

He made his wife and daughter wait in the hall, but he did ask May to join him. Should next to him, her jaw stiff upon seeing her nephew (her son ) lying so still. He grabs for her hand in a comforting way, which she gladly accepts. He knew why; she wanted to hold some tangible if she couldn’t hold Peter. She wanted to hold onto something real.

Strange’s eyes are closed and concentrated, breathing deeply as he conjures some sort of spell.

There’s a sudden blast of energy that ripples between them all, sending shivers down Tony’s spin and the brief scent of burning in his nose. Strange holds the energy (perhaps the spell? Magic still confuses Tony) in his hands, and then slowly dissolves it into Peter’s wound.

For a brief, cold, solid moment, Peter does not breathe. He does not move. He flatlines, and Tony is already to fall to his knees if it wasn’t for the equally distraught May holding him up.

And then, he gasps.

Strange immediately does something else, another spell or other such magical words, and Peter’s back seems to heal itself.

“Woah, what the hell--?” Peter says softly, shifting his arms underneath him to sit up a little.

“Peter!” May cries, letting go of Tony’s hand in favor of helping Peter turn around. “Jesus, baby, are you okay?”

Strange seems a bit put out, and he nearly falls back into the other armchair on the other side. Tony mouths him thank you before coming to Peter’s otherside, gaining him half a nod and a sigh from the other man.

“May? What happened?” Peter asks, flexing his fingers and stretching his shoulder. “Mr.Stark?”

“What do you remember, kid?” Tony asks, removing the tubes away from Peter’s face.

Peter raises his eyebrows. “We just finished the mission, and we were talking about my date, and then...oh God . Did I miss my date?”

Tony and May both bark out ridiculous laughs, causing a helpless look from Peter.

“I’m sorry, baby. Ned had to cover for you,” May replies, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“She’s not going to be happy. She’s been waiting for me to ask her for, like, a month.”

“You can ask her again, Pete. I’m sure she’ll say yes,” Tony offers.

“I hope so. I don’t know what Ned could have possibly come up with. He cracks under pressure,” Peter says, letting May and Tony coddle him.

The door swung open. “Pete!”

Morgan came running at them, ready to jump right on Peter if it wasn’t for Tony catching her mid-air and dropping her down softly.

“Sorry. I could only keep her out there for so long,” Pepper says, a light smile on her lips.

Morgan clammers to squeeze herself between Peter and her father. “You’re awake!”

“Yeah, Morg, I am,” Peter says with a laugh. “No doubt because you’re here.”

She grins wildly at him, asking a million questions about why he didn’t get a metal back, why “Mr.Strange” was being so quiet, why Peter didn’t have a shirt on, why everyone looked like they were crying, and just about anything that came to her head.

Tony took mental snapshots. These were the moments to remember. These were the moments that made it worth it.

#peter parker #tony stark #tony and peter #irondad #spiderson #ironman #spiderman #may parker #pepper potts #morgan stark #pepperony #spideychelle #fanfiction #my writing #hey guys....#been a minutes hasnt it

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enchantedlokii · 3 years

Text

Jury’s Out

Rating: PG

Warnings: none

Characters: Peter Parker, Pepper Potts, James Rhodes, May Parker, Happy Hogan, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds, Morgan Stark, EDITH

Mentioned: Stephen Strange, Flash Thompson, Quentin Beck, J. Jonah Jameson, George Stacy, Wanda Maximoff, Tony Stark

@whumptober2020 Day Seventeen: Wrongfully Accused

Saying Peter was nervous for the verdict was an understatement. He knew that he had the best lawyers in the country on his side, thanks to Pepper, but even they could only do so much. It was up to the jury to decide his fate.

The trial had been going on for two weeks now. Countless people had chosen to testify on his side; including many of the Avengers. He was surprised when even the former Rogues stepped up to defend him, talking about the Battle of Earth. Dr. Strange had come too, telling about how he had snuck into the spaceship and helped rescue him before joining the Battle of Titan. What surprised him most, however, was the amount of everyday people who had come to show their support. Several of teachers and classmates had came, and even Flash Thompson had spoke on his behalf.

Still, there was also a large amount of people who came to speak on Mysterio’s behalf. J. Jonah Jameson, for example, was there. Several Oscorp scientists had been there too, and Chief Stacy, with several other NYPD cops. They all wanted him to be taken into custody. Sent to the Raft, even after Wanda told in her testimony how she had been treated there.

