#muse;; my only curse is you (tony stark) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flourgirl · 4 years

Text

Sleepyhead

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter will try just about anything to help out the very pretty insomniac from his math class.

Work Count: 11.2k

Warnings: Just some sweet, pure fluff with a few curse words every now and then.

A/N: Either the tags aren’t working for me or you guys just didn’t like it, but the final part of “Even If It’s a Lie” has been out for a few days now if anyone’s interested in reading it 🥺 Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this super long piece I’ve been working on to help me get through finals <3

“Touch you softly I call you up late at night No doubt it isn't right But you could be my one and only” -Softly, Clairo

Peter had seen you around campus a few times, but it wasn’t until you started sitting two rows ahead of him in his linear algebra class that he really started to notice you.

He thought you were really pretty, and he liked how cozy you always looked in the puffy winter coat you kept on in the perpetually freezing lecture hall. You took a lot of notes, which told him that you cared about the class, and never showed up without a giant cup of iced coffee.

You’re being a creep, Peter told himself. He had thought about switching seats to somewhere in front of you, so he could actually listen to his professor discuss permutations instead of staring at how you chewed on the end of your pen when you were thinking.

It was even worse when you started sleeping in class, your soft hair falling around your shoulders as you leaned your head against your desk. It seemed like all the coffee in the world couldn’t keep you awake, and Peter wondered if he should ask if you wanted to borrow his notes or something. But that would mean him admitting to looking at you way more than he needed to, and that was weird, so he quickly dropped the idea.

Still, he was worried about you. So when he came back from patrol in the middle of the night and bumped into you outside of the dorm kitchen, he figured it would be the perfect opportunity to introduce himself and maybe even find out why you were so tired all the time.

The only problem was that he had accidentally knocked your pan of banana bread out of your hands, and you were currently staring at it laying on the floor with your sleepy eyes, not saying anything.

“Shit, uh, I’m so sorry,” he told you, crouching down to scoop up the remnants of your late-night snack into the pan. “Were you really up baking at 3 a.m?”

You blushed a little, starstruck that the cute guy from your math class was talking to you. “Um, yeah. I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d come down to the kitchen while nobody else was here and make something. Baking always helps me calm down, and so here I am. And here we are. And there’s my bread, all covered in whatever kind of dust the custodians refuse to sweep down here.”

He offered a soft smile, and it made you feel better about the fact that you were rambling way more than you wanted to.

“I’m Y/N,” you continued, gently taking the pan from his hands. “You’re in linear algebra with Professor Meyers, right?”

“Yeah, you, um, you sit right in front of me. Well, not right in front of me. Two rows in front of me. Shit. I’m not creepy, I promise. It’s just… uh… My name is Peter and I’m going to stop talking now.”

That couldn’t have possibly gone any worse, he thought. You were probably thinking he was a serial killer or something.

“It’s okay. I know you sit behind me,” you reassured him. “You answer a lot of questions.” He was cute and smart, and you hoped he couldn’t notice how flustered you were to be this close to him.

“What are you doing up so late?” he asked, which made you laugh at how ironic his concerns were, considering he was also wandering around the dorm basement at this hour.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, sitting on one of the benches that jutted out of the walls of the corridor. “I mean, you’re here too. At least I was baking. What’s up with you?”

You had a point. “I had an emergency… with my internship. I work for Stark Industries, and Mr. Stark rang me in the middle of the night to come to the lab immediately for something, so, yeah. That’s why I’m awake right now.”

“Okay,” you said, not buying his story. “So that’s why you have a black eye and you’re lurking in the basement hallway? Did Tony Stark punch you?”

Fuck. Did he really have a black eye and not notice? He didn’t think that Doc Oc’s stupid mechanical arm had punched him that hard, but apparently, he was wrong. And now he had to come up with some reason as to where it came from, although he could already tell that you were about to call his bluff.

The only solution he could think of was to change the subject. “Why are you always asleep during class?” he blurted out, causing you to give him a funny look before frowning down at your slippers.

“Isn’t it obvious,” you yawned, stretching your arms out in front of you. “I’m an insomniac. It’s actually kind of funny. I never really had any problems with falling asleep until I moved here. Maybe it’s the cold weather or the constant pressure to get good grades, but I just can’t sleep anymore. It sucks.”

Normally, you’d never tell this much about yourself to somebody, let alone a complete stranger. But somehow, you felt really comfortable around Peter. There was just something about him that made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Peter caught himself staring at you again, your baby pink pajamas a far departure from how put together your usual outfits were. Even without your makeup or hair done, you were still the prettiest girl he had ever seen. For some reason, even the dark circles under your eyes were really cute to him.

“You never answered my question,” you reminded him, hoping that he’d say something to fill the awkward silence. “What’s with the black eye and wandering around in the middle of the night? Are you some kind of superhero?”

“What? No! That’s crazy. Me, a superhero,” he laughed awkwardly, wondering if you had somehow figured out his secret identity. Had you spotted him that one time he made sure that you and your friends got home safely from a late-night study session? Even so, you totally couldn’t have known it was him, right?

“Relax, I’m just joking,” you giggled, thinking about how cute he looked when he was flustered. “Although my friend did tell me she thought she saw Spider-Man a few weeks ago on her way back from a party.”

“Haha, yeah,” he breathed out, a wave of relief washing over him. It was times like these that he really started to appreciate how well-hidden his muscles were underneath all of his oversized sweaters.

“Does that hurt?” you asked, bringing your hand up to lightly brush his lip, which was bleeding. He flinched instinctively before settling under your touch, your eyes focused on the small cut. “I have a first aid kit in my room if you want some help cleaning it up.”

“Oh, no, it’s cool. I wouldn’t want to bother your roommate,” Peter told you, scooting further away on the bench, nearly falling off the edge of it. Ned hated it when he stumbled in at some ungodly hour after patrol and woke him up.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, standing up and gesturing for him to follow you. “I have a single.”

Peter looked at you in awe. Freshmen never got rooms to themselves, and yet somehow you had one. “Okay, fine. But only because I’ve never actually seen a single in this building before.”

“That’s cool with me,” you smiled, reaching for his hand so he could keep up with your pace. He noticed that you were chewing some of the banana bread, which he really hoped was from the part that didn’t fall on the floor. To be fair though, it did smell really good.

Not only did you have a single, but you lived on the first floor. Peter couldn’t believe how lucky you were, considering the building that the two of you lived in didn’t have any elevators to traverse its seven floors.

He was even more shocked when you opened your door, revealing the coziest dorm room he had ever seen. How on earth did you transform the glorified prison cell into something that felt so... comforting? From the twinkling lights that were wrapped around everything and the soft rug under his feet, Peter found it really hard to believe that you had trouble sleeping here.

“Sorry, it’s a bit messy,” you apologized, piling your many throw pillows and blankets into a basket to clear up some space on your bed. “You can sit here.”

If this was messy, then Peter and Ned’s room needed some serious help. “No worries,” he said, watching as you rummaged around your drawers in search of your first aid kit.

Eventually, you found it hidden under a bunch of graph paper and colored pencils, untouched ever since your overprotective grandparents had helped you move in. “Here we go,” you mused, now looking inside it for alcohol wipes and band-aids.

He winced as you rubbed the little cloth against his lips, and you made sure to be more gentle as you cleaned up the other cuts on his face. Thankfully, nothing was bad enough to require stitches, something you were seriously under-qualified to do.

All Peter could focus on the entire time was how close you were and what it would be like to just kiss you right then and there, but he knew that was way too forward of him. Plus, he didn’t even know if you liked him like that. Surely you were just being nice.

Still, the way he caught you staring into his brown eyes after smoothing a band-aid on his forehead made him think otherwise.

“You’re going to have to tell me eventually who beat you up,” you sighed, gathering up wrappers to throw away and tucking the first aid kit back into its place in your drawers.

“It’s a long story,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your stare.

“I’ve got time,” you replied, climbing onto your lofted bed to sit next to him, innocently brushing your bare leg against his jeans, which made his breath hitch. “Tell me about it.”

“Uh, how about another time?” he stammered, hopping off the bed and running his hand through his hair. “After class tomorrow, or something. It’s getting pretty late. We should, um, go to sleep.”

“You can stay here if you want,” you offered, his eyes widening at your invitation. “On the bean bag, I mean. It’s actually really comfortable. You mentioned something about bothering your roommate and I figured that maybe you’d like to avoid the trouble tonight.”

“Oh…” Peter hesitated, looking for a reason to say no. He knew he’d never be able to sleep knowing that you were in the same room as him. “I don’t have any pajamas.”

“True,” you agreed, a little disappointed that he wasn’t interested in sticking around.

“I don’t actually even wear pajamas to sleep,” he continued, making you look back up at him instead of playing with the hem of your shirt. “It’s just… I sleep in my boxers.”

“I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable situation,” you sighed, your face hot with embarrassment.

“It’s not that! I mean, I do want to stay here. But, uh, you… well, you make me really nervous, Y/N,” he muttered, his glance bouncing around the room.

“Why?” you asked, your brows furrowing. “Did I do something?”

“No, no! Nothing at all. I promise, okay?”

“Okay. You can, um, get ready for bed, I guess. I promise not to look,” you assured him, turning on your side to face the wall.

“Thanks. Yeah, alright.” You heard him fumbling with his clothes, his sneakers making a soft thud on your floor. You did your best to resist the urge to glance back at him.

“Can I just use any of these?” he asked, although you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Peter, I’m not looking, remember? You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“The blankets. Do I just pick one, or are you particular about them?”

“Oh. You can use whichever one you want to. But the coral one’s the softest and my personal favorite.” Peter stared at the basket in confusion. To him, they were all just pink. But based on touch alone, he pulled one out that he figured was a little more orange than the others.

He walked over to the light switch and flipped off the overhead fluorescents, letting the room be illuminated by the warm glow of your fairy lights, which weren’t too bright, but still twinkly and beautiful.

“Goodnight, Peter,” you whispered, snuggling into your comforter in the hopes that your heartbeat would slow down and let you fall asleep for once.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” In a matter of minutes, you could hear his soft snoring, and you figured that it would be okay just to take a quick peek since he’d probably be bundled up in one of your blankets.

His hair was perfectly messy, and he looked so cozy wrapped up in the blanket you had recommended. Still, as much as you could stare at his adorable face all night, you were exhausted. Burying your face under the covers, you did your best to calm your nerves and get some rest before class tomorrow.

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

“Peter,” you whispered, jostling him lightly by the shoulders in the hopes of waking him up. “Uh, we have an hour before class. I was thinking that it would be enough time for you to go shower and change, and then we could go get coffee or something.”

He blinked back up at you, amazed at how well he slept on your bean bag. You had already gotten ready for the day, doing your makeup and picking out one of your many fluffy sweaters to keep you warm in the New York snow.

“Thanks, that sounds awesome,” he yawned, accepting the hand you held out to help him up. The blanket fell, and you stared at each other in shock, having forgotten that Peter was in nothing but his underwear.

You dropped his hand as fast as you could, covering your eyes. “Oh my god! I’m sorry. Shit, I completely forgot, Peter. I’m so sorry. I’ll let you get dressed.”

Peter watched as you stumbled around the room, your eyes squeezed tightly as your hands attempted to guide you away from him.

“Y/N,” he started, catching your attention as you nearly ran into your bed frame. “You can open your eyes. Really, I don’t care if you see me like this if it means I can keep you from breaking your nose.”

You hesitantly opened your eyes, relieved that Peter had already managed to pull his pants back on. Still, he was completely shirtless, and you found yourself staring at the abs you would have never expected to be hiding underneath his clothes.

Moments later, you averted your gaze, although you knew that he probably noticed you looking at where was now covered by his plaid button-down and dark blue sweater.

“I’ll, um, be right back,” he muttered, before practically sprinting out of your room and up the stairs. You groaned in embarrassment, burying your face in a pillow before attempting to take a quick twenty-minute power nap.

Peter couldn’t believe it. Sure, he had thought one time about you seeing him without clothes on, but this wasn’t how he thought it would go at all. Still, the image of you staring at him shirtless, your face flushed, made him feel like he was going to have a heart attack.

“Dude! There you are,” Ned screamed, startled at his roommate’s unexpected entrance. Peter panted, having run up four flights of stairs as fast as he could. “Wait a second. Did you finally get laid? Is this a walk of shame?”

Before Ned could praise him any further, Peter was grabbing a change of clothes and sprinting towards the bathroom. Don’t think about her, he begged himself.

The memory of your leg touching his last night immediately came to mind, and Peter was so angry at himself for being this starved for physical intimacy. To be fair, though, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and so he cut himself some slack.

Shit, he told himself, making sure the water was set to cold. He needed to calm down, but instead, his thoughts were stuck on how good you looked in your pajamas, but also how good you would look without them and—fuck it.

Peter liked you a lot, and if thinking about you like this in private kept him from being a complete weirdo in person, then maybe he just needed to get his feelings of desperation over with.

When he came back down to your room about thirty minutes later, you were still super tired. You trudged your way towards the door, your hair now noticeably messier than earlier, but at least that meant your nap had been a success.

His hair was still damp and this time he was wearing yet another blue sweater, which made you wonder if he ever wore any other color. He had his backpack slung over one of his shoulders and a nervous smile on his face as he locked eyes with you.

“Hey,” he said, pushing some of his hair out of his face. “Are you ready to go?”

You leaned against the doorway a little bit, letting out a yawn that was literally the cutest noise Peter had ever heard in his life. “Yeah, let me get my backpack.”

“It’s so heavy,” you continued, rightfully complaining as the weight of all its contents practically pulled you downwards. “I think it’s so stupid how almost every professor bans computers from class. Like, it’s not fair that I have to lug around three textbooks every day. I don’t have time to run back to my dorm in between classes like some people!”

Peter frowned. Three textbooks were nothing to him, but he knew that you didn’t have spidey-strength and that you were also pretty tiny compared to him. It must’ve been hell on your back to be carrying all that stuff around every day.

“I can carry it for you,” he offered, holding out his hand to switch with you. “Here, you can take my backpack if it’ll make you feel better. I have a lot of programming classes today, so I’ve only got my laptop and a notebook in there.”

You gave him a look of gratitude as he traded bags with you, literally taking the weight off your shoulders. He was right. His backpack was much more manageable for you, even if the dark grey contrasted with the light colors you always wore.

In contrast, it looked kind of odd for him to be walking around with a backpack that was covered in a soft pink floral pattern, much like everything else you owned, but the sight of him carrying your books brought a smile to your face.

It was one of the sweetest things a guy had ever done for you, and Peter wasn’t even your boyfriend. He probably didn’t even think of you in that way.

“Uh, where do you usually get coffee?” he asked, slowing his pace so you could keep up. He felt bad seeing how tired you were, no doubt due to the lack of sleep you got last night.

“The Starbucks next to Hendrie Hall,” you replied, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “You?”

“I don’t drink coffee,” he admitted. “I’m actually more of a tea person.”

“Oh,” you hesitated, wondering if it was worth it to walk all the way across campus just for a caramel ribbon crunch frappuccino. “We could go somewhere closer then.”

“It’s okay,” Peter reassured you, grabbing your hand and pulling you along to your destination. “I like walking.”

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

You hadn’t really talked to Peter since that morning before class, but sometimes you would peek behind you and catch him stealing glances at you. Eventually, he had started to feel brave enough to give you a little wave whenever you caught him looking at you. Well, at least the times when you were awake.

One day, not even the loud shuffling and growing chatter of your classmates exiting the lecture hall could wake you up, and Peter figured he better do something before you got chewed out by one of the TAs.

“Y/N?” he said, leaning closer so that you could hopefully hear him. “Y/N. You gotta wake up. Class ended three minutes ago.”

He shook you a little bit, nervously hoping that you wouldn’t mind him touching you. Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled softly as soon as you realized it was Peter.

“Oh. Thanks,” you said, standing up to slide your empty notebook into your backpack. Your hand brushed the side of your mouth, making sure you hadn’t drooled onto yourself.

“You can borrow my notes,” he offered, glancing at you sheepishly as you gathered up your coat and fixed your hair. “If you want to.”

“That’d be great,” you sighed, wondering whether you should skip your next class and just go take a nap. At this point, you weren’t even bothering to put on makeup and you basically wore whatever clothes you had that weren’t already sprawled across your room.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked, walking close to you to make sure you didn’t fall over. He knew you were an insomniac, but you looked seriously sleep-deprived today. “Have you been sleeping at all lately?”

“Nope,” you huffed, lugging your perpetually heavy backpack along. “But I’m skipping the rest of my classes today. I’d rather lie that I’m sick through an e-mail than have to explain to my professors why I was sleeping during their classes.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed, stopping you in your tracks to take your backpack from you. “I’ve actually got some time before my next class. I can walk you back to your room and give you my notebook if that’s okay with you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you told him, reaching to take your bag back from him, although he didn’t let you.

“Y/N. Come on, you’re exhausted. At least let me carry your stuff, alright?” He had such a kind look in his eyes, and you certainly didn’t have the energy to keep arguing for no reason.

“Okay.” You crossed your arms, the cold air slowly waking you up as the wind hit your face. Your ears were super cold, but you were glad you had pulled your hair into a quick braid to keep it from flying everywhere.

It wasn’t long before you were kicking your boots off in your dorm room, your teeth chattering as you wrapped yourself in a blanket.

“Do you want some tea?” you asked Peter, inviting him to sit down wherever.

“Sure, but I thought you drank coffee,” he reminded you, watching as you pulled an assortment of tea bags for him to choose from.

“I do,” you said, handing him the box and running to your bathroom to fill up the electric kettle. “But you drink tea.”

Peter’s ears suddenly felt hot. You had gotten tea just for him. Or maybe you were just a really good hostess and kept some around for all of your visitors. Probably the second option, he thought.

“Are you even allowed to have one of those?” he asked as the two of you waited for the water to boil.

“No,” you laughed, sitting next to him on your bed. For someone with so much space to themselves, you really needed to invest in more places to sit. “But you can’t have candles or fairy lights either, so I guess I’m just a rule breaker.”

“Guess I’ll just have to report you to the RA,” Peter teased, getting up to make himself a cup of earl grey. “Do you have any sugar?”

“Top drawer on the right,” you replied. “Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Yes.” You watched as his lips blew on the tea to cool it down before remembering that it was weird to stare.

“You should let me bake something for you. What’s your favorite dessert?” You were kicking your dangling legs, suddenly feeling a lot more awake than this morning.

“Chocolate cake. With chocolate frosting,” he said in between sips, walking back over to you. With you on the tall bed and him standing, your faces were level with each other.

“I’ll have to make you one to thank you,” you smiled, peering into his eyes. Peter felt your heartbeat quicken, and the grin on your face as you stared at each other made him weak in the knees.

“Can I get those notes?” you asked, making him remember that people don’t just look at each other and say nothing like that.

“Oh! Yeah, definitely.” He quickly set the mug down on your nightstand to rummage through his backpack, flipping one of his notebooks open before handing it to you. “There are the ones from today, but all of the ones I’ve taken this semester are in there too.”

“Wow,” you laughed, making a worried expression form on his face.

“What’s wrong? Are they not good?”

“No, it’s not that. They’re just, uh, very thorough.” He had basically transcribed your professor’s lectures onto the pages. “You must write really fast. But thank you, Peter. I really appreciate it.”

Peter nodded before nervously gulping down the rest of his tea, not even noticing how hot the liquid still was as it nearly burned his throat.

“I should go now,” he started, looking around the room for his things. “I want you to get some rest, Y/N. Please.”

He had this look in his eyes that was so genuine—so full of care and concern—that it made you want to do whatever he asked you to.

“I’ll try,” you told him, awkwardly rubbing the top of your arm in the hopes that you could actually fall asleep after he left. “Have a nice day, Peter.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll stop by later,” he said, already halfway out the door. “For the notes, I mean! Uh, bye. Again. Okay. I’m going to go now.”

You giggled, giving him one last wave before he left. Like magic, the more you thought about how Peter was worried about you, the easier it was for you to drift off into a peaceful sleep, finally feeling at ease for the first time in weeks.

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You woke up later that day to Peter knocking on your door, this time standing next to some guy in a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt.

“Hi, Y/N,” Peter greeted you. You looked a lot less tired than when he saw you this morning, which relieved him. “This is my roommate, Ned. He just wanted to know who I’ve been hanging out with, so I hope it’s okay that I brought him here to prove you’re real and not a figment of my imagination.”

Ned leaned closer to you, your hair still a little messy from your nap. “Blink twice if he’s paying you,” he whispered, causing you to giggle. Peter looked on nervously, unsure of what his best friend had just said to you.

“What did you say!?” he asked, lightly pushing Ned on the arm, knowing that it was probably something meant to embarrass him.

“Ow! Okay, now I’m really not telling you,” Ned replied, rubbing the spot where Peter had just hit him.

“Y/N, what did Ned say to you?” He turned to you, a worried look on his face as you and Ned held back your laughter. Peter’s face turned as red as a tomato, making you instantly feel a little bit bad.

“It was nothing, Peter. Really,” you said, pulling him into the room with you. “It was nice to meet you, Ned. I’ll make sure he’s back before curfew.”

Ned laughed, offering a quick thumbs up and mouthing “I like her” to Peter before you shut the door on him.

“I knew that was a mistake,” Peter sighed, his back against the door. You were still a bit giddy from the exchange, giggling softly as he slowed his breathing.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed around me,” you reassured him. “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s just that…”

“What?” You could barely hear him as his voice trailed off.

“Well, uh, not all of my friends are, you know…”

“Spit it out, Peter,” you said, leaning closer so that you could hear him better.

“They’re not as pretty as you,” he muttered, making you blush at his words. Did he really think you were pretty?

“Oh. Thanks,” you smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Peter lifted his head up, relieved that you didn’t think he was a creep or something.

“Your notebook’s on my desk,” you continued, stepping back a little to give him some space. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the distance between you and him grew. “I just took a bunch of pictures, so I can look at them on my computer whenever.”

“Alright, awesome,” he said, walking over to collect it before turning back to you. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty well, actually. The best I’ve slept in a while. I think you’re some kind of good luck charm.”

“Really?” he asked, a little surprised that he had been helpful.

“Really. You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe it’d be nice if we hung out somewhere that wasn’t my room all the time,” you said, a hopeful look in your eyes. “If you want.”

Peter had never noticed it before, but the two of you really did spend most of your time together in your room. It really was a nice room, but it made sense that you’d want to get out of it every once and a while.

“I’d like that. What did you have in mind?” Play it cool, Parker, he told himself. You can freak out with Ned later.

“How about ice cream on Friday?” you suggested, which came as a bit of a surprise to him.

“In the middle of winter?” As far as Peter could remember, you were always cold.

“Yeah. I really love ice cream,” you added, smiling up at him.

“Okay, then. Ice cream it is,” he agreed. There was absolutely no way he could ever say no to you when you looked at him like that.

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“May! No, it’s not a date. She’s just a friend. Yeah, I got it. Open the door, pay for her, don’t be an idiot!” Peter sighed into his phone, hoping his aunt’s unwarranted crash course on first dates would be over soon. “Yes, I’m wearing the green sweater. Thanks, love you. Bye!”

“I have no idea who told her I had a date tonight,” he groaned, slumping down onto the couch next to his best friend.

“I texted her,” Ned replied nonchalantly, not even looking away from whatever video game he was playing. “Knew you’d need some kind of pointers. Y/N is way out of your league.”

“Hey!” Was he right? Yes. Did Peter need to be reminded of it right before his not-a-date date with you? Definitely not.

“Come on, you know I’m right. It’s Liz Allan all over again. I have no idea how you keep pulling all of these pretty girls, but hey, credit where credit is due.”

“You’re so mean.”

“I keep it real and you love it. Good luck, man.”

“Bye,” Peter grumbled, slipping on his coat and walking out of their room. Four flights of stairs later, he was at your door.

“Hi!” you squeaked, wrapping your arms around him. This was the first time the two of you had ever hugged and Peter was not going to forget about it anytime soon. “Come in. I have a surprise for you!”

“Here,” you continued, holding out a blue and white beanie for him. “I made it for you. To match all those blue sweaters you wear all the time.” Except this time, he was wearing a forest green one, which brought out the slight hazel tinge in his eyes.

“You made this for me?” he asked, eyeing the different stitches you had used and fiddling with the pom-pom on top. It looked store-bought.

