#accidentally have her hair as pepper because I forgot to change the hair color

[ilikedetectives]

[fortheloveoffanfic]

This Christmas pt4

John Wick x Reader 

Masterlist    This Christmas Masterlist. 

Y/n had gone to bed the previous night with her time with John playing on a loop in her mind. Regardless of her efforts to drop the issue, she just couldn't help but wonder what had made him pull away. Or if he was ever going to kiss her at all. The debate had rattled around her mind until she succumbed to sleep, only for him to be the first person on her mind when she awoke the next morning. 

It was just past eight am and Y/n was getting ready to meet John at his room, and then Robert in the lobby so they could all head to an investor's brunch when three short taps on her door had her making short work of finishing up with her shoes so she could get to the door. "John?" She stuttered, shocked that he'd made his way to her door much earlier than they planned to meet. 

"Hey, are you ready yet?" He began, clearly not in the mood to spare a minute or two for pleasantries.

Knitting her brows, Y/n looked down at herself before glancing at John again, “Do I look ready?”

She watched as his eyes roamed her form, trying not to stare altogether, “Is this a trick question?” Y/n had suspected he was done and was about to confirm that she was not ready, when John hastily continued, “Cause you look fine. Well, not just fine. You look great actually,” he gestured to her outfit, “I mean,” clearing his throat, John took a short breath and Y/n smirked at how uncharacteristically flustered he was, “You look…..nice, like that I mean.”

Heat rushed to Y/n’s cheeks and he bent her head, too giddy by his compliment to respond immediately, though, she eventually pulled herself together enough to let him know that she was almost done with her hair. He hadn't out rightly said so, but as Y/n finished up, occasionally peeking at John pacing the sitting room, she quickly realized that he was in a hurry and tried to make short work of pinning her soft waves up into a stylish half-updo. 

"Ready," caught off guard, John, who seemed deep in thought, jumped slightly and Y/n had to suppress the urge to giggle as she slipped past the open door, collecting her clutch.

Turning to face her, John stood, stunned speechless for a moment as he stared; in awe of how one simple hairdo seemed to elevate her entire look; highlighting her makeup and boasting the parts of her shoulders that her dress had left exposed. "You….I…."

"Thank you," Y/n chuckled, knowing that speechlessness was possibly the highest praise she could get from John, unlike most times, he wasn't being quiet because he wanted to be, but because he simply didn't think any words would suffice.

Ducking his head bashfully, he grinned surprising her, and Y/n blushed at the realization that she was the one that had roused it from him. "You're welcome."

"Ready to go? I'll just text Rob and-"

"Actually," cutting her off, John cleared his throat, "I actually came to give you something," quickly, he reached into his breast pocket, producing an envelope held closed with red ribbon, "Merry Christmas, Y/n." He presented it awkwardly and had already seemed flustered when he stepped closer to hand it over, "I hope it's not too late," John noted softly as she relieved him of it. 

"Well it is only Christmas Eve, so technically you're-" gasping, Y/n's went wide as she eventually pulled a lone plane ticket out of the paper pocket, "Does this mean……?"

"Yeah," he wasn't smiling, but John's rugged features seemed softer somehow; fonder. "Yeah," he clarified, "You should be with your family Y/n, not here with me. It was wrong of me to-"

Flinging herself to his chest, Y/n captured John in a hug, tossing her arms around his neck and standing on the very tips of her toes so she could bury her face in his neck. His cologne overwhelmed her senses, or maybe it was just the sheer emotion brought on by his touching gift, and she teared up, shutting her eyes tightly to keep the moisture from falling. "Thank you," she breathed, squeezing him tighter when John finally submitted to reciprocating. 

"It was my pleasure," he spoke softly as Y/n reluctantly loosened her embrace though not letting go as she leaned back to meet his eyes. "We should get going though, you're flight leaves soon," he seemed uncomfortable with their proximity, even if he'd kept holding her at the waist.

With quivering, anxious lips, she blurted out; "Come with me." It wasn't a question, instead, more of a suggestion or and offer. If he came, then everything that Y/n thought that she felt between them would be proven real. If he came then they had a chance. 

"I….." John gazed at her, his expression one Y/n had never seen him wear. So indecipherable that she wasn't sure what to expect next, though, when he lifted one of his hands to let his thumb brush the apple of her cheek, his stocky fingers tangled in her hair. "Y/n….." Her name on his lips was breathy and laced with longing and John even leaned down, getting close enough so she could almost taste the coffee lingering on his breath. Arching into him, she was prepared to take an unspoken response as a 'yes' when his expression turned pained and he swallowed thickly, shaking his head, "I can't," he let her go, stepping back as she dropped her hands, "But I can drive with you to the airport."

"Why not?" Clenching her jaw, she bit back tears. She could understand the first time, when they were on the balcony; in the near darkness with shadows dancing on their faces it was easy to misread signals. But that morning, that very bright Christmas Eve morning, it was easy to see that he wanted to kiss her, but he was holding himself back, for a reason she couldn't fathom. 

"Because," looking around the room, John sighed heavily, "I have to work and this morning is important and-"

Shaking her head, Y/n scoffed a dry chuckle, "I can't believe it; I thought you'd changed. But you're always gonna be this person."

