#this is your spidey sense on drugs any questions

[movedtodykedvonte]

Miguel would be super anti-drugs due to how he was essentially forced into addiction, so I imagine if he catches a single spiderman smoking or talking about weed he starts a Spidey themed D.A.R.E campaign and physically tackles you if you so much as mention Tylenol around him.

[80pairsofcrocs]

baby scarab || 63

masterlist - marvel masterlist - series masterlist

A/N : THERE IS NO MORE SCHEDULE, IM SORRY also thank you all sm for the support and requests :)))

please enjoy, and don't be shy if you want to be in the taglist, just ask <3, sorry for the long wait

pairings : steven grant x (platonic)reader, marc spector x (platonic) reader, khonshu x (platonic)reader, jake lockley x (platonic)reader, layla el faouly x (platonic)reader

TW : medicine (pills), spidey stuff, violence, language, angst, very rushed and hard to read, mention of doctors, needles, mention of child abuse, mentions of scars, KINDA SHORT?, let me know if i missed anything.

~~~

marc was next to disappear, making jake be the only one in control.

and without khonshu he didn't have much.

his daughter was just taken away from him by the police because they thought that she was being abused.

so he did what any sane person would do, and wait.

he knew khonshu was out there and as soon as you were in a secured location he would let jake know.

meanwhile, while he dealt with his emotions, you were just waking up a few hours later.

it was almost noon that day when you peeled your eyes open to see that you were in a grey room, on a bed.

there were two chairs next to it and a nightstand on the other side.

you also noticed the camera in the corner of the room.

you tried sitting up, but when you moved your arms they felt like they were stuck to something.

and they were. each of your wrists were handcuffed to the edges of the metal bed frame.

you pull against them with all the strength you have in your body, but come out with nothing.

your body was still weak with whatever those police stuck in you.

you hear a buzz and the door to your right unlock, making you dart your head in its direction, making you struggle against the cuffs again, the metal on metal burning your ears as they clang together.

the door opens and in comes a man, who was dressed in a tan trench coat, and strangely was also wearing a mask and sunglasses with a hat, and was carrying a binder.

he thanked whoever let him in and turned to you as the door locked again.

"hey, it's okay. you're safe" he tells you as he sits in the farthest chair from you.

you stop struggling to freeze while staring at the man with wide eyes.

"i'm detective wilson, i'm just here to ask you a few questions" you sense a grin under the face mask.

you just switch to a glare. "my dad isn't fucking beating me. now let me go home" you grit out and the man winces comically.

"damn. the mouth on you- okay-" he sighs tiredly. "i'm not actually here to ask you questions- i'm not even a detective" he starts and you begin to feel confused.

"then wha-"

"shhhh! they can hear us" he whispers and you shakily nod.

"i have a friend who has a friend who has a daughter, and that's you- so i decided that i would help my friend of a friends daughter get back home"

you blink twice before scoffing.

"yeah? and who's your friend of a friend?" you ask suspiciously.

"spider-man" he answers cockily and your eyes widen.

"wha-"

"now stay quiet, i'm busting you out of here" he whispers loudly and you nod quickly.

this man takes out one of those big metal cutters out of his trench coats pocket, and brings it down to the handcuff on your right wrist.

you squeeze your eyes shut and turn away only to hear the metal snap before your hand is free.

the man crawls across the bed, over your legs and he gets halfway over before you kick him off of you on to the other side.

he makes a loud noise of discomfort before getting up and getting the other handcuff off.

you start to get up when he rounds the bed when you stumble trying to take a step.

"careful, they drugged you up pretty good" the man whispers to you, and you nod, letting him lead you to the door.

"wait- they locked it" you tell him and he just clicks his tongue.

"oh that? you think i can't get this punk ass door to open?" he asks rhetorically and pulls a gun out of one of his pockets.

your eyes widen as far as they can go and you freeze in place.

"cover your ears, honey bunches" he starts, aiming the gun at the doorknob. "mr. pool is about to bust you outta this joint"

~~~

"okay, now that we're all back we need to make some kind of plan" marc takes the lead, looking to his two other alters.

they decided to separate bodies again, making it a bit easier on khonshu to talk to them.

khonshu had returned a bit before steven and marc came back from deep in the headspace.

"so she's at some hospital outside of town?" steven asks khonshu, repeating what he initially told them.

khonshu nods.

"okay so here's what we could do..-" marc starts, while jake slowly backs away towards his daughters room.

steven, marc, and khonshu were trying to come up with plans, only a little too busy to notice jakes absence.

he backed into the room and shut the door about halfway, and stared around.

it was messy if anything. more pictures gathered on the walls. pictures of yourself and them, and some of you and casper, even one with evie.

jake bit the inside of his cheek as he stepped closer to your bed, seeing your nightstand drawer left open, so he couldn't help but look inside.

while disgusted by the small cardboard box of condoms that looked like it was ripped open by an animal, he noticed a velvet box.

the curiosity got the best of him, and he gently picked it up, opening it to see a golden ring, with laylas name engraved into it.

the ring had a scarab on it, painted in shimmering orange paint while a few heart shaped pieces of metal surrounded it. along with it, a note, taped to the bottom of the box.

jake opened it, half smiling.

'for mom,

i had this ring custom made for you a while ago and never found a good opportunity to actually give it to you. if you're seeing this on mother's day then happy mother's day!! but if you're not then i'd still like to do something with just you. i want to thank you for taking me in as your own, and even though you could never replace my birth mother, nobody could ever replace you. you're the best mom i ever could've had, so thank you for adopting me with my dads.

i love you, mom.

from, y/n'

jake teared up with a small smile and folded the note back up and put the box back, then turning to set his eyes on his jacket.

the leather jacket he let you borrow on your trip to the doctor. it was laying on your bed, smoothed out on top of your blankets.

jakes smile turned into a frown, but the tears didn't stop.

he took his jacket in his hands and sat on the bed, folding in on himself as he clutched the leather in his hands.

he let a choked sob come out, then heard the door creak.

"..jake?" steven starts quietly. "are you alright?" that's all it took for jake to completely break down, while steven and marc rush to him.

"hey what happened?" steven asks gently and jake picks his head up to violently wipe at his wet cheeks.

"we can't lose her- we can't-"

"take a breath, we'll get her back" marc confidentially says without missing a beat, making jake nod and listen to his instruction.

"they had no right" he shakes his head, taking his hat off and tossing it to the side, not caring where it landed.

"jake listen to me" marc starts. "our daughter has gotten into way worse, and being honest she could find her way back all in her own"

he sighs. "but this is different, she didn't leave on her own. she was taken by actual police so it might take a bit to get her back"

"but she's safe?" jake asks quietly and steven nods.

"we promise"

"then let's carry on with the plan" jake wipes at his cheeks. "our daughter needs us"

~~~

"fuck"

"hey, young lady, watch your mouth"

"well sorry, but you're not the one who just fucking tripped" you grit out, letting the man drag you through the long white hallways of the hospital you were in.

he told you that he was going to get you out of there without anyone noticing, and then help you get home.

you decided to just trust him. you needed to get home to your family and this was the only way to do it.

"sir? where are you taking that patient?" a female voice asks from behind you two.

it was obvious you were a patient there, the uncomfortable and itchy gown made sure of it.

"out" he answers quickly, grabbing onto your wrist and full on sprinting away, while the lady yells after you.

"wait- let go! we're heading right for a window!" you yell at him, as he sprints towards a floor to ceiling window.

"i know! just hang on!" he yells back, turning to grab you by the waist and jump at the window, causing it to break, leaving you both to plummet towards the concrete sidewalk.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" you scream, grabbing at the man's jacket as tight as you could.

you squeeze your eyes shut the closer you get to the ground, when you feel yourself lift up and swing away, similar to when you would swing around london at night.

next thing you knew, you were standing on solid ground while the man's coat and hat were dropped to the ground behind you while you were being rushed towards an alleyway.

"hey! what-"

"shh! shh! let me explain-" you cut him off by kicking him in the shin, making him gasp, and that's when you see his face for the first time.

it almost looked like a raisin in a fucked up way.

"dude-"

"hey, just listen and don't fucking kick me again, i'm trying to help you" he starts and you just blink.

he sighs. "leave the questions for later" he starts while putting a red and black mask over his face. "for now, my names deadpool"

~~~

"WHAT!? SHES GONE? WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHES FUCKING GONE?!" layla screams from over marc's phone.

he sighs and looks out the window to his left. "they had reason to take her layla, we just don't know what to do.." he explains while steven and jake were coming up with some bullshit plan in the other room.

"well where is she now?!"

"..at a hospital a couple miles out from town" marc stutters, fighting tears that were coming to his eyes. "khonshu followed her there"

"jesus-  well i'm coming over then" layla hangs up after scoffing and marc's eye twitches before he slams the phone down.

that gathers the attention of both steven and jake, who slowly approach marc who now had his head in his hands, still sitting at the kitchen table.

it's silent before marc inhales sharply and sits up straight, with a clenched jaw while wringing a hand around his right wrist.

"hey, don't do that" steven reaches out gently, separating marc's hands as he relaxes all of his muscles and completely falls onto steven, arms around his back clawing at his shirt.

"we have- we have to get her back" marc grits out in a pitch higher that usual.

"i know, we know marc. we will i promise" steven rushes to reassure him.

steven felt absolutely terrible right now. even though they all loved you dearly, steven couldn't focus on himself but his alters.

because without them, he feels he wouldn't even be here in the first place.

marc tried his hardest to remain calm, but even after jakes small meltdown he felt almost powerless.

"should we go out? look for her?" marc asks in between shuttering breaths.

"i think that's the best idea" steven starts. "but what about layla? she's coming over"

"shit" marc mumbles.

"jake and i could go and-"

"no, i want to be there" marc starts. "i need her to know it's not her fault- and to apologize"

steven stays quiet and sits down next to marc where he was sat on the couch.

"she made it pretty clear how she felt about us forcing her to the doctor, and now it's come back and bitten us in the ass. i need to apologize for being a dick about it too" marc sighs.

"you weren't a dick-"

"yes he was, amigo" jake cuts in from wherever he was listening from.

he enters the room. "but she still doesn't hate you" he defends.

marc just sighs and shakes his head.

"i just want to know if she's okay right now" he says.

~~~

"THIS IS NOT OKAY!!" you shout, earning the attention of the man who's dragging you around tall buildings, earning looks from pedestrians.

"you'll be fine! it's just a light jog!" 'deadpool' turns his head to yell back.

you were still wearing the hospital gown and those socks with the sticky things on the bottom, and it hurt every time you took another step.

you just groan and allow this almost complete stranger in a spandex suit and mask to lead you around, until he suddenly stops, making you run into his back.

"what the fu-"

"hey! what did i say about the language?"

"to watch it" you respond.

"exactly, now let's get you a change of clothes, hm?" he gestures towards the thrift store you just stopped by, so you shrug.

"let's make it quick, i want to go home" you tell him sternly and he nods.

you both walk in and you scan the room, seeing there aren't that many people and that the person at the register was on their phone.

nobody even noticed that you look like you just escaped a hospital- which you did- and the man with you was in a literal superhero suit with two huge swords on his back.

the man- deadpool- almost sprints over to a prom dress that was on display, and you look at him with a raised eyebrow.

"how about this? it's very sparkly" he twirls it around and you scoff.

"no"

"OOH- but this one! it's perfect" he throws the previous dress to the floor to show you a bright hot pink sundress.

you just turn away with a smile, shuffling through a rack of pants.

"maybe next time" you mumble which makes him gasp.

"really?! you're just the sweetest, we need to hang out more!" he swings an arm around your shoulder.

"you pretty much saved my life so i'd be down" you begin. "as long as you don't like.. murder me or something" you add and he takes his arm off you to shove a shirt into your arms.

"perfect- now go try those on so we can get you home" he starts guiding you by the shoulders to the dressing room.

you just sighed and went along with it, locking the door once you were in the room.

you now notice the black shirt, which had a small unicorn with rainbow hair right in the center of it.

your eye twitches but you decide against leaving the changing room to argue with him.

you slip your hospital gown off and stare in the mirror, furrowing your eyebrows.

it's weird to be doing this in a changing room after you just escaped a hospital, but you can't help but stare at the scars that littered your body.

a gunshot wound on your thing from when harrow was brought back to life, multiple scars on your abdomen from fighting, and some on your face from fights at school and such.

and of course the huge ones on your back from when you got cut by one of your foster 'mothers' by a broken beer bottle.

you look away and reach for the pants, putting them on quickly before the shirt.

it was still a bit cold out since it was only the beginning of march, so you shiver once before shoving the door back open, stopping when your path is blocked by 'deadpool'. 

you raise an eyebrow when he leads you away, and to the doors.

"wait don't we have to pay for this stuff-"

"nope! just run!" he grabs your hand, running out of the store as the once distracted employee shouted to stop just before you turned the next corner.

"wait- this isn't right!" you angrily rip your hand away from his to stop.

he sighs and puts his hands on his head.

"but muffin-cakes, nows not the time to think about what's right, the police are probably tracking you down and your family is worried about you" he walks a step closer to you and puts his hands on your shoulders.

"now believe me, you get back home, and be with your family no matter how much you think you'll see them in the future" he shakes your shoulders a bit, making your eyes widen.

"okay, okay let's just go-"

"that's the spirit! now come on!" he begins to run with you again.