“I think that you’re going to be fine.” Peter broke away from his thoughts as Rhodey put a hand on his back. He had testified on his side, too. “There’s too much evidence on your side. It would be ridiculous for them to think you’re guilty.”

“I hope you’re right,” he murmured, glancing down the hall. So many people were there, all of them in this hallway being on his side. It had amazed him that he had so much unconditional support from the Avengers and their allies and that even those who lived far away had come to New York to be there for him. “You have to promise me you’ll take care of May if this goes wrong. You and Happy.”

“We will, Buddy,” Rhodey promised him. He glanced over to where Happy and May talking, catching the man’s eyes and giving him a knowing look. “Still, I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

“Would it be wrong of me to ask Wanda to get in the jury’s head?”

Peter snorted as he turned to see Sam and Bucky walking over. He had been surprised when they showed up without having to be asked. They had stayed the entire trial, even. “Use her voodoo magic to our advantage.”

“Yeah, I’m ninety-nine percent sure that wouldn’t be legal,” he replied.

“Hey,” Bucky nudged his shoulder. “If this doesn’t work, we’ll sneak ya out, alright?”

“Thank you, but that’s okay. You two have only just been cleared yourselves. I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble again for me,” Peter told him. At this point, he was bouncing on the balls of his feet out of anxiety. “Do you think she could see what they’re thinking, though?”

“Peter!”

Peter turned his head at the sound of Michelle’s voice. Her and Ned had been watching the door to see when the jury was finished, and now they had come running down the hall to them. “The jury’s finished.”

Sure enough, they were called back into the courtroom just moments later, everyone else going in first and then Peter being led in by the bailiff. He took a shaky breath as he sat down in front of the judge, warily eyeing the jury to see if there were any signs of what they had decided. They gave away nothing, waiting for the judge to call them to speak.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?”

“We have, your honor.” Peter watched as the woman who had been delegated as the lead juror stood and faced the judge. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as she shuffled her papers. He felt like she was deliberately delaying the process to create suspense.

“We the jury,” she started again. “Have found the defendant. . . Not guilty on all accounts.”

Peter released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, feeling tears come to his eyes as he heard the clapping behind him. “Thank you,” he breathed, lifting his head to look up. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Very well,” the judge spoke. “I would just like to say that this has been a very interesting case, and that I am appalled by the actions of the plaintiff. I believe that you should all be ashamed of yourself for believing the nonsensical video that has now been proven null and void.”

Peter couldn’t help but smile as the man turned to him. “Congratulations, Spider-Man, and thank you for all you do for our city.” Looking up at the crowd, he added, “This case is dismissed.”

Peter couldn’t stop himself from shaking as he hugged May. He could feel tears streaming down his cheeks still, but she didn’t seem to mind. She just stroked his hair gently, pressing a kiss to the top of his head every now and then. “I’m proud of you, Baby,” she whispered. “So, so proud.”

“Thanks, May,” he whispered, pressing himself closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sweetheart,” she replied.

“Peter!”

Peter pulled away slowly from May, giving her a small smile before turning to face MJ. He was surprised when the girl hurried forward and greeted him with a kiss. He melted into it before she pulled away, her eyes red but smiling brightly. “You did it,” she choked out. “You did it.”

He nodded and she pulled him into a tight hug, much like the one she had given him after he had finished fighting Mysterio. He returned it with a tight squeeze, lowering his head to press his face into her shoulder. “I’ve missed you,” he told her.

“I’ve missed you too,” she told him. “We all have. But you’re coming home now, right?”

Peter glanced over to where Happy was standing guard at the door. He knew there were a lot of people who were unhappy with the verdict, and he wasn’t out of the woods yet when it came to safety. Still, he was ready to return to his apartment in Queens. “Actually,” he looked back at her slowly. “I think we’re going to stay at the Compound for a week or so while things settle down, but I’ll be back before school starts. And— and maybe you could come visit. I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I don’t want to intrude on your family time.”

“My family time?”

MJ just smirked and nodded towards the door. He turned and looked to see Pepper was carrying Morgan inside. He smiled and turned back to her, a question in his eyes.

“Go,” she told him.

He nodded, moving forward to give her a quick kiss. “I love you,” he told her. “I’ll call you tonight.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she teased before he turned and made his way over to Pepper and Morgan.