“Well, yeah, silly. I just said that,” you replied, hoping that he liked it. With all the time you didn’t sleep, you were knitting anyway, but this was a special present for him. “Try it on.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” he sighed, pulling the hat onto his head. He looked really cute, the ends of his wavy hair peeking out from underneath the brim.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, pulling him out of your room and towards the front of the dorm building. “Getting to hang out with you is good enough for me.”

“Where’d you learn how to knit?” Peter questioned, walking alongside you on the snow-lined sidewalks. With how cold it was, and considering he didn’t have a hood on his coat, it seemed like perfect timing that you had given him a hat.

“My grandma taught me,” you shared, taking in the twinkling of the streetlamps and how they bounced against the snow. In New York, that was practically the closest you could get to stargazing. “My, uh, grandparents actually raised me.”

“Oh. I was raised by my aunt and uncle,” Peter confided. It made you feel not so alone to find out that he didn’t grow up with his parents either, even though you knew firsthand just how hard it was.

“Do they live around here?” you asked, stealing glances at him and how rosy his cheeks were in the cold air.

“Yeah, my aunt lives in Queens,” he told you, staring at his feet to both avoid eye contact and make sure neither of you accidentally slipped. Not that he wouldn’t catch you, but he wanted to be safe. “My uncle actually passed away a couple of years ago.”

You stopped walking, immediately feeling a sense of regret. “I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. There was no way for you to have known that,” Peter reassured you, his warm breath coming out in clouds, and he reached for your hand to run his thumb across your knuckles. He gently pulled you along, keeping you from dying of embarrassment in the middle of campus.

“What about you? Are you from around here?” he asked, hoping to break the silence and make you feel a little bit better.

“No, I just moved up here for college. I grew up in Texas but moved to North Carolina when I was 13, so I finished school down there,” you explained, Peter suddenly noticing a slight Southern twang to your voice. “I just really wanted to go to school in a big city and not next to a farm for once in my life.”

“That makes sense,” he laughed, wondering what it would be like to live somewhere else. “I’ve only ever lived in New York City.”

“Do you like it here?”

“I love it. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, to be honest.”

“Me either,” you sighed, squeezing his hand tighter as the two of you enjoyed your walk in the snow.

It seemed like forever before you reached the ice cream shop, but you didn’t mind. That just gave you and Peter more time to get to know each other better. Turns out you both competed in academic decathlons, although you were more of a math person and he preferred science.

“Okay, you’re wrong. Night at the Museum 2 is so much better than the first one. I mean that kiss between Ben Stiller and Amy Adams? The Jonas Brothers as little cherub angels? Name one thing from the original that tops that,” you ranted in between spoonfuls of peppermint ice cream.

“I just really like when the little cowboy and gladiator are driving that toy car around,” he reasoned, subtly admitting defeat.

“Don’t even get me started on why the second Shrek movie—”

You were interrupted by the sound of Peter’s phone ringing, and you immediately recognized his ringtone as the Coconut Mall theme from Mario Kart. He peered down at his phone screen, sighing and mouthing an apology to you as he accepted the call.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Stark. Did you need something?” Well, at least you knew he wasn’t lying about his internship at Stark Industries. “Toronto? Tonight? I’m kind of busy.”

There was a long pause as Peter mentally kicked himself for talking back to Tony, resulting in an earful about how being an Avenger should always be at the top of his priorities.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be right over… but I need a favor. Could you send Happy to pick my friend up? Yeah, it’s the ice cream shop on 1st. Thank you so much, Mr. Stark. Bye.” He frowned at you, and you could tell from what you had heard that he had to go.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s just, something came up last minute and Mr. Stark really needs me to go on this business trip with him,” he apologized, pulling his coat on. “But, uh, he’s sending a car for you. So don’t worry about walking back alone, alright? I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you when I get back, okay? Bye!”

“Oh, okay. Bye!” you managed to call out before he was running out the doors and down the street. Lots of customers were staring as you awkwardly gathered your things and went to go wait on the sidewalk.

A few minutes later, a shiny black car had pulled up to the curb in front of you, a man rolling down the window.

“Miss Y/N? I’m Happy Hogan. Mr. Stark sent me to drive you home,” he called from the driver’s seat, before getting out to open your door for you. You stepped in, a little starstruck at how nice the car was. You had never been in anything this expensive before.

The two of you were sitting in silence until you finally got the courage to speak up.

“Mr. Hogan,” you started, causing him to turn down the smooth jazz that had been playing on the radio. “Do you know why Peter has to go to Toronto?”

“Yes,” he replied, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “But I can’t tell you that.”

“Oh, okay,” you accepted, shifting to look out the window at all of the places in the city that you hadn’t yet gotten the chance to explore.

Eventually, he was dropping you off in front of your dorm, and you were trudging inside to your room to sulk about how your not-a-date date with Peter had gotten interrupted. You stared at your ceiling all night, wondering when the next time you’d see each other would be, and whether or not he’d come back with the same cuts and bruises as when you had first met.

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

Peter had been gone for six days and counting, and you were starting to worry that he might never come back. You had already started missing him the night he left, and now it was just some agonizing waiting game for him to return.

You must have spent hours in the basement kitchen before deciding to visit the fourth floor where Peter lived. You knocked on the door and was quickly met with Ned’s shocked expression.

“Uh, hi, Y/N. Peter’s not here right now. Did you need something?”

“I know,” you acknowledged, holding up the plate in your hand. “It’s just, well, I’ve been baking a lot and I didn’t really know who to give all of these cookies to, so I was wondering if you wanted any.”

“Oh, in that case, sign me up!” You watched as his face lit up as he noticed the assortment of chocolate chip, sugar, and snickerdoodle cookies all still warm from the oven. He offered his hands out to take the plate from you, which you happily relinquished.

“These are really good,” he complimented, his mouth full of a sugar cookie. “Can I keep the rest of them?”

“Yeah, of course,” you answered, doing your best to smile despite how much you wished it had been Peter opening the door. “I’ll see you around, Ned.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he called out to you, making you turn around on the stairwell. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Peter’s going to be back any day now.” You nodded, offering him a wave and walking back down to your room.

Turns out Ned had been right. The strange noises outside of your window were masked by how loud you were jamming out to We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel, jumping around and listing off the lyrics that had never made much sense to you. Peter knocked louder on the glass, startling you as you quickly switched off the music to investigate.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, squinting your eyes to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. “Spider-Man? Is that really you?”

You fumbled to push up your window, extremely confused as to why one of the Avengers was outside your bedroom this late at night.

“It’s me, Y/N,” he explained, his voice suddenly becoming extremely familiar. Your eyes widened as you realized who was behind the mask.

“Oh my god! PETER?” you screamed as he slipped through the window, pulling off his mask and clapping a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t freak out. It’s okay. It’s just me, okay?” he stammered in an attempt to get you to calm down before an RA heard. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really wanted to tell you, but we were in public when I left, and I couldn’t risk it. And I didn’t want to text it or do it over the phone because it’s kind of a big deal, so I figured I’d just come to see you as soon as I got back and Mr. Stark said that you have to promise—”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you interrupted, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into the very weird material of his spider-suit. “I won’t tell anybody.”

He softened under your touch, resting his head on top of yours. “I like your dance moves,” he whispered, making you glare up at him, your face suddenly very red.

“How long were you watching?” you groaned, dramatically throwing yourself onto your bean bag, your face covered by your hands.

“Only for about a minute,” he answered, pulling your hands down so you could see him grinning at you. “I especially liked how you used your hairbrush as a microphone. Plus, I thought we agreed to stop being embarrassed around each other?”

“Well, that was before I knew you were freaking Spider-Man!”

“Okay, fair enough,” he agreed, nudging you to scoot over and make room for him.

“So, that’s what that whole Toronto thing was?” you asked as he sat next to you, your knee touching his.

“Yep. There was this thing about aliens and these guys that could shapeshift. It’s a lot to explain.”

“Are you going to keep that thing on all night?” you asked, gesturing at his outfit, which was very tight and very distracting from whatever alien story he had to tell.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” he shrugged. “I don’t have anything on underneath it.”

“How scandalous,” you teased. “Not so family-friendly after all, huh, Spidey?”

“Oh, shut up,” he quipped, rolling his eyes as you let out a long yawn.

“Have you been sleeping much?” he continued, suddenly remembering the issue that had brought the two of you together in the first place.

“Of course not. I’ve been too busy worrying about my classes and, oh, just some idiot I know that abandoned me in the middle of an ice cream shop. Pretty sure he said he’d make that up to me, by the way.”

“Okay, okay. Message received. What would you like?” Please say a kiss. Please say a kiss. Please say a—

“Can I meet them? The Avengers, I mean. It’s not like anyone else really has a secret identity except for you.”

“Oh. I mean, I’d have to ask Mr. Stark and the rest of the team and see if they’re cool with it, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Awesome! You’re the best,” you chimed, wrapping your arms around him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

It was then that Peter decided he would just never be able to wash that side of his face again, his heart nearly skipping a beat.

“Peter,” you said, breaking the silence he had left the two of you in. “I’m tired.”

“Me too,” he sighed. “I should head up to my room. Gotta make sure Ned knows I’m still alive.”

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, standing up to see him out. “Aren’t you worried somebody will see you, though?”

“Y/N, it’s 4 a.m. I’m pretty sure that you and I are the only people on campus that are awake right now.”

“Oh, right. Still, be careful, okay?” you told him, slightly worried at his secret identity being found out by some college kid that just couldn’t stay off Twitter.

“Will do,” he said, smiling and giving you a little salute before leaving.

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

A few days later, before you could even greet him, Peter was already walking into your room. It was 10 p.m., a little earlier than when he usually came over, but by now you were used to him showing up at your door unannounced.

He was already wearing his pajamas, a t-shirt with a science pun and some flannel pants that he had invested in to avoid any more awkward moments between the two of you. You were dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, the clothes you usually threw on after class just in case you fell asleep on accident. There had been more times where you had woken up sweaty with your jeans stuck to your legs than you were willing to admit.

“Okay, so I asked Mr. Stark about your request and he told me he doesn’t think now is a good time, but…” he grinned, holding out a giant cardboard box with some kind of minimalist home appliance on the front for you to look at.

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” you blinked back, trying to figure out what the hell you were staring at, considering that all of the text written on it was in a language you didn’t know how to read.

“It’s some fancy white noise machine from Japan. If I remember correctly, Mr. Stark said he made Pepper order it because I wouldn’t shut up about you, and it would be in everybody’s best interest if you got some sleep, so I could stop annoying him and the rest of the team.”

“Oh. That’s pretty thoughtful, I guess,” you said, gathering things off your floor to make space for it.

He set the box down on your rug and got to work opening it. Meanwhile, you were busy translating what exactly Tony Stark had so generously gifted to you.

“Peter, wait. This thing is like $300. Doesn’t he know that you can just look up whale noises on YouTube for free?”

“Yeah, but this one adjusts its volume based on the noises around it, has a light that simulates the sun rising, and has an alarm noise that’s supposed to support healthy cortisol levels.”

Peter peered up to see your arms crossed and brows furrowed, it suddenly becoming clear to him that the things he had just listed meant very little to you.

“Plus, he’s a literal billionaire, so I don’t think it was that big of a loss for him,” he added.

“Fine. Let’s just hope this thing works,” you sighed, watching as Peter leafed through the instruction manual before tossing it behind him. “It’s a little early to go to sleep, though.”

“Y/N, plenty of people go to sleep at 10. Not everybody is nocturnal like you.”

“I guess you have a point,” you agreed, kneeling down beside him as he fiddled with all the settings.

“I know,” he said with a smirk as you rested your chin on his shoulder to get a better look at what he was doing. “What time do you want to wake up? 7 a.m. would give us time to go get breakfast before class, but we could do 8 if you wanted to sleep in.”

“We?” you mused, liking the sound of that. “I guess that means you’re staying here tonight?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not letting you have all these overpriced rainforest noises to yourself.”

“Do 7. We can go get those blueberry muffins that you like,” you decided, standing up to get Peter’s makeshift bed on your bean bag ready. “Do you actually like sleeping on this thing, or were you just trying to be polite the first time I asked?”

“Dude, that thing is awesome. It’s like I’m on this little cuddly cloud, and then you add all those warm blankets and the twinkly lights and it’s the perfect recipe for me to fall asleep.”

“Wow,” you nodded, looking around your room to see all of the things that Peter was talking about. “I wish it worked that way for me.”

“Maybe it will, tonight.”

It didn’t. You were tossing and turning for nearly an hour to the agonizing sounds of birds cawing and the occasional monkey chatter, all set against the backdrop of a heavy thunderstorm. To be honest, it was something that would’ve given you nightmares when you were little.

“Y/N?” Peter whispered from the floor. “Are you sleeping?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“Could you turn that thing off? It’s really distracting me.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, leaning over to switch the noise machine off. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

He hesitated, not really sure if he should ask the question that he had been thinking about for a while now. “How old were you when your parents died?”

You had to think for a moment, not really sure about the answer. For as long as you could remember, you just lived with your grandparents. “Um, well my mom left when I was a baby. And I think my dad passed away when I was four.”

“Oh,” Peter mumbled. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a parent leave you, but he didn’t want to pry just in case it was a sensitive topic. “Are your grandparents from your mom or dad’s side?”

You rolled over to rest your head on the edge of your bed so that you could see him better. He looked so cute bundled up in all of your blankets, his hair already a bit messy. “They’re my mom’s parents. It’s weird. I see a lot of pictures of her from when she was growing up, and I look so much like her, but she’s basically a stranger to me.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something else, but there was a long pause and he decided not to.

“What about you? How old were you when your parents passed away?”

“Five or six. They met while working at the C.I.A. together, but most of my memories are from the stories my aunt and uncle told me when I was growing up.”

For a moment, neither of you could find the right words to say to each other.

“Peter,” you spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m really glad I met you.”

“I’m really glad I met you too.”

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

Peter’s next plan of action involved even more advice from his fellow Avengers, and you were not looking forward to trying out any of their suggestions.

“Okay, so, Steve—I mean Captain America—said that when he was little, you know, in the 1940s, all he had to do was drink a glass of warm milk before bed.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” you groaned, crossing your arms.

“I just saw you eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s in one sitting the other day.”

“Regular milk has almost 15 times more lactose than ice cream. You’d think a science nerd like you would know that.”

“I’m a geek,” he scoffed, clearly a little bit offended. “Not a nerd.”

“Yeah, I can see that now. It’s okay, though. At least you’re pretty,” you said, pinching his cheek.

“Just try it,” he grumbled, handing you the warm glass and waiting impatiently for you to take a sip. If anything, the milk did a better job at keeping you up that night than putting you to sleep. Not even thirty minutes after you had gone to bed, you were feeling sick to your stomach.

“I hate milk,” you gagged, Peter holding your hair back as you kneeled over the toilet bowl. “My grandpa could never get me to drink it as a kid.”

“Is that why you’re so short?” he laughed, helping you up. You glared at him as you moved to the sink to wash the acidic taste out of your mouth.

“Shut up, Parker,” you quipped, tired and grumpy from how terrible you felt. “Let’s just go back to sleep.”

“Alright, munchkin,” he smiled, pulling you out of the bathroom and back towards your bed.

Somehow, the warm milk wasn’t even the worst of Peter’s ideas, because a few days later, he was standing at your door with a bottle of some Asgardian sleep aid from the lightning god himself.

“Are you sure this is safe for me to drink?” you asked, your eyes widening as you stared at the silvery liquid that was almost shimmering.

“Uh, I’m about 87% confident you’ll live,” he said, “But I’m 100% sure that it’ll work.”

“Gee, thanks. Now I really want to drink this weird alien potion,” you sighed, looking at him nervously.

“Just drink a little bit and see if you feel anything,” Peter encouraged, leaning over your shoulder. You nodded, hesitantly bringing the drink up to your lips to take a sip.

“This stuff tastes amazing,” you mused, taking a bigger gulp this time. “Like a blue raspberry slushie.”

“Whoa, that’s enough,” he warned, taking the bottle from your hands before you could drink any more of it. “We don’t want you to go into a coma.”

“I don’t feel anything,” you shrugged, frowning back at him. “Maybe I should—”

You stopped mid-sentence to let out a loud yawn, the potion starting to take effect. Peter caught you as you slumped down in your chair, helping you into bed.

“Okay. I definitely feel it now,” you admitted, already half asleep. Peter tucked you under your blankets, placing a kiss on your forehead as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he whispered, turning off your lights and softly closing the door behind him.

For a moment, Peter had thought he had finally found a solution to your insomnia. At least before you slept through class the next morning. And then the day after that. But it wasn’t until the third day that he really started to freak out.

“Where’s Thor!?” he panted, having run all the way from his class over to the Avengers Tower. Wanda and Vision stared back at him from the kitchen, very confused at what he was so panicked about.

“He’s in his room,” Bucky called from the couch, his mouth full of popcorn as 13 Going on 30 played on the big screen. “What’s going on, kid?”

“No time to explain. Gotta go!” Peter called, sprinting up the stairs towards Thor’s room. He knocked frantically until the door finally swung open.

“Greetings, young Spiderling. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Thor smiled, his long, golden hair shiny as ever.

“I think I killed my almost-girlfriend!” Peter blurted out, practically sweating from how stressed out he was. “She drank that stuff you gave me and she hasn’t woken up in three days now!”

Thor chuckled, patting Peter on the head. “Do not worry, my brother. I’m sure she will wake up given time. It was a very potent drink, after all. Calm yourself.”

“Okay,” he sighed, relieved to know that he hadn’t poisoned you to death. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. She’s fine. Everything’s fine. Thanks, man. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Farewell, Peter. May we meet again soon,” he grinned before closing the door in Peter’s face.

On the way back down the stairs, Peter figured he’d give you a call and see if you were still sleeping.

“Hello?” you groaned, your throat dry from just waking up. “Peter, what the hell happened to me?”

“THANK GOD YOU’RE ALIVE!” Peter yelled into the phone, making you recoil from the volume of his excitement. “You’ve been asleep for three days, Y/N. I thought you were dead.”

“I am very much alive,” you laughed, slowly feeling the potion wearing off. “Where are you?”

“Uh. I may have run all the way to Midtown to ask Thor if I had killed you,” he admitted, feeling you roll your eyes through the screen. “I was worried, okay?”

“Now you know how I feel whenever you leave for a mission,” you countered, glad that Peter couldn’t see how much you were blushing. “Hurry up and get your butt back over here. I have the weirdest dream to tell you about.”

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

Even if you still weren’t getting a full eight hours of rest at night, it was obvious that all of Peter’s efforts had vastly improved your sleep schedule. Over the past few months, you had gone from staring at your ceiling all night to actually being able to stay asleep for small periods of time.

“Your eyelashes are so long,” you mused, playing with Peter’s hair. He was sitting in between your legs and How the Grinch Stole Christmas was playing on your TV.

“Really?” He tilted his head back to look at you, batting his eyelashes and making you giggle.

“Yes. It’s not fair that boys get all of the pretty eyelashes,” you pouted, watching as the Grinch explained his plan to steal all of Whoville’s presents to his dog.

“I think yours are pretty,” he replied, a soft smile on his face. “But there’s a rogue one just hanging out on your face right now.”

“Can you get it?” you asked, your eyes still glued on the TV screen. Peter nodded, twisting around to gently brush the eyelash from your cheek.

“Do you want to make a wish?” he laughed, holding the little eyelash on the tip of his finger in front of you.

“Okay,” you agreed, squeezing your eyes shut and blowing it away. When you opened them, Peter’s face was only inches away from yours.

“What did you wish for?” His gaze shifted downwards to look at your lips for a split second, before returning to look into your eyes.

“I can’t tell you, dummy. Then it won’t come true.” You weren’t about to tell your best friend that you wished for him to kiss you. At least not now, while the two of you were stuck in this really weird “not dating, but more than just friends” limbo.

“Fine,” he frowned, crossing his arms and pouting in a way that you recognized had been mimicked after you.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you said, mirroring his stance. Your puppy dog eyes were definitely a lot more convincing than his.

“I’m not.”

“Uh-huh, sure. You smell really good, by the way. Well, your hoodie does. I could just wrap myself up in it and fall asleep.”

“How come you’ve never mentioned that before? You could’ve been out cold every night months ago!”

“Guess I was just too distracted by your dreamy face,” you teased, causing Peter to blush.

“Whatever. Seriously, though. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I think it took me a while to realize how sleepy I got whenever you were really close to me,” you shrugged. “You’re not mad at me, right?”

“Of course not. But if I had known sooner I would’ve just given you one,” he said, slipping the hoodie over his head and handing it to you. “Here, put it on. You better fall asleep instantly or I’m calling bullshit.”

“You caught me, Peter. This was all some elaborate plan for me to steal one of your hoodies.”

“Just put it on. The suspense is killing me.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled his hoodie on. Just from looking at Peter and how slim he was, you never would have guessed that it would be this oversized on you.

“How do I look?” you asked, striking silly poses in front of him. Peter involuntarily licked his lips and he knew he’d be replaying this image of you in his head for the next few weeks.

“You’re going to have to keep that,” he stammered, doing his best to hide how much he really liked seeing you in his clothes. “It looks a lot better on you. I, um, have to go do my homework. And call my aunt. And walk my roommate.”

Peter stumbled to his feet, staring at his wristwatch to maintain his act that he was late for something before grabbing his things and heading out the door, making sure to hold his backpack in front of him. “Let me know if the hoodie thing works. Bye!”

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

Brushing off Peter’s strangely abrupt departure from last night, you nuzzled into your pillow, the warm morning light spilling through your curtains. Last night had probably been your best sleep in months, and you even got to wake up late since it was Saturday. Things probably couldn’t have gone any better.

Before you knew it, you were running up to Peter’s room and banging on his door. He opened the door on your fourth knock, right after Ned had chucked a pillow at him, and you were met with his sleepy eyes and messy hair.

“It worked!” you yelped in excitement, twirling around and still wearing his hoodie. “Well, kind of. I fell asleep after about an hour, and then I slept for maybe three after that. But I had to pee in the middle of the night, and when I got back into bed I couldn’t fall back asleep until 6 a.m.”

“That’s some good progress,” he yawned, stepping out into the hallway to keep your little celebration from bothering Ned too much. “If only we could get you to sleep the entire night.”

“I know right. But I’m so happy!” you cheered, wrapping your arms around him. “We finally did something right!”

“We need to celebrate!” you continued, grabbing Peter’s hand and dragging him down the stairs. “Come on. We’re making you a chocolate cake!”

You stopped by your room on the way to the kitchen, piling a bunch of ingredients into Peter’s arms from your mini-fridge and various shelves.

“Okay, eggs, flour, butter, sugar, chocolate. Damn it. We’re all out of milk.” You side-eyed him, remembering the whole Captain America induced fiasco from a couple weeks ago.

“I think we might have some in our room,” Peter laughed. “Ned drinks a lot of milk mixed with Milo powder. It’s some obsession he picked up when his family took a vacation to Australia. I’ll go get it.”

He set all of the ingredients you had given him on your desk and sprinted back up the stairs to raid Ned’s stash, already thinking of ways to apologize for it later.

A few minutes later he was knocking on your door, out of breath, and dressed to brave the many inches of snow that had fallen overnight.

“We didn’t have any milk,” he panted. “But I can run to the dining hall and get a few cartons.”

“I’ll go with you.” You quickly pulled on your snow boots and layered your puffer coat on top of Peter’s hoodie, wrapping a hand-knit scarf around your neck just to be safe. “All ready.”

Getting the milk was the easy part. Making sure you didn’t die of frostbite was another story. By the time you and Peter got back to your room, your nose was super red and you couldn’t feel your toes.

“Okay,” you said, your teeth chattering. “I thought I was used to the snow by now, but that was something else.” You dropped your coat on the ground and climbed into your bed, burying yourself under your comforter.

“I thought we were making a cake,” he laughed, walking over to see you peeking out of the pile.

“Cake will have to wait,” you whined, your voice slightly muffled by the blanket. “Come here. I need some of your body heat.”

“Okay,” he stuttered, kicking off his sneakers and climbing in beside you. He had sat on your bed a lot since the two of you met, but this was the first time that he was actually laying in it. You snuggled up to him, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you.

“This is nice,” you sighed, nuzzling your head into his chest. “Is this one of your superpowers? Spidey-warmth?” Peter let out a soft laugh. It was silly but true. Ever since the bite, he never really noticed how cold it was outside anymore.

“Y/N,” he whispered, tightening his grip around your waist. Your head was nestled underneath his chin, and he could smell the faint citrus scent of your shampoo. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Pete?” you yawned, your eyelids heavy from how comfy Peter’s cuddles were.