~~~

layla was now at yours and marc's place, pacing back and forth while scolding marc.

"did you even think about what that doctor might do if she saw those scars?!" she yells, making marc cringe.

"layla.." he sighs. "i... didn't even think about it i just assumed it'd be done-"

"she was traumatized! don't you realize she has been tortured by doctors all her life?!" layla rubs her temples. "sorry- i don't mean to yell i'm just worried, what if she left the hospital? what if somebody took her?"

"layla" marc stands up, putting a hand on each of her shoulders. "you know our girl is tough. she'll be okay. we should go out and find her" he decides and layla nods.

"can we come?" steven pipes up, referring to him and jake.

"no" marc starts getting his shoes on.

"wha- why?!" steven whines, wringing his wrists with his hands.

marc goes over to him to stop his hands. "because i need you two to stay here in case she comes back" he tells him softly.

steven just sighs. "i want to be there when you find her.." he says sadly and marc nods.

"i know but i really need you guys to stay-"

"she's our daughter too you know" steven points out and jake nods from where he stands.

marc sighs tiredly and looks to layla for help, but she just shrugs.

"please? i promise we'll get back as soon as we can" marc tries to assure steven.

steven doesn't say anything, making marc continue to get ready to go.

layla just looks sadly at steven. he really wanted to be there when his daughter was found.

"..fine..." steven sighs and moves to the bed, sitting on it and refusing to look at marc, or anyone for that matter.

"let's just go, he'll calm down once y/ns back" layla says, and marc nods.

"stay safe amigos" jake tips his hat at the both of them before they go.

after marc and layla were out the door, that's when steven broke down.

jake heard his stifled sons and went to calm him. "steven, i know you want to help but we have to stay in case she comes home-"

"but she's our daughter too! it's not fair!" steven whines and cries like a toddler throwing a tantrum, but jake gets it.

he would've volunteered to go too if it wasn't for the fact that he was afraid.

afraid you still hated them since your fight.

jake sighs. "just stop crying.. she will be back before you know it" he nods to steven, who's beginning to calm himself down.

"yeah yeah, thank you jake"

~~~

"there it is! that's my apartment building!" you stop in your tracks to look across the street and grin widely, deadpool stopping as well.

"well don't just sit here like a bag of dicks, we have to find your parents" he shrugs, walking across the street and up to the doors only to see a disheveled couple sprint out.

"what the fuck-" the man says, staring at deadpool's suit.

he then turns to you and that's when you gasp to yourself.

it was marc and layla.

you stand as still as a statue, deadpool trying to figure out what was going on.

"is that her..?" marc asks layla in a panic, seeing you just stand and stare wide eyed at them.

"baby is that you?!" marc decides to shout and it doesn't even take a second to start sprinting over to where they stood, not even bothering to check if cars were coming in your direction.

lucky for you, there wasn't.

marc and layla both held hands tightly as they also jogged in your direction, before you throw yourself into their arms, hysterically sobbing.

"i'm so- so sorry-" you start but layla shushes you.

"no no, don't apologize" she and marc both hold you as you have an arm wrapped around both of them.

you open your eyes to pull back and look to marc.

"oh honey.. this is my fault. i shouldn't have made you-"

"no dad. it's okay" you wipe a tear from your face before proceeding. "is.. are steven and jake in there..?" you ask and marc gasps.

"shit- we have to go! they are waiting in the apartment!" layla panics, remembering how steven was before they left.

marc then turns and sees deadpool just watching them, fiddling with a gun.

"i- did you help her..?" he asks him and he nods.

"of course i did, if i didn't the author would've procrastinated the whole 'finding home' thing" he waves them off and marc makes a face before guiding you to the doors.

you turn back, right before entering the building. "thank you wade" you say genuinely and send a small smile wades way.

"of course, sugar plum. wouldn't want the readers to get too sad do we?" he the walks off.

you just shake your head and grabs your mothers hand, walking with both your parents to the elevator.

~~~

it was actually extremely awkward in the elevator since all of your adrenaline was coming down, and you look up slowly at marc.

"are you guys still mad at me..?" you ask and marc sighs.

"not now" he mumbles and layla gives him a stern look.

you just kick the ground and stare at the elevator doors before they open.

marc almost drags you to the apartment with layla mumbling curses before you freeze in place at the door, seeing your two other dads.

they whip around once they hear the door open and that's when steven breaks down in tears.

"o-oh my gods! she- she's back!" he basically sprints over to take you into his arms, you doing the same.

"oh darling, my heart, i missed you so much- i thought something bad would happen to you!" he takes you back to hold you by the shoulders and stare into your eyes.

"dad.. i'm sorry" you whisper with tears in your eyes.

steven simply shakes his head. "s'nothing to be sorry for" he basically passes you onto jake, who squeezes you almost as tight as he can.

you struggle a bit to breath before he lets go, taking in your appearance.

"is that.. is that a unicorn on your shirt?" he asks with a raised brow.

you look down at your shirt, and remember that wade had picked it for you.

"yeah" you breath out, then look back up at him.

"y/n" marc says from behind you.

layla was just standing with her arms crossed, shaking her head.

"i need to talk to you. in private" he says sternly, moving to go into house room, and you follow hesitantly, leaving jake, steven, and layla behind.

marc closes the door behind you after you walk it, and you go to sit on your bed.

he sniffles and turns to you. "i'm so sorry kid.. i- i didn't mean to leave on a bad note- not that i knew that the police would take you away-"

"dad" you speak up, stopping the beginning of a rant. "i would've gone insane if i was away from you guys for another second. i should've come home.." you stand up, walking slowly to marc.

"what if.. what if i never saw you again?" you ask yourself, and marc sheds a tear.

you reach a hand up and wipe it away from his face, and he leans into your touch. "i love you so much. i would crumble and die if i never got to see your beautiful face again. you are the best daughter i could've ever asked for, i hope you know that"

you smile. "you're one of the best dads ever, and for the record i love you more"

"i love you most"

you lean forward and take marc in a hug, and he does the same, holding the back of your head gently in one of his hands.

you felt at peace.

you felt.. loved.

more than ever before. by a long shot.

deadpool had sent you a text, saying he got the police off your tail.

you didn't ask how, you were just grateful.

you left your room with marc and khonshu put your dads back into one body, and you cuddled with them alternating, and with layla on the couch.

after you changed of course.

into one of your moms shirts and stevens sweatpants.

your cats curled up near you too.

you had your whole family with you that night, and you couldn't be happier.

let's just pray once you get unsuspended you finally have a normal day at school.

with casper of course, your first love.

well, after your parents of course.

~~~

A/N : sorry this took forever, just super busy again. exams and shit. ily all so much

~~~

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[camdentown-library]

𝐀 𝐜𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟

Requested? No Summary: It's a quiet evening for you, if it weren't for an unwanted person perched on your roof Pairing: Paul x Emerson!witch!reader Genre: enemies to lovers ;; slight smut Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT swearing ;; vampires (blood, canines, bites etc..) ;; drug use ;; non-con biting ;; Words: 4k 

The darkness of the night had fallen over the Santa Carla area for a long time, while in the Emerson house the quietest silence reigned. Although that had all the air of being a rather placid summer night, there were quite different thoughts in your mind.

A good witch, even if like you a novice, she never lets her guard down and above all she has a more shrewd view of ordinary humans. From the first that you and your family set foot in Santa Carla you understood that this place had its fair share of criminals and more...

Problems obviously didn't take long to knock on your door, as Michael had apparently befriended a group of bikers for days. You always knew your brother was a jerk, even though you were younger than him, you had to act like a second mom when Lucy wasn't around. But now that he has grown up and begins to feel within himself the irreparable urge to define himself as the "alpha-boy" of the family, it has been increasingly difficult for you to be able to counter in the decisions made by him.

A striking example was when Michael took your friends to dinner at your house, when Grandpa and your mother were absent and as David and his friends approached the door, your "witch spidey sense" lit up like an alarm siren. David had asked Michael for permission to enter the house and quite frankly, it was ridiculous for a punk gangster and biker like him to ask permission to do something. Between some unfriendly looks and lots of other glaring evidence, it didn't take long to figure out that they were vampires, and as you figured it out, they sensed you weren't a normal human. Let's say that your always sitting on the sidelines on the sofa with Nanook next to you, or your exiting to your room and closing yourself all the time until you heard their bikes go away was not the utmost discretion.

However, despite your constant dissent, you understood that you would have to deal with this new reality, Michael had these new friends and this implies that they would lose your shit as long as they wanted to. Particularly Paul, oh Paul...Any god damn that hyperactive vampire! Whenever you were within two meters of him, no matter how grim and angry your gaze at him was, Paul would come to you, perch on the first thing he found and start filling you with awkward and stupid questions, until of course you yelled at Michael to drag his "friend" away from you, always having the answer "C'mon sis, have a little fun for once".

Sighing in exasperation, you pushed your long stream of consciousness away, trying to go back to reading the last pages of that novel that had so fascinated you, the last thing you wanted was for a filthy bloodsucker to fill your mind. Not a fly could be heard in the house, except from time to time Sam's soft snoring in the next room. It was just the two of you at home that night, Michael had decided to take Star somewhere, Grandpa was with the widow Johnson and your mother had gone to work and she would be back very late. You didn't like going to sleep knowing that there weren't many people in the house, it's true, Nanook was on guard, but you weren't used to this kind of routine.

Waiting for Grandpa to get home would probably be the best thing to do.

So getting more comfortable on the bed you closed the book you were reading, after reading the last paragraphs and with a slight sigh you observed the small pile of books you had bought at a stall on the Boardwalk trying to decide which one you could start reading in order to entertain yourself. somehow. As you absently studied the covers though, something knocked on your window… no indeed, it seemed as if a pigeon had crashed into it, but of course birds don't fly after dark. With every muscle in your body tense you took the courage to slowly turn to the small window on the opposite wall, expecting anything but what your eyes discovered.

"Paul?!" you said indignantly but also shocked at the same time, as you strode towards the glass wall.

The shaggy blonde-haired vampire seemed to be mumbling gibberish as he alternated with idiotic sneers. You knew it wouldn't be wise to open up, but as long as you had some telekinesis spell on your side, maybe you had some chance of pulling it away. As soon as the window sash clicked and opened revealing your nervous face, Paul looked up dreamily mumbling your name as if he had seen a goddess in front of him.

“Paul, what the fuck are you doing here?! This is my house!" you said in a low tone and with clenched teeth so as not to make noise.

"Hey, hey" the vampire said carelessly before leaning towards you "You have no idea what happened eheh"

“I don't give a fuck, Paul! You can't stay here! " you said shaking your head, then scratching the back of your neck in an exasperated way "Where is Michael? Does he know you're here?" you asked.

“Michael! Michael...? Ah yeah, Michael! Yeah yeah I know who he is! " he said, nodding quickly and then contracting his forehead in a vain attempt to think "No no, he went with Star---and I was sooo bored, because those two lovebirds made lovebirds, and David smashed our balls saying how jealous he was of those twoo---So, I went for a walk and I got a guy who gave me some weed, he said it was the best...the best of all, I swear!"

"Jesus Christ...you can’t be serious" to each word he added your face contracted into an expression more and more disgusted.

"So I got high, but you know maybe they put something stronger in the weed because---because I don't remember anything anymore, I lost David and the others and they went to eat, without me! You realize? Without me! And---And then I need you to let me in, baby, I really really need it"

"Tell me again why should I let you in, asshole?" you asked lacing your arms to your chest, while Paul made his best puppy eyes in distress.

"Because we are friends!"

“We are not friends, Paul. I barely tolerate you, you and your vampire friends just come to my house to scrounge food and annoy!" you answered indignantly, and then closed the window in his face and covered it with your colored curtain and then turned away from him.

Jesus, what the fuck! What did you do wrong to deserve this? You hated when the unexpected broke into your life without you having been able to foresee it, it made your blood boil in your veins. Bringing a couple of fingers to your temples you tried to take a sigh so as to chase away your negative energies and without thinking too much, you went down to the kitchen to make yourself a relaxing herbal tea.

Several minutes passed while you watched the cast iron teapot on the stove intent on heating the water, and even in that moment of tension the most complete silence reigned and no trace of Paul. Maybe he was gone, you thought naively. Well anyway, you couldn't help but wonder why he ever thought of going through these parts. Sighing on the stove, you concluded that it was probably just an idiotic joke and that you would later give Michael another scolding.

"I do not believe it! Do you have weed in your garden? " Paul's voice caressed your ear, while within a split second you jumped in terror.

"Whatta - STAY AWAY FROM ME!" you yelled and then shut your mouth, afraid you had woken up poor Sam. The absence of noises upstairs, however, made you realize that he was still sleeping, so you went back to Paul, who had staggered down on a chair crossing one leg over the surface of the table.

“How did you get in?! I didn't give you permission to enter! " you said angrily in a low voice, while he tilted his head in amazement at your way of carrying. In short, he was aware that the odds that you understood his true nature were high, but he certainly didn't think you were that well informed. "Well—Michael is the host, he gave me permission to enter some time ago, right?" you rolled your eyes nervously, while with the tips of your fingers you drummed on the kitchen counter.