“Hey,” he started, a bit uncertain what to say.

“Petey!” Morgan pushed off of Pepper until she let her down, then rushed over to hug his legs. He smiled and bent down to hug her. “I missed you, Petey.”

“I missed you too, Mo,” he replied softly, giving her a kiss on the top of her head. He smiled up at Pepper and raised up slowly. “Thank you, Pepper. For helping with all of this.”

Pepper smiled and moved forward to hug him. “Of course, Kid,” she said softly. “Oh, I think you’ll be needing these back.”

Peter gave her a confused look as she pulled away and dug through her purse, pulling out a familiar glasses case. He blinked at her, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I deserve them,” he told her. “I messed up.”

Pepper pressed the case into his hands, placing hers over them. “The whole time that you were gone,” she started, her voice breaking a bit. “He was never the same, Peter. You changed him in a way that no one else could, and I truly believe that what kept him going was knowing that it was what you would want.

“I know that the only reason he agreed to help the others, was because if there was any chance that you would get to come back and live your life, he was willing to take it.” Pepper squeezed him gently, looking into his eyes. “And he told me that the one thing he regretted was never telling you how much he cared. He loved you like he was his own, and he trusts you to be the one to carry on his legacy.”

Peter took a shaky breath, looking down at the case. He carefully opened it and took out the glasses, reaching to put them on. “Hey, EDITH,” he said quietly, closing his eyes until he heard the familiar noise and blue started to show in the lenses.

“Hello, Peter.”

Peter smiled and looked up at Pepper again. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I. . . I don’t know what else to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything at all,” Pepper assured him. She carefully took her hands and placed them on either side of his head, bringing it forward and kissing his forehead. “If you ever want to come upstate for the weekend, you’re welcome to. We would be glad to have you.”

“Thank you, Pepper,” he repeated. “I’ll. . . I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Peter, you ready to get out of here?”

Peter glanced up at Happy, uncertain. He took a deep breath and nodded. You got this, Spider-Man. “Ready.”

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thequizzicaldreamer · 3 years

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Watched The Mitchells vs The Machines with my family last night and all I want is a spinoff that stars Eric and Deborahbot5000

they are MY beautiful baby boys now

#this week on MJ talks into the void:#the mitchells vs the machines

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harrysbbby · 5 years

Text

European Adventure - Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: hey everyone! it’s been a while (like two years but shhhh). here’s the first part to a new fic! i hope you enjoy. please let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part.

warning: far from home spoilers, but that’s it.

You sat in your assigned seat on the Delta plane headed for Venice, Italy. You were on your school’s science trip to Europe for a few weeks this summer vacation. You had your headphones in listening to your well manufactured playlist, scrolling through your camera roll ensuring you had enough storage for the mass of tourist photos you were bound to take, as the rest of the passengers boarded the flight.

To your left two seats over your classmate Brad Davis took his seat. You smiled at him as he took his seat but didn’t start a conversation. You thought Brad was okay. You’d known him since you started at Midtown and had many classes with him. Since you were part of the half of the universe who didn’t “blip” from existence, you continued to grow and age with classmates like Brad until the rest of the population returned. Of course, it was hard for both sides of the coin to adjust, but you found it particularly hard. Both of your parents had blipped and when they returned it was if they didn’t know you anymore- the age difference between 11 and 16 was stark. Brad was one of those people who that change didn’t affect as much, to be honest, it agitated you. Not to mention he was far too big for his boots as he acted more superior than those who were gone, at least that’s how he came off to you.

Suddenly, you saw him grab his things and leave his seat. You peered over the seat in front of you to see what all the commotion was. You say Mr Harrington reassigning seats the row in front of you. You furrowed your eyebrows as you watched you teacher, very confusingly reconfigure the seating plan of his students. You faintly rolled your eyes as you diverted your eyes back to you phone.

You heard a body settle itself into the seat beside you and looked up to see Peter Parker looking upset and annoyed. You had always liked Peter. Call it a teenage crush, but you though he was cute, in an endearing and kind of dorky way. He was always very kind to you. You had sat next to him in your US history class and he was always willing to lend you a pen or let you copy his notes if your teacher was moving too fast for you to follow. You would consider him a pretty good friend, having sat with him, Ned and MJ at lunch a couple of times in an effort to make new friends with people who blipped back. Speaking of MJ, she was someone you envied. You knew Peter liked her, it was very obvious. How could he not? She was cool in a relaxed way and could match his banter in a heartbeat. Not to mention she had ridiculously high averages in all her classes.

