#Like if Elon musk turned out to be a paramedic on the side

[phoenixcatch7]

Like I know it's self indulgence but it'd be so funny to see a full kardashian style Brucie Wayne, spoilt playboy prince of Gotham, local sunshine idiot on the front page every other week for darwinian levels of idiocy or billionaire levels of donations.

But he gets kidnapped or something and there's illusions or mind magics that make him think he's in the bat suit and then he gets dumped in the middle of a live world broadcast arena to fight some goons.

Like he doesn't think anything of it, batman's been kidnapped and forced into gladitorial arenas for sport many times before, maybe he always carries concealed weapons so he's still got like grapples and batarangs and stuff, but he's just going full doomslayer on these guys. No cowl. No suit. Just an open silk shirt and a pair of slacks. In full view of the world.

Tell you what, what about the whole justice league. Just a group of the motleyest people you've ever met. There's about as many famous people as there are absolute nobodies.

Several billionaires defer to the guy who writes articles on outdated lead in buildings and socio economic corruption. There's a renowned museum curator flying and uppercutting aliens so hard they get tossed across the room. There's a guy who spoke in science conferences about meta containment procedures running up the wall and delivering a roundhouse kick to three enemies at once. Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen. Of all people. Two world famous idiot ceo celebrities. And they're back to back whaling on armoured alien henchmen like a well oiled team. A ten year old podcaster shooting lightning from his fingers and no one in the group bats an eye.

Just.... Insanity.

[starkerforlife6969]

Howard buys Tony an Omega part 6 - Starker

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I received an amazing list of prompts, and this is just one of them, but they were all so good you can probably expect the rest soon, you genius anon: tony is driving when he and peter are in an accident, cue tony's guilt and hovering

TW: car accident, mild references to injury, Tony feeling guilty, v mild angst, a/o dynamics  

High off his summer graduation, high after the rush of his degree (top of his class, of course) Tony finally feels a little more settled come that Christmas.

He feels like an adult. He’s been working for his dad’s company since he finished college, but in the new year, he’s going to branch out. Start up his own tech place. Wow investors with the charisma that oozes out of his pores.

To kick off his new adulthood, a Christmas alone with his omega, nestled in their snowy cabin in Vermont, is the perfect bon voyage. 

Speaking of, he lets his eyes drift from the icy road to Peter. The omega’s cuddled up on the passenger’s seat, feet tucked under himself, facing Tony (that adoring gaze leaves a warm mark on Tony’s cheek. Or well, it had, for the first few hours. Peter’s asleep now) and snug as a bug in Tony’s college sweatshirt. 

Tony can’t wait to see Peter’s face as they drive up. He’s had the place decked out. There are gonna be lights everywhere, a huge Christmas tree- presents already wrapped, christmas crackers and a roast dinner already waiting for them.

He knows Peter loves to cook, but just this once, he’s going to have to make do with being lavished by other people. 

Jingle Bell Rock is playing quietly on the radio- but the connection keeps getting cut out. Tony’s not surprised. This far into rural Vermont, the connection’s spotty. There’ll be premium wifi once they’re there, though. 

His mother had tried to insist on them having Happy drive them, but Tony had shrugged her off. A road trip with his omega was the best early Christmas present. Stopping along diners for piled-high pancakes, stopping to take photos with state road signs- Peter’s face as gorgeous landscape after gorgeous landscape rolled by the window. 

It’s been brilliant.

Tony’s never been this happy. 

He doesn’t take his eyes from the road when they near the icier turns. He slows down, he shuts the radio off when the static between giddy up jingle horse gets to be too irritating. 

It doesn’t stop it. A deceptive looking patch of snow covers a deep crack in the road, and his grip on the steering wheel isn’t quite strong enough.

There’s a horrible lurch, a bad feeling in his stomach-

And then it all happens so fast.

***

When he wakes up, silent night is crooning without a hitch on the radio, and his face is burning. 

He lets out a strangled gasp when everything comes flooding back to him. He jerks and flails. He’s upside down- all the blood is in his head, and he scrabbles for purchase, he can’t see anything out of the windscreen but white snow.

He turns desperately and-

The passenger side is empty.

“Oh god,” he chokes, fumbling for his seatbelt and collapsing into a heap when gravity hauls him down. It takes a few frantic moments to right himself, but when he does, he crawls out of the passenger side door which has been flung open. 

It’s freezing. A bone-chilling type of cold, and Tony gets to his feet- feeling dizzy, but, but otherwise okay, except not okay, because-

“Peter!” He yells, white puffs of ice hovering in the air after he speaks, “Peter! Baby, are you-” he turns wildly, and there, he spots his college sweatshirt and a tuft of honey hair.

It’s hard to sprint through the thick snow, but he does the best he can, dropping to his knees beside the fallen figure.

Tears burn as they slide down his face, and he carefully- gently- turns Peter over.

His omega is pale, snowflakes caught on his dark lashes, and there’s a small trickle of blood down the side of his face.

Agony lurches through Tony’s stomach. He wants to vomit, but instead, he cradles his omega as gently as he can, fingers shaking not from the cold, as they feel for Peter’s pulse.

“Sweetheart?” He croaks, voice pathetic, “Peter, baby, are you okay? Please, please, say something, I-”

There’s a pulse under Tony’s fingers. Not a weak, quiet thing, but strong and firm and consistent.