“Read my lip carefully, fucking vampire. Get.out.of.my.house” you said slowly to make yourself understood, while Paul looked at you almost with a broken heart and then whimpered like a dissatisfied puppy.

“Oooh c’mon! You don’t play fair,why are you so prickly, baby? Don't you help a friend in difficulty?" you in return gave him a fiery look and he curled his lips and said "A friend...of your sweet big brother?" he corrected himself in a vain attempt to convince you.

"You're stoned like a cooked pear, you're not in trouble" you ascertained as you turned your back to pour the tea into a cup.

"But I have a headache!" Paul complained shaking his head and moving his hands into fists like a crybaby baby "And I haven't eaten, I'm out of strength, baby"

A fasting vampire in your house was not the best of positivity, as if that were not enough we were talking about Paul and his aura so rowdy and hyperactive about him, not to mention that he was made of weed. It wouldn't have been wise to refuse it for too long even if it weighed on you. So putting Sammy's safety and yourself first, you decided to play along with him and please him.

"You really have a big audacity to ask me for help" you muttered through clenched teeth but you knew he had heard you "Okay, I'll help you, but I want something in return" you said turning to him in a serious tone. Paul, on his side, smiled like an amused child, as he excitedly drummed his hands on his thighs.

“Oooh babe, I'll give you anything you want as soon as I get back on my feet” he whispered trying to be seductive as he got up from his chair and staggered towards you, with a look that seemed to be eating you with his eyes. But you obviously pushed him away by placing both hands on his icy chest upset with him.

"I want you not to come inside my house, never again" you replied as his heavenly eyes met yours. You seemed really decided on this choice of yours and Paul could perceive it, yet he did not understand how you could resist him, in short, he was aware of being beautiful, but despite this you seemed to repudiate his nature and everything that was part of him. But that certainly did not make him give up, on the contrary, a sly smile framed his pale face and as he dropped the weight of his body on the palms of your hands, he brought his face close to yours, giggling gloating.

"Then I have a whole night to change your mind"

"Gross..." you said and then pushed him away "Come on, I'll take you to my room" You didn't have the slightest intention of letting him stay in the living room another moment, if someone came back you would have to run into other discussions and you really didn't want that.

"Ooh let's get straight to the point, you know I thought you were a good girl, you know those girly and pure---" Paul said in a lewd tone while some words were muttered due to his intoxicated state. At that point your patience was really about to run out completely, so at a brisk pace you approached him and grabbing him by the arms, you tried to drag him with all your strength away from that chair and make him stand up.

"I swear to you that the next bullshit you shoot I'll throw one of those Evil-eyes that you will regret having to live forever" you threatened him with gritted teeth continuing to pull him, until the vampire stood up with a lightning snap to his feet, causing you to lose his balance, but obviously his cold hands grabbed you in time before you could fall with your butt on the ground. There was a really gloating expression on his face as he looked at you with the same curiosity as a cat with its new toy.

"Oooh then David had guessed it right" he commented bringing his lips to your ear "You're a witch! Aaah imagine the faces of others when they know it” he murmured with a pleased tone but that unlike what he had used up to that moment, he was far from being friendly. A shiver ran down your spine as you tried to push the vampire away from you with both hands.

"Go to my room immediately" you said, spelling out each letter as your face darkened with sudden worry. Paul now knew your secret and it was obvious that from then on the rest of his friends would find out too…sure you were good at defending yourself, but against four vampires, crazy to the core like them? No, the chances of making it were slim. All this because an idiot vampire had snuck into your house, giving you only trouble with avalanches.

Meanwhile, Paul had dropped to the ground, giggling in a pestiferous way, while she watched you turn red in the face with anger.

"You will have to take me, baby" you couldn't use telekinesis to lift it, you had never practiced that spell on human bodies, you would have only done more damage.

So, rolling up your sleeves, you grabbed both of Paul's ankles, starting to drag him with great difficulty towards the flight of stairs and every time his head touched a step, the blond moaned in pain, begging you annoyed to treat him more delicately; Obviously you weren't in the mood to listen to him further.

As soon as you were able to cross the door of your room, with tired breathing, you grabbed both of his wrists to make him stand up with the intention of putting him on your bed and then looking for a method to quickly put him back on track.

But Paul seemed to want to put a spoke in the wheel on every floor you came up with, and as if it were a huge sack of potatoes, he threw himself dead weight on your shorter, smaller body as soon as you could get him off the ground. The greater weight of his body made you stagger backwards, until the back of your knees touched your mattress wrapped in colorful blankets.

“Paul-No! You'll make me fall!" you said in a low voice even though you let out a small squeak when you found yourself lying on your bed, with the vampire's body completely buried.

The impact between the soft mattress and the blond's heavy body had left you short of breath, while your lips let out a deep sore breath.

"What the fuck!" you whispered completely nervous now, when would this nightmare ever end for you?! Squinting in an annoyed grimace, you tried to push Paul away from above you, but the only part you could still move completely were your legs, which kicked from time to time. Meanwhile, the vampire seemed as if he had fainted as the cold breath coming out of his nostrils and his lips slowly collided with the crawling skin of your neck.

"I'm so thirsty, baby" he whispered after long moments of silence, while your eyes opened in a frightened snap "I need to feed myself so much, my throat is dry just at the thought" his eyes were half closed as the fingers of his hand left stroked your side covered by your pajamas.

"Listen to me" your tone was serious, but seemed more vulnerable than you were before "I can help you, I know some spells to make you feel better, I—" your breath caught as the cold palm of that hand lifted the flaps. of the edges of your oversized shirt, revealing your belly.

"Mmmh, no. They wouldn't work right away, and I need a drink so badly, baby” his tone was as if he were tired and sleepy, but that didn't mean her body strength was failing.

You didn't want to die, you didn't want to end your life while watching a vampire greedily eat every strip of flesh. You didn't want Sam to get up on hearing your screams and find your body stripped down in your bedroom.

"Paul please" you never wanted to find yourself begging a vampire for mercy, it was really humiliating for a witch, but in that moment, the choices to survive were almost zero.

The vampire on his side smiled on your skin almost pleased, but at the same time very moved, there was something in your begging that awakened a strange fire in him that seemed to burn him alive from inside and all this made him mad.

"I won't kill you, I promise" you didn't believe him, you didn't believe him even one bit, you knew he was lying, all vampires lie. Those damned bloodsuckers have always thought only of their own advantage, why should they care about others?

Your vision became blurry due to tears, when the vampire's hand lowered the left shoulder of your shirt, so as to better show the hollow of your neck and one side of your collarbone.

"Your heart is beating so fast, baby, you have no idea how your body is inviting me" Paul's voice was more and more hoarse as he gently sniffed the sweet smell of your skin; maybe it was his state of intoxication or maybe because from the first moment he saw you he absolutely wanted to taste you, but the whole situation for him was absolutely pure ecstasy. Seeing you completely vulnerable under him, feeling your skin warm and soft under his touch, your blood pulsing fast in rhythm with your ever stronger agitation, the scent of your hair, made him not a little aroused.

"Now try to stay calm, you won't want to wake Sammy" the vampire whispered in your ear before his canines poked out of his mouth and buried deep into the flesh of your shoulder.

"Christ—" you sibled through clenched teeth in excruciating pain, while your nails dug into the shiny, black material of the vampire's leather jacket, regardless that you would likely ruin it. Your breath was stuck in your throat, except that you occasionally let out a few sobs in pain.

Meanwhile, Paul was delighted by the taste of your blood, it was so sweet and so hot, feeling it slip into his mouth made him quickly regain every fragment of strength that before he could hardly have. You were probably unable to notice it, or perhaps you didn't want to admit it, but the vampire could feel it, the warmth that gradually spread to your every limb, the inviting scent of your skin that intoxicated his senses even more than the herb, the your body wanted it, it wanted him and he just wanted a lot more, a lot more. But he knew he had to control himself, a voice inside him kept repeating quickly "don't kill her, don't kill her" and so even though reluctantly his mouth pulled away from your aching shoulder as Paul tried hard to chase his away. monstrous vampire face so as not to scare you further.

His head peeked out from the hollow of yours and slowly your faces found themselves at the same level, scrutinizing each other for a long time. The tips of your noses were a few inches apart, and Paul's tousled wheat-colored hair fell softly to the sides of your ears.

Your eyes were open with difficulty and shiny, some tears had streaked your face and gently reddened your cheeks, while your lips were parted trying to catch some breath of oxygen to breathe with difficulty. Your gaze, though not entirely clear, was looking at Paul above you, unsure of what to feel and perhaps too weak to react or think coherently. His lips were soaked with blood and a trickle was dripping from his chin, while with his tongue he tried in vain to clean himself, his celestial irises were now golden and lit like headlights, while his pupils seemed really dilated.

You feel the boy's rough thumb wipe away some tears, as he likewise accompanied a few strands of your hair, away from your face. You were so beautiful and she couldn't describe how much she wanted to kiss you and make you of him that night.

"I'm not dying, am I?" you asked in a low tone as Paul shook his head with a small, amused smile.

"Did you really think I was going to kill you?" he asked him almost sorry, while he pinched your cheek with the knuckles of his index and middle fingers, you nodded.

"Why should I have believed you, Paul?" you asked sarcastically and then contracted your eyebrows as you felt the sting of the bite in contact with the cold air. Paul took a moment to take a closer look at you, tilting his head to one side, letting the palm of his hand caress some of your little strands of hair.

"We're friends, right?" He asked rhetorically, knowing that this would make you nervous again and that made him chuckle "and I don't kill people I like"

"I doubt that a friend feeds on the other, idiot" you replied giving him a weak punch on the chest, earning only a tender look from the vampire.

"And I doubt that a girl who didn't want to be bitten by me gets so hot between her legs, mh?" he replied with an amused smirk, while you looked at him confused. "Bullshit..." you grumbled, trying to get up with your torso helping you with your elbows, but the gesture caused you a strong dizziness that made you fall back on the soft mattress "Ah-Damn, Paul! You didn't kill me, but you totally knocked me out!” you groaned in annoyance, as the distracted vampire washed the fresh blood from his mouth, rubbing her face on the sleeve of his leather jacket.

He then slowly got up from your bed, putting a hand on his side as he watched you completely vulnerable lying on the bed for him.

Mmmh, yeah. You were definitely a tasty snack from that perspective, he thought mischievously.

"Apparently now you're the one who needs help, baby" the blonde noted, while with a slight movement of the knee, he guided your legs to spread apart, while you let out an annoyed sigh. You could feel Paul kneel between them, while his hands, cold as ice, gently grasped your warm and soft thighs and his moist lips kissed the inside of one of them, making you shiver.

"Let a dear friend of yours return you the favor" he concluded amused, resting his face on your lower abdomen, before taking off your pajama shorts.

[blooming-violets]

Imminent: Part Three || TASM

Finale || TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

[A Completed Three Part Story]: [Part One] [Part Two]

Summary: Every time you close your eyes to sleep, you’re tormented by visions of future deaths. Sometimes it’s of people close to you and sometimes it’s of strangers. Yet, each time, you know it’s inevitable. There’s nothing you can do to stop death from finding their victims. But when a beautiful, sad, brown eyed man keeps pushing his way into your visions, you can’t help but try.

Warnings: violence, blood, use of knives and guns, mention of a needle 

A/N: Thanks for coming along on this weird, little ride with me. It feels nice to have an idea, write it in snippets (the lore in my head goes deep but I just did not have the time or energy to fully bring it to conception), and get it out into the world. I had fun. I hope you did too. -xoKatie

You blinked at him with disbelief, your mouth agape in shock, “You’re Spider-Man?!”

Peter’s eyes widened in shock and an impressed grin grew across his lips, “Holy shit...You really do see stuff in your dreams.” 

You sat up, your head suddenly spinning as your body tried to shake off the effects of the Ambien, and you punched his shoulder in frustration, “I thought I was the weird one! You’re Spider-Man! You’re more of a freak than me.” 

Peter held up his hands in defense, “Alright, alright. Don’t go screaming it. That defeats the purpose of secret identities.”

It was no wonder he accepted your visions so easily. He'd probably seen much crazier things than you in the past. You had about a million and ten questions buzzing around in your head for him. 

“How do you make the webs? How do you stick to walls? What’s it like to swing through the city? Who made your costume? What’s the craziest thing you ever fought? Do you really have Spidey Senses like the media says you do? How many people have you killed? Are you-”

Peter cupped his hands over you mouth to silence you, “We’re getting off track. You’re supposed to tell me how I die, remember? Do you understand why it’s so important now? If I die, Spider-Man dies. I can’t let that happen.” 

You swatted his hand away from your mouth and flopped onto your back, staring up at your ceiling. You held Spider-Man’s fate in the palm of your hands. You suddenly felt a lot more pressure than you had before. Maybe your visions weren’t such a burden after all? 

He crawled into bed beside you and stifled a yawn. The moon was high in the sky and Peter must have turned on your bedside lamp while you were dreaming for some soft light. A good few hours had passed since you had fallen asleep. You still felt tired and drugged. It was hard to formulate full thoughts. All you knew was that you had a new found desire to save Peter from his fate. 

“Do you know any shadow men?” You asked him. 

