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dadsbongos · 3 years ago

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Red Scare

Movie/Game/Show: Marvel Dynamic: Peter Parker/Reader Warnings: some au where everyone’s in the compound and happy because :), i wrote out a russian accent for pronunciation purposes (it’s then quickly wrote out but hey), “slowburn” written by someone impatient, fem pronouns Summary: Peter just really wants to hold your hand and gets embarrassed by Nat and Tony to do it. Word Count: 3.5K ~~~

Steve was the one who’d found you originally. Well, fought you - to be accurate. The super soldier was a target you’d been put on as a Widow when Natasha found you both and broke the fight up. She’d just barely managed to convince Steve to keep you around - insisting that she could help defect you from Widowing and mold you into a new Avenger. It’d worked for her, surely, it’d work for you too - she just needed time. Time that, while hesitant to do so, Steve eventually granted.

Natasha graciously took you under her wing and began teaching you about American culture and how to blend in for more than spy work.

Now, Natasha watches with furrowed brows as Wanda approaches you. She had her arms crossed tensely as you two came to a meet in the middle of the room. She watches you, her dear student, reach out, hesitating before softly taking Wanda by the shoulders and leaning in to gently kiss her left cheek, then right, then left again.

“Okay,” Natasha put up her hands, signaling the two to stop, “so, ученик, you see where you went wrong there? If Wanda’s a stranger, you wouldn’t kiss her on the cheeks, right?”

“Vanda is friend, no?” you gestured between you and the other woman.

“She is,” Natasha nodded before jabbing your forehead with her index finger, “but you need to pretend she isn’t, just for right now.”

Throwing your hands up in defeat, you huffed, “Vhat? I’m bad guy because zis is ridiculous?”

“No one’s trying to say you’re the bad guy,” Wanda gave you a smile and pat on the shoulder, “Just in need of a little more practice.”

“We should start working with accents,” Bucky pitches in for the first time since ‘American etiquette’ lessons began that day, “Her’s is a dead giveaway.”

Natasha nodded before glancing over at the clock, “I’m sure you’d love to do that one, big guy.”

“Why me?” Bucky sat up straighter - he was no good with one-on-one interactions unless they were fights, and with your upbringing in the Red Room, Bucky was certain you didn’t need any combat training.

“I’ve got a mission to get to with Wanda,” the assassin pat the man’s arm with a teasing grin, “So, unless you wanna see who else is available for that, just sit tight till we’re back.”

The two redheads were out before Bucky could even reply, a sigh leaving his lips at the new awkwardness of the situation. It wasn’t even his idea to be involved - he just got looped in because of his time with HYDRA. Which, in his opinion, was unfair - Natasha and Wanda were at least actually Eastern European, he was lumped in by association. He stood, beginning out of the common room with a nod for you to follow, muttering under his breath.

“If I may,” you interject, nearly rushing to keep up with Bucky’s hurried strides, “zat eh, Spider. Spider boy. Is only one home. Stark, maybe. But Spider, definitely”

“Parker…” the man takes a glance at you, trying to shove his disdain for the boy back, “Sure. He should be in the lab.”

It doesn’t take long to find Peter with Tony, Bucky knocking on the doorframe to catch both of their attention, “We need help teaching accents.”

“And articles,” Tony interjects, pushing a stool beside Peter’s and motioning for you to sit, “Unfortunately for you, lavalantula, it’s hard to take you seriously when you say things like ‘get in house’ like a cavewoman.”

“Mr. Stark- “

Before Peter has the chance to defend you, you’re quirking a brow at the man and putting your own two cents into his take, “In fairness, vhat idiot vould get in different house?”

“Accent and articles!” Peter claps, a forced smile bright on his lips, “Will do, Mr. Barnes, you can trust me.”

“I really don’t,” Bucky glares at the poor boy all while he leaves, “If she starts making references to your movies, I’ll personally bring you harm.”

“Opposed to what?” Peter murmured, “Impersonal harm?”

That brought a small laugh from between your lips, causing Peter to perk up once again at the positive attention. It isn’t every day he gets to make a former Russian assassin laugh, he supposes he should take it as a compliment.

He cleared his throat as Tony went about the lab, “Alright, I think that first we should start with articles.”

“Sounds pointless.”

“They kind of are, but we use them here, so…” he scratches at the back of his head, “How about we try making the ‘th’ sound first, sound good?”

“Not really.”

It was a few days with learning from Peter, but you’d felt as though so much progress was made towards the lessening of a Russian accent. Or maybe the praise that slipped from Peter’s lips just made the most minor step forward seem like a leap. The praise brought a new bubble of joy in your chest, one that was never there when Wanda, or the ever rare Natasha, complimented your work. Maybe it’s because Peter was born and raised in America that made it seem more valid - maybe it was his buzz and excitement at teaching. Maybe it was just him.

“Why don’t you try telling me about your day, to get used to speaking with what you learned so far?”

“Uh,” you fumbled, trying to translate the events in your head before speaking, “I woke up. I trained v- with Thor. Then he left for mission,” you paused, realizing your mistake and sighing.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Peter was quick to jump in when he assumed self-doubts were bubbling up, “You’ve got a lot of time to learn, don’t beat yourself up over a mistake. English is a pain in the ass to learn, you should be proud of yourself for picking it up so fast.”

“Yeah?” he could sense the hesitant disbelief in your voice.

Even so, he didn’t let up, giving a confident nod, “Yeah. Just start over whenever. You were doing really well.”

You took a moment to plan out the response in your head, running through it internally a few times before giving Peter a verbal run through, “I woke up. I trained with Thor. Then he left for a mission. I went to the lab. Now I’m here - with you.”

“See? You’re already doing so well, you should be proud. We can work on elongating sentences later down the line, but this is already pretty great!”

You take a moment, planning the pronunciation in your head before responding, “Thank you, Parker.”

“Peter,” he jumps to say, shrinking back slightly at his own eagerness, “Peter is fine, if you wanna call me that.”

“Piter,” you try the name on your tongue.

“I don’t think we’re saying it the same way,” he nods curtly, “but that’s okay! Doesn’t have to be perfect the first time.”

“I would like to try again,” you whisper his name to yourself a few times before repeating it aloud, “Peter…”

“Right! Wow, you’re so good at this already,” Peter turns to Tony, who’s doing a poor job of pretending he wasn’t listening to the pair, “Isn’t she smart, Mr. Stark?”

“Coming from you, kid? That’s a big compliment.”

“I think it’s well-deserved,” he gives you a chuckle, “I really mean it, you’re good at this and this is just a few days into working on your accent.”

“You think so?” there’s a wave of sheepishness that comes with Peter’s attention, with his wide-eyed, all-believing stares that leads you to scratch at the back of your neck, “Good. I would not enjoy to be a bother for long.”

“Not a bother, at all. I like spending time with you, even if it’s just to teach you about American accents.”

Tony closes his eyes and shakes his head, honestly not believing the words as they come out of his mouth, “You two live together, you could hang out whenever you want, kid.”

“Oh, yeah, huh?” Peter’s eyes seem to come alive again, “We should, then. Hang out, I mean. Outside of these accent lessons, unless you don’t want to.”

“No, no,” you feel a small, unfamiliar smile stretch over your own lips, “I vou- would. I would like that, very much.”

“Yep,” Tony slaps a stack of papers on the desk before beginning to make his exit, “Definitely have to work on those sentence frames, Captain Ivan.”

For the duration of Natasha’s absence, you’ve stopped coming to Bucky for lessons on Americanization. Sneaking off with Peter to the kitchen when you can.

"I used to think that melancholy was a vegetable."

"You're genius enough to catch Stark's attention, but thought melancholy was the name of vegetable?"

"Doesn't it sound like it though? Can you really tell me I'm wrong?"

"No, no, I can see it. Like celery and the uh, the one fruit. They had a baby."

"The one fruit?"

"The one, I forgot the word. Don't you have a word for дыня?"

"You do realize I have no idea what you just said, right?"

Sometimes to either of your rooms, or walking together around the perimeter of the building, or traversing through the little garden Wanda had been working hard on.

"Would you like some food? I'm ordering."

"I don't have any money, sorry."

"I did not ask if you had money, Peter. Do you want food or not?"

"But I can't pay you back and then I feel all icky on the inside part."

"Think of it as gift then, no paying back needed. Gift for being a good friend."

"Aw, you think I'm a good friend?"

"If I had to have a first friend, then I'm glad it was you. You're a good person, Peter. I'm glad we met."

"I'm really glad we met, too."

Little times set apart to spend time together that always begin as lessons.

"You ever heard of solipsism?"

"Maybe, what is it?"

"Uh, the belief that everything around you was created in your mind."

"Then yes, why, Peter?"

"Well, I just was thinking… You know, if everything around me is imaginary then you're the best thing I've ever come up with."

"Peter…"

"I'm sorry, was that too cheesy?"

"No, I just- it was really nice, actually. Thank you."

"Well, don't thank me, it's true."

Times that quickly morphed into discussions on Peter’s favorite movies or what little parts you miss of home.

"Would you ever go back? Like, to Russia?"

"Only if I had to. Too many poor memories there."

"What would be 'having to'?"

"If someone I really cared about needed me to. You or Natasha, mostly."

"You'd go back for me?"

"If you were in need of saving and I had to return to Russia to do it, yes, I'd go back."

"That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard."

"Peter, it is quite actually the bare minimum in terms of saving you."

Nobody expected it to last longer than the time that Natasha was gone - she was like a big sister to you, a safeplace when the Tower felt cold. So, when she came home and you didn’t re-glue yourself to her hip - people were quick to notice.

“I didn’t think Parker could get worse,” Sam noted under his breath, “But there he is, digging underneath the bar.”

Truly, Sam could’ve just looked away - but it was hard to do that when he was watching Peter fucking Parker, the littlest Avenger, try to win a game of footsies with you at the kitchen island. It’d be a cute sight if Sam weren’t the one having to see it.

“I’m staying out of it,” Bucky shook his head, staring down at the table as he pushed his food around his plate, “I haven’t been hungry since they got in here.”

Suddenly, Peter stands, “You’re low on coffee,” he points down at your mug before moving around the counter to the pot, “Do you want more? Just, while I’m up and here.”

“I hate that kid,” Sam shook his head, standing up and starting out of the kitchen, “I hope she rejects his ass.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Steve muttered, “In a way only an ex-Widow could manage.”

“She would’ve eaten him alive on the field, you know?” Bucky shook his head as he watched Peter contently refill your coffee and you give a rare smile only he and Natasha ever really knew, “I miss those days.”

“You try so hard to content me…” you begin, unaware of the conversation behind you, and tap your fingers on the counter’s marble, “Why?”

“You seem nice,” he shrugs, deflating when all you shoot him with in return is a skeptical look, “You do - you are. I like spending time with you.”

Before he can scold himself, you’re smiling again, patting his shoulder, “Thanks, Peter, you’re reassuring. I will be training with Nat if you need me.”

Peter expected a lot of things in his life - joint pain when he’s old, to be an Avenger with Mr. Stark, for missions to not always go perfectly, but gaining a crush on a girl who, admittedly, kind of intimidated him, wasn’t one of those things. But, also admittedly, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome, he’s noticed. He waits for Steve to make his exit before turning in his stool to face the only other man left in the room.

“Hey, Mr. Barnes?”

“Oh my- what?”

“You know Miss Romanoff, right?”

“Nat?”

“No, that’s Ms. Romanoff.”

“You mean ученик?”

“Sure, yeah, that’s what you guys call her.”

“Why are you calling her ‘Romanoff’, that’s not her last name at all.”

“No, but she’s like Ms. Romanoff's sister, or daughter, or something, so it fit. Anyway, do you know her?”

“Yes, Parker, obviously I know her.”

“Well, I think I may or may not like her like more than a friend, a lot, and I was wondering if you knew what she was into? Like date-wise… or gift-wise… or hey, even partner-wise, if she talks about that, ever.”

“She doesn’t and please don’t involve me in this. Go ask Nat.”

And so, Peter does ask Nat.

He makes up an excuse about wanting to be more agile on the field to drag her away from you before popping the question, “Do you think she likes me?”

Natasha doesn’t need clarification, she’s seen the way Peter looks at you whenever you’re around each other. It’s sweet. It’s like he’s seeing a full moon for the first time. He’s so attentive and soft towards you. Sure, the dynamic of a gentle-natured superhero from Queens and a Russian ex-Widow, current Avenger-in-training is a little strange, but she’s all for it if it means you’re happy. You’re like the little sister she so desperately wants back.

“She might,” the redhead shrugs, “Poor ученик isn’t so open with her feelings, kid. I can barely get her to open up about what she thought about dinner let alone her feelings towards the others,” when the boy’s face drops, she tilts him by the chin to meet her eyes, “That being said, I’ll talk to her. She’s a lot nicer to you than she is with the rest of the team so I wouldn’t kill that hope so fast.”

Peter barely manages to smother down a smile before nodding, giving an awkward thumbs up, and racing back down the hall, a “Thanks, Ms. Romanoff!” echoing after him.

Nat purses her lips in thought of who could be able to help her. Who was nosy enough and bothersome enough to try and set up two teenagers?

“Hey,” Tony pointed to the group of Natasha, Wanda, Bucky, and yourself on the couch, “Red Scare, in the training room.”

“Vh- Which one of us are you referring to?”

The man simply tapped the door frame with a nod, “Five minutes or I’m docking your missions.”

“He can’t do that,” Bucky shook his head, eyes narrowing as realization sat in, “Can he?”

And so, in under five minutes, the quartet found themselves in the training room with Tony.

“Underoos needs some training with fighting tactics known to HYDRA - so, who here wants to be the helpful little hero to do that?”

You look between the others, quirking a brow and shaking your head, “HYDRA is not a hub of top secret fighting techniques, it would be like pairing Peter with anybody else.”

“Sounds like you need to get familiar with other fighting styles then,” Natasha tuts, “I’ve let you off too easy just training with me.”

“I literally fight Steve and Thor all the time, there isn’t much difference just because he’s American,” you narrow your eyes at the woman, “If you both are up to something just admit it now.”

“No, no, there’s definitely a difference,” Bucky pitches in - though clearly not content with being roped into the mess of getting Parker a girlfriend, “He’s all in-your-face and forceful, you’re more like sneak-and-stab.”

“Because I am spy and he is fighter!” you shout, looking to Wanda with wide eyes, “Am I being the specific one? I feel as though I am not being the specific one.”

Wanda feels guilt run through her veins as she shrugs, actively knowing she’s aiding in tricking you, “You should give it a try. For comparison reasons.”

“You’re all making me feel crazy and I do not like it, I am at least a little certain this is a form of manipulation.”

“You’re a spy, you should be able to tell,” Bucky pats your back, “Anyway, I’m busy - you have to fight the kid.”

“Vision and I had a dinner reservation,” Wanda ducks out of the room quickly.

Tony points at you with raised brows, “You got it then, Xenia Onatopp?”

“I- “ you sigh and throw your hands up in defeat, “I suppose I do.”

A few minutes later, Peter is shoved into the training room while you stuff on a pair of gloves - eyes sliding over to the doorway to look at his jumpy form. You scoff, “They are up to something and I feel like I know what.”

“What? What - what do you mean?” Peter nervously crosses his arms and tilts his head, “Up to what?”

“Peter,” you raise a brow at him in question, “do you expect me to believe you are dumb? They are making us spend time together like this, what could that possibly mean?”

His mouth opens and closes, eyes avoiding your gaze like it’s deadly, “Who knows, honestly?”

Shaking your head, you begin removing your gloves, “Okay then, do not talk to me until you are ready to tell the truth.”

“Wait!” Peter latches onto your hand as you pass him by the doorway, “Wait, wait, wait… I- I’m sorry. I just really like you and so I asked Ms. Romanoff for help and I didn't think that she’d team up with Mr. Stark because nothing really good comes from Mr. Stark meddling in things other than tech and saving the world, but she did and they did this. I would’ve said something but you’re just really cool and I was scared you wouldn’t like me back so I tried to see if Ms. Romanoff could test the waters for me.”

“You see where that was a mistake, right?” you reach up, brushing your hand through Peter’s bangs, “I do like you, Peter. A lot. So I would appreciate you being upfront with me rather than looking through Natasha for answers.”

“Right, and I’m sorry- “

“Was honest mistake, Peter, do not worry any longer.”

“Are you sure?”

“Would not have said so if I wasn’t. I do not like your worry.”

Peter wrought his hands together, lips pursed, "Can we not pretend to train and just hang out then?"

"Are you certain you do not want me to kick your ass?"

“Well, now that you said that I feel pressure to prove that you won’t,” Peter shook his head and sighed, “I’m okay with taking a loss today.”

“You didn’t even try, didn’t even initiate.”

“So I’m the bad guy cuz I don’t wanna get my ass kicked, okay,” the boy sarcastically muttered before laying his back against the wall and sliding down to the floor, “Hey, you’re bilingual, right?” at your nod of confirmation, he continued, “What language do you think in? Russian?”

You pondered the question before shrugging, “I’m not even sure I think.”

---

“So,” Natasha looks between the two, “how was the training?”

“Awful,” Peter shakes his head, “Hated it.”

“Right… and you, ученик?”

You look over to Peter, his subtle grin and fidgety movements, before shrugging, “He’s a child,” you sigh, “Terrible.”

“Oh, is that so?” Natasha squints between the two of you.

You both nod in unison, “Definitely.”

“Anyway,” you cut in quickly, “we are off to ask Thor to let us try and lift Mjolnir. Please, don’t meddle in teenagers who have will-they-won’t-they scenarios, just let us be awkward about it.”

“What she said,” Peter grinned broadly before gently tapping his finger against your hand and withholding a small cheer when you intertwined your hand with his and led him through the halls to find Thor.

He was almost scared how much he enjoyed the feeling of your hand in his, something so small and inconsequential and yet it made his heart flutter all the same.

“This is nice,” he lifts up your hands briefly.

“I would hope so,” you tease, “I like it, though, is cute, no?”

“It is. Definitely is. I think so.”

“I do, too. We should do it more often.”

#peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #peter x you #peter x reader #idk if the length of this gives it away #but i really like the idea of peter and his russian murder girlfriend

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organchordsandlightning · 2 years ago

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tagged by @bluejayblueskies and @tired-beholding-bitch (a month ago. oops.) to find the words shadow, hand, love, pause, care, and heavy!

throwing these under a readmore - spoilers for Malevolent EP25!

care and hand (lucky double whammy!) from a fluffy-one shot were John and Arthur hug for the first time

Why did you shake my hand? When I first came back?

Some water stuck in his trachea. Arthur coughed, each movement making his head pulse with pain. “I was relieved to see you!” He exclaimed, a little hoarse. “I thought I made that clear.”

Yes. I know that. But why did you shake my hand?

That was much harder to answer. “Well, it’s what people do after not seeing each other for a long while.” He could anticipate the next question. “Some people like physical contact, I suppose. Whether it’s a reassurance, a-a symbol of care, a sign that you see them as equals …”

Which one was it for you?

Arthur had to think on it a moment. “All three. And a comfort. While I didn’t relish the thought of losing the hand again, it was worth it to have you back.”

A comfort, John mused. Arthur could feel his pointer, middle, and index press against his right shoulderblade. His little finger hung limply against the back of his shirt.

shadow from a game you’re destined to lose, a sequel to a Malevolent AU I’m working on:

Concern made John’s brow furrow. “Did Arthur seem like the sort of person who would?”