“I love you.” He held his breath, nervously waiting for you to respond.

“I know,” you giggled, intertwining your legs. “Sometimes, you talk in your sleep. You’ve probably professed your love for me at least eight times by now.”

“Oh.” Peter had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that.

“Don’t worry. I love you, too,” you assured him, grinning and placing little kisses on his jawline. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Maybe you could make it a little more obvious,” he mumbled, his heartbeat getting quicker as you shifted up to kiss him on the lips, your hand running through his hair.

“I will,” you smiled, your forehead resting against his. “But after we take a nap, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, snuggling as close as he possibly could to you, never wanting to let go. In no time at all, he watched happily as you fell asleep in his arms, wondering how the two of you hadn’t thought of this sooner.

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

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sserpente · 4 years

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A/N: I received two anon requests quite a while ago and decided to keep them because the idea was… hot! I hope you all had some lovely holidays! Enjoy reading! ♥

Words: 2392 Warnings: smut, smut, smut… and a lot of fluff

Additional NSFW warnings: teeny tiny bit of dub-con, depending how you look at it, sleep fucking, cockwarming and forced orgasm (we’re going at it again, my lovelies! Prepare to take a cold shower after this!)

It was not that you didn’t care about the others. It was just that you cared about Loki more. The Avengers knew that—there was no point in pretending you were not selfish in that aspect. Besides, for a very long time, nobody truly seemed to care about Loki before, not until you stepped into his life and threw his emotions into turmoil. You grinned deviously at the thought. Together, you were one of a kind. An inseparable and invincible team against the nine realms.

To begin with, you had been unsure if he would let you win his heart even though he had been unable to deny his own reactions to you. Soon enough, however, Loki had begun courting you—right until this one, fateful night in Norway where he had kissed you under the glooming Northern Lights.

You missed him. More than you could couch in terms. Loki had been away on a mission with Thor, somewhere in the depths of Niflheim for several weeks now. Only a handful of einherjar as well as Valkyrie had accompanied him, the only life sign you received every other day when Thor contacted Tony to give him updates which left you worrying about him most of the time.

Your bed felt so empty without him, so cold. Loki had become the most important person in your life in such a short time period it almost scared you.

“Good evening, Miss (Y/L/N),” You looked up to the ceiling when you heard FRIDAY’s electronic voice ricocheting through Loki’s and your room. “Mr Stark has asked me to let you know that Thor and Loki have just returned from their mission. They are—” The AI was unable to finish delivering its message. You had already bolted through the door regardless of the fact you were already wearing your pyjamas.

Thor was sitting on the sofa in the middle of the massive living room, his dirty boots staining the soft carpet to his feet and his precious hammer resting on a cushion by his side. Frantically, your eyes scanned your surroundings. Loki found you first, greeting you with a mischievous smirk as soon as you laid your eyes upon him.

“Finally…” You dashed forward, throwing yourself into his arms. The God of Mischief grunted from the galvanic impact, making you push him an arm-length away from you with a concerned expression on your face.

“Are you hurt?!”

“No… just… exhausted.” He leaned his forehead against yours, pressing you tightly against his body despite the heavy tiredness in his limbs. Thor was taking all the credit, as usual. There were always two sides of a story and the Avengers, whenever the Asgardian brothers were involved, only ever cared to acknowledge Thor’s version.

“Did everything go well?” You asked him with a quiet voice all the while ignoring the heated conversation Thor had started with his rumblings about war, battle and triumph.

“There were minor complications. We had the element of surprise.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “Tell me the details tomorrow. You should rest, my king.” Loki smiled in response.

“Not just yet…” He mused. “First, let me show you how much I missed you, my sweet pet…”

Your loins caught fire the moment his hot breath brushed against your ear, promising a night filled with pleasure and passion. You clung on to him, desperately, as he lifted you up like a bride and carried you back to your shared room.

“But I do have to admit that we couldn’t have done it without my brother this time.” Thor said in just that moment. “Right, Loki?” He looked up, searching for him, but he was already gone. “Loki?”

His mouth came crashing down on yours before you had a chance to feel the ground under your soles again. Loki gently put you on the bed and threw the covers back, his lips never ceasing to explore yours. You could practically taste his longing for you, that burning desire setting your skin ablaze. Adrenaline from battle and violence still cursed through his veins, your willing body and mind an anchor to his aching soul.

His greedy hands dived under your thin shirt, caressing your naked skin. Your back arched when his fingertips reached the underside of your breasts, your nipples already hard and awaiting his touch. You whimpered—a soft sound urging him on to take from you what he needed, only to return more bliss to you than imaginable. Loki was a gentle lover, considerate. He took pride in how often he could make you quiver and moan underneath him before he sheathed himself deep inside your demanding quim.

Soon enough, he occupied himself with your knickers, his long digits travelling over your abdomen all the way down your body so slowly you shivered from the anticipation until he reached the hem of the thin fabric. He took his time sliding them off of you until you could kick them out of bed. You sat up, if only for a brief moment to get rid of your shirt. Loki eyed your body hungrily, taking in every single inch you so willingly presented to him. When you lied back down, bucking your hips already eager for his body to join with yours, an animalistic growl escaped his lips. Loki attacked your neck with a ferocity which made you tremble beneath him. His hands barely managed to free his aroused member from his dark leather trousers as he nibbled and suckled on your sensitive skin, determined to leave passionate love bites all over you to mark you as his. You would never belong to anyone else.

Breathing heavily, you dug your fingernails into his shoulders. More. You needed more, so much more.

“Loki… take all of your clothes off. Please… I want to feel you.” It was a silent plea, one Loki found himself unable to resist. There were, after all, certain perks of wielding seidr. His armour all but melted off of his body, along with, so you presumed, the dirt and sweat from exhaustion and his recent fights. A moan escaped your lips when his now naked skin touched yours, removing the last ounce of distance there had still been between you.

He was already hard, leaking precum from the pink tip. You longed to give his impressive length a long lick, tasting his arousal as much as he could taste yours when, without any forewarning, he thrust two of his long fingers into your leaking core and curled them just where you needed it the most, testing your wetness.

You were more than ready for him. Loki usually had you on the verge of madness the moment he kissed you, all your worries and sorrows drifting away from your troubled mind. This night was no different. In this very trice, you were his and he was yours. There was no one else.

Loki was demanding in the way he made you spread your legs to position himself between them, stretching your wet entrance inch by inch as he penetrated you to the hilt. Neither of you failed to cherish the moment as he shifted most of his weight onto you in an attempt to get as close as physically possible. He leaned his forehead against yours once more, his warm breath brushing against your moist lips. Only when you wrapped your legs around his hips to impel him did he retreat almost entirely and buried himself back inside you. His pace was steady, intimate. This wasn’t just passionate fucking—this was gentle and tender love making between two people who loved each other. Loki’s pelvis grinded against your clit with every powerful thrust, your breasts bouncing with the impact. It was a mesmerising sight, to say the very least. How could he resist not kneading them, caressing them and cupping them softly, one at a time? His thumb interchangeably rubbed over your hardened nipples, sending shockwaves of arousal through your entire body—they gathered right between your legs, promising release. You needed just… a little more stimulation…

Another, needy whimper escaped your lips when you felt his other hand sneaking down to where your bodies were joined, his teasing fingertips finding your clitoris with ease. He was panting, capturing your lips in another chaste kiss as he picked up his pace and prodded into you harder and faster, his fingers still massaging your sensitive bundle of nerves until he had you right where he wanted you—on the brink of orgasm.

“I can feel you tightening around me, pet…” He grunted hoarsely. A hearty moan accompanied by his name was the only sound you managed to utter in response. “Cum… cum for me.”

So you did, his soft command a dizzying invitation. Over and over, his name rolled over your tongue, echoing through the room. Your fingernails dug into his hips, wanting him even deeper inside you as your orgasm tore through you, setting fire to every cell of your body. Your toes curled, your back arched, your hips kept bucking up to meet his thrusts…

“Yes…” Loki hissed blatantly. At loss for more words, he began rutting into like an animal—like a tiger that had been caged and now pounced on its first willing victim. His hard cock, desperate for relief now, throbbed, pulsing against your tight walls. With a low grunt, Loki spilled himself inside you, filling your still quaking and contracting cunt until his warm seed dribbled down your inner thighs, tickling your sweaty skin.

His stamina never ceased to impress you—and he did not content himself with claiming you just once. No. The majority of the night had passed by the time you almost passed out from exhaustion, even more so than Loki after returning from his mission. He was more than compensating and making up for the time he had been away from you.

It was dark when you awoke again, your eyelids fluttering open only to be met with utter darkness. What was it that had so rudely ripped you from dreamland? It must have been in the middle of the night. Surely Loki had switched off the light with a simple wave of his hand after your passionate love making. And all too soon… all too soon you realised what was happening.

Loki was lazily thrusting into you again, whispering sweet nothings into your neck. His right hand was cupping your breast possessively, his thumb stimulating your hardening nipple.

“Oh… oh, fuck…” You moaned when he circled his hips, his pelvis grinding against your clit in such a delicious manner it fuelled your own arousal climbing up into dizzying heights within a matter of seconds. You were still wet from your passionate love making, remembered, after being taken times and times again and after clenching and cumming around his cock, letting wave after wave of pure bliss wash over you, and you recalled begging him groggily.

“No… Stay inside me, please.” You had fallen asleep with him still resting deep inside you, softening slowly. Loki had been unable to deny how wonderful it felt to have your warm cunt envelop and warm him for the night. He was slumbering soundly now—and he was… dreaming. Dreaming of… claiming you again? You bit your lower lip when his thrusts intensified.

“L-Loki? Wake up, my king…” You realised quickly he had a very deep sleep. Without ever opening his blue eyes, he rolled fully on top of you for better access. You tried to move your arms to control his vigorous rutting but found yourself paralysed, your eyes widening when you noticed. You could not move a limb. What… what was he dreaming? Had he bound you in his very own world? Tied you up with silk rope like he sometimes did in a conscious state? Shifting just a little, you raised your hips up against him. Loki had rendered you completely helpless, ravishing you intimately without his knowledge… and even though it scared you a little—so utterly at his subconscious’ mercy—you found yourself growing more and more aroused.

“Loki… I can’t move… Loki, wake up…”

Loki was not even touching you and yet… yet with a start, it almost felt like invisible fingers were stroking your clit, gently pulling an orgasm from you. Without a doubt, the God of Mischief was using his wicked seidr as he took his release from you. He played your body like an instrument, face buried in your neck and plastering wet and seducing kisses all over your skin.

He grumbled, eyelids twitching slightly. Finally, his blue gaze met yours in the dark, still drowsy and sleep-drugged.

“Oh God…” You moaned, too close to orgasm to grasp a proper thought.

Even if you had wished to, there would have been no stopping him from forcing you to climax for him. Muttering his name when pleasure took control over your body, you threw your head back, your tight walls clenching around him rhythmically, milking him for all he was worth. Loki came, too. He moaned quietly, sheathing himself as deep inside of you as physically possible as he marked you with his warm seed yet again, his manhood pulsing and jerking against your wet cunt.

The dark room was filled with nothing but your rapid heartbeats and your heavy breathing for a while. You were still quivering from your own high, your pussy barely contracting around his slowly softening member when he suddenly chuckled softly in his post-orgasmic haze, fully realising now what must have happened.

“My… it seems that even in my sleep, you are still utterly defenceless against me, my sweet pet.”

You groaned—though your half-hearted complaint sounded more like another eager moan. You could not deny how exciting it had been… and you certainly wouldn’t mind if it happened again.

“I’m glad you’re amused…” Raising an eyebrow, you landed a weak slap against his upper arm.

Loki chuckled once more, rewarding you with another lazy stroke. “You enjoyed it.” He stated matter-of-factly. “You were writhing underneath me and you are positively dripping wet…” His smirk sent pleasant shivers up and down your spine. He was already getting hard again, you could feel him twitch slightly inside of you. A devilish grin spread on your lips.

“Shut up and kiss me.” It was a wish Loki could never turn down before.

A/N: Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years

Note

Hey, it’s my birthday this month too and I will try my luck here 💕 sending you love, luck and flowers by the way 💐🍀❤️

I‘m totally into heartbeats, so my prompt is just „Heartbeat“ for Stony - everything else is up to you ❤️ thank you ❤️

Happy birthday, nonnie! (I know I’m a little late, real life got in the way of filling this prompt during February) I hope you like your story!!

As always, this fic is also on ao3

It takes Steve almost three hours after receiving the serum to realize that the steady thumping sounds he’s hearing are the heartbeats of the people close to him.

He thinks he can be forgiven for taking a while to figure it out. He can hear so much more now than he ever could before—even before his hearing was shot all to hell after his scarlet fever—so his initial thought, after he notices them, is that the thumping sounds are something that everyone can hear, like rushing water or something else. But he decides pretty quickly that that doesn’t make any sense. Even if it weren’t for the fact that no one else seems to hear them, the fact that the thumping sounds fade in and out as people move closer and farther away from him is a pretty clear indicator that it’s not something normal.

It’s not until one of the thumping sounds speeds up when the nurse asks him to take his shirt off so she can draw his blood that he realizes he’s hearing her heartbeat.

It’s incredible. It’s terrifying. It’s—Steve doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about it. He wants to feel excited about it, knows that he probably should be thrilled about this shining example of how perfectly the serum worked. But the more he thinks about it, the more his own heart sinks. He hears heartbeats. There’s not a secret in the world that’s closed to him now.

“Steve?” Peggy asks him, voice high with concern. Clearly not the first time she’s tried to get his attention.

He forces himself to meet her eyes. Her heart skips a beat—Steve’s enhanced hearing picks up on it, muffled under clothes and skin and bone as it may be. He wonders if it would have skipped that beat if he’d still looked like himself. He smiles tightly at her.

“I’m fine.”

Bruce’s heart beats twice as fast as the average human’s. Steve wonders if that’s because of the Hulk, if keeping the Hulk contained requires so much energy that Bruce’s heart beats so much faster. He supports this hypothesis (wouldn’t Tony be so proud of him if he heard this?) with the fact that the Hulk’s heartbeat is the same rate as anyone else’s and the fact that Bruce always has snacks squirreled away on his person.

Natasha’s is always steady. Always. The only time Steve has ever heard her heartbeat unsteady was in the middle of a battle with Doombots when he’s fighting back-to-back with her. Clint had fallen off his perch and Tony had been just a half-second later than usual in catching him. He’d still caught him but in that moment, when it had looked like Clint would hit the ground hard, Natasha’s heart had skipped several beats.

Clint has an arrhythmia. It takes Steve a while to figure out. He hears the missed beats, but he originally thinks it’s because of an external stimulus—Natasha’s bared back in the decontamination showers, Tony gifting him a whole new quiver, an exciting race in Mario Kart—only there’s too much of a pattern to the missed beats and Clint never looks worried when it happens, so Steve asks JARVIS about it. He spends a week learning everything he can about arrhythmias so he knows what to do if something happens during a battle.

Thor’s heartbeat throws him off for a while until he realizes it’s not a heartbeat so much as it is heartbeats. Thor laughs jovially when he asks about it and informs him that Asgardians actually have three hearts.

He never hears Tony’s.

He learns how to filter out the heartbeats. How can he not? Even just a single heartbeat is enough to drive someone mad, but to have to listen to anyone’s who’s standing within a few feet of him? He has to learn to filter the heartbeats or else he’ll lose his sanity.

The USO girls are the best way to do this, though he’ll never admit that to them. He knows they already find him… off, knows that it terrifies them how easily he can lift that motorcycle with them on it and how precisely he has to aim his fake punches so that he doesn’t risk launching Johnny halfway across the audience when he punches Hitler. If they found out he could hear their heartbeats, well, he’d be lucky if half of them don’t quit on the spot.

But the girls, they just—they feel so much. Their hearts flutter when the soldiers smile at them. They beat extra fast when they dance. They slow down when they sleep on the long train rides from city to city. It’s the perfect way to figure out how to drown them out.

In the end, Steve figures that the best way to filter through them is to treat them the same way he would any other background noise. City noises haven’t bothered him in ages because he’s so used to them. He learned to get used to sleeping on trains. He can learn to work around the heartbeats too.

Steve knows Tony has a heart. He has to. He couldn’t just throw it out altogether in favor of solely using the arc reactor (though sometimes he thinks that Tony would if he could). He’s seen the cute little reminder Pepper once gave Tony sitting down there in the workshop in its place of pride next to DUM-E’s charging station.

Proof Tony Stark has a heart.

Tony has a heart. It’s big and it’s beautiful and it overflows in ways that Steve could never have dreamed of when he’d been growing up, no matter how much he’d wanted to help. He thinks of the articles Fury had given him in Tony’s file after he first woke up: Tony Stark Wants to Change the World. He thinks a better headline might have been: Tony Stark Is Changing the World.

They’re friends now, friends who go to the movies and ballgames midnight snacks with each other. Friends who always team up together on game night, a united front against the Super Spies and Thor and Bruce. Friends who hug and sometimes fall asleep cuddled up together on the couch, though Tony is always quick to offer him a smile in the morning and say, “No hard feelings?”

And Steve wants more, desperately, achingly.

But he gets to have this. He gets to have Tony’s forgiveness for his harsh words on the helicarrier and his obedience during their missions and his loyalty when it comes to everything else. And Steve—he’s greedy. A lifetime of growing up with nothing has made him want. But this is something that he knows better about.

He can’t force Tony’s heart to flutter when he looks at Steve. He can’t force it to quicken when they stand too close together. He can’t force Tony to love him.

And yet…

He can’t force himself to stop listening either.

The first time he thinks that this curse might actually be a gift is when he discovers Bucky is still alive. He’s creeping through the empty base, nearly everyone already evacuated, when he turns the corner and sees the scientist. Steve has never met the man before, never even seen him before, but he knows that this must be one of Hydra’s scientists.

He doesn’t have the right build for a soldier. Steve would know.

The scientist’s heartbeat trips as he stares at Steve for only a moment before he hurries away in the opposite direction. Steve almost gives chase after him—if anyone can tell him where Bucky is, it would be him. But even as his strides lengthen into a run, he thinks about how the scientist’s gaze had darted back into the room he’d just left. Isn’t it strange, he muses, that the scientist was still here when everyone else had fled?

That’s when he hears it: the stuttered, fragile heartbeat, nearly eclipsed by a voice Steve knows as well as his own brokenly reciting his identification.

Steve abruptly skids to a halt and turns. He dashes into the room to see Bucky strapped down to a table, eyes staring sightlessly ahead as he begins his recitation all over again. Bile rises in Steve’s throat at the sight of his best friend knocked down like this but he shoves the feeling back. Panic later, action now. If Hydra’s abandoning Bucky in the middle of their experiments, that can’t spell anything good for their escape from the base.

He starts working on the straps, keeping an ear out for distant (or perhaps not-so-distant) explosions. Bucky slowly turns to look at him. “Is it…?” he murmurs, voice as rough as gravel, and then trails off, too exhausted to continue.

“It’s me,” Steve assures him. “It’s Steve.”

Bucky blinks. “Steve?”

Steve glances hurriedly toward the door. They can’t linger here. “Come on,” he mutters, helping Bucky off the table. He drapes Bucky’s arm over his shoulders, silently offering him support.

“Steve,” Bucky says again. His brow wrinkles.

“I thought you were dead,” Steve admits.

“I thought you were taller,” Bucky informs him, and even through his worry, Steve has to bite back a grin. There’s the same old Bucky he knows and loves. They’re gonna be just fine.

The first time Steve hears Tony’s heartbeat, they’re fighting.

Steve doesn’t even remember how it got started, just that one moment, they were laughing and talking with each other, and the next, they’re screaming. They’re pressed practically chest to chest as they yell abuses at each other and when Tony accuses him of being unable to move on from the past, Steve sees red. He straightens up, all but looming over Tony.

There’s a weak, stuttered thump.

It so surprises Steve that he blinks and steps away. He’s never—Tony has a heartbeat, he has to, but Steve has never heard it before. In one wild moment, he’d even once thought that Tony’s heart actually no longer beat and he was surviving entirely on the arc reactor. And yet, what else can it be?

Tony doesn’t seem to notice Steve’s hesitation and he steps in close again, jabbing his finger into Steve’s chest. Steve hears it again, frail and rhythmless and nearly hidden beneath a soft whirr that he’d never noticed before.

The arc reactor.

He’d never heard Tony’s heart because of the arc reactor.

Now that he hears it, he doesn’t know how he’d missed it before. It’s so much. It’s loud, drowning out nearly everything else, or maybe that’s the blood rushing in his ears as it really, truly hits him for the first time that this piece of metal and light is all that’s keeping Tony alive.

“How do you stand it?” he whispers.

Tony steps away, caught off guard. Immediately, Steve misses hearing that sound, that reassurance that Tony’s heart still beats under the reactor, and he follows him.

“Stand what?” Tony asks uncertainly, gaze landing on everything but Steve standing a few inches away from him.

Steve lays his hand over the reactor, covering up its glow. Only—the very thought, that it could go dark and he would lose the thing that matters most to him in this time, terrifies him and he moves his hand away again, realizing only at the last second that his hand is now covering Tony’s heart instead.

“It’s so loud. It’s—I can’t hear you,” he tries to explain.

Tony inhales sharply. “You can hear—” He cuts off, raises his hand to cover Steve’s. Steve nods. “How did no one know that?”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” he admits. “It scared me.” He splays his fingers wide, fingertips brushing the side of the arc reactor and the curve of Tony’s side all at once. “It still scares me.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he begins. Stops. Inhales deeply. Tries again. “Because Clint’s heart could skip more beats than it should and I would hear it but wouldn’t know what to do. Because Natasha could be unhappy and I would never know… Because you could die and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

“Steve—”

Terror makes him brave, who knew? “I can’t hear you unless I’m this close.” He forces himself to meet Tony’s eyes, warm and beautiful. “I always want to be this close, but I know I can’t have that.”

Tony’s lips part on a small gasp. He breathes in unsteadily, heart starting to race. Steve hears it but he doesn’t understand why. “All the words in the world,” Tony eventually says. “And I can’t find the ones I want when I need them.”

“Tony, you don’t have to—”

“Shut up,” Tony murmurs and kisses him.

The last heartbeat Steve hears as he plummets toward the ocean is his own. Red Skull is gone, the remaining Hydra soldiers dead. Peggy’s voice is in his ear but he can barely hear her over his own galloping heartbeat. Figures. The only thing he wants to listen to as he dies is her but he’s still stuck with the heartbeats.

“I’m gonna need a raincheck on that dance,” he tells her.

“Alright,” Peggy says. She sounds like she’s crying. “A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club.”

“You got it,” he promises.

“Eight o’clock on the dot. Don’t you dare be late. Understood?”

The ice is rushing up before him, an expanse of pale blue and white as far as he can see. Maybe, if he’s lucky, the rushing water will drown out the sound of his heart. He doubts it. Steve Rogers has never been lucky.

“You know, I still don’t know how to dance.”

“I’ll show you how. Just be there.”

He wants her voice to be the last thing he hears. He doesn’t want to listen to the sound of his dying heart.

He can’t have everything he wants.

As the bedroom door slides open, through his own exhaustion, Steve hears the gentle whirring of the arc reactor. He blinks his eyes open, taking in the dark room, lit up only by the lights of the city. Even those are dimmed; JARVIS must have the tinted windows darkened. Tony is asleep on his stomach, the arc reactor’s glow muted by his chest pressing it into the blankets.

Steve wearily strips out of his armor, dropping it in the laundry chute to be picked up by the tower bots in the morning. He takes a quick whiff of himself, hoping he doesn’t smell badly enough to need a shower when he’s this tired, and is rewarded with only the slightly stale smell of the Quinjet.

Reassured that he won’t wake his husband up with his rankness, he climbs into their bed, tucking himself under the blankets. Tony grumbles wordlessly, shifting closer to him in his sleep. Steve presses himself along the line of Tony’s body, tucking his head into the curve of Tony’s neck. Nearly silenced by the arc reactor, Tony’s heart beats steadily, still ticking even after all it’s been put through.

He smiles, presses a kiss to Tony’s pulse point, and lets his eyes drift closed.

#alle answers #alle writes #stevetony #if you like please consider reblogging #Anonymous

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nomadstevergxrs · 2 years

Text

Bones (A Marvel AU)

Characters in this chapter: Steve Rogers, Female Reader, Wanda Maximoff, Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Natasha Romanoff, Carl Lucas (Luke Cage), Jessica Jones, Cornell “Cottonmouth Stokes”

Warnings: Language, More talks about a dead body, Slight violence.