He shook his head ‘no’ and shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t think so but, this past month, I’ve felt like I’m being watched. It’s always by different people. The other day, when you said if felt like his appearance wasn’t set in stone, it got me thinking. I keep running into these weird people. The pizza man who showed up at my house, the lady I get coffee from, random people on the subway, even a cop I spoke to after catching a petty thief. I get a weird feeling when I look at them like there’s something wrong. Like they’re not who they claim to be.”

The memory of watching your own body transform into the black shadow floated through your vision. “Like they’re wearing someone else’s skin?” 

Peter shifted his head to stare across the mattress at you, “Exactly.”

“I think that’s the shadow man! That’s who kills you. In the vision, I saw myself. I stabbed you. Then I turned into the shadowy thing. It was as if he had camouflaged himself as me. Do you think he can morph into other people?” It was a strange idea but after finding out your new friend is New York’s famous hero, not much surprised you anymore. “On any other day, I’d say that sounds absolutely absurd, but I can see the future and you’re Spider-Man...so, having someone be able to disguise themselves as another person doesn’t seem that crazy of an idea at this point.”

“He can camouflage himself...like a chameleon,” Peter whispered. He suddenly sat up and looked at you with excitement. “Maybe that’s why you can’t see what he actually looks like? Because he can be anything! If he can take the shape of whoever he wants then he can be anyone when he finally kills me.” The excitement faded from his face and his smile fell as he realized what he had just said. A heavy silence fell over the room. You could see Peter’s mind working a mile a minute behind the hollow, uneasy look in his eye. He swallowed. “...Am I going to die?” His voice was nothing more a heartbroken whisper. 

The burdensome feeling of guilt settled in your stomach as you watched him finally realize the reality of his situation. This was why your grandfather didn’t want to know about his death before it happened. The knowledge carried too much weight. 

You sat up, afraid to give him false hope, but wanting to soothe his worries, “I’ve predicted a lot of death before but I’ve never predicted Spider-Man’s. If anyone can change the future, it’s you. You’re a real superhero, Peter. I’m just some recluse who drinks too much and desperately needs to sleep. Just because I never successfully saved anyone, doesn’t mean it can never happen.” You paused and let out a quiet sight, “I think after I watched my parents die, I sort of gave up. I tried to save them and I failed. Maybe I just took that at face value and assumed no one was able to be saved. Maybe I was afraid to keep failing so I just never tried.” 

How many lives had been lost because you refused to do anything? What if your visions weren’t a curse? What if they were gift and you were the one who was wasting them? Peter had been given powers and look what he used them to do. He became a hero. You became a scared, little nobody. 

Peter chewed on the inside of his lip while he got lost in his thoughts. He had gone quiet. You could tell he was building walls up around him with each passing second. The air around your bed felt thick with unsaid emotions. The finality of death and one’s own mortality hung like a cloud over your heads. 

“If I die, I need you to do something for me.” His voice cut through the silence and made you jump as you were pulled away from your own spiraling thoughts.  He reached into the back pocket of his dark, ripped jeans and handed you a folded piece of paper. “This is the name and address of my Aunt May. After I die, I need you to go to her house and tell her to look under my bed. There’s a shoe box under there. I wrote her a letter. It should be in there. I need you to make sure that she reads it.” 

You started to shake your head, trying to tell him that he wasn’t going to die, but Peter interrupted you, “No! I need you to promise me that you’ll do this. You’re the only person who will know.” He was starting to sound desperate. “She’ll be confused as to why you’re there but, promise me, that you’ll make her look under my bed. I can’t leave her in the dark. She needs to know the truth. She needs to understand. I can’t leave her alone with no answers. She doesn’t deserve that.” His voice cracked and he quickly got off the bed, turning his back to you. You could hear him try to hide a sniffle, his shoulders tensing, and he leaned against your window to stare up at the night sky. 

Tenderly, you slipped off the bed and quietly padded after him. You weren’t very good at comforting people. Taking care of others certainly wasn’t your strong suit but Peter made you push aside your own uncomfortable emotions. In five years, he was the first person you actually felt like you could trust. He was the first person you wanted to keep around. 

And soon he might be dead. 

You patted a stiff hand awkwardly against his back and cleared your throat, “I promise I’ll tell her.” You knew it wasn’t much but it was the best you could think of the help ease his pain. 

Peter looked down at you, a few tears had escaped the confines of his eyes and were rolling down his cheek, “Thank you.” He gave you a somber smile and let out a morbid, dark laugh. “I’ve been around a lot death. I thought when my time came, I’d be more content to meet it head on. Apparently I was wrong. I don’t want to die. Not yet.”

“Then don’t,” you whispered. “We can think of a plan. Let me tell you all about my vision. You can be prepared when the time comes.” 

You carefully took his hand and pulled him back to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress pressed close against his side, his hand still gripped in yours. 

“It’s starts off in a nightclub lounge...” 

Two days had past and Peter was still very much alive. 

Every evening, he’d stop by your window to check in, let you know all was well, then be off again. It felt like you were doing nothing but sitting around and waiting for a bomb to drop. Peter had been searching for the man he had dubbed The Chameleon but was coming up empty handed. It was hard to search for someone who had the ability to change their form at will. He knew to be wary of any messages depicting you captured which lured him to a nightclub. The plan was, if he received anything of the sort, he would immediately call you. If you didn’t answer your phone then he would swing by your apartment to check you were okay. If someone was posing as you, chances are, the real you would be hanging out at home without any knowledge of the impostor. Once he saw you were safe, he would enter the nightclub having the upper hand and with a new plan of attack.

Your dreams of him had stopped and had gone back to random folks in other parts of the world. You took that as a sign maybe you had already changed the future. As long as Peter knew how his death occurred, he wouldn’t do those things, and thus a change would happen. A simple butterfly effect. A small change and the entire future gets rewritten. 

“Do you think it’ll be like Final Destination?” Peter had asked one night while he devoured deli meat straight out of your fridge. “If I don’t die this time, I’ll end up fried inside of a tanning bed later on?”

You had laughed at his absurdity. You were fairly certain that wasn’t how this worked. Your mindset was changing the more you hung around him. The future wasn’t always prewritten. You alone had the power to change it. It was because of Peter you could feel a new found confidence settling in thanks to your power.

“That depends, how often do you go tanning?” 

You were beginning to have hope that maybe you could have a real future with Peter. Even if it was just as friends, you’d love to keep him your life. He was extremely intelligent and resourceful. He had spent hours one morning eagerly explaining the ins and outs of his Spider-Man costume to you. He had notebooks full of science equations you couldn’t even begin to understand and mentioned that he access to some of the top scientists while he was studying to get a doctorate in biochemistry. Peter promised that once The Chameleon was dealt with, he would do everything he could to help you learn about your powers. Even claiming that he already had a series of experiments lined up to watch your brain waves while you slept. With his presence in your life, you were starting to feel less like an outcast and more like someone with a particular gift. Maybe you and Spider-Man could even team up some day. You could tell him who needed saving and he could be the hero. 

Having a friend felt warm and hopeful. 

The familiar buzz rang out through your apartment indicating someone was waiting down at the front door for you. You hadn’t ordered any food recently and it wasn’t like you had many friends besides Peter who sprung by for unannounced visits. There had been times people had buzzed your room by mistake. You wouldn’t be surprised if this was one of those times. 

You hit the button to talk, “If you’re looking for Mrs. Gratey, she’s the button above mine.”

Peter’s voice echoed through the speaker, “Hey! It’s me. Can I come in?” 

“Oh...yeah, sure.” You pressed the button to unlock to front door. You had gotten so used to him showing up at the window that you hadn’t expected him to use the door like a civilized human. He was also a few hours earlier than he normally showed up. Peter usually liked to time his arrival right as the sun was beginning to set. 

You waited until you heard the knock on your apartment door before opening it with a smile, “Hi, you’re early. Did you get sick of window hopping and finally decide to try the elevator?” 

Peter stepped inside and smiled back with a shrug, “There were too many people around. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by climbing up the side of a wall today.” 

“Well, I’m glad you got the elevator experience then. I was just finishing up the laundry. Mind if I fold clothes while you’re here?” You wandered into your bedroom where a pile of half folded clothes lay scattered over your bed. He followed behind you, clearly opting to skip his typical fridge raid this afternoon. 

“I won’t be here for long. I have a favor to ask,” he leaned against the end of your bed and bounced on the balls of his feet like he was anxious about something. 

You picked up some leggings and started to fold them, giving him an expecting look. He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out his smashed phone. The screen was completely unusable as it was filled with a spider web of thick, white cracks. You let out a low whistle, “Damn. What, did you throw it off the Empire State Building?”

Peter chuckled, “Something like that. It slipped out of my pocket about 50 stories up. Do you think I could borrow yours? Just for tonight! I’ll swing it back before sunrise.” 

“What does Spider-Man need a phone for?” You asked him. You placed the folded leggings down and picked up a shirt. Something in your stomach flipped and you carefully studied his face while you mindlessly worked. 

He chucked again, his smile not quite reaching not eyes, “I’ve almost figured this case out. I need the gps and to make a few calls. I promise I won’t drop yours. Please. Just for a few hours.”

You chewed on your bottom lip. Anxiety stirred in your stomach as you looked over his face. Something seemed off. His eyes were different. Darker. They lacked the warmth and safety you usually felt when you looked in them. If you gave him your phone, you’d be left without a means of communication. You didn’t think Peter would ask that of you especially with what he knew was coming. 

“Yeah, sure, of course.” You muttered. You shuffled over to your bedside table, keeping him in your sights, and grabbed it from the charger. Alarm bells were ringing in your ears, yelling at you to not hand over your phone. Peter never used the front door...

He smiled. It was a little too wide, a little too toothy. You held your phone tighter in your hand and cleared your throat. 

“Hey, remember the night we met?” You asked him, trying to keep your voice light. “I was coming out of the bookstore and you bumped into me? You said you were interested in that book I had bought. I finished it if you’d like to give it a go.” You subtly ran your thumb across the lock screen to your phone and tried to search for Peter’s name without shifting your eyes downwards too draw attention to the act. 

Peter raised his eyebrows and nodded, “Oh? Yeah, that’s right. That’d be awesome. After this is over, I’d love to read it. I’m really busy tonight though. Can I just have your phone and I’ll be out of your hair?”

This was not Peter Parker. 

Despite trying to keep your face neutral, both you and the impostor Peter realized the truth at the same time. He dove for your phone just as you leap onto the bed to escape his reach. 

He grabbed at your ankle, pulling you back towards him, “You bitch!” His voice shifted between Peter’s cool tones and that deepness of the shadow man.  

“Peter and I met at a bar, you fucker!” You rolled onto your back, your freshly folded clothes flying to the ground, and aimed a kick directly at your friends face. The moment your foot made contact, Peter’s face disappeared into a puff of black smoke and congealed as a white, skull-like, nearly featureless face. You recoiled back in disgust. “Get away from me, you Voldemort looking freak!” You had the sudden realization that if this man actually captured you, Peter was not going to believe it was the real you. He was going to think you were the fake. 

You had to warn him.

You aimed another kick at Chameleon and rolled off the other side of the bed, sinking to the ground and hitting Peter’s contact. As you heard your intruder stomp around the edge of the bed, you quickly flattened yourself and shuffled underneath it, holding the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?” Peter answered. 

“Peter!” You screamed. “My vision! I think it’s changing! He’s in my apartment. He disguised himself like you. He’s trying to-” You’re cut shot as an arm reached under the bed and pulled you out. “It’s not going to be a fake! It’s me! It’s really me, Peter!” 

Chameleon kicked the phone out of your hand and crunched it under his foot. He leaned down to sneer at you with a lipless grin, “Nighty night, sweetheart.” He pulled a needle from his pocket and injected it into your squirming body. 

Almost immediately, you felt the blackness take you. 

The thick smell of cigars and alcohol filled your nose. 

You forced your heavy eyes to open. You had been here before. You recognized the smell but it wasn’t the familiar, open room you had been in previously. It was dark and small. Probably a closet. 

Hefty ropes tangled around your body. The more you tried to struggle against them, the tighter they felt. You were trapped. 

Except that you weren’t really here. 

No. No, this wasn’t happening. Not yet. 

This was a vision. You could feel it. If it was vision, you weren’t really trapped. The ropes weren’t real. This is a dream. You’re dreaming. You were in control. You tried to focus your breathing.

Slowly, you lifted your arm away from your side. Then the other. You shook out your legs. The ropes no longer existed to restrain you. You pushed yourself to your feet and felt around the dark room for the door. The second your hand collided with the handle, you pushed open the door and stumbled into the room with the neon purple lights. 

It was quiet except for the two men standing in front of the bar. One of them was the round, red faced man you saw die in a vision previously and, the other, was Chameleon. His bald, skull-like head contrasted against his nicely tailored blue suit. He was tapping his pale white fingers against the bar while his sidekick spoke.

“But Spider-Man is so strong. How are you going to overpower him? I’ve seen him dodge bullets easily. I think you might be underestimating his abilities, sir. He’s got-”

“Shut up, Harold.” Chameleon commanded. “I told you. I have a plan.”

The last time you witnessed this, he had put a bullet through Harold’s skull right then. Peter’s death wasn’t the only thing that was changing. 

Chameleon pointed towards the closet you had come out of, “We have the girl. Spider-Man is going to come save his damsel in distress and we’ll kill him.” 

The small man, who was apparently named Harold, took a nervous breath, “Yes but, sir? I still don’t see how this will help. Who’s to say he won’t save her and kill us in the process?” 