Relief swells within him. 

“Peter,” he says again, more loudly, “Peter, Peter, wake up, darling, baby, please-” 

There’s a gentle moan, and those amber eyes are revealed to him.

They’re unfocused, a little dizzy, but okay. 

“Ton…” Peter slurs, eyebrows furrowing together in confusion, “‘r you…”

“Don’t you dare worry about me.” Tony hisses through tears, reaching over to scoop Peter more firmly into his arms.

Fuck, this is all his fault. What kind of shitty alpha is he? They’re out here now- Peter’s so small, so cold, Tony holds him tight, looking around, thoughts racing.

In the distance, he hears a motor.

“Assistance has arrived.” The cool, automated voice of the car chimes, and Tony collapses, Peter in his arms, and thanks the sky that Elon Musk designed his car.

***

Peter dips a chicken leg in gravy and takes a huge bite of the delicious, crispy skin.

Tony watches him like a hawk, pushing another bowl of stuffing towards him.

His omega shoots him a gorgeous, lopsided smile. “Alpha,” he giggles, even as he takes a spoonful, “you eat!”

Tony doesn’t want to eat. He reaches over the table, cups the back of his boy’s head and kisses his shiny, buttery lips. “I want you to eat.” He murmurs, giving Peter more mashed potatoes. 

His omega looks up at him with curious, clever eyes, but doesn’t ask again.

He can sense it, probably, the fear and worry radiating off of Tony in waves. Peter’s always been very good like that.

Tony doesn’t want to eat. He has no appetite. He had no appetite when he’d batted away the hands of the paramedics who’d tried to tend to his non-existent wounds. He sent them to Peter- his Peter, who he hasn’t taken his eyes off since it happened. His perfect Peter sitting perched in the back of an ambulance, wrapped in a silver blanket, torch shining in his eyes.

“You guys are just fine,” the paramedic had told Tony warmly, dropping them both off at the cabin, where a number of attendants were anxiously awaiting them.

Tony had glared at him. “I don’t want Peter to just be fine,” he’d snarled, “I want him to be perfect.” 

“He’s going to be okay, son,” the man had promised, “just a little rest and warm food, I promise.”

The cut on Peter’s head, nestled in those curls, has only needed butterfly stitches. A small nick. Head wounds always bleed a lot, Tony knows that, but still.

A long hot bath, some fluffy, non-snow logged clothes, and here they were.

Peter, eating an enormous roast for two, all by himself.

Tony pours him more juice.

It makes him feel better inside. Warmer than the new sweater and sweatpants and fuzzy socks. He feels warmer seeing Peter with chicken between his teeth- starlight in his eyes.

His boy drinks the juice even though Tony doesn’t think he’s thirsty. 

He keeps eating until Tony finally stops offering him food.

“Okay, baby,” Tony murmurs, moving round the table to hoist his omega into his arms and carry him over to the couch by the fire. “I’ll get you some dessert. I had them make fondant, your favourite. How’s that? Hm? With some hot chocolate and marshmallows and whipped cream? And chocolate shavings, of course, and- you like sprinkles, don’t you? My little rainbow omega.”

Peter sits where Tony’s perched him amidst the cushions on the couch, and reaches up, clutching his alpha’s large hand in his two smaller ones.

“Alpha,” Peter pouts, a warm blush across his cheeks, “‘m really not hungry. Just want you.” 

Tony chews on the inside of his mouth. “Just some fondant then,”

Peter laughs, and pulls him down onto the couch.

Well, he tries, bless him, and Tony flops down onto it anyway, drawing the boy into his arms.

Peter snuggles into him, peppers kisses all across his face. “I’m okay,” Peter whispers, not for the first time this evening. “Really I am.”

“You could’ve been so hurt,” Tony splutters out, turning his head away from Peter’s affections. He doesn’t deserve them.

His omega won’t let him wrangle away that easily. Sits on his lap and keeps kissing him. “You saved me. Good alpha.” The boy chirps, pressing a kiss onto Tony’s left eyebrow.

Tony hugs him tight, breathing him in. “I fuckin’ love you, Pete.” He whispers, “if something happened to you, I’d just-”

“I’m here,” Peter promises, sinking into Tony’s embrace. “I’d never leave you. I promise.”

***

In the morning, Tony wakes up to a full english, and Peter’s expectant eyes. 

He has to sit in bed and eat every last bite, not that it’s a hardship, he’s starving and Peter’s the best cook he knows.

He tries to bite down on his hovering, on his urge to smother Peter with affection, to not let him out of arm’s reach, and he tries his best to smile. “What’s on for today then, gorgeous? We can do anything you like. Sledging? Go to the little market place in town?”

Peter moves the breakfast tray and snuggles up beside him in bed. “Just stay here?” He asks, finding his place cuddled on Tony’s chest. “Watch movies.”

A whole day with Peter B Parker in his arms? 

“That sounds perfect, baby,” Tony mumbles, his relief palpable, holding him close. Goddamn, Peter can see right through him. 

He can feel Peter’s smile through his shirt. “Maybe some fondant later?” Comes the sweet voice, lilt hopeful. 

Tony laughs at that, full bodied and surprised, “how about a whole fucking fondant? How about three?” 

Peter whoops and Tony tickles him till the sheets are a mess and the Grinch is wrapping Cindy Lou Who up as a present. 

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