Pairings: None. (Eventual Steve Rogers x Reader)

Word Count: 1812

Summary: You are a forensic anthropologist working for the Smithsonian Institute in Washington D.C. when you and your team get recruited by the FBI to aid one of their top field agents, Special Agent Steve Rogers. Together, along with your colleagues/friends you put faces on the voiceless and throw the bad guys where they belong.

Author’s Note: So this is my first Marvel AU series and I’m quite nervous on how this is going to turn out. The series is going to be based on the TV show Bones and since the show is 12 seasons long I’m just going to base the series on some of my favorite episodes including the series finale coming out in the upcoming weeks. I only hope I do it justice. I want to thank @mrs-squirrel-chester for convincing me into writing this and for not only being as awesome beta but because she also made this kick-ass edit above.

________________________________________________________________

"Christ, how does anybody walk in these things?" you muttered to yourself, as both Steve and you stepped inside the gym.

Steve leaned in and whispered in your ear, "Well, ya know. Them boots? They ain't made for walking sweetheart." He pulled back and slapped you on the ass, making you gasp in surprise.

Before you could even open your mouth to curse out your partner, he leaned back in and whispered, "Just follow my lead Y/N."

You rolled your eyes at him but did what you were told. It didn't help that Steve looked handsome with what he was wearing. Well, he always looked handsome in his FBI suits, but today was different. He was more casual and carefree.

Walking past all of the fighters, there was one that caught your eye immediately, "Rogers heads up," you nudged him.

He turned his head and saw the fighter and her coach practicing her strikes, "Yeah I see. 5'9", southpaw." He mused, referring to the text he received from Wanda on the way to the gym.

"Can I help you, folks?" A loud voice called out prompting you both to tear your gaze on the female fighter.

There stood a man about the same height as Steve but leaner, his arms were crossed and his lips set into a thin line.

You waited for Steve to say something but when you looked over you noticed that he was doing some sort of tap dancing in place which you made a mental note to ask him about later.

"Holy shit babe, It's Cornell "Cottonmouth" Stokes," Steve said, snapping out of his nervous tick and wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. You couldn't help but take in his scent of cologne.

"Cottonmouth?" you asked in feigned confusion.

"Yeah! That's how he left his opponents," Steve answered, reverting to his native New York accent.

"These days, it's just Cornell." The former boxer let out a chuckle.

"Sorry to bother you, Cornell, but you know you had a huge impact on my, uh, style back in the army," Steve explained and you weren't quite sure he was lying or telling the truth. "Ya know a juke to the body, followed by a right hook? Worked for me every time."

You thought it was cute that your partner was fanboying over one of his idols.

"Another Army fighter, Cornell? How many of these 'has beens' you get in here a week?" Another man came up from behind Cottonmouth, smirking devilishly as Steve's smile faded away into a scowl.

"At least this one still looks like he's in shape," Cottonmouth snapped.

"Oh, yeah!" you said in a low, sultry voice. "My man's in great shape. Believe me." You ran your fingers up his firm chest.

"Easy there, doll," Steve whispered loud enough for you to hear.

Cottonmouth was amused at the pair of you. "Let's see it, Army. Show us those moves that made you so famous."

You've sparred with Steve before, so you were confident in his moves. "Yeah, go ahead tiger! Show these clowns." You slapped him on his ass, making him jump.

"Yeah, maybe I will, okay? Jus- just a little.," he replied nervously, taking off his olive green jacket and handing it to you.

He walked over to the punching bag as you, Cottonmouth, and the other man looked on. "Yeah, come on, tiger," the other man mocked, who you later came to know as "Shades".

"Alright, let's see. A little, you know tap, you know," Steve nervously said as he lightly punched the punching bag. "A juke to the body, with a hard right, followed by a whole bunch of these-" He grunted as began striking the bag hard.

The three of you watched as Steve threw punches, which to be completely honest, seemed to turn you on. Looking on as the muscles in his back rippled every time he grunted as he punched the punching bag.

"He's pretty good," you heard Cottonmouth mutter to his partner Shades, shaking you from your thoughts.

You gave them a cocky grin. "So much for my 'has been' army fighter."

Cornell crossed his arms and nodded, "Not bad."

Steve grabbed the punching bag to keep it steady, then let go, walking over to you and wrapping his arms around your waist. "You know, I still got it-" he said before pressing a kiss against your cheek.

You were caught off guard as he pulled away from you. "Yeah, maybe a little too much." You gave him an I'm going to fucking kill you look.

Cornell let out a laugh. "What's your name?" he asked, clasping your partner's shoulder.

"M-My name?" Steve gulped nervously, "I-I-It's Jensen, Jake Jensen." He used the fake name you gave him. "This here's my fiancée, uh, Andrea Waldorf."

You let out a sultry chuckle, "We're more ''engaged to be engaged'."

He squeezed your waist, "Easy there, sweetheart."

"So you looking to train or what?" Asked Cottonmouth, studying Steve closely.

Your partner was flattered, "Ah, ya know, I don't fight no more." Steve replied in his thick Brooklyn accent, but they say you can direct me and Andi to a little you know, uh, 'underground action'?"

"They say a lot don't they?" Cornell raised his eyebrows in amusement, "But sorry, can't help you."

He turned towards Shades who was too busy staring at you, practically undressing you in his mind.

You feigned disappointment, "Ah, what did I tell you, baby? That guy was just trying to hit on me." You pouted, pointing at Shades, which made Steve give him a dark glare.

"Well, I do know a number you can call." Cornell answered with a cocky grin, "Not that I'd give it to just anybody."

Shades placed his hand on Cornell's shoulder, "Oh, come on, Cornell. They seem like such nice people."

"Yeah, we're nice people. Aren't we babe?" You turned towards Steve, giving him a sweet smile, which to be honest threw him off guard. Not because it was rare to see you give a smile that was directed towards him, but because it felt believable.

Just the way you would look at him and how you were dressed made his heart skip a beat.

"For you guys," Cornell's voice shook Steve from inappropriate thoughts of you, "Thousand ‘Bucks. Each."

Your partner was taken aback, "Whoa. That's a little steep-"

"No, Jakey, come on! We only live once and I want to see a fight." You walked over to the two men and pulled out a wad of cash from your cleavage and placed it on Shades' palm, making Cornell laugh at his partner's sudden expression.

"Must be a lucky man eh Jensen?" Shades raised an eyebrow at Steve who blushed, and then smiled weakly, "Yeah, I don't know what I'd do without her."

"God, It's human cock-fighting." Steve said in disgust as you both, along with the massive crowd of people watched as two men beat the living hell out of each other.

"More like lesser surrogates engaged in battles on behalf of the elite lords who don't dare to fight themselves," you replied nonchalantly, to which your partner gave you a weird look.

The two of you continued to watch the men fight until one of them punched the other so hard, he fell to the ground.

"Damn, that's gotta hurt," Steve said, not realizing the fighter heard.

The fighter got up and walked up to your partner, rage and anger etched on his face. "What in the hell are you looking at?" He growled at your partner.

Steve scoffed, "Not much. Pal"

Without warning, The fighter cocked his fist back and punched Steve hard, knocking him out.

Quickly, you rushed over to his side, "Hey Jake? Jake!" you called out to him but it was no use, he was out cold.

_______________________________________________________________

"Sorry, Rogers. I just couldn't have you blowing my cover." Said Special Agent Carl Lucas, the man who knocked your partner out cold.

"Here." You handed him an ice pack for his face, then sat down beside him.

"Thanks, Bones." Steve replied, then winced when he placed the ice pack on the side of his face and winced, "Ahhhh, yeah. And as they taught us in Quantico, Luke, I wasn't about to.

You raised an eyebrow at Steve, "Do you know everyone in this town?"

He rolled his eyes at you, then turned back to Agent Lucas, "RICO op?"

Agent Lucas chuckled, "Yeah, I've been deep undercover for about a month and I still can't crack who's running the show."

"What do you know about Cornell Stokes?" Steve asked.

Agent Lucas sat on the bed opposite the one Steve and you sat, "Ah, low-level guy, one of many buffers." He answered, "That 800 number he sells changes with every event, so trying to track is like playing whack-a-mole."

"Wait a sec," You said, getting up from the bed and grabbing your bag, pulling out a photo of Billie Morgan, "Have you ever seen her fight at the club?"

"Uh, yeah. It's, uh, Billie something right?" The agent asked as he took a closer look at the picture, "Yeah. 4-to-1 underdog. Oh, she whooped this hot white girl pretty good."

"White girl? About 5'9", left-handed?" You asked, hoping he was speaking about the fighter back at the gym.

"Yeah, Jessica Jones." Lucas answered, "Tough as nails and undefeated before your girl came along." He added, referring to Billie.

"What if Billie bet on herself?" Steve asked as he got up from the bed.

"You know what?" You replied, doing the math in your head, "With the money that Don borrowed - $8,000 - ya know, 4-to-1 odds? That had to get them to their feet in a hurry. Maybe that's what got her killed."

"Well then," Steve walked over to the nightstand and grabbed his keys, "We gotta talk to this Jessica Jones person."

"Wait, Rogers!" Agent Lucas called out, prompting your partner to turn around.

"We have a bit of a problem." The agent said softly.

"Oh?" you raised an eyebrow, "And why is that?"

He let out a low chuckle, then winced as he rubbed his right wrist, "Well, I sprained my wrist two fights ago with no chance to heal." Carl explained, " If I lose another bout, I'm off the rotation."

"So what do we do?" Steve asked as he leaned against the doorway.

The room went silent for a moment, everyone in the room thinking about a solution until you finally spoke up, "Roger's a boxer. He can replace you."

"Excuse me?" Steve questioned you.

"I'm just saying, if we can find a way to get you into the rotation, you can fight Carl and lose, and then he can stay and maybe have a chance to heal."

Steve sat there, pensive for a moment before finally nodding, "I'll do it."

______________________________________________________________

Tagging: @ariallane @always-an-evans-addict @heather-lynn @mrs-squirrel-chester @sebbytrash @shamvictoria11 @bionic-buckyb @elfwriter1088 @hello-sweetie-get-the-salt @feelmyroarrrr @hellkat2 @the-most-handsome-ginger @westoftheglass @madhattervanessa @maris-astrum @goodtanaba @deanmon-winchester-666 @lilasiannerd @angel-starbeam @dirajunara @therealsabalicious @fly-little-butterfly @danijimenezv @queen–valeskaxx @beccaheartschrisevans @daisykane535 @yourtropegirl

If anyone wants to be added or taken off the list shoot me a message!

#Bones #Marvel Au #Steve Rogers x Reader #Natasha Romanoff #Wanda Maximoff #Tony Stark #Peter Parker

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 3 years

Text

Pawn: Three

Bucky looked at you across the table. You looked sleek. Smart. Every inch the barracuda lawyer that had been keeping Tony’s legal affairs in order. And he tried his most charming smile. Anything to try and lessen the tension at the table.

You were it. Aside from Rhodes standing discreetly near by sipping coffee. Bucky wasn’t sure if he was there to spy or act as a body guard. Bucky supposed it could be both. But now that he was here, staring you in the face, somehow he wasn’t sure what to say.

He didn’t need to be charming. You’d already agreed to marry him. And even if you hadn’t, you didn’t look like you could be charmed. You look immune. And he curses himself for cutting his own balls off. He feels like he backed himself into a corner. And it rankles.

“You had quite a list for your step dad and I,” Bucky started, taking a sip of his coffee.

You shrug, almost carelessly, “If we’re doing some medieval nonsense I figure I may as well get something out of it.”

“Diamonds though?”

“A time honored tradition,” you snort. “When men hold the purse strings.”

Bucky nodded, considering that for a moment. He supposed that he knew that. His ma had told him something to that affect once. That it was important to have a back up plan and Jewelry could be pawned for quick cash. He could respect that. And it told him a little more about you. You liked to have plans. A strategy. Bucky could bet you were a killer Scrabble player. And that you probably hated when people made rash decisions.

“That contract was air tight,” he mused, “Houdini couldn’t get out of those terms.”

“Thank you,” you answer, smiling a little over your mug.

“I’m not sure that that’s a compliment,” he snorted. “You had me by the short hairs from the jump… why expend the effort?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you sigh, shrugging again. “I have a career to think about. I’m giving up a life of my own to protect criminal empires. Sure, we can be friends. We can get along. But you and I both know that I’m just a pawn in all this and you don’t see me as much of an asset.”

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. “What about love?” You didn’t mention it. And it still took him by surprise that you didn’t seem to want it.

“What about it?” you counter.

“That’s not a part of the plan?” He tried not to sound incredulous but he couldn’t tell if you were being intentionally dense or what… he hated that he couldn’t read you. He could read everyone.

“It never was before,” you shrug, “I never even planned to get married.”

“No big white wedding with your dad walking you down the aisle?” he pressed.

“Not my dad, no,” you answer shrugging. You know what he’s doing. That he’s digging. Trying to feel out the things that Tony had meticulously kept out of public view. For years Tony had worked double time since you were six to protect you. To make sure that no one could use you to get to him. And part of that had meant not being openly affectionate. In public, at least. He’d be kind, sure. But he was distant. Even occasionally visibly impatient. And even that was better than what your biological father had done.

Bucky felt his eyes narrow. You weren’t really giving him anything. Volunteering nothing. Answering in only the barest terms. He didn’t expect you to swoon, sure. But it would be nice to get SOMETHING. Anything aside from being held at arms length.

“The wedding happening at all is mostly for my mom,” you tell him shrugging.

Bucky nodded, “It’s hell being the oldest, huh?”

You smile a little, “Not really. I was out of the house when Morgan was born. And by the time Morgan gets married mom’ll have had some time to mellow out. She just loves an excuse to plan parties… And with all the legal things I’ve been doing she’s been taking over the party planning things for my charity projects.”

“Your projects?”

“She told Tony that some outreach work would probably help cops look the other way when it came to his low level guys doing some dumb shit,” Rhodey chimed in.

Bucky blinked. He’d wondered what the fuck Stark was doing. And he wasn’t sure what to say to that. It was Machiavellian. It was brilliant. Across the board, Stark had lower levels of busts. And a TON of positive press. He looked like an upstanding citizen. A business man. Bucky knew that that had irritated his dad. It had irritated him too. And he had no diea that it wasn’t even his doing, not really.

“How-”

You shrug, “I wanted to know if it would work and Tony gave me a little money to play with. Then sent me to school to learn not for profit management and law.” You shoot Rhodes a look and he shrugs. He wants Bucky to know what he’s getting. To know that your degree was earned, not bought. That any opportunity Tony had given you, you’d capitalized on. He hated watching Bucky look at you like he was looking at you. Like a stupid girl. Like an obligatory thing. And he hated that you were treating this like what it was. A business transaction. You were better than this. Better than what you were given right now. He knew it. Tony knew it. Barnes needed to know it. You were doing a all of them a favor.

____________

“How’d it go?” Tony asked, lighting a cigar.

“He’s in over his head. She’s keeping her hand in and playing it close to the chest,” Rhodes said. “Full barracuda mode.”

Tony snorted. He’d wondered before if he should have put you in therapy. He and Pepper had talked about it after everything your dad had done. But now? He was glad he hadn’t. Sure, you were going to have to be vulnerable at some point but Bucky was going to have to earn it.

Rhodes shook his head and laced his fingers behind his neck. “This is a mess, Tony,” he said, watching his friend.

“Don’t I know it,” Tony huffed, rolling his eyes. “Pepper’s on my ass, Morgan’s on my ass. The only person that doesn’t think I’m some awful tyrant is the person I’m marrying off.”

“Y/N’s got bigger balls than any of us, swear.”

And Tony chuckled, “Bless her little heart… Now I gotta figure out how to tell her that her dad is kicking up a fuss.”

“About what?” Rhodey said, sitting up. It was a knee jerk reaction. One that had long been instilled in him. The one person that had ever kidnapped you had been Jesse.

“The wedding, what else?” he scoffed. “He seems to think he gets a say.”

“Bullshit. Doesn’t he have like… a whole new family that doesn’t even know about her?”

“Two of ‘em.”

Rhodey looked towards the mantle. There was a picture of you and Morgan. You were At the park sitting on a swing. Morgan was on your lap, face sticky with blue cotton candy and beaming at the camera as you kissed the side of her head. “Does she know?”

“Not yet,” Tony said flinching. “Pep’s trying to get her alone and talk to her about it… He’s planning on brining everyone.”

“That’s gross.”

“Tell me about it,” Tony sighed. “I don’t get what the sudden interest is. He made it pretty clear that she was a “youthful mistake” and she wasn’t supposed to contact him.”

“She wasn’t a hot shot lawyer when she was 8,” Rhodey said bitterly.

#Bucky Barnes #tony stark #james rhodes #Bucky x reader #mob!bucky #Mob!AU

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adventures-written · 3 years

Text

@yoursaviourhasarrived ;; Continued from here.

“Well, I’m not overly religious so...” he shrugs, “And I haven’t seen you do any sort of Godly things. Our fight was subpar....So really, you have nothing working for you right now.”

#yoursaviourhasarrived #muse;; my only curse is you (tony stark)#XD

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starkerforlife6969 · 4 years

Text

He’s Just Not that Into You- Starker AU

It's the first week of summer and Peter's got a date.

Jacob is nice, and Peter's changed his shirt three times, and the bar is warm on this June evening, and thriving. Dancing bachelorette parties, the game on the big screen tvs hanging from the ceiling and-

Jacob's twenty minutes late.

But that's fine, Peter's fine, he pulls at his cuffs, tucks a curl behind his ear, bites his lip, refuses the temptation to look at his phone.

Maybe he should call Ned, Ned would know what to do-

"You waiting for someone, gorgeous?"

Peter looks up, feels colour rush to his cheeks. Dark eyes, a mouth that's sinful, smirking, in a tight fitting shirt and- "Oh um, no-yes- I mean." Peter manages a smile. "I might've been stood up? But, he probably- something probably came up. Or maybe I had the date wrong."

Smirk looks at him. Sizes him up. "Let me buy you a drink, bambi." He says.

After two drinks, Peter Parker thinks Tony Stark might be his saviour.

He's twenty two, the same age as Peter, but he's got it all- got it all figured out.

"So- Jacob didn't really like me. The phone number was fake." He realises aloud.

"If the guy likes you," Tony nods sagely, sipping his dakiri, "he'll take your number and give you his. He gave you a fake number, bet he didn't ask for yours, right?"

Peter wilts a little. Sighing at his own foolishness. "Right. I thought we had a good time."

Tony reaches over to nudge him. "You need to know what to look for, that's all. When to reel them in. When to get keen. I know guys like you, sweet guys- no disrespect, but you take every little thing as some sort of sign. Oh, he smiled at me or he picked up my pen-"

"But he smiled at me and he did not smile at anyone else-"

"Pete," Tony chuckles, "romcoms have ruined you. Naive-"

"Optimistic."

"Naive." Tony insists, bright-eyed. "Just because you met in a library and you both reached for the same edition of Harry Potter at the same time-"

Peter smacks him. "You're such a Slytherin." He glares.

Tony winks at him. "Hufflepuff, you gotta know how to play the game."

Peter mixes his drink. Muses. "I didn't think love was a game." He admits softly, deflating. The bar's deflated a little now too. Emptier. The TVs are off. The music is quiet and gentle. Here are he and Tony, cluttered over a small table.

"Love is a game, Peter. And we're gonna help you win."

They stay there for a few hours yet. Going over Peter's past relationships. Flash, MJ, Gwen, Jacob-

Going over Peter's blind date tactics, how to read people, how to know when to cut the chord- but Tony doesn't mind Peter's bumbling idiocy. He likes helping people. And Peter's sweet, the sort of sweet Tony hasn't seen in a long time. That isn't available in the private boarding schools he grew up in. That wasn't allowed through the pristine hard wood front doors.

"Oh, hey," Peter says, slurring just a little. The drinks he'd had were mostly sugar, not alcohol. "It's empty- is it closed?" He gapes, looking around, all fawn-like.

"It's fine, bambi," Tony grins, sliding his arm under Peter's, guiding him to the door. "My dad owns the place. I'll lock up. You all good getting home?"

"I'll call a cab." Peter nods, wincing at the cool night air. Tony locks up, before turning to look down at his new friend.

"It's good meeting you, Pete." He says, grinning, and Peter beams up at him.

"I know you said not to read into anything, but- wouldn't it be romantic if we fell in love? Like, you saved me from being stood up-"

Tony clamps his hand over Peter's mouth, tutting fondly. This kid. "Not that kinda movie, sweetheart. I'll be the mentor. The guide. The Yoda to your Luke."

Peter nods, and Tony removes his hand. Peter smiles beatifically up at him. "Alright. Thank you, sensei. I will resolve to follow your council."

Tony likes him. Wants to see him do well. Had hated the sight of the kid (not a kid, the same age, but Peter doesn't seem it. Full of idealism and princess stories) being stood up. Tony wants to see him happy. In love. Not getting played. Just because it's not for Tony, doesn't mean he doesn't want Peter to have it. "Here, take my number." Tony says, taking Peter's phone, typing in his number and sending himself a text. "Call me whenever you have a question."

Peter takes the phone gratefully. Cradles it in his palm. "Take you up on that I will."

Tony flicks his head. "I'm Yoda, nitwit."

"Hurt that did." Peter pouts, and Tony laughs into the night air, and hopes Peter calls.

Beck is hot, hard muscle, and Peter's only slightly uncomfortable from his position being pinned on the couch- the bony arm rest digging into his back, but that's all fine, because Beck tastes like toothpaste and his hands make Peter shudder-

They'd met yesterday, at a coffee shop. They'd both reached for the pumpkin spiced latte. Had both laughed. Exchanged numbers. It was a perfect meet-cute.

And Beck had called Peter. He's reading all the signs right, he's sure of it.

Peter curses when his phone buzzes. His boss wants his article done by tonight. New deadline. He sighs, pulling out from Beck's grip. "Sorry," he says earnestly, "I've gotta go. My boss needs this."

Beck nods, flushed, half-hard, hair falling attractively into his face. "I get it, but you can do your work here? Hm? I'll order take out, you can spend the night..."

Beck's hands slide up Peter's shirt, massage the taut muscle there. Peter relaxes into the touch, just a little. "That sounds nice..." he confesses, before laughing, "but I would never get anything done with you here."

Beck kisses his neck, bristly, goose-bump inducing. "Would that be so bad?" He murmurs.

"I really can't..."

"It just sucks," Beck sighs, pulling away. "Because I'm going out of town tomorrow and won't be in touch for a while. I'll just miss you."

Out of town? Peter's head rings. He's not sure what to make of it. Is it a play? Does Beck like him? Does he just want sex? If Peter stays tonight, will he never see Beck again?

"Can I go to the bathroom?" He blurts, like he's in school and Beck blinks at him, bewildered, but gestures with his hand.

He finds Tony's number under Sexy Yoda which is just- mental images that Peter does not need right now- and he dials.

"Pete, you called." Tony says warmly, answering on the second ring.

"Oh hey, hi- Tony," Peter bleats, sitting on the bathtub and thrumming his fingers. "I'm in a situation- need advice."

"Ah, amazing- one sec." Then, quieter, "Hey, Pep, d'ya mind? I'll be back in 10."

"Hope I'm not interrupting!"

"Not at all. So, where we at?"

"Okay, so, making out- I say I have to go, he says I should stay- I say I can't- then he says that he'll be leaving tomorrow so will be out of touch."

"Run." Tony says immediately, and Peter's face falls.

"What? No," he whines, "What if he really is just going out of town?"

"Peter." Tony says, in that no-nonsense voice, "Where could he possibly be going in the world that would mean he couldn't talk to you over the phone? He wants a hook up. Do you want a hook up?"

Miserably: "No."

"Well then, like I said: Run."

Peter sighs. "So, he doesn't like me?"

"Sure he likes you. Likes the thought of you in his bed. Who wouldn't? You're very cute. But he does not want a relationship. I sure don't respect the guy for trying to trick you into it, I'm upfront with all my one-night stands. It's just sex: nothing more."

"I'm thrilled for you." Peter remarks dryly. "So, run?"

"Run."

Peter runs.

***

In yoga class, the new instructor, Stephen, compliments his form and then asks him out to dinner.

"Run." Tony says, mouthful of something, on his lunch break.

Peter pecks at his own chicken salad. "Why? We haven't even gone out yet."