Chameleon took a deep, annoyed breath. Harold had no idea how close to death he was skirting right now. “I told you. The girl is knocked out and hidden away. She already called him. He knows about me and what I can do. He’s not going to believe that it was really her at first. I bet, he’ll swing his way over to her apartment to double check that she’s alright. When he gets there, he’s going to see the struggle that went down. I made sure to leave him a nice pool of her blood for good measure. He’ll realize it was actually her in trouble and run his sorry, little ass over here to come rescue her.” 

He tapped his knuckles against the bar and gave a wicked smile. “When he gets here, I’ll transform myself into her. He’ll crawl in, expecting me to be the real her, come to my rescue instead...and bam! I stab him with the paralyzing agent. Once he’s lost control of his extremities. He’ll be easy to overtake. Harry Osborn’s theory is that his famous Spidey Senses are dulled when he’s around people he trusts. He won’t expect the knife coming from her.” 

Harold wrung his hands together and glanced towards the closet your body was supposed to be hidden behind, “What if she gets out?” 

“You tied her down and gagged her, didn’t you? She shouldn’t make any noise. When we’re done with Spider-Man, we can kill her too. He should be here any minute now. Get upstairs before you fuck up my plans and keep a low profile.” Chameleon watched Harold with a look of utter disdain as he scampered out of the room and up the stairs. 

He walked over to the closet and pulled it open. Inside, your unconscious body lay slumped against the wall. A large cut ran over your eyebrow and drying blood caked the right half of your face. He tilted your chin to study your appearance. When he turned back around, he now resembled an exact replica of you, down to the bleeding wound on your forehead. He closed the closet door, patted at the knife hidden in his back pocket, walked over to the front of the bar and draped himself over the floor. He stayed perfectly motionless as if he had been hastily dumped there. 

Just a few moments later, Spider-Man came crawling across the ceiling towards, what he presumed to be, your unconscious body. 

No, no, no, no. In trying to help Peter, you had effectively put him straight back into danger. The future might have changed slightly but the result was still going to be the same. 

“That’s not me!” You screamed at him as he crawled closer to Chameleon. “I’m in the closet! That’s not the real me!” 

Peter paused. His masked head turned towards your cries just as he had in visions previously. It was like he could still sense you there. Yet, just like before, he shook his head and ignored whatever he thought he heard. 

He called out your name once he had crawled directly over the fake you. Chameleon moaned and rolled onto his back, “...Peter?” He sounded weak and shockingly like you. It was uncanny to see someone else wearing you skin and stealing your voice. “Peter...he showed up at my window. He was disguised at you. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” He forced himself to sit up, placing a hand limply over the cut on his forehead as if it was causing him great pain. Tears even brimmed behind his, well your, eyes. “He’s going to come back soon. Please. Help me.”

You had to give it to him. He was good at what he did. If you hadn’t witnessed everything prior, you might even be convinced that it was actually you. Peter didn’t leave his spot on the ceiling. 

“Prove it,” he growled. 

You silently cursed yourself that you and Peter hadn’t thought of a code word before all this to help recognize each other. It would have saved you both a lot of trouble. 

Chameleon frowned, “Don’t you recognize me, Peter?” 

He shook his masked head, “Prove it!”

“Okay, okay!” His voice had gone shrill exactly like yours did when you were getting too stressed. “We met a bar, remember? You always use my window to get inside. You never use the elevator even though I told you that you should. You like to come over later in the evening after the sun has set.” 

You took an inhale of breath. He had managed to pick all that up in the few seconds you were alone together. He was smart. Observant. 

But Peter was smarter, “Shut up for a second.” 

His held tilted like he was picking up something only he could hear. He turned to stare directly at the closet your body was inside of. Your heart skipped a beat. 

Yes, yes go to the closet. That’s where I am.

You watched Chameleon’s eye twitch in rage and he staggered to his feet, still keeping up the pained, hopeless tone in your voice, “Peter? We should get going. Quickly. He’s coming back soon.”

Peter ignored him, crawling quickly over to the closet. He dropped to his feet and pulled open the door. You heard his breath catch in his throat when he saw your bloody face and ropes tied around your unconscious body. He ripped his mask off to get a better look at you, bent forward, and easily loosened he ropes from around you. He called out your name as he gently tried to shake you awake. 

He wasn’t paying attention. 

He was distracted. 

Chameleon had shifted back into his normal form. He was quietly stalking over to Peter, the knife raised in his hand, the purple glow of the lights reflecting off the shiny blade. 

“No!” You screamed. 

He turned around at the last second but it was too late. The knife buried into the front of his shoulder. 

Chameleon laughed. 

You watched in horror as the paralyzing agent quickly flowed through his blood stream. His body twitched and jerked, desperately trying to move and fight through the drugs, but ultimately he slumped to the floor in front of your unconscious body tucked away inside the closet. 

“Bet you weren’t expecting that, Spidey,” he boasted.

Chameleon descended over the hero. His large, white hand grabbing at his chest and tossing his across the room with an unfound feat of strength. 

“I can be anyone!” He yelled. “I can be the strongest man alive. I can pick you up with ease and toss you around like a rag doll.” The muscles in his arm grew, ripping through his suit, and he grabbed Peter by the neck. He lifted him into the air so his toes were scarcely scraping against the ground. Peter’s warm, velvet eyes bulged out of his head as he gasped for air. His arms twitched at his sides in a rash attempt to reach for his tormentor but remained useless to him. 

The little spasms of his limbs didn’t phase Chameleon as he continued to taunt your friend, “I can be anyone.” He threw Peter across the room, his body crashing into the back wall of alcohol behind the bar. The glass shattered, cutting his skin, and he let out a pained yell as the alcohol seeped into the fresh wounds. “Anyone! Should I be your dead mother?” 

Chameleon’s form shifted into a brown haired, kind looking woman. She sauntered over to Peter as he stared up at her in horror. “What about your sweet, old aunt?” He changed again into a frail, tired, but charming woman. “Or how about your dead Uncle Ben?” He shifted once more into a gentle, white haired man. 

Peter let out an angry scream. He struggled against the paralysis. You could see his arms start to move. His legs gave out a little kick. His anger was fueling him to overpower the drugs in his system. 

Chameleon hardly noticed. He was too busy enjoying the torment. The foot of Peter’s uncle reared back and kicked him hard in the face. Over and over. Blood spurted from Peter’s mouth as he tried to roll away. The second he moved, Chameleon resorted to kicking him in the chest until he was curled up into the fetal position surrounded by a growing pool of his own blood. 

“How about the big finale?” His form shifted once more into a young, beautiful, blonde hair woman. “Mr. Osborne told me this would be the real kicker. To be killed by the one you let die. What was her name again? Future scientist, Ms. Gwen Stacey?” 

A pained whimper fell from his lips. You watched as Peter’s eye filled with tears at the woman standing above him. He slumped onto his back, the tears rolling freely down his temple and soaking into his sweaty hair. 

His body was beaten and broken. All his fight had left him at the sight of this woman...Gwen. His bottom lip quivered. 

He was giving up. 

His slashed open face leaked a waterfall of thick, ruby blood down over his skin. His mouth agape. Gasping. Desperately inhaling for any air to soothe his shriveled lungs. Tears reflect the purple neon lights casting an eerie glow over his paling skin. His body slumped to a rest. There was no more fight left him. His head lolled to the side. His eyes met with yours. Pleading. He was fading fast and somehow he was able to see you standing there watching him about to die just as you had done many times before. 

“Help me,” he mouthed as the blonde woman stepped over him. 

A gun pressed against Peter’s forehead. His spirit broken. He didn’t move to stop it.

This was it.

This was his end.

“No!” The scream ripped out of you. 

Your eyes flung open. 

The pile of ropes lay pooled around your waist. The closet door was open. You could hear the fight going on outside. 

You struggled to your side, shimmying your way out of the ropes, and fell out the open door into the main lounge. You rolled onto your back and pushed yourself up to your shaky feet. 

Your eyesight was spinning as you tried to fight the drugs Chameleon had injected you with to knock you out. You stumbled forward. 

The blonde woman, Gwen, was standing over Peter. She had a gun in her hand. You had just seen this exact scene mere seconds ago. This was all so familiar like terrible deja vu. You shook your head to clear your thoughts. It was hard to distinguish between reality and your dreams. For almost two weeks, you had seen this play out. Two weeks you had watched different variations of Peter’s death. 

Now was the time. This was real. 

It was happening. 

You had to change Peter’s future. 

As the barrel of the gun rested against his head, you charged forward. You threw the entire weight of your body against Chameleon. He was disguised as the young, teen girl. She was skinny and small. Easy to overtake. The two of you toppled to the ground just as the gun went off. The bullet ricocheting off the hardwood floor and shattering into a light bulb. 

Chameleon let out an angry yell, his body changing back into his featureless white skull, “You little shit!” He wrapped his arms around your waist and threw you hard onto your back. The back of your head bounced against the floor and blurry stars burst into your vision. “I’m going to fucking kill you for that!”

He fell on top of you, big, cold hands wrapping around your neck, his thumbs pressing hard into your throat. You tried to grab at his suit, punch him, hit him, anything in an attempt to get your off but he was too strong. 

Suddenly, he froze. His hands loosened around your neck and you gasped for air.

“Get off of her,” a deadly voice filled the room. 

Chameleon gave a low laugh of defeat as the barrel of his own gun was pressed against the back of his head, “I see the Spider-Man is stronger than he looks.”

“Back up slowly,” Peter commanded. 

Chameleon did as he was told, raising his hands in surrender, and backing away from you. You stayed still on the ground, not sure if you could even move if wanted to while you tried to catch your breath, and watched Peter keep the gun pointed at his foe. “Stand against the wall. I called the cops before I came here. They should be arriving soon to take you away.” 

Chameleon pressed his back to the wall and Peter proceeded to shower him with flurry of webs until he was completely satisfied there was no way for him to escape. Once he was sure the man was secure, Peter dropped the gun. He stumbled backwards into the edge of bar and crumpled to the ground. A quiet groan fell from his bloody, split lips. 

You struggled to roll over and crawled to him. His eyes were closed but a fraction of a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. You brushed back his hair and rested your hands on either side of his face to turn his attention to you. 

“Peter?” You whispered. 

He smiled, his eyes half open, “You did it. You saved me.” 

The linger effects of paralysis were still coursing through his blood stream. Now that his adrenaline was wearing off, it was becoming harder for him to move again. His overpowering will to fight it was no longer needed now that you were both safe. He slumped his body against your chest and you cradled his head protectively to your shoulder.

“You should go.” He muttered. “The police will be here soon. They’ll want to bring you in. Question you. I don’t want that. You should leave before they get here. I’ll keep an eye on this asshole.”  

“What about you?” You asked.

He lifted his heavy head and rested his forehead to yours, “I’m Spider-Man. They see me all the time. Don’t worry about me. If you could put my mask on before you leave, thought, that would be a big help.” 

You closed your eyes at his closeness and nodded, “I think we make me pretty good team.” It felt so right having him in your arms like he was destined to be there all along. 

He gave a breathy, tired laugh, “The best team. If I could move my arms, I think I’d pull you in for a kiss right about now.”

Your stomach exploded with butterflies. You cupped his bloody cheeks in your hands and placed a soft kiss to his lips, afraid to cause him any more pain than he was already in. 

“Mm,” he hummed against your mouth. “That was nice. Now go get my mask mask and get out of here. I’ll come find you once I’m able to move my limbs again and see that this jerk is placed behind bars.” 

You did as he said, grabbing his mask and carefully placing it over his broken face. He nodded a thanks and you felt his watchful, protective eyes stay on you until you had disappeared up the stairs. 

Peter was safe. 

You had saved him. 

You had changed his future. 

Spider-Man was no longer the only hero New York City had to offer. 

Reread from the start: [Part One] [Part Two]

Tag List: @ongreenergrasses  @captaindanvxrs @liz-allyn @coolchick333 @mrshipsmcgee  @holyheadharpies99 @aphrodites-perfume @agnesamarantheastwood​ @todaywasafairytale07 @edgycatx @kdatthecastle @aestheticpisces @malar-region @saltedcoffeescotch​ @magnitude101999​

[Chapter Index]

[cblgblog]

So my issues with Irondad are well documented at this point, starting from their very first scenes. Specifically the utter tone deafness of Peter’s recruitment, by both Tony and the writers. Tony starts the movie being blamed for the death of a 20-year-old kid who was in the wrong place, wrong time in Sokovia. That accidental death that can be put down to negligence on his part, is pivotal to what happens next. So pivotal he uses it in his pitch for why the other Avengers need to sign the Accords.

Tony, midway through the movie, deliberately brings a 15-year-old child into this conflict. A child he blackmails into going with him, because if you don’t, I will tell your aunt.

Charles Spencer was an innocent civilian, wrong place, wrong time in Sokovia. He died. That tears Tony up, as it rightfully should. And yet, in the midst of his crusade about following laws and accountability, he lies to May Parker about taking her 15-year-old nephew out of the country and into a warzone. Ignoring some well-established laws about child soldiers.