"What kind of person?" John's head snapped towards her direction, his brows knitted in irritated confusion. 

"The kind of person that's so ice cold he can't bear to let anyone in. And this," she held up the ticket, "This is just because you're feeling guilty. And I'm not gonna accept it just so you can clear your conscience," hastily Y/n shoved thrust the ticket to his chest, “If you still want me to go, I can find my own way there.”

Gently grasping her wrist, John guided her hand away from his chest, “This isn’t me feeling guilty,” he gritted, “I’m trying to do something nice for you, because……” Desperately, Y/n clung to John’s unspoken words, “Because…..just take it Y/n, it’s a gift. And I mean it when I say that I’m not doing this so I can feel better about myself, I’m doing it because….I…..want you to be happy, and being here doesn’t make you happy.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped and while they weren’t exactly the words she wanted to hear, coming from John, they meant so much. They meant that he, even if he wasn’t going to admit it, was putting what she wanted above what he needed. But more so, it meant that he was choosing to be lonely again, because heaven knows he wasn’t going to spend Christmas with Robert, just so she could be with her family. “Thank you,” cocking a half smile, her eyes softened, only to light up a moment later, “I almost forgot, I got you something. I was going to give it to you tomorrow, but since I’m leaving-”

“Oh,” suddenly unsure of how to behave, John grew red in face and started stuttering, “You didn’t have to-”

Collecting a small gift bag from behind her tote, set on a small, glass dining table. It was glittery with colorful trees peppered about it, with white and green paper sticking out from the top and when Y/n offered it to John, she could tell that the sentiment alone had touched him. “It’s not anything as fancy as a plane ticket, but I just thought you could use…..a little bit of color. Merry Christmas John,” standing on her tiptoes, she handed over the bag, simultaneously pecking him on the cheek, near his lips.

Even after she’d moved away, John remained rooted to the center of the floor, holding the gift bag as if he wasn’t sure what he should do with it. “Thanks,” he managed, still dazed, “You really didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know,” shrugging, Y/n stopped rearranging the things she left laid out on the table, something she’d been doing to keep her hands busy, “But I wanted to. Besides, my mom always said everyone should get at least one thing from someone that cares about them on Christmas. You sure you don’t want to come with me? They won’t mind.”

“No,’ he brushed her off, “I’ve got a lot of work to do. But I hope you have a good time with your family.”

Nodding, Y/n smiled faintly, “I will.” As he moved to step around her, intent on leaving her room to let her pack, their shoulders brushed accidentally and Y/n’s eyes locked with John’s. The minute seemed to stretch on forever, but that time, knowing that nothing would come from it, she was the one to turn away, disappearing into the small bedroom, leaving John to let himself out.

Without Y/n, the ride back to the hotel after brunch felt void of warmth. Of course, Robert had tried to strike up conversation once or twice, but John wasn’t in the mood; his head was far away, thinking of the morning with Y/n, their almost kiss, their spat, the way she looked at him before walking out of the room. The way she pecked him on his cheek, so close to his lips that all it would have taken was the slightest shift for his mouth to be on hers. And yet, he hadn’t taken the chance. 

That didn’t mean he hadn’t wanted to though, John had been thinking of what it would be like to kiss Y/n since they were standing on the balcony the night before, and perhaps even longer. He’d wondered if she would reciprocate; part of him clung to the belief that she would, but alas, he was terrible at reading the signals and terribly afraid that kissing Y/n would mean driving away the only person that really cared about him. She cared, she’d almost spelt it out too.

“This is new,” Robert noted beside him, reaching across to flick the end of his navy blue and forest green plaid scarf, the fringed ends shifting as he did, “Nice colors.”

Clearing his throat, John gathered some of the length in his palm, feeling the softness between his rough fingers, a perfect contrast and soothingly warm. It was the gift Y/n had gotten him, the one he’d unpacked the minute he shut his suite door behind himself. The one that had come with a little card in the bag that read ‘for your first real Christmas. Maybe next year we’ll try a sweater.’ The scarf had been a pleasant surprise and John knew that it was definitely because she’d noticed that black dominated his wardrobe, “I just thought you could use…..a little bit of color” 

“Thanks,” he nodded, his low tone gruff, “It was a gift.”

“From Y/n,” Robert probed curiously, causing John to roll his eyes. 

Nonetheless, he confirmed, “From Y/n.” Then catching Robert’s knowing look directed to out the window, coupled with his mischievous smirk, John sighed heavily, “What?”

Shaking his shoulders, Robert  bent his head, pretending to fiddle with his phone, “Nothing,” the other man hummed quietly. “It’s just…….she’s amazing, you know?” And as he began, John rolled his eyes in a bid to quell his jealousy. “She sees the good in people, and she sees the good in you.”

Suddenly defensive, John interrupted, not willing to let Robert add to his inner turmoil, “”Look, I don’t know why you’re telling me this but-”

“I’m telling you this because she won’t. I’m telling you this cause Y/n is my friend and I care about her and she cares about you and all you ever seem to do is upset her. I’m telling you this because she’s a good woman, and I know we’re not friends or whatever, but I’d hate to see you two miss out on something great because you’re too stupid to fess up to your feelings. I see the way you look at her.”