"Pete, do I have to spell it out for you? Yoga? Bending over, flexibility, bet you've got tight yoga pants and everything."

Peter wipes a drop of dressing off his keyboard. "Not everyone is as physically minded as you are. Maybe he thought we'd get on."

"He's asked you out based on nothing but the way you look doing the downward dog. Waste of time."

"I think you're wrong. I'm going to meet him for dinner."

Tony sighs. It crinkles down the receiver with disapproval. "Go for it. I'll eagerly await your apology."

When Peter does apologise, two days later, Tony is nice enough not to rub it in.

***

Mr Jameson is tough on the edges, but a softie deep down, Peter knows that.

Which is why he tries not to let the very brutal edits on his latest piece get him down. They're all very fair. So, he works through them methodically, learning, trying to improve, and not let them get him down.

It's late afternoon, he's in the zone, when his phone buzzes.

He picks it up absentmindedly, one knee drawn to his chest on his bed, other hand still scrolling through the word document.

"Hello?"

"Hey Pete, how goes the search for love?"

"Tony." Peter beams, warm all over, pushing away his laptop and collapsing back into his pillows. "How are you?"

"Good, good, bar's busy. Dad's happy enough with me managing it. New receptionist hates me, though."

"Pepper?"

"Yeah. I told her it was just sex- she misread the signs. Don't be like her, Peter."

"If a person wants to be with you, they'll ask you out, they'll make it happen." Peter recites: Tony's number one rule.

"Atta boy. What about you? Jameson like your piece?"

"A few edits. I'm working through them now. Actually- the photographer, Eddy, he's nice, handsome, might be into me?"

"Might?"

"Well, I don't know. He's never said anything. Am I allowed to ask anyone out? Or is that against the rules?"

"You can definitely ask someone out." Tony hums, "just make sure you can read their response. Ask him out, if he's busy- he's not into you. If he leaps at the chance, well, you've nailed it."

"Okay," Peter nods, excited. "Where should I ask him to go? Dinner? Is that too boring?"

"Hockey game, a movie, hell, a stake-out, it doesn't matter, just don't read into anything that isn't there."

"I won't. Thanks for the help, Tony, really," Peter says, "And sorry to call you on a Saturday."

"No worries, Bambi. Let me know how it goes with Eddy."

"Let me know if Pepper forgives you!"

Peter falls back into his work. Doesn't realise until just before he goes to sleep that actually- Tony called him.

***

"He said no." Comes Peter's voice through the ear-piece, as Tony debates whether to make himself a kale or spinach smoothie at home later. Both packs of green look equally healthy.

Tony dumps them both in the basket. Ignores the guy leering at him in favour of turning Peter up a little. "I'm sorry, kid. But better you know now than later, right?"

When Peter speaks, his throat sounds clogged "I guess." He says forlornly.

Tony cocks his head. Listens. Thinks. "How far into that tub of Ben and Jerry's are you, Pete?"

A pause. Tony grins: got him.

"I'm not...It's chocolate Fudge. There's um..." a spoon scrapes again soggy paper, "not much left?"

"No wallowing, rule number two, you know that."

"I know." Peter whines, "but I thought he liked me, maybe he did- you know he said, he was going through something right now, a recent break up, but that maybe someday-"

"It's a brush off." Tony insists, "don't read into anything that isn't there-"

"Maybe he did really just-"

"Okay." Tony says, setting his basket on the conveyer belt and pinching the bridge of his nose. "We need to get you back on the horse. I know a guy who might be into you: Steve. Wholesome, boring sort. Your kind of guy?"

"Well, when you say it like that, how can I resist?"

Tony shakes his head, smiling. "C'mon now, he's handsome. Very American. Tall, blonde, served in the Army for a bit, now he's some sort of do-gooder activist."

"Well that doesn't sound- so bad."

"And the best part? I think he might like you."

"I was beginning to think that was impossible."

Tony hands over his card, snorting. "No pity parties. You're easy on the eyes. Got those big bambi ones, those little freckles, long legs too, considering you're so short. It's nice. It's a good look." He can picture it, actually, those long legs wrapped around his hips. Peter's slender neck, fluffy hair spread out over the pillow- he needs to get laid today. Again. "I'll invite him to dinner, introduce the two of you. How's tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Peter squeals, excited, the sound of an empty ice cream tub being tossed aside. "I haven't got anything to wear."

Tony thinks of Peter's cream skin. Of his honey eyes. "Something tight. Maroon if you have it, anything sheer. Please, for god's sake, not that mustard monstrosity."

"I love that sweater!"

Tony carries his bags out to the car, feels the warm sun beat down on his face. "Oh hey, it's kinda nice out." He realises.

Peter sighs contentedly over the line. "It really is. DJ Ravioli loves it."

Tony stops by his car. Closes his eyes. "Who the fuck," he says, "is DJ Ravioli?"

"It's my cat-"

"Of course," he laughs, getting into the car, turning on the AC. "Of course it is. In every Romcom, what does the main character have? Some ugly ass cat-"

"Hey!"

"And DJ Ravioli! What kind of a name is that?"

"He's such a cutie-wootie, yes you are my little ravioli-cannoli."

"Goodbye, Peter!" Tony yells, hanging up the call.

He can't stop smiling the rest of the way home.

***

Peter's early. That's because he was raised with Ben's if you're not early, you're late mantra, and now he's sitting in a fancy restaurant, fiddling with the tablecloth.

MJ's done his hair. Crimped and weird, but he thinks overall he looks okay. He's taken Tony's tips, in a thin, flouncy maroon shirt tucked into very tight jeans. He better not eat too much. Not sure he could if he wanted to.

"Good evening, Sir," says the waitress, eyes kind, "are you ready to order?"

"Oh um, not just yet," Peter smiles, "I'm waiting for..." he gestures to the two empty seats.

She nods, stepping back.

Oh god, is he being stood up again-

Relief and pleasure seeps through him as Tony appears. He's in a plain black sweater, but he might as well be a model in how it stretches over him. He leans down, pecks Peter's cheek (warm, he's warm, and he smells like cologne) before collapsing into one of the seats and gesturing the waitress over.

"I messed up, Pete," he says, by way of greeting, having a glance through the menu.

Peter blinks, a little dazed. "Huh?"

"Steve. He's not free tonight. I'll reschedule it, I promise."

"Oh." Peter nods, "okay, so-"

"It's just us two tonight, that alright? You can bear my company?" Tony wiggles his eyebrows, and Peter laughs. His nerves leave him, he can relax now.

"I think I can just about tolerate it. How's Pepper?"

Tony winces.

Peter laughs.

***

Tony, for all his playboy moves, is such a gentlemen, Peter thinks. He'd picked up the whole bill, hadn't given Peter a chance to offer half.

And now Peter's full of lobster, warm and sated, and Tony is a warm line of heat against his back as he unlocks his front door.

"Mm, it's cozy," Tony hums into his ear, as they shuffle inside and Peter closes the door, sleepy and a little- excited. To have Tony here, in his apartment, late at night- "Oh, there he is. Little monster."

And to Peter's surprise, Tony leans down and scoops DJ Ravioli into his arms. The fat cat barely protests, using the new position to stretch his spine.

Peter grins, can't help, it and takes a photo on his phone.

Tony glares at him.

"What?" He giggles, "I thought you didn't like cats."

"Never said I didn't like 'em," Tony hums, thumb rubbing beneath DJ Ravioli's ears, "just said they're a cliche, that's all. In every love story, there's the damn cat. And it hates the bad guy- scratches them up- and loves the good guy, because somehow, the cat knows who you're meant to be with."

Peter lifts his eyebrows. "Well, DJ Ravioli likes you."

"Guess I must be the good guy." Tony quips, rolling his eyes. He takes his own phone out then, arranging himself for a selfie. He'll send it to his mom. The cat blinks lazily at the camera.

Just as Tony takes the picture, Peter slides into frame, stretching onto his tiptoes, finger's bunny ears behind Tony's head.

Tony shoves him playfully. "You're a photo crasher, Peter Parker. A photo bomber. A fiend. A nightmare." He sets the cat down, watches his waddle away. "And you're overfeeding that cat."

Peter flips him the bird then, and is rewarded with Tony's loud bark of laughter.

They drink coffee, Tony judges the way Peter organises his kitchen, and then at 2am, Peter pouts and says:

"These jeans are really tight. Do you mind if I change?"

Tony sips his coffee, side-eyes him. "Don't try to seduce me, Parker."

Peter snorts, grateful to shuffle into his bedroom and peel the jeans off him. He pulls on his Hello Kitty Sweat Pants and an oversized science tee, feeling immeasurably more comfortable. He pulls on his fluffiest socks, feels a little bad he can't offer Tony something to wear. They'd all be too tight.

He presents himself with a twirl. "Seduction at it's finest." He teases, and Tony looks him over; something warm and soft in his gaze that makes Peter blush.

"It's not bad." Tony murmurs, turning back to his coffee cup. "Well, it's-" he clears his throat, "late, Pete. I should go."

Peter wiggles his toes in his socks, wants to crawl into bed. "Okay. Thanks for dinner."

"Thanks for..." Tony looks around, chuckles. "Having me. You should come by tomorrow. See how the other, better half lives."

Peter walks him to the door. Tony stoops down to rub a knuckle along DJ Raviol's back. The tail wraps around his wrist. Tony disentangles himself gently. "Around 6?"

Tony beams at him. "Perfect."

***

When Peter wakes up in the morning, everything becomes clear.

Tony likes him.

He tries not to get swept away in the realisation of it. Tries to be rational, to follow the points.

1) Tony had given Peter his number and taken Peter's.

2) Tony calls him. They talk all night, sometimes. Tony's left dates, make-out sessions, to talk to Peter.

3) The mysterious 'Steve' that never showed up. Or perhaps, never existed at all.

Peter scribbles these into his notebook. Could it be? Tony's so...handsome. Clever. Funny. Why would he be into- but no-

Tony thinks he's handsome. Said so himself. Said Peter had bambi eyes (a pet name- that's a sign, Peter writes it down) and long legs. Said he looked nice in maroon.

They're saved under cute nicknames in each other's phone. DJ Ravioli likes Tony! And there's Tony eyes- something warm and soft that Peter sees from time to time.

And the fact that Tony saved him from being stood up. It's a perfect meet-cute.

Peter squeals. Tony's invited him over tonight. Never pressured him into sex- it must be something.

He spins on the kitchen stool and dreams of happily ever after.

***

The radio plays as they wash the dishes. Tony washes, Peter dries. Their hips bump.

It's nice, Tony thinks, as they hum along. His penthouse- big, empty, most of the times- except when he's having parties loud enough to upset the neighbours, but even those- they don't compare to this quiet company of Peter Parker.

Peter screeches as he hits a high note, so Tony turns the faucet on him, laughing as Peter splutters, slapping him with the rag.

Tony doesn't want to point out he he has dishwasher. He likes this.

Once they're done, he collapses onto the couch, watches as Peter ambles around before coming to stand in front of him. He looks thoughtful. He's wearing that gross mustard sweater that Tony kinda likes now, if only for the way it makes Peter looks soft and cuddly.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks, trying to read Peter's mind. He's good at reading people, great at reading Peter, but not tonight. He can't quite gauge it.

Then Peter, in his ugly sweater, beautiful, with a grace Tony suspected but didn't know Peter possessed- straddles him on the couch, and kisses him.

Tony feels those long legs, spread wide over his own knees, feels the heat of Peter's core, those lily hands against his cheeks, that soft, soft mouth against his own.

He moans appreciatively, opening his mouth, taking control. His own hands coming to wrap around Peter's waist and-

"I knew it," Peter whispers, pleased as punch against his cheek, "we're in love."

Tony splutters, a cold wash of water against the pleasing heat that was working it's way down his body. "We're- what-" he pushes Peter away a little, from where those teeth were nipping his ear.

Peter sits back, still fucking straddling him, still looking as innocent as a wall-flower, one hand still poisoned above Tony's denim-clad dick. "We're in love," Peter repeats, beaming. "We're dating."

Tony scoffs, erection wilting. "Well, gee, Pete, was I ever gonna know about any of this? In what universe are we dating?"

"We-" Peter frowns, swallowing hard. "I- you liked me? The signs-"

"What signs?!" Tony fumes, pressure mounting, pushing on his chest. "Jesus Christ, Pete." He pushes Peter off him, gets to his feet. "What the fuck?"

"I..." Peter sits, mussed, on the couch, staring up at him. "You- you took my number. You call me, S-Steve didn't show up- you- you- we talk all night, we made dinner, we washed up- you came over- I thought-"

"What did I say? What did I say?" Tony hisses, raking his hands through his hair. "If a guy is into you, Peter, he will ask you out. Or you ask him out. Did I ask you out?"

Peter eyes are swimming with tears. He looks flushed with humiliation and great, now Tony's a massive jerk. "N-no."

"Peter." Tony can't look at him, turns and bangs his head against the wall. "Why- why do people do this? Read into nothing. There is nothing between us but friendship. And now..." he whirls back to Peter accusingly. "Now you've ruined our friendship. You look for all these tiny, insignificant moments. I gave you my number because I wanted to help you, Steve genuinely couldn't make the day, I invited you over here because we're friends. I've never made a move on you, never asked you out, and you've never asked me out. You know, you know I don't do relationships. Why? Why do people think that they're the exception? You're not the exception, Pete, you're not gonna change me. You're the rule, and the rule is: if I liked you, I would've asked you out. But I didn't, so I don't."

He has to catch his breath once he's done. Peter's still sitting there, eyes watering- but not crying. The air is tense. Thick.

"God, Pete," Tony says gently, "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but- no. We're not in a relationship. We're not dating. I'm not into you."

They're mean. Cruel words. But they're true. Tony's a straight-forward, up-front kind of guy. He turns to his kitchen, pours himself a drink. Fuck, what a night.

"I don't want to be like you." Comes the quiet voice from the living room.

Tony sets down the brandy, whirls towards Peter with a scoff. "Excuse me?"

Peter looks up at him, still red-faced, but brave. "I don't want to be like you. Going around, using people. Never finding love, never looking for it. Never getting- excited at a smile, or wondering what your life with someone might be like. I like hoping. I like dreaming and meet-cutes, and big, unrealistic romantic gestures, I like that."

Tony sneers, shaking his head. "Fine. I'll be over here, living in the real world."

Peter gets to his feet, grabs his bag, wipes his face. "You do that, Tony, you live all alone in the real world. You won't find any happiness like that."

"At least I won't get rejected twice a week!" Tony yells, as Peter heads for the door.

Peter turns back, hand on the door knob, angry. "I'd rather get rejected knowing that it means I'm closer to my happily ever after. I'll take rejection after rejection, Tony."

"Well done," Tony claps, "this is another one to add to your dossier."

The door slams and Tony's alone and there's no one to yell at so he throws his glass of brandy across the kitchen. The stupid sturdy glass doesn't even break, the liquid just drips down onto the tile and he'll have to clean it up later.

It's been three days.

Surely Peter's still not angry with him after three days. Sure, Tony said some stuff, but it was- heat of the moment. They're friends.

He rubs his temples, puts down the paper work- can't read the words. He needs to sign off on payrolls, order more stock, sort out the overtime policy-

He takes out his phone. No messages. No calls.

The door opens, and Pepper walks in, professional, the last dredges of her anger with him mostly gone. "Hey Tony, a few more for you to sign." She sets down the papers.

"Thanks," he mutters. No DMs on twitter. Nothing on instagram. He opens Facebook.

"Oh my god."

Tony looks up, startled at Pepper's expression of delight. "What?" He asks, eyes flicking down- nothing on Facebook. Email, maybe?

"Who are they?"

"Who are who?"

"The special someone." She laughs, eyes bright with disbelief. "Who's got you checking your phone obsessively, wondering when they'll call."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Tony says, putting his phone away. "You may go."

"You haven't been able to concentrate all day," she muses, perching on the edge of his desk, perfectly comfortable. He misses the days she couldn't stand to be in the same room as him. "You put Javier on dishes and Rebecca at the bar- rookie error. You keep asking if anyone's called the bar for you- you haven't shaved. And is that the same shirt as yesterday-"

"No." Tony says emphatically, self-conscious and sweaty, "just go. Please."

Pepper gets to her feet, laughs again. "The world of love. Welcome to it, asshole."

When she's gone, Tony sits there. Fingers itching for his phone.

"Shit." He mutters to himself.

***

He sends Peter a message. A text. He says: Pete, I'm sorry about what happened. Can we talk? Brunch, maybe? I want us to be friends.

He doesn't get an answer.

He wants to hurl his phone against the wall in frustration. What the fuck.

He paces relentlessly. Keeps his phone charged.

Peter posts on instagram, it's a photo of DJ Ravioli asleep in a sunbeam, with the caption another nice, sunny day

What does that mean? Tony had said to Peter once that it was a nice day- is this a reference to that? A secret meaning? Should he like the photo? Should he not?

He finds himself driving past Peter's apartment late at night. Sometimes the lights are on. Sometimes they're not.

Tony wonders if he's eating ice cream. If he's in those stupid pyjamas. If Jameson liked the latest revisions. Wonders if he's petting the cat.

Wonders if he's thinking about Tony.

His phone buzzes, and he nearly drops it in his haste to check it.

It's from his mom.

Sorry, got a new phone, didn't see this till just now- what a cutie! Is he yours? (I don't mean the cat), you look so happy, sweetheart. Also, are you eating enough? Your dad says hi!

Tony clicks on it. Sees the photo he sent her. Captured mid-laughter, Tony is beaming, face turned to Peter, who's gorgeous, beaming, lovely-

Tony looks at his own expression. Has he ever looked at someone like that before? The way he's looking at Peter in this photo?

He does look happy. He looks...home.

"-ey Tony. Is this recording? Hey Tony, it's Steve! I just wanted to let you know I ran into Peter- your Peter- at the flower garden in Harlem today. How crazy is that? Must be fate. He's amazing, you're a matchmaker. We've got a date tonight- I'll let you know how it goes!"

Tony listens to the message three times. A voice mail, of course, because Steve might as well be from the 1940s.

There's a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. What does that mean? That the very person Tony thought Peter would get on with is the one he bumped into in Harlem? In a flower garden. Peter was probably surrounded by foxgloves, ridiculously beautiful in his dandelion cardigan, streaks of suncream still on his face.

Maybe Steve had come up to him, said that Peter was a more beautiful view than the flowers. Steve is gross like that.

And Peter probably- probably liked it. Thought Steve was handsome, because Steve is. Probably blushed the way he blushes whenever someone compliments him, like he never received enough. The amount he deserved. Probably said something lame like "you're not so bad yourself."

He wonders how Peter reacted when Steve brought Tony up, brought up their link. Their almost.

Did he ask about Tony? Steve's message hadn't said anything- so Peter obviously hadn't said anything bad. That must mean something.

Going out tonight. Peter's going out tonight.

Tony doesn't want Peter to go out tonight. He wants to lie in Peter with bed, with that fat cat, and watch TV and talk and order Chinese. Wants to kiss Peter- wants to-

"Oh," he whispers, fingers shaking, he presses his hands together. This is love. He's in love. With Peter. He's been in love with Peter since-

He remembers the sight of him at the bar. Beautiful. Sweet. Idealistic like Tony couldn't believe and-

Goddamn it. Tony's loved him the moment he first laid eyes on him.

And he's fucked it all up.

***

He sees Steve on the way up. He hides behind a plant, peeks out behind leaves. Steve is whistling, smiling, pleased. Okay, well, so, they had a good date- but Peter didn't let him in for a nightcap. That must mean something.

Tony hurries upstairs, heart pounding. He knocks on the door of Peter's apartment, tries to control his hair and-

"Oh good, you forgot your coat!" Comes Peter's voice, pleased, and the door opens and-

It's Peter.

He's in Steve's coat. It's draped over his shoulders. There's stardust in his eyes, he's wearing chinos and a hideous flannel shirt and-

"Peter." Tony breathes, wants to kiss him. Wants to pull that coat off him and burn it.

Peter stands firm in the door. Doesn't move to let him in. His face closes off. "What are you doing here, Tony?"

"I can't sleep," he blurts, aware of the wreck he must look. "Can't eat. Can't think straight. I keep- driving past this place, wondering if you're up, what you're doing, if you're thinking about me. I keep- wanting to call. To find any excuse to- I keep replaying all our- moments, I'm- I'm becoming-"

"Me." Peter finishes, he looks up at Tony with his huge eyes.

"Bambi," Tony whispers, and Peter flinches away, shaking his head.

"Tony, I just...I just went on a date with Steve-"

"I know." He whispers. Hating himself already. He's left it too late. Should've come sooner, should've realised earlier.

"And I think he- he actually likes me, Tony. He doesn't see love like it's a game, he calls when he says he'll call and he's not scared of relationships-"

"I'm not scared anymore." Tony whispers, taking another step forward, "I can be yours-"

"But you didn't want to be!" Peter cries, shaking his head. Pain etched across his face, and Tony remembers his words. How cruel, how wrong he was. "I threw myself at you, and you didn't want me-"

"I was wrong. I was wrong, Pete, and you were right. About everything. I didn't- I'm so used to doing the same thing, of keeping people at arms length, that when I actually fell-" the words choke in his throat, "-in love- I didn't- I didn't know. I didn't realise."

Peter stares at him, closes his eyes. There's a long beat of silence. "Tony," he whispers, composing himself, "a wise Yoda once told me that if someone wants to date you, they'll make it happen. That I'm the rule, not the-"

He can't take it. Not another moment. Not another unbearable second of Peter thinking that Tony doesn't want him-

So, he kisses him.

It's awkward, and desperate, and then- gentle. He cradles Peter's face in his hands, kisses him long, and slow and endless. Tries to pour all the love, and the hope and the fire he's been carrying for Peter since the moment he saw him.

When they pull apart, Tony doesn't step back. Stays close. Hopeful. Pleading.

Peter's eyes flutter open, like a prince in a fairytale, like the leading star in a romance. "I'm the exception," he whispers, hands on Tony's chest.

Tony's heart thunders with truth. "You are my exception." He breathes, pulling Peter and his gorgeous smile in for another kiss. His hands push Steve's coat from off his shoulders, he steps on it for good measure, and he swallows Peter's laughter, nearly trips over DJ Ravioli, and kicks the door shut behind them.

They spend the next day in bed, watching tv, and they order Chinese food.

Peter checks his work emails, and Tony reaches over and kisses him like he can't help it. Peter laughs, kissing back for a moment, before pulling away. "Am I that irresistible?" He teases.

Tony looks up at him from his side of the bed, eyes earnest. "Yes." He says solemnly. "You are."

"Does that mean I get the last spring roll?"

Tony winces. "I already gave it to the cat."

"Oh well," Peter sighs, collapsing into Tony's arms, tossing the phone away. "You'll just have to make it up to me somehow."

Tony starts to pepper him with kisses. Hands slip under Peter's shirt. "I can do that. I can do that every day for the rest of our lives."

Peter hums, vibrating with glee, "and is this the first day of Happily Ever After?"

"Baby," Tony grins, brushing the cat hair from Peter's forehead, and kissing him again, and again, "I think it just might be."

#starker #peter x tony #young tony #romcom au #angst with a happy ending #mutual pining #he's just not that into you au #precious peter parker #tony stark has a heart

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spooderboyandtincan · 4 years

Text

The 12(ish) Days of December

A/N: I intended to write a Hanukkah themed chapter, but unfortunately I suffered some burnout and I couldn’t really start it :(((((( I plan and hope to add on to this in the future, I just wanted to get it out here on time! Happy Holidays everyone!!

Read on Ao3

/ST*RKERS DNI/

“Che palle!” May cried as she and Peter stepped out of the elevator. “Tony, what the hell is that?!”

“It’s a giant teddy bear,” Tony called back from the kitchen. “It’s for you, Pete!”

“Me?” Peter gasped, his face lighting up. He charged toward the ten-foot teddy bear and tackled it. The giant brown bear teetered slightly with his weight but didn’t tip over. “He’s so soft!”

Tony came out of the kitchen with a wide grin on his face. He wiped his flour-coated hands on his pants and tried to give Peter a hug without pushing him off the bear,

“He’s so beautiful!” Peter giggled, wrapping his arms around the bear’s neck. “And huge!”

Tony nodded in a proud, self-satisfied sort of way. Besides being delighted that the boy clearly adored his gift, he now had proof that this was obviously how one should react when presented with a ten-foot-tall stuffed animal. He'd have to take a picture and send it to Pepper.