“I wanna say no.” Parker seemed disconcerted by the thought. “Arthur was my best pal. He was a good guy, John, he worked harder than anyone I’d ever met and if you could make him laugh, you knew he’d die for you. But when a guy keeps so much of his life in shadow, you end up wondering what he’s hiding in there.”

“Okay.”

“I just –” Agitated, now, Parker went on. “I just don’t want you thinking that I, I was scared of English or anything. Maybe it wasn’t like how other people operated, but we made it work. I didn’t have to know everything about him to trust him, and I –”

“Parker.”

heavy from a TMA Uni AU that I’m chipping away at!:

“I, ah. My girlfriend and I … my girlfriend broke up with me. Um, it’s why I had to move.”

Oh.

Oh, fucking … yeah. Obvious. Or, at least, Martin should have thought about it before then. He saw students loads and they often pretended like he wasn’t there. Plus, so many students cried in the bathrooms, especially when he needed to clean it.

And it wasn’t all relationship stuff. Classes were stressful (Martin imagined), plus there were the usual sorts of tragedies that could strike at any time. It was just. A lot of relationship stuff.

He had to say something. The air was heavy, and Jon looked like he expected to be called a naughty boy.

pause from a Malevolent post-25 angst piece

“Cultist? My boy, I am no more a cultist than Prester John. I am simply doing what is best for this town. Can’t you see that?”

“What is best, what is best, I am sick and fucking tired hearing about what is best! You don’t know a god damn thing, Daniel, and you certainly don’t know what is best!”

“Daniel?”

The slip made Arthur pause. Just as his arms were numb, he felt like he’d scarcely been able to feel his own mind for hours: the words came tumbling out like a waterfall with hardly little to catch them. Of course this wasn’t Bella’s father, Arthur knew that, and he couldn’t fathom why his brain had volunteered the name so readily.

love from, curveball, a Sheridan Tapes Season 2 fic

He separated from Bill and brushed his sleeve over his eyes, taking Bill’s hand with his free one. “You … you look like hell, love,” he tried to joke, even if it was absolutely true and not the least bit funny. “Come on, you should sit.”

Bill obeyed. He was hunching his shoulders, head held low. That wasn’t Bill. Bill was the guy who looked up posture videos. Bill was the guy who went on walks around the department to make sure he wasn’t too sedentary.

alas, i won’t tag anyone because i think most folks have been tagged at this point! but thanks for the nudge y’all, it was fun to push through my folders!

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be-gay-do-heists · 4 years ago

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They all liked to de-stress after jobs in different ways. Sophie, for example, liked a nap or a glass of wine to relax, recharge, and get out of character. Nate preferred a quiet game of chess or a pensive walk in the neighborhood if the weather was pleasant (no talking allowed). Hardison was usually up to indulging him in the former, as a sort of warm-down for his brain. Otherwise he’d usually put on a well-watched favorite show and let the sounds wash over him while he did his hand stretches. But he was struck by just how different Eliot and Parker were when it came to unwinding after a con. Particularly after a job where she had to do a lot of grifting, Parker sometimes shut down and went nonverbal. Talking and touch were both off the table, so she’d usually hole up somewhere until she was up to socializing again. Eliot was the exact opposite: he wanted to be as close as possible for a few hours after a job. Hardison couldn’t figure out quite why; maybe wanting to make sure they were all safe, or (the hacker thought most likely) he needed a little physical comfort of his own, especially since he had just been using his own touch for violence. Which is why the hitter was pressed fully up against Hardison’s arm, watching him plan his next move against Nate. The mastermind was losing, as usual, but that could change in an instant. Despite Eliot’s gruff commentary every couple of minutes, Hardison could tell he was finally starting to loosen up after their last job.

He had just taken Nate’s second knight when Parker appeared in the living room. He hadn’t heard her come in, but that was no big surprise (though noting her position by the open vent entrance, it was scary how silent she could be). She stood where she was, looking a little subdued, until she caught Nate’s attention and signed something rapidly at him. Hardison tried to keep up but he was still learning the basics; Nate was only one who had a firm enough grasp on ASL to communicate with Parker when she went nonverbal. The older man hummed and turned back to Hardison. “She wants to know where you put your work headphones.”

“Oh shoot, I left them down in the backroom. Hold on, um…” He would go get them with her, but he didn’t want to leave Eliot without someone to latch on to or he might get stressed again. Bringing him along wasn’t a great idea either, he and Parker tended to get on each other’s nerves when they were both so sensitive. While he was trying to sort options, Sophie sat up on the couch. He hadn’t even realized she was still awake.

“Eliot, why don’t you come sit over here for a minute?” Hardison mouthed a thank you at her and the corner of her mouth lifted minutely while Eliot hesitantly unstuck himself from the hacker’s side and went over. Satisfied, he beckoned to Parker. “Come on, let’s go down and get ‘em real quick.”

The stairs were quicker but also louder and more echo-y, so Hardison pressed the down button for the elevator. “Were we being too loud?” he asked quietly.

Parker shook her head and brought her fingers together. No. She finger-spelled slightly slower for his benefit. v-e-n-t n-o-i-s-e.

He nodded. “Alrighty, just let us know if you want us to keep it down.” They got in the elevator, Hardison making sure to keep a good distance between them. “Hey, do you want your own pair of headphones? So you don’t have to use mine?”

She shrugged, but genuinely seemed to be considering it. Hardison knew that if she decided yes, she’d come find him in a couple days and demand his help in finding a pair. He liked that she trusted him like that; he could already picture the shade of green she’d want to get them in.

When they got to the backroom he went straight to where he’d left his thick headphones for heavy-duty crafting and handed them over to Parker. On the way back up in the elevator, Hardison wished there was something he could say to help her feel better. His Nana’s voice piped up in his head: Can’t go racing around trying to fix things all the time, Alec. Sometimes the best you can do for a person is just be, and wait for them to say what they need, like during shiva.

For Parker, he’d wait as long as she needed.

As they got to the apartment, Parker slipped the headphones on, flashing him a fond face, and started getting back into the vents. Hardison detoured briefly to the couch to look at Sophie laying fully atop Eliot, dead asleep. The scowl the hitter sent his way was betrayed by the way he looked totally relaxed at being a human mattress. Hardison filed that away for later.

The hacker resumed his seat across from Nate. “Alright, now I can get back to kicking your ass.”

Nate raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that how it’s going to be?”

“Sure is,” Hardison said, smiling deviously, and the game was back on.

#leverage #miko speaks #fic #oh they are all friends!!#i have no idea if this is good but its been stuck in my head all day #so please take. eat #long post

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jadedxrealityw · 4 years ago

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-Mind Stone- Peter Parker x Female Reader Part 2

☼-☪-☼

Kody: Part 2 in this shit

Movie/Show: After Endgame, but no one died because ignorance is bliss.

Summary: In the attack of 2012, you were given powers that you couldn’t understand at such a young age.

Possible Triggers / Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of blood and harm,

☼-☪-☼

Tony handed you a bandaid. You took it from his hand and notice the cartoon picture of Iron Man on it. What a not surprised in the slightest. You peel off of the paper backing and stick it over the small wound caused by the needle. “Were done, but i want you to stay here until we can get Thor and antlers here”

you exhale deeply. After already spending the night you thought you’d be back at the girls home by now. Not that you wanted to go back, you just didn’t want to hear Nancy’s bitching once you did return “I think my caretaker might worry about me if i’m gone again”

Tony placed the tablet he was holding on the counter and looked at you “Yeah she’s a real piece of work isn’t she. You have special permission now” he says. What in the vague. You hop off the chair and feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

you stuck your hand into the dark grey sweatpants you wore. Wanda offered you clothes to sleep in so you wouldn’t be so uncomfortable. She gave you a matching slightly cropped tank and sweatpants. She was a sweetheart. Once you pull out your phone you tap the screen.

it was a text from Peter ‘Can you get away for a minute?’ you hold back the urge to smile and look up at Tony “Can i go?” you ask and he waves his hand, shooing you way “Yeah we’re good. Get some rest and make sure to hydrate. Now get out”

you roll your eyes with a half smile before walking towards the door “Bye” you say before pushing it open and heading out.

☼-☪-☼

you push open the door you were staying in and saw Peter sitting on the bed, picking at his nails. He looks up once he hears the noise and smiles upon seeing you “Hey” he says. You smile back and walk over to stand in front of him, looking down to meet his gaze “Hello”

Peter looks at you then the bed. What is he a bed? You take a seat next to him, but end up laying back to look at the ceiling “You look tired” Peter says and lays back next to you. You chuckle quietly “Yeah. I got my blood drawn, but at least it’s over with”

Peter hums in response. You notice he awkwardly folded his hands over his chest, not knowing what to do with them. You shuffle over and lay your head on his chest, feeling him instantly tense up. “Is this okay or are you going to implode?”

he shakes his head “No!-” he protests “i mean it’s okay, just uh- just stay there” he says in a more quiet tone. You stifle a bit of laughter and curl up next him, feeling a bit drowsy at this point. Peter wraps arm around your waist “Are you tired?”

“Yeah a little” you respond, closing your eyes. Peter holds onto you as he moves to the top of the bed, laying his head on a pillow “You should sleep then, i’ll wake you up if something happens” he talked in a more hushed tone now. You smile before dozing off.

“Y/n?” he says before he is interrupted by quiet snores. He smiles to himself, wishing he didn’t leave his phone in his bag so he could take a picture of you. Would that be weird? It’s not like he would made it his lockscreen. Nevermind that’s the exact reason he would take a photo.

he raised his free arm to try and web his bag to him, but once he did you started to stir slightly “Not worth it not worth it” he mumbles before kissing your head. He stays still until you stop moving before exhaling. He had never cared about another person's nap so much.

damn his arm was starting to fall asleep.

☼-☪-☼

an hour later

Wanda opened the door to your room and was slightly surprised to see Peter playing with your hair while you slept on his chest “Uh- i knocked, why didn’t you say anything?” she asked. Peter looked down at you for a moment then Wanda “I didn’t want to wake her up. I also can’t feel my arm”

she smiles brightly at the young love “Why didn't you just move her” she questions, folding her arms across her chest “I have never moved each time you fell asleep on me” Vision spoke from behind her. Wanda looks at him with a slightly shocked expression “You can move. I wouldn’t have been mad”

“That’s not the point darling. I don’t want to move” Vision replies. Wanda sighs “Will talk more about this later’ she says to him before “Tony would like to see her in the main lobby. i’m assuming he doesn’t know your here?” she says with a small grin.

Peter smiles nervously “Yeah- i snuck in. I- i- can get her up. Just give me a few minutes” he said with a pleading look. Wanda smiles, nodding and grabs Visions arm “Bye Peter” she said and walked alongside her lover, closing the door shut.

Peter sighs, not really wanting to move at this point, but knew you had to be somewhere. He starts to softly shake your shoulder “Y/n- Y/n you have to get up. Mr. Stark needs you in the lobby” you mumble something incoherent to him before rolling over onto your other side. “No”

he chuckles to himself and stretches his arm for a second “Come on- we can always sleep later” he tries to rationalize. You groan out before propping yourself up on your elbows “Fine, but i’m not going to enjoy whatever the hell is happening” you say in an attempt to be petty.

you hear Peter laugh at your response “I’ll come with you then” he suggests. You smile slightly at the thought and throw your legs over the bed. “Let’s go then” you say and let out yawn. You walk over to the side of the bed Peter was on nd slip your feet into the slippers on the floor.

Peter stands up and reaches up to fix his now bed head. You lift your hand and move a piece of hair from his face “Thank you” he says and you nod. Suddenly, he leans down and captures your lips in his, catching you a bit off guard but you weren’t complaining.

you went to pull away when one his hands was placed on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. Well damn Peter Parker. He deepens the kiss more by placing his other hand on the nape of your neck. After a couple seconds you both pull away “What was that for?” you ask.

“I haven’t got to kiss you all day” he says with a brow raised like it was so obvious. “Oh okay” you hold back some laughter.

☼-☪-☼

you and Peter walk to the lobby. During your small walk he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and kept you close to him while he talked about how he got his powers. A radioactive spider. That seemed much more awesome then being manipulated by a god at the age of six.

“Well look at you two” you both look up too see Tony grinning at the both of you so close together. Peter’s face flushes, but he keeps his arm around you “Tony don’t tease them” Wanda comments. Peter hides his face behind your head until the redness went down.

“Nice one Spider-Boy” you comment, earning yourself a small growl under his breath, which was interesting to hear to be honest. Suddenly a yellow circle appeared in front of the glass doors. You instinctively take a step back, but Peter keeps you in place “It’s okay” he reassures.

you trust his word and stay put as the circle grew quite large. A man stepped out. He was wearing sort of medieval clothes with a maroon cape that seemed to move on its own- Dr. Strange? “Hello” he said to the room and steps to the side as....Thor the god of thunder steps through the portal, hair cut short.

at first you were slightly fangirling inside, but then it sunk in who would walk in next. In all his glory, Loki the god of mischief walks through and stands next to his brother. He was wearing an all black suit. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to throw up or run away- maybe both.

“Would anyone like to explain why we’re here?” Thor asks, shaking Tony’s hand. “I would also like to know that, considering no one here likes me” Loki adds, fixing the cuffs of his sleeves. “Yeah antlers shut it- 2012 attack. Remember talking to a little girl?”

Loki gave Tony a strange look “May i remind you all that i was under the control of Thanos and barley remember a thing. Also, what little girl? I hate children” he says with a face of slight disgust. “I might be able to help you all with that” Strange cuts in.

“Even if you don’t remember anything. Those memories are still locked away in your head. I could access them” he says, gesturing to one of his hands. Loki looks him up and down “I will not have anyone inside my head, that’s sort of my thing” he retorts.

Thor crosses his arms over his broad chest “Why is this important?” he directed his question to Tony. “Infinity Stone cleanup.” he says vaguely. Loki sighs and takes a deep breath after “Fine- make it quick and only look at what you need too.

Strange steps forward “Trust me- i don’t want to look at anything else” he reassures amd steps behind Loki. He placed his hands on either sides of Loki’s head and began to mumble a few words. In an instant it was like Loki became a projector.

his memory was played in a hologram like manner. Peter and you watch from behind so its inverted for the both of you- not like you haven’t lived through it or anything, but okay. All of you watched as Loki gave you the powers and your tiny body float up then faint.

once the memory was over Loki watched the tiny child disappear along with the memory and left standing behind the little girl was you. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together at this point. “Why did you show me this?” Loki snapped, pushing Strange’s hands away from his head.

“Because reindeer games. You under the raisins control only gave her a tad of the Mind Stone’s power- just the teleportation and portals. You gave her some of your powers” Tony says. The room collectively gasped “I- What?” Loki replied before looking at you.

you felt your body tense a bit. Peter felt his spidey sense flare up and kept his arm tightly wrapped around you, but for so long you wanted to confront this guy. Tell him off. Wish him dead, but you had just learned it wasn’t his fault. What were you to do now?

you push away from Peter, despite his protest and confidently walked up to Loki, stopping a few feet away from him “Hey, i guess” you say, shrugging your shoulders. Loki gulps and nods at you “Hello. I uh- i apologize for what i did” he said, you can tell he was struggling to find the words.

you wave your hand “Don’t be. You can do one thing for me though” you say, a malicious grin making a way to your face. Loki narrows his eyes before answering “and that would be?” he asked. What could you possibly want from him?

“Teach me how to use it”

☼-☪-☼

a month later

“You can do better” Loki scolded as he circled around you. You were both in the training room and had been at it for three hours. You were regretting asking him to teach you how to use these damned powers. “Go again!” he exclaims and you form to blades as he charges at you.

you push yourself left and watch as Loki stumbles a bit. You use this opportunity to drop down and kick him completely off balance. Loki falls to the floor and as you went to hit him, he kicked you in the chest, knocking the wind out of you “OH you slimy prick!” you coughed.

Loki grins as he pushes himself off the floor “I’ll add it to the list of things you call me” he says before coming at you again. You stood there and waited until he was inches away before dropping to the floor and sliding across. You end up behind him and wrap your arm around his neck, holding the blade against it.

you could Loki huffs to try and catch his breath “Much better. Now we’re done for the day” he declares. You exhale and let go of him “Thank god” you say and wave your hand, the blade fading away. “I’ll clean up, you leave. I’m sure your bug boy is waiting for you” Loki rolls his eyes.

“His name is Peter and he’s scared of you” you say with narrowed eyes. His frown turns into a small grin “Good” he replies. You chuckle to yourself before walking towards the door “Bye Loki” you say before walking out the room. Time to hit the showers.

☼-☪-☼

after taking a shower, you sat down on your bed, looking out the window. You wished Loki was right about Peter waiting for you, but he had been busy all week with crime and patrolling. He was Spider-Man after all. You had just hadn’t expect to be so clingy.

it was late as much you wanted to stay up for him you decided to just get some rest. You had put on Peters midtown sweatshirt he left a couple weeks ago. It smelt like him so it’ll have to do until you could see your actual boyfriend ago- holy shit. He had never really asked you to be his girlfriend.

how come you didn’t notice that before? You were just happy to be with him that you didn’t care about the labels and such. Strange. You climb into bed and pulled the comforter over you while grabbing a pillow to hug close to your chest. It helped you fall asleep sometimes.

you plug in your phone and place it on the empty space in the bed. Closing your eyes you force yourself to drift off to sleep so tomorrow could come quicker. It was child like logic, but hey- sometimes children logic is all you need.

☼-☪-☼

a couple hours later

your eyes slowly open and your met with the sight of Peter in his suit, just outside your window. He was knocking on it and looking around outside. Not creepy at all. You get up out of bed, using one hand to rub your eyes while the other undid the latch of the window.

“Hey. Sorry for waking you” he says, climbing into the room and taking off his mask. You walk back to your bed and pick up your phone “Peter it’s two in the morning. Isn’t May going to worry where you are?” you question. YOu turn around just as his suit faded into the spider symbol.

Peter shakes his head and places the symbol down on the dresser “No. She knows i’m staying here tonight” he says. You narrow your eyes, walking over to him “You didn’t tell me you were staying over. I haven’t gotten any time with you this week” you say with a small pout.

he smiles and grabs your hands “That’s why i’m here- is that my sweatshirt?” he asked, looking down at the blue piece of clothing. You shrug “Maybe” he shakes his head “You look really good in it Might have to let you keep it” he says and leans down to give you a kiss, but you turn your head away.

“I wasn’t planning on giving it back to you bug boy” you tease. Damn- you gotta stop hanging out with Loki for awhile. Peter’s face drops “I’m ignoring the bug comment for now. You rejected my kiss. I haven’t kissed you all week Y/n” his tone was whiney and made you want to laugh.

“I’m sorry” you say trying to hold back laughter. Peter smiles and finally plants his lips on yours, It was like every other kiss, sweet. Until Peter did his whole hand on the back of your neck thing to pull you in for deeper kiss. You reach up to wrap your arms loosely around his neck.

Peter lifts you off the ground and places you on the bed, breaking the kiss “Hm. I missed that” he whispers and leans his forehead against yours. You smile, looking up at him. You arms fall as you let out a yawn “and i missed my human pillow, now get under the covers”

“Yes ma’am” he replies with a quiet laugh and lays on his back. You lay your head on his chest and tangle your legs with his. Peter pulls the blanket over the both of you “Night Y/n” he says and kisses your head sweetly before closing his eyes. You smile and close yours as well.

