#do you think that no matter how hard he tries Peter keeps running into MJ or Ned after the spell

[itsybitsybatsyspider]

don't think im gonna get around to finishing this so have the sketch <3

[crushed-like-an-ant]

how to calm down an angry billionaire

Step 1. Deflect.

Peter was good at deflection. Always had been. It was a skill he'd picked up after people constantly tried to ask him about his feelings after his parents died, then again when Ben died. Any questions he didn't want to answer quickly turned into an animated conversation about whatever his mind thought of first (there had been that awkward time he'd asked a fellow orphan how their parents were), an apology and fast excuse to get the hell out of there (mostly worked except when he was panicking and the best he could come up with was a cheese making competition, that had caused a lot of questions Peter would rather never deal with again), or just flat out running away (sometimes he ran into poles or walls which was always a bit embarrassing given he was literally Spider-man). Sometimes Peter had to use all three options. So Peter knew when Tony finally decided to have the dreaded conversation about the whole not-my-first-time-holding-up-a-building thing, he would be able to deflect it. Or so he thought. Turns out, Peter had drastically underestimated the sheer stubbornness of Tony Stark.

It was a lab day, around three weeks after the incident where Peter and Tony had been stuck under a building and Peter stupidly let slip that he’d held up a building before. Peter had thought Tony had forgotten about his words. He was comfortable, tentatively confident and optimistic that it wouldn't be brought up again. He had no idea how wrong he was.

"Hey kid?" Tony said, cutting the comfortable silence between them as they worked, tone slightly hesitant. Peter should've picked up on it. He should've realised. But he'd grown complacent. So Peter ignored the dread pooling in his stomach and lifted his head from the mess of wires in front of him to look at Tony.

"Mr Stark?" he replied with a smile that Tony didn't return. Nor did he try to tell Peter to call him Tony. And that was how Peter knew something was wrong. Nerves skittered down his spine, clod fingers of dread snaking around his neck as nervous energy filled him and he began to tap on the desk. Anything to distract himself from the sorrow and worry shining in his mentor's brown eyes.

"Look kid, uh, I," Tony fumbled for words. Shit. This was bad. If Tony Stark was struggling to say something, you knew it was serious. Peter just stared at him in silence,unsure of what to say, anxiety coursing through his veins at the grimace that clouded Tony's features. What could possibly have gotten him into this mood? Had Peter done something wrong? Was he gonna, oh god, was he gonna take the suit? "Pete, I need to know what you meant when we were under the building," Tony finally managed to say, Peter relaxing. Oh. That was all?

"I just meant that I'd lifted a lot of heavy things," Peter half-lied, looking Tony straight in the eyes and lying to his face, mindful to make sure his tells were carefully under control. Training with Daredevil - despite Tony's misgivings about Double D - had been one of the best decisions Peter had ever made. He felt a twinge of guilt as he lied to Tony but it's not like he could tell the truth. And he wasn't really lying. Just withholding the entire truth. He shrugged nonchalantly, "Anyways, you reckon you can help me with this? I'm stuck. My mind kinda decided to go and die on me." Peter chuckled quietly. Tony wasn't laughing.

"I want to believe you, kid," Tony told him, "I really do. But I can't. You had a panic attack under there. What aren't you telling me Peter? Whatever it is, I'm here for you. You can tell me anything. And I don't want to pressure you into telling me anything until you're ready but I-I just-I need to know what happened. I need to know what you meant." Peter's resolve almost broke as Tony's voice broke. No. He couldn't tell Tony. Not only would Tony think he was weak, but Peter knew that Mr Stark would blame himself because he took the suit. Peter couldn't let him do that. Option one had failed him, so it was onto option 2. Make a quick exit without raising any suspicions. Yeah, he didn't think that was gonna work. Worth a shot though.

"Hey, Mr Stark," Peter said after checking his watch and pretending to look shocked at the time, "I'm really sorry but I have to go. I promised Ned we'd work on our Bio project tonight and I'm already seven minutes late." Mr Stark raised an eyebrow and pulled up a picture of Ned on his holiday in California.

"Nice try kid," Tony replied drily. Peter sighed, shoulders slumping. Time for option three then.

"I-I don't really know how to tell you, uh," Peter deliberately stuttered, guilt eating him up inside as he put on an act for Tony. For option three to work, Peter had to catch Tony off guard otherwise he'd react too quickly and lock the tower down. His act work, Tony's features softening and body relaxing.

"It's okay, bambino, take your time." And if that didn't make him feel like a horrible person, nothing would. Peter stood and padded over to some machinery near the exit, pretending to be trying to busy himself as he worked himself up to answering Tony when he was actually getting closer to the door.

"I, uh," Peter stumbled. Tony was now far away enough that Peter could easily run without being grabbed and stopped. The door was right there. Peter took his opportunity. He ran. Out the door, down the hallway, flying to the elevator. Pressing the button frantically, Peter groaned when nothing happened. Great. Tony had stopped the elevators. Sighing, Peter pulled the mask from his pocket and pulled it over his head, sprinting at the window. Peter burst through the window in a shower of glass, activating his web shooters as he fell, quickly shooting a web and catching himself. And he was swinging, swinging, swinging. Allowing himself to smile at his escape, Peter was unprepared when he was grabbed from behind by two cold metal hands. Thanks for nothing spidey sense. Tony flew a sulking Peter back through the broken window and into one of the meeting rooms, setting him down firmly in a seat. Peter crossed his arms, pouting as he pulled off his mask, Tony's Iron Man suit unfolding around him and the man stepping out, an unimpressed look painted across his features.

"You done deflecting yet?" Tony asked, a single eyebrow raised. Damn. Peter wished he could do that. Alas, no amount of practising in front of a mirror had ever given him the talent to lift one eyebrow and not look like a demented monkey. Time for a different strategy. Deflection had failed him. But Peter would not go down easy.

~~~

Step 2. Deny.

The unfortunate thing about this step was that Peter would always over-deny. He would deny everything or nothing. There was no in between. For example, he was once denying eating the last bit of chocolate and ended up accidentally telling May his name wasn't Peter and that he was an alien from outer space with a severe lettuce allergy. Don't ask. Peter really didn't want to relive that trauma. So although Peter always tried his best with denial, it never really worked out in his favour. Honestly, it was through sheer dumb luck that he managed to keep Spider-Man a secret from his friends and family for so long. It was probably some good karma that had been waiting for the perfect moment to help him out. It was a little late but hey, better late than never right?

"No," Peter blurted in a panic. Shock splashed across Tony's face as he folded his arms.

"Kid, you know you can tell me anything, right?" Tony told him gently.

"No," Peter exclaimed again, hurt painting the billionaire's face. "I mean, yes." Shitshitshitshitshit. Peter was an idiot. He had to deny everything - but not everything, Peter, remember the lettuce incident - so Mr Stark wouldn't find out. But Peter had always been shit at denial.

"Look, I know this is probably hard for you to talk about," Tony continued on, oblivious to Peter's internal panic, "but I won't judge you. I love you, bambino. You know that right? And I'll support you no matter what but I can't help you if you don't let me."

"No," Peter said. It was the only word he knew. Any more and he would have another lettuce incident or he'd end up rambling the truth. He couldn't do that. So his current vocabulary was limited to 'no', 'no', 'no' with a side of 'no'. Which wasn't suspicious at all. Totally.

"What the hell, kid?" Tony asked, mostly confused, slight irritation colouring his tone. Peter was hyper-aware of the thundering beat his heart was drumming to, the way Tony's slightly picked up when he said 'no', the sweat covering his body like a second skin. Tony's sigh sounded like a bomb to his sensitive ears, the sharp intake of breath before he spoke like a blaring alarm. "What did you mean when you said it wasn't your first time?"

"I didn't," Peter responded, brain not quite computing, "nothing happened." Tony's gaze narrowed. Shit. Was Tony going to take the suit if he didn't tell him? But Peter just couldn't tell him. He couldn't.

"Fucking hell Peter, just tell me dammit!" Tony exclaimed, running a hand through his messy brown hair in frustration. Peter knew - with the certainty that he knew his own name or the colour of his eyes - that denial had failed him. Time for Peter's next strategy.

~~~

Step 3. Stretch the truth.

When Peter's other strategies failed him, he turned to stretching the truth. It was simple really, just take the truth and dial it down from boiling hot to freezing cold and give it to the person on a silver platter with a charmingly innocent - and only slightly nervous - smile. Half-truths were easy to fool people with. Someone had said that the best lies were the ones based on truth. Peter couldn't remember who exactly had said that. He had never been very good with that sort of stuff, unlike MJ. So although stretching the truth was Peter's third option, he'd always been surprisingly good at it. People seemed to believe he was too innocent to be able to lie. Which was absurd because he'd spent ten years living with his Aunt and her terrible cooking and she still didn't know he hated her walnut date loaf.

"Okay," Peter conceded quietly and the rage slowly left Tony as he deflated like a balloon, looking smaller without all the fury. Peter sat down in front of Tony. "It was back in the fight with The Vulture and he threw a wall at me. I caught it and threw it back at him but he dodged it with his super awesome flying skills." Tony looked him straight in the eyes for a few seconds, Peter holding his gaze before Tony leaned forward.

"Cut the bullshit," Tony whispered, dangerously quiet, tightly compressed anger stemming from worry swimming in his brown eyes. "A wall wouldn't stay together if it was thrown, caught and thrown back. Even then, you wouldn't say it wasn't your first time while holding a building up unless you'd held up a fucking building already. And you wouldn't have a panic attack from holding up a building about something thrown at you. So stop lying to me, Peter Benjamin Parker." Damn. The full name. Peter released a heavy exhale, knowing he was beaten. He had to tell Mr Stark the truth.

"It actually was in the fight with the Vulture," Peter began, "so I wasn't lying about that. And I did have to catch a few walls." Tony raised his eyebrows at Peter's weak attempts at defending himself. "I went to his warehouse and he sent his flying suit at me. It wasn't particularly good at attacking 'cause it hadn't even touched me. I said that and Toomes told me it wasn't trying to." Tony inhaled sharply, clasping his hands together to stop them from shaking, Peter trying not to listen to how Tony's hands still hit each other gently. Enhanced hearing sucked sometimes. "He had directed the suit to take out all the supports in the building." Tony gasped, expression contorted into one of such extreme guilt and sorrow that Peter wanted to shelter Tony from the world for the rest of his days because goddammit he's seen too much and been through enough and couldn't the world just give him a fucking break for once? No one deserved one more than Mr Stark did.

"I took the suit," Tony whispered, voice thick with emotion, "I took the suit. It was your only protection, damn it, and I took the fucking suit!" Tony was yelling now, self-hatred and rage dancing in his wild brown eyes.

"It wasn't your fault, Mr Stark," Peter tried to tell him.

"How?" Tony scoffed, laughing bitterly, "How was this not my fault. I took the suit and you got hurt because of my mistake."

"It's okay, Mr Stark, you didn't know," Peter said.

"But I should've," Tony replied, "I should've known." Peter's features hardened, spine turning to steel. He wouldn't let Mr Stark blame himself for this. The blame was on Toomes and only on Toomes.

"Did you pilot the Vulture suit?" Peter asked firmly.

"What?"

"Did. You. Pilot. The. Vulture. Suit." Peter repeated, staring defiantly at Tony.

"No, of course not," Tony replied, slight confusion clinging to his features.

"And did you cause the building to fall?" he continued.

"No."

"Then it's not your fault," Peter told him simply.

"Kid, I shouldn't have taken the suit," Tony began, dropping his head into his hands. He opened his mouth to continue but Peter cut him off before he could say anything equally self-deprecating.

"Maybe," Peter allowed, "but then I wouldn't found out I was strong enough to get back up again. 'If you're nothing without the suit then you shouldn't have it'. You told me that. I thought the suit made Spider-man and I lost sight of what Spider-man really meant. God, I started out in a fricking onesie. That's what Spider-man represents. Not a hero with a multi-million dollar suit, but someone with nothing but their will to save others. Without you taking the suit, I never would've remembered everything Spider-man stood for.; With great power comes great responsibility. You gave me that tough love moment and I needed it. Now it's my turn to dish out some tough love for you." Peter took a deep breath. "You, Tony Stark, are being a fucking idiot. The blame of what happened in the past lies with Adrian Toomes, and Adrian Toomes alone. So stop this self-deprecating bullshit and use your fucking brain for once in your life. It. Was. Not. Your. Fault." Tony looked up at him, the self-hatred drained from his features, a slight smile adorning his lips which Peter returned.

"You're right, kid," Tony said, "when did you get this wise?"

"I've always been this wise, Mr Stark, I just wanted you to feel better about your lack of common sense," Peter joked, Tony chuckling.

"It wasn't my fault," Tony repeated. Peter tilted his head, confused at the strange undertone in Tony's voice only to see a fire lit in his caramel eyes. "I'm going to kill that son of a bitch."

And it was then that he knew he fucked up.

~~~

Step 4. Try some breathing exercises.

Peter had always been shit at breathing exercise. He just didn't have the patience for them. While he was breathing, someone could be getting raped in an alley, a shop could be getting robbed, or a kid could be getting beat up. So - despite the constant reminders to just try the damn breathing exercises for the love of god - Peter had never done anything of the sort. How could he? With his enhanced senses, it was impossible to relax. Would you be able to sit there and breathe while screams rang in your ears and sobbing pounded in your mind? Naturally, this meant that Peter wasn't the most experienced when it came to said breathing exercises. Maybe he should've practised. Life always had a funny way of throwing Peter in the deep end headfirst and tied to a ten ton weight and expecting him to swim. However, he had once read in a self-help book that breathing exercises were good for calming people down, so he decided to hit fuck it for the sixth time in the last 48 hours and try it out. I mean, it was that or release an angry billionaire in a metal suit decked out with the most advanced weapons in the world (except for maybe what HYDRA had because honestly Peter knew better than to underestimate them and he mildly respected their cockroach-like survival skills) who was hell-bent on revenge and gave zero fucks into the world. The second option was beginning to sound quite tempting, Peter would be honest.

"Mr Stark, you need to calm down," Peter told the man gently, placing a hand on Tony's shoulder. Tony tilted his head up to look at Peter - rage splashed across his face, tension lining his body - before he shrugged off Peter's hand and jerked into a standing position. And the room was suffocating, suffocating, suffocating, because damn had Tony always been that scary. A cloud of darkness surrounded Tony, filling the lab up and winding itself slowly around Peter's neck, stealing the breath from his lungs. Tony stormed through the lab, footsteps like thunder, anger crackling like lightning. Desperately, Peter followed the billionaire. "Mr Stark, Mr Stark, please calm down," Peter pleaded with him.

"No," Tony spoke, voice cold and flat, tone totally devoid of emotion, so totally opposite to the fury painting his entire body like a second skin. "No I will not calm down, Peter. He dropped a fucking building on you. He deserves to die."

"But you don't deserve to live with the guilt of killing him," Peter begged, tugging at Tony's sleeve in a desperate attempt to stop the man from his warpath. Peter knew he could easily overpower Tony. But he was hoping it wouldn't come to that. "Trust me, I know how it feels to want revenge, I really do, but you have to let it go. Please, Mr Stark."

"Dammit Peter, he hurt you!" Tony shouted, whirling around to face Peter, features twisted and manically furious. "He hurt you a-and I wasn't there and you had to deal with being crushed by a fucking building and then you got up and kept fighting because of that sick son of a bitch so I swear to fucking god I will murder him." Tony's eyes held a frenzied wildness in them, chest heaving up and down, Peter could hear his heart racing.

"Mr Stark, try some breathing," Peter said out of desperation, completely and utterly out of ideas. "Just breath. In and out, in and out." Tony's momentary surprise shocked him out of his anger, confusion flickering across his face momentarily before the anger was back, stronger than ever. Tony pivoted on his heel and walked away from Peter, heading towards where he kept his suits and leaving a heavy sense of dread pooling in Peter's stomach and twisting his insides in knots. So breathing hadn't worked. Thanks for nothing self-help books.

~~~

Step 5. Hack the most advanced AI in the world.

When in doubt, do something potentially illegal. A mugger had once told Peter that after Peter caught her trying to rob a young man. That lady had been fucking badass. It was honestly a shame she's gone to prison but a criminal is a criminal. Turns out the lady had been responsible for a string of high-end bank and jewellery robberies. Peter wondered how she was doing. Probably not well, considering how shit the American jail system is. Peter always tried to find alternative ways to stop criminals, only really sending in the pedophiles, rapists, murderers and the more professional robbers. Sometimes people had no choice in the shitty hand life had dealt them and goddamn if Peter didn't get that. People were just pushed and pushed until they were left with nothing but desperation. Maybe if the government or any of the fucking American systems were better or did their jobs properly then people wouldn't have to steal just to keep themselves and their families from starvation. Maybe Toomes wouldn't have started his alien tech business and then none of this would have even happened. Peter wouldn't be in this situation right now. And Peter was now out of options. He had an angry billionaire on his hands and absolutely no idea what to do. So, he took the lady's advice and decided to do something potentially illegal. He hacked the most advance AI in the world. (What, like it's hard?)

"Hey FRI?" Peter called with a wince.

"Yes, Peter," the AI replied.

"I'm really sorry," Peter told her before bringing up FRIDAY's code. (A/N - I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT COMPUTERS SO THIS IS GONNA BE SOME VAGUE, QUESTIONABLE AF HACKING) Fingers flying across the keys of the laptop, Peter bit his lip in concentration, brows furrowed. He had to hurry and shut down Mr Stark's suits before he reached them and left to murder Toomes. Adrenaline coursed through his body, brain whirring to life like the computer before him as he deleted lines of code, rewriting and altering the code that created FRIDAY as he tore down the firewalls Mr Stark had built. Peter vaguely registered that this was probably illegal and that Mr Stark would most definitely be mad about this later but he quickly waved the thoughts away. He didn't have time for them, he didn't have time, he didn't have time. Barely registering what he was doing, Peter submerged himself into the world of numbers, immersing himself completely in the ocean of lines of code, fingers instinctively knowing what t do as though he'd been born to hack. Again, probably not a great thing that this was so easy. But computers had always made sense to Peter. After what felt like hours but was really only a few minutes, Peter was into FRIDAY's system. And with a few taps, Peter shut down the suits. Quickly exiting the browser, Peter dropped his head into his hands. He'd done it. With a long exhale, Peter relaxed, leaning back into his chair and running his shaking hands through his hair. An enraged roar broke the peaceful quiet surrounding Peter and he squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe if he ignored it, Mr Stark's anger would go away. He couldn't deal with this shit. Peter was too young to die.

"Peter Benjamin Parker I swear to fucking god-"

"You probably shouldn't fuck god, Mr Stark," Peter couldn't resist remarking with a shit-eating grin. "People might get a bit mad. And who knows, you may even end up pregnant which I can't imagine will be very fun."

"What the fuck?" Tony whispered into the silence that followed Peter's statement. "I don't even want to know what goes on in your brain." Peter hummed in agreement. To be honest, he had no idea what was going on up there half the time. He was just along for the ride. And hey, if it distracted Mr Stark from his anger then it was a win win situation right? (How Peter won in this scenario he didn't know but he didn't question it).

"It's the trauma," Peter replied flippantly, as casual as one would be if they were discussing the weather.