Huffing, John leaned back into the warmed seat of the back sedan, “Yeah? Lemme guess, cause you look at her the same way?”

“No,” Robert chuckled wistfully, “Well, I mean, I used to, but she doesn’t want me like that, and that’s okay, we’re better off as friends,” he shrugged indifferently, “But I see the way you look at her, and I know what that means because it's the same way she looks at you.” 

Finally coming to terms with the confirmation that she did, by some miracle, feel the same, John slumped his shoulders. What came next was perhaps more peculiar that him admitting his feelings, and even Robert seemed surprised by his admission, spoken so softly that he might have said it more to himself than anyone else, “I think I blew it. And now she’s gone.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” shaking his head, Robert exhaled quietly, “She’s not gone. She’s in Connecticut, and for what it’s worth, when I spoke to her after her flight landed, she was pretty bummed that you wouldn’t go with her; cause she doesn’t want you to be alone tomorrow.” 

Still rubbing the soft fabric between his fingers, John sank into thought after merely a mumbled response; maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late after all. 

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

The PA - Chapter 2

Pairing: Tony Stark x named!Reader

Summary: You’ve been at Tony’s side for years now and you never complained until he comes back fromt he mission. Injured. Again. This is where it all changes.

Warnings: Tony Stark (you know what I mean), swearing, maybe a smut, fluff, angst, a lot of angst

A/N: Ok, I never, ever written a story with Stark. It has been sitting in my laptop for almost a year now, so I decided to go ahead and publish it. I really hope you like it.

Here is the edited part, betta’d for me by the amazing @tmnt-bucklover​. Thank you <3

Oh, and Pepper does not exist in this universe. I mean like there was not Pepper in the picture :) And TAGS are OPEN for any of my stories :) Just send me an ask <3

Word count: 2839

The party was going to happen in two days and you were still preparing some last-minute changes. Some people couldn’t come and well, there was no way Stark Tower wouldn’t be filled with people during one of Iron Man’s parties. So yeah, there you were, putting some finishing touches on the plans.

Tony officially came back to work a week ago and took some of the work from your shoulders, which you really appreciated. You didn’t spend time together. There was too much work to be able to just sit down and relax with a cup of hot chocolate.

“Miss Green, Mr. Stark is asking for you”, you raised a single brow hearing the mechanical voice above you. You looked at the clock on the nightstand and sighed. It was almost 3 in the morning. He should be sleeping.

“Please tell me he is at least in his bedroom”.

“That would be a lie, Miss Green, and I am not programmed to tell lies,” you couldn’t help but chuckle at Jarvis’ answer.

You took the elevator and went underground to the boss’s special room. There was only one place he would be at this time of night if not in his bedroom. At least you knew one thing: if he was there, it meant he was alone. No pretty girl was enjoying the time of her life with the handsome billionaire. Were you jealous? Of course. You always wondered if he would at least try to make a move if you were a bit sexier.

You didn’t even know where you would start with that. Makeup was always a nightmare for you, so you never wore it. Hair normally in a high ponytail, jeans, and loose t-shirts could never compete with tight, short dresses worn by all the other women. Even if you tried, you just didn’t see yourself in those kinds of dresses. You left the elevator and gasped seeing him on the mechanical bed without his shirt on. You swallowed hard and took a deep breath before walking to him.

“You asked for me”, he turned his head and smiled at you sadly, seeing you not in pajamas. Something inside him hoped you were sleeping. He thought that him coming back to work would let you work less but apparently, there was more that needed to be done than he thought.

“I need help with this”, he pointed at his chest and his ‘heart’. You gulped, understanding what he meant. You knew everything there needed to be done when it came to the arc reactor. It was a great piece of technology that amazed you every time you looked at it. “It’s time to change it and I’m a bit too tired to do it by myself”, he continued, seeing your scared look.

“I’m…I’m not sure it’s a good idea, sir…” He chuckled shaking his head.

“Come on, darling, you’re not just my secretary. You were the best in your year-”, You blushed hearing his pet name. “-at M.I.T.”, you looked away not used to the

compliments. You took a deep breath and looked inside the hole, blinked a couple of times, then put your hand into it.

“The wire…the wire, find the wire”, you started whispering to yourself, making him smile a bit seeing your focused face. “Oh, god…the pus, I forgot about the pus”.

“Yeah, sorry. Just remember it’s not from my body”, you nodded, concentrated too much to care about the tone he said it in. One wrong move and you could kill Tony fucking Stark. He raised his brow when your other hand rested on his stomach when you touched the wire inside of him. He felt a small amount of energy flowing into him from your hand. You started to slowly take the wire out of him. You were careful. The flow of energy from your palm would erase the pain if you did accidentally touch the wire to the walls. He trusted you with his life, not because of the healing abilities but because you were a smart kid and were one of the most matured people he knew, including himself. Which honestly, was not hard to top. Before he noticed, the new reactor was placed down his chest, and the energy stopped flowing. Your breathing quickened a bit and your hands were coated in fluids.

“You did great. Here, sit down”, he made you a place next to him. Taking a wet towel, you rested next to him and sat down. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” He laughed and you couldn’t help but agree. You touched the great reactor and it was an unholy feeling. Your eyes moved back into the arc and your lip went upwards just a bit.