“Hey Peter,” you said as he shuffled in his seat, peering atop of the seat in front of him, glancing at MJ who was now sat next to Brad.

“Hey,” he puffed out glumly as he slouched in his seat. Mr Harrington sat down in his seat and began recounting his equally hysterical and heartbreaking story about how his wife faked her death and ran off with some guy in her hiking group. Peter looked uncomfortable as he twiddled with the dual headphone adaptor in his hand.

“Oh cool, you have dual headphone adaptor,” Mr Harrington exclaimed, “we can watch movies together.” Peter’s face dropped even more at the suggestion, the crease between his eyebrows becoming clearer.

You laughed at his expression and leant over to whisper in his ear.

“Don’t worry, I’ll watch movies with you. I know I’m no MJ but I’m a much better option than Mr Harrington.”

His cheeks went bright red at the mention of MJ, but he laughed with you and nodded, whispering back.

“Yes please, you’re a lifesaver”

***

The trip had been pretty good so far- you spent the 8-hour flight watching movies and chatting with Peter, despite his clock-work like check-ups on MJ and Brad. Even after the flight you continued to hang out with him. Ned and Betty had begun their whirlwind and frankly random romance, meaning Peter was left without a best friend. You filled that void with ease, slipping into conversation with Peter easily at every opportunity. Although he would talk about his ‘plan’ with MJ a lot, you didn’t mind. You enjoyed spending time with him, the only downfall was that it strengthened your crush for him, which was recipe for disaster given his infatuation with MJ.

You were currently walking around Venice. Peter had gone off to buy a necklace for MJ so you were admiring the sights alone. You saw the two of them near the edge of the water. You walked over to Peter, as MJ was crouched on the ground looking at crabs fleeing the water. You saw him holding a small gift bag in his hand.

“Oooh, is that it?” you gasped quietly in his ear. He lent away from you, as if the quietness of your voice hurt his ear. He brought his hand up to his ear, as if it was in pain, but brushed it off as if he was going to scratch the back of his neck.

“What? Oh, oh, yeah! This is it,” his voice trailed off as he looked behind you. You followed his gaze to a water drain that was drastically sucking water down. You and Peter both cocked your heads, staring quizzically at the drain until a huge BOOM came from the water.

A huge monster came bursting out of the water. Peter instinctively put his arm out in front of you. You saw Ned and Betty’s gondola speeding towards you. Peter quickly grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him as the boat slammed onto the marina and into the building behind you.

“Ned, Betty, are you okay?” He yelled as he helped them out of the gondola. MJ stepped across it as you all started to run away. You looked up at the creature. It would have to of been hundreds of meters tall, the same size as a small high-rise, smashing fiercely through the villas.

“Y/N! Get out of here!” you faintly heard Peter’s voice as you felt his hand grab your bicep and dragged you over to where Ned was. You heard him say something to him through gritted teeth but the only word you got was “face”.

Ned grabbed you forearm and pulled you with him as he ran up the stairs. You clumsily made your way up the stairs, as you continued to stare at the gigantic monster. Once at the top of the stairs Ned let go of you and continued to run. But you stopped. Where was Peter? Why wasn’t he running with you? You continued around the corner, glancing behind you every few seconds to see fi there was any sight of him.

After the fourth glance, you saw him- he was at the top of the stairs where you had stopped only moments ago. You opened your mouth to shout him name. It barely left your lips. You halted mid-scream as confusion took over your body. You exhaled as your brow furrowed as you stared at the boy…

… and the long white string of whatever-the-hell-it-was leaving his wrist?

Tag list:

sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged, you were all in from last time or someone who’s been tagging me in your things :)

@mrsnegan25 @accidentally-in-hell @miss-37mm @i-am-mina @supermegafoxyawesomehot @loveyourselfcreateyourself @sarcasticfangirlxx @huggablex @thiscuriouslymiss @littlxshitv @spideyspoods

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #spider-man #spiderman #spiderman x reader #Spider-Man: Homecoming #spider-man far from home #far from home #tom holland #tom holland x reader #mj #ned leeds #zendaya #zendaya coleman #mysterio #jake gyllenhaal

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twobitmulder · 4 years

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MCU Spider-Man 3 Pitch

I have not been the biggest fan of the MCU’s take on Spider-Man, but I do think there’s a way that they could close out his trilogy and make up for a lot of what didn’t work while also staying true to what’s been done in the first few movies.