"The-" Tony broke off into angry, confused gibberish that Peter didn't even try to decipher. Crisis averted. Now to deal with the aftermath.

~~~

Step 6. Watch a movie.

Peter Parker wasn't good with emotions. Being a socially awkward sixteen-year-old genius had that effect on a person. Not to mention the fact that he had a crime-fighting, sarcastic alter ego. Yeah, he wasn't great with feelings. Especially not his own. And now he was attempting to help Mr Stark clam down after the whole Toomes-dropping-a-building-on-him-reveal thing. And the only way an emotionally stunted teenage genius superhero knew how to help an emotionally stunted adult genius superhero was something most people would not class as a healthy coping mechanism. Distraction. Preferably with a movie.

"Hey Mr Stark, wanna watch Empire Strikes Back?" Peter asked. Tony fell into a confused silence which Peter took as an agreement. "Yes? Perfect, let's go." Grabbing Tony's arm, Peter tugged him out of the lab and into the elevator, confusion splashed across Tony's features as they entered the movie room. Peter dropped onto the expensive yet incredibly comfortable couch in the centre of the room, pulling Tony down beside him. "Hey FRI? Can you please play The Empire Strikes Back."

"Certainly, Peter," FRIDAY replied, a hint of warmth in her robotic voice. The Star Wars theme filled the room, Peter lips kicking up into a smile at the familiar sound. And as the movie played, Peter reciting every single line with the characters, he felt the rage and tension slowly drain out of his mentor as he relaxed.

"Hey, kid," Tony whispered, interrupting Luke and Darth Vader's showdown. "I sorry for getting angry. I just... I just didn't know what to do. Instead of asking if you were okay I blamed myself and wanted to frigging murder a guy who's already suffering in prison."

"It's okay, Mr Stark," Peter responded with a smile, sincerity gracing his tone. "I get it. After Ben died, I found his murderer. I almost killed the guy," Peter chuckled without humour, Tony watching him with sad eyes, the movie forgotten. "Point is, I know how it feels to want revenge. Don't apologise for being human."

"You really are the best of us all, kid," Tony remarked, a smile adoring his face, features relaxed as he looked at Peter.

"I learned from the best," Peter replied with a shrug.

"Thanks, kid," Tony said, throat tight with emotion.

"I meant May," Peter joked lightly, the heavy emotion clouding the room vanishing as Tony laughed.

"Are you okay, kid?" Tony asked, seriousness settling over them again.

"Honestly?" Peter responded, "no. But that's alright. Because I will be." Peter held Tony's gaze, warmth blossoming in his chest at his mentor's caring eyes, as Darth Vader's voice filled the room.

"No, I am your father," Darth Vader spoke. Peter turned back to the movie, watching as Luke jumped and fell.

"You're gonna be okay, kid," Tony whispered, "we're both gonna be okay."

Because Peter would be okay. So Tony was okay too.

And if Pepper walked in three hours later to find them curled up against each other, fast asleep she never said anything. (She got FRIDAY to take a photo and saved it to Irondad and Spiderson - an unsurprisingly large file. She should probably get Peter to do a DNA test. They did look rather similar)

[hufflepuffhollander]

off limits: tom holland one-shot

a/n | this is my submission for @chloecreatesfictions’ 1k writing challenge! i’ve never done the “brother’s best friend” trope and i def got a little too excited and carried away! real talk, this might be the cutest thing i’ve ever written

summary | as harrison osterfield’s younger sister, you’d always just seen his best friend tom as an annoying older brother. until, one day, you didn’t.

cw | tom x osterfield!reader. contains language, alcohol, recreational use of weeeed, teenage angst, sexual tension, fluff n’ stuff. 5k words.

For as long as you could remember, Tom Holland had been a stitch in your side that you could never get rid of.

Growing up as your older brother’s best friend, he was always at your house when you were children— and his favorite pastime when Harrison was boring him was to break into your room and mess with you, stealing your toys or running his hands across the piano keys when you were trying to practice in peace. No matter how many locks you put on your door just to keep Tom out, he was always able to pick them.

As you all got older, he grew to annoy you in a different way, blasting loud, grungy music through Harrison’s bedroom walls late at night or eating things out of the fridge that clearly had your name on them. Once he’d started to garner some attention as an actor, his ego skyrocketed, and somehow he became an even bigger nuisance. He dragged Harrison away from you and took him all over the world while you had to sit idly by and love your brother from a distance.

When Tom would come over now, he would talk of nothing but hollywood parties and getting drunk with the biggest a-listers when he knew you were listening. He would ignore you when he breezed past you in the hallway, and even had the audacity to go into your bedroom when you were out and smoke a blunt on your bed so your whole room smelled like a music festival when you got home; and worst of all, it was your weed.

It was sufficient to say you were Tom Holland’s least enthusiastic fan. And it was rather unfortunate, because you were a big stan of the MCU—and secretly loved getting high and watching and re-watching the spider-man movies the most. Okay, don’t make that face. They have a good storyline.

It was a regular Friday night, you were aimlessly scrolling through your phone while Harrison and Tom were getting ready to go pub hopping. Harrison always invited you, but you never took him up on his offer because you knew how flirty you got with alcohol in your system and wouldn’t dare feel that way around Tom. He was notorious for taking anything nice you said about him and rubbing it in your face for at least a week after. 

“You know you secretly love me, babe.”

You hated when he called you babe, and he knew it. But since you’d both grown up, time had done you both a favor, and there was always an air of something you couldn’t quite place your finger on whenever you interacted...the pet name just made it more interesting.

“Hey, y/n, are you sure you don’t want to come out with us?” Harrison yelled from outside your bedroom door, and you peeked your head out to respond.

“Nah, it’s fine, Haz, go have fun. I have enough uni work to keep me busy.”

“It’s a Friday night, nerd.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and smiled. “Sorry I’m not a budding alcoholic like you, big bro.”

He laughed, blew you a kiss, and he and Tom were off.

Only about an hour later, you decided to take a break from studying and light up a joint, turning on your go-to movie for background noise- but were snapped out of your vibey trance when you heard the front door swing open, and your brother’s loud, drunk voice.

“W-why are we h-home, you div,” he slurred, as his heavy footsteps start to climb the stairs. After a long moment, you heard him collapse on his bed through your thin walls, still stammering out his words. “Thomas, I promise you, I am fineeee...”

“Mate, you’re sloshed. Go to bed.”

You decided to leave them be. This was a typical occurrence- one of the boys went too hard too early, and the other had to babysit until they made it home to pass out cold, usually on the bed, or the couch, or on a good day, the floor.

A few minutes passed while you hotboxed your room, feeling amazingly relaxed, until you saw your doorknob wriggling out of the corner of your eye. Your door was locked, so you ignored it. But the knob kept twisting and falling back in place, making the whole frame shake. After a long while of witnessing a ghost try to make its way into your room, you watched your lock turn slowly and click out of place, the door creaking opened to reveal Tom, swatting at the air when a cloud of smoke greeted him.

You snapped your laptop closed before he could hear his own voice flowing out of your speakers. “Tom, for the last time, stop picking my fucking lock!” You beamed your nearest pillow at him—which he caught before it struck him—and he threw it back, hitting you square in the face. Of course.

He flashed a cocky smile. “Why? It’s so easy.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m serious! I could’ve been naked or something!”

He just stood in the doorframe, giving you a once-over in your thin cotton t-shirt and yoga pants, and kept that smug expression locked on his face. 

“Ew, Tom, you’re disgusting. Get out.”

He decidedly did not get out, instead closing the door behind him and hopping up next to you on your bed, the divot in your mattress leaving your bodies pressed much too close together. You were met with a strong whiff of his cologne and the gin he must’ve been drinking earlier. “I’ll take that,” he muttered as he lifted your joint out of your fingers and took a puff, sucking his breath in as his lungs filled. 

Your stomach filled with a dull fire and you narrowed your eyes. “Do you mind?”

He turned to face you and blew a big puff of smoke directly into your face, the notorious smirk making its reappearance. “Not at all, thanks for asking though.”

You groaned aloud. “What are you doing in here?” he took another draw and handed you back what was rightfully yours, smoke dissipating from his mouth as he spoke.

“Haz is pissed and I’m bored.”

You relit the bud and inhaled for a long while, figuring you’d need to be pretty intoxicated to not smack him in the face if he tried to talk again. “Well, go be bored somewhere else. I was busy.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you and reached across your lap for your computer. “Doing what?” 

Oh shit. “Dude, can you not-?!” you yelped, but he had swiped it too quickly out of your grasp, and opened it up to find himself paused on your screen. You laid back on your bed so he couldn’t see your cheeks now flushed with embarrassment and grabbed your lighter from your nightstand. It was going to be a long evening.

He leaned himself over to catch your eye and had the stupidest, most prideful look plastered across his face. “Gotcha.”

You punched him in the arm as he erupted into laughter—but the anger inside you had been dulled by the weed and replaced with a childlike silliness—and you started to giggle, too. You looked up into his eyes, pupils now wildly dilated and tinted red around the edges.

“Shut up, Tom, you’re high,” you said in between chuckles.

“Yeah? Well so are you!”

You poked fun at each other for a while, suddenly in a mutually fantastic mood. You knew in the back of your mind that none of this would be happening if you hadn’t gotten stoned together, but you enjoyed the warm company anyway. 

“Well, you gotta finish it, don’t you?” he said, settling back down and fixating the computer on his lap so you could both see it.

“You really want to watch your own movie?”

“Doll, it’s my favorite thing to do.” he smiled at you.

“God, you’re the worst.” you felt some butterflies make an entrance in your chest that had never been there before.

He pressed play and cozied up on your bed, lying back against the wall with his arm lazily draped behind you. You pulled a blanket up onto your lap and had really no choice but to lean on him for support, neither of you admitting out loud that you were full on cuddling and not angry about it.

“Hey, aren’t you gonna share?” he whined, pulling at the corner of your blanket.

“Get your own,” you responded, internally high-fiving yourself for finally getting the chance to sass him back. Sure, you had your head comfortably resting on his shoulder, but that didn’t mean you were suddenly friends.

You let the movie play, the two of you blowing through the joint until it was a dwindling nub. The scene where Peter has his big kiss with MJ started, and you stifled a snigger as their lips met on the screen.

Tom had clear offense laced through his words. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged.

He sat up to look at you, eyebrows knit together in an angry pout. “Tell me.”

“I just...feel bad for Zendaya, that’s all.” you covered your mouth to keep from laughing, and his eyes rolled so far back into his head you were sure they’d be stuck that way forever.

“You’re such a brat,” he started, his ego finding its old place back in his voice. “I’m an amazing kisser. She told me herself.”

You looked away from him, taking a heavy exhale. “Yeah, whatever, dude.”

He sat even more upright and paused the movie, taking hold of your shoulder to make you turn to him. “What, you don’t believe me?”

You realized then how physically close you had gotten, as you could feel the syllables of his words in his breath hitting your face. He was doing that thing boys do, when they’re thinking about kissing you but don’t- their stares going back and forth between your lips and your eyes in a not so subtle way. It freaked you out to see him that close and personal, and you whispered back exactly what you knew would irk him the most.

“Nope.”

He moved his face impossibly closer to yours, and you felt his soft lips lightly brush over your own. You weren’t sure if this was real, or just a high hallucination, but you didn’t move away. This was entirely uncharted territory.

“Tooommmm!” you heard Harrison yell out from the other side of the wall. “Where are yooouuu?! I’m so thirsty!” Tom immediately jerked his head away from you and shook himself out of the moment. You brought your hand up to your cheek and shuddered at how hot it had become- your own body was betraying you.

“God, he’s gonna be the death of me,” Tom said, shoving himself off the bed and walking out of your room, glancing back at you for a moment and then closing the door behind him. Just like that, he was gone, and you were left trapped in your own psyche wondering what the hell had just happened.

Over the course of the next week, things has become exponentially weirder between you and Tom. He seemed to be spending much more time at your house than he normally did, even sleeping a few nights there instead of driving the five minutes back to be in his own bed. One unsuspecting morning, you knocked on your bathroom door, annoyed that it had been shut for such a long time. 

“Haz, if you use up all the hot water again, I’m gonna kill you,” you said in between knocks. You were taken by surprise when it swung open, steam billowing out into the cool air.

“Whoops,” you heard a voice say, immediately realizing it wasn’t your brother. You took a step backward to see Tom emerge, wearing nothing but a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp and clinging to his forehead, and he looked like some glowing magazine model. 

“Uh, sorry,” you stammered, accidentally inhaling the yummy smell of his soap and shampoo emanating off of his skin.

He noticed you eyeing him and a sly grin appeared as he rolled his bottom lip under his teeth. “Shower’s all yours, babe,” he said, bumping your shoulder with his own as he walked away. You were stuck in place and didn’t see him glancing back at you as he wandered down the hallway. 

Another day after that, Tom and Harrison were looking for a certain record to play, but it was nowhere to be found. “It might be in y/n’s room,” Harrison said, sitting back in his lounge chair. “Wanna go grab it?”

Tom coughed. “Why do I have to get it?”

“Because I’m comfortable.”

Tom felt a mix of annoyance and nerves in his chest as he walked the short distance down the hallway to your room where the door was already cracked open. He invited himself in—excitement faltering a little when he saw you weren’t in your usual spot on your bed—and started to sift through your bookshelves.

You had been in the bathroom getting dressed after your shower, but realized you left your shirt in your closet- and seeing that Harrison’s bedroom door was still shut, you figured it was safe to run across the landing into your room without anyone seeing you. In just a bra and spandex shorts that left little to the imagination, you swiftly made your way across the hall and walked through your door that was still open a crack to see Tom kneeled down as he shuffled through your record collection.

He heard your small gasp when you entered to find him, and swiveled around to you standing only a few feet away from him in the least amount of clothing he’d ever seen on you. He abruptly stood up but didn’t move, eyes sparkling as they rolled down your body.

“What the fuck! Why are you always in my room?!” You were too shocked to think about finding something to cover yourself with, and put your hands over your face, trying not to die of embarrassment. Tom remained glued to his place on your carpet, clearly at a loss for words.

“Tom, can you leave please-”

“Right, yeah, okay, uh, bye-” he hurried out of your room, swinging the door almost shut but leaving just a crack so he could speak into it.

“...I like your shorts.”

“TOM!”

He chuckled and closed the door, and you slumped against the wall, still holding your head in your hands. What was this sudden hold he had over you? And why did you love the way that he was staring at you?

That night, you had a big paper to complete, and you were perched in your bed typing away as it got dark. In between two songs on your playlist, you heard the familiar jiggle of a doorknob. Looking up over your screen, you watched as the metal turned in its socket, and heard a soft “crushed it” as the lock undid itself. Your door opened steadily and slowly, a familiar face peeking in at you.

“Hi.”

“Oh sweet jesus,” you mumbled.

“You busy?”

“Clearly.”

“Cool.” Tom let himself into your room, shutting the door behind him and sauntering over to your bed, sitting down next to you, bouncing like a little kid and singing his words. “Whatcha doooin’?”

“Homework,” you said, continuing to type and trying your best to ignore the way the sound of his voice was waking up something electric inside of you. He leaned into your body to peer at your computer screen, pretending to be interested in whatever you were writing about. His elbow got in the way of your hands, and you had to stop typing.

“Thomas, is there something I can help you with?”

“Haz is asleep,” he said, resting his head on your shoulder like it hadn’t been a week since your almost-kiss and you hadn’t been actively avoiding bringing it up.

You felt jittery. “And?”

He gently pushed your hands away from the keyboard and closed your laptop shut, giving you a sheepish smile. “Wanna get high?”

Honestly, you did.

You turned on your lamp and turned off the overhead light, put on that record he finally found, lighting a candle and then another hand-rolled blunt. This time, Tom sat upright with you perpendicular to him, your legs swung over his lap. When he made a joke, he’d give your leg a little squeeze- and whether it was purposeful or not, you were filled with schoolgirl nerves every time it happened.

All the angsty barriers built up over years of a sibling-like rivalry had come down between the two of you as you smoked together; you suddenly found all of his bad jokes funny, and he couldn’t peel his eyes away from the cute way you scrunched your nose when you laughed. Every time you exchanged the blunt, you couldn’t help but think about how his lips had just been on it a moment before yours. The night came and went, and you ended up falling asleep wrapped in his arms as he dozed off with his chin pressed to your forehead.

You both woke up at the same time in the dead of night, unsure of how late it had gotten. Still nestled into each other, you exchanged sleepy glances and no words, taking a moment to realize the position you had put yourselves in. 

Tom grazed your jawline with the back of his hand and lifted up your chin with his thumb. You let your eyes flutter shut and he kissed you in the dark for one long, everlasting moment. He pulled back from you hesitantly, leaving you breathless. Did that really just happen?

“We...we can’t,” he whispered, his words tinged with sadness.

Your heart broke for him just hearing his voice. “Why not?”

“You’re my best friend’s little sister, y/n.”

“And you’re my brother’s best friend. So what?” you were almost upset with yourself for being so vulnerable; so visibly pining after him.

“So, you’re off limits,” he said, resting his forehead against yours. 

“Says who?” 

That prompted Tom to meet your gaze again, and this time you took initiative, moving your face to his and taking his bottom lip in between yours. He took a sharp inhale as you kissed him and seemed to let all inhibition go as he put his arms around your back and pressed you into him hard, all of his pent up feelings for you suddenly flowing out of him. He kissed you in a needy, desperate kind of way, and you loved every second of it. You ran your fingers through his hair, traced his jawline, using your hands to feel every bit of him that you couldn’t before. The strangest part of it all was how natural it felt- like you had been practicing for this very moment all your lives. 

Your record had stopped spinning a while ago, the room now filled with just the breathy noises of your kisses, your contented hums and his tiny mews when you bit his lips. You were both still barely lucid, and after countless minutes of nothing but innocent kisses, you were on the brink of falling asleep again, serotonin whisking you away into dreams. Tom sighed into you, and clasped his hand around yours.

“I have to go.”

“What? Why?” you felt your heart preeminently sink in your chest; like you should’ve known this was too good to last.

“I don’t want him to wake up and find us here,” he trailed off, staring down at your intertwined fingers fiddling together.

“So that’s it?” you tried to swallow back the sudden upwell of feelings inside you.

“No, no...” his eyes filled with some type of emotional strain you’d never seen. “I- I don’t want this to be it. But I don’t want things to get...messy.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t blame him, because you understood.

“Can you come back tomorrow night?” you whispered, very not ready to let his spot next to you grow cold.

“I don’t know...”

You looked up at him doe-eyed, cooing. “Please?”

He nodded, looking away from you before he completely caved and stayed there forever. “I’ll come back.”

He pressed one last kiss onto your lips and slowly got up, reluctantly letting go of your hand as he left your room. “Goodnight, babe.”

Hearing him call you babe, finally free of demeaning sarcasm, made your heart soar. 

“Goodnight, Tom.”

The door shut and you were left alone, the stillness of your room sticking out in sharp contrast with how quickly your heart was racing.

For the next few nights, Tom spent the evenings at your house with Harrison, waiting until he fell asleep to make his way next door to you. You’d smoke together, watch his movies—and in heated moments got a little handsy—but you never went past kissing, though you both desperately wanted to. It was too risky having your brother right next door; and you knew all too well how paper thin your walls were. But in those secretive hours after solar midnight, just being able to exist next to Tom and letting him hold you, you were the happiest you could ever remember being. The second night he left your room to let you sleep, he placed a light kiss on your forehead after he stood up that made the whole thing feel a little too...real.

The next day, you walked into the kitchen and found Harrison at the fridge. You were in a great mood for obvious reasons but couldn’t let it show. “Hey, got any fun plans today?”

He turned around after shoving a handful of grapes in his mouth. “Nope, got some admin stuff to do and gonna turn in early.”

“Oh, Tom isn’t coming over?”

“No, I told him to take a night off. He’s been smothering me, y’know?” he laughed and ate a few more grapes, but then turned to you, confused. “Since when do you care if he’s coming over?”

You swallowed, unsure of what to say. “Just want to know if I need to stay out of the way,” you faked a laugh and blinked hard, hoping he wasn’t paying too much attention to your facial expressions.

“Uh, alright then. You two are always so fuckin’ weird around each other.” He seemed to feel that was a good way to end your exchange and walked out of the kitchen, throwing a grape at you.

You rolled your eyes at your brother, but then felt the sadness bubble up upon registering that you weren’t going to see Tom tonight. But really, how long did you think you could keep this up? The feelings you were developing for him scared you, you didn’t know what to make of them; all you knew was that your days suddenly seemed much grayer without him.

Nighttime came around, and you couldn’t sleep, so you did the unthinkable and sent Tom a text. Your thumb shook as you hit send, knowing that there was now tangible evidence of the connection you’d developed, that it wasn’t just some invention of your mind.

hey, are you awake?

T: yeah, can’t sleep. you?

obviously, i just texted you.

T: shut it.

A minute passed...

T: got room for one more over there?

You smiled like an idiot at your phone.

maybe.

Less than 10 minutes later, you heard the familiar wriggle of your doorknob. You don’t know why you even bothered locking it anymore.

“Hey you,” he whispered, carefully shutting the door behind him.

“Tom, you know you could’ve just knocked and I would’ve let you in- you don’t have to keep picking the lock.”

“Old habits die hard.”

You chuckled and stood up to greet him at your door as he unexpectedly wrapped you in an amazingly tight hug. He rested his chin on top of your head and started to sway your bodies back and forth. You laid your head on his chest and said hello to his heartbeat.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it was almost hard to fall asleep without you,” he murmured, placing another one of those domestic kisses on your scalp.

“Well, now you don’t have to.” you smiled. He waddled you backwards to your bed and you sat down as your legs hit the bedframe, prompting Tom to fall onto you as you giggled into his body that was now covering your face.

“Okay, goodniiight,” he said, refusing to move. You poked at his sides making him jump, and he grabbed your waist and rolled you on top of him. You instinctively leaned down so your lips could clash together in the way you were so used to, trying hard to not confess that you’d completely fallen in love with him when you finally had the breath to speak. He pushed your hair to cascade to one side of his face, and nuzzled your nose with his own, closing his eyes and humming with a smile. “Mmm.”

“Hmm?”

“Just happy.”

You rested your sleepy head on his warm chest, and fell into a deep sleep, letting the steady drumming in his chest be a metronome to breathe to.

~

“Oh, shit. Shit shit shit.”

You woke up abruptly, the bright light of day blinding you as you tried to open your eyes to the string of expletives you’d just heard come from a familiar voice. Once you’d opened them, though, you wish you had kept them shut so you hadn’t seen who had spoken.

“Harrison?!”

He was standing in your room, peering at you with hands half covering his eyes when you realized that there was a sleeping Tom underneath you.

Your brother paced in a circle and exhaled loudly. “Tell me I’m not seeing what I’m seeing.”

You nudged Tom awake with your elbow and immediately rolled off of him, trying to hide the very obvious fact that you had slept together all night. You never let him stay the full night for this exact reason, but he had been so ridiculously happy holding you in his arms that he forgot to set an alarm to wake him at the crack of dawn and leave. You sat up straight in your bed, twisting your hair in your hands, bracing yourself for the inevitable tirade.

Tom picked his head up to see Harrison standing there with his arms crossed, and flopped his head back on the pillow. “Fuck. Hey, mate.” He tried to play it off like this was the most normal thing that could happen on a Thursday morning.

“Is this why you’re always such bumbling fools around one another? You’ve been, what, fucking each other when I’m not around?” Harrison looked like he wanted to throw up at the thought.

“Haz, no, it’s not like that,” you said, but he didn’t seem convinced. “It’s just been smoking together and cuddling, really, that’s it,” you were torn between wanting to console your brother and admitting to both him and Tom that this was more to you than that. But Tom already knew that, because it was for him, too.

Tom looked like a deer in headlights. “I’m so sorry, dude-”

Harrison walked out of the room, and the two of you were left sitting in your bed, worry filling your eyes. Only a moment later, your brother reappeared in the doorway.

“Look, you idiots, I don’t care that you’re snuggling off the clock—you’re my two favorite people in the world, and to see you together, honestly, it’s about damn time,” he started, making both your and Tom’s jaws fall slightly agape. You exchanged a knowing look. Wait, is he not mad? Wait, about damn time??

“But I wish you would’ve told me so we could all hang out together. I don’t appreciate the sneaking around.” 

You cocked your head at him, sending him a loving gaze for always just wanting what’s best for you. 

“I’m just mad you aren’t including me in your hotbox sessions, really.” He laughed and ran his hands through his hair, pulling his face back to make a wild expression.

All three of you started to chuckle out of sheer awkwardness and relief.

“Come here.” Harrison held his hands out and you both gave a mutual aww as you ran into your brother’s arms, squeezing him tight.

“I love you, big bro.”

“I know. Now I’m gonna get out of here before you start kissing in front of me, or worse,” he moaned, swiftly exiting your room. “This is gonna be the grossest thing I’ve ever seen...” you heard him say to himself as he left.

You turned to Tom, still shocked at how well that had gone considering what he was assuming would happen. You swallowed the butterflies that you’d welcomed as friends and stepped back to him still sitting on the bed, putting your arms around his neck.

“And you,” you started, swinging your legs over his lap to straddle him. “I have to confess something.”

Tom placed his hands back on your hips where they rightfully belonged and smiled at you. “I’m listening.”

“I don’t mind you calling me babe anymore.” you grinned at his face drop, obviously assuming that you were going to say something else.

“Oh, and why’s that?” he prodded.

You looked up and off to the side as you squeezed his shoulders. “Maybe because I’m just a tad bit in love with you,” you trailed off, stiff as a board at what he could possibly say next.

“Well, babe,” he put emphasis on the pet name, “That’s a relief, because I was worried I might be the only one falling here.”

You grabbed his face and kissed him, kneading his soft cheeks under your thumbs, whispering exactly what you knew would get him the most.

“Nope.”

[flourgirl]

When The Party’s Over

Part II to “Even If It’s a Lie”

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader, Peter Parker x Gwen Stacy, Harry Osborn x Reader

Summary: The closer that Peter gets to Gwen, the more he realizes how irreplaceable you are to him.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: A few curse words here and there.

A/N: There’s going to be a third and final part to this story, so if you’d like to be tagged in it, please shoot me an ask or a reply and I’ll gladly add you to the tag list. Hope you guys enjoy this new part and happy reading :-)

“Counted all my mistakes and there's only one Standing out from the list of the things I've done All the rest of my crimes don't come close To the look on your face when I let you go” -Where Do Broken Hearts Go, One Direction

It had been 17 days since you had last seen Peter and all you could do was sit in your favorite coffee shop and stare at all the muffins in the case. Peter loved muffins. His favorite flavor was banana nut, and usually the two of you would jam out to all of your favorite songs while you waited for them to come out of the oven.

“Y/N,” Betty said, snapping you out of your daze, “Are you alright? You’ve been staring at the pastries for, like, five minutes.”

MJ put down whatever book she had decided to read this week. “Yeah, if you want one, go for it. You deserve it. Here, I’ll pay.” 

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a wadded up $10 bill, dropping it onto the table in front of you, and returned to her book.

“You could get a slice of cheesecake,” Betty suggested. “I know how much you like the raspberry one from here.”

But all you could think about was how you wished Peter loved you the way that he loved those stupid banana nut muffins.

“I’m not hungry,” you muttered, crossing your arms and closing your eyes to take in the soft jazz music that was playing alongside the chatter of the café. “But I’m keeping the ten bucks.”

“Maybe it would help take your mind off of things if you met someone new,” MJ suggested without even looking up at you. It was honestly amazing how she could carry on a conversation while still being so engrossed in her book.

“Yeah, Y/N,” Betty agreed, “You’re so smart, and pretty, and you made all of the baked goods currently taking up lots of precious space in our kitchen.”

“You’re a stress baker,” MJ added. She was right. Over the past two and a half weeks since that night, you had baked three cakes, four pies, and seven different kinds of bread. Maybe tonight wasn’t the night you tried out the new focaccia recipe you had been eyeing.

“I don’t know, guys,” you said, slinking further down into your chair. “I just don’t think I’m ready for that sort of thing.”

“That’s okay,” Betty reassured you. “Take all the time you need. But we’re here for you, Y/N.”

And that’s how the rest of that day went. Lots of suggestions on ways to stop thinking about Peter and you shooting them down. No matter how Betty and MJ tried to make you feel better, your mind was stuck on the nine voicemails and thirty-two texts he had sent you saying how he was sorry for whatever he did and how he just wanted things to be normal again.

Except you didn’t want normal. You wanted him. You wanted his bad puns and the way his sweaters smelled when he let you borrow one. And the worst part was, he didn’t even know what he did wrong. He didn’t know that he had broken your heart.

----------------

It wasn’t like Peter didn’t like Gwen. She was outgoing and confident, and he liked how it felt like she was always the center of attention. People wanted to talk to her, or sit next to her, or even have her know that they existed.

But she wasn’t anything like you, and the more time that Peter spent with her, the more apparent that became. She didn’t rant about reality TV or get so overwhelmed during public speaking assignments that the only way she could calm down was with a hug from him. In many ways, she was perfect. Except for the fact that she wasn’t you.

“We’re still on for Flash’s party on Saturday, right?” Gwen asked as she walked with Peter out of the lecture hall where they learned about vascular mechanics.

Honestly, Peter hadn’t even remembered that she had asked him to go to that until she brought it up just now. He was too stressed out wondering whether or not you’d ever speak to him again. 

But what did he do to make you upset? He had promised that if you wanted to leave the party, you could tell him and the two of you would go. Except you never said anything. You just got up and left, without even saying goodbye. You hated him and it killed him to not know why.

Despite this, he wanted to be the good guy and not disappoint any more people, and so he took Gwen’s hand in his and said, “Yeah, definitely. I’ll be there.”

----------------

If someone had told you that you’d run into Harry Osborn in the middle of Arthur Avenue, you’d say they were crazy. And if that same someone said that you’d ask him on a date, they’d be even crazier. But somehow, some way, that’s exactly what happened.

You were on the way to interview a third-generation restaurant owner for your Italian class. You had never been very good at foreign languages, but you would use any excuse to take a trip to Little Italy. The nervous knots in your stomach from the possibility that they would only speak in a dialect that you couldn’t understand was worth it, because this little nook of the city was home to the best arancini in all of America.

To be honest, it seemed unbelievable that he’d be there, at that exact time, in that exact place to where you’d run right into him. You had been too busy reviewing the notes you had taken during the interview to see that you were on a direct path towards face planting into his torso.

“Fuck,” you grumbled, staring down at your notes scattered on the sidewalk at your feet. The guy you had just ran into kneeled down to gather them into a neat stack, handing them back to you.

“Y/N?” he asked, which caught you off guard. Who the hell was this? It wasn’t until you stared at his face for a few seconds that you recognized him. That guy that Gwen was with at the party. He looked a lot different in his button down and khakis compared to the sweatshirt and baseball cap he had on when you had first met him.

“Uh, hi. You’re Gwen’s friend, right? Henry.” You knew his name. You just didn’t plan on letting that you knew it.

“Yeah, but it’s Harry. Sorry about that, by the way. So, anyway, what brings you all the way down to Little Italy? It’s pretty far from campus,” he told you, as if you didn’t know that. I mean, you had walked all the way here, hadn’t you?

You shrugged, looking away from him. “I guess I could ask you the same thing.”

It was the first time in a while that someone wasn’t fawning over him just because he was rich. Honestly, it was really refreshing. “I asked first,” he noted, mimicking your crossed arms with a smirk.

Who does this guy think he is? 

“Listen,” you sighed. “I really don’t have time for this. I need to get back to my apartment and finish up writing this essay that’s due at midnight.”

“So you’re taking Italian, I presume?” he asked, it suddenly becoming quite clear as to what you were doing on the other side of the city.

“Yeah. And let me guess, you were eating brunch at some fancy, expensive restaurant that your dad owns, drinking some $100 bottle of wine while some nerd you pay does your homework, huh?”

“No,” he laughed. “I was helping put together Thanksgiving dinner baskets for underprivileged families down at the soup kitchen.”

It was only then that you noticed how annoyingly handsome he was. Essentially, he was the male version of Gwen. Same blonde hair and preppy style that just screamed “I have a trust fund.”

“Of course. What, did you need a good photo op ever since the Daily Bugle ran that issue where they called you a spoiled playboy who loves to party?”

You had no intentions of entertaining him, especially since he was a friend of Gwen’s. The girl that had kissed Peter right in front of you, and pretended like she couldn’t remember your name. The girl that Peter was probably with right now.

“I’m not going to pretend like that wasn’t part of it, but believe it or not, I’m not actually as big of a selfish asshole as the papers make me out to be.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, I can tell by the cashmere sweater vest and leather loafers that you’re wearing that you’re so down to earth.”

There was an awkward silence, and Harry decided to change the subject before he pissed you off even more. But what he chose to mention next was the one thing on the planet that you didn’t want to talk about.

“So, uh, I guess your friend Peter is with Gwen now,” he started, which had somehow managed to make you dislike him even more than you already did. Sure, there was no way for him to know how you felt about the whole situation, but it still pained you to think about how you had become an afterthought to who you thought was the guy who would always have your back.

You blinked back at him, frowning. “Yeah, I guess so,” you muttered. And then there was another awkward silence.

“Well, I’ll let you go now. It’s obvious I’m taking up some very precious time in your day,” he said, offering a weak smile. “Maybe we’ll see each other around campus.” 

It suddenly dawned on you that you might have been just a little too hard on him. He seemed nice enough, even if you weren’t a big fan of the company he kept. Before you could even really think about it, you called out, “Wait!” and walked over to meet him when he had turned around.

“I’m sorry,” you admitted, nervously toying with the hem of your sweater. “I’m just in a really bad mood.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured you, although he wasn’t quite as confident as when the two of you had started your conversation. “We all have bad days. I hope yours gets better.”

“It could, if you’d let me buy you a coffee,” you said, genuinely smiling for the first time in a while. Sure, it was nice to think that Peter would probably be upset once he heard that you had asked someone out and he knew nothing about it, but a small part of you was asking just because Harry Osborn seemed like the kind of guy you’d like to have around.

“Sure,” he answered back, running a hand through his hair, which seemed to be in a perpetually perfect messy-but-not-too-messy state. “Have you ever been to Hungry Ghost in Brooklyn?”

Your eyes lit up. “That’s actually my favorite café! They have this really awesome grand piano in the middle of the room, and every Friday they have an open mic where anybody can sign up to play it.”

Your enthusiasm honestly surprised you. It was nice to have something to talk about that didn’t somehow involve Peter.

“Actually, I’m signed up to play tomorrow night,” Harry told you, “Do you like jazz?”

It almost seemed too good to be true. You loved jazz. “Definitely,” you confirmed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Alright, cool. Let’s make a deal. I’ll let you buy me a coffee if you come watch me play tomorrow night.”

“Deal,” you agreed, before turning back towards your apartment, all giddy with excitement to tell MJ and Betty about what had just happened.

----------------

“You probably didn’t know this, but Y/N’s been hanging out with Harry Osborn,” Ned said, walking into the common room wearing his “special” Hawaiian shirt, which Peter knew meant he was going someplace fancy. “They’re kind of dating.”

Peter looked up immediately from his linear algebra homework. He had an uneasy feeling in his stomach about what Ned had just revealed, but he didn’t know why. He was with Gwen, and if you wanted to date Harry Osborn, then you could. But still, he found himself being just a little bit jealous that some other guy was filling in for him.

“Oh,” Peter said, looking back down at his homework. He couldn’t focus anymore, so he just shut the notebook and threw it from where he was sitting on the top bunk onto his desk. “How long has that been going on?”

“Two days now, but they’ve been spending every minute together since. Betty said that they bumped into each other on the street and she just asked him on a date out of nowhere,” he replied, tying his shoes to go meet his girlfriend for date night. “I just thought I’d let you know, in case you saw them when you were out and got mad at me for keeping it from you.”

“Thanks, dude,” Peter sighed, lying on his back, “You’re a good friend.”

“I know. Anytime, man. Now I gotta go. M’lady awaits,” he said. Peter didn’t even have to look to know that his roommate had just tipped his imaginary fedora.

Harry Osborn wasn’t even your type, Peter thought. You didn’t like guys as “pretty” as him, and you had always been more into brown eyes, not blue. So what was the appeal? His trust fund? Peter knew that you weren’t that shallow. It was just that, well, he couldn’t imagine you falling for someone like that.

You’re with Gwen, Peter kept reminding himself. So many guys would kill to be in your place. It wasn’t until he checked the time that he realized that he was actually about 20 minutes late to meeting her for the party. The stupid party at Flash Thompson’s tacky apartment that he didn’t even want to go to in the first place.