“Goodnight Peter”

☼-☪-☼

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☼-☪-☼

Kody: shitty end, but hey i thought it was decent. Request be open btw. Anyways, peace.

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Night Out

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family Characters: Gordon, Scott

#fluffember day 18 - ‘touch’ - and something a little different, mostly because @janetm74 decided to call me out about whacking ‘unsuspecting characters’ with a chair of ‘pain and suffering’ and @gumnut-logic mentioned literally hitting them with a chair... I promise this is mostly fluff still! That Teen rating (Teen for a fluff fic? Tsari what are you doing?) is for language and alcohol, because we have two former military boys in a London pub.

Gordon learnt two things that night: Scott was an affectionate drunk, and sometimes people throw bar stools for no good reason.

Gordon couldn’t recall the last time he’d gone out with Scott – just Scott – for a reason that wasn’t mission related. He’d hit the town with Alan (not that alcohol was allowed on those occasions, what with the kid being underage and all that) a few times, and Virgil on more than a few post-mission de-stressors, but Scott was always too busy for frivolous things like having fun.

No more. It had taken some convincing, a lot of wheedling, and the strong-arm combination of Grandma and Virgil, but a blissful forty-eight hours’ downtime was being spent in England, just because they could. The gracious offer of being chauffeured around by Parker – made by her Ladyship, to the man’s apparent disgruntlement – just made the choice all the easier. And what better way to unwind than a nice, rowdy night in the pub?

Karaoke, free-flowing alcohol, and Scott’s communicator firmly confiscated in the Creighton-Ward manor to ensure he didn’t slip back into work habits meant that he was having the time of his life, and Scott seemed to be enjoying himself, too. At least, if the gaggle of girls he’d acquired, flirting with him and being flirted with in kind, was anything to go by, his big brother was definitely enjoying himself for once.

Unwilling to spend the entire night as the wingman, and definitely not interested in finding out if Scott managed to go further than just exchanging some smooth words, Gordon had found himself over by the pool table. He’d spent enough time in pubs – even if he’d been underage for most of it and Scott (probably) didn’t know that – to be able to find entertainment with a group of strangers, so separating from his brother wasn’t much of an issue.

He was good at pool, too. Good enough to quickly work his way through the ranks until he was the champion everyone else paid to play, and all in all he was having a really good time of it. The drinks were good, the company was fantastic, and best of all, he was having a blast. Maybe later he’d drag Scott away from the girls for a game – show the Londoners exactly how good the Tracys were (and hope Scott was inebriated enough not to beat him, because Scott played a mean game sober).

At least, that was the plan. The world liked to mess with plans.

It started with raised voices. Nothing unusual in a pub, especially now it was entering late evening and the alcohol had been flowing for a while. Gordon thought nothing of it, and continued to roast his latest challenger at pool, beaming when the black ball found the pocket. Well-meant congratulations passed between the two of them – they had manners, after all – and Gordon cast around for his next opponent.

Then the tingle ran up his spine, and immediately on its heels came a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey, bro,” the guy – Dennis, Gordon had trounced him two games earlier to much laughter and another pint – started. “Didn’t you come in with that guy?”

There was only one that guy he’d come in with, and combined with his squid sense kicking in, Gordon had a sinking feeling as he turned to look at where he’d left Scott.

Just in time to see a bar stool smash into his head.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was just Gordon’s default reaction to seeing someone smash a bar stool over his brother’s head, but his vision went red. The pool cue dropped, but he paid no attention to where it landed, already surging forwards towards where his brother had crumpled to the floor.

Someone was laughing, someone else was screaming, but Gordon had eyes for only two things: his unmoving brother, and the guy still holding the bar stool aloft.

“Hey!” he roared, elbowing gawkers out of the way and slamming into the guy hard enough to make him loose his grip on the stool. It fell to the floor with a crash, thankfully missing Scott, followed by the man himself. Gordon kept his feet, feeling the buzz of alcohol mixing with adrenaline, and placed himself firmly between the aggressor and his brother.

Everyone else backed off; in his periphery Gordon could tell that the three of them – him, Scott and the stool-wielding asshole – were loosely ringed in by the other patrons of the pub, all looking on with varying emotions ranging from astonishment, fear, and bloodlust.

“You with ‘im?” Stool-Bastard spat, pulling himself to his feet with a glower that was supposed to be intimidating. Gordon hadn’t served in WASP to be cowed by a drunkard in a London pub.

“You attack him for a reason?” he shot back, hearing shuffling noises from directly behind him. Good, that sounded like Scott was conscious. The pleasant fuzz of alcohol was gone, leaving him as sharply aware as it was possible to be after however many drinks he’d had, and he tallied everything up as the guy snarled, swaying on the spot but not attacking. Not yet.

Tabs were all paid up; no need to worry about any unpaid drinks. No sign of the bouncers, but that could change any moment and a barfight was not high on Gordon’s list of reasons to get arrested (yes, he had one. No, his brothers didn’t know about it). The nearest exit was… there, by the group of girls Scott had been with.

If Scott was conscious, as he suspected, it wouldn’t take much to get out of there. He just needed to not be attacked the moment he turned his back.

“’E was ‘itting on my girl,” the man snarled. Gordon had many things to say to that, including the fact that Scott – even drunk – had morals and that if the guy didn’t trust his girlfriend around other guys then maybe he should be looking for problems a little closer to home. He said none of them.

He didn’t have to. The girls surged forward, arguing the point for him – good for them, and did he need to take note of their names to hand over to Lady P? – and he took the chance to crouch down and assess Scott’s condition.

His brother had managed to drag himself up onto his elbows, one hand holding his head, and there was a scowl on his face. Blue eyes were dilated and a little unfocused, although how much of that was the alcohol as opposed to the knock, Gordon wasn’t entirely certain.

“You good to stand up?” he asked, gently touching where Scott was holding his head. The dazed blue eyes blinked at him for a second, and his brother grimaced but tried to move. Gordon caught him when he swayed, wedging himself under one arm and dragging Scott’s arm around his neck for support, wrapping a firm arm of his own around his brother’s waist.

Dennis from pool came over, clearly offering help, but Gordon waved him off with a smile that was probably more strained than he’d planned.

“I got him,” he said. “If you want to help, make sure that bastard doesn’t get another hit in.” He didn’t want trouble – this was supposed to be a relaxing downtime, dammit all – he just wanted to get Scott somewhere safe so he could check him over properly. Luckily, the man got the message and moved to stand so that he was blocking Stool-Bastard’s view of them, leaving Gordon to haul his brother out the door.

No-one else stopped him, and with a few stumbles – Scott was heavy, okay? – he got them over to a nearby bench, which Scott sank onto bonelessly. Gordon shot a quick message to Parker to come get them – fun night out was over – before turning his attention to Scott.

“You with me?” he asked, keeping an arm around his shoulders and peering at the shock of brown hair resting on his shoulder. “Scott?”

“M’fcker,” his brother slurred, sounding vaguely annoyed. He didn’t move, though, seemingly content to remain slumped against Gordon’s side and trust him to hold him up. It was just un-Scott-like enough for him to be a little worried, but he had also been drinking and he wasn’t entirely sure how much Scott had had. Nor had he actually ever seen Scott drunk before – at least, not without the buffer of Virgil and/or John to handle him. He vaguely recalled something about him being an affectionate drunk, though, so with any luck that was all that was.

Still, he ran his free hand through gelled hair, gently probing for signs of injury. Scott hissed when he reached the back of his head, where he’d seen the blow land, and Gordon explored the area lightly with his fingers. It didn’t seem like it was a bad knock – certainly not as bad as it could have been, and he was starting to realise it had actually only been a glancing blow rather than the square hit he’d initially thought – but it could definitely do with some ice and painkillers, and he was pretty certain there was a minor concussion in there, too.

No amount of alcohol explained Scott’s suddenly quiet and slightly lethargic attitude, when Gordon knew he’d been laughing and flirting right before the attack. Virgil was going to be so pleased.

“Hey,” he tried again, poking his cheek when he didn’t get an instant response. “Talk to me, Scott. What happened back there?”

Scott groaned at him and buried his face further into his neck in an additional show of drunk and concussed. “D’nno,” he muttered. Gordon felt more than heard the words. “M’fcker came’p ‘hind me ‘nd yelled sommat ‘bouta girl. D’nno what. Then th’bast’d hit me.”

A very small part of Gordon was amused at the filterless language. He knew Scott knew how to cuss – he’d Served, the same as he had – but Big Brother also had a very strong grip on his language around family. To hear what was no doubt a throwback to the Air Force days was quietly satisfying. However, most of Gordon was a combination of furious and worried, in approximately equal measures. Maybe a little more worried than furious, but there was a large part of him that really wanted to show the guy why you never messed with a Tracy.

Fortunately for his PR, Scott needed him here, not embroiled in a fight or spending the night in a lockup, so he swallowed down the rage and pulled his brother a little bit closer.

“Anything hurt except your head?” he asked, brushing his fingers through his hair again. Scott shook his head then groaned.

“’m fine,” he claimed, still not lifting his head from where it was buried in Gordon’s neck. “St’p fussin’.”

“I’ll stop fussing once we’re back at the manor and your head’s been looked at properly,” Gordon countered, to another groan. “How much did you drink?”

“Was’nly weak sh’t,” Scott told him. “Few p’ntsa cid’r.” Enough to get buzzed but not enough to get blindly drunk, then.

A breeze blew past them, reminding Gordon that London was in England and therefore cold. Scott shivered just a bit – not enough to be noticed if he wasn’t plastered against Gordon’s side – and he tightened his grip again. Neither of them were dressed for the night air, not with the original plan being for them to remain inside the pub until Parker arrived, and the thin jacket Gordon did have on wouldn’t fit his brother, even if he could peel him off long enough to shuck it.

“Not the best end to an evening,” he mused instead, rubbing at the denim jacket Scott had on in a vain attempt to give him a little more warmth.

“C’n say thattag’n,” Scott agreed, burrowing into his side even more. Gordon assumed he was trying to leech body heat. “S’posed t’be fun.”

“Well we’ve got all of tomorrow to lounge around the manor,” Gordon reminded him, spying a flash of pink approaching at speed. “You know that’ll be fun.”

“W’th this h’ngov’r?” Scott complained. Gordon winced – he had a point.

“It’ll be fine,” he promised, letting go of his brother with one hand to flag Parker down. “Water and painkillers and you’ll be good as new.” Depending on the severity of the concussion, that might be stretching it a bit. Scott was definitely going to be off duty for more than another day, though.

FAB1 pulled to a stop next to them and Parker jumped out, eyes sharp and alert as he took in their condition.

“Trouble, sirs?”

“Someone took a swing at Scott with a bar stool,” Gordon admitted, prodding his brother. Parker’s eyes narrowed and he suspected Stool-Bastard might find his own brand of trouble later, once Parker was convinced they were safe. The man seemed to have a soft spot for Scott – hell knew he didn’t have one for Gordon, despite his best efforts to the contrary. “C’mon, Scott. Let’s get you in the car.” His brother groaned but at least made a token effort to stand up, freeing Gordon long enough for him to get to his own feet and haul Scott up. Parker slid around to Scott’s other side without waiting to be asked, and between them they helped him stagger into the back seat, where he promptly slumped again. Gordon slid in beside him and was immediately reclaimed as a pillow, which he resisted long enough to make sure they were both strapped in before allowing Scott to bury his head in his neck again.

“’Ow ‘is ‘e?” Parker asked as he slipped back into the driver’s seat and pulled away from the curb. Gordon caught sight of him looking at them in the rear view mirror and offered a tight grin.

“Minor concussion,” he answered, running his hand through Scott’s hair again, to a quiet noise that could have been either complaint or contentment. “He also drunk enough to get buzzed, so I’m not entirely sure how much of this-” he shrugged at the big brother draped against him “-is that.”

“Hmm.” Parker sounded unconvinced, but did at least return his attention to the road.

Gordon glanced down at his brother and poked him lightly.

“You’d better not be falling asleep on me, Scott,” he warned.

“’M n’t,” came the muffled response. “W’k m’up wh’n we g’t therr.”

“Scott, no,” Gordon scolded, shrugging his shoulder and forcibly peeling his brother off of him. “You’re concussed. Don’t sleep.”

The baleful glare he got was pretty pathetic, on the Scott scale, but his brother huffed in defeat.

“F’n,” he grumbled. Gordon caught his head when he attempted to bury it in his neck – again – and guided it to rest normally on his shoulder.

“We’ll have a proper look at the manor,” he promised. “Then you can rest.”

Scott huffed, but didn’t close his eyes again. He did, however, wrap an arm around Gordon in a tight grip, which he returned in kind.

“Are you always this cuddly when you’re drunk?” he asked. The grumble he got wasn’t a coherent answer, but the way Scott purposefully looked away was. Gordon laughed. “That explains why you don’t go out drinking with us much. Do any of the others know this?”

“Shuddup,” Scott grumped. It was a shame he was also concussed, otherwise the blackmail would have been glorious.

Aw, who was he kidding. As soon as Scott came out the other side clear, it was totally acceptable blackmail. For now, though, he was content to hold onto his brother while Parker drove them back to the manor, more than a little relieved it hadn’t been worse.

So much for a relaxing night out with his brother.

#fluffember #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #gordon tracy #scott tracy #aloysius parker #thunderfluff

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that-yandere-life · 5 years ago

Note

I see you have Peter B Parker already, but can you do MCU Peter (aged up of course) for the alphabet? Thank you 🥰

[Thank you so much for helping me celebrate! Like you said above, Peter is always over 18 in my fics. I hope that you enjoy, and that it is what you have been waiting for!]

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Peter is the sweetest lover you could ever hope for, inside and outside of the bedroom. Prepare to have your every need tended to the moment you vocalize your request. Overly pampers you wanting to treat you like the Queen he sees you as.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Favorite body part of his: His abs, because not only do you enjoy looking at him naked… it means he has the core strength to accomplish any position you would ever want to try. So often when the two of you are home he is without a shirt for your pleasure and his own ;)

Favorite part of yours: Your back/shoulders, loving to see your muscles tense as he fucks you better than anyone you have ever been with. Indulging in the sound of it hitting the wall or the mattress as he playfully tosses you onto it. Feeling them move as he holds you close, thrusting into you over and over again.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Peter is a yandere sure, but he is a gentleman first and foremost. Would ideally like to cum inside of you, but would want your consent before doing so. If you were uncomfortable he would find out what you would be okay with and go from there.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Steals your underwear all the time, even before the two of you started dating he did so. They would randomly turn up washed and folded on your bed, confusing the hell out of you as you didn’t put two and two together.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Limited experience, but has had plenty of pointers from Tony to expand his knowledge of the human anatomy. ;) Not to mention he is a frequent porn viewer so he will have some ideas for what he wants to try with you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

The Ballet Dancer, which consists of the two of you standing facing each other, one of your legs up and wrapped around his waist with his hand under your knee to give you extra support. While your other foot is on the ground, and his other arm supporting your back. A position that ends up working really well in the shower coincidentally. ;)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Peter can be serious if the moment allows it, but mostly he is just an easy going guy. That being said he isn’t ashamed if funny or awkward things happen during sex, he will just make light of the situation. Happy that he is able to be himself with you even during the most intimate of acts.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Will be trimmed consistently, he is rather self conscious still about his appearance translating to down there care as well. Always careful to practice good hygiene as you never know when the mood might strike you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Hopeless romantic, is the most accurate description for Peter. Even your more passionate, lustful, and fun sex sessions are filled with love sprinkled in wherever he can fit it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Of course he used to jack off all the time, whenever he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus, was bored… It didn’t matter to him, although now he doesn’t really have to as you both have a healthy sex life with each other. That’s not to say he doesn’t take things into his own hands if you aren’t in the mood.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Bondage, let that man use his webs on you to tie you to the bed before he has his way with you. Trust that it will be the most intimate and pleasure filled experience of your life, one that will have you thinking about it years later.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Shower, honestly what he loves about it is, it starts off innocent most of the time. Just wanting the closeness of showering with each other after a long day. Slowly growing more intimate as he washes your hair for you so lovingly. Naturally slipping into a heated and utterly passionate moment where neither of you can hold back long enough to get out and dry off.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you tease him, whether it is just for being silly, or if it is roasting him in a loving way. Maybe innocently making him jealous, or intentionally making him jealous.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Most things he would try, but nothing that could possibly end in death or serious injury. Open minded about pretty much anything you would want to attempt with him. Having some ideas of his own at the same time.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

LOVES to receive, to him it is one of the most intimate positions you can do with your partner. Which Peter values intimacy, it’s his love language, one he only wants to speak with you. Of course he returns the favor as he is not an animal, he is rather skilled at it as an added bonus.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

A mixture, usually during the same session, able to work a combo that will have you cumming around him over and over again. Sometimes however if he has had a particularly rough day, he will just go slow and deliberate needing to fuck his feelings out of him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If you are down, he will find a place to go no questions asked. It doesn’t matter how long you have, or what the occasion he will excuse you both immediately.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Peter take risks? It’s almost like he spends his entire life taking risks, do you really think that you can escape that chaos? Expect to try so many different things you never would have thought of attempting before you met him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go as long as you will allow, days even, with hardly any rest needed in between rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Likely has a few fleshlights he used in his college dorm back when he didn’t have you, and now that he does he will put on a show for you if you ask. Very into mutual masturbation with you, watching as you both make yourselves fall apart in front of the other. Would also be willing to buy any number of products to use with you or on you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Peter can tease, but it’s not extremely common for him to do so. Only when he feels like he hasn’t had enough of your attention lately. However you teasing him, is 100% allowed, in fact it’s what turns him on the most.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Surprisingly pretty vocal, dirty talk, praising, punishing if you are into that kind of play. Smacking your ass, making the slapping sounds echo throughout the room. Grunting, groaning, moaning, and finally a low shout as he cums.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

While he does steal your underwear for his own purposes, sometimes he likes to wear them under his normal clothing. It makes him feel connected to you, because you had once worn them in the same fashion.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Long length, like packing heat my dudes, and average thickness. The kind of cock where you actually don’t know how it’s going to fit.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high, wanting to constantly be physically intimate with you. It's a time where it’s only the two of you, taking in the moments as they happen.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Only after he makes sure that you fall asleep, he doesn’t want to leave you alone if you can’t sleep. Taking care of your every need before allowing himself to drift off beside you.

#yandere marvel #marvel yandere #peter parker x reader #yandere peter parker #yandere spiderman #Anonymous

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searchingforstarss · 5 years ago

Text

you held your pride like you should have held me

by @searchingforstarss for @irondad-is-cannon-bitch, written for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange - i took your argument prompt, added in a little whump and here we are! i hope you enjoy this <3

rating: teen

relationships: peter parker & tony stark, peter parker & tony stark & james rhodes

characters: peter parker, tony stark, james rhodes, bruce banner

summary: “I had to take the risk!” Peter snaps. “I saved your life.”

Tony’s stare hardens. “Yeah, and nearly ended your goddamn own. This isn’t a trade-off. It wasn’t your call to make.”

You would have done the same thing to protect me,” Peter points out. Tony just seethes at the statement.

“I don’t care about what you think I would have done. You are not me. And I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself."

or, as the timer ticked down, Peter knew his only option was to take things into his own hands. He just didn’t expect Tony to be mad at him for saving his life.

read on ao3

“What’s our game plan for tonight?”

“Our what?”

“Our game plan.”