“Why are you not sleeping?”

“Well you called me in here, didn’t you ?”, you answered laughing a bit.

“You’re still in your clothes and you got here way too quickly to have been able to change before.” You widened your eyes and looked away.

“Just wanted to make sure that everything’s ready and done for the party”, you bit your bottom lip nervously, hearing him sigh. “You…you should rest as well”, he leaned his head down, not taking his eyes off you.

“What color are you wearing?” You looked up, not understanding the question.

“You’re the organizer of the party and my co-worker, I can at least wear something that matches. That would look good, right?”, he winked at you and frowned when you bit your lip nervously again.

“I’m not coming, sir…you don’t have to worry about the colors…”

“What do you mean? You made this party happen. Plus, it’s a Christmas party we do every year.” He wasn’t happy with the fact that you wouldn’t come. Whatever you had to do could wait.

“I never went to any of the other parties”, you answered, almost whispering, slowly getting up and walking to the sink to clean your hands up from the sticky fluid that was still there.

He couldn’t believe it. You’ve worked for him for three years. Two Christmas parties, two New Year’s Eve parties, and a couple of other ones throughout the year. Not one party? What was worse was that he had never even noticed it. You helped him with all of them and he didn’t even care to notice your lack of presence.

”Why?” His voice was more stern than he planned for it to be. You leaned on the sink and sighed.

”Parties aren’t my thing…”

“I wouldn’t mind you bringing your boyfriend, you know...unless you already have a date with him and don’t want to miss out on it”, he added, hoping it would get you to change your mind. He wanted you there. You laughed out loud and turned to look at him. You were a bit flustered but your eyes were on his.

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Mr. Stark”, he widened his eyes, surprised to hear that. “I don’t have time for something like that”, your voice sounded amused but sad at the same time. “Never really did”. Your face was as red as a tomato now. You shouldn’t have said that but it was too late to bite your tongue. You looked away and turned around, leaving him alone. 

Surprised? Amused? He wasn’t sure how he felt hearing all that. How was that even possible? How could someone so pretty and who had such a kind heart have never had a boyfriend? He cursed under his breath, knowing that flirting or even trying anything at the party was not an option. After all, you didn’t look like a one-night stand type of girl.

**

The sun was shining through your window, waking you up from the nice and much-needed sleep you were getting. You looked at the calendar and sighed. 23rd of December. The day of the huge Stark party and the day of your birthday. After your mother’s death, you never celebrated it. For eight years you didn’t care about this day because you had no one to celebrate it with.

“Happy birthday, Miss Green.” Oh yeah, there was only one that remembered this day. Well, it was somehow programmed into him so it was more of an automatic thing.

“Thank you, Jarvis. I hope you didn’t remind Mr. Stark about it?” You didn’t want the man to remember the day only because a machine reminded him. You weren’t mad. After all, you were no one special so you wouldn’t even expect him to remember. You always remembered his birthday, though.

“Of course not. You programmed me not to do that, remember?”, you giggled and apologized to the machine before going to the bathroom. You knew it would be a long day.

Even if you weren’t planning on going to the party, you would definitely hear it. After all, you lived in the Tower and it was not going to be a quiet party. You took a look in the mirror and sighed. The bags under your eyes were getting bigger and bigger. You needed good night sleep. Maybe even more than one. You quickly washed and got dressed, walking to the kitchen afterward to make something to eat. You stumbled over a box that was laying in front of the door, noticing it had a piece of paper with your name on it. Frowning, you picked it up and went back inside to check what that was.

You gasped seeing what was inside- a beautiful, long, red dress. A traditional one with fallen arms that showed definitely more than you’d like. However, you couldn’t disagree with the fact that it was a beautiful dress. Under it, there were black heels and some jewelry in a smaller box. You gulped seeing a piece of paper under all of it:

             Lex,

            I know you said you’re not coming but you know me. You organized this party so there is no way in Asgard that you miss it! I’ve booked a hairdresser and makeup artist for you so I will pick you up at 7 as a real damn gentleman would do. At least that’s what Cap says…

P.S. Happy birthday, darling.

You looked at the letter with huge eyes in complete, utter shock. Did Tony Stark, THE Iron Man and one of Avengers, just kind of ask you out? ‘No! He’s just being nice.’ you thought. You looked at the clock and gulped. You had a whole day to make yourself beautiful for him, even though it was for this one night only.

**

It was almost seven and you felt anxiety rise in the highest possible way. You were walking around the room, playing with the hair you had put into waves. You wore a bit of natural makeup, with red lipstick the makeup artist said was supposed to make you feel more comfortable and sexy, but didn’t. You looked at the mirror and felt sick. How could you show up with Tony Stark and be at his side? Him, a handsome billionaire, standing in front of his own secretary that couldn’t even pull off a traditional dress.

You jumped and squealed, hearing a knock at the door. You took a very deep breath and turned to the doors, opening them slowly. There he was. In a three-piece suit, looking like a God. Thankfully, due to your small height, you were still smaller than him even in heels.

“Shit”, he exhaled, checking you out from head to toe. “You look…wow!” You blushed when he offered you his arm. Smiling at him, you closed the doors behind you.