It was an understatement to say that Gwen was pissed when Peter knocked on her front door over half an hour late to the time they had agreed upon.

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting,” she complained, smoothing out her sparkly silver dress that caught the light just right when she moved.

“I’m sorry,” Peter sighed, grabbing her hand as they walked down the street. “Uh, I guess I just lost track of time.”

“Whatever,” Gwen said, “Just don’t let it happen again.”

When they finally arrived at the party, the bowls of potato chips and mini pretzels were nearly empty. The floor was sticky, and Old Town Road boomed from the speakers in the living room. 

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Peter told Gwen, leaving her to greet all of her friends that had been waiting for her to show up. 

As Peter wandered towards the keg, he couldn’t stop thinking about you and Harry, and all the things that he didn’t know about your newfound relationship with some guy you had just met. He still didn’t know why he was so upset about it. He should be happy you had found someone you liked. In high school, all you ever talked about was finding the perfect guy, and if that was Harry Osborn, who was Peter to make a fuss about it?

But that didn’t stop Peter from filling up his plastic cup more times than he should’ve that night. It wasn’t until he was being dragged back to his dorm room by Gwen after puking on Flash’s couch that he realized what was wrong. He wanted to be that guy. The one who got to hold your hand and cuddle with you during scary movies. The one that got to love you and be loved by you.

----------------

Taglist: @hommyy-tommy @itsgonnabeohtay @alltimekyn

P.S.: Sorry to all the people I forgot to tag on this one! I didn’t know that when you answer asks privately, they go away from your inbox. Please shoot me another ask or reply to this post so I don’t miss you again!

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

It Takes Me All the Way

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “flower shop au” square. The following idea hit me in the head a couple of days ago & I couldn’t let it go until the whole thing was written. Here’s my bingo card  - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!! Word Count: 11.5K  Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case?

Summary:

'For the next half an hour, Peter learned about flower language and the subtle way to artfully layer flowers so the colors blended meaningfully together. Peter didn’t retain too much about the flowers themselves – they were beautiful and coordinated perfectly, but Tony out shone them all. He was obviously in his element; the simple way the information fell from his mouth spoke of years of study and tons of hands-on knowledge. Not only was the man smart, he had an eye for style and created little living masterpieces without much thought.

By the time Peter worked up the courage to make any sort of move, they were at the register, seconds away from a complete transaction. He was in too deep to let the spark between them go another time. Steeling himself for whatever might come, Peter took a deep breath and leapt. “Hey, before I go – would you like to go out with me sometime?"'

Or: the one where Tony's a florist and Peter kind of digs that.

Read on AO3 here.

---- 

After taking home the third, consecutive NCA Championship title, Peter craved a tame summer. Unlike the rest of his teammates, he had no dreams of furthering his cheerleading career by becoming a coach; while everyone else flocked to the NCA cheer champ coaching positions, Peter tried his hardest to create some distance between himself and the sport.

Of course, that was easier said than done when his very best friend was also a teammate. Since the day MJ pulled him off the gymnastics mat and thrust him not so gently into the world of cheer in seventh grade, Peter never looked back – not to gymnastics or the people he left behind. He didn’t naturally fit in with anyone, but with MJ by his side and an incredible amount of athleticism, high school passed by in a whirlwind of football games, competitions, and a rich education Peter clung to. Being smart was a way out of the conservative little town that would never accept the truth of who Peter truly was.

When Purdue became an option for the both of them, Peter immediately understood moving to Indiana was the next step in life’s adventure. It wasn’t the big city that he always imagined he’d escape to, but Peter couldn’t argue with a full ride academic scholarship and a spot earned on the cheer team. As a male with tumbling experience and a shocking amount of strength for his size, Peter didn’t have to wonder about his spot on the team – he’d been leading teams to competition wins for years. Stepping out of the narrow-minded world of Springfield, Missouri was the only thing that mattered; the ability to do what he wanted without worrying about where the money came from to do it – that was just a delightful bonus.

Despite the challenges of college athletics and a philosophy major, Peter managed to keep his close friendship with MJ. They’d been a stunting pair for ages and their similarities made it easy to not only be around each other but stay tight knit in their connection. Going through so many of the trials of growing up together, Peter didn’t know what life would be like without her. After coming out and receiving nothing but a hug and a shy “me too”, their bond was cemented – made permanent in a way that something shared tied one person to another.

Their undying friendship and ridiculous commitment to each other was how he found himself balls deep in wedding planning, instead of relaxing in the peace and quiet of his one-bedroom apartment, playing video games and reading all the books he didn’t get to crunch out during the busy school year. MJ didn’t even bother asking him to be her ‘man’ of honor – after popping the question to Darcy, she simply sent him a list of things to do and dove right in.

Between bachelorette parties, bridal showers, and the seemingly impossible hunt for the best bridesmaid’s dresses, Peter hadn’t spent more than a couple days of the break on his own. Though he loved the fuck out of MJ and her soon-to-be wife, he couldn’t wait for the wedding to come and go. A little peace and alone time was exactly what he needed.

Finally, after a week of long nights and last-minute errands, the big day was upon them. The beautiful ranch venue radiated with a rich sunshine, basking the place in a lucky sort of golden glow. Since he didn’t have to spend his entire morning trapped in a makeup chair, Peter got to enjoy the beautiful weather firsthand as he contributed to the set up and decorating. Aside from helping MJ get into the admittedly cool pant suit she planned to wear, Peter’s time was his own until an hour before the ceremony.

Grinning at the thought, Peter pulled out one of the reception hall chairs and sat down heavily. He relaxed into the comfortable wood, reaching up to run a hand through his formidable curls. They were sans gel at the moment; his fingers sailed through the silky strands with ease.

Peter wasn’t aware he closed his eyes until a loud clatter had them blinking open in surprise. Swiftly turning towards the noise, Peter stopped in his tracks at the sight in front of him.

A big gray vase was the source of the noise, there was no doubt about that the second Peter spotted it. What completely took his breath away, or maybe who, was the man holding said vase. Peter saw tanned arms that were toned to perfection right off the bat. It was obvious at first glance that the owner of those limbs worked outside with his hands frequently. The lithe muscles and glorious golden skin tone spoke more of manual work than physical exercise. With his eyes travelling up firm forearms and the swell of a built bicep, Peter noticed the man’s hair next. Tamed by a plain white dad hat, an abundance of unruly curls flipped under the edges of the brim and sides. Peter imagined a flowing head of dark brunette hair he could easily slip his fingers into the depths of.

As if the man knew Peter was staring, he turned towards Peter’s table, an intrigued look on his face. A face that, after taking in the rest of the stranger’s glorious beauty, didn’t seem fair. Well-kept facial hair outlined perfect lips pulled into a knowing smirk. Rich, honey-golden eyes were just visible under the brim of the man’s sweat-stained hat. They seemed to pierce Peter right in the chest, like their unblinking nature dug under his skin and saw everything he tried so desperately to hide. The feeling was unnerving yet so exhilarating all the same. Though he felt so very exposed, Peter wanted nothing more than to narrow the space and get to know the handsome stranger.

Luckily, his chance came a couple hours later.

To stop himself from shamelessly flirting, Peter hightailed it out of the reception hall the second he could, using a check up on MJ as a guise for his obvious escape. Most of his friends were exactly where he left them at the start of the morning – it was a marvel that anything got done when they all got together. After braving the makeup talk and putting out a few emotional fires, Peter’s reprieve came in the form of a man of honor errand.

With MJ’s credit card in hand, Peter made his way to the front of the building where the florist was waiting. He’d been so glad to get out of the bridal suite that he didn’t stop to think about the stranger and the beautiful floral arrangement that’d been in his hand or to make the connection between the two. For the second time that day, Peter tripped over himself when the man came into view. Now that an actual need to speak to him was in sight, Peter didn’t know if he could make his mouth work to take the chance.

Recognition was clear on the florist’s face – though they didn’t know one another, it was hard to forget the very long, very obvious stare Peter was caught in. Those utterly kissable lips were upturned, the pinch around the man’s eyes from the grin making him all the more attractive. Rolling his eyes at the thought (like he needed to be any more attractive), Peter tried to school his features and return the smile with one of his own.

“Hi! I’m Peter, MJ’s man of honor. She sent me to square up the bill for the flowers,” Peter said in greeting. As the space between them narrowed down, Peter nervously reached out, his free hand suddenly taking up the space between them.

A surprisingly soft hand slipped into his a moment later – the touch was firm and efficient, only lingering a second longer than usually appropriate. “Nice to meet you, Peter. Please let MJ know that I really enjoyed the challenge of the flower choices. Geraniums are hard to come by this late in the season.”

Pulling away, despite the desperate want to have the man’s hands all over him, Peter nodded in understanding – most of both MJ and Darcy’s choices were high maintenance and unique. The planning of every step along the way had been an absolute bear. “That’s MJ for you,” Peter agreed with a light chuckle. “We’ve been scrambling around the last week or so trying to get all the details right.”

There was a shared moment of silence where the two simply smiled at each other. The florist seemed just as lost as Peter, the joint look of discomfort and wonder more telling than any words ever could be. For Peter, each second that passed was a small gift he gluttonously got to unwrap until the magic was broken.

“It’s her big day, she should have what she wants,” Tony finally replied, the words and a red blush breaking the silence. “I like the unique stuff, anyway – keeps the job interesting.”

Without missing a beat, a paper invoice was thrust in his direction. “I took out the delivery fee from the total since I was in the area already.”

After that, it didn’t take more than a couple of minutes to complete the transaction – the florist worked swiftly, his fingers nimble and knowledgeable in every movement he made as he swiped MJ’s card and handed it quickly back to Peter. The brush of their fingers in the exchange seemed purposeful, though – especially with the smirk and red blush that followed.

Caught up in how brilliant the look was, Peter didn’t realize there was nothing keeping him there until the shuffling of feet brought the reality of the situation back with a vengeance. As much as he wanted to stay and chat, or ask for a number, or even a name, Peter knew the time wasn’t right. He already felt so caught up – actually having access to his preoccupation wouldn’t be good for his focus. It was MJ’s day; he owed it to her to keep his shit together and make every second of it the very best.

Looking up, Peter shot the other man a large grin before lifting a hand, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “I better get back,” Peter started awkwardly, “but thank you – for helping make MJ’s day so beautiful.”

With a nod, the florist pocketed his phone and took off towards the parking lot. Peter watched him walk away just long enough to catch the glance over work-firm shoulders. Hazel and brown met for a moment before Peter forced himself to walk away – a large part of him wanted to sprint across the black top to stop the gorgeous man from leaving. Something in the pit of his chest was pulsing with life; the feeling was so foreign that Peter pushed it down and quickly ran in the opposite direction, instead.

Peter got back to the bridal suite in a wonky haze – so much so that he didn’t even realize he walked through the door until MJ’s voice broke through his rampaging thoughts. “Did you get everything squared away with Tony?”

Turning towards her, Peter tilted his head, a crease in his brow appearing in his confusion. “Tony?” Peter questioned as he made his way over to the big table in the center of the room to deposit both the invoice and MJ’s credit card.  

“Tony – the florist. I sent you to pay the bill. Please tell me you didn’t get lost along the way.” MJ shot him a knowing look, her hazel eyes blazing with affection. “He was a great help these last couple of months – matching all the colors would’ve been impossible without him.”

His brain halted for a second, the organ doing nothing but processing the fact that his handsome stranger now had a name. Recalling the beautiful face, Peter figured the name Tony fit the man pretty perfectly. With that knowledge, it was quickly becoming obvious that his focus was already shot – Tony with toned arms and a delectably deep voice already took up space there, just waiting to distract Peter at the worst possible time.

Like that moment, where MJ was staring at him with growing concern, waiting for a simple yes or no to her easily answerable question. Peter shot her an embarrassed grin when he got himself back under control. Sheepishly, he reached up to run a hand through his hair. “All is well. He told me to tell you he enjoyed the challenge. Oh, and he nixed the delivery fee – said he was already in the area.” He tried to sound cool as he spoke, to not give his interest away. Yet he knew almost immediately he wasn’t successful – Peter heard his own excitement as the words bounced around in his ears.

“So it’s like that,” MJ said, looking at him much more critically now.

“Like what?” Peter shot back, refusing to look her directly in the eye. She already caught the scent – the second he gave her the satisfaction of seeing the truth in his eyes, Peter would never hear the end of it. Regardless of the very important fact that Peter, despite wanting to more than ever, didn’t even pursue the obvious and very mutual interest.

Instead of pushing, MJ surprisingly let a knowing smile overtake her face.

“I see you Peter Parker.”

Luckily, the hustle and bustle of pre-wedding preparations and nerves that were inescapable, swept the subject right off the table a moment later. Peter happily helped MJ make her finishing touches in preparation for finally meeting her wife at the end of the aisle. Getting so swept up in it all, Peter allowed himself to forget the hazel eyed man for the rest of the evening. MJ and Darcy looked so happy – it was hard to see passed anything other than their beaming smiles and the bright future waiting for them.

----

The next few weeks passed by in a flash. Peter finally got some time to himself and reveled in it, taking advantage of every second of solitary freedom he could purge himself on before his final season began. Movies, books, and his favorite video games were the only thing Peter allowed himself to think about (and Tony, so many of his thoughts were about the gorgeous florist). He even went as far as to bar MJ and Darcy from the apartment when they got back from their honeymoon – it was the least they could do after running him ragged with errands and things over the previous few months. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the bombardment of newly wed grossness; it’d been some time since Peter felt the luscious caress of love against his heart and soul – and jealousy just didn’t look good on him.

When his self-imposed isolation came to an end, Peter begrudgingly got back into a suitable routine. Though cheer practice was different without MJ there, Peter easily sunk back into the drills and full body workouts that came after an entire summer off on their own. Hayley, their coach extraordinaire, pushed them hard in the beginning – it was the best way to filter out those who wouldn’t make it when the season really got started and competition prep took over all of their lives.

Once his muscles got used to the severe beating he took on a daily basis, Peter was more than ready for the year to start. Football games and the atmosphere that came with being a Boiler were a lot of fun; and with his decreased workload as a fifth-year senior, Peter planned to enjoy the easy-going nature of spirit and poms and comradery before the teeth came out and everyone’s battle armor settled into place. When competition season started, the team’s overall atmosphere and driving motivations changed.

Of course, just when Peter thought things were going just the way they should, karma came around to prove him wrong. After a long practice the week before the semester started, one of their flyers fell from a stunt, completely unaware of her contact with the ground’s effect until someone on the other side of the mat screamed. The sight, when Peter allowed himself to look, turned his stomach – he’d never seen a dislocated hip in person before and hoped to never do so again.

After the trauma of having the paramedics all over their turf, the team was given a couple of days off to recuperate. Peter and the rest of the squad planned to take advantage of the freedom by visiting Macy, who ended up having to have emergency surgery to save both her leg and her life. Though he knew a bouquet of flowers wouldn’t change the fact that she would never be able to cheer ever again, Peter figured it was a nice touch and planned to have one made before heading to the hospital.

Googling the closest florist, Peter was surprised to find a shop so near to campus. Many of the businesses surrounding Purdue were food joints or bars that were guaranteed to get a lot of steady business during the semester and over the summer. He wondered, just for a moment, how such a random store managed to survive the college population.

It took one look at the place to understand why the shop fit exactly where it was. Instead of the old lady feel he assumed he’d find, Peter stepped in front of a large windowed building with intricate flower arrangements filling the visible shelves. On the far side of the door was a mural of the Purdue P surrounded by all types of flora. The word Stark’s was camouflaged within the swarm of vines and greenery throughout the painting. It was well done and in the perfect, eye-catching spot.

A small bell over the door rang as Peter walked through it – at least one of the cliches in his mind was accurate. Grinning at the thought, Peter let his legs carry him further into the store, his head on a swivel to look at all the beautiful foliage placed strategically from one wall to the other. Though he knew nothing of plants, Peter understood the art of drawing attention – he participated in a sport that perfected it. From the placement to the intrigue, whoever owned the shop knew exactly what to do to draw a person in.

Peter stopped his exploration when a recognizable voice echoed throughout the space – “I’ll be right with you.” Upon hearing the timber and depth that haunted Peter every night since MJ’s wedding, he almost turned around and walked right back out of the store. He wasn’t equipped for the gorgeous man and his distracting smile and eyes and shapely ass.

Before he could make his feet move or even think, Tony and his inarguable gorgeousness walked in through the back door. His hands were covered in dirty gloves, a newly potted plant in the crook of his elbow. A denim apron covered a plain white t-shirt and black jeans that peaked out the bottom. At the sight of him, Peter had to force himself to keep his mouth closed and the pace of his heart under control – much like the last time he enjoyed the view, Peter wanted to bound across the distance and intimately get to know the other man.

Met with a smile when their eyes locked, Peter reminded himself to remain calm and smile back, to actually act like a human person with thoughts and the ability to actually articulate them. He came in here for a reason, walking out of the store with anything but the arrangement he wanted to bring to the hospital was unacceptable.

Tony, upon recognizing him, took the first step towards intelligible conversation.

“Peter, right? It’s nice to see you in here! How’d the wedding go?”

Blushing at the familiarity, Peter dipped his head and took a deep breath, hoping to collect himself enough to actually reply back. “Hi, yes. Peter. It’s nice to see you, too. I was surprised to see a flower shop in the middle of college central, but your place seems to fit in really nicely. No wonder MJ was pulled in,” Peter said in reply, getting the words out all at once to make sure they all saw the light of day. “The wedding was beautiful. Both brides are blissfully happy, and your floral arrangements were the topic of several conversations I had that night. You do good work, Tony.”

Peter’s heart stopped when Tony tilted his head back into a laugh a moment later. How did someone look so sexy doing something so base? No matter what happened, Peter knew he’d never understand such a thing. To cover up his reaction, Peter added his own laugh to the mix – the sounds harmonious in the empty shop.

“Yeah, I’m sure my flowers were a hot topic of conversation, especially with those beautiful women in the room. Thanks for the kind words, though,” Tony mumbled through a laugh. As he spoke, Tony reached up to brush an errant curl from his forehead – without the hat, the hair on Tony’s head looked unruly and all over the place, untamed and absolutely beautiful. The move left the smallest remnant of dirt on his skin, the black flecks of soil like little calling cards with Peter’s name on them. His fingers itched to reach up and brush them away. Tony’s next words shook him of the thought – “What brings you in today?”

“One of my teammates fell and injured herself pretty severely. We, as a team, decided to rub in the fact that she’ll never join us on the mat again by visiting her now that she’s out of the ICU. I figured some pretty flowers might soften the blow,” Peter explained, coloring at the blunt honesty that trickled from his mouth.

Tony looked intrigued, the other man completely unfazed by Peter’s word choice and candid nature. “Must be a dangerous sport if you guys are nursing career ending injuries.” He signaled for Peter to follow him with a swift flick of his hand.

“I’ve seen some pretty intense injuries in my long cheerleading career, for sure. People flying through the air, and all that. I wouldn’t call the sport in general dangerous, per say – I’d say the expectations we have to meet are what’s dangerous. The look, the difficulty of the stunts we make our bodies do – it’s demanding,” Peter remarked, following a couple steps behind Tony as they walked.

“Sounds misogynistic as hell.”

Laughing at the truth of Tony’s statement, Peter nodded enthusiastically. His heart felt warm from the idea of the random stranger in front of him understanding his struggles better than May and Ben ever could. Tony didn’t know him, and yet Peter couldn’t remember ever feeling so seen. “Oh, it is. The beauty standards are unbelievable and if you’re a male in the cheer world, forget it – you’re fodder for mockery and intense judgement. I fit the stereotype and even I can’t catch a break.”

“What’s the stereotype?” Tony asked with a soft tilt of his head and curiousness in his eyes.

They stopped suddenly then – the space between them was narrowed down to a couple of feet with an abundance of plants surrounding them on both sides. If he took a step or two forward, Peter wouldn’t have too much trouble reaching out and touching Tony’s beautifully tanned skin like he so desperately wanted to. It took too much effort to stop himself from doing exactly that. How exhausting.

Without waiting another beat or giving himself another moment to eye kissable lips, Peter uttered the answer with subtle breathlessness – “Gay. Flaming homosexual is usually what people attribute to the men of the cheer world.”

Color travelled up Tony’s cheeks, his lips quirking ever so slightly. He took his time answering, the man obviously thinking through his reply before blurting whatever he had to say into the universe. “Huh. That’s interesting, considering football players don’t go a play without touching each other on the ass.” Tony stopped for a second, making sure to catch Peter’s eye. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Peter answered immediately, the words coming out of his mouth without thought. “Its been my life since 7th grade.”

“I guess that’s all that matters, then,” Tony replied softly, a small, familiar smile on his lips. “Now back to your friend – what’s her favorite color?”

For the next half an hour, Peter learned about flower language and the subtle way to artfully layer flowers so the colors blended meaningfully together. Peter didn’t retain too much about the flowers themselves – they were beautiful and coordinated perfectly, but Tony out shone them all. He was obviously in his element; the simple way the information fell from his mouth spoke of years of study and tons of hands-on knowledge. Not only was the man smart, he had an eye for style and created little living masterpieces without much thought.

By the time Peter worked up the courage to make any sort of move, they were at the register, seconds away from a complete transaction. He was in too deep to let the spark between them go another time. Steeling himself for whatever might come, Peter took a deep breath and leapt. “Hey, before I go – would you like to go out with me sometime? I have a chef friend that makes killer steak frites.”

For what it was worth, the look of surprise that crossed over Tony’s face was brief. It made Peter’s breath catch in anticipation – for the first time in their short acquaintance, Peter felt uncertain. The feeling quickly passed, however; Tony’s face split into a beaming smile, the earlier surprise so easily replaced with seemingly genuine happiness.

“Yeah, I’d love to. I close up shop around 6 – are you free tonight?” Tony’s cheeks were stained with a rapidly darkening, gorgeous blush, hazel eyes shining.

Peter couldn’t remember what the next ten minutes entailed, let alone that evening – yet, whatever it was, he’d happily reschedule. There wasn’t a single thing that would stop him from saying yes to whatever Tony suggested. “I am. How about I meet you out front at 6:30? I’ll call Tasha and grab us a table for 7.”

Tony nodded, reaching across the counter towards Peter’s phone. “That sounds good. I’ll give you my number in case something changes. I’ve got a greenhouse out back and tend to forget myself. I sometimes lose track of time.”

Completely taken by every new thing he learned about Tony, Peter opened the phone and pushed it in Tony’s direction without hesitation. He didn’t expect the older man to be so forward – then again, Peter wasn’t all that surprised, either; Tony owned, operated, and supplied a successful business – he had to know what he was doing to some extent.

Watching with a delirious sort of haze, Peter followed as Tony’s fingers enter his number, then hit the green button to call himself. A phone on the back counter buzzed a couple of times before Tony ended the call and slid Peter’s phone back to him. “See you later, Peter. Tell your friend I wish her a speedy recovery.”

Numb hands grabbed the arrangement off the counter – Peter raised it towards Tony in a mock solute. “Until tonight, then.” Peter muttered the words excitedly. “Bye, Tony.”

He forced himself to keep his head down in hopes of actually making it out of the store. Peter wanted to turn around and look goofily at Tony – now that he knew his feelings were reciprocated, there was nothing stopping his desire from slipping out. Since the wedding, Peter forced the thought of strong arms and bright eyes from his head, just to be haunted by Tony’s beauty when he closed his eyes and let sleep take hold. His subconscious wasn’t on board with suppressing his urges – the fact that karma played a role made the rightness he felt even more valid.

Tony wanted him too.

His visit with Macy and the team was an immediate drag to his mood – the mix of emotions of the people surrounding their friend attempting to express sympathy was exhausting. Every person in the room feared Macy’s position in the bed. Some handled the anxiety better than others. The one bright spot of the visit, of course, was Tony’s arrangement. MJ immediately recognized the man’s work and winked at him knowingly. Peter didn’t stop a grin from slipping across his face; in their silent means of communication, the look was answer enough.

MJ corned him in the parking lot everyone dispersed to an appropriate amount of time later. When the room started to get too cloying, Peter made his excuses, prompting everyone to follow suit. There was only so much sad he could take – especially when a potential light in his dark tunnel shone so bright, waiting for him just hours away. They stopped at the trunk of Peter’s car, MJ leaning against the bumper like always. “Peter, spill. I haven’t seen that goofy look on your face since high school. Did something happen with Tony?”

Snorting at MJ’s impeccable awareness, Peter shifted until he could wrap his arm around her. He leaned his head against the side of MJ’s, closing his eyes. “Your florist is the best-looking man I’ve ever laid eyes on. I maturely held myself back at the wedding to be there with you in the moment and those karma points I banked were good to me today. I walked into Stark’s for some flowers for Macy and couldn’t bear to walk out without a chance to see him again.” Peter turned his head until he could press a kiss to her forehead. “We’re going out tonight.”

“I’m happy for you,” MJ said, her thin arms wrapping around him. “When I first met him, I thought you two might like each other. He’s older, a little weird, smart as hell – just your type.”

“I guess there’s a reason why you’re my best friend,” Peter quipped. “Seriously, though. Thank you – you always point me in the right direction. I really like him.”

MJ pulled back just enough to tap her forefinger against Peter’s nose – the move their sign of affection for years now. “Go get your man, Pete.”

----

To stop himself from pacing up and down the hall of his apartment, Peter went to the fitness center on campus – a hard workout with the weights was exactly what his body needed. Sweating and listening to a couple of playlists took Peter away from his thoughts of dinner later and into a mindset that let him just exist. It didn’t hurt that the pump in his arms looked amazing by the time he packed up and called it a day.

Timing it perfectly, Peter left himself an hour to get back to his apartment, shower, and decide on an outfit that didn’t shout desperate, but expressed his implicit interest, too. Not living too far from campus made it easy to fret about his clothes after a lengthy shower that took every ounce of Peter’s willpower to not masturbate anxiously. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to face the star of his fantasies head on after beating off to the thought of Tony’s tanned skin and gorgeous smile.

After a few restless passes through every piece in his closet, Peter took a large step back, attempting to clear his head. From what he already learned of the older man, Peter knew Tony looked flawless in anything – his style was basic, but the casual nature in which it was worn made the look stylish, anyway. Tasha’s restaurant wasn’t the fanciest place in the world and the pressing feeling of being comfortable in Tony’s presence made an outfit pop into Peter’s head after a couple of long breaths that helped to calm him down.

Peter slipped into his favorite dark wash jeans, smiling all the while – it seemed silly, the anxiety he danced with less than five minutes ago. He’d felt nothing but ease and excitement around Tony, getting himself prepared for a date with the man wasn’t as life and death as he let himself believe. Stressing over something that felt simple in every other way was a new feeling – Peter carried an abundance of confidence with him everywhere. The change made Peter believe whatever might happen with Tony was different and so much better than any other romantic dalliance he’d ever taken part in.

The outfit was finished with a couple small sprays of his favorite cologne – Peter only broke out the fancy stuff for special occasions. With a tug to his rolled shirt sleeve and the slightest adjustment of his collar, Peter took a deep breath and wandered across the room to stop in front of his mirror. His straight legged jeans were clasped at the waist with a black leather belt that cut Peter’s figure dramatically. Both muscular and trim, Peter went out of his way to make sure each attribute was highlighted appropriately. A white and blue stripped short sleeve button up wrapped around Peter’s firm biceps and tucked neatly into his waistband to highlight the narrowness of his hips.

Aside from the rogue curls Peter couldn’t tame, he felt good about the way he looked – the outfit and the confidence it made him feel would be a hit. Tony seemed to like the upfront and honest way he presented himself, there wasn’t any reason to change that now. Allowing himself one last look, Peter turned away from the mirror and made his last-minute preparations – he pocketed his wallet and keys and grabbed a jacket off the coat hook on his way out of the door.

It took less than five minutes to get to Tony’s shop – without the daily traffic on the road, the drive was easy. Pocketing that fact for another time, Peter climbed out of the car excitedly; for the first time in a while, Peter felt ready to date. Tony presented intrigue and want and a curiosity that Peter hoped to cling to for as long as possible. The simple fact that Peter already felt that way spoke volumes.

A door shutting brought Peter’s attention to the sidewalk in front of him. He expected to find Tony turned around to lock the front door of the shop, yet the older man was closing a door on the side of the building instead. Even more interested now, Peter started to head in that direction.

“I live in a huge loft above the shop,” Tony said with a knowing tone, answering Peter’s unspoken question without any sort of hesitation. “When I first bought the building, a storefront wasn’t what I initially had in mind. After I opened up the shop, it made the most sense.” Tony continued to speak as he closed the distance between them.

A soft pair of lips were pressed lightly against Peter’s cheek before he could think, let alone reply. Peter felt his cheeks and neck light up with a heated flush, his body temperature skyrocketing. Tony’s next words only added to the feeling – “You look amazing, Peter.”

Swallowing his awkwardness, Peter smiled in Tony’s direction, finally taking the man in front of him fully. Tony’s legs were encased in charcoal grey jeans that were rolled twice at the cuff. The edges sat nicely against a pair of black and white vans. The tanned arms Peter hadn’t been able to stop thinking about were on display – Tony’s short sleeve button up was perfectly tight against a trim chest and firm shoulders. Other than the stubble Peter figured Tony always had, the man’s cheeks were smooth – highlighting how gorgeous the florist truly was. It didn’t hurt that their fashion senses were similar, either; Peter wondered for a moment where Tony got the floral shirt currently driving him crazy.

“You’re stunning,” Peter eventually managed to say, his breathy words finally breaking his minutes long silence. “You’ve looked great in every way I’ve seen you – covered in dirt, sweaty and working, dressed to impress – it’s kind of not fair, Tony.” Peter let the truth of what he just said sit transparently on his face. They were passed the point of coyness and subtlety; Peter wanted Tony to know he was wanted, even though they hadn’t known each other long.

His bluntness seemed to do the trick – Tony grinned widely in his direction, avoiding direct eye contact with Peter in obvious hope of getting himself back under control. “Charmer,” Tony muttered, stepping a little closer to Peter to emphasis his point.

After opening the passenger side door like the gentleman he was, Peter settled behind the wheel and onto the main road. Tasha was a former teammate, a senior his freshman year, that escaped to Paris – only to make her way back to Indiana and use the knowledge she gained in one of the cooking capitals of the world. Over the years, Silver became a regular place for Peter and the team to spend their classier nights. The food was amazing, and Tasha’s unique style made the minimalism the restaurant was known for interesting and thought provoking. When he called to make the reservation, Tasha cooed in Peter’s ear while saving his favorite table for 7.

They made easy small talk during the drive over – Peter described the pre-season workouts he’d been trucking through while Tony regaled him with a story of his last customer of the day who tried to steal roses by stuffing them down her shirt. As he listened and absorbed, Peter realized Tony was funny and full to the brim of wit – he laughed freely, the sound so joyful, Peter couldn’t help but join in. They were still chatting as the hostess led them to their table and set large menus before them.

Their drink orders were taken almost immediately – the serving staff was familiar with Peter and must’ve been tipped off before they got there. A bottle of red wine was set on the table before either of them could delve back into their previous conversation. Peter poured them each a glass, then pointed at the menu – “Did anything catch your eye?”

“I thought I’d go with the steak frites. Out of all the dishes on this extensive menu, that one immediately came to your mind. Seems like as good a reason as any to give them a try,” Tony reasoned, lifting the wine to his lips as he spoke. “What about you?”

Peter’s cheeks were already starting to hurt from the giddy smile he couldn’t help – talking and joking and simply being with Tony felt so natural. He didn’t have to think to reply casually to whatever they were talking about. “I get them every time I’m here. When Tasha first opened this place, she’d just lay dishes on the table when we sat down. I stopped being her menu taster when she introduced me to the steak frites. I haven’t had anything else here since,” Peter admitted, his cheeks flaming once again.

“You’re one of those people, huh?” Tony shot back, grinning all the while.

“One of those people?”

Tony grinned a little wider, his eyes shining with affectionate enjoyment. Before he replied, the older man slipped his hand across the table, taking Peter’s fingers lightly. “Yeah, one of those people. Someone that gets the same dish at every Chinese or Italian place they go to, no matter the options.” His thumb trailed over the back of Peter’s hand. “You like what you like.”

Feeling a little called out, Peter ducked his head to stop anymore redness from overtaking his skin – he probably resembled a tomato already. It was crazy – to feel so happy being teased. “Okay, yeah – I’m one of those people. I’ll try that one dish anywhere, though.”

They traded a few barbs back and forth until they ordered, and their dishes were sat down in front of them. Without the threat of interruptions in the near future, Peter felt ready to broach some of the more personal topics – for the first time on a date, Peter genuinely wanted to listen and find out more about the person across from him.

“So, tell me more about yourself – who is Tony Stark when not covered in dirt or up to his elbows in beautiful flowers?” Peter cut into his steak as he spoke, hoping the relaxed way he asked the question would take a little tension off Tony’s obligation to answer. The last thing he wanted to do was make their time together feel like an interrogation.

Tony didn’t seem to mind, though – he looked up with a tilt of his head. “What do you want to know? I’m shockingly not covered in dirt a lot of my time throughout the day.”

“How did your love for flowers start? Did you study horticulture in college?” Peter decided to ask.

Smiling lightly, Tony shifted in his seat, preparing himself for story time. “I studied Botany and Plant Pathology, actually. I have a doctorate in Plant Genetics and Soil and Water Sciences. During my plant genetics studies, I did some time abroad that took me to every continent – seeing the wide range of flora that exists in this world was the first time I ever thought about making plants and flowers a daily part of my life to the extent they are now.” Tony stopped to meaningfully catch Peter’s eyes.

“I used to be a professor at Purdue – when the restrictions of the lab became too much, I ditched the academic world and opened up the shop. I’ve been elbows deep in beautiful flowers ever since.” Tony winked in his direction, repeating his words jokingly back to him. “What about you? You cheer and charm unsuspecting old men, I know that. What else do you get up to?”

“You’re the only unsuspecting older guy I want to be charming, don’t you worry,” Peter reassured Tony with a soft chuckle. “When I’m not sweeping you off your feet, I study Philosophy and play a stupid amount of video games. Cheer and all that comes with it takes up a lot of my time, though. Most of my college life has revolved around football games and competitions.”

“Sweeping me off my feet – jeez, Pete,” Tony mumbled. His cheeks were red and the smile he wore spoke of happiness and enjoyment. “I took a couple of Philosophy classes during my undergrad days. What do you plan to do with an entire degree with it?”

A laugh slipped from Peter’s mouth at Tony’s question – though many people asked him that very same thing, no one presented it quite like Tony did. “You’d be surprised by what you can do with a Philosophy degree,” Peter retorted. “I want to be a bioethicist. My minor is Public Health – when I put my cheer shoes away for good, I hope to get a master’s in Bioethics and finally get into the realm I want to be in.”

Tony tilted his head then, his eyes roaming over Peter curiously. “What made you want to get into that? I’m sure there aren’t a lot of young bucks walking into higher education with their sights set on changing the medical world like that.”

Sucking in a long breath, Peter let the question sit on the air for a moment. He swirled the last of his wine in the glass before drinking it. “My parents were in a car accident a couple of days before my 10th birthday. My dad passed away immediately, but my mom – she hung on for an extra couple of days. There was a lot of internal bleeding that they were worried about. In all that worry, they didn’t wait for scan results or blood work to come back before they attempted a new, exploratory surgery. She didn’t make it back out of the operating room.”