May tossed her purse on the floor and shook her head at Tony. “As long as you can find a place for it, I’m not complaining,” she chuckled.

“I’ll rent a storage unit somewhere,” Tony supplied, taking a sip of coffee from his Iron Man shaped mug. Tony treasured that mug, which had been gifted to him by Peter several months ago. He never brought it in the lab for fear that Dum-E or U would break it, and he kept it in the cabinet next to his “1# IronDad” mug (also a precious gift from his kid).

He looked back to Peter, who had wrapped his arms around the bear, which was tilting dangerously. “Be careful, kiddo,” he said, biting his lip. But the moment the words got out of his mouth, Peter and the gigantic teddy bear started to topple to the ground.

“Shit-!” he began, darting forward, only to be met by Peter’s giggles.

“Nooo. Leave me. ‘M comfy.” He rolled onto the bear’s big belly and sprawled across it. “This’s perfect,” he hummed, closing his eyes.

Tony and May shared a slightly exasperated yet fond glance. Tony flopped down next to Peter, tucking a curl behind his ear. “Now that I think about it, spider-baby,” he mused, “I’ve got something else for ya.”

Peter perked up and opened his eyes. “What?”

Tony gave him a large grin and ran a hand through his curls. “C’mere.” He wrapped an arm around his shoulders and led Peter to his room.

May sighed. “I swear to god, Tony, if you’re giving him an Audi….” she muttered.

“I’m not!” the man insisted. Peter rolled his eyes and sat down on his bead.

Tony put a warm palm over his eyes. “Close your eyes, bud.”

Peter tried to keep his eyes closed as Tony ran to his own room, tearing through what sounded like wrapping paper and knocking boxes over with no absence of cursing.

Moments later, a small, leather 4x4 inch box was placed on his open palm. He opened his eyes and looked first at the box, then at up Tony, who smiled. May shrugged and gestured to open it.

Inside the box rested a thin, slender watch with a smooth black strap. The face of the watch was rectangular, and when Peter pushed the button on the side it lit up, displaying the time above what looked like a mini arc reactor. It resembled the StarkWatch he was wearing that very moment, except it looked more high-tech.

“A new StarkWatch, specially customized for you, by yours truly,” Tony said. “Your old one looked pretty busted, even though they’re supposed to be indestructible.” Peter snickered at Tony’s gentle jab. “And it’s got a few minor upgrades. You can set the lock screen, for one. And it should be trackable from anywhere in the universe, and I mean everywhere. And you can call me, or May, or Ned or Rhodey or whoever from the top of Mount Everest or the bottom of the Mariana Trench.”

“Wow,” Peter whispered, tracing the sides of the watch before strapping it onto his wrist. “Thank you, Mister Stark! I love it! It’s so cool!”

“What happened to ‘Tony?’” he grumbled playfully, giving his spider-baby a kiss on his head. “I’m glad you like it, buddy. It’s basically the same stuff as your old one, just better.”

Then, to both Peter and May’s surprise, Tony bent down and grabbed a colorful red bag covered in golden glitter. Peter laughed.

“Tony, it’s only the ninth!” May snorted, her eyebrows raised past her hairline.

“That’s because we’ll need these before Christmas,” Tony said wisely. He handed Peter a soft package wrapped in green tissue paper and watched him tear the packaging in half.

“It’s so ugly!” he cried, holding up a garish green sweater. There was a plastic red ball attached to the big reindeer's nose and tiny bells were tied onto the reindeer’s harness. Little snowflakes were patterned all over, and Peter couldn’t help but laugh. “I love it, Tony!” Peter pulled the sweater on and was delighted to find that the fabric was incredibly soft, instead of the unbearably itchy sweaters he had owned in the past. “It’s perfect!”

Tony laughed fondly at his already thrilled kid. “If you think it’s good now, wait till you see this. FRI, lights off,” he ordered.

Peter felt Tony fumble with something on his shoulder, and suddenly the sweater lit up. The reindeer’s nose lit up bright red, the snowflakes began to glow, and, as cliché as it might have sounded, the bells gave a merry jingle as Peter laughed.

“I love it!” He tackled Tony with a hug, relaxing slightly in the man’s arms.

“Good,” Tony chuckled, “‘Cause I’ve got about three more for you and your aunt each.”

“Tony, where’re we going?” Peter whined, his breath fogging the window. “Tell meeee!”

“My lips are sealed,” Tony said, pretending to zip his lips shut and throw away the key. “We’re almost there, Rudolph, don’t worry.”

“Rudolph?!” Peter snorted.

Tony reached over the console to ruffle his hair. “I thought you might want a Christmas nickname,” he explained. “Plus, y’know, you already had a nickname available that only required a bit of simple reconstruction, Roo.”

Peter shook his head. “Just tell meeee!”

“No. Never.”

“Pleeease?”

“I physically can’t, buddy.”

“Tell me! Tellmetellmetellme pleeeeeeeeease?”

“Will… to keep secrets… decreasing,” Tony said robotically. “Fine. We’re going ice-skating, Petey-Pie.”

Peter gasped, his big chocolate eyes going wide. “Really?!”

Tony grinned and glanced over to his kid. “Really.” He wished he could stop the car and give his sweet boy a hug.

“But…” Peter bit his lip. “I don’t really know how. I mean, I went ice skating with Ned a few years ago but we mostly fell over and bruised our butts.”

Tony chuckled fondly. “That’s okay kiddie, I’ll show you the arts. Rhodey and I went when we were in college, and man, we had a blast laughing at each other. Oh- we’re here!”

“Tony, I don’t have any skates!” Peter realized as they hopped out of the car.

“I already got you some, Pete, don’t worry,” Tony assured him. He opened the trunk of the car. “And I brought you an extra hat, a coat, a scarf, some better gloves, extra socks and a pair of snow pants.”

“Tony,” Peter began, leaning into the hug the man offered him all the same. He grumbled and rolled his eyes but let Tony wrap a scarf around his neck and trade his thin woolen gloves out for much warmer, thicker ones. Peter had to admit he felt a lot warmer. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Thanks, Pete. M’kay, I’ve got these fancy red and blue skates for you and red and gold for me.”

“And I’m sure the color choices were random?” Peter asked sarcastically. “Wait- these have the Spider-Man logo on them! Mr. Stark, are there Spider-Man ice-skates?!”

Tony bent to kiss his forehead. “There are, Pete. Pretty cool, huh?”

“So cool! I love ‘em, thank you, Tony!” He held up the skates to admire them. “They’re great!”

“No problem, buddy. It was my pleasure.”

Peter flopped down in the snow and pulled on his skates. He looked up to admire the tall oak and pine trees swaying gently with the wind, the last leaves of fall scattering along the icy roads. A pair of snowflakes drifted down to his coat, and Peter felt a sort of peace flow through him.

“Petey? Are you comin’?” Tony called, skating back and forth along the edge of the pond. Peter knotted the laces of his skates tightly and struggled to his feet.

“I’m trying!” he yelled, staggering forward. He leaned over the ice and felt a bit dizzy. It was about a foot down to the actual ice, and Peter knew without a doubt that he would slip if he tried to get down. “I dunno, um….”

“I gotcha, Petey, don’t worry.” Tony held out his arms and gave him a reassuring smile. Hesitantly, Peter lowered stepped onto the frozen pond, grabbing Tony’s arm and clinging to him as he got both feet on the ice.

“Good job, Roo!” the man praised, lifting him up by the armpits so he was standing up a bit straighter. He couldn’t help but compare Peter to a fawn who just stood up for the very first time, and the boy’s big bambi eyes weren’t helping his case. “Getting on the ice is the hardest part. I’ve landed on my ass more times than I can count.” Tony frowned at himself. “Sorry I said ‘ass,’ don’t repeat that.”

Peter snorted. His skates slipped and he felt Tony’s arms tighten around him. “Whoa there, buddy. I gotcha.” He tucked a loose curl behind the teen’s ear and kissed his cheek, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

“‘M’kay, you ready, Pete?”

“Heck yeah!”

Tony grinned. “Okay, first, you said ‘heck yeah’ instead of ‘hell yeah’ and that’s adorable,” he teased, chuckling at Peter’s eye roll. “Second: let’s wreck this rink!”

Though of course, they ended up making more of a wreck of themselves rather than the rink.

The very second Peter slid his foot forward, he found himself spontaneously falling backwards. Luckily, Tony caught him easily and gently pulled him back up.

“I meant to do that,” he huffed, his small hands scrabbling at Tony’s coat. “It was- completely- intentional.”

“Of course it was, Roo, I know that,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows. “No one has the grace and agility you do.”

“I am graceful, Tony! How dare you?!” Peter grumbled.

Tony might have made a quip about the arms wrapped tightly around his waist for support, but he decided his poor kid had suffered enough. Despite bumping into every table or chair in his path, Peter was surprisingly graceful, especially when he swung with ease through the air on a thin stand of webbing. “You are graceful, buddy, I promise,” he admitted. “You wanna give it another try?”

Peter stuck his tongue out at him, adjusted his hat, and gingerly took a step forward. Tony tensed, ready to lunge forward and catch him if the boy slipped, but found himself letting a quiet cheer. “Nice job, Pete!”

Peter beamed at him, his legs spread far apart and his arms extended for balance. He tipped backwards and Tony started to jump forward, but Peter flailed his arms around and regained his balance.

“I think you’re getting the hang of it, kiddo!” Tony called as Peter made his way to the opposite side of the pond. He winced suddenly, protectiveness flooding through him at his retreating figure. “Be careful! Wait for me!”

He caught up to Peter easily and zipped in front of him, catching him by the shoulders. “You’re doing great, baby!”

“Thanks,” he giggled, looking down at his shoes. He wiped his red nose with the back of his hand and sniffled. “‘S fun!”

Tony smiled and adjusted Peter’s scarf. “Glad to hear it.”

“Tony?” he asked. “Can you do a figure eight?”

The man paused to consider this, clicking his tongue. “Only one way to find out!” he decided.

Peter watched excitedly as he skated out to the middle of the pond, looking practically weightless. Tony took a deep breath, prayed he didn’t break any bones, then pushed off. He zoomed around the pond in a perfect figure eight, only faltering for a brief moment, and traced over it twice before he skidded back to Peter. “Ta-da!”

Peter applauded, clearly very impressed. Tony bowed exaggeratedly and pretended to be embarrassed.

“D’you think I should try?” Peter asked.

Tony smiled fondly. “Only if you want to. I know you’d nail it though.”

And he did. Peter skated carefully to the edge of the pond and performed the figure eight beautifully, spinning in circles and laughing when he got a bit too dizzy.

Tony skated up to him, his eyes huge. “Jesus, Petey, that was fantastic!” He pulled the embarrassed teen to his chest and wished, not for the first time, that Peter wasn’t wearing a hat so he could kiss the top of his head. He settled for Peter’s cheek instead. “Wow, baby, that was amazing! Wait- I gotta sign you up for the Olympics. Where’s my phone- oh, I got it.” He pulled his phone from his coat.

“Tony, nooooo!” Peter protested.

“Tony yes. You’re too talented.”

“It was just a figure eight!” he giggled. “And you did one too so you hafta sign yourself up.” Peter looked up to the gray sky and shivered as the brisk winds tore at his heavy coat and scarf. He leaned even closer to Tony.

“You cold, baby?” Tony rubbed his back gently, hoping to generate some warmth. “Wanna go back home? We can come back here anytime you want.”

Peter sighed a bit sadly, but he had to admit he was freezing. He and Tony skated back to the car quickly. Snowflakes began to fall rapidly down as gusts of wind tried to upset their balance. Tony helped Peter onto the bank and they hurriedly yanked off their ice skates.

They found refuge in the car only when Tony turned the heater up full blast and leaned over the console to pull Peter into his arms. Peter’s shivers that had been worrying him far more than Tony had been willing to say eventually died off and together they watched what was now practically a blizzard raging outside.

“Just in time,” Tony mumbled into Peter’s curls. “Feel any better, baby?”

He grew worried when he received no response and pulled back. Peter’s eyes were shut and his breathing slow, though he made a small whimpering noise in the back of his throat when Tony pulled away. Tony smiled, a tender, loving light in his eyes and pulled Peter back into his arms, cradling his kid against his chest and rubbing his back soothingly. “‘M here. ‘M here, baby, don’t worry,” he cooed, planting a kiss on his forehead.

Peter curls tickled his cheek, his warm breath heating the skin of Tony’s neck. The console between him and his kid was uncomfortable and hard against his side, but he wouldn’t have moved for the world. Tony held Peter tightly and closed his eyes.

Maybe they could stay there a little while as they waited for the blizzard to pass.

III

Tony had been brewing a hot cup of coffee in the kitchen when a disheveled, sniffling, sleepy Peter face-planted into his back.

“Whoa, bud!” Tony spun around and caught the boy under the armpits. “Hey, hey. Are you okay?” He tilted Peter’s chin back and found that his nose was bright red, his eyes were half-lidded, and his bedhead was a lot worse (though still absolutely adorable) than it usually was.

“‘M fine,” Peter sniffled, leaning heavily against his chest. “Missed you.”

“Oh, baby,” Tony murmured, wrapping his arms around the small teen, “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?” He gave his definitely-not-sick spider-baby a smooch on his temple. “You’re pretty warm,” he noted with a hint of worry in his voice. He pressed the back of his hand to the teen’s forehead. “Do you wanna lie down, kiddo?”

Peter shook his head weakly. “Wan’ you.”

Tony’s heart melted and he turned into a pile of mush. In this tired, sick, achy state Peter was clingier than ever, and all he wanted was him. He wanted Tony. He kissed Peter’s temple. “I’m gonna stay right here, Petey, don’t worry,” he assured his kid. “I promise.”

Tony held Peter with one arm while he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets with the other. “FRI? What’s up with the spider-baby?”

“Peter is exhibiting symptoms of a common cold, such as coughing, sneezing, a runny nose, and a fever,” the AI replied. Tony felt a pang of worry and empathy in his heart.

“Okay. I’ve got your pain meds,” he announced in a whisper. “Do you want water or OJ?”

Peter decided on the latter, not bothering to raise his head but simply mumbling “juice” into the man’s chest. Tony hummed in agreement and attempted to pour a glass for himself one-handedly (most of the juice ended up on the counter, but holding his sick kid was far more important than pouring orange juice).

He led the boy to the couch, a steadying hand around his shoulders. Peter snuggled against him, coughing and sniffling. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and shivered.

Tony placed two white pills into palm. Peter took a hesitant sip of his drink and gulped down the pills. Tony tucked an errant curl behind his ear and placed a kiss one his temple.

With Peter still in his hold, he strained to reach the weighted electric blanket that had fallen behind the couch. With a painful crack from his twisted back, he finally managed to get his fingers around the feather-soft blanket and settled back on the couch with a triumphant grunt.

He wrapped the electric blanket tightly around them both. Peter’s shivering caused a surge of fierce protection to run through his veins, and Tony hugged him to his chest, pressing a kiss to his soft, though slightly sweaty curls. He glared at the dark corners of the room, as if somehow the very cold that was making his child suffer so much would leap from the shadows.

Peter found comfort in the vibrations of Tony’s chest and the beat of his heart. The calloused fingers running through his hair and the occasional kiss against his temple soothed him beyond measure, and without ever realizing it, Peter started to drift off. Compared to when he had woken up, soaked with sweat, wheezing and sniffling and rather nauseous, he felt so much better in his father-figure’s embrace.

Dimly, he noticed that Tony was talking to him. He thought he recognized the words coming out of his mouth, and he realized suddenly that Tony was reading Mr. Willowby’s Christmas Tree to him. That book had been Peter’s favorite when he was a small toddler, and hearing the familiar words aloud brought a big burst of happiness to his chest.

Peter let his eyes slip shut for a second. The headache that had been pounding in his head was completely gone and in Tony’s arms, he felt incredibly warm and cozy and happy.

When his eyes opened again, he determined that Tony had finished reading the book. If he had had enough energy, he would have asked him to read another. But much to his delight, he realized Tony had already picked up another book.

And just before his eyes fluttered shut, he heard Tony’s gentle voice speaking, full of love. “I love you, Petey.”

I love you too.

“Mmm, Tony, the spaghetti was fantastic!” May exclaimed as she loaded her plate into the dishwasher. “I need that recipe, it’s just too good!”

Tony looked at Peter out of the corner of his eyes. The boy shook his head frantically and drew a finger across his throat. Tony snickered. “Thank you, May, I’m glad to hear that,” he said.

To be completely truthful, he felt like throwing up. During the dinner, Peter had chatted enough to distract him, but now his emotions were left to himself, and Tony had barely been swallowed by them. He stuffed the last plate in the dishwasher and took a few long, deep breaths. He massaged his forehead and blinked, sitting down heavily on the couch.

Tony’s heart was beating out of his chest. He looked up to the boy, who was texting someone- probably Ned, completely oblivious. “Pete?” he began shakily. “Do you think we could talk for a second?” He and May shared a glance. She realized immediately what he was about to do and gave him an encouraging smile and a thumbs up.

“Yeah!” Peter vaulted onto the couch with a laugh. His grin faded when he saw how worried, how scared the man looked. Alarm kindled in his chest. “What’s wrong, Mr. Stark?”

Tony couldn’t bring himself to laugh at the cookie crumbs in the corners of his mouth or the way his hair frizzed everywhere as he pulled his Santa hat off. He swallowed and took a deep breath.

“Um-” Tony had to clear his throat. He reached down and grabbed a briefcase leaning against the couch that Peter hadn’t noticed before. “Uh,” he tried. He pulled two papers out of the briefcase and stared at them for a long while. “Do you think that you could give these a read, kiddo?”

Peter nodded silently and took them. He looked up at Tony, his head tilted in confusion.

He looked to the papers. His eyes widened in disbelief. “W-what? I-” He turned the papers over as if there would be a sticky note saying “IT'S A PRANK!” on the back. “What? W-what? I-I don’t-” Peter shook his head.

He couldn’t stop looking at those cream-colored papers.

Child: Peter Benjamin Parker

Adopting Parent(s): Anthony Edward Stark

The rest of the paper was blank, except for Tony’s signature at the bottom.

“Am I asleep? This-this is a dream, right?” Peter's eyes were filling with tears but he didn’t bother to wipe them away.

“It’s not a dream, sweetheart,” May said gently. “It’s real.” She squeezed his knee, hoping to ground him.

“Really?” He opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to form words. He gaped like a fish, reading the adoption papers over and over again. “You-you wanna adopt me?” he finally managed to squeak out.

Tony finally gathered the courage to look at his kid. “Yeah, baby. But only if you want to, okay? Nothing would change, though. We’d- just be making it official. Everything would be the same except-” He throat closed, and suddenly he couldn’t speak.

Except Peter would be his official son- legally, on paper. And Tony would be his official dad. (There was no way Tony wasn’t already his dad.)

“What are you thinking, baby?” he murmured, instinctively tucking a curl behind Peter’s ear with shaky hands.

Tony’s gentle touch was enough to break the dam of emotions that had been holding back. Peter sniffled, then burst into tears and practically jumped into his dad’s arms.

Tony hugged him tightly, rubbing a hand up and down his back and pressing long kisses to his temple. Peter blubbered into his chest, happy tears soaking Tony’s sweater. May wrapped her arms around the two and squeezed them both tightly.

Tony felt tears prickle in his own eyes and he dropped his forehead to Peter’s curls. “Is that a yes?” he finally managed to say.

Peter giggled wetly and nodded frantically against his chest.

A grin as wide as a dinner plate crossed Tony’s face. He realized suddenly that tears were streaming down his cheeks, but he didn’t wipe them away. He kissed the top of Peter's head and squeezed him tighter.

May pressed a quick kiss on Peter’s cheek and stood up. “I’ll be back in a bit,” she said, sensing that the father and son might want a moment alone.

Tony rocked his kid back and forth, rubbing his back and pressing kiss after kiss to his cheek. “I love you,” he murmured into his chestnut curls. “I love you.” IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.

“Love you,” Peter babbled. “I love you too. I love you.”

He held Peter at an arm’s length, still grinning. Then he pulled his kid back to him again and kissed his cheek, wiping away his tears with the pad of his thumb. “I love you.”

Peter sniffled, wiping his nose with his sweater. He wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck and curled around him like a koala. He leaned heavily against his dad’s chest, his breathing beginning to even out. Tony’s chest vibrated with every “I love you so much, Petey” and his ceaseless murmurs of love and comfort.

“Love you, Dad,” he said sleepily, his eyelids drooping.

A lump formed in Tony’s throat that he couldn’t seem to swallow past. Tears started to trickle down his cheeks. “Petey-” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “I love you so much. So damn much, okay?” He ran his hand up and down the boy’s back, kissing his temple and trying to blink his happy tears away.

Tony felt himself slowly drifting asleep. He blinked, and then his cheek was resting on his kid’s curls. His eyes closed again, and suddenly May was there, draping a blanket over them. He tried to tell her to get Peter’s special heated blanket, because his poor kid couldn’t thermoregulate and absolutely hated the cold. Then he realized that she had already tucked it around the boy and sighed in relief, finally letting himself relax.

May settled on the opposite side of Peter and wrapped an arm around him. Within minutes she was snoring quietly, but Tony was too tired to notice. A wave of joy and peace and love washed over him, and his eyes slipped shut.

~~~~~

/ST*RKERS DNI/

~~~~~

Taglist: @imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @wtfischeese @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute @yansi1923 @slytherin-hamilton-life-12 @dead-inside-pt2 @name-me-regret @zanderljones @spidy8664 @hold-our-destiny

If anyone wants to be added/ removed please let me know!

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ladyeliot · 4 years

Photo

Damn melody.

Request: @mostly-marvel-musings : Well hi there!! If you’re up for it, could you do a no. 1 and 7 with Tony Stark from your Superhero prompts please?!

Pairing: Superhero!Tony Stark x Villain!Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been trying for a long time to get the documentation that explained the creation of his AI, and that time you almost succeeded.

Warnings: SMUT⚡(+18). Touching, unprotected sex, dirty talk.

Word count: 2186

A/N: This is the first time I write a smut, I’m afraid. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Superhero vs Villain!Reader Prompts

The confrontation had made your insides scream in pain. You prayed that nothing and no one would stand in your way as you drove to your lair at extreme speed. The meeting with Iron Man had been planned from the beginning, your chances to get the documentation where the process of development of his AI based on his own genetics was located had been scarce during the last months, but that day you almost made it. The word “surrender” was not in your vocabulary and never would be.

You arrived at your hideout on the outskirts of New York County with barely a breath. Your body was full of bruises and you felt how blood could wash over your face. Your radar sense could do little at that time, Tony had prepared for your arrival and his AI had restricted the electromagnetic emissions that helped heighten all your senses. So that confrontation was catastrophic, little could your martial arts and combat strategy skills do against the legion of drones that awaited you.

As soon as you stepped on the floor you stood in front of a mirror, your appearance was sickly, your right shoulder was dislocated and that was accompanied by the cut on your forehead, making you look like the ruin personified. You slowly lowered the zip of the black lycra suit that was sticking to your body, preventing the pain in your shoulder from making you squirm even more. You left the upper part of your body uncovered, covered only with a bra, which showed a series of hematomas covering the abdomen. Internally you found yourself cursing that person and his power, and you imagined the day when you would finally finish with him.

You took a breath and looked at yourself again in front of the mirror, your eyes had darkened from the rage you felt, that was the best time to place the dislocated shoulder bone, but your internal receptor regions, which were slowly recovering, emanated a signal in your body. You quickly grabbed one of the knives hidden in the back of your ankle and stood on guard. The house was dark, all silent, but a slight breath came into your ears, and it was not yours.

You came down the stairs slowly, the breathing could be heard more clearly, that meant you were approaching it. Your sense of smell quickly discovered who it was and where it was. It was impossible for you to return after what had just happened and better still, how had she found you and how had she overcome the security measures?

“Why do you have a room full of pictures and articles about yourself? you opened the door very carefully and there he was.

He wasn’t wearing the Iron Man suit, instead he was wearing a black Tom Ford suit, accompanied by a red tie, but even so, you knew perfectly well that that didn’t mean he didn’t have his Iron Man suit on him. Tony was in the middle of your small private laboratory, specifically observing a corner where there were photographs of you analyzing facial changes when your emitting and receiving regions were set in motion. The hand holding the knife was shaking from the pain in your right shoulder, and when Tony looked away from you he noticed.