“Well the dress is beautiful”, you whispered, not even able to look at him. “It does all the magic on its own.”

“The dress wouldn’t look so good if the one wearing it wasn’t smoking hot…and if…you know. Jesus, this has never been so hard before.” He sighed, but looked at you hearing a quiet chuckle leaving your lips. “Am I amusing you?” He acted offended but the small smirk gave him away. You both went into the elevator.

“Sorry, but it’s actually new to see you stumble while talking to a woman.” You couldn’t help but giggle.

“Sure, laugh at an old man!” he barked, which made you stop in your tracks, surprising him. You pouted looking at him angrily. “What?”

“You’re not old!” You answered, crossing your arm around your chest. The sincerity in your eyes made him smile softly. He leaned down and kissed you softly on your cheek.

“Thanks, kid!” He whispered, making you blush. As much as the tone made you feel warm and nice, the words made you feel an uncomfortable pinch in your heart. “Kid”. Is that all you were in his eyes? Just a kid who worked for him? You looked down at your dress and wondered why he did all of this. Was it because he felt sorry for you? Was it because you never had a boyfriend and he was just trying to be nice? Well, it was your birthday, after all, the first one he remembered. But it still felt wrong. Your good humor was gone which didn’t go unnoticed by the man.

“What is it?” You shook your head rapidly and put on the most beautiful fake smile you could manage.

“Just stressed. Never been to a party like this.” You answered half honestly.

“Never? How about high school or uni parties? Or the prom? That was huge.”

“I never went to prom”, you shrugged feeling his gaze on you. “No one asked me and it just felt weird to go alone and well, I was always too focused on studying at uni…” you gasped when he curled your arm around his and started to walk towards the room. 

“I’ll make sure you never forget this party.”

**

You were looking at Stark talking to people you have never seen before. If you knew their name you would probably know who they were but from their faces alone? No. You sigh and took a sip of champagne you grabbed at the beginning of the party. It was already warm and kind of disgusting. It was almost an hour into the party.

“Here”, you looked up hearing a familiar voice. Natasha Romanoff was smiling kindly at you, sliding you a new glass. “That must taste gross now”, you chuckled, nodding your head. 

“Great job by the way. With the party.”

“It’s…it’s Tony’s party.” You answered shyly. You really weren’t good with compliments.

You missed the little smirk on her lips when she caught you calling your boss by his first name. She knew you always called him Mr. Stark, which she knew truly annoyed him, but apparently, something had changed. She decided, however, to let that go.

“We all know that Tony would be screwed without you.” You took a sip from your drink to hide the growing blush. “He’s an idiot, you know.” You frowned, not understanding. “You need to give him time. He’ll notice your feelings. One day.” You shook your head and smiled sadly.

“There are no feelings, Natasha.” Your voice was quiet and low. How was it possible that someone from the outside noticed how you felt towards the man, but not him? You smiled sadly, seeing her pointed look that told you she didn’t believe you. “Even if there were…who am I to even hope for him to love me back?”

“Love?” She asked, visibly surprised. Apparently, she did not expect your feelings to be that deep.

“It’s been two years, Nat. If he wanted to notice, he would’ve.” You stood up and finished your drink. “It’s ok. Not like I would ever have a chance with someone like him.” Before she was able to answer, you turned around on your heel and started to walk around and look for Tony. You wanted to leave but it was unpleasant to just go without a word of goodbye.

You were even thinking of playfully asking him for a dance until you turned and noticed a long-haired blonde with a body out of this world, leaning onto Tony with her lips on his. His hands were on her waist, pulling her closer to him. You gulped and were about to turn around and leave, when he opened his eyes and noticed you standing there. He pushed the woman away and looked at you in surprise.

“Lex…” he exclaimed, thinking of a way to explain this situation.

“Oh, who’s that? Your daughter?” The woman looked at you and smirked, hugging Tony’s arm. He sent her an angry look but before he was able to say anything, you stepped in and smiled at the man.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but I just wanted to say goodbye, Mr. Stark. I’m not feeling too well,” you lied. You were about to turn and walk away when he stopped you, grabbing your arm.

“Hey, I still haven’t gotten a dance from you”, you blushed a bit but shook your head. You took your arm from his grasp and apologized quietly.

“You should ask your partner…she seems like she’d say yes”, you answered. You left the party, not seeing the painful expression on his face.

[butmomilovepeter]

Little Snip of a Little Man, I Know I’d Give My Life For You

y’all get bonus points if you know the song the title is a lyric from 

guys it’s true i would absolutely die for @parkrstark but i haven’t written a fic without tony playing with peter’s curls in like three months and i think it’s her fault (or the best idea in the world i haven’t decided)

so here’s so shameless peter whump PLUS curls 

i don’t know when this takes place, just bare with me. 

[tw: there’s a lot of blood]

~

“Mr.Stark, I don’t think that’s a good idea-”

“Don’t you trust me, kid? We’re going in.” The chemical warehouse is dimly lit, and he can hear the last thug rummaging through shelves.

“No, no, I do, but it just feels wrong.” The kid sounds so damn sure, but he doesn’t change his mind.