Peter paused for a moment, catching his breath. “I was old enough to know someone fucked up and when I looked into it later, I decided I never wanted to let someone feel like I did in a crisis like that. There’s got to be someone who reviews the evidence and makes the ethically just decision to save someone’s life. Why shouldn’t it be me?”

For a second, Peter thought he went a little bit too far – there was a tense moment of silence that felt heavy after revealing something so personal. Peter bit into his bottom lip, not letting himself look up to see whatever reaction existed on Tony’s face. Then, a soft touch brushed across the back of Peter’s hand, Tony’s calloused fingers wrapping around his own. A brief squeeze had Peter looking up, his breath catching at the awe that met him. “I’m sorry to hear about your parents, Pete. Mine aren’t around anymore, either. It’s kind of cliché to say that you saw the deeper meaning of something so tragic, but it’s true. You’re using your pain to make the world better. That’s good shit,” Tony said, his voice hinting at a note of finality – like nothing would change his mind of the thought.

His certainty made Peter feel light, the weight of his emotional burden finally lifting from him after so many years. What a difference it made, to be so easily understood.  

That light and airy feeling followed Peter throughout the rest of the evening – he smiled widely as Tony talked about his greenhouse while they shared a small chocolate tart between them. For all that his physical attraction was worth, Peter was genuinely surprised to realize that he felt a personal connection to the florist, too. They led different lives but shared enough similarities to make the time spent together more than worth it. Peter liked Tony and from the looks and subtle touches Tony bestowed upon him all evening, Peter figured Tony might like him, too.

Tony proved that thought to be true when they pulled up in front of his place – “Do you want to come up? I had a really nice time tonight and don’t want it to end.” Tony’s words were said through a saucy smile, his intention more than clear in the look in his eyes.

Peter didn’t hesitate to give his answer – leaning forward, he gripped the side of Tony’s cheeks, using his hold as leverage to pull Tony a little closer. They met in the middle, their lips pressing together softly.

----

Things progressed pretty quickly from there. Tony led Peter up a small flight of stairs into an open room. As expected, plants and flowers were scattered around the place, covering all of the flat surfaces with adequate enough sunlight. A comfortable looking couch and kitchen table took up one corner of the room while a large, king-sized bed took up the rest of the free space of the room. There wasn’t much clutter and all of the things that Tony had, he more than likely used. It was simple and perfect, much like the person who resided there.

Tony didn’t let Peter take in the room for too long – before he could walk around and snoop, Tony’s arms were around Peter’s hips, pulling him close. Peter eagerly met Tony in the middle, their lips sealing together in the delicious slide of tongue and teeth and wet, panted breath. As the kisses deepened and their bodies moved closer to each other, Peter started to impatiently thumb at Tony’s buttons, his palms and fingers running over every inch of bare skin he revealed to the cold air. Tony followed suit; his movements much more impatient than Peter’s were. By the time they made it over to the bed, Tony was pulling down Peter’s pants and boxer briefs. He gladly joined Tony in nakedness before climbing onto the inviting mattress.

“Holy shit, this is comfortable,” Peter babbled absentmindedly, his limbs stretching as far as they could go.

“It’s the one thing I refuse to compromise on. I want to be comfortable when I partake in all the activities a bed is good for,” Tony replied as he climbed onto the bed and fit himself between Peter’s legs. “You’ll be even more impressed in the morning,”

For a while after that, there weren’t any words exchanged. Peter kept his mouth busy by pressing kisses into Tony’s neck and upper chest – Tony’s cologne was prominent, pulling Peter in the more he breathed the delicious smell in. Tony let Peter riddle his skin with marks and spit while he ran his hands all over Peter’s skin. Their hips were lined up and with every thrust Peter made up, Tony rolled his hips down until their cocks brushed delightfully. They were both so caught up in each other that nothing but touching and experiencing actually mattered.

It’d been so long for Peter that he found himself coming to a breathless crescendo fast. After a few minutes of passively letting Peter kiss him, Tony took control of things – his hips set the tempo and his hands and lips laid down the distraction. So overwhelmed from it all, Peter wasn’t aware of how close he was until his orgasm slammed into him out of nowhere. “Oh fuck, Tony! I’m – I’m going to come,” Peter panted out, his body thrumming with life and want and a desire he couldn’t hold back.

“Oh, Tony!” Peter practically screamed a moment later – Tony dirtily rolled his hips to toss him deliciously over the edge.

Panted breath filled the room as Peter rode the high of his orgasm. Tony placed tiny, teasing kisses against any part of Peter’s skin he could reach. Reaching down, Peter gripped the sides of Tony’s face until they were looking at each other – Tony met his eyes with a self-satisfied smirk. “How good is your turnaround time?”

Laughing, Peter leaned forward to give Tony a kiss. His cock was already starting to fill out again – having Tony so close set his body on fire. “Ten minutes at the max,” Peter mumbled after a moment of cataloging his heavy limbs and the desire that was rampaging through them.

“Good. Then you’ll have plenty of time to prep me before you fuck me.”

Lost in the words for a moment, Peter was immobile until Tony tapped his side with a cold lube bottle to get his attention. “You want me to fuck you?” Peter dumbly asked, his mind still trying to catch up.

“Yeah, Pete. I want to feel you inside of me. Your body is trim and fit – I can only imagine how good you’re going to fuck me,” Tony admitted without shame. He moved out of the splay of Peter’s thighs, climbing to his hands and knees, instead.

Not wanting to lose his chance, Peter launched himself into action. He ran his hands over the planes of Tony’s sides and back, tracing the small scars and tiny moles scattered across pale skin. His fingers were eager to categorize and map, but his impatience was too great. Tony pressed back into him, as if he too was starting to feel anxious for what was coming next.

Uncapping the lube, Peter drizzled a good amount onto two of his fingers, pausing just long enough to warm the slick to body temperature. When he felt ready, Peter pressed the tips of both his fingers to Tony’s eagerly waiting hole, tracing and circling the muscle to spread the lube and relax the man he was touching. Little by little, his first finger slipped in without much resistance. Tony bared down against him and let the digit slip all the way in until the webbing of Peter’s finger stopped him.

Now that the warm heat was wrapped around him, Peter wanted to take his time, letting Tony get used to the feeling while he explored and reached. Tony’s entire body jolted forward when Peter finally found that delicate nub.

“Shit – do that again!” Tony shouted; his voice laced with a breathy moan.

Unable to do anything but give into what they both wanted, Peter continued his ministrations, teasing Tony with one, two, and then three fingers. He scissored and pressed against the edge of Tony’s rim, loosening the muscle as he went. When he pressed inside, Peter caressed Tony’s insides, just barely pressing against his prostate until Tony was humping back with exaggerated impatience.

“I’m good, Pete. I’m good. Please, I want you,” Tony pleaded as he reached back and felt around for whatever lenght of Peter’s skin he could reach.

Completely hard once again, Peter was more than ready to feel Tony wrapped around him – after an easy orgasm already, Peter knew he’d be able to make their coupling worth it. Opening the tube of lube again, Peter drizzled more of it directly onto the length of his cock, and then a bit more around Tony’s rim. He stroked himself a couple of times, then shifted until the head of his cock could drag through the lube coating Tony’s skin.

He teased them both for a moment, tracing Tony’s rim with the wet head of his cock to ramp up that initial moment of anticipation. Peter kept up his antics until his own body couldn’t take it any longer – every part of him craved the warm embrace of Tony’s hole. With that thought in mind, Peter used one of his hands to grip Tony’s hip, using his hold to pull the other man back against him as he thrust forward. Breaching the muscle felt like coming home – he threw his head back with a rough groan; maybe he wouldn’t last as long as he initially thought.

“Tony, Tony, Tony – you feel fucking amazing,” Peter panted through clenched teeth, his body fighting hard against the need to thrust forward and take, take, take.

Tony reached back to grab at Peter’s hand on his hip to tangle their fingers together, instead. They shared a few breaths while Tony got used to the stretch of Peter within him, the mere connection between them radiating a different sort of heat while they waited.

Finally, Peter felt Tony relax around him enough for his hips to draw back and press forward without much effort. He kept his thrusts slow to start; his cock was throbbing from the realization that it was Tony below him – picking up the pace was a sure-fire way to end things a lot quicker than either of them wanted. When Tony started to thrust back against him, however, Peter lost more and more of his control. His hips snapped forward, their skin slapping together to make a loud sound that echoed around the room. With every thrust in, Tony moved with him – the tip of Peter’s cock was poised to press perfectly against Tony’s prostate every time.

Between the sounds dripping from Tony’s mouth and the delightful squeeze around his length, Peter was a few thrusts away from slipping over the edge once more. He tried to shift so he could wrap his fingers around Tony’s cock to get him there too, but he was met with a long stare over Tony’s shoulder – dark hazel eyes were on fire, pushing him to thrust harder and forget everything else. Tony’s body was taut, obviously strung out and seconds away from breaking apart. Finally understanding, Peter straightened out his chest, gripped Tony’s hips in both hands, and let himself go.

In the end, it was hard to decide who tumbled over the edge first. Tony shouted Peter’s name and tightened impossibly tight around him. The extra stimulus was the perfect thing to bring the heat in Peter’s belly to an overflowing boiling point. He tucked his head into the sweaty length of Tony’s neck and groaned, Tony’s name and fuck and unintelligible noises added to the symphony their joining created around the room.

Managing to just barely turn Tony as his body collapsed, Peter hit the mattress hard – his cock slipped out of the blissful heat, dragging a long groan from the depth of Peter’s chest. Being inside of Tony already felt like home; both his body and his heart were convinced. Wrapping his arm around Tony’s hip to compensate, Peter snuggled into the man’s sweaty back, keeping their bodies close.

“I – Tony. That was…” Peter started to mutter, his brain still not back online like the rest of him. Tony looked over his shoulder, affection and appreciation alive in the hazel of his eyes. They shared a heated stare as Tony pulled Peter’s hand more firmly across his chest – they didn’t need words in that moment, merely touching and existing in the same orbit was more than enough.

----

After that first passionate night, Peter spent almost all of his free time with Tony. With the shop being so close to campus, it was easy to lean on Tony’s close proximity and the joyful happiness Peter felt whenever they were together. The natural way their lives just sort of combined with each other proved how right they were for each other. Where others were wrapped up in the time Peter spent away from them, Tony enjoyed the fact that they led separate lives. Peter got to keep cheerleading and Tony at the same time without the two battling against each other. He didn’t know it before Tony came into his life, but that level of acceptance was everything Peter needed from another person to both excel and feel happiness.

Before Peter knew it, four months were behind them – though it hadn’t been that long, most of Peter’s things took up space in Tony’s apartment and every thought Peter had revolved around the life he was trying to create with the older man. He even took the time to learn more about Tony’s body of work – they spent many of their afternoons together in the backyard with Tony working the greenhouse while Peter practiced tumbling or simply watched his boyfriend in his element. Peter couldn’t recall another person making him feel so dumbfounded playing in the dirt the way Tony did – it wouldn’t matter what the man did, either; Peter would find something to be amazed about.

It was Tony that drew him in; his personality, thoughts, and the eager way he gave back to Peter spoke to a part of himself that he never knew existed.

Which was how he found himself nervously awaiting Tony’s arrival at the Purdue football stadium – aside from MJ and Darcy, Tony’s appearance at the football game would be the first time any of his friends met the older man. The fall, much like Peter, was a busy time of the year for Tony. Between weddings, showers, and parties, Tony’s weekends were filled to the brim. The homecoming game was the first game that the home schedule actually lined up with Tony’s off day. He couldn’t wait for Tony to watch him do the thing he loved in the uniform he felt proud to wear. Selfishly, he wanted to see that same sort of pride radiating from the person he’d fallen in love with.

The forty minutes they were trapped in the locker room before the game started felt like torture – his phone vibrated against his thigh a couple of minutes after they headed in from warm-ups. Tony was navigating the stadium’s security to get to the sideline spot Peter secured for him. When they walked back onto the field, Tony would be there eagerly waiting for him.

Finally, the performance lights flickered, and they were ushered to their usual entrance. The large black and gold flag he carried in his hands was lighter than usual – his excitement pumped through him, the dopamine of happiness causing a rush of energy. As the announcer pumped up the crowd, Peter caught the eyes of his teammates around him, sharing the hype he felt.

Running across the thick white lines never felt better – by the time he crossed center field, Peter caught sight of Tony in the corner. His boyfriend was clapping loudly, the honey-hazel of his eyes glued to Peter’s every move. The familiar feeling that Tony’s love created in him spread through Peter’s chest, showing itself off as a giant, beaming smile.

They didn’t get much of a chance to talk throughout the first half of the game – Peter’s stunt group was responsible for the spirit stuff for the first and second quarter. Instead, Peter sent Tony messages with his eyes, showing off his skills and tumbling talents whenever he could. It was almost better that way – Tony got to experience Peter in his element without any pressure to respond. The crowd going wild around them only added to the experience. For once, Peter got to put on the show.

When Peter got to wander off after the half-time performance, he was wrapped up in a bear-hug the second Tony could get his arms around him. Peter was covered in sweat and glitter and the annoying little turf beads that always stuck to his skin, but Tony didn’t seem to care. The older man picked him up, spinning him around excitedly. “Pete, you’re so talented. I about shit my pants when you back flipped for so long down the field, but damn – the skill you possess,” Tony gushed, tucking his face into Peter’s neck to calm himself down.

Not wanting to lose the upbeat energy, Peter cupped Tony’s cheeks in both of his hands. Tony leaned into the touch, tilting his head back to look at him. “I’m so happy you’re here,” Peter started, leaning forward to steal a quick kiss. “I’ve been on point all day because of you. I can feel you watching me – I want to be good for you.” The last words were whispered in his ear, the impact of them hitting Peter hard across his lower back as Tony wrapped him up and pulled him close.

“You’re the only thing I see,” Tony mumbled back, his tone all the sudden low and gravelly.

After leaning in to give Tony a heated kiss, Peter forced himself to pull back – he stepped out of Tony’s embrace completely. If he stayed there any longer, he wouldn’t make it back to the locker room at all. Smirking in Tony’s direction, Peter thrust his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got to go, or I’ll never leave. See you after?”

“I’ll meet you out front,” Tony said with a nod, his anxious hands reaching out to squeeze Peter’s hand once more. “Keep kicking ass, Pete.”

His role during the third and fourth quarter was a lot more passive than the first half of the game. Since the Boilers were up more than two touchdowns, a lot of the crowd left after the first few minutes of the third quarter – that meant the younger stunters and less experienced tumblers got to have some time on the field. To stop himself from straying over towards Tony, Peter put all of his effort into helping his littles. It didn’t work nearly as well as he figured it might, but he got through the rest of the game with minimal distraction.

Hayley’s speech was inspirational and moving like usual – they were done with football home games for the season and their success was obvious and highlighted in her moving words. The next couple of months of the season were the calm before the storm and they were all looking forward to the small break basketball games posed for them. Competition season started after the holidays and no rest would be spared. Though he always appreciated her words, Peter wished for them to quickly come to an end.

Before he even finished the thought, Hayley was circling them up, calling out the cheer that they all echoed back. As he shifted to move out of the circle, a firm grip stopped him. “I believe this is for you,” Hayley said, handing over a classic red rose.

“Hayley, who’s this from?” Peter asked, trying his best to tamper down the hope that maybe Tony was the stupidly romantic culprit.

With a knowing smile, Hayley shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, “He said you’d know.”

Pulling the rose to his chest, Peter ducked his nose to sniff at the crisp petals. It was de-thorned and freshly cut – Tony’s markers were all over the beautiful gesture. His cheeks were already sore from all the beaming he’d been doing all night, the face splitting smile only made it worse. Despite that, Peter wore it throughout his post-game routine and out the door where he ran directly into MJ.

“MJ! What are you doing here?” Peter threw his arms around her then, careful not to crush the flower still in his hand.

Thin arms returned the hug – MJ brought him tightly to her chest with a hard squeeze. It’d been a few weeks since they’d seen each other. Seeing her standing there, Peter realized it’d been too long.

“I couldn’t miss homecoming. I am an alumna after all,” MJ replied, her wide eyes never leaving him. Watching her closely, Peter felt a gasp leave his lips when she brought another classic red rose up, running the flower under her nose. “This needed delivering, too.”

Peter gripped the rose lightly, tucking it against the other one in his hand. Each of the petals were perfect and from the small lessons he got from Tony whenever they handled the clipped flowers, Peter knew what the giving of classic red roses meant. It only seemed right that Tony clued him in that way.

“Don’t fuck this up, Peter. I really like him, too,” MJ remarked as she moved in to press a soft kiss on his cheek. He kept her close for a moment, simply soaking in her presence. “He’s waiting for you out front. Go get your man, Pete.”

A soft laugh left his lips, MJ said that to him when she first learned about his date with Tony. It wasn’t lost on him how full circle everything felt. The rightness of being with Tony existed in every aspect of his life – each little sign made the delirious heat in his chest burn that much brighter.

Giving MJ one more squeeze, Peter broke away to quickly make his way towards the front of the stadium where Tony was waiting for him. He wasn’t sure what he did to deserve such a sweet display of affection – Tony knew Peter appreciated the simple day to day life they were slowly creating with each other. At the same time, Peter’s heart was hammering in his chest at the thought that Tony deemed him worthy of such a gesture.

Peter found Tony leaning up against one of the large pillars just outside the exit doors. In the darkness, the honey color of his eye shone like melted pools of gold. Narrowing the distance between them became the only thing on Peter’s mind, he picked up his pace and practically threw himself in Tony’s arms.

The sigh along the length his neck made Peter tuck in a little tighter against Tony, his heart pounding with affection. He pulled back before the roses in his hand could get squished in the intensity of their embrace. Peter brought the flowers to his nose, keeping Tony’s eye as he did. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Peter sing-songed, grinning at the flush that spread over Tony’s cheeks with every word.

Tony nodded at him, tilting his head with a mischievous look of his own. “It looks like you’re missing one, though,” Tony remarked. The long stem in his hand was darker than the others, symbolizing love yet to be realized. Their fingers brushed as Peter took it, his brow quirked in intrigue.

“I love you, Pete. I’ve known since you walked through the door of my shop that you were special. Every second with you has made my life just a little bit better. I know it hasn’t been that long, but I’m mad about you. Over the fucking moon.” Tony walked into his space then, his hands cupping Peter’s cheeks.

Surging forward, Peter caught Tony’s lips in a passionate kiss, their noses bumping in the process. They sipped from each other’s mouths until the need to breath became pressing. Instead of pulling away, Peter leaned his forehead against Tony’s, closing his eyes to revel in the contentment that wrapped around them both. After a couple of shared breaths, Peter blinked to catch Tony’s eye. “I love you too, Tony,” Peter whispered back.

With a wide grin, Tony leaned in again, mumbling “I know” against Peter’s lips.

[blindingdutchy]

lamentation | FIVE

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 4,111

warnings: mostly fluff, some angst toward the end, mentions of injury

18+!!! minors stay away!

You didn't get much work done with Peter during the weekend. Following your emotional outburst over the argument between the pair of you, Peter stayed at your house surprisingly late into the night. You both seemed to agree the project could wait for a different day, and instead of working you spent the evening talking. While you didn't have much to talk about, Peter had a seemingly endless supply of subject matter to keep you both entertained.

Already you could tell that you were growing attached to him, probably far too much and far too soon, but there was no stopping it any longer. He made you feel good things and gave you a sense of normalcy you'd been craving for so long; there was no way you were giving that up any time soon. If he hurt you in the end, you'd deal with the pain because at least you got a bit of relief in the present.

That Friday evening had been one of the best nights of your life, regardless of how mundane or even boring it probably would have seemed to your younger self. You learned a lot about Peter, more than he'd already forced you to know in the weeks leading up to that night, and you answered all his random and silly questions about yourself. You learned that his favorite colors were red and blue, totally un-ironically, and that he'd gotten his abilities the summer between the eighth and ninth grades.

You also learned that Peter was just as stubborn and competitive as you used to be, and something about that knowledge sparked some of the old flame back into you. So, chasing after the fire that used to warm you, you made a deal with him. If he could prove to you that the Avengers were not as bad as you thought they were, then you would willingly do your speech in favor of the superheroes.

"You--you what?" Peter sputtered, laughing so hard he had to clutch his stomach with both hands and gasp for air, "You really cut the hair off of all of your sister's dolls because she beat you at checkers?"

You snorted, a harsh sound that made your nose ache as you laughed along with him, "Yes! She knew how competitive I was, and she took that risk by challenging me. I never lost a game of checkers again after that."

He slipped into another torrent of giggles much to your amusement, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a beautiful smile that made your own chuckling soften as you found yourself mesmerized by the sight of it. Peter Parker was certainly a very breathtaking spectacle to behold, and you had to wonder why he wasn't so much more popular in school. You knew why, everyone could see the relentless torment that Flash Thompson unleashed on him, but it still made no sense to you.

What was there to dislike about Peter? Just days ago you'd been beyond annoyed by him, and weeks before that you'd been entirely uncaring of his existence, but already that all seemed completely nonsensical to you. Now that you'd let him in, given him a chance, it seemed impossible to ever not like him again.

Wheezing breathlessly, Peter chortled, "I can't even judge you. One time, when Ned and I were thirteen, he bet that he could finish a LEGO set before me. He was going to beat me, and I may have accidentally knocked it off the table so he had to start over."

"So," you finally gasped as you stopped laughing, "so, what you're saying is, you're just as stubborn as I am and we're definitely never going to agree on this project?"

His chuckles slowly died out as he nodded, "I guess so."

You knew what he meant to say, and that was the fact that he didn't feel he was being needlessly stubborn in this situation. This wasn't about competition to him. No, this was about him not seeing himself or his colleagues in a negative light; he couldn't fathom the distaste you had for them.

As much as you disagreed, you could understand that. You could understand how he would see the people he worked alongside as good people. It made sense that he would have a different perspective when he was the one out saving civilians from big and small horrors alike, rather than being the one to suffer the consequences of the destruction that happened as a result.

Along with your understanding, you also didn't think that Peter was a bad person. You couldn't possibly imagine him causing harm, intentionally or not, and maybe that was why you said what you did next. Maybe that was why you proposed, "I'll make you a deal. If you can prove to me that the Avengers are not who I think they are, then I'll take your stance for the speech. Give me a reason to speak positively of them, and I will."

Even now, as you made your way toward your locker at school on Monday, you weren't entirely sure what had made you decide to propose such a thing. You were pretty certain that you were setting Peter up for failure. In your eyes, there wasn't much of anything that Peter could say, do, or show you that would change your mind. Nothing would make what had happened to your sister okay or forgivable.

Yet, he clearly did not feel the same way. Peter looked as if he was walking on sunshine that morning as he pranced along beside you, a triumphant grin on his face as he whispered, "I have a plan."

"A plan?"

He grinned wider as you looked at him curiously, "Yes, a plan. To change your mind."

Quirking an eyebrow expectantly, you waited for him to elaborate as you gathered your things from your locker for class. He never did, only continuing to practically vibrate with excitement beside you in silence. "Are you going to tell me what this plan of yours is?" you prodded.

"No." When you looked at him in confusion he continued, "If I tell you what it is, you're not going to have an open mind. You're going to think of all the reasons it won't change your mind, and then it won't."

Suddenly, you were the one chasing after Peter instead of the other way around. All day you found yourself glancing to him suspiciously and following him around much like he had you in all the weeks leading up to your budding friendship, and it was a big change of pace for you. You felt a little pathetic following him like a lost puppy, but you were nosy and wanted to know what his plan was.

No matter how much you pried, though, he didn't budge. In Calculus he ignored your staring and whispers with a far too smug smirk on his face, though you secretly liked the way it looked on him. Who would have guessed that Peter Parker could be arrogant?

In Gym class he teasingly ran faster than you could keep up the moment you asked again, only slowing down once you begrudgingly promised to leave the subject alone. Though he did tell you he wouldn't run faster than you anyways because people would probably get suspicious if he suddenly turned into a track star. He had to play the roll of the un-athletic nerd regardless.

At lunch he didn't sit with you for the first time since he'd started joining you. He'd waved at you from where he sat with his friends, Ned and MJ, but you found yourself leaving the cafeteria rather than joining him. You weren't ready to take that next step yet; being open with Peter was hard enough, and you weren't ready to have to talk to two more people. Still, you tried to pretend it didn't bother you despite the little sinking feeling you felt in your stomach.

He still sat with you in Speech class, which you were relieved by. Ms. Lovell left everyone to work with their partners on their project, warning the class sternly, "You may have until the end of the semester, but don't slack off now. I'm only giving you two other class periods after now to work on this."

Peter quietly joked, "I bet she just forgot to grade our homework from last week."

When the woman sat down at her desk and pulled over a stack of papers, uncapping her favorite red-glitter pen that she always graded with, you both fell into a fit of giggles that you had to work very hard to keep quiet. It only took one glare from the teacher to have you ducking behind your book to hide how red your face turned, both from embarrassment and repressed laughter. You did, however, notice to fleeting expression of shock on her face to see it was you giggling in her class.

Not much work was done during that class, though for you and Peter the work couldn't be started yet. You still hadn't decided on a stance, and until Peter either succeeded with his plan or failed as you expected, a decision wouldn't be made. Instead, you both whispered to each other about whatever random thoughts seemed to pop into your heads in the moment.

"People are staring at me," you acknowledged, glancing around the class timidly at the sight of many students giving you curious stares, "is there something on my face?"

Peter laughed, though he quickly disguised it as a cough, and responded, "No, they're just confused."

Confused, you furrowed your eyebrows and looked at the boy with the warm brown eyes who was grinning at you proudly. "Why?" you asked, shifting uncomfortably. You were used to people giving you strange looks, but these were different. They weren't looking at you as if they were pitying you, or as if they were waiting for you to finally break down and go crazy. No, now they were looking to you with wonder and interest.

He bit the inside of his cheek, a pensive expression blossoming over his face as he thought of how to say whatever he planned to tell you. For a moment you admired the way his ruffled eyebrows furrowed, his lips pouting slightly as he pursed them in concentration. Only when the strange, old fluttering in your heart and your stomach started to erupt did you look away and wrinkle your nose.

You didn't want to admit it, but you knew exactly what that feeling was. It was a feeling you hadn't encountered since before the incident, and it was a feeling you didn't want to experience now. So, you told yourself it was just nerves over having a friend again, and squashed the stupid butterflies down as hard and as fast as you could.

"Well," Peter finally started, eyes wide and a little nervous as if he expected you to potentially be offended by his words, "you haven't exactly... talked to anyone in awhile."

Suddenly, it clicked. People were staring because you weren't the reclusive, closed-off, depressed girl you had been for the past thirteen months. They were staring because you seemed... happy. "Oh." you nodded, the sound feeble and slightly broken, "I guess that makes sense."

People were staring at you because you were the girl with the dead sister who they'd been waiting to witness implode, and suddenly you were talking, and laughing, and smiling. You were talking, laughing, and smiling with Peter Parker, no less. They were looking at you because you seemed fine.

Were you fine? Peter shot you a few concerned glances as you seemed to slip back into the repression you'd been living in for so long, but you gave him a small smile as if to say, "I'm okay." You were okay.

For the first time since she died, now that you really thought about it, you truly felt okay. You felt good. You felt happy. Sure, you were terrified of the little flutters you felt whenever you stared a little too long at Peter's face, and you still felt all the bad things you'd been feeling, but now you had good things to balance them out.

It would have been so easy to slip back into that cycle of beating yourself up again. That little voice in the back of your head was still there, the one that sounded like your sister but so different at the same time, that told you that you didn't deserve to have friends. You didn't deserve to make new friends, or feel those butterflies that meant something more, not when she couldn't do those things ever again.

It would have been easy, but you didn't want that for yourself anymore. If you did that, if you pushed Peter away because of her, then you would be left with all the bad feelings and more of them. You didn't deserve that. So, you took a deep breath, and gave a more genuine smile, and met the stares head on. She would have wanted you to be happy, and you deserved to be happy.

After school, Peter left you with a swimming mind and a million thoughts of what his plan could be. He didn't mention anything, and you wondered how long you would have to wait for whatever it was to come to fruition. What could it be?

You spent the afternoon in the family room, an action that seemed to startle and befuddle your parents who watched you like hawks. Though they didn't say anything, only greeting you casually as if everything were totally normal, you could practically hear the gears turning in their heads. You could imagine their thoughts of, "Who is this alien that looks like our child?"

As confused as they were, eventually the decided to just go with it. Your mom curled up on the sofa with you, and your father fell into his recliner just like old times, and the three of you watched a movie in a comfortable silence. Well, mostly comfortable. Nobody dared to look at or acknowledge the empty middle cushion on the sofa where she'd always sat, or your mother's empty lap that she mindlessly kept brushing her hands over as if waiting for your sister's head to be laying there waiting for her hair to be played with.

Nobody dared, until you did. You weren't entirely sure what compelled you to do it. It seemed as if you were urged to do lots of things you thought you never would these days. But, after half an hour of watching your mother's twitching hands, you laid your head on her lap and closed your eyes to avoid seeing her face.

After a moment, her fingers brushed through your wind-tangled hair and you felt peace. She had always been the one to do this. She had always been the one to burrow her way into your mother's lap, begging to have her scalp massaged or her back traced delicately, and now you understood why. It was comforting for more than one reason.

On one hand, it was just physically relaxing. But, on a more complex level, it gave you a sense of closeness you hadn't realized you'd been longing for. You felt closer with your mother who worked through the tangles in your hair with her fingers, gently scratching your scalp with her manicured fingernails. You felt closer with your sister, too. It felt as if you had a small piece of her to hold onto in that moment, and it was comforting.

By the time the movie ended, you were nearly asleep and the sun had set some time ago. Your mother was the first to break the silence, softly rousing you, "(Y/N), honey, do you want dinner?"

You did, but before you could answer, your phone rang loudly. Glancing at the screen and seeing it was Peter, you nibbled your lip to hide a smile and stated, "Yeah, I'll be down in a minute." They didn't protest as you raced up to your bedroom to answer the call.

"Hello?"

"(Y/N)! Hey!" Peter practically shouted, though his voice cut out with what sounded like a windstorm. "Can you hear me?"

For a moment the audio cut out and you wondered if the call dropped, but then the crackling wind returned and you questioned, "What are you doing?"

Abruptly the sound ended, and he was breathing a little heavily as he responded, "Sorry, I was swinging--"

"Peter! Are you really on your phone while doing that?"

He laughed, "Calm down! My suit, well, Karen, the AI in my suit, is connected to my phone. Completely hands free--I promise."

Your mind flashed back to that night on the roof, the night he'd stopped you, and you remembered how he'd asked a woman named Karen what he was supposed to do. Now it all made sense. You'd been a little curious about who Karen was ever since that night, and now that you knew it was some sort of artificial intelligence that Peter had given such a human name to, you had to laugh.

"Why are you calling me, Spiderman?" you joked.

There was some quiet rustling, as if he were moving around, and he spoke quieter, "I'm on patrol. I just--maybe this is stupid, but I just thought if maybe I could show you the good things I do you'd see that we don't just destroy stuff."

It went silent for a moment before he continued, "I can't exactly take you with me, because that would be stupid, but you could listen."

You hesitated in responding. A part of you wanted to tell him that it was a stupid idea, for multiple reasons, but you decided against it. How would he ever prove anything to you if you didn't give him the chance?

So, you swallowed your protests, and said, "Okay."

"I'll warn you now it's usually pretty boring. A lot of nights I just swing around for awhile and go home without seeing anyone or anything."

That was strangely relieving. You hoped that tonight would be one of those nights; not because you didn't want him to have the chance to really enact his plan, but because you worried for him. What if having you metaphorically there with him distracted him? What if you distracted him and caused him to get hurt?

For awhile, it was a boring night. You and Peter went back and forth, taking turns telling stupid jokes to see who would crack and laugh first, and inevitably he won. He had an endless supply of disgustingly cheesy science puns that left you in stitches every time, even if you'd already seen the joke before on one of his many t-shirts.

You got him to laugh too, though, with all of the dead-pan anti-jokes you may have been secretly googling as you told them. Sometimes the wind would return, alerting you that he was swinging around the city, and every now and then he'd almost forget you were listening as he gave little exclamations of exhilaration in the moment. It was cute, even if the shouts nearly blew out your ear drum every time.

It was a boring night, until it wasn't. One moment the wind was making your phone speaker cut out, and the next it was eerily quiet and you had to pull your phone away to see if the call had dropped. Putting the device on speaker phone, you questioned quietly, "Peter?"

"I'm still here," he whispered, "I see something. Be quiet for a minute."

You listened and waited with baited breathe, probably panicking more than enough for the both of you, as Peter started speaking to Karen. He asked her to start something he called enhanced reconnaissance mode, and you were bursting with suspense and curiosity. What did he see? What was happening?

It felt like an eternity before he acknowledged you again, "Okay, I see a woman cornered by some guys. I think they're trying to... to attack her."

He didn't have to say the word for you to know what he meant, and you felt your stomach explode with anxiety and fear for a woman you couldn't even see. "What are you going to do?" you asked.

"I'm gonna web 'em up, and wait for the police with her." he stated, "I won't be able to talk for a bit, okay?"

And then, everything changed. One moment the wind was back as he swung down to the scene, and suddenly Peter was in full Spiderman mode and almost unrecognizable to you. He was sassier, playful even, despite how serious you knew he really was as he antagonized the bad guys.

The banter didn't last long. You heard the woman scream in terror as a loud ruckus rang through your phone, and Peter groaned. Was he hurt? Did he get hit? There were more thuds and dull smacking sounds, Peter and the men alike grunting and shouting out loudly as she continued to break the atmosphere with her screaming.

You wanted to call out for him, to make sure he was okay, but you were paralyzed in fear. What if you called his name and it distracted him, causing him to really get hurt? But, what if he already was hurt and forgot you were there to potentially call for help?

The fight lasted awhile, before finally the woman's screaming ceased as Peter told her, "Hey, hey! I got them, I got you. It's okay. Everything's okay."

"Peter?" you whispered.

"Everything's okay. It's going to be alright."

He was speaking to you, though he had to phrase it in a way that it sounded as if he were just speaking to her. You didn't believe him that everything was fine, though. It was easy to hear just how winded he was in the way his voice was strained, weaker than before.

Peter was hurt, and you were terrified. His plan was just as stupid as you'd thought it to be. Not because he didn't prove anything to you, because you were happy he'd saved the woman and he had shown you a good thing he did, but because he'd forced you to witness his pain and suffering yet again. You'd had to witness him actually get hurt this time, and the woman's screams still echoed in your ears.

It brought you back to that day. Her screams reminded you of the chaos following the building's collapse, reminded you of how hoarse and sore your throat had been from screaming just like that. Screams of pure horror and panic.

Only after the police finally left, thanking Spiderman for his help, did Peter drop the faux strength and softly whimper, "Shit, that really hurt."

"My window is open."

With that, you hung up and left him to decide what to do by himself.

Your mother quietly knocked at your door, opening it slowly as she poked her head into your room, "Dinner is done if you still want to eat."