“Kid, I don’t think I’ve ever had a game plan in my life,” Tony says as he tips blueberries into the blender. “I kind of just… do.”

He looks up towards where Peter is perched on the benchtop, letting himself be distracted for a moment. Almost the entire punnet of blueberries ends up in the blender and he curses, reaching in to scoop a handful back out.

“I was talking to FRIDAY earlier-”

“Oh, were you now?”

Peter nods his head, completely ignoring Tony’s snark. He’s learned to let it all roll off his back by now. “Yeah, she was telling me all about the guys we’re going after and well, I was thinking that since I’ve seen Chitauri tech up close and all - not that you haven’t, with the whole New York thing-” Peter cuts his ramblings off, stopping short when he realises that was probably the wrong thing to bring up. Tony’s leaning up against the bench, watching him carefully. His face remains carefully schooled, but Peter’s quick enough to catch the slight wince that flashes across his face for a second. The two of them don’t really talk about New York. That day was distressing enough for Peter, being separated from May and Ben in the midst of the panic, let alone for Tony who flew a literal nuke through a hole in space. “I, uh, anyway,” Peter resumes awkwardly, “what I mean is since I’ve seen what they do with the weapons, surely that means I should go in first and scope out the-”

Tony turns around. “No.”

Before Peter can open his mouth to speak again, Tony switches the blender on, the room filling with noise.

Okay. Rude.

“What do you mean, no?” Peter asks as soon as Tony turns the blender off again. Tony turns to him, a tired expression settled into the lines on his face like he’s been expecting this argument.

“When I said you could come along, I meant to get a feel for what’s going on. Get a little bit of field experience under your belt. But from a distance. I don’t want you in the middle of anything.”

Peter tries to school his features into a neutral expression and not let them fall into the petulant frown he can feel coming on. “How is it field experience if I’m stuck outside the whole time?”

Tony’s been hesitant about letting Peter come along on these types of things, so when he finally agreed to let Peter tag along with him and Rhodey to bust an illegal Chitauri weapons ring, this wasn’t exactly what he was expecting. He can be useful, he knows he can - especially since he’s seen these weapons up close, he knows what they can do.

“You gotta learn teamwork, kid. We always need someone out there watching our six.”

Tony turns to get a couple of glasses out of the cabinet above him. Peter slips off the counter and steps closer to him. “But I can do more than that! I'm practically an Avenger!”

“An honorary one at most, maybe. More like the team mascot.”

Peter frowns. “You did offer me a place on the team, you know, just in case you forgot.”

Tony tenses almost imperceptibly. “Yes, we are forgetting. That was irresponsible of me and I’ve since retracted said offer. My terms are that once you finish high school, then we’ll talk Avengers. You know this, Pete.”

Peter sighs. He knows that Tony worries. The older man is still meticulous about making sure he picks up Peter’s every phone call and insisting that he pops into the tower to check-in after each patrol (okay, maybe that one only came about after Peter tried to hide a broken arm for a couple of days but he really did have it all handled), even though it’s almost been a year since Toomes.

They’re closer now. Peter always thought the closer they got the more trust Tony would have in him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not qualified to save the world until high school has provided me with the necessary skills, like reciting the entirety of Shakespeare’s discography and knowing how to list everything in my backpack in Spanish, got it,” Peter grumbles.

“Did you just refer to Shakespeare’s plays as his discography?” Tony looks incredulous, his eyes widening almost comically, but Peter just groans again, tipping his head back in frustration.

“Of course that’s all you got from that. I was trying to show you that high school is pointless in the grand scheme of things, Mister Stark. I could be useful! You know I could.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Pete. You finish school, get the piece of paper and let me take at least a dozen photos of you wearing one of those stupid-looking graduation caps. That’s my price for putting in a good word for you with the Avengers.”

“You basically are the Avengers.”

“I’m sure the others would be very offended to hear you say that.”

Peter shrugs, unbothered. Tony takes a moment to turn around and divide the smoothie up between the two glasses before speaking again. “Look, I’m going to be totally honest with you right now, okay Pete? This is something that Rhodey and I are doing for SHIELD, and-”

“You can’t not let me come,” Peter interjects. It’s taken him months of wheedling to convince Tony that he’s finally ready for the big stuff. Peter twists a few fingers into the fabric of his hoodie, suddenly nervous that Tony might change his mind completely.

Tony sighs. “I’m not going back on my word. I just don’t want you involved with SHIELD before you have to be. Which means for a little while, you’ve just gotta lay low and watch and learn. I need you to trust me on this one.”

Peter knows that it’s time to drop it as soon as he sees the pleading look on Tony’s face - pleading with Peter to just listen to him. He gives Tony a small smile. Tonight, he’ll just have to try and show Tony that he can be useful. That he can listen to directions. That he’s worth keeping around.

“Plus, if I let you get hurt May will probably kick my ass all the way from, where is she with her college buddies this weekend? Ohio?”

“Oregon, Mister Stark,” Peter corrects.

“Exactly. That’s what I meant. Now drink up,” Tony says, pressing a smoothie into Peter’s hands. All the purple from the blueberries has been lost in amongst the green from the spinach and kale that Tony undoubtedly shoved in there when Peter wasn’t looking. It’s disappointingly healthy-looking. “Oh, don’t look at it like that,” Tony chastises good-naturedly. “You need your energy for tonight.”

“I’m not even doing anything but sitting there.”

“You’re gonna keep an eye out. That’s an important job, kiddo. Real high stakes.”

“Oh, sure.”

“Just count your blessings it’s not a school night, otherwise your ass would be doing nothing apart from sitting at home.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re the lamest person on the planet?”

---

“And you’re both totally sure you don’t want me to come in with you?”

Tony shoots Peter a sharp glance. Peter thinks he hears Rhodey stifling a laugh.

“We’re sure,” Tony says firmly.

Night has fallen to give them a cover of darkness as they stand in front of the warehouse. In Peter’s opinion, he’s not sure it looks particularly like a dangerous criminal hideout. This whole place looks like nothing more than a regular old warehouse district, the type that you would never look twice at when driving by on the highway.

“We shouldn’t be any longer than half an hour, kid,” Tony promises. He eyes the run-down looking side door they’re standing in front of. “All we have to do is get the weapons out of here, and I don’t think we have a whole lot of security to contend with.”

As if proving his point, he takes aim at the rusty lock and chain over the door and blasts it with his repulsor. The whole thing unravels and falls to the ground with a dull clunk.

“I was right. As usual.”

Rhodey rolls his eyes, but his military instincts keep his eyes trained firmly on the door, watching in case something - or rather, someone - that they’re not expecting comes to greet them. Tony, on the other hand, is much more relaxed.

He turns to face Peter, “You know what to do?” he asks.

“Yep. Watch the perimeter. Tell you straight away if I see anything sketchy,” Peter answers, repeating what Tony drilled into him on the way here.

“And?” Tony prompts. Peter groans.

“Stay out of trouble.”

“That’s right,” Tony nods, satisfied. “We’ll see you soon.”

“Be careful,” Peter says after them, “and good luck!”

Tony shoots him a cocky grin. “Always, kid. And keep your luck, I don’t need it. Never have. I’m Tony St-”

“Get your ass in here, Tony,” Rhodey calls over his shoulder, voice echoing from where he’s already disappeared into the warehouse. Tony’s smile widens and he turns away from Peter, ducking through the doorway.

Peter watches them as they disappear into the darkness of the building. The door creaks shut slowly behind them, and for a split second, he considers following after them. They won’t notice, especially if he’s as quiet as possible. Plus, if he manages to take down a few of the arms dealers then Tony could never be mad at him for not listening. It would be awesome.

He lets himself revel in the glory of his daydream for a moment longer before he shakes himself out of it. He’s being stupid. He knows what his mission is. It’s to keep watch - nothing else.

He shoots a web up towards the roof of the building before he can change his mind and swings himself up.

---

Peter tries his hardest to patrol diligently for the first thirty minutes.

He paces the roof back and forth, watching out for any suspicious activity, but the warehouse district remains empty. The most exciting thing he sees is a racoon walking along the fence line. He jumps to alert at one point as a metallic sound catches in the wind and echoes through the night, but it just turns out to be a stray soda can being blown across the concrete.

A small part of him almost hopes that a nefarious looking figure slinks out of the shadows and tries to take their raid down just so that he can do something. How is he ever going to impress Tony if all he can say he’s done is hang out on a rooftop and watch cars go past on the Long Island Expressway?

---

After forty-five minutes, it all starts to get a bit dull. He’s not sure what’s taking Tony and Rhodey so long.

He tried to count the cars whizzing by on the expressway briefly, but all the bright lights gave him a headache after a while. He practised a few of the new web-shooter combinations that he and Tony dreamt up last week, and then once there’s webbing sprayed across a section of the roof he spends a good ten minutes with solvent trying to dissolve it all just to give him something else to do.

Now, he’s resorted to having Karen help him practice for his Spanish quiz on Friday just to pass the time.

“How would you describe your family, Peter?” Karen asks him. Peter kicks at a bit of gravel mindlessly as he walks along the roofline, thinking.

“Uh,” Peter pauses, “Mi familia es pequeña. Mi tia se llama May. Mi tía es muy… amable? La quiero mucho.”

“That’s right, Peter,” Karen praises, but he’s startled out of his practice by his comms crackling to life in his ear for the first time tonight.

“Peter?” It’s not just Tony checking in like Peter guessed it might be, but Rhodey instead. His voice is tense and Peter’s on alert immediately. “Come in, Peter. Are you still outside? We-”

“Of course I’m still here, ” Peter rushes out, almost offended that they thought he might ditch. “I’m on the roof. What’s happening?”

“We need you to get down here.”

Peter pauses. Is this a trick? Some kind of test? They told him to stay out here, to keep watch. But Tony wouldn’t do this to him, surely?

“But, Mister Stark said-”

“Tony is not in a position to be calling the shots right now,” Rhodey says firmly.

“Is he-”

“Peter. Please,” Rhodey says, more steel in his voice than Peter has ever heard from the man. “Just get in here.”

Okay. No more questions.

He can do that.

“Got it.”

Peter vaults off the roof, jogging around to where he vaguely remembers the entrance being. Anxiety buzzes through him. Tony is not in a position to be calling the shots right now. What does that even mean? Peter’s brain runs away from him before he can help it. What if Tony’s been hurt? Images of him lying on the ground, bleeding and broken, flash through his mind but he tries to shove them down as he heads inside.

The warehouse is just a series of vast empty rooms, high ceiling and rickety walls which don’t look very structurally sound. Peter makes his way through a few of them, each one just as deserted as the last. He can hear hushed voices though, Tony and Rhodey, so he follows the sound.

They’re arguing, Peter realises when he steps into the room. They’re backed into a corner, neither of them looking in his direction. Rhodey’s back is turned and Peter can only just catch a glimpse of Tony from over his shoulder. He looks like he’s standing upright, which instantly lays some of Peter’s anxieties to rest.

“I’ll burn you if I repulsor it off,” Rhodey hisses. “Just wait for Peter to get here.”

“Oh, don’t get me started on that. Peter shouldn’t even be here in the first place, you know he’s safer outside where-”

“He was on the roof, Tony. He would have been just as screwed as you and me.”

“Uh, hey, guys?” Peter says cautiously. As he makes his presence known, he sees Tony’s eyes whip up towards him, face paling significantly at the sight of him. “What’s going on?”

Peter isn’t exactly sure what he was expecting to find when he was called in - but as Rhodey sidesteps slightly, finally giving Peter a proper view of Tony, he realises it definitely wasn’t the Iron Man suit in a heap of metal on the floor, and Tony handcuffed to a drainpipe.

What the fuck?

He hurries over to their sides, trying not to feel sick at the sight of the thick metal clamped around Tony’s left wrist. He can’t stop staring at it though. For someone who apparently never needs a game plan, Peter’s pretty sure this wasn’t how Tony intended the night to go.

“How did this happen?” Peter blurts out before he can stop himself.

“That’s not important right now. You can’t be here.” Tony turns to Rhodey. “I told you, he can’t be here. I need you out of here, Peter, please.” The panic in Tony’s voice sends an uncomfortable shiver down Peter’s spine, despite how dramatic it feels. He’s not that incapable - he’ll be fine.

“Is anyone still here? Do you need me to go after anyone? Who chained you up? How did they even do that to the suit? What-”

“Peter,” Tony cuts him off sharply.

“You can't just expect me to walk in here and be totally cool with the fact that the suit is smashed up and you're chained to a wall,” Peter stresses, voice pitching slightly higher with confusion and maybe just a little bit of hysteria.

Tony huffs out a frustrated sigh. “Look, there a few of the guys running this place were still hanging around when we got in here. I split off from Rhodey and they caught up with me before I could even get a goddamn look at what sort of operation they’ve got going on. They told me to get out of the suit-”

“And you did?” Peter interrupts Tony incredulously, looking towards Tony. He never parts with his suits on missions like these, never.

“They had weapons - all their Chitauri shit would have fried the suit in a second - in fact it did,” Tony snaps, gesturing with his single unchained hand to the pile of charred metal. “It’s not exactly like I had a choice. And then they chained me up here while they made a getaway with all the illegal weapons we were supposed to be getting out of their hands.” Tony’s face crumples into one of defeat. “There you go. You’ve had your story. It's time for you to run along and put yourself to bed. Rhodey and I have got this handled, trust me.”

“Yeah, except you left out the part about the present our charming friends left us,” Rhodey deadpans. “We’re wasting time here, Tony. We just need Peter to give it a crack and then we’re out of here.”

God, there are so many things for Peter to unpack right there in that sentence. He focuses on the first thing that caught his attention, that makes foreboding simmer in his gut. “A present?”

Peter follows Rhodey’s eyes towards the centre of the room, noticing something that he hadn’t seen when he first walked in. It looks like a hunk of metal at first glance, a mess of wires snaking across the surface. It’s emitting an uneasy blue glow with Peter instantly recognises as Chitauri, the timer strapped to it flashing in the same hue.

It’s a bomb.

Tony’s earlier panic suddenly seems a lot less like dramatics and more so grounded in a situation that, in Peter’s mind, has grown very serious very quickly. He watches the numbers tick down.

3:03… 3:02… 3:01

Three minutes.

“Can’t we just... move it?” Peter asks. The suggestion sounds sort of stupid even to him because surely that would have been the first thing they thought of - but three minutes is more than enough time to get it far away enough that when it detonates, none of them will be in the hot zone.

Rhodey shakes his head grimly. “There’s no way to tell whether it’s rigged to blow if it’s moved. It’s not worth the risk.”

“What do you need me to do then?” Peter asks, suddenly hyper-aware that their time is dwindling with every second that ticks by.

“He doesn’t need to do anything,” Tony growls. “I told you, just repulsor them.”

“I’ll burn your damn hand off, Tony. I’m not doing that.” Rhodey turns to address Peter. “We just need you to try and pull the cuffs off. I couldn’t get it, but with your strength, if you can get them off then we’ll all be home free.”

No pressure then.

“I do not need Peter’s help, I need him to get the hell out of here,” Tony repeats. He sounds more frantic now but Peter just ignores him. Tony’s insane if he thinks he’s going to leave him here, cuffed in a room with an active bomb.

“Tony, you’re literally chained to a drainpipe. I don’t think we have any other options,” Rhodey says, before addressing Pete

“So I’m just your last resort? Jeez, thanks for the confidence boost guys, means a lot,” Peter mutters, joke falling flat as he takes a few steps closer to Tony, Rhodey moving out of the way to let him. Up close, Tony doesn’t look too banged up, or like he even put up a fight at all. The only sign of struggle at all is a pale bruise, just beginning to bloom underneath his right eye.

Two minutes.

Peter wraps one hand around Tony’s wrist - stomach twisting at the sight of blood from how furiously he’s been trying to get himself free - and the other around the chain of the cuffs. Tony eyes him warily. The only thing Peter can hear from this close up is Tony’s unsteady heartbeat and erratic breathing.

He yanks at the chain not yet quite daring to use his full strength out of fear of hurting Tony. It’s not enough. The cuffs don’t budge.

Peter tightens his grip on the metal. He pulls again, harder this time.

Still nothing.

“Tell me if I hurt you, okay?” Peter instructs Tony.

“You hurting me is the least of my worries right now,” Tony forces out.

Gritting his teeth, Peter channels as much of his strength into his arms as he can and he pulls and pulls and pulls.

Nothing. The chains don't budge or give even just a little. Peter’s not strong enough.

The realisation hits him like a freight train. He can’t do it.

“Vibranium,” Tony mutters darkly, “of fucking course.” The only metal Peter wouldn't be able to pull apart with his bare hands. Tony yanks at the cuffs as Peter steps back, guilty, embarrassed. The chain rattles against the metal of the pipe, echoing around the room.

There’s silence for a moment.

The resolve on Tony’s face breaks. He looks defeated, shaking his head to himself. He knows what’s coming for him. “I need you two to go. Now. Please. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“We’re not leaving you.”

“Rhodey. James,” Tony’s voice is desperate now, pleading. “I need you to take Peter and go.”

The timer ticks over again.

One minute.

Peter makes a decision. The only one there is left to make.

Even in the suit, he knows that Rhodey can’t move as quickly as him, and Tony, well, he can’t move anywhere at the moment. It has to be him.

As Tony continues to plead with Rhodey, Peter makes a few tentative steps towards the device, holding his breath - Rhodey’s words echoing in his head. There’s no way to tell whether it’s rigged to blow if it’s moved.

Two more steps closer. The timer continues, numbers flashing threateningly up at Peter. Fifty-one seconds. Fifty-one seconds left of all the rest of their lives if he doesn’t act now.

Peter’s hands are shaking as painstakingly slowly, he leans down to place a hand on the outside of the device. It’s hot to the touch, but the timer just continues counting down. Nothing happens. Tentatively still, he scoops the device up towards his chest. It doesn’t explode.

He’s got a bomb in his arms. His heart thunders against his ribcage.

“Just shoot the cuffs with it, you complete-”

“Uh, I think I’ve got a better idea,” Peter offers, “turns out it doesn’t explode if you move it.” Both Tony and Rhodey’s eyes widen, turning towards him. “I’ll see you guys in a minute.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” Tony gasps. “Don’t you dare. Put that down. Right now.” His voice shakes with pure fear in a way that cuts right to Peter’s core. He yanks against the cuffs again, this time in Peter’s direction.

The metal of the bomb is growing hotter in Peter’s arms. He shakes his head.

“Peter,” Tony grits out, "no, no, no." He’s shaking uncontrollably now - whether from fear or anger, Peter’s not sure - as he turns to Rhodey. “What the fuck are you doing, just standing there? Get that thing off him.”

Forty seconds.

Peter’s eyes widen. Without a second more hesitation, he turns on his heel.

There’s an anguished yell from behind him, the distinct rattling of metal Peter’s gotten so used to over the past few minutes. He wants so desperately to turn around and tell Tony that it’s okay, that he knows what he’s doing, that he’s just trying to protect him.

But he doesn't have time.

He sprints.

Peter was always the slowest kid in class at elementary school. His asthma never helped - all the times that he was doubled up after running a couple of laps of the track didn’t exactly earn him many status points.

Since the bite, that’s never been a problem. Now Peter has to play down his abilities in gym class. He doesn’t play them down right now though. He can’t afford to. His legs move rapidly beneath him as he weaves through the rooms he distantly remembers coming through on his way in here, feet pounding against the concrete.

He’s outside now. Night air fills his lungs as he gasps for air, desperate for enough oxygen to sustain him at this pace.