Tony blackmailing a child who’s had his powers for 6 months into participating in this conflict makes no sense. Ever. It especially makes no sense in the context of Charles Spencer and his mother. Yet neither Tony nor the writers seem to comprehend this. Which is why Irondad has been bullshit from the start. Blackmail and kidnapping are not sweet, father-son moments, even if you ignore the fact, as the MCU wants to, that Peter had a father already, in Ben Parker. He has a loving adult parental figure in May Parker. Both of whom cared about him before he had spider powers that might be helpful to them.

All of this, I’ve said before, so have others. And then I realized that I actually hate Irondad more than I thought. That Feige and co. mishandled it even more than I thought, and why? Because of this.

We know the story. Peter was, supposedly, this kid Tony saved at the Stark Expo in Iron Man 2. Started out as a fan theory, and then was confirmed that yes, this is true, this is exactly what we intended.

Now, we know Civil War had different writers/directors than Homecoming or FFH did. We also know that, for all the lip service of, ‘It’s all connected,’ we know that the creatives in these different franchises do not always talk to each other, and that they often blatantly contradict each other.

Taking all that into account, acknowledging that…the dumbasses at Marvel did not think up the idea of Peter being the Iron Man 2 kid. They heard the theory, thought it was cool, then took credit for having meant that the entire time, yes, that was totally us.

We know this because it is never mentioned in canon. All those Tony and Peter interactions, all those times of yes, Mr. Stark, I just want to be like you, Mr. Stark, and Peter never mentions that? When Tony takes he suit from him in Homecoming and Peter says that he just wants another chance, wants to be like Tony, would he not mention that hey, you saved my life, Mr. Stark. You saved my life and I just wanted to be like you, and now I can be, now I can save lives like you, just please give me another chance.

If the Iron Man 2 theory were true, would he not say that? In FFH, when he’s all guilt-ridden, I didn’t save him, would he not mention that hey, he saved my life before I was Spider-man, before I was special, before I was anyone?

Now I know what you’re thinking. The Iron Man 2 thing isn’t that big a deal. It’s not a crucial thing. And you know what, you’re right. It isn’t, it’s just always annoyed me, in an eyeroll way, that the same people who couldn’t count properly between 2012 and 2017 (8 years later flashing in giant letters across our screens means that Homecoming was meant to take place in 2020), that these same people who let something so blatantly timeline breaking get through then took credit for a kind of cool, kind of clever fan theory. It’s annoying.

I’ve now realized, however, that it is far more than annoying to me. Because TPTB at Marvel did not think of that idea for themselves, but if they had, and if they’d run with that idea? If they had, it would’ve made Peter’s recruitment in Civil War so much more fucked up than it already is, but so much more interesting. So, so, so much more interesting.

I’ve talked about why Spidey’s own movies (as much as you can call them that given the level of Tony infiltration) prove that the theory isn’t true. Now let’s go to Civil War. Different writers, yes, but let’s talk anyway about why we can tell from CW that Peter was not that kid.

He gets home. May is like, look who it is, Tony Stark. Not, look who it is, the hero who literally saved your life. When Tony locks himself in Peter’s room with him (still fucking gross, Jesus Christ), Peter is just, nope, I got no idea what you’re talking about. That’s—no, I’m not a superhero, no. He’s defensive. He’s apprehensive. He’s trying to figure out what fresh hell this is. He’s trying to hide stuff from Tony. If this is the guy who saved him at the Stark Expo, why this reaction? Why not, oh my god, you saved my life, I thought I’d never see you again, not, not up close I mean. When Tony asks him to do a thing, why is it not, well yeah, duh , you saved my life, where do we start? Or even, okay, I don’t really wanna do this, but, you saved my life, I owe you?

So, nobody wrote a fucking word of any of Peter and Tony’s interactions under the theory that he was the Stark Expo kid.

But what if they had?

Tony shows up at May’s place. He does not know who Peter is, in relation to their “meeting” before. He’s expecting to have to do some level of smooth talk to get in here but, nope. May’s just, oh my god, you saved my boy’s life, come in, come in!

We don’t know for sure that Peter was orphaned by the time of the Expo, but if we base it on comics and prior films, he likely was. Most versions seem to have him fall under Ben and May’s care between 2 and 6.  O1’ birthday means he would’ve been around 9 at the Expo. So, more than likely, Ben or May or both were the ones there with him. They may credit Tony with saving their lives as well.

So, Tony starts the movie being called out by a grieving mother. Going down this route, we’re at the midpoint…and here’s a different mother telling him how great he is. How he saved the most important thing in her life. How if Ben were here (May’s wearing her wedding ring around her neck btw, you can see it in the scene), Ben would say the same thing. Shake his hand. Hug him.

Now, Tony’s got a sharp ass mind, when it’s not clouded with booze or drugs or the like. Since he wasn’t wasted at the Expo, there’s a good chance that, given some details, he remembers saving this kid. He remembers how small this little boy actually was. He remembers how light this kid was when he grabbed him. It was a few seconds in a long ass night, that he hasn’t thought about in years, but to May Parker, it’s everything.

So maybe at this point Tony’s rethinking this. He’s remembering that little boy, realizing how young he still is. He pulled that boy from danger. And now here’s this woman who invited him into her house, told him how her husband just passed recently, things have been hard, especially for Peter but God, he’ll love to see you. Maybe Tony’s rethinking this, coming up with a way out, when Peter shows up. And then, aw hell. The kid’s just a mess of excitement and shock, possibly tears…okay now it’s just gotten harder to make an exit.

Let’s pause here to say that May Parker is not fucking dumb (“Cut the bullshit. I know you left detention. I know you left the hotel room in Washington. I know you sneak out of this house every night.”).

May is not dumb. Letting the 50-year-old dude go into her nephew’s room with him, alone? Arguably dumb, even if it is Iron Man. Letting him grab the kid for some Stark…thing, and take him wherever Tony said he was taking him on 12 seconds notice? Even more arguably dumb.  CW as it’s written dumbs down May’s character for the sake of an already questionable plot point. Especially since she literally says she’s not a fan of Tony in Homecoming. Yes, her comment there comes after the “internship,” her noting Peter’s distraction and stress because of it. But still, it’s fucking weird that she’d let this man take her kid out of the country, alone, in CW. It makes her dumb for the sake of plot.

But if Stark saved Peter’s life not so long ago? It at least makes a bit more sense. He’s a hero. Peter literally wouldn’t be here without him. Why would Tony hurt him now?

So, back to the scene. Peter’s probably less paranoid about showing his stuff to Tony. Probably not spilling everything himself, but when Tony notices things, Peter’s probably less panicked over it, more willing to confirm. Yes, he’s got these powers, okay? And he hasn’t had them for long, but he’s trying to do good, like Tony. He’s trying to do the right thing, like Tony.

Now, this kid has such literal hero worship going, and he’s so damn inexperienced, he admits that. And Tony’s still got Charles Spencer’s mom in his head. He’s dead, Stark. And I blame you.

Can Tony really take this kid—actual minor kid younger than Charles was—take him and put him on the field against the goddamn Avengers? That woman out there with the dead husband and the ring around her neck, what’s he going to say if Peter gets hurt, or worse? Sure the kid obviously has skills but, can he risk another grieving mom?

So, maybe Tony’s rethinking this. Maybe he can still get out of this, improvise a Plan B. But then there’s a text from Nat or Ross. Where are you? We’ve only got a few hours, what’s the play?

Special circumstances, nobody in that group is really gonna fight to kill…it’s special circumstances, and he can keep the kid mostly sidelined.

This time, he doesn’t have to blackmail Peter. He doesn’t have to threaten to expose his secret. Peter’s willing, either because he genuinely wants to, or he feels he owes Tony a debt. So there goes the dick factor of Tony literally blackmailing a child. And the lack of questions Peter seems to ask about what he’s fighting for, the acceptance of vague answers, that’d also make more sense in this context.

In this version, Tony is both more and less of a dick. He’s doing less active threatening and manipulation…but he’s also being doubly manipulative. His genuinely good deed gives him an easy in with the Parkers. He’s playing on the credibility of an earlier, at least somewhat better version of himself. One who saved Peter Parker and hadn’t yet ended Charles Spencer.

Look, I won’t lie, I legit don’t know what I’m saying anymore, except that Marvel sucks for taking credit for a thing that they definitely do not have credit for. Which isn’t particularly new for them, and wouldn’t particularly matter if the thing they took credit for (and didn’t do anything with) could’ve offered some interesting story possibilities.

[the-mad-starker]

VenStarker Fic: Wires Crossed

For the Venom-X-Change-2020 event on AO3. This fic was written for @zsparz​ 💗

Length: 7292

Summary: Peter was hopelessly in love with a Tony Stark who kept him at arm's length. The reasons why are not what he expected at all.

Notes: canon divergence (venom symbiote bonded with Tony), tentacles, love confessions, idiots in love, first time, rimming, anal sex, size kink, lots and lots of tentacles

AO3 LINK

💗💗💗

There was always something different about Tony Stark. Peter knew it. The rest of the world knew it. It was his genius, his cleverness… a million and one qualities that just set him apart from the rest.

It was a fact that was harmless enough but to Peter, it took a whole other meaning when they met. The shortness of his breath rivaled the sheer excitement he felt upon seeing the older man sitting there, that familiar but foreign smirk on his face.

"Mr. Stark–" One step forward and Peter's spidey senses shot through his body in a flood of dangerdangerdanger. His knees went weak but one sticky hand on the wall kept him from buckling.

"You okay, Mr. Parker?" Mr. Stark accessed him, eyes roaming, while May's eyebrows shot up.

"Yeah, I'm– I'm alright," Peter stuttered as he fought to get his screaming senses to calm down. "Just really… Hungry. I haven't eaten since breakfast. Skipped lunch cause– you know."

It was a weak excuse but they were strangers so he didn't expect Stark to really question it. 

Mr. Stark didn't buy it and something flickered in his eyes… Concern? The older man stood and May followed, worried.

He needed to get himself under control. He was still relatively new to his superpowers so– what the fuck.

Suddenly, Peter could breathe again. As suddenly as it had come, his spidey senses went silent as though nothing was wrong. Was it a fluke? He still wasn't used to all the weird things his body was going through. Doubt and uncertainty was a familiar feeling as he filed away the anomaly for another time.

A gentle but firm hand landed on his shoulder and his heart jumped, startling him back to his meeting with his favorite hero. 

Their eyes met and the telltale signs of Peter's silly crush became evident. Heart pounding, breath shallow, and warmth infused in his cheeks. Looking into those sharp brown eyes, Peter felt… dazed?

"How about we talk in your room, Mr. Parker?" Mr. Stark suggested.

"I'll get dinner started," May offered, "If you want to join us, Mr. Stark?"

The older man gave a warm smile but shook his head. "I don't want to intrude and I'm sure you guys will have a lot to talk about after I leave."

May looked relieved but Peter knew it was only because she felt pressured to cook a decent dinner if Mr. Stark was staying.

"Mr. Parker," Mr. Stark encouraged him with a squeeze of his fingers, "if you'll lead the way."

"Congratulations on the internship, Pete," May added as he and Mr. Stark walked to his room.

Internship?

Peter didn't say a thing and he didn't need to because as soon as the door closed, Mr. Stark spoke.

"So, Spider-Man, what happened out there?"

Peter looked at him, wide-eyed and ready to deny it. It was futile, of course. Tony got him to confess his identity as Spider-man but as he watched the older man drive off, he didn't think it went too badly.

--

What Peter hoped to happen and what actually happened are two different things.

Maybe it was his silly crush on the older man, but when Tony Stark personally came to recruit him, he thought they'd actually spend time together. Not that they didn't spend time together but it was so much less than he wanted.

Not to mention that there was this thing that Tony did. It was a thing Peter hated and wanted so desperately to break through but he just didn't know how.

Tony kept him at arm's length. They spent a god-awful amount of time in the lab together and yeah, there were moments where he felt like they really connected but then Tony would reset the next day.

Peter was just his official intern. Kept at a distance. Tony wasn't so formal that he didn't joke or put on any airs but there was this barrier that meant their friendship could only go so far. He was polite in a Tony kind of way but he never took that next step that would deepen whatever it was between them.

At first, Peter was so sure that it was because his crush on the older man was that embarrassingly obvious. Why else would Tony act the way he did? And the thought plagued the younger man because he tried to be professional while being friendly but things just seemed so tangled and impossible.

Maybe, he just needed a chance, he had thought to himself. So he tried and his fumbled attempts at flirting seemed to make the other man smile. But then that thing happened and it was back to square one.

Maybe after some thought… Maybe Tony was uncomfortable with all the attempts Peter made to show his interest? But that was before he had gotten the hint that Tony wasn't interested… Maybe Peter was flirting without meaning to?

They just got along so well that these teasing little banters would start between them and Peter could swear that the older man was interested. But what did he know? He wasn't experienced in that kind of thing and as much as he wanted to rectify that, his heart was set on Tony.

Peter sighed as he entered his bedroom. His bag, filled to the brim with notebooks and books, was tossed carelessly to the side. He was ready to clock out and take a nice little nap until he went on patrol later in the evening. 

His eyes were already drooping closed when his phone buzzed with an incoming message. He checked it more out of habit than actual desire.

Come over.

Peter's eyes shot open. 

The message was from Mr. Stark and like many of his previous messages, they didn't really give him any more info beyond that. And he knew from prior experience that shooting off a "what's up?" Or "??" wouldn't get him an answer either.