Forcing the best smile you could manage, you muttered, "I'm actually not feeling very good. I think I'll just go to bed." You wished you could say you hadn't seen the disappointment written all over her face, clearly let down by you pulling away again, but she nodded nonetheless and shut the door as she trudged away again.

You laid in bed for hours unable to fall asleep, listening to every noise outside with hitched breathe. Was that little knock Peter? Was he at your window? By the time your phone told you it was nearing sunrise, you gave up. He wasn't coming, and you tried to ignore all the horrible thoughts that consumed you.

What if he was so injured he couldn't make it to you? What if he was out on the street somewhere, hurt badly and in need of help? You cursed yourself for hanging up, but you couldn't bring yourself to call him back. It was a strange battle of worry and anger, with anger winning out in the end and stopping you from reaching out.

You were angry at Peter for his stupid plan, causing you to think of all the awful things he seemed to keep at bay during the daytime. You were angry at those men for hurting him. Mostly, you were angry at yourself for being so stubborn. Why were you being prideful and letting the anger stop you from making sure he was alright?

You: are you alive

Peter Parker: yes

Peter Parker: go to sleep

Peter Parker: see you tomorrow?

You: yes. good night.

SERIES TAGLIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton @zendayasfwb @sweet-symphony

[polaroid15]

Febuwhump day 26 - Recovery

Summary: Healing takes time. And that’s okay. 

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/73102269

----

It’s been twelve days.

Twelve excruciating days.

After all this time, Tony’s still not sure of much. He doesn’t know who took them, or where they are. All he knows is that they want answers to questions he can’t give and that Peter is suffering for it.

They bring the kid back three hours after they take him. Two armed guards drag Peter’s limp form in by the armpits and Tony screams and jerks himself against the chains pinning him to the wall in his desperation to reach him. Through his fear and pain, however, he feels a slight release in his chest. An ease, a peace, because again, for today, Peter is still alive.

“Have you changed your mind?” one of the guards asks. His voice is deep and mechanical, his identity concealed by a thick metal mask.

And it kills him. He’s seconds from breaking.

He wants it to be over.

For Peter to be safe.

But if he tells them what they want to know, thousands of people will die.

“No.” It’s nearly impossible to verbalize.

“Very well.”

And they leave.

Peter is still where he lays on the floor, face down and bleeding. Tony bites back a sob as he takes in the kid’s worsening state. He’s thinner than he had been, his metabolism no match for the scarcity of their food and covered from head to toe in lacerations. There’s thick bruising on his wrists and ankles, on his neck. Electric burns on his arms and dozens of injuries that Tony can’t see through the kid’s clothes but knows nonetheless that are there.

“P-Peter. Bud. Can you hear me?”

His fearful voice carries, splinters, and is met with silence. He pulls harder against the chains holding him in place, wanting nothing more than to reach Peter’s side. “Peter. Wake up kiddo. Let me know that you’re okay.”

Peter shifts, groans, sobs. It’s hard to see through the darkness of their cell but when Peter’s eyes open they’re distant and confused, and Tony knows that they drugged him again.

To keep the brat docile, they had told him on the first day after Peter had fought against them. He’ll learn his lesson soon enough.

“That’s- that’s it bud. Good. Come back to me.”

Peter sucks in a breath, tries to move and struggles. Every inch brings a fresh wave of pain. Tony watches him with a broken heart, turning his hands into fists against their restraints. “C’mere bud.”

Finally, Peter looks up at him. It takes him nearly thirty seconds to cement the eye contact and ten more to recognize who Tony is. When it clicks the boy gives him a broken half smile, shoulders relaxing. “T’ny.”

“You gotta come to me kiddo. I can’t come to you, okay?”

“M’kay.” The boy crawls forward, whimpering low in his throat but eventually making it to Tony’s side. With the little slack the chains provide Tony is able to pull Peter against his body, hugging his frail frame against his chest. If it hurts, Peter doesn’t say, and opts to relax more fully against Tony’s side.

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispers into Peter’s hair. The kid mumbles something unintelligible in response, eyes closing as the drugs persist in his system. Tony shudders against the hot flush of a fever on the kid’s skin, of the ribs he can feel through his shirt.

He’s losing him.

They’re running out of time.

It’s a desperate, hopeless feeling.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, voice cracking.

Then, he prays.

----

Two days later and Tony sees sunlight. He jerks awake at loud, jarring noise. There’s a gaping hole in their prison, spilling in fresh air and blue sky. Tony winces at the bright light, feeling dizzy at the sudden development. He curls around Peter who is once again tucked into his chest, shivering and mumbling in his sleep in an attempt to shield him from the dust and debris.

At the mouth of the hole appears Rhodey and Steve.

He hopes he isn’t dreaming.

They run towards him, mouthing things he can’t understand.

Peter doesn’t stir.

“Help him,” he murmurs.

Then he falls back into darkness.

----

Tony wakes up confused and alone, hooked up to beeping machines and blinded by sterile white walls.

He tries to sit up, is stopped by Rhodey, searches the man’s eyes and fails to curb his mounting panic.

“Where’s Peter? Where is- Where is he?”

They clasp hands. Rhodey tells him that Peter is fine, that he’s in surgery, that they’ll bring him to Tony as soon as they're finished.

It’s not enough. Tony needs to see him now.

He doesn’t stop fighting until something cool enters his bloodstream and he falls back against the pillows, the room darkening at its edges.

Rhodey never lets go.

----

The next time awareness comes back to him, the first thing Tony sees is Peter.

Alive, safe, Peter.

The kid is lying on a bed identical to his own across the room. He’s small and pale against the sheets, wrapped in casts and bandages and monitored by every machine you could think of. His eyes are closed but his chest is rising and falling in a comforting, even pattern.

“Peter?”

Of course, Peter remains asleep. It brings back dark memories of their time in captivity and Tony is suddenly overcome with the need to be by the boy’s side, to make sure he’s really okay. That this isn’t just all in his head.

Ignoring the way his own machines beep in protest, Tony clumsily detaches himself from them, and then, from his bed all together. His legs are weak but support him, his goal overpowering his body’s weakness. He reaches the edge of Peter’s bed in a couple steps and collapses against it, shaky and weak.

“Peter?”

The monitors pick up, and seconds later, dark brown eyes are blinking up at him. “Tony?” he slurs.

“Oh thank god.”

Before he can think it through, he’s hugging the kid. Peter completes the embrace, his limbs weak but sure.

They’re both crying.

“You’re okay,” Tony says, perhaps more for his own reassurance, and he hears Peter laugh wetly in his ear.

“You are too.”

He isn’t sure how long they stay like that. Only that after a while, Peter sags against Tony’s side. Noticing, Tony shifts himself out of their hug. “Move over,” he instructs.

Slowly, Peter does, and Tony fits himself in the available space. Peter latches onto him. “I was scared we’d never get out of there,” he whispers, so faintly that Tony barely catches it.

“We did though,” Tony tries to comfort. “Rhodey and Steve saved the day.”

“I thought I was going to die.”

Tony is silent, his head spinning. Eventually he manages to choke out, “I’m so sorry, Pete. This is all my fault.”

This gives Peter more strength. He lifts himself up on his elbow, then looks dizzy for doing so. “What?” he says. “No it’s not-”

“I wouldn’t tell them what they wanted.”

“Obviously. We know what would’ve happened if you did.”

“You got hurt because of it.”

“You got hurt too.”

Tony sighs and closes his eyes when they sting. He feels Peter collapse back against the mattress beside him.

“We’re out,” Peter continues sleepily. “That’s all that matters.”

And Tony is too weak to argue.

----

Three days later and Tony is free to roam as he pleases, his injuries no longer keeping him bedridden. Despite the freedom he doesn’t leave their room, staying in a chair beside Peter’s bed. The kid sleeps, mostly. He mumbles unconsciously and flinches at loud noises. He sweats and cries.

And Tony is there for it all.

----

“I’m so bored,” Peter grumbles, arms crossed and pouting. “I hate staying in bed all day.”

“Remember when you almost died?” Tony says.

Peter sighs, rolling his head back against his pillow. He looks considerably better now, with colour in his cheeks and a majority of his minor wounds closed up. But he still has a cast on his leg, his arm in a sling, and twenty precarious stitches in his side.

“You’ll be out of bed soon enough,” Tony promises.

“Whatever you say.”

----

Ned and MJ visit. They play video games and board games and don’t leave until it’s dark. When they do, Tony returns. Peter is still against the bed, looking more alone than Tony has ever seen him.

“Are you okay?”

Peter jumps and swipes at his face. “Oh- Tony. Sorry. Yeah. Yeah I’m okay.”

And Tony is stupid enough to believe him.

----

“Help!”

Tony jackknifes awake, heart thundering in his chest. He scrambles in darkness for a moment before flicking on the lamp, finding Peter twisted up in his sheets, kicking and clawing and fighting.

“Damn it.”

He drops to his knees beside the bed, gently nudging the boy into wakefulness. It doesn’t take long before Peter’s eyes fly open, wide and deep with fear. He continues to fight and doesn’t stop until Tony forces his face to look at him.

“T-Tony?”

And all he can do it nod, his throat too tight to form words.

Peter stares at him like he’s far away. He chokes on his next breath.

“Peter?”

Peter shudders and raises a hand to clutch at his throat.

“What’s wrong buddy?”

But he already knows. Has seen it in himself for years.

“Can’t breathe,” Peter gasps.

Tony sits on the edge of Peter’s bed and rubs his back, barely able to keep his own panic at bay. He holds Peter’s hand over his chest and tells him to concentrate on the beats. Teaches him how to breathe.

And he does.

In reality that attack only lasts for a couple of minutes, but it seems to stretch like hours. When the worst of it passes Peter falls back into the pillows, exhausted, eyes fluttering. “Thanks,” he says. Then, “sorry.”

“Don’t apologize Pete. I should be the one saying sorry-”

“No,” Peter says. He pats Tony’s leg. “No sorrys. For either of us.”

And Tony would like to think it’s possible.

He stays awake long after Peter drifts off again.

----

Another two days, and Peter is discharged from medbay. He’s excited but lacking his usual spark. He spends the day with his friends and comes back exhausted. He sleeps on the coach and wakes up disoriented. They eat dinner, though Peter barely touches his food, and they spend the rest of the night in the lab.

“How was your first day as a free man?” Tony asks.

“Good.”

“What’d you do?”

“Went to the arcade with Ned and MJ.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Yeah. Yeah it was.”

The tinker in relative silence. He notices Peter grab at his arm periodically, as if to stop an ache.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Well, I don’t really believe that, so how about telling me the truth?”

Peter throws down his tools. They clang against the table and Peter flinches back from the sound. Tony stands, worried, and Peter shrinks into himself.

“Peter-”

“Stop. Just stop, okay? I’m fine.”

He’s crying.

Tony takes one cautious step forward, then two. When Peter doesn’t say anything he closes the distance in its completion and wraps his arms around the boy’s shaking shoulders.

“Talk to me,” he says.

Peter sniffles, doesn’t push him away. “I’m sore and achy. I can’t sleep. I never feel like eating. I’m scared all the time-” he trails off, voice quieting. “I’m just so scared.”

He’s not sure if there’s words somewhere out in the universe that Peter needs to hear. If there are, it’s impossible to know them. He tightens the hug and rests his chin on the top of Peter’s head. “It’s okay to be scared. You’re allowed to be. You know that right?”

“I’m supposed to be strong. A superhero.”

“You are. You are, Peter.”

“But-”

“No buts,” Tony interjects. “Listen close, okay? Cause I don’t like to get all mushy gushy very often. You, Peter Parker, are a hero through and through. You’re the bravest, smartest, kindest kid I’ve ever met. You’ve gone through some tough stuff in your life. And you’ve always come out the otherside. This is no different, even if it feels like it right now. Okay?”

Peter clutches onto his arm like a lifeline.

“It’s okay to be scared, Pete. It means you're human like the rest of us.”

Peter nods vigorously against him. “Th-thank you.”

“I’m always here. Whatever you need.”

Forever and always.

----

It’s been a month and Peter is nearly back to his old self. He’s patrolling again, he finishes dinner and smiles and laughs when they clean up afterwards. Nightmares become less frequent. He aces his tests.

Tony reflects on this as he looks at the kid across the room. He’s scribbling away equations in a coil-bound notebook, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. A soft smile turns his mouth up, the warmth of pride leaking through his chest.

“Hey Pete?”

Peter looks up, his pencil drooping in his grip. “Yeah Tony?”

Don’t be like your father. Break the cycle.

“I’m proud of you, kid. Just wanted you to know that.”

Peter blushes. He averts his gaze, mouth open in lost words. “Oh. Uh, thanks Tony.”

“I mean it. You’ve come a long way.”

When Peter reconnects their eyes, Tony feels the depth of the boy’s understanding. He had seen it in the cell, in their shared hospital room.

“Thanks,” Peter repeats, and this time, he sounds sure. He smiles. It’s wide, genuine, reflecting his youth.

It looks like healing.

It is healing.

“Now get back to work.”

“Aye aye.”

Peter writes down more equations, then pauses. “Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you too.”

The sentiment freezes the air in his chest. He hardly knows how to compartmentalize the emotion. It processes slow as molasses. Eventually, he matches Peter’s smile. “Thanks kiddo.”

Yep, it’s healing.

And they’re family, through and through.

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Illicit affairs- Chapter 8

summary: imagine the met gala but ten times better and in stark tower, that’s it. felicia doesn’t have very good manners and sneaks away with y/n but peter and his friends are on the lookout. 

Listen to: Do I wanna know -Arctic Monkeys & bad idea- girl in red

word count: 12k

(author’s notes at the end now)

warnings: s m u t. 

series masterlist

(today we change and use a photo of Felicia, although it’s not too accurate in my head)

If there was someone who had an incredible hidden talent, it was MJ. You knew she liked to draw since you first met her, but as time passed you realized that a side effect of her hobby, even if she didn’t like it as much, was that she could do a mind-blowing make-up look without even trying. You had realized this one Halloween that you had spent with Peter and his friends, you had asked her where she had gone to do that makeup-look with glitter tears streaming down her cheeks but she simply shrugged, saying that she had used some of her art supplies and done it herself. After that it was more common than not that MJ would come to do your make-up to every important event that you had to attend, she had even done Pepper’s makeup and soon it became like a side job for her too.

She had such ability with the brushes, knew exactly which colors could match your skin and outfit that you almost became dependent on her, feeling a bit more insecure when you had to do your make-up or even hire someone different than MJ but tonight she was there.  

“Do you want me to do the wing?” you asked MJ, glancing at her and searching what was wrong but she simply huffed.

“Shut up, I’m an artist” she grumbled under her breath as she shook her hand a bit and dived right into your eye.

“You are so giddy today” you muttered, which earned you a glare from MJ.

“Well, I’ve never been to a Gala myself or done the make-up for the hostess of the Gala,” she said as she finished one eye and then adjusted her dress.

As always, you were in awe of how MJ looked. Her flawless black skin matched perfectly with the custom silk lame gown that she had decided to wear for the night, it was a halter top but with a nice cut on her middle part that showed a little bit of skin and a long skirt that almost touched the floor. With her tall slender body and perfect tone muscles, she looked like a supermodel.

“No, my dad and pepper are the hosts. I’m just here for the small talk with people they don’t want to talk to and to drink champagne” you answer back as she finished the wing on the other one and you finally managed to open your eyes and see yourself in the mirror.

She had done an exceptional job as always, only mascara missing to finish the look but she had done a great job with the nude eyeshadow with a dramatic wing, she had even added a bit of gold glitter surrounding your eyes so it could match the gold earrings that you decided to wear for the night. You walked towards the mirror and fixed the dress that you had decided to wear. It was a cream Jacquemus backless dress with a slit on the side of your leg, while this time you had decided to wear the charm that held your suit in a classic bracelet usually, you wouldn’t bother that much on dresses on how you looked for these types of events given that you disliked them but tonight was different.  

“That makes you the hostess, small talk with people that you don’t like” MJ answer back as she put a bit of blush on her skin and then walked over to you, leaning against your mirror.

“I’ll try to avoid it, especially when Felicia arrives” you answered with a shrug and started to apply your mascara, but not before you notice how MJ began to play with her hands uncomfortably.

You knew it was because you brought up Felicia but, in all honesty, you were more than elated that she had agreed to come.

The last weeks or so had been a rollercoaster. Although you somehow had assured your feelings for the other, you weren’t spending that much time together. Part of it was that you were ordered to stay in bed for a few days, knowing that your injuries were bad and needed time to recover, it wasn’t like Felicia wanted to simply burst on Stark Tower or ask you to move; she would sneak some nights sneak in to see how you were doing before you were officially discharged by Bruce. But then, when you were able to go to her apartment, she would cancel a bit too often for you, arguing that a girl needs to pay the bills (which you assumed was a way to say that she was going to do some work that you didn’t like). 

So, you let her be.

Though, the days you did spend together, she was as loving as she had ever been with you. She would cook for you all the healthy foods that she hated but she would eat them with you, even your annoying quinoa salad and green smoothies, which you appreciated. You would spend time watching movies and listening to music together, curating playlists depending on a situation, and talk until early morning hours. She would kiss you too, sweetly and carefully, Felicia even freaked out when you complain after a kiss got a little bit too heated a few days after you had been ‘discharged’; after that she had tried, really hard, to keep the kisses to a PG-rating (much to her dismay).

But then this week had come and she had become a kind of a nervous wreck thinking about the Gala, which for you seemed so out of character for her. She would ask for the program of the night again, and again and who would be there, trying to know how to dress and where everything was. You attributed her behavior to the fact that she was -probably- going to meet Tony and Pepper, and you were coming out to the circle of people you would be surrounded by. Part of her was relieved when she heard that the other Avengers weren’t going to make it to the Gala and you thought it was sweet, she was nervous about how serious you had become.

To ease her nerves, you had insisted to her to go shopping together for a dress or told her to go earlier that day so she could know where everything was, if she was too worried about it, even gave suggested if she would like to come to dinner first with Tony and Pepper so she wouldn’t be too freaked out the day of the Gala. But she had refused, especially regarding the dress; saying that since she was older than you (only two years), therefore the sugar mommy feeling was a little bit off.

You had blushed at her statement but decided to let her be, knowing it was the best thing you could do for Felicia.

“y/n?”

Peter’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you turned around to watch him, and it felt like you had almost stopped breathing for a second.

You had seen Peter in a suit a couple of times before but never like this. He seemed taller and also leaner, the sharp suit he was wearing fitted him perfectly, his messy curls were settled down with a little bit of hair gel that pulled them back and to the side but you could tell that the curls would be let loose sooner rather than later. He had a small watch on his wrist, a gift from you and Tony, it had an engraved message “with great power, comes great responsibility” which honored his Uncle Ben. Peter didn’t use it often but when he did, it caused your heart to squeeze on your chest.

And Peter was mesmerized too. Your hair had been pulled down behind your ears, it was sleek and it looked perfectly styled. He could see the blush on your cheeks, the reflection of the glitter on your eyes, and he was, as always, so captivated by how your eyes seemed like constellations accompanied with your long lashes that he felt like he had zoned out. Plus, the dress fitted your body perfectly. It was showing more skin than you usually showed with a small side-boob showing thanks to the asymmetric form of it along with your exposed back. He felt his mouth drying as you turned around shyly towards him, but for him, you looked breathtaking.

“Are you ready?” Peter asked, stammering a bit as he looked away from you towards MJ who was giving him a look. “Tony and Pepper are waiting downstairs for you,” he said silently before looking at you for a second and then at the floor.

MJ snickered a bit before she took her purse and made her way to the door. “Don’t you look dapping” MJ said as she patted Peter on his shoulder and walked out of your room, you guessed she was already looking for Harley.

You both stayed silent for a moment, as you gazed at the other, you blinking owlishly while Peter drilled you with his eyes. Although you weren’t saying anything, you knew what he was thinking about: last time you were dressed this nicely, it had been the last night before you had run away. You would’ve like to avoid the memories, but it seemed inevitable to connect this moment to your last; even more knowing that although it seemed like everything had changed, your heart was still beating for Peter and his was beating for you.

“You look beautiful,” Peter whispered as you walked towards him, he couldn’t even stop himself, and the two of you flushed at his comment.

“Tha-thanks, MJ did the makeup because I have no idea,” you spoke coyly as you ordered HAPPY to turn off the lights and you and Peter walked outside the room, the door closing behind you.

You tried to shake it off, the obvious nervousness that you felt around Peter but it didn’t seem to work as he offered you his arm, so you could hold onto it as you always did.

“Well, she did a great job, you look amazing” Peter said honestly as he glanced at you while you walked towards the elevator. “She’s a lucky girl.”

It had taken all his willpower to actually say those words but he was being truthful, no matter how much it could pain him because, as he had realized the last few days, it only mattered to him that you were safe and happy. The bad thing was, that he didn’t believe you would be safe with Felicia.

For you, the comment hit a nerve. Not only because you knew how Peter felt about Felicia, and you dislike that it might have hurt him to see you with her but also because Felicia had been MIA since early in the morning. You had texted her a good morning text, asking her if she needed anything but she had declined the offer and simply stating that she would see you tonight.

Hours had passed and there was no sign that Felicia was actually coming but you deeply hope she would.

“Yeah…” you muttered with a long sigh, but you quickly changed the topic as the elevator’s doors opened. “I’m surprised you decided to bring Flash as your date.”

“What!?”

“See, MJ is with Harley and Betty with Ned,” you explained to him while you fixed your hair and watch Peter’s bug-eyed expression at your comment “Which leaves you with Flash.”

“That’s not funny.” Peter quickly answered with a glare.

“Oh, because he’s a guy?” you chuckled and placed your hands over your chest, raising an eyebrow and waiting for his answer.

“No!” Peter protested, a little bit offended at your question and then the doors to the elevator opened. “It’s because he’s Flash!”

You both laughed as you exited the elevator and walked towards where the Gala was through a small hallway that Pepper had arranged for only you two enter the building. 

The Gala had become an emblematic even for the city, Pepper had come up with it after you had moved from LA and Tony had made the respective and adequate changes to Stark Industries. It was an annual fundraising gala for the benefit of technological advances and charities and it always happened at Stark Tower.

The whole first and second floor of the building were remodeled to fit the event. On the first floor, you would find the red carpet and exhibitions of the work done by the different companies, known scientists, and young people who had the opportunity to present their ambitious ideas and work. It was also a social event, celebrities, journalists, CEO’s and more people would be invited as well. Then, the second floor was where the dinner and the after-party would usually take place. 

It wasn’t a wild evening, I mean although Tony would make it as wild as he wanted, it always went nicely and calmed. Even some  Avengers would make surprise appearances once in a while, mostly Nat, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Bruce; Thor had been technically banned after he had too much to drink once. This drew huge media attention for the projects which were extremely important for the fundraiser that took place at the event and so, it had become also somehow the Met Gala of the science community. 

It was also the only time that paparazzi would take your photos willingly, although you hated it.

Today was no different, you had to pose with Tony and Pepper on the red carpet that was prepared at the main entrance to the event. The commotion of flashing lights and excited reporters was almost something that you couldn’t get used to after so many years, and although you would normally be complaining to Pepper as Tony did sometimes when he would get bored; Peter would usually woosh in and take photos with you, so paparazzi wouldn’t use the photos with him because magazines didn’t think much of Peter back then, so it was a nice way to ruin some shots. But today was different, Peter was now known to be one of the Star Interns of Tony and he was called on by a reporter, and you were ushered off to take more photos and then by Tony who was excited to see Pepper’s speech.

And as a sea of people separated you and Peter, you decided to focus on Pepper’s speech and Felicia’s whereabouts.

But she was nowhere to be found, disappointed you quickly blended into the crowd and began to do your work. You started saying ‘hi’ and ‘welcoming’ the various people that were invited from celebrities to renowned scientists, you talk to a journalist giving them small interviews and also watch almost every one of the projects from the young students who were allowing presenting that year.

You even talked to people you didn’t like.  

You were already saying goodbye to an important human rights lawyer, that was a role model to you since you had started to think about studying law and had been asking her some questions when you heard his taut voice.

“Lovely to see you again Miss Stark, heard you got shot?”

You turned to see Norman Osborn, giving you a tight smile while Harry was behind him winking his eyes and quickly nudging to his dad and rolling his eyes. You knew you weren’t dear on Norman Osborn’s heart, especially when it came to your dad, and you ever wondered why Pepper insisted on inviting him and why he even insisted on coming to the event of someone he hated that much.

But you knew it all came back to business.

Although now, that you knew for a fact -thanks to Felicia and the events lately- that Norman had willingly given Kingpin the formula to his poisonous serum and that Harry had no idea about it; you were even more snarky and irritated to see his face than before.

“Yes, I’m fine now.” You stated curtly as you glanced at Harry for one second, you quickly took a swig of your drink. Mentally begging for this interaction to be over.

“Of course, you are dear,” He snapped with a glare. “With your father’s technology, you wouldn’t respect the hand of destiny. Such a waste of time and resources to play hero” he said as he rolled his eyes.

You gripped your drink a bit tighter and you felt like a vein on your neck had just popped off your neck. It was predictable from your past encounters with Norman Osborn that he would say something like that but as he had so seriously stated that he thought saving your life or being an Avenger was a waste? Was he being fucking serious?

Jerk.

“Careful Norman, your jealousy is showing,” you smirked as you glanced at him uninterested. “Now kindly fuck off”

Norman gapped at your answer, completely blown away that you had actually said that since you usually had been quiet about his usual remarks. His face was red with bulging eyes as the cords of his neck became rigid, completely astound and angry at your comment. You were thankful that you weren’t staying silent anymore as, in a blink of an eye, Norman spun on his heels and walked away from you, leaving you with Harry.

“Always a pleasure!” you yelled at him as he walked away, you couldn’t help the tugging on the sides of your lips and then your attention turned to Harry, who was chuckling. “Your father’s lovely”

Harry looked as good as always and sometimes you wondered how on earth someone could look like that. His sharp jaw and sleek black hair with his almond eyes made him look like a model, a smirk worth a thousand dollars and his chiseled cheekbones made girl’s and boy’s knees weak. Even when he looked as put together as he was at the moment, you could still see a mischievous gleam in his eyes, you guessed the bad boy look couldn’t fade away easily and you couldn’t help to think about the possible rumors on the tabloid if they saw you dancing with him at the party.

“Don’t tell me about it,” Harry stated as he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your cheek, slowly and seductively.  “It’s nice to see you again, y/n”

He was always extremely smooth and charming, and always managed to get your heart beating someway although you knew that you weren’t really interested, it was just this aura about him.

“It’s good to see you too, H.” you answered back as you took another sip of your drink while he offered to cheer, you did the same.

As he finished taking a sip of his drink, he walked closer to you. “I’ve missed you in these events, it’s …”

“Draining?”

Harry chuckled, mostly for himself as he often did. “I was going to say annoying as fuck but yeah, that works too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment because it was true if you would like to summarize the feelings for these kinds of events -especially for your role on them and how the media would portray it-, they were annoying as fuck. But honestly, the science part and the charity part were your favorite thing in the world.

You knew that Harry felt the same way as you, the pressure to be the golden child and do everything right, but there was where Harry’s charm laid. Although he could be all of those things because he had everything in his favor, he disliked his father and the pressure so much that he rebelled against it.

And now, it had become part of him to be the bad boy.

So, it didn’t surprise you what he said next.

He leaned over to you, whispering directly on your ear and you couldn’t avoid but to feel a shiver running on your back as he whispered on your ear. “You know, you in that dress is making me think of champagne, strawberries, a bed, and us playing strip poker”

You gave a step back at him, a bit surprised by how confident his statement was, your eyes widened slightly and your cheeks flushed before you shook your head, ready to play it off casually.

But then, you heard Felicia’s characteristic silvery voice behind you.

“Get in line pretty boy,” Felicia stated, her fingernails trailing your back as she defensively wrapped her arm around your waist, glaring a bit at Harry, who rapidly blinked as if he was trying to understand the nature of your relationship with Felicia but it didn’t take him long. “Stark,” Felicia said with a smoky voice.

If you were being truthful, you were always a bit nervous around Felicia, a bit too in awe with her beauty and essence. Sometimes you were worried about how she could suck you in so easily with just a pout but then moments like this reminded you why.

Felicia’s outfit left you breathless, although you recognized it was from Versace and wondered where she had gotten it, you couldn’t avoid feeling tingles through your body. Felicia stunned with the silky lace-trimmed camisole-like minidress she was wearing, she had a dramatic smokey eye with a mate-nude lipstick that suited her perfectly, and to your surprise, she had decided to let her silver hair down and she fixed it in an almost Barbarella-like style but less dramatic that made her look like she belonged to a runway.

You could feel the burning heat on your body.

“Thought you would never come”, you whispered with a smile and before she could even respond, you pressed your lips against hers.

It was a firm but soft kiss, as if you were showing her off finally and claiming Felicia yours, as she had done with you so many times before. But now, you both were as purposeful as you could’ve been, the kiss was so sweet and it seemed like just kissing her that way, you would get a toothache. When you finally pulled apart with a shy smile while Felicia simply smirked, your foreheads pressed together, you felt like you were the only people in the world.

And then Harry spoke.

“That’s so hot” he whispered, you figured it was mostly to himself as he looked at you two wide-eyed and surprised about it.

You could see Felicia rolling her eyes in irritation as you laced your hands together but as soon as she turned around to Harry, she was displaying the cat-like grin that characterized her.

“Would you like to join us?” Felicia purred as she got a little closer to Harry, who seemed like he was about to pass out with Felicia’s words.

“Felicia!”

Peter shook his head and walked away, not wanting to listen to the end of that conversation, knowing that it would just make him break the cup of champagne that he had been holding tightly as he listened to Harry and you even before Felicia arrived. His jaw was still twitching when he walked up to Ned and Betty, whose main spot was the exhibitions that were presented, while Flash would guard the entrance and MJ with Harley would be staying on the drinking station (per Harley’s request) and Peter would be on the dance floor where most of the action would be happening.

But even with a whole plan laid out, Felicia had still managed to fool them.

“Guys she’s here” he whispered through the com as he saw all of his friends snap their gazes as they tried to look for Felicia and you, in the middle of the main floor, talking with Harry.

“How!?” Flash cried through the com. “I’ve been patrolling this entrance all night, what the hell?”

“She’s sneaky, I already told you!” Peter grumbled under his breath, loud enough for a couple of rich old people to stare at him bug-eyed, which he simply answered with an awkward smile and made his way towards where Ned and Betty were.

“What are we going to do now?” Harley asked, Peter could already tell that Harley was tensing up.

For a genius, he wasn’t good at handling his emotions under pressure.

“Just keep an eye on her.” Peter glowered as he finally arrived at where Ned was, trying to find some consolation or ideas that came from Ned who always had some positive thing to say or a good idea to add.

But Ned’s eyes were focused on something behind Peter and the wince he did, as well as Betty, tipped Peter that he should turn around.

“That’s not hard, I think that she just stepped on Harry’s Osborn foot and made him cry” Ned mused as he took a sip from his drink.

Peter watched as you dragged Felicia away from Harry, giving him an apologetic look before you were walking towards the drinking area, where Harley and MJ were.

“Harley, MJ she’s coming your way” Peter whispered, hoping that they wouldn’t be too awkward that you would realize the plan.

Not that there was any serious plan, Peter still wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He wasn’t sure what Felicia would do or if she would even do something, but he knew that she wasn’t good news, he just could feel it in his bones and hoped that at the end of the day, you wouldn’t need to find out if something happened.

He just wanted to keep you safe.

Harley turned around with MJ just in time and he gave a small smile to Felicia and you, who were walking hand-in-hand together. You were bickering a bit because of her reaction to Harry’s comment and how she had stomped on his foot with her sharp heel and she hadn’t even said ‘sorry’ arguing why she would say that to someone that sexualized you. So, you were thankful when your eyes caught MJ and Harley on the drinking station, hoping it could distract Felicia from going back and scratching Harry’s eyes.

“I know you’ve met before but this is Felicia,” you said as Felicia put on a new smile and offered her hand to Harley and MJ. “I wanted you to meet her, officially”

Harley and MJ shook Felicia’s hand cheerily, but you could feel how Harley and MJ tensed up. You could feel their anxiousness dripping from Harley’s eyes and you knew that it wasn’t normal. Harley, for a scrawny boy like him, was a bit too smug, too smooth, too relaxed for him to be acting this way.

“It’s so nice to meet y/n friends,” Felicia said playfully as she wrapped an arm around your waist and smirked up to Harley and MJ, who barely gave her a genuine smile.

“Yeah, sa-same” Harley let out, words stumbling against one another as they left their mouths.

MJ simply nodded and added a small ‘for sure’ with a honeyed voice that you knew didn’t quite fit MJ and something felt off. You frowned at their interaction, surprised mostly by how stiff they were. Did they have a problem with Felicia? You knew that Harley was certain about Felicia’s identity, not that you had discussed it but he wasn’t dumb and it made you wonder if he was feeling the same thing that Peter had told you about.

But you brushed it off, knowing that it wouldn’t be a good thing to keep Felicia there.

“I’m going to take you dancing” you offered to Felicia who gave you a gleaming smile, her cheeks tainted by a cloud of small pink dust, and you quickly dragged her off from your friends.

Your mind started whirling, wondering what was wrong with Harley and MJ? Harley had always been nothing but supportive regarding your relationship with Felicia, hell he was supportive of everything you did. MJ too, she never judged but you’d seen her acting strange since the start of the day.

“What’s wrong?” Felicia said a little bit unsettled as you turn to look at her.

But you simply shook your head, muttering a small ��nothing’ but you couldn’t help yourself and you looked back at your friends, noticing them whispering something to themselves and you wished that you could put your suit right there and then to listen to their thoughts but knowing it was unreasonable, you decided to turn around, just in time to bump into Tony and Pepper.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your heels barely squeaking in the hallway as the two heads snapped in your directions. The first being Tony’s and the second being Peppers, who seemed to be discussing something together but the conversation immediately ended when they saw you.

“Oh,” you muttered as Tony and Pepper’s gaze down to see you, hand in hand with Felicia.

“Oh?” Tony answered back as he curved his eyebrows while he watched Felicia for a second and then his gaze went to you.

It wasn’t like you brought Felicia by surprise, you had been told weeks ago that she could come. Either way, this was a newfound territory, Peter seemed to be the only possible person you would introduce to your parents in that manner and it didn’t even count because they had known him before. Charlie was a no-go from the start, knowing deep down that you wanted to keep that friendship or relationship for yourself since you both knew it wouldn’t go pass that. But then Felicia seemed to be someone where you could, maybe, go to the next step.

“Well, y/n aren’t you going to introduce us?” Pepper said, her startled look brushing off and giving entrance to the characteristic warm smile she always wore.

Before you could even answer, Felicia’s charm was on.

“It’s so lovely to meet you Mrs. And Mr. Stark”, she smiled brightly at Pepper as she shook her hand and give her two kisses on her cheek, slightly making her voice higher than what it usually was.

“Lovely to meet you too, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” Pepper said, completely charmed by Felicia’s attitude and she quickly nudged Tony with her elbow on his ribs so he could say ‘hi’ as well, for some reason he had to stare at Felicia as if he was trying to figure out something.

You hoped it was just a parental instinct.

“We are so glad you are here; we’ve been trying to meet you but missy here was keeping you under wraps.” Tony offered Felicia his hand and she shook it firmly, with a bright smile but with the same intense gaze that Tony had in his eyes.

You chuckled at Tony’s comment, hoping it would dissipate any kind of suspicion, not that it seemed to be very successful. Pepper followed your lead and so did Tony and Felicia.

“Can’t imagine why” Felicia muttered between laughs and you feel your cheeks flushing at her comment, giving her a warning look, which she just shrugged off by kissing you on the cheek.

It made you smile.

“Okay, we are going to dance so, I’ll let you be” you announced as you realized that Tony and Pepper were still staring, quickly dragging her to the dance floor.

It wasn’t a huge dance floor, tables were surrounding the small space that was farther from the reception where everyone was and there was a small stage set up in front of you, at the moment there was just a talented pianist taking the lead. A few people were dancing, much of them were way older than you and the ones that were old enough to care about what you were doing (especially journalist) as they saw you entering the dance floor, widened their eyes.

You quickly offered Felicia your hand and she reached out, accepting your hand before you were pulling her out onto the dance floor. You caught a few people watching you but you didn’t care, you quickly placed your hands-on Felicia’s shoulder and she placed her cold hands against the skin that showed from your torso and hips. You began to sway together to the soft music playing from the piano.