He needs to keep going.

Warehouses, ones that he distantly hopes are unused, blur past him. He’s not far away enough yet. He knows what damage these weapons can do, he’s seen them with his own eyes. Tony isn’t in the suit. He doesn’t want him to be hurt.

He’s got to do this.

He doesn’t know how much damage this thing will do when it goes off. He needs to keep running. Peter pushes harder, further.

Twelve seconds.

He slams to a halt in the middle of what looks like an empty parking lot. Maybe companies used to keep trucks here. If they still do, they won’t for much longer anyway. Not as Peter lowers the bomb down onto the ground just as carefully as he picked it up. Six seconds flashes up at him.

He turns and runs.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

The countdown in Peter’s head finishes. He’s early. For a split second, there’s silence. Blissful silence.

Then, it's shattered by the inevitable arriving with a sharp bang from behind him, piercing through the night air. It’s a horrifying, deafening sound, one that’s punctuated with the sound of splintering metal shooting outwards through the air. The heat from the vivid orange flames that dart up into the sky engulfs him.

The force hits him not even a split-second later. It knocks all the air out of his lungs, throwing him through the air.

The warehouse he can see in the distance, hazy through all the smoke and debris, is still intact.

If Mister Stark is okay then all of this is worth it - he’d do it a million times over.

He’s unconscious before he can even hit the ground.

---

“-Peter? Kid? You have to hang on, buddy. You think you can do that for me?”

A voice. It floats vaguely around Peter’s periphery but his ears are ringing and he can’t work out what they’re saying. He thinks maybe he recognises the voice. He tries to turn himself towards it but his whole body screams in protest at the movement.

It hurts. Everywhere hurts.

“God. No, no, no, don’t do this to me. Peter. Peter. I need you to stay with me, please.”

The voice sounds upset. There’s a hand holding his. He thinks he can feel it but he can’t squeeze back. He doesn’t have control of his body.

He’s in pain.

Everything is on fire.

He doesn’t want to stay. Not here. He slips back into the darkness.

There’s no agony in the darkness.

---

Peter’s head is throbbing when he wakes again, every muscle in his body aching. He cracks his eyes open to try and figure out where he is, what’s happening, but the bright light that slips through his eyelids feels like it’s burning straight into his skull. He whines, burrowing into the pillows behind him as though that will allow him to escape it.

His head is pounding. Why is it pounding?

He lets his eyes slip shut again to alleviate some of the relentless pain and tries to sort through his muddled thoughts. He casts his mind back as far as he can.

The illegal weapons ring. The warehouse.

The drain pipe. The vibranium cuffs.

The decimated Iron Man suit.

The bomb.

Mister Stark.

Peter shoves himself upright suddenly, his ribs protesting and sending a sharp jolt of pain through his chest. Instinctively, he sucks in a gasp of air, but all that does is exacerbate the pain more. He’s hardly concentrating on that, though.

He’s in the MedBay, he realises. He recognises the white-washed rooms and sterile scent like the back of his hand by now.

Tony. He needs to find Tony.

His eyes dart around until they land on a blurry figure propped in a chair at his bedside. He blinks a few more times, his eyes finally adjusting to the light.

Relief. Some of Peter's panic eases. It’s Tony.

It’s not an uncommon sight, Tony at his bedside. It’s almost concerning, maybe, the fact that Peter wakes up in these situations so often that he’s no longer fazed by it. What is unusual is the fact that Tony isn’t looking at Peter. His eyes are glazed over slightly, focused down on where he’s picking at the corner of a stark white bandage on his wrist - his left wrist, the one that had been cuffed, Peter realises in his hazy mind. The image of Tony chained to that drain pipe, skin bloodied from the way he’d been yanking at those cuffs, works its way to the front of his mind and burns itself there.

“M’ster Stark?” Peter struggles to raise his voice to anything above a rasp. At the sound, Tony looks up, snapping out of whatever daze he was in. His expression is impassive, but there’s something brewing behind it that Peter can’t quite work out.

“You’re awake,” he says simply. There’s no fussing. No rearranging of the pillows, or gentle one-armed hugs or are you okay?’s

He just reaches for the call button on the bedside table instead.

Peter’s still struggling to connect himself with reality, but the feeling that something isn’t right floods through him. He’s slightly less blinded by the sharp ache of pain now, so when he Peter looks at Tony, he sees things he didn’t notice before. He sees how tightly hunched his shoulders are, the deep lines in his face - only exacerbated by the harsh overhead lighting, eyebrows furrowed, drawn into a scowl.

But he’s okay. He’s breathing.

He’s alive.

Peter opens his mouth to say something - what exactly, he’s not sure - but he’s cut off by a voice that disappointingly, isn’t Tony’s.

Peter and Tony glance up at the same time to see Bruce passing through the doorway and crossing the room to Peter’s bedside. “Good to see you awake, Peter.” Bruce places a gentle hand on Peter’s shoulder, and Peter realises that he’s still hovering at the same awkward angle he had been when he shot up to look for Tony. He lets Bruce push him back towards the pillows behind him. A tiny breath of relief puffs past his lips when the pressure is taken off his aching chest. “You gave all of us a pretty nasty scare.”

All of us. That must include Tony as well, who has returned to resolutely not looking at Peter.

“I, uh, I didn’t mean to,” Peter croaks out. His throat is horribly dry, but Bruce seems to be prepared because he pushes a glass of water into his hands. Peter grips it carefully, trying his best not to let his hands shake - with what he’s not sure. Anxiety? Pain? Leftover adrenaline? He tucks the straw in-between his lips and takes a sip just to try and alleviate some of the awkwardness he feels, not saying a word and pretending not to see the probing looks Bruce is sending Tony’s way.

“It’s okay. I’ve learnt to expect the unexpected when it comes to you, Peter,” Bruce tells him. Peter watches warily at the way Bruce’s eyes flit between him and Tony. He feels like there’s something unspoken going on that he hasn’t been let in on.

“How long have I been out for?” Peter asks, suddenly noticing the light filtering in through the darkened windows.

“About fourteen hours,” Bruce tells him. “It gave your healing a chance to give everything a good crack. It’s three-thirty on Saturday afternoon.”

Peter swallows. The last he remembers clearly is the panic etched so deeply onto Tony’s face as he sprinted from that warehouse, bomb cradled in his arms. Everything after that is a bit of a blur, a haze of freezing night air and the darkened sky above him and then fire, the reverberation of the bang, being tosses backwards like he weighed nothing - like he was nothing. That’s what people are to those kinds of weapons. Destructible. Nothing.

Peter couldn’t have let it go off anywhere near Tony. That was never even an option.

“Mister Stark, I really wasn’t trying to-”

Tony shakes his head, the movement sharp and jerky. “Just let Bruce do his job, Peter.” Peter barely recognises the tone. It’s not warm, or smooth and reassuring, the one that he’s gradually taken on as he spends more and more time at Peter’s side. This is cold and impersonal, the type of tone that makes a shiver run down Peter’s spine involuntarily. He hates it immediately.

Bruce shoots Tony a confused look, “It’s okay, I can focus just fine with you jabbering on. I’m used to dealing with the two of you.”

Tony doesn’t budge, just giving another shake of his head. “We’ll talk afterwards,” Tony says, letting himself sink back into the chair again instead of sitting ramrod straight. The movement is less relieved and more defeated. Exhausted. Worn down.

Bruce looks taken aback for a second before he regains his composure and focuses his attention back on Peter. “Are you in any pain?” he asks, feeling around Peter’s ribs. He’s gentle, but Peter flinches back anyway as he brushes over a particularly tender spot.

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter sees Tony’s eyes dart up to fix on him at the movement. Concern flashes across his face but it’s gone as quickly as it came. By the time Peter can turn his head to catch Tony’s eye properly, the man is staring out the window, stony expression set back in place.

The knot of discomfort in Peter’s stomach grows.

“I see your healing hasn’t quite gotten the whole way there yet,” Bruce hums. “You broke five of your ribs,” he explains when he sees Peter’s thinly-veiled quizzical look. “A few second-degree burns on your arms. You’ve got a pretty nasty head wound as well, but with a few stitches, it will be as good as new in no time. You’re lucky that’s all it is. It looks like you took a pretty big hit when you landed.”

Peter winces, noticing for the first time the thick white bandages covering his upper arms. He’s used to this, listening to Bruce reel off a laundry list of injuries that he’s had to tend to for him. But this seems bad - even for him. He reaches up for the back of his head, feeling around. His fingertips brush over the stitches and he hisses before Bruce can wrap a hand around his wrist gently to tug him away.

“Is it bad?” he mumbles.

Tony scoffs almost inaudibly at the question. Bruce just gives him a softened smile. “Nothing a few days in bed won’t let your healing take care of.”

“A few days? But I feel-”

“Don’t argue with him,” Tony mutters, speaking up again.

That’s more than enough to shut Peter up. He bites down on his bottom lip, chewing on it anxiously as Bruce bustles around Peter for a few more minutes. He gives Peter another dose of pain meds when even shifting against the pillows makes the angry aching in his ribs flare-up, makes sure that he’s got enough liquids to keep him hydrated and checks all of his vitals once more.

“Are you going to be okay if I leave you to it?” Bruce asks once he’s finished. He’s looking directly at Peter but before Peter can even open his mouth to answer, Tony nods stiffly. “We’re fine.”

Bruce glances back at Peter, conflicted, but Peter keeps his mouth shut. He needs to grow a pair and just explain himself to Tony.

As Bruce closes the door behind him, Peter realises all of a sudden that he actually would have quite liked Bruce to stay. Especially as Tony turns to him properly for the first time since Peter’s woken up. His face is still set firmly, emotionless, but there’s a new fury that’s been let loose, burning behind his eyes.

Peter can only hold eye-contact for a few moments before he ducks his eyes away. Neither of them speaks for a minute.

“Care to tell me what the hell you were thinking?” Tony asks lowly.

Peter looks up again cautiously. “The bomb... I, I had to get it out of there.”

“And you had to do that by running out of there with it like a football?”

“I didn’t mean to get hurt, or get in the way, I promise,” Peter rushes out quickly, trying to make Tony understand. “But you were stuck and that thing was going to go off and I know I’m faster than Rhodey in the suit, it had to be me, it had to.” Peter watches as Tony sucks in a sharp breath at his words. “I was just trying to be helpful.”

“Trying to be helpful?” Tony repeats incredulously. “Is it lost on you how completely reckless you were? I don’t give a damn about what you were trying to do, not when your own actions end with you in a hospital bed,” Tony growls. “Do you know that Rhodey had to be the one to come out and find you splayed out on the concrete like a fucking ragdoll after the bomb you were carrying imploded in your arms? Or that I had to sit there, holding your hand wondering if you were about to die on me in the back of a medevac, of all places? Does any of that even matter to you?” Tony stops and sighs, burying his head in his hands for the briefest of moments. Peter wonders what he’s trying to conceal. “God, Peter. I just wish you’d put the tiniest bit of value on your own fucking life for once.”

“Of course it matters. I care about my own life” - just maybe not more than yours. Maybe I’d rather die protecting you than live with the guilt of not being able to save you - “and I was careful, I promise.”

“I don’t care how careful you were, Peter. My problem is with the fact that you picked up the damn thing in the first place. It’s the first rule of bomb safety. You don’t touch it. Ever.”

“I was never taught bomb safety,” Peter mutters, for no real reason apart from the small spark of satisfaction of talking back. He can feel his hackles rising a little as he’s dismissed so carelessly. He was just trying to help. That thing would have blown Tony to pieces.

“You shouldn’t need a fucking SHIELD standard bomb safety course to know not to pick up an active bomb and run with it. What if the bomb had gone off when you picked it up, huh? How did you know that wasn’t going to happen? Then all of us would have been done for. Even if we’d somehow survived the blast, the building would have collapsed on us. Did you think of any of this?” Tony accuses as if he thinks that in that moment, Peter had room for any other thoughts in his mind apart from the constant chant of, keep Mister Stark safe, keep Mister Stark safe, keep Mister Stark safe.

“I had to take that risk!” Peter snaps, voice raised as he loses his cool slightly. “I saved your life.”

Tony’s stare hardens. “Yeah, and nearly ended your goddamn own. This isn’t a trade-off. It wasn’t your call to make.”

“You would have done the same thing to protect me,” Peter points out. Tony just seethes at the statement, shoving his chair out backwards to stand, suddenly towering taller over Peter.

“I don’t give a flying fuck about what you think I would have done. You are not me.” Tony paces, back and forth at the foot of Peter’s bed, releasing some sort of frustrated tension that’s emanating off of him. “I let you come along because I thought I could trust you to listen to me, Peter.”

I thought I could trust you.

The words hit Peter harder than anything else. Tony can trust him. He wasn’t purposefully trying to go against orders. He was trying to save his life.

“You would have died,” Peter says, the words soft as he struggles to force them out. All his anger has disappeared now, replaced with the memory of fear pulsing through him as he remembers what went down in the warehouse. Tony would without a doubt been blown apart if someone hadn’t gotten that bomb out of there. He really, really doesn’t want to think about that. “I don’t know what I would have done if you-”

Tony shakes his head, dismissing Peter’s weak attempt at building bridges between them before he could really even say what he needs to. The movement is sharp enough that Peter’s mouth snaps shut, words dying on his tongue.

“You’re a kid, Peter, Tony thunders, the word kid flying out of his mouth with more vitriol than Peter has ever heard it from him. He’s used to the word escaping Tony’s lips when they’re pulled in a warm smile, reserved just for him. It’s not like that today. It’s the furthest away it could possibly get. “I don’t need your help. I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself. I thought you’d be able to work that out for yourself but apparently I have to spell a few things out for you. You’re not an Avenger. I just want you to survive goddamn high school - and it seems like even that’s too much to ask of you.”

Peter can feel tears burning in his eyes but he blinks them away desperately, willing himself to not let them spill down his cheeks. He’s already being spoken to like a child, he doesn’t need to give Tony any more reason to believe that he’s nothing more than that.

“I think you’re being a bit harsh, Tony,” a new voice says firmly.

Tony, clearly having been so engrossed in his tirade, jerks around to face the door. Rhodey is standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest. Tony’s scowl just deepens.

“Shut it, Rhodes,” Tony snaps. “If he can handle a live bomb then I think he can handle hearing the truth.”

“You’re not going to do this. Not right now. Peter’s hurt.”

A ghost of something unreadable crosses Tony’s face. A tiny bit of the fight eeks out of his posture and his shoulders slump. His voice still has the same hard edge to it though, as he says, “I’m very aware of that, funnily enough.”

Rhodey steps forward and wraps a firm hand around Tony’s elbow, despite the protests, and all but hauls him from the room. He halts in the doorway and turns around for a second. Peter eyes him hesitantly. “It’s good to see you awake, Peter,” he says. It’s solemn but genuine.

Peter nods. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s run out of words. The two of them disappear out the door, leaving Peter alone.

Peter thinks he’d rather have just stayed asleep. At least this way the ache of his bones wouldn’t be competing with the void of regret growing inside of him.

He was just trying to protect Tony - but now all Tony sees him as is an incapable kid, and worse than that, someone that he can’t even trust.

---

The room stays empty all afternoon.

Maybe a little naively, Peter keeps waiting for Tony to reappear.

He doesn’t.

The closest he gets to any affection is from Bruce, who gives him a comforting squeeze on the shoulder as he ups his dose of painkillers before he goes to sleep.

Tony doesn’t come in to say goodnight either. FRIDAY tells him that Tony is still awake. She asks Peter if he’d like her to tell Tony that he’s asking for him.

Peter shakes his head, curling up under the blankets. “I, uh, no, no thank you, FRIDAY. I’m okay. Totally fine.”

He goes to sleep trying to believe his own words.

---

By the next morning, Peter’s head has stopped giving him grief completely, and according to Bruce, the stitches have dissolved. The burns are on their way to healing as well. The pain in his ribs is the only thing he’s really still contending with but he’s still not allowed to leave the MedBay.

Bruce hangs around for a while, listening to Peter’s weak arguments about how he feels great and how he’s sure that he’ll be totally fine if Bruce would just discharge him to go home. Tony must have told Bruce that May is away for the weekend because that particular request gets shot down extremely quickly.

After all, Peter knows Bruce doesn’t believe a single word that he’s saying, and isn't even considering his arguments for a second - but he’s indulging him anyway. It’s his way of keeping him company, at least for a little while, without making Peter feel pitied. It’s nice.

Especially since it’s the only human contact he gets for the morning - if you don’t count FRIDAY. He spends the rest of the morning scrolling aimlessly through his phone, chatting to her. Peter thinks maybe he can count her as human contact. She’s always felt real enough to him anyway, such a source of comfort in times like these that it almost feels like an insult to think of her as any less.

By the time the afternoon rolls around, Peter tells himself that he hasn’t just spent the entire morning tentatively hoping for a visit from Tony.

He was stupid to even think about it. Of course, he was never going to show. Peter learnt that yesterday.

---

A few hours later, as Peter’s making his way down his Instagram feed for what feels like the hundredth time today to try and keep his mind off everything, there’s a voice in the doorway.

“Hey, kid.”

Peter’s head shoots up at the familiar words, hope blooming in his chest for a moment before his eyes meet the person’s in the doorway. Rhodey. The hope withers and dies.

He forces his lips into what feels like the barest shadow of a smile. He doesn’t know why he thought it might be Tony. Of course it isn’t him.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Unlike yesterday, where he appeared briefly to all but haul Tony out of the room, Rhodey appears to be intent on staying this time. He crosses from the doorway to Peter’s bedside and sinks into the chair that Tony had been occupying yesterday.

“How’re you doing?” he asks once he’s settled, watching Peter carefully like he’s trying to pick up on any tells. Peter attempts a smile again. If this was Tony he might be worried about his poor acting skills giving him away, but it’s not. As much as he likes Rhodey, he doesn’t know him like Tony.

(Not many people know him like Tony.)

Peter shrugs. His ribs have been aching all morning and he’s got a splitting headache that just won’t leave. It’s probably too much phone time. Tony would tell him to put it away and let his eyes rest if he was here.

“M’fine.”

“Did you sleep okay?”

As Peter shrugs again in answer, Rhodey seems to cotton on to the fact that Peter doesn’t feel much like talking about his ailments, so he changes his tack. Peter’s grateful - it means he doesn’t have to think too much about his own issues. He’s sick of feeling sorry for himself.

So they talk about nothing for a little while. Rhodey’s last deployment that Peter hasn’t caught up on. How Peter’s doing at school. What he’s been working on in the lab.

But eventually, Peter just can’t help himself. He chews on his lip for a second, before he bites the bullet and just hopes the answer isn’t something that he doesn’t want to hear. “I, uh, do you think Mister Stark might come down today? I get he’s probably super busy and, y’know, mad at me, but I just thought… maybe...”

Peter knows what the answer is going to be as soon as Rhodey’s facial expression folds into one of distinct regret. “Tony’s a little busy today, Pete,” he says, before pausing. Peter can tell he’s thinking on his feet, trying to cover for his friend. Peter curls further into the blankets he’s lying under. “He had a few meetings come up. You know how it is.”

That’s exactly the problem. Peter does know how it is - and it’s not like this, whatever this is. Tony will drop anything business-related in a second to take care of the people he loves. That’s who he is, Peter’s discovered, after months of texts and dropping by and late nights in the lab, chipping away at his walls.