“An interesting sight,” he said, gazing at your naked upper body. He reached into his Tom Ford’s pocket. “Just like this place.”

“What are you doing here?” you spit out those words as if the life in them was gone.

“I only care about you,” he approached the center table and picked up a small gadget in his hands. “External receiving regions, very interesting. Is that what has kept you away from my lab so far?”

Your breath accelerated as you contemplated the behaviour of the person in front of you, he walked around as if nothing had happened and his indifference made your blood boil. Finally he stopped and watched you pointing at your shoulder passively.

“That looks painful,” he said, arching his eyebrows. “I think I’d better put that on you.“

"Don’t you dare come any closer…”

“Okay,” he raised his hands and put them back in his pockets. “I just wanted to be nice.”

His tone of voice definitely contained hints of impassivity, but also of disdain and arrogance, all of which shaped that man. So, thanks to your own pride, which gave you strength, you took a breath and in one quick movement put the bone back in place, hiding the moans of pain while clenching your teeth very tightly. The last thing you wanted was to give him the satisfaction of seeing you suffer in front of him again.

“You’re enjoying it,” you said, getting your breathing back to normal. “What do you want? Have you come to gloat over your success?”

“No, that’s not my style,” he said without hesitation and then pointed to the knife you were holding in your left hand. “Why don’t you put down that knife so we can talk like civilized people?”

“Do you think that after today I’m going to be in front of you without a weapon?” you held your breath, chin up.

A smile of arrogance spread across your opponent’s face, causing your body to quiver. Tony, noticing the event, smiled slightly and took a step towards you, which caused you to step back away from him. The tension of the environment was evident, and your uninvited guest had the ability to take control in such situations.

“Are you scared?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Scared?” you stood firmly keeping your gaze fixed on his. “Why do you think I should be afraid?

"Perhaps because if I had wanted to, you would have been dead…” he looked at his watch indifferently. “Two hours.”

You mumbled, clenching your fist around the knife and wanting to stab him as soon as he got a slip.

“And if you’re so sure of it, why didn’t you?” you asked, leaving your lips half open and arching an eyebrow, as Tony continued to approach with airs and graces.

“And what are you waiting for to finish up and put that knife through my neck?” he asked, leaving his lips half open a short distance away. “Stop flirting and kill me.

How could he dare to think what you were flirting with him about? You knew you had all the power at that very moment, as he had said you could put an end to that story, but your body was extremely blocked, and his last words didn’t help either. All your senses were heightened at that moment, you felt the touch of the dried blood on your forehead, you listened to his breathing intensely as it crashed into your face and you could smell his woody perfume mixed with the whiskey emanating from his mouth.

“Like what you see?” Tony whispered, drawing a smug smile on his face that caused your gaze to turn to his lips.

“You’re not taking me to bed,” you spit out the words finding some lucidity in your brain. "Ever.”

Tony’s lips opened to show how his tongue slowly danced to his lips. You knew what his game was, you had seen it on several occasions in the charity galas he organized, and you were not willing to fall into it, as it was surely a distraction to achieve something. He was only a few inches from your body, your breasts were almost touching, a subtle movement from one of you and the contact was made. He was teasing you, gloating while keeping his gaze fixed on your lips.

“Who said it had to be on the bed?”

You felt his fingers touching your naked belly, slowly caressing each of the bruises that the dispute with Iron Man had caused you. He turned his gaze to them but quickly turned it back to your lips. Your jaw tightened but when you felt Tony’s lips fall slightly on your right shoulder the tension in your body dissipated. You closed your eyes and let his lips run down your neck, making his tongue come into play as well. Although all your senses were on his actions, you held the knife firmly in your left hand.

“Look at you…” he whispered a few millimeters away from your neck. His voice was hoarse and it was killing you. “Two hours ago you wanted to kill me and now you’re moaning at my touch.”

With your eyes still closed, your mouth curved into a smile of arrogance.

"Look at you…” you imitated his words. “Two hours ago you wanted to kill me and now you can’t resist putting a hand on me.”

You opened your eyes to meet Tony’s dilated pupils, radiating uncontrolled lust. In one swift movement he guided you to the nearest wall behind you, causing your body to collide with force and severe pain in all your contusions. You couldn’t stop a small moan from coming from inside your throat, a mixture of pain and excitement.

“I think thats the first time I’ve heard you moan…” he said, brushing his teeth against your skin before biting you. “It was like a fucking melody.”

Another groan came from between your lips. You wanted to touch him, you needed to touch him. The knife slipped from between your fingers leaving a dry sound when it hit the ground. As soon as you were free of it you reached for his tie, but he quickly spun you around hard preventing you from having any chance to touch his body. You could have easily gotten rid of his tether, especially when his defenses were so low, but you did not. Tony quickly unzipped your suit leaving your whole body exposed.

Your legs opened up in need, and he soon realised that gesture, unsubtly holding his hand so that his fingers touched your clit, while he brusquely brought his length to your ass.

"I haven’t even touched you and you’re already this wet.” His voice was so dark that it caused your wetness to intensify.

“I haven’t even taken your clothes off and you’re already this hard” you gave a half smile as you bit into your lower lip, feeling his fingers dancing on your folds.

“Oh baby, you know, you really shouldn’t tease me,” he muttered, bringing two of his fingers inside you, causing both of you to groan.

You didn’t know if it was Tony Stark’s possessive behaviour, or the intensification of all your senses, but your body began to tremble. As if the marks he’d made on you that day weren’t enough, his tongue was marking your neck.

“You take my fingers so well don’t you?”

“Shut up and take your pants off.” You ordered to blindly reach out to meet his cock, which was begging to be released.

“Oh honey, you sound so needy” he mocked increasing the speed of his fingers inside you while his thumb stimulated your clitoris. “Let’s see how quickly you can cum.

You moved your hips to intensify the friction, while he, with his other hand, unzipped his trousers and released his erection. You felt that the climax was near, your legs could barely hold you and your breath, which was broken between moans, informed you that you were going to fall down in just a couple of seconds. It was just when you were on the edge that Tony withdrew his fingers leaving you empty, but not for long.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to his body to slide into you with one blow. That feeling of pleasure that you experienced when you felt him completely inside and heard his moaning in your ear, made you free yourself from all the accumulated tension. Tony brought his hand back to your clitoris, slowly rubbing your thigh, sending you to the edge.

You groaned in desperation, calling out his name as if life were your own, which caused you to squeeze his cock even harder.

"My name sounds so good when it comes from your lips,” Tony intensified the speed of friction, crashing into your hips with more force. “Shit, you’re so adorable that I think I could even forgive you.”

The warmth of your interior continued to be latent until you felt it overflow inside you, filling you with all its pleasure and desire. Your breaths were completely out of sync at a frantic pace. Tony held you by the waist, avoiding putting his fingers on the bruises.

“Please remind me again why we are having sex,” you said leaning your forehead against the wall and trying to return to your normal breathing.

“Do you really need me to explain?" Tony whispered, kissing your naked back as he pulled his cock out from inside you, causing a soft moan in your throat. "There’s that damn melody again…”

Tag list: @imerdwarf @mycosmicparadise @lavendertales

Requests/Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

#tony x reader #superhero x villain #tony stark x reader #female reader #smut #drabble #prompt #marvel #mcu #marvel fan fiction #ff #fanfic #tony stark imagine #y/n #robert downey jr #rdj #superhero x supervillain

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toomanyrobins · 4 years

Text

a little bird told me pt. 5

Summary: Y/N “Birdie” Parker left New York and her family three years ago in the middle of the night. Now, a call for help to her best friend brings her back into the fold of the Three Families and their “business”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Parker!Reader

Content warning: physical abuse, miscarriage, allusions to fertility issues, cursing, mentions of forced marriage

Word Count: 2k

Notes: Surprise! It’s a boy!

Series masterlist // next part

The first day Y/N felt like herself and the injuries had mostly healed, Pepper insisted on them going into the city and shopping. With the holidays coming up, they had a lot of events they would be required to attend and Y/n didn’t think that her old style suited her very well. Before going to meet her mom, she stopped by the Ivory to drop off a coffee to Tony and Peter. The former had tried to convince her to bring some guards with her, but she rolled her eyes at his overprotectiveness. She was outside the office texting Pepper, when she heard squeaking. When she looked up there was nothing there. She heard the noises again and followed it into the hallway. Y/N knelt down and stared into the blue eyes of a diapered baby. “Well, hello. Who do you belong to?” she lifted him out and settled him on her hip. As she shook the toy, he babbled at her.

“Jamie? Jamie!” Frantic male voices were heard calling through halls.

“If Jamie is a baby, you’ll find him in here with me!” Steve came flying around the corner, a wild look in his eyes. He lifted Jamie from her arms and hugged him to his chest, kissing his forehead.

Y/n was surprised to see so much open affection from the blond. She tilted her head and stared, “So… who’s is he?”

“Mine,” his eyes never left the baby.

“You have a kid?” Y/N felt a twinge in her heart. Another thing she had missed because of her selfishness.

“You’d know about all of this if you had stuck around.” she winced at the harsh comment and before Steve could apologize, Bucky and Sam came running around the corner, “JAMIE!” They both ran over and quickly checked on the baby as well. The diapered infant just babbled at the three men and shook his toy, basking in the attention.

“If you don’t mind my asking, how did he end up in the hallway in just a diaper?”

Steve glared at his two friends, “I made the mistake of leaving him in the care of these idiots. I have meetings for George all day.”

“He just got away from us while we were having a discussion about what outfit to put him in,” Bucky at least had the decency to look ashamed about losing his nephew.

Sam turned to him and pointed a finger, “You know the whales are much more stylish, Barnes.”

Y/N looked at the men and shook her head, “I can help watch him. We could call it part of my amends.”

“Birdie, you don’t---” She gave him a don’t mess with me look and Steve sighed, “Would you, really? That would be a huge help. He just started crawling and it’s been an adjustment. Obviously.”

“I was going to go shopping with Pepper. I’ll just bring him along.”

“You’re bringing some men with you, right?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “No, I hadn’t planned on it. Tony tried the same thing.” A mischievous grin spread across her face, “But, since they already had their day cleared to watch Jamie, I’m sure Bucky and Sam will be up to the task.”

“I thought if you would take the kid, I could get some other stuff done.”

“You thought wrong, Buckaroo. Boys, pack your bags. We leave in an hour.” Steve and Y/N walked away, talking about Jamie’s routine. The other two men were left glaring at each other, still bitter about their argument earlier. The duo walked into Steve’s office and were greeted with a baby explosion.

The blond cursed under his breath, “I swear this room was organized when I left an hour ago.”

“I believe you, big guy.” She patted his arm, before turning to Jamie and picking him up, “Okay, little man, let’s get you dressed.” Y/N made quick work and blew a raspberry on his stomach when she was done. A huge smile grew across her face when she heard the baby giggles. She looked up and saw a strange look on Steve’s face, “What? Is there something on my face?”

“It’s just so strange to see you again.”

“Stevie…”

“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad. I’m glad you’re back. I’d forgotten what life was like with you around.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean let’s face it, Birdie, you have the nickname for a reason. You never stayed in one place long enough and it was exhausting the amount of energy you had.”

“Am I still that same person in your eyes?”

“Some of it is the same. It was always hard to imagine you settling down. But, the minute you are around kids, it’s an entirely different story. If you ever decide to settle down, you will be an amazing parent.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at the thought of her secret. She felt herself starting to get emotional and busied herself by going through the diaper bag. Once she had herself back under control, she smiled up at him, “Well, you made a damn cute kid, Stevie.”

“Don’t I know it,” he smiled down at his son. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh to herself at the imagery of the large man holding such a small child. “Okay, Jamie, be good for Birdie. I’ll see you later. Oh, and here’s a key to my truck and the apartment in case you’re done before I am.”

“I’ll text you plenty of photos.”

“Thank you for this,” Steve leaned down to kiss her cheek and whispered in her ear, “I missed you more than you know.” He had left her breathless with that last comment and she moved robotically as she put Jamie into the car and headed to meet Pepper. Her mother had raised her eyebrow at her showing up with the baby, Sam, and Bucky, but laughed when she heard the whole story.

While her mother enjoyed shopping, the activity was the bane of Y/N’s existence. They moved quickly through the stores, grabbing what she needed and trying things on. Jamie was on his best behavior, even clapping a few times when Y/N had come out of the dressing room. Despite the fact that they all knew it didn’t mean anything, anything the baby reacted to was purchased. By the time they had finished, everyone was dead on their feet and the baby was knocked out in his stroller.

Y/N decided to let Pepper take all of the clothes back to the house and she went back to Steve’s apartment to put Jamie down for a proper nap. Walking through the door was like entering a time capsule. The only difference was the addition of baby things. She walked through the hallway and looked at the pictures and framed sketches on the wall. Y/N stopped in front of a picture of them from Tony’s infamous Christmas party four years ago. Steve had been her guard for over a year at that point and the two of them had spent practically every day together. It was hard to believe how much the two people in that photo had changed. As she moved further down, the sketches she had stolen and framed for him still had pride of place. Her musings were interrupted by her phone chirping:

Steve: I’m sorry, but meetings are running longer than planned. Are you okay with Jamie? You can bring him to Becca if you have plans.

Y/N: No plans. I’m happy to stay. You focus on work. Little man and I got this.

She walked into the kitchen and found a drawer of takeaway menus and the cabinets only filled with food for Jamie. When he woke up from his nap, she pulled her shoes on, “This won’t do, little man. We are going to the grocery store." Y/N strapped Jamie to her chest and walked to the nearest store. They made quick work at the shop, filling the cart with essentials. Once she got back to the apartment, she put the baby in his high chair with a snack. Music filled the kitchen as she danced around.

Steve came home and followed the delicious smells and music playing. He found Y/N in the kitchen, dancing with Jamie in her arms. He leaned on the door frame, watching her hips sway as she switched her focus between what was on the pan in front of her and his son. Birdie Stark was definitely not a teenager anymore. He walked into the kitchen and put his hand on her waist, making her jump. “Jesus!”

He chuckled and took Jamie from her, “Nope, just me, sweetheart.”

“You scared the crap out of me.”

He apologized, but didn’t sound that sorry. He stared down at her, thinking how the flush on her cheeks from the heat suited her. “Are you making dinner?”

Y/N suddenly looked nervous. “I’m not overstepping, am I? You said you’d be working late and I thought I’d help out,” she looked up at him and smirked, "Plus, I saw the takeaway drawer.”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell when I’m mad at a home cooked meal. But from what I remember, you once set fire to a pot of water.”

She threw her head back and laughed, “That was almost five years ago, I will have you know. My skills have vastly improved. Y/N realized how close she and Steve were standing. She pulled away and felt his hand slip away from where it had been resting comfortably on her waist. He cleared his throat and turned his attention to Jamie who was babbling at him.

Y/N dished up two plates and got Jamie’s bottle ready. “Birdie, you don’t have to do that. I can feed him and eat after.”

“You’ve been at work all day, Steve, and I know for a fact you forget to eat. I don’t mind, really.” She settled herself on the couch with Jamie in her arms and her plate on the arm. . He held his own bottle and she ate a few bites while staring at the baby in her arms. She was entirely unaware of Steve watching her,

He rubbed his eyes and took a pull from his beer, “I can’t believe it’s only 7. I feel like today will never end.”

“Did you say 7? Shit!” Y/N looked worried, “I need to go.” She had forgotten that she had made an appointment with a doctor to make sure that she wasn’t pregnant. Her paranoia had taken over and she had to be sure.

“Why? Where are you going?”

“Birdie, you’ve been going all day. Just reschedule.”

“I can’t, Steve.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t tell you.” They sat in awkward silence, the only noise coming from Jamie and he hungrily sucked at the bottle. She kept her eyes on the baby and whispered, “Are you mad at me?”

Steve sighed and came to kneel down in front of her, “Why would I be mad at you, sweetheart?”

She ran a finger over Jamie’s cheek, biding her time, “Because I’m keeping secrets. That tends to make others angry.”

“God, Birdie, no. I’m not angry. I’m disappointed that you think you aren’t safe to share, but i never want you to be scared of me.” Y/N nodded sadly. Steve wanted herto tell him everything, “Want to help me put Jamie to bed?

She shook her head and passed the baby to him, “I should go. It’s late.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll just call for a driver. You haven’t seen Jamie all day, you should spend some time together.” Y/N grabbed her bag and jacket, and leaned over to kiss the wiggling child.

“I have tomorrow afternoon off, want to go for lunch?” Steve tilted her head up to meet her eyes, “We can go to Galletti’s.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Y/N got on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, “Night, Stevie.”

He grinned, “What have I told you about calling me that?”

“Follow through on your threat and I might actually take you seriously.”

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 10

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. Mild smut in this chapter.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Tony fluff, Tony snark, Tony sass and Tony smut (finally!). My & reader's brain be like: tony tony tony tony. A request for my readers: do I write a believeable tony? Is he in character, more or less?

My beta @miscmarvelwritings - she's not into Tony but even then, she was finally excited about them finally getting down & dirty. The patience of this woman...

"Tony, could I borrow, like, a hoodie or something?"

He eyed my attire critically for a moment, seemingly coming to the same conclusion I did minutes earlier, and made a beeline for the couch in the back of the lab. Picking up and examining a black mass of fabric, deeming it satisfactory, he tossed it to me. "It's clean enough, I guess."

The thin straps of my mesh top rubbed against a lot of tender skin, leaving pink lines in the wake of it. A sigh of relief escaped me involuntarily when I removed it -

"Woah, woah," Tony squeaked, covering his eyes with an exaggerated gesture. "Warn a man!"

I honestly didn't see what the big deal was. "Tony, chill. I'm pretty sure you've seen it all and then some." I snorted, stretching briefly, shrugging on the slightly oversized hoodie. It smelled like the lab - like Tony, too, but mostly like motor oil and iron. Beggars can't be choosers, however - I had already devised and executed the plan that will let me keep the hoodie.

"When you put it that way..." He smirked, briefly returning to his usual self and giving me a salacious eyebrow wiggle.

I laughed in response, wiggling my hips, feeling the hem of my skirt swish against my thighs. I considered removing the fishnet tights, too, but a brief look in the reflective wall divide between Tony's and Bruce's labs got me pulling out my phone to take two dozen selfies. I looked great with Tony's clothes on.

The engineer chuckled at my antics, coming up behind me as I sat on the floor with my knee raised, chin resting on it. The amber liquid sloshed over the top of his glass, dripping down his fingers. He sat behind me.

"Weller Full Bourbon?" I asked, bringing my nose closer to his fingers to get a good whiff. The distinctive vanilla notes in his whiskey were unmistakable. "Good choice," I made a serious face. "Fancy."

"I can afford it, darling," He snarked back, devoid of malice.

He was so close. And so warm. And I needed a new screensaver. Shuffling back, I reclined against Tony's chest, carefully wedging my head in the crook of his neck.

God help me.

I felt his breath hitch. The dark, magnetic pools of his eyes stared at me from our combined reflection. Tony's eyes were the most expressive, he could fake a smile, he could charm the press and countless investors, but his eyes only spoke the truth. Always. I loved working with Tony because his gaze would light up. It was akin to seeing a little kid on Christmas.

A muscular arm snaked around my waist, pressing my back to his chest. The metal of his arc reactor jabbed uncomfortably between my shoulder blades but there was nowhere else I'd rather be.

"You're filming, Princess," He interrupted my Moment.

"Sure," I answered, not caring. There could be another alien invasion happening and I wasn't able to give a damn.

I felt the vibrant chuckle more than heard; Tony snatched the phone out of my hand without permission. I noticed the furrowed brow when he opened my Instagram and saw the unmistakable evidence of my frequent partying, yet he didn't comment on it.

"Tony, the press is going to go nuts," I raised my eyebrows, seeing what he was planning to do.

"They've seen me doing worse things," He scoffed. And took a photo of us ‘just chilling’ in his lab, hugging. He picked out a filter and everything., and then posted it.

"First of all, I am pretty awesome to be 'doing', I've had only good feedback," I scoffed at his dismissive attitude, using my free hand to make quote marks. Then I turned my head to stare him square in the face. "Steve's going to be pissed and Ms. Potts is going to call to yell at you." I punctuated the statements with a raised eyebrow.

There was really no innocent way the press could represent the photo that he posted. I didn't care for it, my parents wouldn't give a damn (my father probably would encourage it, the free publicity and all). Tony himself didn't seem like the kind of man to care much about some gossip articles, if anything, he enjoyed provoking them into a frenzy. Or at least, he used to.

"I'll put them both on hold. I like to watch the line blink," Tony winked, smirking. "I've been told the press expects me to have a midlife crisis since my last breakup," Eyes darkening, the man swiftly finished off his drink.

Midlife crisis seemed such a bitter way of putting it. Considering my own preferences in romantic partners, I couldn't help but feel offended at the way people offhandedly dished out labels - "midlife crisis", "daddy issues" and so on and so forth. The briefest part of me traveled back to Mr. Davies' living room where - no, I am not going there.

"Huh," I said, coming to a conclusion. A sad one at that.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Princess, but you don't seem like the kind of girl who thinks about pesky things like reputation or consequences," Tony mused idly, coming to a conclusion of his own.

"Nope, I don't give a fuck," I agreed with his opinion wholeheartedly. "If I would have a publicist, they would quit on the second day."

"I pay mine, uh, twice the average amount and they still quit. We're doomed, baby," Tony's gleeful face was mere inches away from my own, whiskey-tipsy and glowing.

I snorted, sliding lower to further burrow into his arms. Tony's sudden touchy-feely mode wasn't lost on me. My own touch starvation overrode any common sense that I had left. The totally-PG (well, not quite) embrace, one armed hug brought me more satisfaction than any of my sexual partners had ever achieved to give me.

"Why are there so many messages from Banner? Are you staging a world domination plan and forgot to include me? I'm hurt!" Tony exclaimed suddenly, a whiny tone to his voice.

"Thor's space yeasts have corrupted our minds with their spores. Soon all will become... Mushroom!" I deepened my voice for the dramatic effect, flailing my arms on the last word for the extra flair.

The man wiped a fake tear from the corner of his eye; his eyes were sparkling, laughing even. "I'm evicting Thor and his supremely selfish yeast. How dare it ignore me."

"I vouched for you, I really did," I kept up the silly game. "But alas, the yeasts deemed you too... Boomer," The pride in my voice could barely hold back the laughter threatening to spill.

"Did you just..?" Tony gaped. "Did you just call me old?!"

I attempted to get away, shrieking when the tips of Tony's fingers squirmed along my midsection. "It was the yeast! IT WAS THE YEAST!" My resistance proved to be futile. The engineer had mass and strength on his side, years of piloting and maneuvering the Iron Man suits showing just how quick and nimble he could be when the situation demanded it.

"Take that from an old man!" He exclaimed triumphantly, using his arm to hold down both of my hands from grasping at him. One of his legs held down my own; we were a squirming, writhing mass of limbs in the heat of a tickle fight.

The cocaine in my blood, the mild buzz from being drunk on Tony - my body reacted to the close proximity of the man who occupied my fantasies. I was blushing, breathing heavily, and it wasn't just from the exertion. It should have affected me less, but I struggled to keep my eyes from Tony's face; his own flush, the moist part of his lips.

I wondered how a deer in the headlights felt. Was it hot, like it's body was suddenly alight, or was it cold, liquid nitrogen freezing in its veins?

"Fuck," I mumbled half-coherently.

"What was that?" He arched an eyebrow, clever eyes carefully watching my own.

"I'm in trouble," I chuckled weakly, looking away, pretending to struggle against his arms.

"You're trouble," He announced, grinning. His fingertips slowed, skimming gently along my sides now.

I retaliated with a tentative brush of my foot along the softness of his jean-covered inner thigh. It was euphoric, seeing Tony shudder, the thick eyelashes fluttering for the briefest part of a second.

"We should stop," He whispered suddenly, making a move to disentangle us both. Mixed signals, we've got em, ladies and gentlemen.

"Why?" I was tired of this dance. It was fun but painful. My firm decision of the past still stood: I won't be the lovesick fangirl, I won't be another notch in his bedpost. The resolve was crumbling but it was still there, to some point.

"You're not sober, this is wrong," He mumbled. "I'm more than twice your age, Princess."

That ship had sailed, Tony. If only you knew... "Do you seriously expect me, out of all people, to find common ground with someone my age? Someone like Peter? Jeez," I tried to be amused. If it came out more pleading, I pretended to not notice it. It was the moment of truth. It needed to be said. "I'm FUBAR, Tony. I'm lucky if anyone at all will want to put up with me, much less someone I can stand. I'm spoiled, I'm selfish, and annoying. I know that. I just thought we were friends and you'd be...kinder about it." My mumbling was met with a somewhat perplexed stare.