“You think they notice?” Felicia asked you softly, pulling you a bit closer.

“Not at all” you lied, knowing that there might’ve been something that Tony was suspicious of, but you didn’t want to scare Felicia.

“Your dad seemed a little bit weird out,” she continued. “But I couldn’t tell if it’s because I’m a girl or because he recognized me”

“He didn’t” you assured her looking at her firmly, but you melted as she smirked at you, her eyes gleaming as you played with a strand of her hair. “Okay, but the silver hair doesn’t help”

Felicia gasped jokingly, causing you to chuckle a bit.

“Hey” Felicia complained, as she pulled you a bit closer while biting her lip. “You love the silver hair and more when it’s down”

Which was true.

“My bad” you answered with a fond smile, pressing your forehead against hers.

You kept swaying to the music, bodies pressed together as Felicia held you and guided you to the music. It felt like you were the only two people in the room, you mostly tried to keep your eyes closed, not wanting to disturb your daydream, although it was hard with the whispers of some surprised observers as they arrived on the dance floor and saw you dancing with a girl. Nonetheless, you stayed focused on Felicia’s touch on your skin, on the music that was overflowing your senses, and to the smell of cotton candy.

The only thing that woke you up from the trance you were in was Felicia’s fidgeting, you finally opened her eyes on the third time she had removed her hands from your body for about ten seconds.

“What’s wrong?” you asked her with a frown, to see Felicia’s lips pinched into a fine line.

“Everyone’s watching”

You turned around and it was true, it seemed like the majority of the party were whispering from the tables and looking into the dance floor, even Tony and Pepper seemed a bit stunned by how close you were with Felicia. You could feel Felicia’s shoulders tensing up as she watched everyone, you knew this wasn’t part of the deal when Felicia had agreed to come with you.  

“Hey, it’s okay. Let’s go and eat something” you muttered as you carefully place your hand on her jaw and pulled her gaze back to yours.

Felicia shook her head and gave a step back, as she swallowed hard and then look down. It seemed as if the hairs on the nape of her neck had standup and although you could seem a gleam of regret, she was visibly done.

“Do you mind if I go to the bathroom really quick?” she asked, with a small voice and not looking at you.

You couldn’t hide your disappointment but you couldn’t blame Felicia and her discomfort. You sighed, mentally cursing everyone in the room who was making Felicia feel uncomfortable, and you felt your stomach twisting with guilt for putting her in the spotlight, something that she had never asked.

“Sure, I’ll wait for you” you answered with a slight smile, but looking at her with worried.  

Felicia didn’t stutter or doubted, she quickly let go of you and walked off, some people were still looking at her as she exited the dance floor and then the room, but the gazes were still on you who remained on the dance floor. It felt a bit awkward as you stood there, all alone, and you felt kind of ridiculous.

You looked down for a second and decided that getting a drink was your best bet for not feeling dumb or guilty but before you could give another step, you bumped into Peter.

“Want to dance?” Peter offered, looking at you expectantly and you faltered.

Your eyes linked with Peter’s, who had his eyes twinkling as he looked at you with a warm smile and you felt like melting right then and thereby all means. You didn’t even felt the need to say anything to Peter, you simply took his hand and he stepped towards you, reaching to the small of your back and you held your breath as his fingertips touched your exposed skin. Then, he firmly took one of your hands in his, which he placed on his chest while you started to sway to the music. You wrapped one of your arms around his neck and felt the heat coming from Peter’s body.

As always, you felt at home in his arms with the smell of honey and cinnamon wrapping you in.

“You look really good today” you finally said to Peter, as you looked up to him.

Peter had been looking behind you and your voice snapped you out of it, he was trying to figure out where Felicia was or if she was coming back, but there were no signs of her. So, he decided to simply enjoy having you in his arms and smiled.

“Just today?”

You smiled. “You know what I mean,” you muttered as you laid your head on his chest, so he couldn’t see the small sprinkling of red to dust across your cheeks.

“Well, you look especially beautiful today,” Peter added before he stepped away and let go of your back, spinning you around under his arm before he pulled you in.

You laughed as you looked at Peter dreamily, as you remember that a part of you had wanted this to happen for a long time when you were younger. It would be almost two years since you had skipped town but there you were, harboring feelings for Peter Parker and his caramel curls with chocolate eyes, trying to push them down but now it was because you had a relationship.

“Are you having a good time?” you asked him, trying to keep your thoughts in line.

Peter nodded as he looked around. “Yeah, food is nice and some people wanted to talk to me when they realized I’m Tony’s intern”

“Well, you are the best intern,” you answered honestly with a shrug, causing Peter to give you a smug smile to which you replied almost immediately with a roll of eyes.  “Don’t tell Harley I said that”

“I won’t,” Peter promised as he pulled you closer to him, he could feel he was getting overwhelmed by the characteristic vanilla smell that always surrounded you, he had you in his arms and he couldn’t help himself to ask. “Do you really think that?”

You looked at him while tilting your head as if he had asked something so obvious to you that you were surprised that Peter didn’t already know.

“You know how I feel about you,” you found yourself saying before you could stop yourself.

Peter stared at you for a minute as if you’d lost your mind by saying what you had said. He seemed so confused by the sudden second of honesty, that it made you wondered if you had screwed up again and you felt panic washing your body. But as Peter saw how alarm you’d gotten, he decided to change the topic.

“And you?” he asked before spinning you around again.

You thanked him mentally for that and give him a small smile, which he nodded to it.

“What about me?”

Peter sighed, not wanting to bring Felicia up to this moment after you had said that but he felt like he had no other choice. He groaned and then dipped his head down to your shoulder. You chuckled and placed your hand in the back of his neck, playing with his baby curls before he stood back up straight.

“Are you having a good time, with…” Peter said but his words tapered off, not wanting to say her name.

You could see how his jaw clenched but you simply rolled your eyes, thinking that Peter was somehow just being dramatic.

  “You can say her name, you know?” you joked but as you look at Peter and how to set his jaw was, you felt like he was being serious.

And he was. 

“I know, I just don’t want to,” Peter said bluntly and you frowned at him. “My Spidey sense just goes off.” He said with a shrug.

“Well, that’s uncalled for,” you shot at him with a haughty expression.

Peter cocked his head as he looked at you, and you felt the anger bubbling up on your chest. He seemed condescending and you hated it, you hated that he was watching you from this pretend high road.

“It’s not,” Peter grumbled.

You didn’t say anything right away as you glared at Peter, you knew Felicia was a sensitive topic but you hadn’t witness Peter this pressed or being so blunt about your relationship with Felicia. You wondered if it was because he had seen you dancing with her or just because he still didn’t like her but you didn’t need this at the moment.

“Are we going to do this again Peter?” you asked him while raising your eyebrow as if challenging him.

And Peter, who feel sheer annoyance at Felicia that stemmed from his bad feeling about her was ready to go.

“I think we need to,” Peter answered bluntly. “I just don’t trust her, y/n.”

You chuckled ironically and looked away before your eyes came back to his, the audacity. “Well, I do Peter and if I remember correctly, no one’s asking you.”

Peter shook his head at your response, feeling a bit more annoyed at how stubborn you were being. Not that he wasn’t aware that you were already stubborn.

“I know you make fun of my senses,” Peter started, as he gave you another spin, you followed his lead but you were glaring at him under your lashes. “But I’m telling you there’s something wrong and dangerous with her.”

“Peter you need to stop,” you growled under your breath as Peter rolled his eyes and tried to spin you again but you pushed him back a bit.

Peter winced at the gesture and you could feel your heart aching at Peter’s behavior, part of you felt guilty but another part of you was just hurt that he didn’t try to keep his comments to himself. Peter was the kindest person you knew, but the jealousy or whatever he was feeling about Felicia and how he tried to just throw rocks at your relationship with Felicia, simply felt just mean.

“y/n, you know I can’t let you be in danger” Peter answered honestly, and yes, you could sense the fright in his voice and see the gleam of uneasiness in his eyes, but it wasn’t fair to you.

“I’m not!” you snapped at him; a little bit louder than what you would’ve liked.

“But you are!” Peter answered with the same strength and you hoped that no one had heard you. Both of you were breathing heavily and by that point, the tension could be cut with a knife as you glared at the other but then Peter simply sighed, letting go from your body and watched you sheepishly. “and I can’t stay silent while I watch you get-what?”

You frowned at Peter’s behavior. “Peter?”

Peter swallowed hard and then his eyes traveled to the entrance, where Flash was shaking his head as he looked anxiously at Peter. He closed his eyes, knowing that after this you might even get angrier with him, probably more than what you’d ever been but at that moment he didn’t care.

Felicia had disappeared and it was a risk.

“Where’s the last time you saw her?” Peter asked as he placed his fingers on his ear, trying to listen better at the com and he watched as it dawned on you what he had been doing.

The disappointment in your eyes and then how they were washed with anger made Peter winced.

“Are you kidding me?” you snapped at him, trying to take the com out of his ear so you could talk but Peter grabbed your hands strongly, you cursed to yourself that you couldn’t overpower him at the moment or take out your suit.

People began to stare at the both of you, as you twisted your wrists to get off from Peter’s hold but it was getting harder and harder, Peter trying to listen through the com to whatever Harley was saying.

“What do you mean she isn’t here?” Peter growled under his breath and then looked back at the edge of the dance floor where Flash was, you followed his gaze and quickly groaned, annoyed that all of your friends were in this together.

“Let. Me. Go!” you said as you gritted your teeth while turning to him with eyes blazing with heat, and Peter, who was gazing at you regretfully, took his hold off of you.

You pushed Peter aside and then walked towards Flash, who had this haunted expression on his face as he saw you coming his way, clearly intimidated by you.

“Give me that Flash,” you growled at the boy who was looking at you sheepishly. “I don’t want to ask twice” you threaten while raising your eyebrow and wiggling your fingers so that Flash could give you the com.

He didn’t hesitate, and you quickly put the earpiece on your ear and pulled out the wire from his shirt so you could talk to them.

“All of you need to back off, now.” You growled at them, clearly angry at what your supposed friends were doing. It seemed so extreme for them to have this whole spy thing going on to keep you away from Felicia, and it hurt. It hurt that after everything, after how much you had grown, it seemed like no one really cares about or trusted you and your choices. And you wanted to only be angry -you really did- but the words that Peter told you and how sincere they were, you felt trepidation as you thought about Felicia being loose at Stark Tower; you couldn’t help to ask. “Where was the last time you saw her?”

Peter turned from his place on the dance floor, a frown on his face and he felt somehow relief that he could hear that you were concerned about Felicia’s whereabouts too.

“She was in the bathroom,” you heard Betty’s voice in the com. “But then she just disappeared”

“I followed her there but she wasn’t on the stalls, she just sneaked out,” MJ followed but then Harley interrupted them.

“Just saw her at the edge of the entrance to the elevators,” Harley added and before he could say anything else, you walked away.

You didn’t know what you were going to catch Felicia in as you tried to move through the crowd of people on the gala, as you walked outside and glared at Harley and MJ who were watching you sorrowfully, clearly feeling shitty about what they had done but you passed by them as you walked towards the entrance to the elevators. The thing about Felicia was that most of the time, you did trust her -most of the time- but no matter how much you tried to assure yourself the same thing, you knew there was always Peter’s voice in the back of your head, saying you that she was trouble.

And you knew that it would always somehow hunt your relationship with Felicia. It’s not like she had said anything or anything she did, it was the feeling that came along with it. Her world moved too fast and her love seemed to burn too bright, but for you, how on earth is someone that was basically the opposite of what you were pulled in like she did? Even if sometimes it felt off.

“What are you doing here?” you asked Felicia, louder than you expected as you caught her against the wall while she was fixed her shoe. She was at the edge of the private entrance that Pepper had made for you to go to your apartment, it was supposed to have a guard but the person was nowhere to be found.

Felicia seemed a bit stunned as she heard you and quickly straightened herself, placed her small bag on her shoulder, and fixed her skirt. “Didn’t know it would take you so long to realize I was gone, it’s even upsetting, you know?”

You cut her game off quickly as you placed your hands on your hips and glared at her. You knew she liked to play games; it was rather obvious by now that she wouldn’t give you a straight but either way you still gave it your best shot.

“Why aren’t you at the party?” you asked her again and Felicia, who didn’t answer immediately, though the expression in her eyes grew hard to read. Her hands quickly settled on your waist and tugged you forward.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she breathed out as she gazed at your lips, but you were still glaring at her. Felicia simply rolled her eyes and before you knew it, Felicia threw you back against the wall into a bruising kiss.

You felt a bit stunned for a second but then you just let go. There was something about the kiss that was so intoxicating. Her lips were softer than ever, she tasted like champagne and cotton candy. You could feel how her hands were wondering your body and before you knew it, she was raising your skirt and pulling one of your legs up so you could wrap it around her waist. Her hands trailed then under your dress, the cool of her fingers on your inner tight made goosebumps dance across your skin. It was right then when you felt the spark of heat between your legs, you knew you were getting turned on too.

And for some reason it made you snap.

You pulled away from her and Felicia let out a soft whine of protest. Both were breathing heavily, and you could see Felicia’s lipstick all over her mouth but she was watching you with a cat-like gaze. It was right then and there were you realized that things were about to go a lot farther than what was usually intended,

“Are you drunk?” you asked her with a frown.

But Felicia shook her head. “No,” she answered honestly and her eyes flickered to your lips, her gaze darkened. “I just want you”

Before you knew it, she had her lips against yours again, tongues dancing as you let out small whimpers. You tangled your hands in her hair, nearly moaning at the feeling of her breasts against yours, you were so incredibly pressed together as you’d ever been. Felicia started to play with the rest of your dress, almost wanting to take it off and you smiled into the kiss as you tried to stop her but it was getting too hot. How her hands were loosely trailing your exposed torso, electricity dance under her skin, and then Felicia placed her knee up between your legs, nearly making you moan extremely loud.

You didn’t know if it was the champagne or the fact that the anger that you’d felt minutes ago was somehow fueling the encounter, how somehow you wanted to show that Peter was wrong. Felicia was yours and you were Felicia, there was no reason to think otherwise, and so, why you needed to wait longer?

Therefore, you didn’t hesitate when Felicia said something else.  “Can we go up to your room?” she asked, it almost sounded like a whine as she touched your body.

And you simply nodded before you took her hand and pulled her into the elevator, continuing to kiss and moan and giggle as you pressed her against the elevator. It felt like something shifted as you entered the penthouse and walked her to your room.

The moment you were inside, Felicia pressed had you pressed against the wall, hands tangled in your hair as she kissed your back and began to undo your dress as quickly as she could, without ripping it. You moaned loudly as the dress finally pooled down on your feet and Felicia pressed hot open-mouth kisses to your back until she reached the small of your back and played with the thong that you had decided to wear.

“Such a pretty girl,” Felicia muttered, mostly to herself and you moaned at the thought of Felicia liking dirty talk. “And all mine”

You just whimpered at her comment, you wanted it so badly. So, you turned around and pulled Felicia by her neck up and began to undress her, leaving a trail of clothes on the floor while you drove her back to your bed. You both were just on your thongs by the time you fell onto your bed, and you quickly take the lead as you kissed her while you placed yourself on top, you then decided to press your tight between her legs this time, immediately pressing upwards and making her groan against your mouth but she quickly ground on your tight while you watched her in wonder.

Felicia’s body was perfect, you had seen her with little clothes on but this was a whole different thing. Having her on your bed, exposed as she whimpered and moan, because of your actions was a completely new feeling. Her skin was soft and dark, her hair was tousled and falling haphazardly across her face and spread on the bed, her plump breasts were bouncing by the way she was moving against you, the curve of her hips encased in the tiny black panties she was wearing, made you feel like you wanted to cry.

It would be your first time with a girl and somehow you froze, maybe just because you were just awe-struck by Felicia’s beauty or just because of the sheer fear that you could fuck this up. Felicia realized it soon and quickly raised from her place in the bed and stood from the place where she was, taking your hand and holding it tightly.

“y/n, don’t be afraid”

You simply shook your head, swallowing. “I just really want you,” you panted breathlessly and Felicia winced at your comment but before you could ask her what was wrong, her eyes shifted to your exposed breast and began to hungrily kiss them.

You massaged her scalp as she administered all the attention and devotion to your chest and you quickly fell backward, your head hit the pillows behind it as Felicia pressed herself against you. You couldn’t help to squirm and yelped as Felicia’s lips latched onto your right nipple, sucking it harshly before she changed over to the other. You were heaving and letting out small sighs as Felicia dig her fingers into the flesh of your hips and thigh, your core was dripping as you looked down to see Felicia’s eyes trained on your reaction.

She smirked as heard you whining about her stopping, she quickly pressed her lips firmly against you, her tongue playing with yours before she spoke.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” she whispered as her lips ghosted over yours but you only moaned as you felt her hardened nipples against yours.

“Hardy, don’t tease.” You complained as you cupped her face and pulled her down roughly for another kiss but she quickly pulled away with a mischievous smile.

“Come on Stark,” she panted as she looked at you. “I want to watch you beg”

You were pretty sure your mind snapped after that.

Before you knew it, Felicia pressed her digits to your clothed clit and you couldn’t help but to roll your eyes to the back of your head and opened your mouth at the sensation, but you wanted more. But you simply whined, not wanting to actually say anything but Felicia shook her head.

“Say it” she rasped.

“Please, touch me” you finally begged as you squirmed under her touch.

It was such an unbelievable turn on to hear Felicia’s dark laugh before she slipped her hand into your panties, stroking your entrance with her fingers as she nipped your earlobe. Your breath hitched, and you moaned, holding onto the sheets of your bed as she pumped a finger, and then two inside of you as she worked on your wetness. You gasped in bliss and soon you were arching your hips to get closer to her hand as waves of fire passed through your body, she was so good to you.

She was pressing against all your sensitive spots as she placed hot kisses on your mouth and wherever she could, it didn’t take too long for you to scream her name, your walls flittered around her fingers and your breath began to come in ragged pants. You didn’t know exactly how it happened since you were feeling so busy as she administered all the attention to your core, but soon your mouth found Felicia’s shoulder and before you knew it you bite into her skin, she whimpered and moaned at your reaction.

“Fuck…” she moaned as she dipped her head onto your shoulder, having to stop one second.

And you felt able to breathe again and before Felicia could protest, you switched positions and quickly took Felicia’s arms and placed them over her head.

She giggled.

“Didn’t take you for a top, y/N!” she screamed at the end as you placed two fingers on her core without much anticipation and began to administer the same care to her as she had done for you.

You pushed Felicia’s panties off her legs and spread her legs wider, you wanted to watch how she came undone under you. It was almost hypnotic how your fingers would get lost on her core and how you would be touching her in all the right spots, you then pressed on her clit with your thumb and it just made her moan louder, you went deeper and incomprehensible noises left Felicia’s lips. It was just too much and before you knew it, you simply dived down between her legs.

Felicia tasted like candy and you hummed into her core as you buried your mouth inside of it, tongue on her entrance and making her scream your name. You quickly placed your hands under her legs and grabbed her hips tightly as you continued administering attention to her core, with so much love and care that it seemed like you would die if you weren’t pleasuring her. Then you wrapped your lips around her clit and flicked it with your tongue before you continue to kiss her and in that second one of her hands flew to your head, tugging your hair.

You smiled as you watched her edging, you quickly decided to touch and grab her butt, pulling her in even closer. But before you knew it, Felicia was raised from her position ad pulling away from you, she grabbed you by your chin and captured your lips into a vulgar kiss, her tongue tangling sensually with yours.

But you pulled away. “I wanted to make you cum,” you panted as she licked her lips, tasting herself before she shook her head.

“I’ll make you cum first,” she whispered before she threw you against the bed, a little bit too harsh. “It’s an order,” she said and you felt a shiver ran down your spine because of the anticipation.

Felicia smiled, you could see her cheeks flushed pink and her cat-like grin as she placed a peck against your lips and began to kiss your body, from your chest to your middle to your core. The way Felicia was licking you, sucking you, seemed like too much. You might’ve screamed, moaned, gasped, or all three at once, maybe you whined but you couldn’t remember. It almost seemed like you had blacked out by how she was kissing you down there, how she was pressing on your clit and fucking you with her mouth.

It wasn’t like when Peter had already done it but for obvious reasons, this seemed more intense. The way Felicia was so purposefully working on you, had you gasping for air. It was wild, just like Felicia was, it was pure heat and fire, sweat dripping from your naked skin as Felicia held you down so hard that she probably left bruises. She knew what she was doing to you and it became more than obvious that she wanted to keep going as you felt the fire pooling on your stomach and your legs began to shake, it didn’t take long for you to feel yourself clenching and shuddering around Felicia’s tongue or fingers and you started to come apart at the seams.

Felicia smiled as she felt it and look at you screaming her name, everything exploding with fire as wave after wave of your orgasms seized your body. White light danced on your vision and ripples of blinding pleasure erupted through your body. Your breath was labored as Felicia came back up and pressed her lips against yours, while you tried to catch your breath and slowly drifted back to earth after your release.

“You were so good,” Felicia whispered as she placed small kisses over your body and then quickly stood from the bed into the bathroom of your room.

You were still trying to recover as you watched her naked body entering the bathroom and then heard how she used the sink before she came out with a towel and carefully cleaned you. You smiled at Felicia who quickly put her underwear on and began to look for her dress while you watched her from the bed.

It was such a completely new experience for you, that you were still a bit in awe about what had happened, you quickly put on your underwear and wrapped the towel around your torso while Felicia looked at herself in your large mirror while she fixed her make-up and her dress. Part of you was extremely happy that it had finally happened but then, another part of you wished that Felicia could just stay in bed and talk to you about it.

“That was…” you started, hoping that it would pull her in.

But both of your heads snapped at the loud noise coming from your door. There was knocking a loud, knocking on your door and as the seconds passed it became almost violent.

“y/n?” Felicia asked as she took her jacket and her pursed and walked back to one of the corners of your room, the one farther away from your door.

You frowned at the incessant knocking and quickly took the towel off, running to get your dress and putting it on as the pounding continued. You were still trying to zip your dress and jumped when you finally got close to the door and ordered HAPPY, your AI, to open the door.

As the door opened your eyes widened as you looked at Peter barging into the room. Peter glanced at you and he stayed still for a moment, he could tell almost immediately and it felt like someone had just punched all the air out of his lungs. He saw your disheveled hair and how your dress wasn’t fully zipped, he could also see the messy blankets behind you on your bed and he had to close his eyes for a second, otherwise, he was sure he would’ve broken something at the moment.

He hated it, Felicia had been successful at sucking you in and now Peter knew why.

He finally opened his eyes and decided to get back to what he was doing, he shot a glare at Felicia.

“Felicia,” Peter growled as he walked closer to her while Felicia took a defensive stance.

Before he could get somehow closer, you walked in front of Peter and stopped him. Firmly placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back, defending Felicia.

“What do you want, Parker?” you growled at him but Peter didn’t place the attention on you, instead he stared at Felicia disdainfully.

Peter didn’t want to talk to you about it, if his wishes came true, you wouldn’t even be in the room right now. It was taking all his willpower not to drag you out of the room and lock you out before he began to try to capture Felicia, he just didn’t want to hurt you in the process.

“Give it back, Felicia.” He growled once more and you could see his hands forming into fists, he was holding it so tightly that you were sure that Peter would get moon marks on his palms.

But you brushed the thought off as the words of Peter dawned on you. You frowned at Peter’s comment and you turned towards Felicia, who was giving another step back as she defensively looked at you.

“What are you talking about?” you asked Peter coldly, while your eyes were still linked to Felicia’s greyish-purple eyes.

“Your girlfriend stole the repulsor prototype!” Peter snapped at her and you felt your heart sinking on your chest. “I checked the security footage; she stole it and she’s going to give it to-”

“Shut up!” Felicia’s angry scream cut off Peter as you could feel your head shaking automatically at Peter’s accusation.

There was no way Felicia had done it, otherwise, it would mean that nothing that had happened with you was true, that the feelings that you were harboring with Felicia were based on a lie, that she had never cared or loved you, that Peter was right, that she was only using you.

And then your eyes fell onto her hands and how hard and tight she was holding her small bag.

“Felicia…”

The way Felicia’s eyes were almost tearing up, how she glanced away from you wanting to avoid your gaze and her chin began to tremble. It was almost palpable the regret on her, the guilt seemed to be eating her alive and you felt like you wanted to vomit.

“Felicia, tells me it’s not true,” you whispered once more as you looked at her, you felt your tears pooling in your eyes but Felicia didn’t move. “Answer me!” you screamed at her, it ripped through your chest and it was so loud that both, Felicia and Peter, jumped at your reaction.

Peter could feel the weight of your emotions on his shoulders, he knew that he had fucked up by bringing you into this but there was no other way, Felicia was on a mission and Peter couldn’t allow her to finish it.

“Felicia, you don’t have to go to Kingpin,” he offered while he stepped forward to where you were standing but Felicia simply chuckled ironically.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about Spidey” she spat at him while she quickly took a defensive stand and let her heels on the floor, she was ready to fight.

But Peter wanted nothing of the sort.

“We don’t want anyone getting hurt,” he insisted but before he could add something, both Felicia and you spoke.

“Too late for that,” Felicia’s silvery and wobbly voice said at the same time with your wavery and soft voice.

You looked at each other with so much hurt in your eyes that you wanted to explode into tears right there and then but the anger and the rage were too much. The feeling of betrayal ran through your body like fuel and before you knew it, you were tapping your breacelet and the nanobots began to spread on your arm and before you knew it, you were shooting your repulsors at Felicia.

Felicia, as talented as she was, quickly dodge your shots but soon Peter took out his webs and began to fire them as Felicia tried to avoid both of your attacks on her in your room. You tried not to care as you would blow up a part of your room, simply wanting to catch Felicia before she did something stupid but before you knew it, she was placing the sleeves of her suit. Her claws appearing from one moment to another as she secured the bag across her body and began to perform a serious act of gymnastics while she tried to avoid you.

Peter managed to get one of Felicia’s ankle’s as she finished performing a backflip to dodge one of your repulsors shots but when she fell onto the floor, she swiftly glanced down at the web and cut it with her nails before she was avoiding your hits too, in one second you fire your window, destroying part of your room and also allowing the cold wind of November to hit you, but Felicia smirked at your mistake.

“Don’t go Felicia”, you growled at her but she simply glanced at you with red eyes.

Before you knew it, she was taking the repulsor out of her bag, the gauntlet where Harley and Tony had decided to place the repulsor for more standard trials on her hand. She placed it on hers and before you knew it, she was pointing at you.

You weren’t wearing your full suit at the moment, simply your arms but Felicia just closed your eyes and looked away, then she fired at you. Peter realized it and quickly tried to grab you so he could avoid you getting blown up but he was too late, your fingers brushing before the explosion sent you off to different parts of the room. Your body hit the wall, hard, you felt your head bouncing against it and then you fell onto the floor that was filled with debris and broken glass.

Your vision turned blurry and the last thing you remembered was Felicia watching you from the window before she quickly jumped out, then everything turned black.

***

taglist: @spideylovin @fandomtrash100 @soullessbabee @liljennyx3

***

i’m so sorry for the delay and like for the typos you might find in this chapter bUT IT’S FINALLY UP AND WE HAVE ONLY TWO CHAPTERS LEFT. I had to cut this chapter so I could make the next one a bit longer and this one shorter, next one we are getting a reveal and also tears and post break up glow. 

Last chapter didn’t got any reblogs or notes but it was okay because it allowed me to take my time to write this one and part of the next one. Although Im really excited to see what are your thoughts about the smut with Felicia and Felicia in general. Only one of you saw it coming I think hehe. But i’m really happy about the fact that we only have to chapters left. I love to hear your theories. and i’m always really happy that you are enjoying this with me and i hope you are happy with this chapter, either if you are team felicia or team peter.

as always, the new sneek peak for the next chapter is going to be on. the masterlist if you want to see what’s coming next!

please please please let me know your thoughts and opinions on this chapter and if you have ANY theories or comments I would love to see them!!! I’m already so happy with the love you have given to the last chapters, I really hope you like it!  any feedback is well received and thank you so much!

[peterbabytt]

StarkerFestivals // Summer Bingo // Royal AU

synopsis: prince peter parker, 19, is set to marry princess morgan stark, 17, in an arranged marriage... it's not his fault her father is so devilishly handsome...

words: 1,525

warnings: light swearing

!!everyone featured in this fanfiction is 18+ unless specifically stated otherwise!!

i hope you enjoy 💓 feedback/constructive criticism is and always will be accepted, but hate will always be blocked

(by proceeding, you understand and accept the warnings previously provided)

    “Your Majesty,” Peter lifted his gaze to the door of the library. Michelle, a young servant in the castle, was standing in the doorway. Lifting the edge of her skirt ever so delicately, she curtsied before Peter and his mother. “Your Highness.” Peter cringed. He knew she was being respectful, polite, professional before the queen, but as the two of them? Peter insisted she use his name, as he had a distaste for the formal tone.

    “The Royal Family has arrived.” Oh, good... and here, Peter was hoping they had been run off the road on their way over. Peter glanced at his mother to gauge her reaction. Her features were soft and delicate, but he knew those eyes all too well. In her own mind, she had already debated how to cancel tonight’s dinner a thousand ways over, all with varying degrees of severity.

    “Yes, thank you, Michelle. We will join you in the foyer in a moment.” She beamed. Michelle—MJ—nodded, curtsied once more, then turned to leave the library. The moment she was out of earshot, Mary turned to her son. “It’s not like we’ve had this planned for months already. You’d think, for the sake of the kingdoms, they’d be punctual.”

    “Easy, mother…” He tried, resting a bookmark between the pages of his book before rising, stepping towards his mother, and offering his arm to her. “You’re too tense. I’m sure there’s… a decent explanation.” For their own sake, there’d better be.

    They walked at an easy pace, a pace much slower than Peter was used to, and yet, even after arriving in the foyer, the two still had to await the arrival of their royal guests. And Mary was growing even more impatient as each second dawdled on by. Peter, on the other hand, had a grin resting gently over his features. Tonight was already off to… an interesting start, and if it continued in any similar manner, he knew his mother would call off the arrangement.

    A part of the boy felt guilty for wanting this dinner to go awry, but was it really so wrong to just… not be ready? Everything seemed to be moving so quickly. He had only turned 19 a week ago, and he still felt as though he had yet to meet his own self. Sure, he had a bit of a grasp on who he thought he was, what he thought he liked, and who, for that matter… but even so, many things had changed throughout the span of a year.

    He’d met who he thought was the love of his life, even despite the fact he knew his parents would never approve. In that moment, in the desperation to just be himself, he had prepared to lose everything he’d ever known, all for a chance—not even a guarantee—simply a chance to finally know who he was. He took a leap of faith and prayed to stick the landing. But he stumbled. And that terrified him—he had been so sure of himself...

    Peter leapt from his bed, running a shaky hand through his mess of curls. He felt his skin prick with goosebumps, but from the cold or the fear, he hadn’t yet figured out. MJ was still on his bed, but she was now sitting upright, watching him with concerned eyes.

    “Are you okay?” Peter couldn’t bring himself to form an answer. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, so he hid his face in his hands, took a moment to gather his thoughts, gather his breath… then, finally, sat back down on the edge of his bed. MJ scooted closer to the prince, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Peter?” It was then that he realized he hadn’t yet answered her question.

    “I’m sorry, I… I can’t.” He trembled as he spoke, so MJ reached for the undershirt he had discarded only moments ago. He took it, but made no move to put it back on just yet.

    “Peter, look at me,” MJ’s voice was soft, soothing, unoffended. He obeyed, and the hand that rested on his shoulder moved to cup his cheek. “It’s okay. This is a big step. We don’t have to do this tonight.”

    “It’s not that…” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, and it took all the strength in his body not to vomit.

    “You can tell me, sweetheart… what is it?” The look in her eyes showed nothing but sympathy, nothing but love… how had he let himself get this far? If he had known from the beginning, he shouldn’t have brought her to his bedroom… shouldn’t have promised her something he could never give her… was it selfish?

    “I love you, I do, just… not the way I thought I did.” The instant the words fell from his mouth, he wanted to reel them all back in, to ignore everything his mind was begging him to do—set everything aside and just give in. But he couldn’t bear the idea of lying to his best friend. To himself, he could live with… but MJ deserved so much better. “I’m sorry, that sounded… harsh.”

    “It did, yea,” her tone was playful, but the smile never met her eyes. She was hurting, but she would never admit it.

    “You deserve so much better than this…”

    “Peter, there’s nobody else I want… I want you. I want to be with you. I want to make this work, and I know it’ll be hard, but I want to do whatever we can to make this work.” He tried to ignore the tears welling up in his eyes.

    “I can’t lie to you, too.” A thick silence fell between them. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it come this far.”

    “Peter, whatever you’re trying to get at, I’m not understanding.”

    “I’m—”

    “Her Majesty and His Royal Highness,” An unfamiliar voice drew Peter from his thoughts, and he had to force his eyes to focus. He hadn’t even noticed the gates had opened and the royals had been led inside. He glanced briefly at his mother to ensure she hadn’t noticed his trance, then adjusted his posture before—oh… holy shit…

    The king that stood before him was easily not the king he had imagined. He pictured the man to be far less… sweet heavens and all things holy, was there even a word to describe this man other than purely beautiful?

    He wore a deep blue suit that had been tailored oh-so perfectly for his frame, and his hair had been styled in a delicate wave. He begged himself not to reach out and card his fingers through it—it’d be a shame, afterall, to disturb such beauty. His beard was expertly shaped, sharp and clear edges defining his even sharper jawline. Peter couldn’t help but imagine how that very beard would feel between—

    “I present His Majesty, King Stark—” The queen extended her hand, and he accepted it in his own, raising it gently to his lips for a kiss. Peter was enthralled—hypnotized by their curvature.

    “It is indeed a pleasure to meet you, King Stark,” his mother spoke, and Peter nearly bounced on the balls of his feet, eager to hear the king’s voice.

    “The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty,” Peter felt faint. “And please, forgive my informality, but call me Tony.” He turned to face Peter next, and he was almost certain, this time, that he would faint. He’d have absolutely no shame in it, either.

    Tony, with a smile, extended his own hand to Peter, and it took every fibre in his being to keep his own from trembling as their palms connected. God, even his hands were sexy. Rough skin, calloused fingers, a warm embrace. Had he died? Was this Heaven?

    “—and Her Royal Highness, Princess Morgan.” A beautiful, beautiful young woman with features to match her father’s. She wore a lovely black dress with a slight v in its neck, and her hair hung in delicate curls by her shoulders. Peter could easily admit that she was, indeed, effortlessly gorgeous. He only wished he could hold some sort of attraction to her rather than to her father…

    It was customary that both families dine together before a decision on an arranged marriage was made, and Peter thought he would never again be so thankful for customs or traditions in his life, for this particular custom meant his assigned seat at the dinner table was right beside Sir Stark himself. The idea of it, at least to Peter’s own understanding, was that the prince would dine beside the opposing king so the two could get to know one another and bond before the father of the princess could make a decision on the marriage. And then, of course, the same way around for the princess and the opposing queen. Then again, of course, this could also just be a blessing in Peter’s favor.

     It wasn’t until Peter felt a knee bump into his own underneath the table that he realized this was definitely a blessing in his favor. Now, of course, it could have been an accident, so, naturally, he brushed it off as one… the first time.