The man comes out from the shelves, his rusty knife dripping in a green liquid that looks somewhat like a melted jolly-rancher, and Tony’s ready to blast him, but before he can, something shocks his body sharply. He’s vaguely aware of his suit going dead and Peter getting stabbed in the leg with that knife before giving in to the pain.

This wasn’t the kind of mission you could just mess up. So how in the fucking world did Tony manage to do just that? He should have listened to the kid. Maybe he wouldn’t be withering on the dimly lit cell floor, desperately clawing his ears and coughing up blood.

Now the kid’s poisoned, and he has no suit and no way of contact with the others.

Yeah, Tony fucked up big time.

The kid’s face is exposed as he cries, because that neat group of low grade thugs were actually not so low grade and decided to learn some stupid spider-kid’s identity. He’s gonna kill each and every one of them.

“Mr.Stark, it hurts so bad.” Peter bites back a scream. Tony had decided hours ago there was no way he was letting this kid die alone, so he gingerly hugged Peter close to his chest as he cried.

For the first time in awhile, he feels helpless.

The wound in Peter’s leg is tinted with the same green liquid as the knife, and while Tony had attempted to wrap it with his ripped jacket, there was no way of telling what would happen if he accidentally touched it.

Peter claws at his bleeding ears again, and there’s so much blood.

It stains the ground, Peter’s lips, Tony’s shirt and hands.

It leaks from his ears, nose, mouth, leg.

Tony wants to scream as much as Peter does.

“I know, I know, it’s okay, Petey, it’s okay.” He grits out in a tentative voice, trying hard to keep his voice from cracking or showing any signs of uneasiness. Something like a mantra repeats in his head as if to say Let him know you love him. You have to show him. Don’t let him die alone.

The other part of him keeps saying He’s not going to die, because I’ll kill him if he does.

He wipes the blood away from his face with his sleeve.

He can’t shout to get their attention in fear of Peter’s sensitive hearing, so when the metal door swings up with a creek, he’s almost relieved.

He still cradles Peter close, shielding his face from the sudden light. It’s a man with a tall build, a buzz-cut, and a thick beard. The look on his face is one of cruelty, yet there was a tight smirk on his face as he meets Tony’s eyes.

“The famous Iron Man, captured by my hand. It’s truly an honor, Mr.Stark.” His words are of praise, but his voice gives Tony goosebumps. He feels Peter stiffen in his arms.

“And who are you?” Tony growls. The man’s smirk becomes a creepy grin.

“Ah, the name’s John. John Kenton. You don’t know me, but my guys have been trailing you for years.” He takes a step closer, and instinctively Tony clutches Peter tighter. John pulls back and chuckles.

“And that’s why you’re here.” He pulls out Peter’s mask from one pocket.

“What?” Tony chirps.

“We like watching what makes the great Tony Stark tick. What he hates, what he knows, but most importantly, what he loves.” John pauses and pulls a wad of gauze from his other pocket. “And because you keep eyes on that pretty little fiancée of yours at all times, we went for second best. The public seems to adore your relationship.” He gestured towards Peter, who was desperately trying not to cry out in pain. He watched as John rolled the gauze in his hands a couple of times before tossing it to him. He caught it without thinking, but didn’t register its use.

“That was your plan? Lure me and the kid to you silly little warehouse and kidnap us?” Tony wiped more blood from Peter’s nose.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” John snapped his fingers, and the same goon that stabbed Peter came in holding a tray. On it was what looked like water, though it was slightly grey, and a bread-type food. He set it down in front of them without looking up.

“The gauze is for his leg. He hasn’t got long, but it’ll still be fun to watch him die without you being able to save him.”

Tony felt the anger build up inside, and it took every part of him not to fight.

“Then what? You kill me?” Tony asked sharply. John simply shook his head and chuckled.

“Too easy. You’ll see what we’ve got planned.”

The metal door closed loudly, and the scream Peter had been holding in came out in a loud coughing fit. Tony carefully wraps Peter’s leg, and once he’s done he runs a hand through sweaty curls. He slides the tray over with his feet and sits Peter up, bringing the “bread” to his lips.

“You gotta eat, bud. You’ve got a spider metabolism, remember?” It’s a lame attempt, but Peter manages to take a small bite before coughing even harsher, his nose gushing.

“W-What’s happening t-to me?” He bites out, tears flowing down his cheeks. “I c-can hear v-voices. Why are t-there voices?” His hands cling tightly to Tony’s shirt.

“It’s okay, little man, it’s just me.” Tony soothes, tucking his head under his chin. “Listen to my heart, okay? Block it all out.”

He should have just listened to his kid.

~

The next day somehow gets worse. He knows in the back of his mind that the kid is going to die, but God knows he’s not going to give in so quickly.

He’s a sickly green color underneath the blood, and the raging fever on top doesn’t help at all. Tony’s taken to using to dirty water to wet stripes of his jacket in order to cool him off, but it’s almost no use.

“Talk to me, kiddo. It’s boring without your chatter.”

Peter barely stirs at first, but he slowly opens an eye to look at Tony.

“Talk?” He croaks out. Tony nods.

“Tell me a story, any story.” He returns his hand to his head of hair while Peter pulls a thinking face.