If Peter was busy, he wouldn't go. Tony probably just assumed that was the case during the times his mentee didn't pop up. More often than not, Peter was able to make it though.

This time… He didn't even have to think about it. His fatigue evaporated, mind and body invigorated by the thought of spending some time with Tony.

Maybe it was a little sad that he was so eager for the older man's company but he couldn't help being opportunistic. To feel better about it, Peter took a few minutes to shower and change into something more comfortable. 

From Queens to the city, the time passed quickly. It only felt like a couple of minutes had passed by the time he was in the elevator and FRIDAY was directing him to Tony's experimental labs.

When the doors opened, he knew something was wrong. First off, Tony's favorite brand of music wasn't being blasted off the speakers. It was quiet enough that Peter could hear his steps as he walked further into the labs.

But then, there was a mounting sense of urgency growing in the pit of his stomach. It was a peculiar sensation, one that confused him because it felt like his spider senses were trying to warn him but… why would it do that here?

Peter hurried, making sure to keep his steps light just in case there really was a problem.

Then he caught sight of his mentor. Tony was standing in front of his array of holograms, hands planted firmly on the tabletop and leaning forwards. His head hung loosely between his shoulders with the shadows blurring his eyes.

On the main screen, there was some sort of formula being constructed but Peter barely noticed. That was because his entire attention was on the black fluid-like substance that was steadily seeping from Tony's back.

His breath caught and for a split second, he felt like he was in some sort of horror show. Peter could only watch as more and more of that inky darkness flowed over his mentor's trembling body. 

He would've rushed to his side but then his ears caught these sounds that Tony was making– Oh, God… Those weren't the kinda sounds someone would make if they were in pain. That sounded like– His ears turned red, heat mixing in with adrenaline as he stared and stared.

It was… hypnotic. It should've been frightening because what the fuck was that but… Detached from that sense of horror, what he was seeing was almost beautiful. The darkness spilled out, gleaming and reflecting light as it arched all around his mentor. It looked like it was forming a protective cocoon that, strangely enough, gave the impression of possessiveness.

The thing that made Peter take action though was that there was too much of it. It seemed like an endless supply of black kept seeping out of Tony's body and it was simply engulfing him.

No matter how beautiful it looked, Peter couldn't help gasping out his name.

"Mr. Stark…!"

Tony's head jerked towards him, surprised. The brown of his eyes were thin discs, pupils dilated.

All at once, that black cloud rushed back inside the older man as though being sucked in by a vortex. It happened so quickly, surprising the both of them that Peter barely had time to react when Tony dropped to his knees.

Peter was by his side in an instant, eyes rushing over his mentor's body to find any injuries, any anomalies. All the while, his brain was trying to make sense of what the fuck just happened.

"Kid…" Tony mumbled. He was crouched, one knee pressed to his chest and his head tipped down. There was sweat on his brow and his shoulder felt hot beneath Peter's palm.

"Are you okay, sir?" Peter asked. His voice sounded high-pitched to his own ears, just short of panic. "Wha–What was that?"

Tony looked up and there was a glassy sheen to his eyes. Combined with the fever, Peter came to a quick conclusion.

"Were you drugged, Mr. Stark?" He asked, trying to see what other damage had been done. "Should I call 9-1-1? Friday?"

"Kid– Peter," Tony tried to get his attention. Some of the fogginess seemed to recede but it still wasn't enough for Peter. "I know what it was."

Their contrasting reactions to the situation were just so bizarre that Peter was finding it hard to rationalize. But Tony had been an Avenger and a hero much longer than Peter so maybe dealing with stuff like this was just so typical.

"What was it?" Peter asked, trying to stay on track. 

"I was working on something and the stupid thing– Ugh, simply put, I got what essentially amounts to sex pollen into my system and–"

Peter's brain came to a screeching halt. Aphrodisiacs, he knew about those but the term sex pollen seemed to be more intense.

Still, he had to ask.

"Like an… aphrodisiac or something?" Peter hedged cautiously.

Tony grimaced. "Probably worse but nothing I can't handle."

It was only then that Peter noticed Tony's pants were undone. His crouched over position, it seemed, was deliberate in that it hid the state of his undress and more likely than not, any state of arousal the older man was in.

Heat crawled up his neck, no doubt turning his cheeks bright red. It also didn't help that some of that blood flow was directed further south.

His eyes skittered away despite wanting to affirm if Tony was hard. Peter, himself, hunched over a little, hoping to hide his own responding state.

Peter knew that the best thing to do was to retreat but some part of him didn't want to. This thing could be something they laugh about in the future or something they completely bury in the past and never talk about. Or it could be the thing he needed to get Tony to really see him.

Besides, he still had so many questions… He just shouldn't be getting hard when something was obviously off in this situation.

"And that thing that was all over you… Was that something with the um, aphrodisiac?" 

He knew he shouldn't be getting hard and yet… Peter couldn't get the sight out of his mind and his mind puzzled over it, maybe even obsessed over it. 

It was like a void had taken on a physical form but it had also looked fluid in some parts. In others, the thing had looked like it was solid. What really stuck in his mind was how sensual the whole thing appeared but maybe it was his perception of Tony that was to blame, not the way some weird liquid solid moved.

Tony's grimace only deepened and Peter felt bad for putting him on the spot when he was in such a precarious situation. But he knew… He knew that Tony would brush it off if he left now. He would reset and push Peter away.

Peter didn't want that so he clung to the situation.

"That… that was something else, Pete," Tony said hesitatingly.

Were they at a stalemate? Tony could've gotten up at any moment but he just stayed there, as did Peter. At this moment, were they both…?

"I'll explain another time, but right now..." Tony cleared his throat, "I got some things to take care of. If you don't mind."

Peter looked away but forced himself to turn back to his mentor.

"Why did you text me if you were busy, sir?" Peter asked. Then he licked his lips, boldly pushing forward, "Does it hurt or something? Is there anything I can… do to help?"

He was sure that his face was a nice cherry red color. But… He put it out there. Never had Peter so plainly offered himself. He held his breath, hoping wildly that Tony would…

"Text? I didn't..." Tony trailed off, frowning to himself. 

There was a moment of silence where Tony was just looking at him and then he squinted. Kept looking at Peter then at the cell phone on his table then at his hands. Silent microexpressions that hinted at what was going through his mind but not outright giving it away.

Peter fumbled with his own phone for proof, tapping the screen and showing the message.

Tony's eyes narrowed.

"Traitor," Peter heard him mutter, Peter heard him mutter, out of the blue.

Tony then sighed and moved into a sitting position with a groan. Peter wished that he could say he didn't look but he did.

A quick little glance confirmed that Tony was still hard. Peter swallowed the sudden influx of spit in his mouth, feeling hot and bothered.

"Ah-hem," Tony coughed, hiding a smirk behind his hand. He did arch a brow, "I got some weird alien pollen going on, what's your excuse?"

Peter squeaked in alarm, knowing he was caught off guard. He tried to play it cool anyway and subtly moved the corner of his hoodie over the obvious bulge where he was getting hard. 

"I've had a crush on you since... forever?" he admitted, unable to look Tony in the eye.

"You… You did or you… have…?" Tony asked curiously, cautiously.

Peter peeked at him, eyebrows raised. He thought his feelings were extremely obvious.

"Have."

He had the pleasure of Tony's mouth dropping into a little 'O'.

"Well… damn," the older man exhaled, laughing slightly.

They sat there for a moment longer, both a bit amused at the situation. It seemed so silly that Tony didn't know… Even so, Peter frowned at the lack of answers he was getting.

Hesitatingly, he reached over and squeezed the other man's knee.

"I really do wanna help you, Mr. Stark…" he said plainly, holding the older man's gaze, "and that thing… I wanna know what that thing was… You're obviously okay but..."

Peter continued to lock gazes with him, determined to show his mentor how serious he was.

Tony seemed to be internally conflicted, probably monologuing with himself as he tended to do. Peter, with his best puppy eyes, awaited his answer.

The older man muttered something under his breath before he finally seemed to give in.

"Only a few people know this," Tony started then seemed to backtrack when he said, "You know how I escaped the Ten Rings back in Afghanistan?"

He did. It had been all over the news and later on, when Iron man made its debut, the pieces had been put together on how Tony escaped. He'd never heard it from Tony's point of view though.

Peter nodded, leaning forward and so curious. "Yeah, it was the first Iron man prototype you created. It got you out."

Tony nodded, then a bit more solemnly, he confessed, "The thing that wasn't published was that I… kind of blew myself up. The armor was made of pieces of scrap metal, never before tested, all just theory and aspirations. Anything was better than staying there... So I got out. And I blew myself up in the process."

This was all new information for Peter. It was a hard fact to process… He couldn't imagine a world where instead of watching the news of Tony's return, it would've been a funeral. His blood chilled at the very thought of it.

Tony cleared his throat, no doubt sensing Peter's upset. "I ended up in the hospital, actually. In this little town that Rhodey took me to. They would've flown me to one of the bigger ones but I wasn't supposed to make it from the get-go. My chances of survival were… abysmal."

He lifted a hand, palm facing upwards. A dark plum of fluid spilled out, liquidy and swirling around itself. Even in this tiny form, it was fascinating and hypnotic to watch.

Peter's mind stumbled over itself trying to figure out what it was. Some sort of secret tech? He wouldn't put it past Tony to create something but even this was beyond the impressive display of nanotech his mentor created.

"It's a parasite," Tony explained calmly.

Peter inhaled sharply. "Para–"

Then the thing came alive. It swirled larger, seemingly gathering more of itself out of nowhere. It whirled together like an angry hornet's nest. Not only did it become larger but it grew eyes and a large cavernous mouth followed with tiny razor-sharp teeth.

"Parasite!?" It hissed, voice guttural and offended. Peter's mouth dropped open as the thing swirled to face Tony, flashing menacing teeth. "We are not a parasite."

His mentor was entirely unphased and what was even more confusing was the fond, almost chagrined expression on his face.

"Yes, sweet pea, it's just the scientific term," Tony said as he leaned down and kissed the top of what should be the creature's head. "Okay, fine. A symbiote."

The creature didn't seem placated but it did shrink, the mouth disappearing so only large white sinister eyes peered at them.

"We are Venom," the creature rumbled and Tony smiled, affection shining through.

"This little guy is part of an alien race called the Klyntar," Tony told him. "And sweet pea found me after the blowing up. Saved me, actually… And we've been together since."

The creature didn't confirm or deny but somehow Peter could tell that it was pleased. He wasn't even sure how he made that deduction but the… body? seemed to have settled into a lazy spiral as it swirled around itself.

"This human… intends to mate," the symbiote purred, staring at him with that strange alien gaze. Peter's eyes grew wide.

"It's a fear boner!" he blurted out.

The symbiote swirled towards Tony, almost vibrating with curiosity.

"Yeah, go ahead and search for it," Tony told the creature with a chuckle.

"Ah," the symbiote murmured knowingly after a moment.

Tony lowered his hand but instead of the symbiote retreating into his body, it traveled up his arm and settled comfortably on his shoulder. Like this, it reminded Peter of a cat for some reason.

"The reason why I told you isn't because I need your help," Tony admitted while absently petting the inky void on his shoulder. "Well, not with sweet pea and not with the, ah, sex pollen."

"Tony will need help," the symbiote disagreed, displeased.

"I will not–" Tony refuted, attention switching to the creature.

The pieces clicked into place. What Peter witnessed when he first came in… the way Tony was trembling while that massive inky cloud of blackness surrounded him.

"Was Venom helping you?" Peter dared to ask.

Tony fell silent, debating whether or not to answer. That was answer enough to Peter. He sat there, mindblown, as he digested the implications. Tony and this… creature?

"The symbiote and I have been in a state of symbiosis for… years now," Tony said softly, almost lovingly. "Sweet pea and I… We're like one entity. They can't be separated from me and I can't let them go."

The creature hummed in delight.

"We are one…" it agreed softly.

To Peter, it felt like the world was about to shatter in front of him. He didn't think he'd ever have a chance but of course, finding out would always make it hurt even more. But to find out that some alien creature– Wait.

"Then the… Text? Why did you send it when you're in this state?" Peter demanded. There was a thread of hope there but his face remained neutral.

Now it was Tony's turn to become flustered.

"We have dreams," the symbiote answered instead of Tony. "Dreams of… You. Of the spiderling."

"...Traitor," Tony muttered again. "Sometimes, my other half likes to do things when I'm not looking."

The last part was said with a pointed glare at the creature but Peter could tell there wasn't any heat in it.

"So the… alien para–" the symbiote perked up, ready to hiss when Peter remembered and amended his words, "the symbiote sent the text because you… you want me, sir? Is that right…?"

Tony was definitely flustered but he nodded firmly then clasped Peter's wrist. "But I can't have you. Not when we're like this. We're– We won't separate, Pete. It's why I've never allowed myself to… Not with anyone since Afghanistan."

Peter took a deep breath. He kept looking at Tony's hand on his wrist and thought about it. It took a tremendous amount of trust for Tony to tell him. Even if the symbiote was the one to push for this encounter… Peter didn't think that Tony was entirely unaware of what his other half wanted to do.

As he organized his thoughts, a swirl of black seemed to creep towards Tony's fingers. It… fascinated him. This was an alien creature? He found that once he accepted the revelation, it wasn't that hard to picture it. Well, then again, people like Thor and Mr. Loki existed so why not beings like the symbiote?