~~~~~

tags: @longlivestarker @starkeristheendgame @katzenbaby1 @starkerbee​

i had more i wanted to do with this one, but i couldn't find an ending that satisfied me lol i might do more with this later, i'll probably work on it a bit more, and repost later, but for now, here's this 💕

happy pride month 💓

[wittybittyspider]

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 & 𝗥𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗶𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆:

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ — an . . . analysis?

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I've just really been thinking about Peter's flaws, particularly centered around the heavy burden of responsibility he carries, and how that affects both his personal and love life.

As much as I like to think so, he is not the most perfect character ever created, even though a lot of the times, his morals and principles are outstanding compared to others. He owns my whole heart, but I'm not so heedlessly obsessed that I don't see his downfalls.

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While he is a superhero with such popular and iconic love interests, he also may be a hero that's not very well suited for love.

Now, don't get it twisted, Peter DESERVES love and he's got the biggest heart in the world. But, perhaps it's because of this, that he takes on 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩.

How much can he, realistically, be committed to? Throughout the years, this is a problem in which Peter has faced MANY times (of course, part of that being other human responsibilities like school work, rent, a job, etc).

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I'll say, out of all of the characters I've portrayed, Peter is the one I haven't been able to ship with very easily. In roleplays with Gwen — even if it's not the 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩 — the two end up in arguements because Peter isn't there for her. I've never really been in roleplays with a Mary Jane, but I'd assume it would go the same way. Felicia would probably be a little more independant/understanding, but the two are so different. They aren't soulmates like one could say MJ is, or Gwen was, for Peter. In any manner, his dual identity 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 impacts their relationship, too.

Other ships that aren't so canon, well, I haven't really gotten to develop 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 far.

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Nevertheless, within his comic relationships, there can be a lot of strain — romantically, platonically, or familial.

He can't really escape this "you're not there for me" arguement. He can say "𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺," and probably truly 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 sorry. But he can't (or won't) change his actions, or make it better in any way, because he IS Spider-Man. He has a responsibility to use his power. He essentially 𝘩𝘢𝘴 to be late for dates and leave in the middle of a kiss because there's a need for help. He has to make these sacrifices.

And after a while, how disappointing would that feel on the other end? He tries so hard to follow his responsibilities as Spider-Man, but it's so hard to do so while ALSO trying to for Peter.

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Spider-Man's sense of responsibility is sometimes overwhelming, and you have to wonder 𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝙞𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚?

I think it's a overall a 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 aspect of Peter's character, although it can definitely, 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 be a flaw as well, for multiple reasons; burn out, of course, and this impact it has on his personal life.

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As many times as Peter has tried to give up being Spider-Man, it's a decision that never sticks.

I don't think he could ever truly give this part of him up (𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴). For this reason, I don't see it a suitable ending for Spider-Man; for him to abandon being a hero in favour of fulfilling a normal life; for him to act on fully understanding that, in fulfilling responsibilities as Spider-Man, he is neglecting responsibilities in his personal life.

While this might be a potentially happy ending for Peter, I don't believe it's true to his character. I think for Peter, there has to be this balance of both lives he lives. His "ending," will have Spider-Man in it.

What Ben Parker stands for means something, and Peter can't just stop living by that significance.

To only focus on himself would not be following his moral compass. It would be ignoring the lesson learned after letting the robber run past him. ⠀⠀⠀⠀

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Questions I ask myself echo what Peter struggles with.

Is a relationship selfish?

Would it be wiser of Peter to not get close to those he loves? To not get them so tangled up in his life? Doesn't it only hurt them in the end?

But — wouldn't it just as equally be irresponsible to those he loves 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝙩𝙧𝙮?

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I imagine that Peter feels hopeless, and even a little lost when it's brought up that he has let down someone he cares about simply 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴. Because of what he has to do with the power he was given.

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In the end, I think Peter's struggle to juggle his responsibilities makes him more relatable. Everyone struggles to keep up with their responsibilities, whether it's from keeping up with a job, homelife, or individual struggle. With Spider-Man, we have to remember that he never gives up, no matter the odds. There is always hope.

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[joyful-soul-collector]

You want a hug?

Prompt: Touch Starved

@teammightypen​ requested Touch-Starved! 

I accidentally deleted this ask a long time ago and only remembered what square was requested + who requested it, so sorry if you asked for any specific things and I didn’t put them in! I hope you like it though!

Irondad taglist: @phahbiyah​ @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars​ @clevermuffinalmondpeach​ @stuck-in-a-fictional-universe @canonismybitch​ @freckledmountain​ @hold-our-destiny​ @not-your-housekeeper98​ @misskirkstark​ @iron-loyalty​ @skeeter-110​ @m3ga1nsp1r3d​ @nazezdha321​ @peterparkerspidgeons​ + @badthingshappenbingo​

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!

Read on Ao3

Sometimes, Peter gets this really tight ache in his chest. He has no idea why. It usually happens on bad days, days where Flash took things a little too far, days where he missed Uncle Ben just a little too much, days where he hadn’t slept a wink for fear of nightmares. Those were when it hurt the most. 

But sometimes, he’ll be having a perfectly normal day and it would suddenly just… happen. His mood plummets, his limbs feel like lead, and the horrible ache in his chest starts again. Aunt May said it was mood swings, and that all teenagers get them, but that didn’t make them any easier to deal with. 

This was, apparently, one of those days. And it was even worse because he was actually having a good day. Not an average day, an actually good one! History test--nailed it (despite history being his least favorite subject), found a mechanical pencil just lying there in the hallway (it was one of those fancy ones where you click the side instead of the top), AND Mr. Delmar had premade Peter’s favorite sandwich so he didn’t have to wait for it (apparently he’d caught on to the fact that Peter was always starving after school and didn’t want his favorite customer to be practically trembling with hunger as he waited for his food to be prepared). 

But for some reason, as soon as Peter had finished his sandwich, his mood suddenly took an extreme downturn. That’s the opposite of what usually happens when he had his favorite afterschool meal. 

Peter was sitting on his favorite rooftop when it happened, staring out over New York as he ate. Now he felt oddly sick of the sight. Just mustering up the energy to climb down the wall to the sidewalk made him feel drained. He decided to take the subway instead of webbing his way to the tower, even if it took twice as long. There was just no way he’d be able to swing himself there. 

Not when he suddenly felt like he could burst into tears at any moment. 

Peter did his best to keep his composure for the whole subway ride and subsequent walk to the tower. When he walked through the doors and was eventually greeted by Tony and the rest of the Avengers, he only mumbled a small “Hi.” He was terrified that if he spoke any louder he’d start crying, and honestly didn’t feel like having a meltdown in front of everyone. He pretended not to notice their concern as he quickly made his way to his room. 

As soon as his door was shut behind him, the hole-like ache in his chest seemed to swell, pushing tears out of his eyes and making sobs bubble in his throat. Peter sat with a flump on his bed, gripping the blankets in his fists so hard it hurt, trying desperately to calm himself down. 

But nothing worked. 

Every time he tried his breathing exercises a bout of sobs interrupted him, he couldn’t seem to focus on anything in the room long enough to ground himself, he even just tried to tell himself “it’s okay” over and over again, but it felt like a lie every time. 

So instead, he just squeezed his eyes shut, feeling helpless to stop the ache from spreading to his shoulders and arms.

It was only when his door creaked open that he looked up, sobs ceasing for a moment out of confusion. It was Tony. 

“Pete?” he said, stepping into the room and shutting the door. Peter tried to wipe away the tears before Tony saw, but it was too late. “Oh no, Peter what happened? Are you okay?”

He quickly came over and sat next to Peter, eyes scanning him over, clearly looking for the injuries Peter always had a nasty habit of hiding. 

“I don’t even know,” Peter said, barely summoning the energy to talk above a whisper. “I was just eating my sandwich on the rooftop and suddenly everything felt just bad and draining and miserable and--” He cut off with another sob. 

“Aw kid, I’m so sorry, that really sucks,” Tony said. “I had bad mood swings like that when I was your age too. Doesn’t help with all the stuff you’ve been through either, I’m sure… You want a hug?”

As soon as he said that, Peter felt like a switch had flicked on in his head. He suddenly really, really wanted a hug. No, he needed a hug. The feeling was so strong that he didn’t even reply, he practically tackled Tony, who gave a small laugh of surprise. 

“Jeez, you're really not feeling good, are you?”

“I… can’t remember the last time I got a hug,” Peter said. He hadn’t actually realized it until he said it out loud, but it was true. He truly couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged. Hell, he could barely remember the last time he was touched in general. Maybe MJ had shoved him playfully last week? Maybe?

“What? Oh jeez, no wonder you feel like shit, you’re probably touch-starved out of your mind, kid,” Tony said, suddenly squeezing Peter a little tighter. 

“I’m what?” Peter said, his voice still trembling a little. 

“Touch-starved. Most of the time, people need touch to feel happy and safe, but if someone goes too long without a hug or even something as small as a handshake, it can make you feel depressed and sad. Most people need physical affection, and going too long without it means that you’re touch starved.”

“Oh… I didn’t even know that was a thing,” Peter said, suddenly feeling a little stupid. “So what, I’m just freaking out because I haven’t gotten a hug in a while? That sounds dramatic.”

“Heh, believe me, it’s not. It’s something a lot of teenagers go through, especially here in the US. Too many people here seem to think that physical affection is only for people in a romantic relationship. It’s especially hard for boys, since we’re taught that giving and receiving affection makes us less masculine. And of course, god forbid we be anything but the most manly man of all time. How often do you feel like this kid?”

Peter thought for a moment, head still pressed to Tony’s chest. 

“Umm… a lot I think. Once or twice a week? Maybe more, but I dunno.”

Tony sighed, running his hands through Peter’s hair now. Peter relaxed even further, leaning into his hand. 

“Sorry I didn’t realize kid. Probably should’ve noticed, I felt the same way when I was your age,” Tony said. 

“It’s ok, even I didn’t know what was wrong,” Peter said into Tony’s shirt. 

“What do you say to watching some movies and snuggling on the couch?” Tony said. Peter looked up, a shadow of nervousness entering his mind. 

“Is… is that okay?” 

Tony gave him a sympathetic smile and ruffled his hair. 

“Yeah, kid. Fun fact, you’re allowed to like hugs and cuddles, no matter what anyone says. C’mon, let’s go watch some Star Wars or somethin���.”

Tony and Peter ended up watching movies late into the night, and Rhodey walked in the next day to find Peter asleep on Tony’s lap, Tony’s fingers in his hair as though he’d fallen asleep giving Peter a scalp massage. Rhodey laughed and set about making breakfast for them, deciding to let them sleep in just a little bit longer.

[hale-13]

Shackled

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 7 Prompt - Collared

Peter Parker had been missing for one full week and Ned was losing his mind.

Words: 2502, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Ned Leeds

Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds

TW: Angst

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Ned honey?” His mom said, knocking on the frame of his cracked open door and poking her head in. Her expression was as careful and neutral as it had been for the last week – ever since Peter had gone missing on his walk to school.

Ned had spent most of the morning between classes trying to text Peter (seriously – it was just super rude to not be in school and not tell your friends. Who did that?) before both he and MJ had been called to the office. Principal Morita was both gentle and firm as he questioned them about Peter’s possible whereabouts and ‘were they covering for him? No one was in trouble they just needed to know’. May hadn’t called Peter in sick and had no idea where he might be so, naturally, they assumed his best friends might have some clue. Ever since he had gotten his powers Peter had been pretty flaky but, so far, he had always at least sent some sort of message to someone if he had Spider Business.

May, more frantic now, had tried to alert the police but had been shot down since Peter had been missing less than twenty-four hours and was what they would classify as ‘troubled’ with his absence record and disciplinary record at school. Tony Stark, who had been May’s next call, had gone into full panic-helicopter-mentor mode and had hacked into cameras all over the city to try and find out what he could. Unfortunately, the footage seemed to have been wiped leaving them with no leads other than Peter’s discarded book bag and cellphone left in an alley not far from the school.

Finding this had finally spurred the police into motion and had prompted an Amber Alert and search parties made up of May’s co-workers and Peter’s friends. Tony was surveying things via the Iron Legion while he spent most of his time in his workshop in the Tower; using FRIDAY and probably lots of illegal methods to try and track Peter down.

Ned had been helping May and MJ just about everyday after school since to hang up flyers and ask around to see if anyone had seen Peter but, so far, no luck. His parents had been doing what they could to help as well but Ned knew they could see him cracking under the pressure and worry.

They had, in fact, pulled him into a conversation the night before to tell him they wanted him to talk to a therapist, that finding someone missing after the first fourth-eight hours was really hard and they wanted to do what they could to prepare him for all eventualities and that they would always be there for him no matter what.

Ned liked to think he was a pretty chill and easy-going guy for the most part so he won’t say that he’s proud of how he handled that conversation. At least his parents didn’t get too upset when he skipped school with MJ to keep looking that day.

“Hmm?” Ned asked, not bothering to look up from his computer where he was pretending to write his English essay but seeing his mom’s cautious expression in his peripheral vision anyway. He didn’t like that she looked at him like he was made of glass that might shatter at any given moment.

“Your father and I are going to go grab some dinner and maybe see a movie. Want to come with us?” She sounded so hopeful and a small, angry part of Ned hated how normal they were trying to make things. Didn’t they understand that his best friend since kindergarten, his only friend other than MJ, was missing and could be… could be…

“No thanks,” he said instead, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible and pretending not to see the hurt look on his mom’s face when he turned down her offer.

“Okay,” she said, her tone soft with just the barest edge of disapproval. He was just glad that she didn’t try to force him into going but he had a feeling that he was due for another ‘family chat’ soon. “Text me if you want us to bring you something back.”

“Thanks,” Ned mumbled, still not looking up even when his mom let out a sad sigh and left, pulling his door back closed. Ned sniffed and wiped his tired eyes, he had a headache that was brewing and he wanted nothing more than to sleep but he couldn’t. If it was him missing he knew that Peter wouldn’t take any breaks looking for him so Ned couldn’t either. They had to find him.

Hearing the front door shut, Ned closed out of his essay and pulled back up Karen’s systems, still on his computer from the last time he and Peter had hacked into the Spider Suit, and went over the data she had managed to extract from Mr. Stark’s AI, FRIDAY without him knowing or, more likely, without him trying to stop them from taking the info for themselves. It was Tony Stark after all. The data itself was a disappointingly small amount and nothing that really helped point him in any kind of definitive direction. His phone buzzed against the desk, pulling Ned back.

From: MJ

Anything?

Ned rubbed his eyes again, little lights dancing over his vision at the pressure and typed out a quick ‘No’ in response before tossing his phone to the side. Something had to turn up eventually. He just knew it would.

As if summoned, taps sounded on his window and Ned froze, not daring to hope. He waited and the taps sounded again, more incessantly this time, and Ned jumped up from his desk – banging his knee in the process and nearly falling – but making it to the window to unlock it and throw it open. It couldn’t be…

After a week of being missing, Peter fell through to land roughly on the hard wood flooring of Ned’s room.

“Peter,” Ned said, breathless and voice full of emotion as tears pricked his eyes, reaching out a hand to help Peter up and then backing away when his friend flinched violently away from him.

“Sorry,” Peter said, his voice rough as he forced himself to his feet with a disingenuous smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry.”

Ned narrowed his eyes in concern. Peter was pale, his face thinner than it had been the last time Ned had seen him. He was wearing dirty sweat pants and a shirt that may have been white in a previous lifetime but was now yellowed and dirty. His clothing was covered in rips and tears, bloody skin in various stages of healing peaking through and staining his clothes. His fingers were twitching in time with the tic in his left eyebrow and his eyes were shifting all over the place like he was looking for something.

Worst of all had to be the half broken metal collar with wires poking out around his neck and the clear electrical burns surrounding it.

“We need to call May,” Ned said, rushing to his phone. “We need to call Mr. Stark.”

“No!” Peter said, limping quickly across the room to block Ned from his phone. The hand that touched his was cold and clammy with sweat and Peter was quick to remove it once he realized he was touching Ned. “They can’t see me like this, especially May. You have to help me,” he pleaded.

“Peter,” Ned said sadly as he took in how broken and tired his friend looked. “You need to go to the hospital – I’m not a doctor! I can’t fix all of… this!” He exclaimed, gesturing to all of Peter with an exaggerated movement.

Peter flinched again and crossed his arms across his abdomen, hunching in on himself. “I know,” he said, voice rough and broken. “I know but I don’t want them to see… I don’t…” he made an abortive movement to gesture at the collar. “I almost got it off but I couldn’t… please help.”

“You promise to let me call May and Tony right after?” Ned asked, slowly reaching out to rest his hand on Peter’s shoulder. He wanted to pull him into a hug but he figured that wouldn’t go over too well just yet. Peter nodded hurriedly, some of the tension leaking out of him with Ned’s agreement, and he let himself sink ungracefully to the floor. “Why didn’t you just break it?”

“It uh,” Peter said, squeezing his eyes closed and wetting his lips. “It suppresses my powers.”

“Whoa,” Ned muttered, sitting next to Peter and surveying the collar more closely. Peter twitched his chin down and hunched his shoulders again and Ned just waited for him to relax enough for Ned to get a closer look. The collar was a thick and heavy dull metal and was seated tight enough around Peter’s throat to dig into his skin and chafe; Ned winced sympathetically. The red light on the front was blinking dimly, poking out from a thick black box that Peter had clearly torn into at some point. Peter was uncharacteristically quiet while Ned stared but every muscle in his body was tensed like he was ready to run if necessary. “Can I hug you?” Ned blurted out earnestly making Peter jump a little in surprise.

“I… um you… what?” He asked leaning back so he could look at Ned more fully.

“You look like you need a hug,” Ned told him, reaching his arms up but taking care not to touch Peter. “So can I hug you?”

The nod Peter gave him was wobbly and wooden but, the second Ned wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in, Peter went limp, mashing his face into Ned’s shoulder before letting out a quiet and broken little sob. Peter’s own arms were shaking as they wrapped back around Ned, crying harder and wetting the front of Ned’s shirt with tears.

Ned could feel his heart breaking in his chest but that was overshadowed by a feeling of anger so strong that it nearly turned his vision red. Peter had been his best friend since they were kids. Peter had always been there for him no matter what. Whoever had dared to do this… well Ned didn’t pity what was going to happen to them. In lieu of letting out his frustrations, Ned just pulled Peter in tighter, shushing him and carefully patting his back.

“Sorry,” Peter whispered a few minutes later when he pulled back, using trembling hands to wipe his reddened eyes and chapped cheeks free of tears. “I didn’t mean to break down like that on you,” he said with a humorless laugh.

“Peter…” Ned wanted to tell Peter that he could always break down around Ned if he needed to. Peter was his brother in all but blood – Ned would always be there for him – but Peter shook his head violently to stop him, reaching up to let blood stained fingers brush the collar – his nails ragged and torn down to the quick.

“Please,” he begged, looking like he was barely keeping it together and Ned nodded.

“Okay Pete. I’ll look at it,” Ned reassured, moving his hands slowly up to touch the skin-warmed metal around his friend’s throat. “Does this have a tracker in it? A stun feature?” He tried to keep it professional but Peter still grimaced at the questions.

“I disabled the tracker and the electricity I think,” Peter said. “I just can’t see the mechanism to release it and I just… I need it off. I can’t…” his breathing sped up and Ned gripped his shoulder tightly in solidarity.

“It’ll be okay,” Ned said again, cautiously sorting through the loose wires to look into the black box just under Peter’s chin. “When you said this suppressed your powers did you mean all of them?”

Peter gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing painfully against the metal as he gave a tiny nod. “All of them,” he confirmed.

“What about your hearing?” Ned pressed, pulling his hands back from the locking mechanism of the collar. Peter frowned at him before paling further at the realization.

“Oh,” he said, reaching both hands up to grip the collar. “My hearing…”

“If I take it off,” Ned cautioned, “and all your senses come back at once…”

“That would be bad,” Peter confirmed. “It would be very bad.”

“I know you don’t want me to,” Ned started, ignoring the way that Peter was shaking his head. “But I really think we should call May and Mr. Stark. They’re worried about you and Mr. Stark has that sensory deprivation room for your overloads.”

“I can’t do that to May,” Peter said firmly. “I already went and got myself kidnapped I can’t put her through this.” His voice was more steady than it had been since he had arrived and Ned felt like rolling his eyes at Peter’s typical self-flagellation.

“Happy then,” Ned suggested, desperate. Peter bit his lip, considering for a second, before nodding his consent prompting Ned to leap for his phone, dialing Happy before Peter could stop him.

“Look Leeds,” Happy grumbled into the phone, the background noise muffling his voice slightly. “I already told you – we’ll call when we know something so just-,”

“Peter’s here,” Ned blurted out, sitting back down next to his friend and pulling him into a half hug that Peter fell into willingly, curling up into Ned’s side. “He’s here. “Whoever had him put this… they… look he doesn’t want May to see him until he’s fixed up some so can you just come get us?” Ned asked following it up with a ‘Please’ as an afterthought.

“The kid’s with you?” Happy asked, sounding like he was running. “Put him on the phone.”

“He wants to talk to you,” Ned said, offering Peter the phone which he, reluctantly, took.

“Hey Happy,” Peter tried for chipper but fell spectacularly short and Ned winced a little. “I’m okay they just put… look I don’t want May to see me like… to see… can you just come get me please?” Peter sounded teary again and Ned plucked the phone from his hand to put back to his own ear.

“You’re coming right?”

“On my way,” Happy confirmed. “Give me eight minutes.” And with that he hung up the phone leaving Ned to drop it into his lap.

“I should probably text MJ,” he told Peter, not making any effort to move. “She’ll be pissed if she’s the last to know,” he joked and Peter snorted.

“Probably,” he agreed, letting his eyes slip closed and his breathing even out.

He needed to text MJ, call his mom and let her know Peter was back and that he was going to visit, pull Peter out into the living room to wait for Happy. But, Ned decided as Peter gripped Ned’s hoodie a little tighter, it could wait for just a few more minutes.

[spiderman-homecomeme]

as long as you love me so (let it snow)

🎄The Twelve Days of Promptmas🎄 - Day One

concepts: fireplace cuddles, snowball fight

dialogue: “Why are you staring at me?” “Nothing... You just look really cute right now.”

for @forasecondtherewedwon <3 thank you for the request and for your friendship ily

❆❆❆

There are two things that Peter loves about winter.

One, being the satisfying crunch of fresh snow under his feet as he walks around the park on a chilly night.

And two, being MJ.

Holding MJ's gloved hand as they walk together, swinging their arms between them leisurely as he points to lights in the trees.

The snowflakes that land on MJ's hair, her face, the tip of her nose; watching her blink as they dust over her eyelashes. 

Seeing the peace in her eyes as she looks up to the sky, catching the falling snow with her tongue when she thinks he's not looking. He swears she sparkles more than the snow itself.

Hearing her happy hum as she sidles up beside him, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close, her touch being all that he needs as the temperatures drop.

But his favorite thing of all is kissing her in the snow, her lips warm and soft as the fluffy flakes fall around them.

The chilly weather seems to bring out a side of her that he always loves to see—though, let it be known that he loves to see all sides of her. Michelle in any light is beautiful and perfect. There's a spark of something in her, something mischievous, more daring.

And it comes out now, as they stop on top of the bridge to take in the beauty of this bridge in winter, a good two inches of snow covering the stone railing. Peter's not sure what's more breathtaking—the sea of pretty white lights before them, the hushed blanket that’s fallen over the world as busy as New York City, or MJ surrounded by glistening snow.

There’s a clear winner.

MJ finally catches him staring, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she leans in. Peter's eyes drift closed, his body naturally moving to meet her. He's almost too lost in the warmth of her gloved hand on his cheek, too lost in the way her mouth ghosts over his, her warm breath fanning his face, how he can almost taste the peppermint from her tea—

Too lost to notice the snowball she's packed being smushed against his head.

“HEY!”

Her laugh is bright, a merry sound, one that has his heart doing cartwheels. The way she covers her face with her gloved hand, quickly jumping out of his reach and away; it makes his face warm despite the burning cold on his ear and neck, a pleasant ache in his cheeks from how wide he’s smiling. 

“What the hell?” He asks, brushing the snow from his curls, his lips twisting into a pout as he tries to hold back his own laughter. 

MJ flashes another smile, and his chest swells at the way her tooth pokes through. But she doesn’t say anything else, sticking her tongue out before bending down to gather more snow. 

Two can certainly play at that game. 

Peter’s almost faster, lunging forward, packing snow from the railing into a solid ball. But he’s not fast enough, almost immediately, feeling one hit his shoulder, bursting into a white powder, and he hears a peel of giggles from his girlfriend as she starts to run away. 

And he chases her, the two of them throwing snowball after snowball, until once, when Peter seems to miscalculate how hard he’s actually throwing them, and chucks one right into the side of her face. 

“Fuck!”

“Oh, shit—” Peter freezes, watching as she falls, clutching her cheek, before bolting to her.  He kneels down, a hand on her back. “MJ, baby. I’m so sorry. Oh my God! Are you okay?” 

She’s shaking—with what he assumes to be tears of pain—when she just burrows further into her hand, the other bracing herself on the cold ground. 

“MJ. Babe. Are you okay?” 

And it’s then, when her eyes flash to his, narrowed playfully, a knot twisting in his stomach when he realizes that she’s laughing. In an instant, she’s shoving more snow into his face, nearly tripping on her feet as she scrambles away. She’s cackling as she runs from him, as he chases her, breathless as he tackles her to the ground, pinning her down. 

“Wait! No! Peter! I’m sorry!—” She manages between laughs, squirming as his gloved hands pinch her sides through her fluffy coat. 