“Did I have tell ya ‘bout the time Ben an’ me saw a moose?” Peter slurs, his head drooping into Tony’s chest. Ben. Peter doesn’t mention him often. Only on the bad days.

Tony guessed this counted as a bad day.

“No, kid, you haven’t. Do tell.”

Peter nods, but then winces and touches the blood from his nose.

“Um, he took me to Maine for a camping trip. We were walkin’ and it came outta nowhere. He walked across the trail and went back into the woods. It was like we ‘magined it or something…” Peter trailed off and his head tipped back dangerously, Tony stopping it before he could swallow any blood.

“Tony,” he began after a minute of coughing. “Tony, am I gonna die?”

He doesn’t call him Tony unless he means it.

Tony sighs, and the tears he had been holding in since they arrived came out in one breath. He shakes as his hugs his kid, his boy, as close as possible.

“I don’t know, kiddie, I don’t have the answer.”

But he did have that answer.

~

It’s day three that’s both the best and the worse.

The kid won’t stop bleeding. It’s like a murder scene from a crime drama and Tony wants to burst right into tears. His eyes are hazy and unfocused, his skin boiling so much that even Tony is sweating. Peter has barely eaten or drank anything for three days and it’s catching up to him.

“Tony, Tony, make it stop!” Peter screams, sobbing in Tony’s arms as he rocks him tightly.

“Shh, Peter, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

But it’s not fucking okay.

Peter wraps his bloodied arms around Tony’s. He’s so small and childlike that it hurts Tony greatly.

“I can’t stop hearing them. It hurts so bad.”

Peter calms down after a bit, but it’s different.

The look on his face is a clear indication that he was dying.

Tony gently cups the back of Peter’s neck, using his free hand to sooth him by untangling the knots in his greasy hair.

“Peter, hey, look at me.” He says softly. The boy whimpered and looked up. Tony wiped stray tears from his face, finding a new sense of parental love he didn’t really know he had.

“I’m scared.” Peter cries. And it breaks Tony’s heart. “I don’t want to-- I don’t-”

He chokes on more blood before Tony can turn him over. Tony shushes him and cradles him and wishes it were him instead.

“Hey Peter? Kid?” Peter looks up again.

“Yeah?”

“I love you, you know that? I forgot to say it before.” The words come out before Tony even realizes, but he means them all the same.

Peter tries for a smile, but his features go kind of slack before he can.

Eyes half lidded, Tony takes a shaky breath and waits, trying to give every ounce of love he can in one hug before the kid leaves him for good.

He’s ready to hear the kid’s last breath, when suddenly to door swings open, and it’s not John or the knife guy, it’s Rhodey.

“Tony! Tony--” He freezes when he sees Peter. “Oh my God.”

He rushes to Peter’s side, laying a hand on his forehead.

“He hasn’t got long, reunions later.” Tony grits out, placing Peter in Rhodey’s arms. Rhodey gives a tight nod, and as they exit the cell, Tony grabs the mask from John’s unconscious body.

~

Peter lives.

Barely.

It takes three days for Helen Cho to find an antidote, and another four for it to work.

Pepper comes and goes, and while normally Tony would really need to be pushed to eat, he could eat half of Russia and still be hungry. So she brings him food and kisses his head and holds his hand and it’s nice.

But he doesn’t let himself feel at peace until Peter finally opens his eyes.  

It’s slow and he doesn’t see him for a little bit, but when Peter finally looks at him without blood all over his face, he breathes.

“Tony?” His voice cracks.

“Hi, little man.” He doesn’t know where the nickname came from, but he decides to stick with it. Peter smiles with tears in his eyes, but this time they’re happy.

“I feel like my bones disappeared from my body.” Peter whines. Tony laughs slightly.

“That’s what happens when you get poisoned, kid.”

Peter smiles again, and lazily closes his eyes. Tony thinks he fell back to sleep, but then he speaks.

“I love you too, by the way.”

[buckykingofmemes]

ice cream man answers

(you guys sent in so many asks im posting all my answers to the ones you asked at once, so i dont take up your whole dashboard.)

chocolate marshmallow: favorite brands of candy? not sure about brands, but i tried pop rocks and they changed everything i knew about reality and what food is

peach: how do you relax? sometimes i fight nazis. thats a nice way to vent steam. petting dogs or cats or birds or literally any other animal is a winner every time. making food is a good because its constructive and at the end i get food. sometimes steve and i go running. but not early in the morning because mornings are terrible.

coffee: favorite cosmetic brands? i dont wear much makeup but pepper breaks out some sephora stuff when we have to go on tv? i like OPI nail polish.

birthday cake: favorite books? i recently read and loved the harry potter books. im a hufflepuff, just so you know.  (Mod Hell loves the Dresden Files, pretty much everything by David Webber or Robin McKinley or Tamora Pierce)

french vanilla: how old are you? buddy, i dont fuckin know anymore. a little under 100, by the books, but how the heck am i supposed to count the cryofreze?