So picture this, it’s been a few months, maybe even a year, since Spider-Man was framed for Mysterio’s death. Stark Industries lawyers have been able to convince a judge that the footage was doctored to put Peter’s face in in it, but that’s only improved the situation a little bit. Half of New York still thinks Peter is Spider-Man and the other half at least think Spider-Man murdered Mysterio and framed this kid. Happy and Stark Industries have had to distance themselves from Spider-Man publicly because even though Peter Parker is technically legally innocent, Spider-Man is still wanted for murder.

Ned and MJ stand by him, but the fact of the matter is that the world is just against Peter Parker on all fronts....

That’s when Norman Osborne shows up. Norman is a tech genius and his company Oscorp has always been a sort of quiet competitor to Stark Industries. Since the Snap (or the Blip if you prefer) they’ve raised their public profile and are doing a lot of work cleaning up the world. Norman approaches Peter much like Tony did. He knows Peter is Spider-Man and he’s offering him a job with Oscorp, a way to save his reputation and earn some money (Stark Industries covered the legal fees, but the constant attention has put a strain on the already sparse Parker family budget). Norman is putting together a new team, to fill the void left by the fracturing of the Avengers...the Thunderbolts.

Now Peter isn’t an idiot. This all feels sort of suspect. After all, Mysterio came to him as a fellow hero too. So he does his due diligence. He checks with Dr. Strange and looks as far back as he can into Osborne’s past, but he can’t find a blemish, what he does find is that Osborne knew his father, worked with him when they were in Grad school, and it leads to a very tender father/son moment between them.

So he agrees to become a Thunderbolt on a trial basis. May doesn’t like it, but Peter is 18 and she can’t stop him. MJ thinks he’s nuts. “You got lucky trusting one billionaire, you’re crazy to trust a second one.” Even Ned, trying to be supportive, can’t help but feel that something is off.

Peter meets the other Thunderbolts. Max Dillion, who can control electricity, Sergei Kravinoff, who has enhanced strength and agility, and Dimitri Smerdyakov, their own personal Black Widow and master intelligence operative. They have an early run in with Mac Gargan, now in possession of a suit of power armor and calling himself The Scorpion, but the real clincher for Peter comes when, responding to an attack by some kind of sand monster, they capture a very alive and well Mysterio.

With the path to fully clearing his name now open, Peter comes to fully trust Osborne who tells him how he wants to do what the Avengers couldn’t. He wants to build a suit of armor around the world.

Meanwhile, MJ and Ned are still suspicious and they break into Oscorp where they find Osborne’s scientists running tests on Dillon, Kravinoff, and Smerdyakov. But worse than that, they find Beck and Gargan free, and getting equipment upgrades from Oscorp scientists. They’re captured and interrogated by Osborne. MJ tells him that she’s got him all figured out, that he’s just running the same scam that Beck was, creating fake disasters to swoop and stop. But Osborne tells her that it’s much more than that. Peter represents the possibility of a new generation of heroes, young and impressionable that he can mold and shape, effectively putting the next generation of super people entirely under his thumb. Luckily for Osborne, Beck’s stunt with the doctored footage helped alienate Peter enough for Osborne to get his hooks in.

Later, Peter is worried that he can’t get in touch with MJ and Ned, but Osborne tells him not to worry, tells him that his destiny as a hero is beyond all that and that he’ll make new friends, friends on his level. Osborne shows Peter files he’s been keeping on other young people with powers (and here we can take an opportunity to show off some upcoming characters, I think Angelica Jones, Bobby Drake, and Sam Alexander would be fun Easter Eggs) that he wants Peter to start training to be the next generation of Thunderbolts.

This starts to rub Peter the wrong way and he wonders if maybe MJ and Ned were right. He hacks Osborne’s computers and steals some files on the Thunderbolt Project and takes them home to sort through them. On his way home he gets a call from MJ telling him to meet her in Central Park.

By the time he gets there it’s dark and he sees not MJ, but Aunt May meeting with someone who looks just like Peter. Before he can call out to her he’s blindsided by a masked man (Kraven, but Peter can’t tell) who pins him down and makes him watch as the False Peter (Smerdyakov) locks eyes with Peter and makes it clear that if he makes a sound he’ll kill May. Kraven asks for the data Peter stole from Oscorpe back. Just as Peter is about to hand it over he sees May wallop Smerdyakov.