Peter doesn’t know which is worse. Tony telling Rhodey to lie to him about where he is, or Tony actually deciding that meetings are higher on his priority list than Peter as he lies alone in the MedBay.

He hates me. He hates me. He hates me.

Rhodey obviously sees the look on his face that Peter’s trying so hard to hide because he sighs. “I’m sorry, I’m sure he’d be down here as soon as possible if he could.”

Liar. He wouldn’t. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near me.

“He hates me now, doesn’t he?” Peter asks, voice small and resigned. He doesn’t want to hear the answer, not really. Not when he’s pretty much already accepted that he knows what it will be.

Rhodey’s eyes widen. He flounders for a second, looking lost. Peter’s once again reminded that he’s not Tony. Kid doesn’t sound the same when he says it. He doesn’t know how to settle Peter when anxiety wraps itself around his chest, all-consuming. He doesn’t know that a hand run through Peter’s hair will make him go soft and that if you scratch right behind his ear he’ll lean into the touch automatically.

Tony knows all these things.

“Absolutely not, he doesn’t hate you,” Rhodey says, finding his voice. “He’s just busy, I-”

“I know you’re bullshitting,” Peter mumbles. He knows it’s rude. He knows he shouldn’t talk like that to Rhodey - Rhodey’s just trying to help, he’s here, which is more than anyone else. But he’s tired and sore and frustrated and god, he just wants someone here to love him. “He hates me. He does. Otherwise he'd be here."

“Tony could never hate you, Peter,” Rhodey says. “I’ll talk to him, okay? He’s just having a tough time.”

"All I was trying to do was help. He didn’t have the suit. Otherwise, he was going to… he could have…” Peter trails off, the words lodging themselves in his throat.

Rhodey doesn't seem to have an answer for this. He knows as well as Peter does what would have happened if Peter hadn't gotten that bomb out of there. The two of them fall into quiet.

Even still, Rhodey doesn’t budge from his bedside for an hour or so after that. It’s company, it’s something, but it’s not the same.

Peter will take what he can get.

---

May phones that night when he’s alone, again. The room is swathed in darkness, lit only by the glow of the TV. There’s an old rerun of Jeopardy! playing that he isn’t watching.

Peter shifts in bed, trying to make himself more comfortable as he answers her call. His chest aches as he props himself further up the pillows. Bruce has told him it’s totally normal to expect some discomfort as they heal but it’s been getting steadily worse all throughout the afternoon - maybe speaking to Rhodey took it out of him more than he thought. In the back of his mind, he reminds himself to call Bruce down for another dose of painkillers before he goes to sleep tonight.

He has FRIDAY put May on speakerphone. This way, her voice echoes around the room, filling the empty space that’s been threatening to suffocate him all evening.

He tries to ask her how her trip is going, but apparently, she’s not so interested in pleasantries tonight.

“You want to tell me why I had to wait for a call from Colonel Rhodes to let me know that my nephew is in hospital?”

Peter swallows. “Technically it’s just the MedBay,” he offers weakly.

May makes a slightly unimpressed sound at his answer. “Peter,” she says, “I’m serious. You can’t just, not tell me these things.”

“I dunno,” Peter says, shrugging even though she can’t see him. “I was going to eventually, I promise.”

(He does know why he didn’t tell her. She’s having a nice getaway with her friends. She doesn’t get many of those, not with Peter around. He doesn’t want to get in anyone else's way this weekend.)

“Is Tony okay? I was so worried about you I didn’t even think to ask, which I feel terrible about but-”

“He’s fine,” Peter interjects. “Totally fine. It was, uh, mainly just me.”

“Is he with you? Can I speak to him?”

Peter casts an eye around the room, almost like he’s looking for the man that he knows isn’t here - it just feels like he should be. Peter lying in the MedBay alone feels wrong. “He’s not, actually. Not right now.”

“He has been though, right?” May asks, though there’s no worry in her tone. She says it like a given. Like there’s nowhere else Tony would be rather than at Peter’s side, especially when she can’t be there herself. She trusts Tony to look after him.

He wonders whether she would understand that Tony can’t stand to be around him if he told her what happened.

“Yeah, he has been…” he says, hoping the uncertainty in his voice doesn’t give him away.

“Good. I'm looking forward to seeing both of you. I’ve booked the first flight home, I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon.”

Peter shoots upright, ribs twinging. “No, no,” he rushes out, suddenly feeling extremely guilty. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh hush,” May tuts, “I want to, don’t be silly.”

Peter opens his mouth to refute her again but he finds that he can’t. He wants her here. Now more than ever.

May keeps talking and Peter lies back and closes his eyes. If he tries hard enough, he can almost pretend that he’s lying sprawled out on the couch back in their apartment and May’s just in the kitchen, somewhere nearby where she could step over and give him a hug as soon as he broke and admitted that, god, he really needs one right now.

Only almost, though. Because the room still smells sterile rather than of May’s favourite cedarwood reed diffuser and the sheets underneath him are soft, too soft, so unlike the worn, slightly scratchy fabric of their own couch.

He lets himself drift off pretending anyway, clinging to the daydream of comfort.

---

By the time Peter’s let May’s voice lull him into a deep sleep, he’s completely forgotten that he didn’t call Bruce in for any more painkillers.

---

It’s dark when Peter wakes next, and he can barely breathe.

He has no idea what the time is. He can barely remember where he is.

All he knows is pain.

It burns from deep inside his chest, emanating everywhere, cutting right down to his bones. His breathing is coming in heavy, painful pants and every gulp of air he sucks in sends a jolt of pain through his ribs. He doesn’t know what’s going on - he’s still stuck in a half-asleep daze but he feels like he’s dying.

It hurts. It hurts. Everything hurts.

He screws his eyes shut. It wasn’t like he was seeing much anyway, his vision blurred with tears and the room spinning dangerously around him.

Someone whimpers. It’s whiny sounding, like a wounded animal. Peter hates it. He tucks his knees to his chest - more pain - and buries his head in his knees to try and block out the sound. It doesn’t work.

A few minutes later, still curled up in the same cramped position, still lost inside his world of pain, Peter’s hazy mind comes to the conclusion that it’s him whimpering.

Pathetic. Pathetic.

He needs his pain meds. He needs something to numb this, to numb everything. In the back of his mind, he distantly remembers that he needed to ask Bruce for more. He doesn’t think he did. Or at least, he doesn’t remember the man ever coming to administer them.

It’s your own fault, Peter.

Something else to add to the list.

He twists in agony as another strike of pain hits, his ribs flaring up again. He could ask FRIDAY to get Bruce for him. He knows that she’d wake him up. But he doesn’t want to disturb him. If he needed his meds he should have remembered to ask at a reasonable hour.

You’re already in everyone’s way. Mister Stark hates you. Bruce has been having to deal with you all the time.

Stop being a baby.

Mister Stark doesn’t want a kid on the team.

Prove it to them. Show them that you can be strong.

He tucks his limbs closer to his chest, curling up tighter. Everything hurts, and he can feel tears starting to burn in his eyes. He feels a few hot tears drip down his cheeks before he can contain them and he shifts a hand up to wipe them away.

“F-FRIDAY?” Peter starts, quietly. He stumbles over the word, voice hitching.

“Yes, Peter?” FRIDAY replies. Her voice is soothing, and Peter wants to lean into its familiarity.

"I..." Peter falls silent. He doesn’t know what he’s asking. He just wants.

---

Peter's not sure how much time has passed when he hears footfall outside his door. He thinks maybe he’s imagining it. The pain is ebbing now, rising and falling like the tide, returning every so often just to crash over him and drown him in it.

The door creaks open, a sliver of light falling across the room. Peter’s breath chokes in his throat

I’m fine. I’m fine, I’m fine.

Don’t make a sound. Don’t be a bother.

Don’t get in the way.

“Peter?”

That’s his name, spoken in such an unsure way and shielded behind a cold demeanour. Peter immediately knows exactly who it is. His breathing ratchets up because oh god, it’s Tony and he sounds exactly the same way as he did last time they spoke. Peter’s meant to be showing that he’s strong, that he’s capable. And yet here he is hyperventilating and trembling in pain under the covers. He stays as still as he can, eyes screwed shut. Maybe if he lies here for long enough, Tony might leave.

He doesn’t want Tony to leave - not really. But there must be some mistake. Tony can’t mean to be here. If he meant to be here, surely he would have been a whole lot earlier.

“Do you need something? FRIDAY said you were in pain.”

Oh. He doesn’t even mean to be here. FRIDAY called him down. Peter doesn’t remember asking FRIDAY to fetch him.

“Peter?” Tony questions when he doesn’t reply, voice now less hostile and laced with confusion.

Peter doesn't know what he needs. But he knows he wants someone to stay.

“H’rts,” Peter mumbles before he can stop himself. “Please make it stop.”

And then before he can stop himself, he’s crying, embarrassing loud, ugly sobs because he’s so sore and so lonely and Tony is just there, only a few feet away and yet he feels so impossibly far away. He wants someone to hold his hand and push the strands of sweat-soaked hair off his forehead. He wants someone to tell him he’s going to be okay because right now all he knows is pain, burning through his veins, and he can’t see the way out.

He wants May. He wants Tony.

He wants someone to hold him.

Quiet footsteps tread towards his bedside. Peter doesn’t dare open his eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tony soothes, and the way he speaks so gently only makes Peter sob harder. It’s hard to breathe with the lump in his throat and crushing ache of his ribs. He gasps out without realising it, and then tries to quieten himself. Tony’s still there though. He hasn't left. Peter feels him lower a warm hand down onto his back, rubbing in circles gently.

“Shh. Breathe, Pete, you just gotta breathe. Do you think you could do that for me?”

Why is he being so nice? Suddenly, Peter wonders if he deserves it. He can’t even remember if he apologised to Tony.

“‘m sorry, I tried not to get in the way but it hurts,” Peter whines. He sounds pathetic but he can’t help it. “I can’t breathe. M’ster Stark, make it stop, make it stop, please.”

“You need to talk to me, buddy. What hurts?” Tony asks. His voice is quiet and reassuring. Peter likes this Tony better than angry Tony. He lets his eyes slip closed. “No, no, I need you to look at me. Just for a second, okay?”

Look at him? At Tony? Peter can do that, he thinks. He blinks his eyes open, eyelids heavy. He wants to close them again so badly, but Tony’s got this concerned look drawn all over his face while he’s looking at him, which Peter’s so confused about. The last time he saw Tony, the man had looked like he thought Peter was the worst person on the planet. Like he hated him.

Tony grabs the medicine chart off the clipboard above Peters’ bed and Peter watches through tear-blurred vision as he scans his eyes over it. “That'll do it. Your ribs are probably throwing a fit since you haven’t had any meds since midday, Pete, that was well over twelve hours ago” - Peter tries to do the math to figure out what time it is, what ungodly hour he’s dragged Tony out of bed to run around after his sorry ass, but his brain is too addled to figure it out - “didn’t Bruce dose you up before bed?” Tony asks. He knows the answer. He has the chart in front of him. Bruce is meticulous, he never forgets to tick these things off.

Peter gives a pitiful shake of his head, a barely noticeable movement. “M’fault. Didn’t ask.”

Tony sighs, biting down on his lip like he wants to get into it but he knows he can’t. Peter’s glad. He doesn’t have the energy for any of this. He feels like his brain is still trying to play catch up. Every time he blinks, Tony is still there when he opens his eyes, standing in front of him, concern pulling his face down in a frown.

“Well, I’m gonna dose you up now.”

“The good stuff?” Peter mumbles, turning his face into the pillow to try and hide a wince as another wave of pain arrives, lapping at his toes before surging forward to wash over him. Tony doesn’t miss it, and his movements grow hurried as he fumbles to pull out a dose of Peter’s pain meds.

His fingers are gentle as he takes Peter’s arm in his grip to keep it steady. Peter didn’t realise how badly he was still trembling - from the panic or pain he’s not sure. Tony slips the syringe into the IV catheter and plunges down slowly. Peter watches him lazily, eyes cracked open. He’s seen Tony do this so many times, hell, he’s even seen the man do it to himself. He trusts him.

“Yeah, bud, the real good stuff.”

The familiar sensation wraps Peter in its hold not long after. He lets his eyes flutter closed, but tries to blink them open again when he hears a voice above him. “Yeah, there we go… no, shhh, close your eyes.”

Peter does as he’s told because the voice is gentle and he trusts it. He doesn’t think it would lead him astray.

“There we go. Nice work, kiddo.”

The room floats away, but there’s a pressure against his scalp, a hand running through his hair, grounding him to reality. It’s nice. A much nicer reality than the one he was trapped before. That seems like such a long time ago. Maybe Peter dreamt it?

“‘m sorry I didn’t listen,” Peter mumbles out. He turns, pressing his face into the palm of Tony’s hand like a starved animal seeking out the barest scraps of physical attention. Tony curls his fingers gently, blunt nails scratching against the tufts of hair around Peter’s ear.

“You’re okay, bud, you’re okay. We can talk later when you’re not so loopy. Just try and get some sleep.”

Talk… later? What if Tony leaves again? What if there is no later? Peter wants to talk now. Ben always used to tell him that you should never go to bed angry and he and Tony have broken that rule the last two nights now - he doesn’t want to do it again. But whenever he tries to open his mouth, his tongue feels too heavy to force out any of the right words.

“Sleep?” Peter slurs out quietly.

Tony nods. “Yeah, all you need right now is a good night’s sleep. I’ll be right here in the morning,” he says, words soft and genuine. Peter believes them - but he makes sure anyway.

“Right h’re?”

Tony nods again, settling further into the chair he’s sitting in as if to physically demonstrate to Peter exactly what he’s saying. “I promise.”

That’s good enough for Peter. Sleep does sound pretty good, on second thought. There’s a floaty feeling flowing through Peter now, dissipating the pain. He’s comfy, and the weight of Tony’s hand against his cheek where he’s still scratching at his hair feels so nice. He rolls over, trapping Tony’s hand there between the pillow and his cheek. He can’t leave now, even if he wants to.

---

Hours later, Peter only remembers a few things from the night before when he surfaces from his sleep, memories blurring together in the back of his mind.

Burning pain and then nothing. Someone by his bedside maybe? A hand in his hair. A quiet voice.

Close your eyes, you’re okay.

Peter knows that voice. It sounds so achingly familiar, even as it echoes through his thoughts.

You’re okay, buddy. You’re okay.

Peter rolls over onto his side at the sound of an exhale from beside him, the smallest of yawns like someone trying their best to be quiet. It’s Tony, he realises, the comforting words whispering through his mind suddenly making much more sense. He clearly managed to get his hand free from underneath Peter’s cheek last night but he’s still here anyway, in the chair by his bedside, the one that’s remained largely unoccupied over the last couple of days. He’s dressed in an old t-shirt and faded jeans - Peter dreads to think what important lab work he pulled the man away from last night.

“Hey, bud” Tony mumbles. His voice is rough with sleep and he stretches his arms out above his head, poorly hiding a wince as he does.

A rush of shame floods Peter almost immediately. He can’t believe that Tony had to spend the night down here last night just because he kicked up a fuss about a little bit of pain.

He stares stupidly for a moment, willing the words to work their way out of his exhausted brain but he doesn’t know what to say. Tony shouldn’t be here. He probably doesn’t want to be here.

“You can go,” is the first thing that works its way free from Peter’s mouth. Tony raises his eyebrows.

“Good morning to you too,” Tony says, looking equal parts bemused and a little taken aback by Peter’s greeting. “Am I allowed to at least ask you how you’re feeling before you kick me out?

“I’m not kicking you out,” Peter mutters, the slightest bit defensive. He doesn’t know why Tony would think that he’s the one that wants him gone. He’d love Tony to stay - he’d have loved Tony to stay the second he woke up in the MedBay and they had their blowout. But it’s not about him. He doesn’t want Tony to stay if he doesn’t want to. He’s just making it easier for him - he’s made it abundantly clear that spending time with Peter isn’t exactly at the top of his priorities list, after all. “I, just, uh, I’m sorry you had to come down here. I don’t really remember much from last night.”

“That doesn’t exactly surprise me, you were pretty out of it,” Tony says easily. He shifts in his seat, but he seems to be making himself more comfortable than preparing to get up out of it and walk out the door again. The longer he sticks around the more it’s going to hurt when he leaves.

“I know you're mad at me and I know you don’t really want to be here. You can go, I won’t mind or be offended or anything, I promise,” Peter says, words catching as he says them because of their mistruth. He does mind. He does want Tony here.

But not if he doesn’t want to be.

“I think this means we need to talk about the other day, huh?” Tony says simply. Peter’s brows furrow together in confusion. He wonders if Tony is expecting an apology. He didn’t exactly give him one the other day - didn’t think that saving someone’s life warranted an apology. But obviously he went wrong somewhere along the way because if he hadn’t, maybe Tony might have stuck around.

“I’m sorry, Mister Stark,” he starts, a little nervous. He doesn’t know what he’s expected to say. What do you say to make someone want to stay? “I promise I wasn’t trying to not listen, or put any of us in a dangerous situation, or-”

“You don’t need to do the apologies, kid,” Tony says with a wave of his hand and a strained expression on his face as he listens to Peter’s words. Peter snaps his mouth shut.

“But I really am sorry,” Peter tries again after a beat of silence that Tony doesn’t fill. “I was just trying to protect you, that’s all. You were trapped and the whole place was going to blow and I couldn’t let anything happen to you… I couldn’t.” Peter watches Tony’s face carefully - he’s struggling to read his mix of emotions. “I’m only apologising for not thinking it through. I’m not apologising for trying to protect you,” Peter finishes determinedly. He won’t say he’s sorry for trying to save Tony’s life. Never. He’d do it over and over again in a heartbeat.

“That there, Pete, that’s the problem,” Tony says. He scrubs a hand down the side of his face roughly. “I can’t handle the idea of you protecting me, it’s-”

Peter frowns, a tiny stab of betrayal shooting through his chest. Despite the last few days, somewhere deep down still, he really thought that Tony still believed in him, at least a little bit. Maybe that was stupid of him.

“You let me come to Germany and let me loose against Captain America and the Winter Solider and now suddenly you don’t even trust me to protect you against a few guys with guns and explosives? I handled it, Mister Stark, and I know you think what I did was stupid and reckless, but I handled it.”

Tony shakes his head. “You’ve got a couple of things a little twisted, not that I can exactly blame you, I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly the other day,” - he huffs humourlessly. Peter thinks there might be regret in his eyes. “I know what you can do - I’ve known that since before I even really knew you. You’re capable of dealing with what you did the other day, you showed us that.”

“So what’s changed?” Peter asks. He knows he should keep the edge of frustration out of his voice but he can’t. If Tony really trusts him as much as he claims to then why won’t he just accept that Peter is capable of so much more? “Why did you freak out the other day?”

“What’s changed is that now I do really know you.”

Peter’s confused. This whole conversation feels like a roller-coaster of emotions that he’s a little too tired and dozy from the residual drugs pumping through his system to process. “I… what?”

“Now I know you,” Tony repeats. “When I took you to Germany, I didn’t know any more than Spider-Man, really. But you’re still a kid behind the mask, buddy-” Peter scowls weakly, “-and I know you’re gonna tell me that you’re not a kid and all that, but you are and I know you’d guard my life with your own if you’re given the chance and I trust you but that right there? That’s the damn problem.”