“Not cool!” He says, unable to keep himself from laughing along. “That was mean! I thought you were hurt!” 

“To be fair, you were throwing those snowballs a little harder than necessary. I had to teach you a lesson.”

“You started it!” 

Her lips twist into a barely-contained frown, a sad attempt at nonchalance. “I don’t recall.” 

And he kisses her, unable to keep himself from grinning as his lips capture hers, unable to suppress the chuckle bubbling up from his chest when she pushes more snow into his hair. 

“I think it’s time to go home,” he says, pulling away from the kiss, her face glowing as she looks up at him doing more than his coat ever could. 

She shivers as she stands to her feet, her smile unfaltering as he wraps an arm around her. 

They walk home, their step swaying in perfect time with one another. 

It’s truly one of his favorite times of year to spend with MJ—besides all of them. Even in the bitter cold, in the white-out blizzards and crackling ice; none of that matters. There’s a lightheartedness in the air, a joy in the peace and quiet that he can’t quite place. 

Their warmth of their apartment is welcoming, though in all honesty, Peter can’t quite tell the difference, especially with MJ’s hand in his. 

“I’ll get the cocoa, you get the fire?” Peter asks, planting a soft kiss to her temple. 

“You got it, dude,” she replies, punctuating her statement with a chlick, complete with a wink and a wave of finger-guns. 

He laughs, fondly shaking his head as he makes for the kitchen. 

When he returns, two hot mugs in his hands, she’s sat in front of the fireplace, socked feet sticking out in front of her, a deep red fuzzy blanket draped over her shoulders. She pulls it tighter around her, further cocooning herself in the warmth. 

It’s when she looks back that he realizes he’s staring again. He simply smiles, exhaling softly. 

“What?” She asks, squinting at him. “Why are you staring at me?”

Though, she already knows the answer. 

“Nothing…” Peter replies, his voice just above a murmur. “You just look really cute right now.”

A small, somewhat bashful—a word he’d never use aloud—smile tugs at her lips as she looks down at her lap. He sits next to her, passing her hot chocolate covered in tiny marshmallows over carefully. She opens up her blanket, inviting him to snuggle in. 

“Only right now?” She asks after they each take a sip. 

He snorts lightly, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to hold himself together. 

“Not like… Earlier? This morning? Everyday?” 

When he finally stops laughing, he looks at her, so close he can feel and see the warmth from the fire reflecting off of her eyes. And he kisses her again, unable to help himself as he trails his lips to her cheek, her forehead, the tip of her nose—where the snowflakes had touched just ten minutes before. 

“Everyday,” he says.

[actuallybarb]

The Aftermath ~ Part 6

Summary: y/n does nothing to discourage morgan stark from swearing, senior year officially starts, and y/n never considered herself stiles but when peter is lydia she’s alright with it

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, y/n fixing everyone’s problems, trauma

Word Count: 3023

A/N: shit shit shit i love it i’m here for it i shamelessly stole it from Teen Wolf

                                                        ///////////

I stayed at the compound that weekend, working with FRIDAY and Pepper to get the rest of the footage salvaged and try to clear Spider-Man’s name.

“‘Morning, FRIDAY,” I yawned out as I slipped back into the desk chair in the lab Friday morning. “Any progress on the footage from EDITH?”

“We got footage from the bridge, but it doesn’t look too good for Peter.”

My eyebrows furrowed. “Show me.”

I sipped Sokovian tea (Wanda was a genius with tea leaves) as I played the footage over and over again. “Of course it doesn’t look good for Peter, it’s his face.” Peter’s face was telling EDITH to stop all of the drones. But the whole point was so Spider-Man wouldn’t get charged with murder, not proving his true identity. “Well shit.”

“Shit.” I turned in my chair and saw Morgan Stark at the door, a proud grin on her face.

Pepper had brought Morgan by last weekend and she and I had become fast friends. After nearly losing her mind over where her daughter was, Pepper found Morgan happily chasing mini tornadoes I made in the training room. After that, she would ask FRIDAY for periodic updates, but mostly Morgan and I got to run free around the compound.

I pointed a finger at her. “I refuse to be blamed for your foul mouth, got it?” She nodded then ran over and climbed onto my lap, looking at the videos.

“Peter?”

“Yup. And that’s the problem.”

“Why is that a problem?”

“Because in this moment we needed him to have his mask on.”

“But he doesn’t.”

“Now you see the problem.”

“Why can’t we just put his mask on him?”

“Because, Young Stark, that would be considered tampering, and would completely nullify the evidence in a courtroom.”

“So Peter’s stuck being Peter?”

“Peter’s stuck being Peter.”

“Shit.”

“Shit is right.” I looked at her sternly. “No swearing in front of Pepper, got it?” I stuck out my pinky and she wrapped her tiny one around it, squeezing hard. “Let me just email your mom about this, then we can go on an adventure, okay?”

The email took twenty seconds, then Morgan and I were racing through the compound, brushing past anyone who got in our way. We had just turned down an unexplored hallway when we heard sniffles. I screeched to a stop. “Wait right here, Morgan.” One tap of my foot and I ‘saw’ them in a coat closet. And I was pretty sure I already knew who it was. I knocked very lightly on the door. “Peter?”

There was a lot of shuffling, then silence. “Who is it?”

“Y/N.” Morgan stomped her foot. “And Morgan.”

“Oh. Hey, guys.”

“Can I open the door?”

Before he even answered I could tell he was uncomfortable. His heart rate picked up and his fingers started tapping on his knee.

“Hey, Morgan. I’m going to talk to Peter for a little bit. Can you find Wanda until I get back? We can go on our adventure after.” She looked between me and the closet before nodding, running off the same way we came. “Keep an eye on her, FRI.”

Then I opened the door.

How I managed to squeeze inside that closet with Peter already in it was an absolute mystery to me, but I eventually closed the door on myself and let the space be dark.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“What’s up?”

“Not much.”

“Really? That’s good news.”

“Yup, just peachy.”

“Huh, could’ve fooled me. Why are you crying in a closet, then?”

“Oh, you know, just…” He stayed silent.

I nudged his knee with mine. “Talk to me, Pete. It’s just us.”

He sniffled again. “MJ called. She - she, uh. She said— She can’t be with me right now.”

“She broke up with you?” I couldn’t believe my ears. Was I excited? Disappointed? I wouldn’t know.

“She said, with all of this Mysterio stuff still going on, it’s best if we’re not together.” His head dropped to his knees. ”School starts in four days, Y/N. How am I going to face her? How am I going to face anyone?”

His voice and my heart cracked at the end of his sentence. “I don’t know.” I stretched my hand forward and held onto his forearm, slowly running my thumb back and forth. “I’ll be there. Ned will be there. I’ll happily hit anyone in the face who says anything to you.”

He snorted. “You wouldn’t.”

“You weren’t there when I punched Flash.”

His head shot up. “You punched Flash?”

“You see what you miss when you get stopped at the airport?”

He laughed. “That stupid banana.”

I smiled and leaned back, letting my hand fall from his arm. “Have you called Ned?”

He stiffened slightly. “A couple days ago.”

“You should call him. Now you guys have something else in common.” His eyebrows scrunched together. “You both have had girlfriends and broken up with them in the same summer.” He visibly cringed. “Too soon, sorry.” I ended up in a squatting position, one hand on the knob. I grabbed his arm and gave it a small squeeze. “You’re going to be okay, Peter.”

I probably shouldn’t have left him in the closet, but I had a call to make.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“What the fuck, MJ?”

“What?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You broke up with Peter?”

Did I want Peter to be single so I could eventually shoot my shot? Yes. But not like this.

I found a different closet to hide in, pushing myself as far against the wall as possible and hopefully muffling my voice enough no one could hear me.

“You’ve seen everything on the news, Y/N. Spider-Man’s identity revealed, then Spider-Man killing Mysterio, it’s- it’s-“

“You know it’s not true. You know Peter’s Spider-Man and you know he would never hurt a fly, let alone kill Beck, no matter how hurt he was. Beck tried to kill you, and you’re punishing Peter for this?”

“I don’t know what to think! All of this shit about holograms and hallucinations, I can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t. You saw how real that Elemental looked in Prague, you can’t say you’re not a little bit freaked out about this.”

”No, I can’t, but I can’t say that breaking your trust with Peter is the best option right now either.”

There was a deep sigh on the other end of the line. “Take care of him, Y/N. You get him and all of this superhero shit more than I ever will.”

Then she hung up.

She hung up.

Take care of him? What did she think I was doing, huh? What have I been doing this whole time?

I left the closet and made my way to the living room, ready for a six year old distraction. “Morgan?”

“Y/N!” She was sitting beside Peter on the couch, the afternoon sun filtering through her long eyelashes. “Come watch a movie with us.”

“How ‘bout some lunch first?”

“How about lunch and a movie?”

I laughed. “You’re convincing, I’ll give you that. Chicken nuggets?”

“Yeah!”

“Peter, chicken nuggets?”

“Sure.”

Morgan picked Disney movie after Disney movie, her attention never wavering. Once the sun went down, though, my eyes were getting heavy. After so many days of no sleep, my body insisted darkness meant it was time for bed. We were on movie number 4 (Sleeping Beauty, go figure) when my eyes couldn’t stay open. Before I knew it, my breathing had evened out and I only saw the insides of my eyelids.

I woke up the next morning on one of the most comfortable pillows I had ever had, which was saying a lot, ‘cause I had one of those memory foam ones. I could’ve slept on it forever, but then it shifted around and my neck got squished, and—

Wait.

Is this thing moving?

I opened my eyes, and sure enough, it was. I just so happened to be using the legs of none other than Peter Parker for a pillow. How I ended up like that, I have no idea, but my heart was in my throat the second I realized it.

It’s like I was frozen. (I had accidentally frozen myself on more than one occasion, it’s about as fun as you think it would be.) I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, all I could do was watch his chest move as he inhaled. It slowly started to move faster until I could feel his heart rate speeding up, and I knew something was wrong.

“Peter?” I sat up and turned to face him, one hand moving to his shoulder. “Wake up, Peter.” I shook him probably a little too harshly and he started awake, his eyes wild. “Hey.”

“Are you real?”

A nightmare. No wonder he was freaking out, he wasn’t sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“Yeah, I’m real.”

“Can- Can you prove it?” He saw the flash of distrust in my eyes and backtracked instantly. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“

“It’s fine, Pete. Seriously.” He didn’t look like he believed me, so I had to think of something quick that would prove I was real. “Last night, we watched Sleeping Beauty, ‘cause it was Morgan’s fourth request, and you were actually really excited to watch it because you’d never seen it before, and so it starts and you were out in the first fifteen minutes.”

“Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself? Because you were asleep way before I was.”

“You woke up, sure, but you definitely fell asleep before I did.”

He smiled and leaned his head back, but it eventually dropped. He looked at me and asked quietly, “How can you tell? What’s real and what isn’t?”

The sun was barely peaking over the horizon when I answered. “The bending. People move a specific way, even just how they walk and how they stand, and it can’t be mimicked. Beck tried it, he tried to make himself look like you, but it just felt wrong. Everything is slightly off when what I’m seeing isn’t reality.”

He grumbled, “Wish I could do that.”

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “You can, Peter. You already have half of it down, you just have to pay attention to it.”

“What do you mean?” He was fully sitting up at this point, his entire body engaged in my every word.

“You have heightened senses, right? Which makes the hallucinations ten times worse for you.” He nodded. “You can use those to your advantage. Heartbeats, footsteps, shifts in the dirt, they’re all jumbled together until you can differentiate between people. It takes a lot of concentration and time, but it eventually becomes second nature.” I was tapping the cushion with every other finger, a trick I picked up from my shrink after The Blip first happened. It used to be a coping mechanism, now it’s just a habit when I zone out.

“Can you teach me?”

His eyes were bright. How could I say no to him when he was looking at me like that? You did, Y/N, like three weeks ago. Okay, but those were life-threatening circumstances. This is different.

“Sure. But not today.” I stood up and stretched completely, then checked the time on the oven. Seven twenty-seven. I could get home just after eight if I left right now.

I made it at eight, right on the dot.

////////////

Stepping off the subway, I knew school was going to be rough. Not just that day, but the week, the month, the semester, the year. Senior year was supposed to be enjoyable, right? After the last few disasters Mr. Harrington has been apart of on his school trips, they all but banned us from going on any more of them. Not that I really minded, except for the senior trip we were supposed to have right after graduation. Summer was exciting enough for a lifetime, I didn’t need any more repeats of that.

I walked into the building, headphones in but no music playing. There was Brad, leaning against the locker of some poor unassuming junior. Flash, his camera on, documenting the last first day of high school. MJ, her own pair of headphones in, made eye contact with me briefly, then looked down at her phone again just as fast. Peter and Ned, slightly more solemn than usual, standing at their lockers, comparing class schedules.

My locker was only a few down from them, so I said hello before passing by, the three-number code learned by heart.

I sensed Peter and Ned before I ever heard them. “If I concentrate any harder on these footsteps I’m going to lose my mind.” He had texted me all weekend asking about how to learn movement patterns and footsteps, so he was obviously practicing my tips.

I laughed. “Yeah, duh, Peter, even I don’t know what everyone moves like. The trick is to learn the people you’re close to, then learn to pick them out of a crowd. Start with someone you see a lot of, who you’re familiar with, then work from there.”

“Ooh.”

I looked over at Ned. “How was the rest of your summer, Ned? Any more girlfriends?”

“No, I’m still a bachelor. I think I’ll stay this way for a while - strong independent man who doesn’t need a woman. But, I mean, if someone comes along, it’s not like I’ll say no.”

“I respect the hustle. Don’t tie yourself down, Ned.”

“Thank you, Y/N, I really appreciate that.” The bell rang and he looked down at his schedule. “I have physics, I’ll see you guys later.”

“What do you have?”

I looked at my own schedule, nearly running into someone as we walked through the hall. “Spanish. You?”

“Spanish.” I grabbed his sheet of paper and compared them.

“No fucking way.” We had every single class together.

Every.

Single.

Class.

Pepper.

“What is it?”

“We have every class together.”

“No way.” He grabbed the papers from my hands and looked over them himself. “The chances of this happening are—“

“Minuscule.”

He just shrugged it off. “Nice to have a familiar face in the crowd.”

I shot Pepper a quick text before we walked into Spanish.

Really, you have us in every class together?

I’m worried about him, Y/N. Frankly, I’m worried about you, too. Just keep an eye out for each other, okay?

Yeah yeah sure.

This school year just got a whole lot more interesting.

/////////

I guess I could consider Flash a friend. He was nice enough not to post the video he had of me being an Elemental and he let me use his shoulder as a pillow on the flight home. The only communication we had over the rest of the summer was me commenting something on his Instagram story and him replying. So I was a little surprised when he took a seat beside me in chemistry, but not disappointed.

“Do you and Parker have every class together?”

“Yup.”

“Shit that sucks.”

“He’s alright, Eugene, maybe one day you’ll realize that.”

“I can’t believe Mysterio tried to say Parker was Spider-Man. I mean, can you think of a less-likely candidate?”

I rolled my eyes. “Stop insulting my friends, Eugene, or I’ll make you move seats and do this class on your own.”

He shut up for a little bit, but when we got a review sheet to do that went over all of last year’s class, he started whispering. “Are you still, you know, turning into monsters and knocking people into rivers?” He hissed in pain as my foot connected with his shin. “Okay, I’ll take that as a no.”

“I’m not talking about this with you,” I whispered.

“It was fucking badass, Y/N.” Another hiss of pain.

“People died, Eugene. Do you not get that? People died because of me. All of the people in our trip could have died and it would have been my fault.” The bell rang and I nearly sprinted out of the class.

My heart was beating too fast, my breathing was too shallow. I knew those were a bad combination, but I couldn’t stop. The room was spinning and I couldn’t feel the ground underneath me and holy shit am I falling?

Someone grabbed my arm and pulled me through a door, and as much as I wanted to pull away I knew I could trust whoever it was.

“Breathe with me, Y/N, okay?”

Peter.

“Just breathe with me.”

I tried. You have no idea how badly I wanted to stop feeling like that. But my body couldn’t catch up to my brain and that freaked me out even more and now I was getting lightheaded. “I- I-“

And then a completely new sensation filled my brain. Lips. Soft - maybe a little chapped - lips were on mine.

I didn’t need help breathing anymore because Peter Parker literally took my breath away.

He pulled away, but I kept my eyes closed. Maybe if I keep them closed I can hold onto it just a little bit longer.

“You okay?”

God his voice was so soft. I just wanted to wrap myself in it and take a nap.

“Did you get that from Teen Wolf?”

Smooth, Y/N, real smooth.

Shut up.

“Ye- yeah, I did.”

I sighed in relief. “Thanks. For stopping it.”

“No problem.”

“How’d you know?”

“Teen Wolf.”

“No, how’d you know I was having a panic attack?”

“Oh. Your- your heartbeat, actually. We have every class together, so yours has been the easiest to learn so far. Then I heard it beating like crazy so I knew something was up.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“No.”

“Want to talk about it?”

I thought about it for a second. “Maybe later, when we’re not sitting on the floor of an empty classroom.”

He laughed. “Okay.” He stood up and gave me his hand, pulling me to my feet. “C’mon, we’re late for English.” He led the way down the nearly empty hallway, while I pulled out my phone and sent one more text to Pepper.

Okay, it was a good idea.

tags: @eridanuswave​ @vampirestrawberries​

[tonystarkstan]

It’s Astronomy class that sends Peter spiraling.

He took the class for fun. While it’s not really necessary for his major, he’s always loved space and math, and a break from the more grueling science courses he’s currently taking is welcome.

College has not exactly been kind to Peter. And, really, life hasn’t spared him much kindness anyway, but trying to navigate PTSD, depression, anxiety, and taking a break from Spider-Man is much harder away from the comfort of his own home. Away from Tony and May.

To be fair, Peter does like college. The freedom isn’t really anything new, since both May and Tony have always granted him more freedom than the typical teenager, but he loves diving deeper in his classes, loves learning the ins and outs of everything. And he likes the distraction, the chance to feel like a normal kid and not like someone who’s seen the horrors of war.

But he misses his friends, and he misses May and Tony, and he misses Spider-Man. He’s glad for the break, but he misses being useful.

He misses eating ice cream out of the tub with May at one in the morning when she gets home from work, exhausted, and he misses lab days with Tony. He misses watching movies with Ned and hanging out with MJ. And he misses hugs that keep him together when he wakes up with bad brain days prying his chest open.

Like today.

At first, it’s manageable. At first, he’s able to lift himself out of bed, even with remnants of red still playing behind his eyelids, unwilling to be rubbed away. And maybe he has to focus a little extra on keeping his breaths even and moving his feet that feel like lead because they just want him to stop moving, but it’s fine. He’s gotten better at living with the black hole in the middle of his chest.

He gets through his first class of the day, organic chemistry, well enough. He’s lucky enough that the subject has always come second nature to him, and today is just a lecture—no lab—so it’s okay if he zones out a little. It’s all fine.

Until he gets to Astronomy class. Nothing out of the ordinary happens. In fact, it’s almost boring. He likes his professor a lot, and today she shows them a clip of a documentary to explain a concept they’re learning.

On the screen, an astronomer is talking about a cluster of stars they’ve been watching for about two decades, orbiting a black hole near the center of the galaxy. One such star, she explains, called S0-2 is the closest of its neighbors to the black hole. As it approaches, a phenomenon called “gravitational redshift” occurs.

Put simply, it’s losing energy.

Peter’s brain takes in the information and runs with it.

When the professor dismisses them, he sits there for a moment, thinking and thinking and thinking. Thinking about how achingly lonely that star must be, how helpless, as the black hole slowly reels it in. He thinks about the people who have watched it happen over the course of decades, fascinated by the tragedy playing out before them.

I need to tell Tony, he thinks. Peter can’t pinpoint why, but it suddenly feels extremely important that he tells Tony. He needs him to know about the star S0-2.

He’s quick to gather up his bag and leave the building, and he fumbles with his phone, nearly dropping it as he searches for Tony’s name in his contacts. And all he can think is, Is S0-2 even there anymore? Or have we been watching the corpse of a star all this time, the real thing having been spaghettified and swallowed whole already? And what if—

“Peter?”

He didn’t even realize he’d pressed the ‘Call’ button already.

“Hello?” he answers, like it’s a question. As if Tony’s the one who called him.

“Hey, kid,” Tony says cautiously. “You okay?”

Peter thinks about S0-2, and he feels an inexplicaple sense of grief well inside of him. He doesn’t know how to explain it, he doesn’t know why it hurts so much. Why he can’t leave it in the classroom like he does with carbon chains and Hardy-Weinberg equations.

“There’s a star called S0-2. She’s losing energy,” Peter tells Tony, because this is important. He needs Tony to know this.

“Yeah?” Tony asks, voice tense.

“Yeah. We learned about her today during class. She’s orbiting a black hole. Astronomers have been watching her for twenty years,” Peter tells him. He doesn’t even notice he’s stopped walking, now standing under a large oak in the empty, spacious courtyard.

“You’re upset,” Tony observes, and Peter runs a distressed hand through his hair.

“It’s just that—there’s nothing they can do. They just have to—to let it happen. And for all we know it’s already happened and we’re just watching it on rewind,” Peter tells him, not even noticing as his voice pitches higher. “It’s inevitable. She’s going to lose more and more energy and then one day, the astronomers are going to find her gone because she’s no match for all that darkness.”

“Peter.”

“Do—do you think she’s scared?” Peter asks, and his chest feels like it’s cracking open. He thinks about that fucking star, fighting and fighting to keep her light and her energy, and he thinks about the Snap that tore him to pieces no matter how hard he tried to stay together.

He remembers the very moment he realized it was going to happen anyway.

(It makes sense, he thinks. We were made from stars; it figures we’d meet the same end as them.)

“Peter,” Tony repeats, and this time his voice sounds impossibly close. He flinches when he feels a hand land on his shoulder, and he whirls around to find Tony standing behind him, suit retracting.

“Tony,” Peter says desperately, trying to get him to understand, not even registering that Tony’s flown from home, away from Morgan and Pepper, to see him. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

Tony slides the hand on his shoulder up to cup his cheek, looking Peter straight in the eye.

“Peter, look at me,” he says, voice pitched low. “Neither did you.”

Peter inhales sharply, wrapping his arms around himself. He feels the darkness in his chest expand and he looks at Tony with pleading eyes.

“You don’t understand. What if—what if I’m the black hole? And I’m just draining and draining and taking everyone’s energy?” he asks, and Tony crouches down to eye level in front of him.

“Peter, Peter, stop. Listen to me,” Tony says firmly. “You are not S0-2. You are not the black hole it’s orbiting. You’re a human,” Tony tells him, gently shaking his shoulders for emphasis. “You’re Peter Parker. And you’re going to get through this. You know why?”

Peter shakes his head, swiping a hand messily across his cheeks, not even realizing he’s been crying.

“Because I’m here,” Tony says, so certain. Unwavering. “And no black hole or god or even yourself can change that. Not if I can help it.”

Peter’s chest heaves, face crumpling, and Tony doesn’t hesitate before pulling him in. Later, Peter will be thankful that the courtyard is cleared, that no one but Tony is around to see him break.

And Tony—Tony is a calm, steady presence in front of him. He doesn’t say anything; he just holds Peter close until all the darkness bleeding out of him recedes, and depression’s gravity loosens it’s hold, just a little.

When Peter finally pulls away, Tony gives him a soft smile and a moment to compose himself. But there’s one more question tugging at him, something he can’t let go of.

“Tony?” Peter asks, voice small.

“Yeah, Pete?”

“Do you think S0-2 would think it was all worth it?” he asks, feeling stupid. But Tony’s face softens with understanding.

“Yeah, Peter,” he says, completely certain. “I think she would.”

(Maybe we won’t get beautiful ends. Maybe our friendships will die and our families will fall apart. Maybe we’ll meet an ugly death. But the beautiful in the middle? That’s worth every bit of it.)

[starkeysgrl]

You're Not The Only One

A/n: Hey :) so I'm not exactly new to tumblr, but new to posting what I write here. Hope you enjoy! 💖

Word count: 1,8k

Contains: a lot of angst, pop culture references, but I promise there's fluff in the end.

Saying that you were in love with Peter Parker was an understatement, you were head over heels, all the cheesy songs you can name it, that was how you felt about him.

Letting your feelings aside for the nerdy boy was definetly one of the hardest things you went through in high school, seeing him getting his first kiss, first girlfriend, but no matter how smart he was, he couldn't see the way you were falling for him.

Now, in college, seeing Peter going on dates was one thing, but him asking if your friend was single? It hurt you like when One Direction went on hiatus.

"Hey y/n" he smiled, god you fucking loved and hated that smile, at the same time. How was it possible to get all giggly just thinking about the way he said your name?

"Hey Pete, what's up?" You said taking a sip of your drink and thinking about how easy it would be having someone like Peter by your side.

"Nothing much, can I ask you something?" Oh no, what did he do? Oh he looks definetly nervous, but also cute, the way he looks confused on why you are taking so long to answer, enough daydreaming from now on.

"Yeah sure" he looks around just to check if someone is around, did he kill someone? Well that would be kinda hard considering that he can't kill a spider, cause according to him that would be "killing his own kind", whatever that means, sometimes I think he's hiding something.

"Ok cool i-is y/f/n single?" Waitwaitwait, he's talking about another y/f/n, it's not your friend, chill.

"You mean my friend?" Now it was your time to be the oblivious one.

"I mean if you think it's weird it's ok, I don't mind, it's just that since I hooked you up with one of my friends one time, I was wondering if you could do the same?" Yeah, that shit hurt more than watching a great show but with one of the worst finales.

"Oh yeah, sure, and she's single, I'll talk to her later and then I text you." Peter hugged you so hard that you couldn't breathe properly, sometimes you wonder where all that strenght came from.

"Thank you so so much" he smiled "And btw, Brad's single again, if you want me to call him" Oh Brad, the same stupid guy who thought North Pole was an urban legend. But here's why you dated him for a while, Peter had a new girlfriend, and you were starting to feel left off, so you decided to take your shot and go on some dates. Brad was your middle school crush, and you kinda owned your 11 year old self, so when Peter told you about Brad being in town, you asked him to hook you both up.

Everything was great, until he would open his mouth. You really wanted to break up with him after your fourth date, but breaking up with someone on his birthday wouldn't be really nice, and then his family came to meet you, then the holidays, until you decided to tell him why you couldn't be with him, no matter how hard you tried, it was impossible to forget Peter Parker.

"Oh no I'm good, but thank you though." You smiled faking the whole thing, it gets easier with years pretending you are not madly in love with your best friend.

Needless to say your friend was confused as fuck when you asked her if she wanted to go out with Peter.

"Ok is this a prank? Is this a trap?" Y/f/n stopped watching her movie to turn around and look at you.

"It's not a prank, I'm ok with that, Peter asked and- doesn't matter, I want you to go, if you want to, of course" Getting out of her bed, she hugged you.

"Oh honey" oh no, not the pity voice. "I'm so sorry, I know how much you like him" you stopped hugging her before she realized you were almost crying on her shoulder.

"It's fine, really, it'd be good for me to move on, it's been way too long and you deserve someone like him" your friend looked surprised, not knowing if you were telling the truth since you were too busy staring at the white walls in her dorm room.

And pointless to say that you spent the night crying and watching Love, Rosie.

"Stupid fucking movie that shit doesn't happen in real life and everyone knows it!" Yelling at the top of your lungs to your laptop screen..

-------------------------------------------‐------

Peter kept telling all the jokes you told him, pretending that they were his, at least this way he could feel you closer to him. He wonders why you've been acting so strange lately.

And your friend keeps laughing, because alcohol has that affect on people, making you forget what you were worried about, making you say things you are not supposed to...

"So, Peter" y/f/n says while drinking her scotch neat "Are you sure y/n was ok with, you know, you asking me out?"

"Yeah she was super cool about it"

"Bet she lied." she mumbles while suddently finding incredibly interesting her glass, little did she know that the boy sitting next to her had enhanced hearing.

"Wha-why? Why would she lie?" Shock crossed Peter's face, almost as fast as realization hit him.

"I gotta go, I'm sorry" too early to swing with civilians around, too late to walk till your dorm room, so Peter decides to catch a cab. Wait could it be? No that would make no sense, why would you let him ask your friend out then? And before he can realize what he's about to do, he's already in campus searching for your dorm.

---------------------------------------------------

"NOT AGAIN gotta be kidding me, why do you keep chasing someone who doesn't want you?" Oh, ok, you get it, let's not yell to characters anymore.

Wiping your tears for the eleventh time that night, hearing a knock on your door. You decide to ignore, finishing How I met your mother was more important.

"Y/n it's Peter" oh no. Trying to brush your hair with your fingers so that you didn't look like a total mess to the cute guy you love, you open the door.

"Hey Pete, what's up?" You couldn't deny your puffy eyes but you can always blame it on rom coms. Peter felt like shit thinking about being the reason you had been crying all night. You wiped your eyes but the tears came anyway. Peter needed to ask you what was going on, but he also needed to be there as your friend. He opened his arms, and you fell into his embrace.

"You can let it out" he whispered while caressing your hair.

---------------------------------------------------

After what felt like hours, now sitting on your bed, you finally looked at Peter and was ready to ask why he left so early from his date, but almost like he could read your mind, he decided to ask first.

"Y/n?" You looked at his brown curls, wondering what was like to run your fingers through his hair.

"Yeah?"

"Hm d-do you like me? Like more than friends" Oh shit you're gonna kill y/f/n and her drunk-ass self.

"Whaat?" Your voice went high pitched. So many years lying to your parents but you can't do that to Peter, he knows you more than you know yourself.

"S-so you do like me?" It was his time to sound like he was going through puberty all over again.

Too embarrassed to say something, you just nod and get ready for the "I like you too, but just as a friend", instead you get a nervous Peter.

"Ok what I'm about to tell you is my biggest secret and you can't tell this to anyone"

"Peter I know you know all the choreographies from high school musical, I still accept you" putting your arm around his shoulders.

"I'm not talking about- wait how do you know that? Doesn't matter we'll get back to there later" he fidgets with his hands. "I'm spiderman" before you can interrupt him, he starts talking faster and faster. "I know it's gonna sound totally crazy, but I got bit by a spider at 15, and, well, that explains why I am more... muscular?" He cringes at his words but decides to go on "Also why I aciddently broke your sink while supporting my hand on it, and I can explain everything, I swear" Trying to understand while Peter talked at the speed of light , you finally had answers for what you were searching for.

"Ok... So it was a secret for a secret? Like you finding out about me having a crush on you since I was 14, so you tell me that you are a superhero??"

"Wait I'm not done yet" he takes another deep breath before singing rap god, again. "Being spiderman is extremely dangerous and I didn't want to put you in danger too, I love you too much for that." here it comes, as a friend. "Way more than a friend" before you can ask if Peter was joking, he continues. "And it's already too much that May knows, Ned knows, MJ knows, they are all in danger because of me" now it's Peter's turn to start crying. "I couldn't do the same with you, so I had to pretend I wasn't upset when you had your first kiss, and it wasn't with me, when you had your first boyfriend, all your firsts didn't have a different affect each time, all of them hurt like hell the same way" You are not the only one who's oblivious towards someone else's feelings, and I'm sorry for that, but the risk of putting you in danger, wouldn't let me do anything about the way I felt- I mean, feel about you. I lost way too many important people in my life, I couldn't bear losing you too." He sobbed while wiping his tears. "But now that I know you feel the same, suddently everything is worth fighting for. I love you so much, and- Peter's words were cut by your warm lips meeting his.

Time is relative. You never understood Einstein's theory, until now.

“Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. That's relativity.”

After what felt like a few seconds, but was actually hours, you both pull away with the biggest grin.

"Wanna go out sometime? I know spiderman." He whispers the last part while laughing at his own joke.

"Sure, can I bring Brad?" Peter gasps, pretending to be offended.

"How dare you? At least choose someone who knows geography."