We cut to May kicking Smerdyakov’s fallen gun away from him and asking him where Peter is. Smerdyakov’s shapeshifting falters and we see a new form, a blank, smooth white face.

“How?” He asks.

May sneers at him. “You think I don’t know my own son?”

A webline hits Smerdyakov square in the chest and Peter rockets into frame, knocking him onto his ass. Kraven rushes him and Peter yells for May to get clear.

Suddenly an explosion rips through the park. Osborne, in something almost like a cross between an Iron Man suit and and Vulture’s wing harness, swoops down, picks Peter up, and plucks the data stick from the pocket of his suit, then throws him into a nearby building where Peter blacks out.

Peter wakes up in a hazy and brightly lit version of his bedroom. He sits up on his bed and makes eye contact with someone across from him.

“I let you down didn’t I? I tried to...I tried to be better. I tried to...”

“Pete,” an unfamiliar voice says, as we pan to the other end of the room and see, for the first time in the MCU, Benjamin Franklin Parker (I’m imagining Nick Offerman, but Toby Maguire would be fun too). “You could never let me down.”

Peter tells his uncle that he thinks he made a mistake, that he doesn’t know who to trust anymore, and that this whole Spider-Man thing was supposed to be to make Ben proud, to make up for...well, Ben knows...but it never seems to turn out right. It just feels like he keeps getting drawn into other people’s messes and making a mess of his own life and he’s tried to be his own person but it feels like the more he’s Spider-Man the less he knows who he’s supposed to be. Is he Tony? Is he Osborne? Is he an Avenger or a Thunderbolt? Ever since he got drawn into this people have been talking about his potential and he’s afraid that he’s not going to measure up to what people expect of him. And Ben very gently tells him that it’s not about measuring up. It’s not about being the next Tony Stark but better or becoming an Avenger. It’s not about measuring up to anyone’s ideal. It’s about knowing that he’s making a difference because he feels it’s the right thing to do no matter whether the rest of the world sees him as an Iron Man or a menace or an Avenger. And he tells him that he knows he knows he’ll do the right thing, because he can’t not, it’s who he is, it’s in his actions every day.

Peter wakes up to May frantically doing chest compressions on him in the middle of a collapsed public restroom in the park. He almost tells her what he hallucinated while he was out, but he can’t bring himself to. Instead he says they need to get to a computer.

Peter reveals that he made a backup of the data and stored it in the suit’s computer. He opens up the files and they find out that Osborne is planning to release the personal information of his teenage Thunderbolts candidates to every budding super-criminal and news outlet in the world. He’s gonna back them all into a corner the way Peter was, destroy their lives so he can pick up the pieces and turn them into his loyal army.

Following an SOS from MJ Peter find Osborne and confronts him in the Oscorp Tower while Aunt May sneaks in and rescues MJ and Ned. What follows is a climactic fight where Peter takes on Osborne’s Sinister Six while May, Ned, and MJ make their way past Oscorp’s security to stop the data leak.

The fight spills out into the city and Peter shows off his experience as Spider-Man, staying one step ahead of his multiple foes and pulling civilians out of harm’s way.

May, MJ, and Ned manage to stop the data leak from Oscorp Tower but Osborne reveals he can just as easily release it all from his suit. He points out to Peter that as far as the world is concerned, he and the Thunderbolts are new superheroes while Spider-Man’s reputation is still in doubt.

“Keep fighting me and they’ll hate you forever” Osborne says.

“It doesn’t matter if they hate me” Peter says, tearing the computer systems out of Osborne’s suit. “It matters that they’re safe.”

The day saved and the villains defeated and incapacitated, Peter limps to the top of Oscorp tower where he meets May, MJ, and Ned, as they watch as the sun rises over the city.

Cut to a few weeks later and the media is still divided whether Spider-Man is a hero or a menace. Norman Osborne has been taken to The Raft after a data leak from Oscorp Tower revealed business dealings with remnants of Hydra, AIM, and the Fisk Crime syndicate. MJ, filling out applications for a journalism major at ESU, looks knowingly proud and justifiably smug as this is reported.

The film ends as Peter, in his Spider-Man suit, approaches a young girl sitting on the edge of a rooftop, flames dancing on her fingertips. Ned and MJ monitor him from a jury-rigged computer display and talk to him through his suit.