(Mod Hell: I regularly forget my own age, but I’m pretty sure I’m 24)

fudge: turn offs? nazis. really not into nazis. 

chocolate: when was your first kiss? i was…7, probably. grade school sometime. me and stevie saved this girl mary from a real jerk of a bully and she kissed both of us, one right after the other. sent stevie straight into an asthma attack, poor kid. but she was both of our first kisses.

neapolitan: things that stress you out? public speaking. steve inside any aircraft. trains. not having any weaponry. bad hair days.

bubblegum: books or movies? totally depends om my mood. movies, maybe, because they can be more of a group activity, but dont require a ton of social interaction.and the novelty of being able to watch films in your own home hasnt quite worn off.  but i do like to read a lot.

toasted coconut: the beach or the pool? my beach experiences involve either a lot of 1. storming +fighting nazis or 2. sand in my cool robot arm,  which is not fun. so pools. even though im not buoyant enough to float anymore so i wear swim fins on my left arm.

mint chocolate chip: indoors or outdoors? outdoors, when the weather is right.

moose tracks: favorites for manga? orange sherbet: favorites for anime? i read fullmetal alchemist.and then watched the anime. all of it. it was really good, although i feel like clint only showed it to me because of the robot arm thing. its the only manga or anime ive experienced so far, but i really liked it!

blueberry lemon: favorite blogs? i love @iguanamouth‘s crazy animals, and i follow a couple knitting blogs, as well as @dailybadjokes, just so i have some really terrible puns to use when nat breaks out her dad jokes.

superman: do you like sweaters? do i like sweaters. friend, i live in sweaters. i haveta knit em special though so they dont have a left sleeve because otherwise the plates in my arm catch on the knit.

blackberry: have you ever laughed so hard you cried? yes. the first time steve tried out the vibranium shield he missed the rebound and hit himself in the head with the flat side. he flew a good six feet through the air, knocked himself clean out. it was beautiful. i was crying. howard fell over, he was laughing so hard.

cherry: do you drink tea or coffee? yes. it is how i am alive. 

raspberry truffle: favorite kind of music? i have a hard time with this one because im still learning so much about modern music. me and thor like listening to heavy metal, and i like tonys classic rock n’ roll, but im also really fond of the music of the 30s and 40s, the stuff i grew up with. 

praline: a popular book you haven’t read yet? i havent gotten to game of thrones yet. people keep telling me such and such a character is gonna die, but im not sure how they can have that many dead characters and still have enough people for a book.

(Mod Hell has not, and never will, read Fifty Shades of Grey)

toffee: a card game that you’re good at? so far, all of them. but rummy is my game, friends. i will kick anyones ass at rummy.

(Mod Hell has an inexplicable affinity for Up the River/Down the River. And Irish Poker, if you wanna count that as a card game)

mango: when and why did you start your blog? my therapist recommended i write about things that were happening in my life, and mentioned that blogging was a good way to do so. i dont think this was quite what she had in mind, but here we all are, so... anyways, this blog was started on october 10th, 2016.

rocky road: favorite songs at the moment? can i count the entire discography of pink floyd? tony recently introduced me to them and they’re pretty great.

(Mod Hell has been enjoying Down Like Silver’s Wolves, because my taste in music is very very morbid)

butter pecan: favorite songs for life? this is a hard one. lately i have been enjoying fleurie’s ‘soldier’ because im a cliche sonovabitch 

strawberry: a language you wish you could speak?

dog. do dogs talk? not sure but if they do i want in.

butterscotch: what color are your nails right now? uhh... silver on the left, none on the right? except for my right pinkie, which is black because thor accidentally set his hammer down on my fingertip. so theres a blood blister there. gross. but they were red last week. me an nat had a nail night. 

(Mod Hell is rocking a matte black and gold french manicure. I’m getting good at those!)

mint: the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?one time me an the howlies were having a night on the town and i drunkenly forgot steve was huge and i tried to pick him up (i mean literally lift him. i wasnt hitting on steve) because i thought he was still tiny.  i failed. steve did not budge at all.  and in the process of trying to regain my balance i overcompensated and fell into the thames. which wouldnt have been so bad if all the howlies and the girls we were with hadnt been right there laughing at me. its probably not the most embarrassing thing ive ever done but its the first that comes to mind.

 (Mod Hell accidentally flashed a lifeguard once, so quickly I was never sure if he actually saw or not. Still super embarrassing.)

green tea: favorite flavors of ice cream? yes. all of them. now, please.

(Mod Hell:  chocolate chip: what’s your most popular post?  If you’re counting this blog, the “new years resolution: 1080p” post got picked up by a couple bigger blogs and is the frontrunner at 21,000+ notes. Original posts at hellenhighwater usually fade out at like 20 notes. So there’s a bit of a gap there.

Mod Hell: black raspberry: do you have any pets? Oh man yeah. I have two cats, Nimitz and Yamamoto. Nim is small and black and puffy and made primarily of homicidal urges. She is the Terror of the Underbrush; the Reaper and Eater of Souls. Yamamoto is 23 pounds of superbly useless cat. Her favorite activity is slowly petting the stair banister post with her paw. I also have a mated pair of domestic Violet Ringneck doves named Vexation and Vendetta who live in my bedroom, though I’ll be building them an outdoor coop to vacation to in the summer. Vex and Ven are the most wonderful idiots. They live life like it’s a spanish soap opera. Everything is very dramatic and seductive and not in a language I understand.)