“The problem?” Peter repeats incredulously. He’s grown up watching movies and reading comic books under the bed covers with a torch after his bedtime, enamoured with the idea of the action hero choosing to do the right thing - even at the expense of themselves. He’s always thought that laying your life on the line for someone is the most selfless thing you can do for someone and that’s what Tony’s upset about?

“It’s… oh, I don’t know,” Tony mutters. He pauses, thinking for a second. “I was the one who screwed that mission up in the first place. I let my guard down and those idiots got a hold of me. My bad-”

“That wasn’t on you,” Peter says firmly. At this point, it’s becoming unclear who’s trying to comfort who.

“Uh, uh, I’m not done,” Tony chastises. “I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you. And not just because your Aunt would skin me alive. I’ve, uh, I’ve grown kind of fond of you, kid, I don’t know if you can tell. And the idea of anything happening to you - anything at all, let alone something happening because of me doesn’t sit particularly well.”

Oh.

That makes more sense than Peter was expecting. He suddenly feels bad about even rising to the challenge of Tony’s argument in the first place. He knows that Tony tries to cover up the way he feels with a mask of sarcasm and sharp words - Peter just never thought that he’d be on the receiving end.

“I didn’t know I scared you,” Peter says softly. “I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Tony admonishes with a half-hearted scoff. “I don’t think I’d go that far.”

“Sure,” Peter says conspiratorially. He shifts closer to the edge of the bed, closer to Tony. Tony brings an arm up to rest on top of the bed, brushing against Peter’s leg under the covers. It’s nice - the sort of grounding they both need right now. The sort of contact they’ve both been sorely missing.

“Okay, so maybe I was a little worried,” Tony concedes. “I’ve never really been one for kids, never thought I would be. But with you, I just, I don’t want you to grow up too soon. And if I know you half as well as I think I do, then I know that you won’t be hanging up that suit for a long time. Just do both of us a favour and stick to giving old ladies directions for a while, maybe? You’ve got all the time in the world for all the traumatising, hardcore stuff, I promise you.”

“So… you're saying I should skip the traumatising stuff and just stick to traumatising you instead?”

“You’re already doing a pretty damn good job of that, kid.”

---

“May’s on her way from the airport,” Peter says distractedly, later that day as he types out a reply to her text.

Tony is still by Peter’s bedside, his legs kicked up on the bed as he scrolls through his StarkPad. Peter looks up when Tony doesn’t reply. “Hey, Mister Stark?”

“Huh?”

“May’s on her way. Happy just picked her up.”

“Okay, good.”

“What’re you working on?” Peter asks, abandoning his phone as he wonders what’s got Tony so distracted.

“Just going through Rhodey’s report on the other day. Adding in the details, trying to make myself sound cooler, all that good stuff.”

Peter laughs. “Can I help?”

“Pete-”

“You said you trust me!

“Well, this is paperwork, it’s boring-”

“I want to learn! I could help!”

Tony lets out a long-winded sigh. “You really like to make me suffer, don’t you?” He turns fully towards Peter and raises his eyebrows expectantly. “So, hit me then. What’s your take on how the other day went down?”

Peter looks up towards Tony, the beginnings of a grin tugging at his lips.

“Well, I saved the day for starters, it’s really important that you put that in there.”

Tony’s face twists in conflict for a second before it smooths out again. He gives Peter a smile, tired and a little worn but genuine all the same - “yeah, yeah. Sure, kid. We’ll work it in.”

#my writing #irondad #irondad fic #the friendly neighborhood exchange #today on 'hayley doesn't know how to stick to a word limit': this fic #oops #when will i ever control myself

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 5 years ago

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SFW Alphabet ~ Peter Parker

These aren’t my ABC’s. I stole them from @caitlinpotter

___________________________________________

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?

Peter is very affectionate, at least in his mind. In reality, he’s always worried that he’ll make things awkward, especially at the beginning of your relationship. Are you comfortable with a hug right now? Is a kiss too much PDA? But once you’ve been dating for a while, he gets a lot more comfortable and then it’s hugs and cute little wrestling fights all the time.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He’s the best best friend. Y’all probably met at school (most likely in Academic Decathlon) and you became friends really quickly. You guys are the best friends that do EVERYTHING together.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Peter LOVES to cuddle. Especially after the snap (I honestly can’t even refer to it as the ‘blip’), he’s terrified of losing you because he saw how quickly it can happen.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Peter really wants to settle down with you but not at the expense of being Spiderman. He wants a life with you and maybe even some kids but he would still be the friendly neighborhood Spiderman while he did it

He’s a teenage boy so, of course, there’s dirty clothes everywhere. He’s good at doing the dishes and getting chores done though. When he’s been out all night protecting the city though, he does sometimes forget every now and then.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Breaking up with you would absolutely destroy Peter. It has nothing to do with his feelings for you. The boy is still madly in love with you but that’s why he needs to let you go. He feels like you’re in danger when you’re with him and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to you.

He would try so hard to stay strong and explain everything and make sure that you knew that you didn’t do anything wrong and just keep telling you how perfect you are but this boy would definitely start crying.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Peter, at the moment, is content with being in a very happily committed relationship with you. He’s not in a huge rush to get engaged but he definitely wants to in the future. He’d propose to you when you’re around 24 or 25 and it would be simple and cute!

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Peter is SUPER careful with you. Because of his super strength, he’s constantly horrified of hurting you by accident. Emotionally, Peter isn’t too aggressive anyways and that really translates into your relationship. He’s snapped at you a few times when he’s super stressed from school or with Avengers stuff but he always is very apologetic about it.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Peter loves hugs. He would hug you all the time if he could. He hugs you whenever he sees you. He wraps you in his arms and squeezes you super tight but it’s a comforting tight, not a Lord-help-me-I-can’t-breathe tight.

Going back to the cuddling, he loves to hug you because it means that you’re real and tangible and there with him. He savors every moment because he’s scared to lose you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He’s very cautious with the L-word. He’s lost so many people that he loves from his parents to Uncle Ben to Stark. Even when he starts to feel it, he doesn’t even admit it to himself because then that’s something that he can lose.

Somewhere around the five or six month mark though it slips out before either of you even know what happened but you’re quick to return the sentiment

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Peter doesn’t get jealous so much as he does insecure. You’ve reassured him dozens of times that you don’t want to be with anyone other than him but that doesn’t stop him from wondering if you’d rather be Brad every now and then.

You and Peter have a very trusting relationship. You both accept the fact that you both have friends in the gender that you’re attracted to but that you shouldn’t be in a relationship if you can’t trust each other. It’s never really been an issue for your relationship.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Peter loves to kiss you on the top of the head. That’s his trademark for you. Whenever he sees you after school, it’s a big hug where he kind of engulfs your body in his arms and you bury your face in his chest and he kisses the top of your head.

(But he’ll kiss you anywhere and everywhere when he can)

He loves when you kiss his chest but he’ll never really admit it cause he feels a little weird about it but it drives him wild.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He’s great with kids because he’s such a little goof himself. They wanna play with Legos? GREAT! Cause Peter’s an expert Lego builder. They wanna do his hair? Well it’s their lucky day cause Peter is more than willing to walk the runway with bows in his hair.

As for his own, he knows he wants them one day but he doesn’t know exactly when. He doesn’t want to put them in any danger and that’s what’s holding him back the most but he would love to see some mini-yous running around one day.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings are cuddly in the Parker residence! There is a solid twenty minutes of cuddling and talking before you guys get out of bed in the morning so be sure to set your alarm clock a little earlier than needed.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

There are two kinds of nights

#1: Nerdy Nights: Y’all are up all night bingeing Star Wars or playing games or studying for finals. There’s usually a lot of take-out involved.

#2: Worrisome Nights: Peter is out saving the world as usual leaving you home terrified that maybe that was the last night you’d have with him.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Depends on what it is. Peter doesn’t reveal to you that he’s Spiderman for about five months into your relationship. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, he just thought it would put you in danger.

Other things, like Stark’s death, he’s a mess. He pours his heart out to you when it happens and just needs you to hold him and hug him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Peter is very patient. He doesn’t really get easily angered at all (I mean it literally took everything up to End Game for the boy to activate Instant Kill). Even when you fight, there’s never yelling or threats. He may snap every now and then but that’s very far and few between.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Peter remembers everything! He’ll remember that one time that you mentioned that you loved Tiger Lillies three months ago and bring you one on your birthday. Even when he’s super stressed, he remembers your anniversary and makes sure to make you one of those cute little memory boxes.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

There was one time when he swung you both up to the top of the Brooklyn Bridge (much to your dismay at first because, afraid of heights or not, that’s still scary) and you watched the sun set over the city. It was simple and beautiful and the way you looked with the golden light shining on your face is a sight Peter will never forget.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Peter is very protective of you but not in a jealous boyfriend way. Due to his line of work, there’s always the possibility of actual danger. He’s not stalkerish or obssessive but he gets worried if he hasn’t heard from you in a while or if you’ve gone too long without returning his calls because he can’t keep his mind from wandering to all the horrible things that may have happened.

He doesn’t need to be protected too much physically but you’re his emotional support. You protect him by talking him out of dumb ideas or allowing him to talk to you about the things he goes through to protect his mental state.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts a lot of effort into everything. Peter’s an overthinker so he wants everything to be perfect for you. All of your dates are well thought out. There’s a gift for every holiday, anniversary, and birthday (even if it’s a simple I love you note). He just feels like he needs you to understand how much he loves you.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Peter’s not too concerned with his looks. He doesn’t want to look like a slob by any means but he’s not going out with perfectly slicked back hair and a 3 piece suit every time he leaves the house.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Most definitely. He was feeling in need of some romantic companionship for a while before you guys started dating but after you became official, he couldn’t imagine life without you. He felt like he needed you and without you, he didn’t feel whole.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Peter has a bad habit of just sort of flopping face first on the mattress and falling asleep there in his Spidersuit, only the mask removed. His hair will be all over the place and he’ll still be sweaty and occasionally scratched up but that doesn’t matter. That’s an issue for tomorrow.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker one shot #peter parker imagine #spiderman #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #sfw abc's #sfw alphabet

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cutie1365 · 5 years ago

Text

A Kid from Queens Part 13

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Info: CA: Civil War Era. Tony Stark enlists his daughter to find the web slinging spider in Queens.

Word count: 2921

Warnings: PG-13. Please tell me if I need to add anything.

A/N: Wow it’s been a while. Please let me know what you think! Comments and words of encouragement make me want to write and post so much more!

Masterlist linked in my bio. Taglist in the reblog. Remember to like, and comment or reblog to stay on my taglist!

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

Your breath caught in your throat as you jolted upright with a gasp. Your eyes scanned the room as realized you were awake and it was just a dream. A nightmare. Inhaling a few deep breaths, you attempted to control your breathing. Dropping your head into your hands and rubbing your eyes, as if to try and erase the images you saw.

You felt the bed shift beside you, and a quiet sweet voice rang through the silence.

“Y/N,” Two gentle hands found your body, wrapping comfortingly around you, “Are you ok?”

You simply nodded in response. You hadn’t looked at him yet. You were terrified that if you did you would just see flashes of what had woken you up only moments ago. It looked so real, it felt so real. But it wasn’t true, Peter was here, he was ok.

“Nightmare?” He asked quietly. A nod was all you could muster. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You raised your head finally, your eyes finding his in the dark. Reaching a hand out to cup his face and stroke his cheek, a sad smile donned your face that was meant to reassure Peter.

“Not really.” You whispered back with a shake of your head.

“That’s ok. Come here.” He beckoned you back into his arms.

You laid in silence with your head on his chest, listening to the smooth, melodic beating of his heart. Something was weighing heavily on your mind, Peter knew that much.

You propped your head up against his chest so that your eyes met.

“It’s just so unfair, for the universe to bring into my life the perfect guy at the most imperfect time.” You spoke suddenly.

“Maybe life’s not so cut and dry like that. Maybe there will never be a perfect time. Maybe we just have to make due with the time that we’re given.” Peter suggested.

You didn’t answer, you were lost in your own mind. Replaying the events of the last few weeks.

“What are you thinking about?” Peter asked, moving his fingers into your hair, finding your weakness.

“How none of this would have happened if it weren’t for that article.” You spoke with a guilty tone.

“You can’t know that, and now we can’t change that.” Peter tried to comfort you, since when did he get so mature?

“But I don’t want to-“ Your voice broke as tears began to well up in your eyes.

“Don’t want to what?” Peter asked, scanning your face in concern.

“Say goodbye to you. I just want to stay right here in this bed like this forever.” A stray tear slipped through the barricade and slid down your face.

“But you can’t. You can’t stop living just because of one slip up.” Peter tried to reassure you, swiping his thumb across your cheek to catch the tear.

“I just want to be with you, I wish it could just be as simple as that.” More tears began to spill now.

“Our lives will never be simple. I shoot webs and fight bad guys. You make technology that literally kills aliens. This isn’t simple, but it also doesn’t have to be. We can be perfectly complicated.” Peter smiled, trying to cheer you up, trying to give you hope.

“What if perfectly complicated means we have to wait for this press frenzy to blow over before we can be perfectly complicated together again?” You asked with a frown.

“If you think that’s what’s best, you know I’d wait however long for you.” Peter smiled a sweet, naive, hopeful smile. You sighed in response.

“That’s what I’m worried about! I don’t want you to press pause on your life for me. And what if it happens again? One picture, that’s all it takes, and we have to start this all over again.” You argued.

“So what do you want?” He asked quietly, pushing himself up slightly.

“It’s not what I want, but maybe what we need.” You answered quietly.

“And what’s that?” Peter asked, his tone and demeanor changed, as if he was preparing himself for your answer. As if he’d lost hope that this would go in his favor.

“Maybe we need time. Like a month or so, long enough for this to blow over. A month where we both get to live our separate lives. And at the end if we decide that it’s something worth fighting for— we give it a shot. Press or no press.” You suggested.

“I assume we wouldn’t be able to see each other during this month.” Peter asked, disappointed but understanding.

“Not unless absolutely necessary. Like emergencies or something.” You shook your head.

“And business? About the suit or something?” He asked once more.

“Happy’s still your point guy, you should probably just go through him.” You replied.

Peter sat quiet for a minute. Each growing second of silence made you more and more nervous waiting for his reply.

“Alright.” He nodded, and you smiled. He was giving this a chance, you were both giving this a chance, a fair fight, “Now would you get up here so I can kiss you? If this is my last night with you we’ve got to make it one to remember.” Your cheeks flushed at his forward ness.

“Bold of you to assume I could ever forget you Peter Parker.” You smiled sweetly, before your lips reunited.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

At 5 am F.R.I.D.A.Y. raised the electronic sunshades in your bedroom, letting in the early morning glow. You groaned as her voice filled the room, informing you of the time.

“It should be a crime to wake up this early.” Peter whined in a groggy voice.

“I agree,” You mumbled as you nuzzled into him, your head on his chest, tracing shapes with your anxious fingers. An unspoken heaviness hung around the room. You were both trying to make these last few moments last. One of you have to break the growing silence.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way, trust me.” You looked up into his eyes.

“But it does.” He replied in understanding and you nodded.

You kissed him once more, like a prisoner on death row indulging in their last meal.

“Your guests will be arriving shortly Ms. Stark,” F.R.I.D.A.Y reminded you.

The two of you quickly and quietly got ready before walking Peter to the door.

“You’re really something Ms. Stark.” He smiled, standing in your doorway. You both agreed that it would be a good idea if he left through the lobby as Peter Parker, not as Spider-Man through a window.

“That’s Dr. Stark to you.” You smirked, cherishing what might be your last few tastes of witty banter with him.

“Oh my apologies doctor.” He mirrored your smirk and turned to leave.

“Hey Peter, “ You grabbed his wrist and pulled him back, wrapping your arms around him, “I really am sorry. I wish things were different.”

Peter tilted your chin up to him and kissed you one last time.

With an optimistic smile, he said, “Who knows, maybe one day they will be.”

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

You welcomed Linda into your apartment not too long after. The first thing she did was squint and examine you, and you just knew a comment was coming.

“You look tired.” She raised a brow, the nerve of this woman.

“It’s 5:30 in the morning.” You retorted.

“Hm.” She scanned you up and down once more, “Well hair and makeup are on their way up, nothing some concealer and a hairbrush can’t fix.”

You sat in silence for the next hour, nearly nodding off every five minutes while your hair was pulled and your face covered.

Once the magic had been done Linda fiddled with your hair to make sure it was just the way she wanted it. A knock on your door pulled her from her trance, and the look on her face shifted: showtime.

As she pulled the door open with a smile that was far too bright for 6:30 am, you recognized the infamous Executive Editor immediately. You were surprised to see him, considering this wasn’t the site of a swanky new club opening or new age gallery party.

“Taylor Antrim, Vogue. It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Stark,” He spoke with a smirk as he stuck out his hand for you to shake. He exuded confidence, and you didn’t know whether to be intimidated or impressed.

“Y/N, please.” You smiled, taking his hand in yours. Two could play this game, you smirked back mirroring his cocky demeanor.

“Just wait until you hear his idea, it’s amazing!” Linda raved as we all took our place in your perfectly staged living room. She already knew? Of course she already knew, you thought, it was probably her idea in the first place.

“We want you to wear the dress.” The Editor spoke with an excited smile.

“The dress?” You asked carefully, fearing you already knew the answer.

“Your gala dress.” He answered, as if it was obvious. Your eyes grew wide. They took your silence as an opportunity to try and sell you on it, “As a show of strength, you’re fighting back. You’re rising above. A phoenix from the ashes. Regaining power over your trauma and not letting it rule your life. Just like you said- not letting them win.”

“But-” You tried but were cut off.

“It’s shocking, it’s new, it’s perfect.” Taylor spoke with expressive hand gestures.

“It’s torn and bloody.” You shot back, “Don’t you think that will be a little too... gory?”

“No no no. Picture it- Your hair and makeup is going to be fierce, edgy. You’ve got the dress, with the ripped slit up the thigh. It’s sexy, its powerful. Then pointed directly at the camera, you’ve got the Iron Man hand. You’re taking control; of your life, of your destiny, over the people who did this.” He laid it out for you, mimicking the movements and the pose.

You looked over to Linda and knew... you didn’t have a choice.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

“Hey Youtube, today we’re here with Y/N Stark in her new stunning 5th Avenue apartment. Why don’t you start the tour.” Your interviewer motioned to you with a cheerful smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad, you thought.

“Right this way!” You welcoming them inside with a sultry smile, “So now, obviously, we’re in the living room. Over here we’ve got the kitchen. But we’ve got two options. Down this hallway, we've got a gym, an office, and a little lab where I’m working on a few new projects. Or we could go this way towards the bedroom, closet and terrace. Up to you.”

“We hear your closet is to die for! Why don’t we start there?” She spoke, tugging the camera man in that direction. Typical. No one cares about the tech you develop in the lab. They care about how many shoes you have.

“Let’s do it.” You laughed, doing your best to hide your annoyance and play your part.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

After a mind numbing few hours of getting footage of your entire apartment, you were finally free... somewhat. You had one of your planned outings with Thomas soon that you weren’t entirely dreading, though that’s mainly because who had a plan of your own.

Phase one: Dinner at a fancy restaurant known to be a spot rife with paparazzi.

Phase two: A stroll around 5th and into the park, arm in arm with some tipped off paparazzi following you around.

Phase three: Thomas inevitably invites you back up to his place after. Here’s where you’d usually decline and make up an excuse, but you needed to fast track a few things and knew this was the perfect opportunity. So you surprise him, and accept.