“Hi,” Peter says to the girl, “Angelica Jones?...Can I talk to you for second? I think I can help you.”

Post Credits Scene 1: Peter is visiting Dr. Strange again who tells him that he honestly can’t say if the vision Peter had was anything more than a near death hallucination, but that he should take comfort in knowing that the people we’ve lost can still help us once they’re gone, even if it’s just their memories. Peter presses the issue and Dr. Strange shrugs and says anything is possible. There are infinite worlds after all, different planes of existence, different dimensions.

Peter Scoffs, “That’s just something Mysterio made up to con us”

“Well even a broken clock is right twice a day” Strange replies.

Post Credits Scene 2: Osborne is locked up in The Raft. Footsteps approach. General Ross comes up to his cell and shakes his head.

“Beat down by a kid Osborne. Well, even so, you still put together a damn impressive team. I had some ideas about continuing your little project. I do really like the name.”

#That ended up longer than I expected #I sort of wrote this in a frenzy over two days before the news about Garfield and Maguire broke #I'm not crazy about the idea personally since it's already been done and been done better than the MCU could hope to #spider-man #MCU #peter parker #movie pitch #I had a devil of a time figuring out the Uncle Ben scene but it's too weird to have a whole Spider-Man series without mentioning him #I know it sort or hits some of the same beats as Far From Home but I did not realize that as I was writing it #this ended up as more of a fanfic than a pitch #I realize on the one hand that it might be more fitting for Miles to be the one Peter comes to at the end #But I think Miles deserves a fuller intro than a tag scene #really the best way to introduce Miles would have been while Peter was dead in the five years between Infinity War and Endgame #C’est la vie maybe we get an interquel later

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timep3tals · 4 years

Note

Ooooh if you're doing drabbles, something from i swear i'll come back to you universe where we have a very overprotective and stressed tony and peter just trying to drive properly that somehow results to a minor accident?

this ask makes me so happy ;-; im so glad you’re enjoying i swear, i’ll come back to you, enough to ask for a piece of that universe!!! i hope i do it justice

also, a link to the full story (which I will update hopefully in the next two weeks or so!): i swear, i’ll come back to you

—-

Two weeks have passed since Peter’s unexpected, non-zombified return to the land of the living. In those two weeks, Peter hadn’t seen anything beyond the same old compound walls. Tony decided the best course of action (without consulting Peter, mind you, who’s the one who came back from the dead in the first place) was to lock him up at Avengers Compound, send all the workers on their unexpected but very well deserved paid vacation time, and settle down for constant Badger Peter Until His Ears Bleed time.

Bafflingly, May agreed with Tony.

Everyday she made the hour or so long trip from New York City to upstate. May wouldn’t even consider taking him back to New York until his quote-unquote “issue” had been “resolved”. Peter was of the opinion that his issue (being dead, that is) had already been resolved, and he would very much like to get back to his life, please and thank you.

Unfortunately, they still hadn’t figured out why or how he’s back, so… yippee, hooray, he’s a walking, talking mystery. Doctor Strange visited fairly often, Christine in tow, to poke and prod at Peter with shiny needles and sparkly magic. Peter couldn’t really tell you what they were looking for — he was alive. It’s not as if death could linger on him.

At the very least, Tony tried to keep Peter entertained. If left to his own devices, Peter would likely sneak out as Spider-Man (or at this point, even plain ol’ Peter would suffice), so he figured it was probably for the best Tony insisted on spending as much time as humanly possible together doing everything the genius could concoct, all the while under the compound’s watchful eye. Or FRIDAY’s watchful eye. One in the same, really.

One of those activities was finally making good on the promise of teaching Peter how to drive. Really, he was more terrified than excited anymore.

Especially because he was currently behind the wheel and Tony was bossing him around from the passenger seat.

God help them all.

“Peter, Peter,” Tony said. His hand was tight on Peter’s arm as he steadily drove the car around the compound. He’d been panicking for most of the ride, and yeah, sure, Peter gets it. New driver and all, but the new driver already had anxiety and he didn’t need Tony Stark adding to his hysterics. “Slow down.”

“I really can’t go much slower than this,” Peter complained. “I’m at fifteen miles an—”

“Fifteen?” Tony clasped a hand to his chest, and Peter might’ve cried had he not been able to hear Tony’s steady, albeit quick, heart beat thundering in his chest. “My god, kid, are you trying to kill us?”