"I..." His eyebrows threatened to have a close encounter with his hairline. "What the fuck? Are you dead set on giving me a stroke today? I have a heart condition," He yanked me back towards his chest, unceremonious and indignant. "You can be so smart yet so stupid. Gosh, where is the world rolling, I'm quoting Pepper now." He seemed to be muttering to himself.

"Pot, kettle." I didn't resist the urge to snark.

"Right," Tony rolled his eyes. "You're beautiful and all that jazz. You deserve much more than this." Uncharacteristically sad, he pointed to himself, again. "I'm an old man with more issues than Playboy magazine."

"And I'm an angsty teenager with daddy issues, we're a match made in heaven."

"Hell," Tony was eyeing our combined reflection with a sort of petulance. It was hard keeping track of his microexpressions; his eyes and face held fleeting, half-finished thoughts, just like when he was creating, inventing something new.

"Works for me. Lucifer's hot," I answered with my brain on autopilot. He caught my eyes in the shiny glass, trapping me in his calculative gaze.

"The Netflix one or the Supernatural one?" Tony asked, equally absent from the conversation. Neither of us were able to break eye contact, breathing laboured and hearts thudding in our chests. I felt Tony's pulse fluttering under my palm where I'd rested it on his wrist.

The organ that dutifully pumped blood through my own veins and kept me alive threatened to escape my body, jump out of my chest, make its way out my mouth. Tony's unblinking stare penetrated my skin, seeped into the hollow behind my eyelids, ignited a flame within me and froze my thoughts.

"The one with the detective kink," I answered breathily. "I have an affinity for brown-eyed, narcissistic, sarcastic men with self-destructive tendencies," The last part of my sentence was swallowed by Tony's lips.

My brain shorted out, just like that. Bourbon on his breath and a new dose of snark on his tongue, he licked into my mouth with the grace and finesse of years of experience. It was sudden, it was rough, it was fantastic. His beard left marks on my face and I craved the burn of it.

"Fuck," I moaned when we were forced to surface for oxygen. My hips had moved, pressed against his own, prominent arousal digging into the small of my back. Tony had me moaning and grinding into it in mere seconds.

A hand rested on my face with surprising tenderness, turning my face to look at my own reflection. My hair was a mess, lips puffy - Tony wasn't looking any better, hunger and lust in plain view. It was a good look on him.

"Watch," His breath ghosted over the shell of my ear, lips traveling to the nape of my neck to attach themselves to the very sensitive flesh of that area.

I obeyed, gazing at the scene with lidded eyes. Keeping them open was a struggle. My body was flooded with sensation, riding the waves of pleasure like a rollercoaster. I wanted to please him, needed to obey him, to feel him.

My thighs quivered at Tony's touch. There was no warning, no preamble as he wedged a firm hand, separating them quickly to follow the heat. His biceps flexed deliciously. Under my skirt, through the fishnets and the tiny, lacy panties I wore.

"Fucking shit," The man moaned loudly, finding me, predictably, soaking wet. It was one hot, sticky mess between my legs.

The keen that left my mouth might've been embarrassing, yet it only spurred Tony on. Gently parting my lower lips, he gathered the moisture, suddenly withdrawing from me. My confusion met his amusement in the mirror as he stuck the two fingers in his mouth, moaning obscenely and loudly at the taste.

The corners of my mouth lifted, happy. "To-ony," I whined, my pussy aching for more. Now that I had felt the relief and pleasure of his touch, I didn't want it to end.

"Princess," He replied, seriously and sternly. I shuddered at the scratchiness of his voice. The hand that I was missing returned, stroking over the outside of my pussy with broad, soft motions. I arched, presented myself into the touch. "So eager," Tony mumbled into my shoulder, catching a bit of my skin between his teeth.

His fingers dipped deeper, delving in between the puffy, engorged flesh and stroking once, twice, before finding my clit. The pads of Tony's fingers were rough, hardened by manual work and hours spent in front of his inventions, making, tinkering, creating. The friction was perfect. I followed each stroke with a fluid motion of my hips.

"Tony, fuck," I slurred my approval, needing him to know how amazing he made me feel. Tony's form pressed closer, both of us melting, molding into each other.

"Baby girl, what do you need?" His raspy voice tickled my neck. I was sure there would be an array of marks decorating me come morning and absolutely loved the thought. I belonged to Tony Stark, in body and heart and mind and soul.

"I want to cum," I had no shame left. "I want to feel you."

He groaned, rutting into me. A squeak was all I managed to emit as two thick fingers plunged inside of me with a wet squelch. My pussy immediately took hold of the situation, squeezing and rippling around them. I was so close, my nerves pulled up taut like an overtaxed string. The effect this man had on me was positively unholy.

My clit throbbed under his thumb. Tony somehow managed to reach every single sweet spot on my body, effortlessly, easily, like he'd done it a thousand times.

"Ohmyfuckinggod, Tony," I came hard, shuddering, drenching the fingers inside of me. The moment I began sagging in his arms was the moment they tightened around me; I felt Tony grind helplessly against me, saw his own eyes slam shut and his brow furrow.

The hand that was in me withdrew rapidly as he hastily popped the button on his pants, freeing his cock and giving it several desperate tugs. I couldn't see it; I had to settle for the sensation of his hand, his hips rubbing against my clothed back.

He came quickly, with a loud shout. My curiosity got the best of me and I used the brief moment of his weakness to turn around, take a good look at him.

Tony was a fucking mess with a fucking gorgeous cock. Thick and veiny.

My face was level with it before he could have opened his eyes. I wanted, craved to know how he tasted. With gentle kitten licks, I collected the stray drops of cum running down his hand, careful of the rapidly softening, sensitive flesh.

His eyes popped open in surprise. I smiled at him, unseeing, collecting as much of him as I could.

"Fuck, Princess," He breathed. "I'm just a man, I'm pushing fifty," Gently pulling my head away but holding it mere inches from his cock. Indecisive.

I reached over for his hand with my own, popping finger after finger in my mouth, collecting every drop of cum like it was nectar. I could be good...I If properly motivated. The salty musk was all the motivation I needed at that moment. He pulled me in for a filthy, sloppy kiss once I was done, both of us humming, vocalising the shared pleasure.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @as-i-layhereinyourbed @sleep-i-ness @gigglyfox01 @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney

As always, feedback is welcome and this blog is keyboard smash & emoji friendly.

#tony stark smut #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner x you #bun writes #party favours #TONY NEVER SHUTS UP YO

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ravenforce · 4 years

Text

Stark Legacy 6

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Carol Danvers x Wanda Maximoff x Maria Hill x Reader but Natasha Romanoff x Reader centric for this chapter.

Summary: I have no words to summarize this one. I feel like this is a whole story on it’s own. Nat x Reader, with a few flashbacks.

Word Count: 4207

A/N: Please, let me know what you guys think. I poured my heart into this, Idk why I tend to do that whenever I write for Natasha. HAHA. Also, I deviated a little bit on the coma/death arc for the reader, sorry.

Previously: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

***

Natasha walks inside the gym a little later than she normally would and fully expecting her blonde girlfriend to be there since she didn’t wake up with her on the bed either. To her surprise, Carol’s not there too. She shrugged and went on her gym routine with a furrowed brow. The next day, without even meaning to, Nat woke up to Carol trying (unsuccessfully) to silently slip off Wanda’s embrace and off their massive bed. Nat gave her girlfriend a good fifteen minutes head start before tailing her.

Nat tried not to think ahead but Nat being Nat, she was still prepared for all possible outcomes but out of all the scenarios she thought Carol would drive to, she never - not even once - thought that she’s driving to SHIELD Headquarters. Nat’s eyebrows furrowed while waiting a few blocks away for Carol to be cleared to enter the premises. She knows for a fact that Carol’s not due for her weekly meeting with Fury because they all maintain a synchronized calendar to keep track of everyone’s schedule.

“What are you up to, Danvers?” she whispered to herself.

Nat sat on the parking lot for another ten minutes before following Carol inside. Nobody in their right mind would ever question why she was there even without an appointment. Natasha went through the command center to see if Deputy Director Hill is on her station but, she too wasn’t anywhere to be found.

What is going on? Where is everyone? She thought to herself while walking along a deserted hallway. When she rounded the corner, she roughly bumped into someone. The deep frown on her face was immediately erased when she saw who she bumped into.

“There you are!”

“You’re here too?”

They spoke at the same time. Nat chuckled for a second before registering what Maria had said. Before she can ask, Maria spoke first.

“Does the Earth mightiest heroes have nothing better to do on their free days than loiter around here?” Maria teased before pulling Nat for a quick hug.

“I don’t loiter -” Nat grumbled on her girlfriend’s shoulder. When they pulled apart, Maria’s sporting a teasing smile. Nat rolled her eyes playfully. “I am not loitering. I’m looking for Carol.”

“Yeah, she’s here,” Maria confirmed while tucking a stray red hair out of Nat’s face. Nat bit her lip in an attempt to keep herself from blushing at the softness her girlfriend’s showing.

”Didn’t she just met with Nick yesterday? What’s her business here today?”

At the mention of Fury’s name, Maria stiffened as she remembered that she’s already running late to her meeting with the man himself. She cursed under her breath, hurriedly plants a soft kiss on Nat’s cheeks before sidestepping the redhead and practically running out of there.

“Carol’s in the gym with Agent Stark,” Maria said loud enough for Nat to hear from the other end of the empty hallway before she disappeared.

Nat stood there frozen for a minute before she turned on her heels to see what you and Carol are up to. “Y/N Stark -” she whispered to herself as she walks towards the gym. Nat can’t deny the fact that her heart started beating wildly on her chest at the mere mention of your name.

It felt like an eternity has passed since Nat ever heard your name at all. So much has happened between then and now including your supposed death and the world literally ended, Nat didn’t really have time to dwell on all of her unanswered what-ifs. What if you didn’t die? Would she have had enough courage to feel she deserve you if you both were given more time?

***

Nat was enamored the moment she met you while she was undercover as Tony’s assistant. You were unlike no other she’s ever met before. A genius in your own merit was yet content to live peacefully behind your brother’s dark and long shadow. Funny without being obnoxious. She was sure she’s in love with you when you fought side by side while infiltrating Hammer Tech.

“I didn’t know you could fight, princess,” she teased while trying to catch her breath after taking down most of Hammer’s security.

You rolled your eyes at her, pretending to hate that stupid pet name. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Natasha Romanoff -” you fired back. Enunciating her name indicating that her cover was blown with you for a while now.

“Let’s change that after we’re through with this -”

A new batch of security emerges that forced you to go back to kicking ass. “Are you asking me out right now?” You punched one man on the throat, knocking him out effectively.

Nat’s chocking another on her side of the hallway. “No better time than the present, Stark. So what do you say?” She squeezes the guy a little harder, making him go slack on her arms. Nat was just catching her breath when another man appeared behind her. She almost doubled down when you threw a knife that you procured from your knee-high boots behind her.

“Nice -” she said a little breathless, partially from being tired and also a little turned on.

You walked up to her to give her a hand from the floor. She took the help gratefully. “Yes.”

Nat understood immediately. “Let’s wrap this up quickly then,” she said with a smirk.

***

A few days after sparring with Captain Danvers at SHIELD, you visited the compound one morning to make a quick delivery. The compound was eerily quiet for eight in the morning, making you wonder if you came in too early. Your wandering stopped when you heard the hopeless clanking of pans in the kitchen. You smiled, hoping that it is who you want to see that’s making all the noise. You leaned against the doorway, watching wild red hair rummaging through the cupboards.

“After all this time, you’re still hopeless in the kitchen,” you said to announce your presence.

Natasha stood abruptly, bumping her head on one of the open cabinets. She turned around with a frown while clutching the top of her head. “What the hell! You scared me!”

Her frown only deepened when you won’t stop laughing. It’s not that you didn’t want to stop, you just couldn’t. She looks so adorable with her scowl and wild bed hair bathed in the early morning sunlight streaming through the massive windows in the room. You walked towards her.

“I’m sorry but, this isn’t my fault -” you stopped two feet away from her. “ - no one’s supposed to sneak up on the Black Widow, right?” You teased while rubbing the top of her head.

“No Black Widow business until I have my second cup of coffee, you know the rules.”

Of course, you do. You can’t forget anything about Natasha even if you want to.

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely. You didn’t really mean to startle her - that badly.

Nat looked at you from under her lashes, and had your knees been human they would surely buckle under that look. “Kiss it better,” she demanded.

“What are you, five?” you teased to diffuse your nervousness but, Nat can see right through you.

“Coward.”

You huffed before pulling her towards you and kissed the spot where she hurt herself. “There! Happy now?”

Nat smiled. “I am now.”

***

Before you can say anything else, the rest of the inhabitants of the compound trudges in the kitchen including Maria, Carol, and Wanda.

“Hey.” Everyone greeted monotonously indicating that none of them are fully awake yet. You just smiled politely to everyone to give them time to fully shake the sleep off their systems.

Sam strode in last. He was sweaty and looking alert, probably from doing his morning jog. “Y/N!” he exclaimed when he noticed you. Everyone bristled at his volume, which probably won’t be acceptable regardless of the time of the day. “What brings you around? Not that we don’t want you here. Did you finally realize that you’d like to join our team now?”

“What?” Maria asked after registering Sam’s line of questioning.

“No offense -”

You decided to cut Sam off there. Any sentence that starts with no offense is often kind of offensive. “No, Sam, I’m not joining the Avengers.” Maria visibly relaxes at that while Sam deflated. “I just came here today to deliver you guys this -” You fished out an envelope from the inside pocket of your brown trench coat.

Nat who was still standing next to you reached out and took the envelope. “It’s an invitation,” she mused. Everyone’s looking at you expectantly.

“Yes. Pepper’s throwing me a homecoming party, and I don’t have the heart to tell her no,” you smiled. “Pun not intended.”

The kitchen erupted in excitement while freshly brewed coffee was being passed around. “This is so cool, it’s been so long since we had a Stark party,” Bruce commented, earning a soft elbow from Bucky and poorly concealed side-eyes from the girls. Bruce opened and closed his mouth, unable to form an apology.

“It’s okay Bruce but don’t expect it to be as grand as Tony’s parties,” you said smiling. “So?”

“Count as in!” Sam jumped at the opportunity to change the topic fast. Bucky sighed, resigning to his fate. “For you, I will be there, doll.”

“Thanks, Buck.”

While everyone was distracted about talks of the party and what to wear, you turned towards Natasha. “You’re coming too, right, Tasha?”

Nat smiled at the use of her nickname. You’re the only one who likes to call her that. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, princess.”

***

The party was in full swing when the Avengers arrived at the Tower. Aside from the team, Pepper invited a select few Stark Industries people, from investors as well as your old lab team. Nat didn’t expect anyone else aside from Maria to be invited. So she was surprised to see you standing amongst Agent Colson’s team. Nat’s sure that you saw them arrive but, you made no move to excuse yourself from listening to Agent Simmon’s surely interesting story.

Pepper did excuse herself and greeted the Avengers. “Hey!” She gave everyone a quick hug. “Traffic? Come on, let’s get you guys some refreshments.”

“Yes! Let’s get hammered!” Sam cheered too enthusiastically.

A couple of steps though, Pepper turned back to see the girls still rooted in their place at the doorway. “Coming, ladies?”

“Ah, I think we would say hello to Y/N first,” Maria and Carol answered at the same time without taking their eyes off of you.

Pepper followed their love-struck gaze and chuckled. She assumed it’s a pack thing, so she didn’t bother asking Nat and Wanda anymore and just followed the boys to the catering table. Nat watched Maria and Carol strode confidently towards you, and efficiently inserting themselves into the conversation. Nat watched her girlfriends, subtly inserting their bodies on both your sides, creating a barrier between you and Agent Johnson and Agent Simmons.

***

Natasha can deal with the fact that all her girlfriends have a crush on you. She doesn’t see herself having trouble sharing you with her pack if it came to that. It’s the others she’s worried about. You’re too bright that everyone’s gravitating towards you like moths to a fire, like Icarus to the sun. All night, Nat tried to get you alone but, every time she thinks she finally does, someone else would come over and make conversations with you.

Nat thinks you’re too polite to tell them off. So she excused herself when Agent Simmons came over to talk to you again (for the nth time that night). You smiled at her before turning back to Jenna. The bartender put four tequila shots in front of her the moment she sat on the bar. Bucky then turned to her.

“Thought you might need a stiff drink,” Bucky grumbled over the rim of his beer bottle. Nat downed one shot before glancing in your direction. Bucky didn’t miss how the redhead’s frown dipped a little deeper. “Didn’t think you’re one to walk away when vultures are trying to snatch your girl.”

Nat downed her second shot and slammed the glass down the counter. She’s not my girl, she thought bitterly. She knows full well that you’re not hers to hate Agent Johnson for simply wanting to be near you or for laughing at something you said and her hand landing casually on your biceps. You’re not hers for her to be jealous, she knows that painfully.

She couldn’t watch any longer. She downed the last two shots before turning towards Bucky. “I think I’ll get some fresh air,” she whispered, eyes downcast. “Thanks, Buck.”

Bucky only nodded before Nat hopped off her stool and walked out of the party venue. Nat didn’t turn back to see you watching her leave.

***

Nat snugged a bottle of expensive wine from a passing staff on her way to God knows where. All she knew was that she needed to step away to clear her head or drown her feelings and her regret.

You and Nat have been casually dating for a couple of months, even with your brother’s utter disapproval of the relationship. For the first time in a long time, you were standing against your brother on a matter but that was Nat you were talking about. You weren’t going to give her up without a fight. Eventually, Tony relented but without threatening Nat that if she ever breaks your heart, she’ll be the first person on his non-existent hit list.

Everything was fine. You both were happy until Nat suddenly decided she’s not ready. You didn’t know what happened. All you know was one day, she came back from a mission and decided she’s not ready to be tied down to one person.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I’m not built for this -” she waved her hand. Indicating not only the domesticity of sharing the same living space but also everything that comes with it like building a home with another and shedding walls to letting people in. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t cry, and Nat knew you were letting her go gracefully. Even when she was breaking your heart, you were still thinking of her. “It’s okay, Tasha. I understand,” you said simply. You gave her a small smile before kissing her one last time.

Nat took a long swig of the wine before acknowledging your presence behind her. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at your party?” she spoke without taking her eyes off of the city skyline. The view from the rooftop of the tower was spectacular.

You chuckled nervously. Nat only goes to the rooftop when she needed to think and breathe. You wonder if you’ve done something through the night that might set her off. “I saw you leave the party, I was looking for you.”

“Why?” She took another long swig, making her head spin a little bit.

“Why not? I’ll always look for you when you’re gone.”

Nat suppressed the urged to groan, opting to chug the wine, but you were lightning fast. You caught her wrist before her lips could touch the bottle. You fished the wine out of her grasp. “What’s wrong, Tasha?”

“Nothing,” she answered automatically. Her eyes are darting back and forth from your eyes and your lips. There’s a sad, hungry look on her face you couldn’t understand. You decided to ignore it for the time being and just confront her about it when she’s not one shot away from being drunk.

“Okay, if you say so. Let’s go back inside, it’s cold out here.”

You started to walk back towards the only door to the rooftop when Nat tugged you back roughly to her. “Tasha!” you exclaimed in your surprise when she pinned you between her and the deck railing.

Nat held your eyes for a second before she laid her forehead on your shoulder. “Do you enjoy it? Having everyone wrapped around your fingers?”

You can hear the hurt in her voice. You wanted to question her about it. You want to understand what she’s talking about, but the words wouldn’t come. Especially, when you felt her turn her head slightly, and her left hand caressed your cheeks.

“I can’t get you alone all night,” she whispered as she noses her way from your jaw through your neck.

“Tasha -” God knows you tried not to make it sound like a moan, but it came out exactly like that.

The rest of the words died in your throat as you felt Nat plant the softest of kisses on your neck and her right hand found your leg through the long slit of your dress. Suddenly, it wasn’t so cold anymore. The fire that is Natasha Romanoff warmed you immensely, and you were ready to burn for her again, still.

“You were mine first,” you heard her whisper before she pulled her head away from your neck and smashed her lips against yours for a minute. Then she’s running away, again.

***

MH: Meet me at SHIELD.

WM: What’s wrong, Mar?

Nat frowned at the demanding chat from Maria. She waited patiently for an explanation; she tried not to jump to a conclusion. But at the back of her head, she prayed it’s not another alien threat. She can deal with Hydra, but she doesn’t think she has enough to give to fight and lose people to another Thanos level problem.

MH: Y/N’s down. Otw to the lab with Happy to get started with repairs.

Nat paled, and for a minute, she couldn’t move. Fear gripped her, the past flooding back to her.

She rushed into the hospital when she heard about the accident. Relief flooded her senses when she saw Tony and Pepper alert and awake on their hospital bed. Steve and Rhodey were already there. When the group noticed her, Tony immediately averted his eyes while Pepper started bawling.

“Is the baby okay?” Nat asked, worried that something happened to the baby.

Silence. Nat turned to Steve and Rhodey. Rhodey just frowned, lost for words too. Steve looked like he was trying to string a sentence in his head. “I’m sorry, Nat -”

Nat became even more confused. “For what?” she asked. “Guys, you’re scaring me.”

Tony took an audible, deep breath, catching Nat’s attention back to him. This time, he held her gaze. “Y/N’s home, Nat,” he said. “When we found out that Pepper’s pregnant, we told her, and she came home.”

Nat didn’t know that. No one told her that you’re home, which was understandable after she broke your heart. “Okay,” she nodded. Still, a tad confused as to where this conversation was going. “Do you need me to call her for you?”

“She’s gone, Nat -”

“Wha -”

“She’s dead.” Tony decided it’s better to rip off the bandage clean. Pepper started sobbing again. “She was with us tonight.”

Her phone vibrated on her hand again. She looked at the message from Wanda.

WM: Breath, Nat. She’s inhuman now.

And at that moment, Nat was so thankful that Wanda’s an empath. She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding and closed her eyes for a second to center herself. When she opened her forest-green eyes, she fired a quick text to the group chat before nearly running out of the compound.

NR: I’m on my way.

***

Nat was cursing in Russian under her breath as she power walk through the hallway of SHIELD towards the labs. She made a mistake of jumping on the first available vehicle in the compound’s parking lot, instead of using her MV Augusta F4 RR 312 motorcycle. It would have taken her to the HQ in no time.

She was rounding the last corner before she arrived at the lab when she bumped into Happy.

“Hey.” The man looked exhausted even though the machines in the lab did all the work, but Nat understood it completely. The idea that you got injured affects those who knew you before you were inhuman than those who knew you post-human. “I’m beat. I’m going to crash upstairs.”

Nat nodded with a smile before adding, “thank you, Happy.” She hopes the simple words convey how much she appreciates the man for taking care of you after all this time.

“Anything for Y/N,” Happy answered, smiling. He was almost on the other end of the hallway when he called for Nat again. Nat stopped in her tracks and look at him quizzically. “Be quiet when you get there.”

Then he disappeared. Nat just shrugged and continued to the lab. When she got inside, she floated to the room where she knows you would be and found you sandwiched between Carol and Maria.

“Shouldn’t you be the one sleeping?” she teased softly. You looked up when you heard her voice from the door and smiled.

“I would if I needed one, but I don’t. You, on other hand, look like you can use a nap too.” You tried to speak as softly as you could as not to disturb your sleeping friends(?), but they still manage to stir and look at Natasha. Together they patted the only space available in the bed for her.

Your lap. Nat quirked an eyebrow at the two before looking back at you. You smiled before raising your hand to beckon her to you. Nat decided to throw all her inhibitions to the window and gracefully climbed on the bed with you. It took a bit of squirming around to accommodate her on top of you, but you managed. Nat laid her head on where your heart should be.

Suddenly, Nat felt exhausted. Like all the stress and emotions - the confusion, the disbelief, the longing - she desperately tried to run away from ever since she found out that you’re alive caught up to her then. Her eyes started to close as you run your fingers through her soft red hair.

“I’m still yours,” you whispered, confident that Natasha has joined her softly snoring girlfriends in dreamland. It was quiet for a minute. The only sound in the room is the whirring of machines from the lab outside.

“I’m ready now,” Nat mumbled loud enough for you to hear before she completely went under.

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