As Thomas ushers you into his house with a hand on your lower back that drops once the door was shut, you knew this was the best time to act. While his back is turned locking the door, you slip a bug onto the side of the entry table so you can easily snatch it on your way out. That will work on hacking into the wifi and any accounts affiliated with the network. You estimate it will take about 25 minutes to collect all the data for you to comb through once you return home. Now you just have to wait.

Thomas turned back to you, suspecting nothing, and offered you a drink. You declined as the two of you entered into the main sitting room. He was about to speak and fill the silence when his phone rang.

“What channel?” He spoke into the phone, picking up the TV remote and switching it to whatever channel someone, probably a publicist, was telling him to.

The volume began to blare as he adjusted it, and the sound of your name caused you to whip around and face the screen.

“Y/N Stark said herself that Thomas was over at the time of this Spider sighting. Is it possible that the answer is as simple as that? Thomas De Blasio is Spider-Man?” One reporter spoke, sounding very convinced at this frankly absurd conspiracy.

“They were both at the gala!” The co-host joined in, fueling the fire.

You stared at the screen in disbelief. As if things couldn’t get any worse, someone started a rumor that Thomas is Spider-Man. How could people even believe this? How could he possibly swing into the gala from the outside if he was already inside, cowering behind you might you add. But you also know that now a days, people don’t care about facts, they care about entertainment.

Surely his father, the mayor, wouldn’t want to be associated with a vigilante, these rumors have to be put to bed.

“Thomas, this isn’t good.” You turned back to him with a stern look.

“It would actually be kind of cool, all the attention I would get if I came out-” He tried to continue put you cut off his attention whore daydream.

“No. You have to deny this. Spider-Man is a... vigilante. You can’t have that connected to you and your father's campaign. They’d put you in jail, they’d make you sign the Accords... I don’t know, but none of this is worth it when it’s not even true.” You started to ramble but had to catch yourself before you let on more than you’d like.

“Uh fine, you’re right. But who’s to say they’d even believe me if I denied it.” He raised an eyebrow with a smirk, obviously loving this public attention right now.

“I’m not your publicist, I don’t know.” You shot back and turned back towards the screen to see if they’ve changed the subject yet.

“Whoever he is, you’re really trying to protect him, aren't you?” Thomas spoke, and your jaw dropped slightly. Maybe he wasn’t as dumb as you thought.

“What are you talking about?” You whipped back to face him, speaking with an angry tone, attempting to deny his correct accusation.

“Spider-Man.” He stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world

“I don’t even know him.” You shook your head, and tried to make your tone sound as annoyed and convincing as possible.

“Sure you don’t. You can keep your secrets, whatever.” He rolled his eyes. Now you were really set off.

“I’m the one with secrets?!?” You yelled, motioning towards him with your finger, “You’re the one who used me- for years! You told me you loved me. Was any of that real?”

“Ok fine. You want the truth?” He yelled back, but the more he spoke the less angry his tone got and the more genuine it sounded, “The truth is that it started as a set up, yes. But along the way... yeah I started to fall for you. You’re more than just a pretty face, you’re smart and good. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes. Turning your back on him once more.

“You know I was really worried about you after the gala. I saw you get hit and I didn’t think you were going to get back up.” He approached you, laying a hand on your shoulder.

“Well you were a big help cowering behind me while I stood up and fought.” You smacked his hand off as you turned around to retort.

“Well thank god Spider-Man showed up.” He spoke, not without insinuation.

“Why would someone even attack a campaign fundraiser?” You asked, looking for a shift in his eyes, to see if he knew something... but you saw nothing. You attempted to compose yourself, you couldn’t let your emotions get in the way and accidently expose your true motives here.

“People are crazy, this is New York baby. Come on, let’s have a drink, stay a while.” He motioned towards the bar, clearly wanting to get off this subject.

You heard F.R.I.D.A.Y. speak into your earpiece, “data retrieval complete”. Perfect timing.

“Can’t, I’ve got a million applications to read for the Internship Program.” You spoke, not dropping your slightly annoyed tone as you made your way towards the door, slipping your bug into your pocket, and Thomas didn’t suspect a thing. That’s what happens when you’re taught sleight of hand by Natasha Romanov.

As long as people continue to underestimate you, this was going to be a breeze. They’d never see you coming.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

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the-salty-asian · 4 years ago

Text

The Spider and The Fly | The Spider Wasp

Series Masterlist

Warnings: language, protesting?, creepy guy harassment, mention of death, and fighting

Summary: Peter’s friends aren’t too fond of y/n.

Word Count: 3.1K

The crowded halls of Midtown High would always annoy y/n. Yet she praised them for hiding her as she eavesdropped on the argument Peter and his friends were having.

“There’s just something off about her, man.”

“Something off? Have you seen us!? There’s a little something off about us Ned!”

“You’ve barely known her for a week Peter!”

“But guys I’ve ne-

“Yea, yea you’ve never felt this way before.”

Peter’s face softened, “MJ, I’m sorry I didn’t feel-”

“It’s whatever Peter, it’s in the past. I just think she’s hiding something. We’re trying to look out for you.”

Peter sighed, “Maybe you guys are right, but she needs friends right now. She’s a newbie.”

Y/n frowned. Any sane person could see that Peter was heavily influenced by his friends when it came to making decisions. There was no possible way for her to get closer to Peter until his friends trusted her too.

She rounded the corner, “Hey Pete! Ned, MJ.”

MJ and Ned shared an annoyed glance behind Peter’s back while he stepped toward her.

“Y-y/n hey!”

“Only my friends call me MJ,”she shot her a dirty look before retreating down the hallway. She left the three staring at her back until she disappeared into the wall of students.

“Well isn’t she just a dark ray of sunshine today.”

Peter rubbed at the back of his neck, “I’m sorry about MJ, she’s not one to make friends easily.”

Ned shot his best friend a wary glance that didn’t go unnoticed by y/n’s eyes. Even if he wasn’t as open about his feelings towards her, y/n knew that there was some trust to be gained.

“So I’ve noticed.”

Y/n had found herself a permanent spot at the deemed “losers” table, much to Michelle and Ned’s disliking. By the third day, Peter had stopped gazing at Liz across the cafeteria. Even now she attempted to drill holes in the back of y/n’s head as she made him laugh.

“Hey guys I have something to show you.”

Her hands dipped into her bag and grasped for the box amongst the crumpled papers. It’s contents clinked together as she pulled it out and into the table. The second the boys laid eyes on its cover, their mouths fell agape.

“No waaayy!”

“I heard you guys were building a LEGO Death Star and I thought it’d be cool to add to your collection!”

“The Millennium Falcon!? That’s hella expensive, y/n!”

“I found a guy selling it online for cheap,”she lied.

The cheapest that the toy was going for was $50, even on the sketchiest of websites. Y/n had found it much easier to slip it in her bag and walk out the employee exit of the store.

Peter took the box from her hands and set it between him and Ned. Their eyes roamed the picture on the front while they grinned from ear to ear.

“I’ll need some help building it of course.”

Ned beamed at her,“We got you!”

“Yea totally!”Peter’s eyes lit up. “Hey do you wanna help us finish the Death Star first?”

The grin on Ned’s face fell and his eyes flickered to Michelle behind her book. Y/n felt the tension twist around her neck like a rope. She had to be careful to not kick the chair she balanced on.

“I’d love to Pete, if that's ok with you Ned?”

“Yea, I guess.”he looked like a kicked puppy. “Hey Pete, we gotta pick something up from the workshop before lunch is over.”

“No we don-”

“Yes.We.Do”

Ned’s fingers closed around Peter’s wrist, pulling his best friend up with him. Together they weaved their way out of the cafeteria, leaving y/n stranded with Michelle. She nervously eyed the book covering the girl’s face and hoped that it’d shield her for the rest of lunch.

“Winning us over with materialistic things, good play y/n.” She rested the book in her lap. “It won’t work with me though, sorry.”

The smile on y/n’s lips faltered but she quickly recovered. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Yea sure.”

With that, Michelle shoved her book into her bag and followed the direction that Peter and Ned had gone.

The rest of the week went by in a flash and soon enough y/n sat on the floor next to a nearly finished LEGO Death Star. It would’ve been complete the next day. However when y/n arrived at Peter’s door the next day, she found the two boys standing apologetically, a heap of LEGO pieces between them.

“Can you tell me why we have to rebuild it again?”

The two boys exchanged a nervous glance. Y/n could tell there was a secret linked between them, something she may already have known.

“Oh um Peter scared the living shit out of me and I kinda dropped it?” Ned blused.

Y/n’s lips turned up into a smirk, “Ah right.”

Over the past few afternoons of LEGOs and witty conversations, Ned had warmed up to her. They began to banter as if they had known each other their whole lives. As they laughed over her latest remark, y/n couldn’t help but notice Peter’s eyes on her.

“Here you do the last piece, y/n.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Ned’s face fall. LEGOs were a sacred thing the two boys had let her in on, much against his protests.

“Actually,”she grabbed Ned’s wrist and turned his palm towards the ceiling. “I think Ned should do it instead, Pete.”

A childish grin spread across Ned’s face as she pressed the plastic into his hand. His eyes whispered to her a silent thank you before he snapped the piece into place. High fives were passed around as they looked over their creation with pride. Their celebration was cut short by the smoke alarm and the slamming of an oven door. Smoke poured into Peter’s open doorway soon followed by May Parker. She leaned against the door frame leisurely waving the air with her oven mit.

“Hey, are you two joining us for dinner? I made my famous meatloaf!”

Y/n was quick to catch the warning glance that Peter gave his friend as Ned stumbled over his words. “I can’t Ms. Parker. I gotta head home.”

Her bottom lip jutted out, “Aww ok Ned, it was good to see you!”

“Yea you too Ms. Parker!”

Ned quickly shuffled past her and y/n contemplated following after him.

“How about you, y/n?”

Her stomach dropped, there was no getting out of this one. She had skirted by May’s dinner requests a couple of times, but she had run out of excuses.

Y/n looked nervously from Peter to his aunt, “Oh no, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Oh please sweetheart! I’ve been dying to meet the girl Peter doesn’t shut up about!”

Peter’s eyes widened, “MAY!”

A real laugh escaped y/n’s lips at how red he had turned.

“Y-you don’t have to if you want to. I’m sure-“

“Peter give her a break!”she laughed and took y/n’s hand in hers giving it a warm squeeze. “Will you join us?”

It took all that was in her not to flinch at May’s foreign, soft touch. She regained the smile on her face, “Yes, of course.”

“Great! Peter, will you set the table?”

To say the least, May Parker was no gourmet chef. With every swallow of meatloaf y/n had to choke down, she regretted her response to a dinner invitation. Every few seconds she’d glance at Peter who would flash her an apologetic smile. Meanwhile, his aunt was rapidly firing questions at her. She answered them with ease, all rehearsed parts of a script.

“What do your parents do?”

“Oh well my father-”how was she supposed to tell her that her father was set on killing the Avengers? “Is a traveling businessman.”

“And your mother?”

Her mother, the word was a knife to her bruised heart. She would tell the truth for this one, for her mother.

“S-she’s no longer with us.”

May reached for her hand across the table,“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry to hear that!”

Much to y/n’s relief, May stopped her questions shortly after that. Instead, she shared stories of baby Peter that made him cover his face with his hands in embarrassment. Some of them even coaxed a laugh to tumble from y/n’s lips.

“Will you stay for dessert?”

“As much as I’d love to! I should probably get home, it was very nice meeting you Ms. Parker!”

“Oh no please, call me May, y/n!”

“Have a goodnight!”

Peter held the door for her and quickly ushered her outside before May could break out the photo albums from the shelf. Only when he closed the door did he calm down a bit.

He raked a hand through his curls, “Thanks for coming I-i know May’s not the best cook but she-“

“It was fine Peter. Thanks for having me.”

She held his gaze all the while stepping closer to him until she almost had to crane her neck to look at him. Her arms wrapped around his middle and her face pressed into his strong chest. Peter hesitated before he enveloped her in his arms and his hands splayed on her back. They stayed like that for a moment making it a game of who would let go first. Y/n lost. She pulled away from Peter’s warmth and opened her apartment door.

“Oh um goodnight, y/n!”

“Goodnight Pete,”she giggled at the state her hug left him in.

She closed the wood with a click, leaving a flustered Peter standing in the hallway. Through the spyhole she watched as Peter cheered silently before dancing happily through his door.

Things were starting to run more smoothly, Ned would greet her at lunch and y/n had received multiple dinner invitations from May. The only one who seemed to still give her the cold shoulder was Michelle. Y/n had tried every way she had known to get Michelle to like her. From bringing her all of her favorite foods at lunch to conversations about her favorite novels, the bookworm wasn’t easily swayed. But she herself even told y/n, materials meant nothing to Michelle. Y/n had spent every minute in class finding ways to get the girl on her side.

In front of her a couple girls whispered in hushed tones. Their giggles weren’t hard to notice but what had caught her attention was “protest”. She leaned over and tapped the closest girl on the shoulder.

“Hey what protest?”

“Oh, the women’s rights protest in Kissena Park! I didn’t take you for the protesting type.”

A wry smile formed on her lips, “I’m gonna give it a go, yea.”

Up until the bell rang, y/n was itching to find Michelle before she disappeared in the hive of students. When the clock finally reached 2:45, she was the first one out the door and running down the hall to her locker. Heads turned to look at her curiously as she ran about Midtown High’s campus in search of Michelle Jones. She found her almost to the school’s front doors.

“Hey! MJ-Michelle wait!”

To her surprise, she stopped in her tracks and spun around to meet her. Y/n’s shoes squeaked against the linoleum floor in an attempt to stop herself from colliding with her. Michelle’s face was washed in annoyance, her eyes stared down at y/n’s bent over figure.

“Well?”

“I w-was wondering if you were going to the women’s rights protest. The one in Kissena Park?”

“Yea,” Michelle crossed her arms over her chest while her dark eyes worked over y/n. “What about it?”

“Can I maybe join you?”

She took the request into consideration, chewing it over in her brain. Y/n almost thought that Michelle would spit it back in her face.

“Yea I don’t care, why not?”

“Great! I’ll meet you there?”

Michelle was already walking away, “Whatever.”

The fictional smile on y/n’s face while her eyes remained on the girl’s back. What an afternoon it was going to be.

Two hours later, y/n found herself getting off the bus right outside Kissena Park. A large crowd of women were already gathering at the front gate, signs in tow. After some searching, y/n finally found Michelle amongst them wielding a “guns have more rights than my vagina” sign.

Y/n’s mind panicked, she didn’t have a sign to flaunt. Her eyes scanned the crowd for an easy sign to pick off someone. And there it was, her saving grace. A large pink sign was propped up against the iron fence that read, “A vagina brought you into this world, a vagina can vote you out.” She shrugged, it was good enough for her.

“Hey Michelle!”

She spun around to reveal a wild grin on her face. This was Michelle in her element, no walls and no guard up. Her eyes surveyed the sign in y/n’s eyes before letting out a laugh.

“I like your sign.”

“Thanks, I like yours too.”

“Well come on, women’s rights aren’t gonna win themselves!”

At first. y/n didn’t appreciate the crowd, it made her on edge. Nothing good came out of waiting in large numbers. But as she watched Michelle’s defenses unravel she too felt the knot on her worries loosen. Soon enough they were walking side by side yelling with the crowd.

The girls walked the remainder of the park after the protest had finished. Y/n had finally chipped away at Michelle’s wall as they giggled endlessly over books and the students of Midtown High.”

“Who am I now?”Michelle bent her knees slightly. “You guys wanna take a ride in my new whip that’s not actually mine! Oh hey there’s Penis Park-“

“What are some pretty ladies like you doin down here?”

They had been too busy laughing that they hadn’t noticed the man approaching them on the other side of the walkway. Michelle was quick to brush past him but not quite enough. The man grabbed her by the upper arm and shoved his face in hers.

“Hey I’m talking to you!”

Michelle’s eyes were bulging with fear and she wasn’t strong enough to pull away from the stranger’s grip.

“Hey asshole don’t touch her!”

Y/n’s hands grabbed at his jacket sleeve and she aimed her knee at his lower half. It’s first attempt connected with his stomach and the second his groin. The attacker crumpled to the cement clutching his asset. Y/n wasted no time in kneeling beside him and taking his face in one hand. Her mouth hovered over his ear and she made sure that Michelle couldn’t see her next action.

She slipped a twenty dollar bill into his jacket pocket, “Sorry about that Kev’ I gotta make it believable.”

With that she stood and kicked him once in the ribs for good measure before turning towards Michelle. Her jaw was as low as the floor and her eyes wide with awe.

“Wow that was badass!”

“Thanks,”she took a hold of her hand. “I think we should get out of here.”

Michelle led y/n to the bus station, reenacting the fight scene the whole way there. Y/n couldn’t help but laugh as she punched the air in front of her with a few added sound effects.

“Hey,”Michelle stopped them just before the bus stop. “you maybe wanna come to my house tonight?”

She cracked a smile, “I’d love to.”

They say a person’s room often reveals a lot about them. This much was true about Michelle’s. Every surface was adorned with stacks of books except a small designated area for academic trophies. Crammed in the small space left on her dresser were three framed photos. One was of her family all gathered around a Christmas tree, another a photo of Midtown’s Academic team. The last one caught y/n’s eye, Michelle was holding the camera while Peter had his arm wrapped around her shoulders. They both grinned up at y/n who had taken the photo in her hands.

“I’m sorry for the mess I don’t really have visitors.”

At the sound of Michelle’s voice, she thrust the photo back into its place. The bookworm emerged in the doorway with her arms overflowing with snacks.

Y/n pointed at the photo, “So you and Peter huh?”

“Oh um no,”her eyes focused on her sock clad feet. “We’re just friends.”

“I’m not sure what you’re into but I got some movies that aren’t Star Wars, if you wanna watch those?”she laughed.

“Yea that’d be great!”

After two movies and a ton of snacks, the two girls laid on their backs staring into the abyss before them and listening to the sounds of the city outside Michelle’s window. A soft silence settled in the darkness around the bed. Y/n could sense the slowing of the girl’s breaths and prayed that Michelle was a heavy sleeper. Yet it was quite the opposite. Minutes passed before y/n attempted to slide off the mattress, when she was met with Michelle’s sleepy voice.

“Can I confess something?”she mumbled into the darkness.

Internally she did a victory dance, confessions were good. Y/n hummed beside her and felt the shift in the mattress as Michelle rolled over to face her. She followed in suit, her eyes finding Michelle’s dark ones.

“I’ve never really had a girls’ night.”

She feigned a gasp, “Really?”

A pain settled in her chest, it was her first girls’ night as well, and she was spending it to get information to kill the girl’s best friend. This was all kinds of fucked up on y/n’s part.

“Yea I don’t really like the female population at Midtown, but you’re different. I don’t know how just yet but you are.”

Y/n’s stomach sank. She was different because she wasn’t meant to be a regular teenager. Her sole purpose was to serve her father. Even if that meant to kill Peter Parker.

“Thanks?”

“I’m still new with this compliment thing. Give me a break.”

“Goodnight Michelle.”y/n chuckled.

“MJ.”

“What?”

She rolled over to face y/n again. Her eyes shone in the moonlight filtering through her window and a rare toothy smile was plastered on her face.

“You can call me MJ.”

A/n: After this I kinda want to turn it into an MJ x reader fic lmao.

Taglist: @rebekamckenzie @blossomreed @pluckypete @moistpotatobear

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