“What? No!” Peter groaned. He gripped the steering wheel even tighter than before. The plastic began to warp under his brutal grip. “This is slow, are you serious? You drive around at like, a hundred plus all the time.”

“I’ve also had years of experience,” Tony pointed out. He eyed the nearest pole, some twenty feet away, with fear and disdain. “Thirty-seven, to be exact. I can speed if I damn well want to, but you’ve never driven anywhere before in your life.”

Peter bit back the automatic retort of, Because I died. Otherwise he would have well over a year of experience, but he didn’t think Tony would take well to a reminder. So he bit his tongue, despite the overwhelming urge to scream and fight.

“I’m driving around a building,” he said instead.

Irritated at both Tony and his own inability at driving still, Peter pressed down on the gas pedal a little harder. The speedometer inched higher until he was hovering around twenty-five. Tony’s heart rate jumped up in time with their speed, and he reached over to grab onto the wheel.

“Peter, stop!” he said urgently. “Let me take the wheel.”

“Will you quit?” Peter snapped back. “I can handle twenty five miles an hour!”

Tony looked between Peter and the outside world as the car jerked and swerved under their mutual grip. “Stop the car!”

“No, get off!”

“Peter, the tree!”

The car jerked as the front end slammed into the tree. The airbags didn’t deploy, but Peter felt momentarily choked by his seatbelt before he rocked back into the driver’s seat, stunned. Tony scrambled to unbuckle himself, sitting up and leaning over as he began to check over Peter.

“Are you okay, kid?” he asked. “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me—”

Peter knocked Tony’s hands away, sick of his constant fussing. Tony sat back in his seat, startled at the sudden show of force.

“Knock it off, Tony!” he shouted. “You’re driving me crazy, and I can’t take the constant nag, nag, nag. I know what happened, I know how much time has past but you have got to let me breathe! I’m just as scared as you are but you’re going to suffocate me before anything else kills me! I don’t want to die either, you know! I’m constantly afraid to vanish again but never know it because there was nothing while I was dead! Nothing but emptiness — a void I-I know is there, but it’s just nothing! So please, stop trying to smother me and let me live again!”

By the end of his rant, Peter was heaving for air. Tony’s brows nearly touched his hairline, staring at Peter as if truly seeing him for the first time in two weeks. Frustrated, Peter jerked his head to look out the driver’s side window and wrapped his arms around himself.

A hand brushed through his hair. Peter didn’t fight it.

“Hey, kid,” Tony said, quiet. “I’m sorry. I forgot this is all just as difficult for you as it is for me. I’m not trying to suffocate you, I…”

Tony took a deep breath, sounding as though about to cry. Peter turned his head back to his mentor, heart aching.

“I already know what it’s like to lose you, kid. I never, ever want to experience that kind of pain again. Losing you took away everything I thought was good in this world. All I want to do is protect you.”

“I know, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, “but you gotta let me be my own person again. I love you, I do, I love you so much, but I can’t live wrapped in bubble wrap.”

“And you shouldn’t have to.” Tony studied Peter’s face before opening his arms. Peter unbuckled and eagerly dipped into the hug. No matter how angry he was, he’d never refuse a hug from Tony. Especially not when every hug now came with guaranteed hair-playing. “I’ll try to back off. No promises, but… I’ll give you some space. Some, Peter. You’re still going to have me hovering over you as often as I can, but it’s because I love you.”

Peter’s eyes burned. Tony had never said I love you out loud before.

“I love you, too.”

“I know.” Tony scratched his fingers along his scalp, and Peter shived with the pleasant sensations. “You’re a great kid. The best.” He patted Peter’s shoulder, and when he spoke again, he sounded like he was smiling. “Now, you wanna send a text to those nerd friends of yours and see if they want to come up for movie night? No hovering, I promise.”

Peter pulled back. “Really?”

Tony nodded. “Sure, kid. Besides, someone has to fix up this car now.”

Oh, yeah. Yikes. Peter grimaced. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Tony reassured him. “Now get out of the driver’s seat. I’m driving us back to the garage.”

Absolutely beaming, Peter eagerly jumped out of the car and let Tony take the driver’s seat. Movie night with MJ and Ned was only the start, but Peter felt as if it was the first step to getting the life he’d known before back. And he couldn’t wait.

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