The symbiote's little tentacle passed Tony's knuckles and skittered to a fingertip. There, it hesitated before a thinner piece swept past and touched Peter's knuckle. It was so feather-light that Peter wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't watching. It was more like a caress, a soft touch that was just exploring.

Tony and this symbiote were one entity, they both confirmed. And they shared dreams. Did they share desire too?

Peter peered at them, heart pounding as he made a decision.

"I still want to help," Peter said softly, "and… I want more than that."

Tony seemed surprised by his answer but the symbiote swirled around his ear, hissing in amusement.

"Told you so," it teased.

--

Tony definitely needed help with the sex pollen. It started off mild enough but the symbiote explained it'd only get worse. Peter didn't want it to get worse so they got started.

It was awkward at first and as much as Peter had fantasies of getting fucked in the lab, Tony wanted a bed. His mentor said it because he was an old man but the symbiote seemed to think it was another reason.

Peter was more than happy to follow them to bed, even if he was a little apprehensive. But it was his first time, so that was easily explained. Add to the fact that he was technically having a threesome for his first time…

It was nerve-wracking and yet… When they fell into bed together, it became so easy. Tony's arms circled around him, pulling him close to a firm human body. That was normal. And Tony's lips were so soft… So soft and so hungry as he kissed Peter gently with ever growing fervor.

It was intense and perfect, their mouths slanting together, barely parting except when a moan refused to be contained. It was all perfectly normal as far as Peter could tell. He was so caught up in Tony, in the feel of his mouth, his beard scratching pleasantly against his skin… His roaming hands… It was a dream come true to Peter and he embraced it fully. But then, he started to notice other things.

Soft subtle things like Tony reacting to something other than himself. It didn't make him jealous though. In fact, it turned him on to see Tony's expression start to cloud over with pleasure.

The symbiote was making its move and directing its attention to Tony. It was expected but after a while, Peter became… curious.

So it wasn't by accident that when he encountered one of the symbiote's limbs, Peter didn't pull away. It was curled around Tony's hip and Peter explored cautiously.

It was long and solid but the girth of the limb would be thick in one part then taper off into a thinner point only to grow thicker if it joined another section. It moved sinuously and it… it reminded him of tentacles… Peter caressed it as it had done to him when they were talking. The creature seemed to understand and didn't shy away from him.

If anything, it seemed eager enough to touch him back, curling around his wrist and directly his hand to Tony's firm ass. A slight pressure had Peter squeezing and the symbiote purred, pleased. It then traveled up his wrist and then his arm, a warm sort of weight that excited Peter.

From there, the symbiote fully joined them and became an ever-present force. It was attached to Tony for sure, tentatively spilling outside of the older man's body and boldly, shameless, exploring both of their bodies.

Peter could tell it was very familiar with Tony's.   It was more careful with him. More tentative but so very curious.

He felt every tendril of inky blackness as it slid around them. He felt it brush against his chest, Tony gasping against his mouth as the symbiote teased his nipples.

"Mm…" Peter watched Tony's mouth drop open, pleasure contorting his features. A tentacle caressed his face, urging the older man to kiss Peter once again.

He moaned into it and shivered when he felt the tendril slide down his neck.

"Ah…" Peter ended up beneath the older man, starting up at him with hooded eyes and a bruised mouth.

"Beautiful…"

"Beautiful…"

Host and symbiote had murmured the same word, sharing the same thoughts while Peter panted up at them.

Tony kissed him again and he arched into it, whimpering when something wrapped around his erection. It wasn't a human hand, but as Peter's hips jerked into the touch, he found that he could care less. It felt warm and tight and perfect.

"Tony…" Peter whined. Was this how it felt for Tony when the symbiote touched him?

"It's okay…" the older man murmured against his mouth. "Anything you don't like, tell us…"

His hips bucked into the tight grip and his entire body spasmed as the symbiote rippled around his erection, squeezing gently and massaging his cock like a living fleshlight.

"It's good…" Peter hissed, "so good, sir… Mmm… Want you to touch me too, please…"

Tony groaned, captivated, breath exhaled in a soft sigh. "Oh, sweetheart, you're a treasure…"

Tony took his request and his hands roamed all over Peter's body, learning all the spots that made him shiver and squirm in their hold. And if he felt the symbiote mimicking Tony's touches, Peter didn't protest. He was far from protesting.

"How far do you wanna go," Tony murmured against his jaw. 

He was sucking love bites onto Peter's skin, playing with his healing factor and doing it harder and harder until Peter cried out. It was a miracle that Peter could even process what he was saying.

"We can do it like this… Just running against each other… Making you feel good makes us feel good…"

Peter looked at him through the slits of his eyes. He licked his sore lips and pressed eagerly into the older man's touch. Tony's cock against his hip felt so hot and ready.

"Anything," Peter answered then amended, "everything…"

"Hmm…" Tony's response was a hum of consideration. 

There was some hesitation in that one note though and it was something Peter wanted to eradicate. If Tony and the symbiote were one person, he wanted them and everything they could give him. He was so sure of this, of Tony. Of Tony and the symbiote. 

"There's more," Tony admitted softly as though doing so would scare him away.

"I want more…" Peter almost begged.

Tony's eyes were so dark. He felt like he should be able to see the symbiote lurking there but he saw nothing. Feeling though… He could feel the symbiote now, feel the way it watched him through Tony's eyes.

Peter shivered and spoke to them both. "I want more… I want both of you. I want… Venom."

The answer seemed to be the right one. The hunger in Tony's eyes grew and he took in Peter's trembling body.

"Turn around…" It was said so softly that Peter would've missed it if not for his spider enhanced hearing.

He did so eagerly and when he felt Tony's hands on his waist, he almost melted into the bed. Instead, Tony kept his hips up in the position he wanted while Peter buried his face into the pillows.

Admittedly, Peter had never felt so exposed as he did right then. Tony and the symbiote could see everything, from his cock bobbing in the air between his trembling thighs to the tiny untouched hole between his cheeks.

"Mr. Stark…" he moaned when he felt Tony spread him open.

"We want a taste, Pete," Tony said, breath fanning over his sensitive hole. "Can we…? Wanna taste you on our tongue... Make you fall apart all around us..."

Oh, God…

"Yes, yes…" Peter babbled. "Do it, sir, do it–"

His words trailed off into incoherent squeaks and moans when they began. A wet, agile tongue licked him there and it was the most surreal experience Peter had ever had.

His breath came in shuttered gasps and his palms curled into fists. One pressed against his mouth as though it was possible to stop the dirty little moans he made from escaping.

The older man's tongue swirled around his hole, teasing and licking. Slurping. All these obscene sloppy noises assaulted his ears as Tony made quick work out of him, reducing him into a babbling, moaning mess.

And just when he forgot about the symbiote, it reminded him. While Tony started tongue fucking him, a wet tendril wound itself back around his cock and two smaller ones attached themselves to his nipples.

He whined when he felt them somehow suck on them, like small little mouths teasing every bit of pleasure they can get out of him.

Peter whimpered when Tony pulled away. The tentacles didn't stop though and he squirmed, hips swaying as the symbiote continued, sucking his nipples, pinching them, stroking his cock...

"Get ready, baby, this is gonna be… something," Tony warned. 

Peter barely caught a glimpse of him over his shoulder but what he saw… Maybe any sane person would've been terrified but all Peter saw was Tony. It was a different kind of Tony that was melding with the symbiote but nevertheless, he was still Tony.

He didn't know what Tony was talking about but he trusted him.

The next time he felt Tony's tongue, he did go boneless against the bed. Tony licked him gently, his tongue teasing the sensitive muscle. 

"Give it to me…" Peter whispered. 

A tendril caressed his cheek and he nuzzled against it. Tony had said pleasuring Peter gave them pleasure. Did that mean they shared pleasure just as they did thoughts and body…?

It was a curious thought, one that was blasted away when Tony pushed his tongue back inside. With some repetition, Peter thought he could get used to the feeling but for now, he tried to stifle a gasp and failed.

Then something changed and– Peter cried out as Tony's tongue grew and elongated, filling up the space in his body and brushing against this sensitive spot inside him. He felt it... Reaching so deep inside him where he didn't think it was possible...

"O-Oh…!" Peter stuttered out in a whine. "Oh, God…!"

Then he remembered how the symbiote's form was fluid-like and seemed to expand and shrink at its desire. He did a full-body shiver with the realization that Tony was doing that to him… Tongue fucking him along with the symbiote.

He was truly a mess now. Tears leaked from the corner of his eyes as that long, fleshy tongue played with his sweet spot.

He had asked for more and he was getting it…

"M-Mister… Starkk…!" He moaned, incoherent. 

The symbiote continued to caress his face with gentle tendrils but Peter, teased beyond his limits, didn't want gentle. Just as Tony was licking and tonguing him, Peter, too, put his mouth to good use.

Pleasure… He wanted to make them feel good, both of them.

He kissed the tentacle closest to his face, curled his arm closer so that it was nudged closer. It jerked at the contact but then eagerly traced along his lips as though asking for permission.

Peter moaned and kissed it again. It slipped into his mouth and even though it wasn't a cock and it didn't have the girth of one, Peter still felt so dirty and lustful taking it in. He sucked it like it was a cock, moaning when he heard Tony cry out in pleasure.

Tony's assault continued and it nearly drove Peter crazy. His tongue was reaching in deep inside him… Then he felt something else nudging against his hole alongside Tony's tongue and it was being gentle by slowly working itself in but it was also thicker… He was being stretched even more and it eased itself in, fucking him gently.

He didn't know if it was more of the symbiote's tentacles or if it was Tony's fingers. He couldn't bear to look… The sight of Tony eating him out while he was being fingerfucked would make him come. And he wanted to last, at least until Tony fucked him.

"Mmm–" His words were muffled around the tentacle in his mouth but as soon as he tried, it withdrew. He was left gasping, mouth open in a drawn-out moan.

"Wait…" he groaned desperately, "m gonna come, M-Mr. Stark…"

"Come then, baby…" Tony encouraged him when he pulled away. "We'll lick you clean..."

Even without his tongue, the other insertion continued to pump in and out of him. It was joined by another and another... Slimmer than the first but he still felt it, the way all three moved and pumped in and out of him in varying motions.

Tentacles then…

Peter's head swayed side to side, words escaping him as his hips pushed back in needy little jerks.

"Fuck me…" Peter gasped out. "Please, Mr. Stark… Need it…"

Tony groaned behind him and Peter was almost certain he'd go back to rimming him but then he was hauled up to his knees by a very strong grip. He gasped, shock and pleasure shooting through him like a jolt of thunder.

The hand that gripped his waist was black with the symbiote's flesh and larger than a normal human's. 

He felt Tony's cock press between his cheeks, rubbing against his wet hole. He shuddered and wondered if the pollen could transfer… Via spit or other fluids… If it could, he was certain he'd been dosed too. But the reality was, he was just this needy for the older man, this hungry to get fucked by Tony and his symbiote.

Tony shifted a bit and the large, heavy girth of his cock pushed between Peter's soft inner thighs. Tony was more than human in this state, and his cock, like the rest of him, was being supplemented by the symbiote.

"I could fuck you like this… Or I could fuck you as just myself…" Tony murmured, soft and intimate in his ear. He gently led Peter's hand between his legs, let him feel just how much his cock was different when he was like this. It felt… massive and pressed between his thighs, it looked impossible.

And yet, Peter wanted it. He wanted everything Tony could give him. Even with his breathing shallow, his mind balanced on the dangerous edge of fear and excitement, he wanted it.

"Will it fit? It's so big..." Peter asked, breathless. His fingers curled around the fat tip, rubbing along the sensitive undersides. 

Tony gave a breathy moan of pleasure before he said, "It'll fit, baby, we'll make it fit…"

Peter took in one last shuttered breath before nodding. "Do it…"

Tony was oh so gentle with him when he finally fucked him. Peter felt the strength restrained in his limbs as he did and knew Tony was being gentle on purpose. It was… Peter's first time, after all.

It was a lot to take in but as Tony promised, they made it work. The rimming had helped and, with a flushed face, Peter could admit that the extra attention the symbiote gave him helped too. Properly prepared, Peter's body still struggled to take him in but they were determined to do it. Inch by inch… Tony carefully pushed into him, breath ragged as he took Peter's first time.

Peter gripped anything within reach which was Tony's arms as he took his first cock. White knuckled, he bore through the sensation of being penetrated and God, he felt so full… He whimpered when he felt the press of Tony's hips against his ass and his head lolled against the older man's chest.

"Taking us so well, sweetheart…" Tony praised into his ear, "every damn inch…. Fuck, baby… We can feel it... Feel you squeezing down on us, ah– You wanna get fucked so badly... So fucking perfect for us..."

He felt the warmth of that praise but all Peter could do was moan, helpless and speared open on their cock.

"Let go, baby," Tony murmured. Peter vaguely noted his voice was rougher and deeper. "We'll take care of you… Make you feel so good..."

Some part of him remembered that he was the one that was supposed to be helping Tony but the words escaped him. With his head against Tony's chest, Peter looked at him with glazed eyes. The face staring back at him was monstrous, gleaming black clinging to Tony's tanned flesh and those teeth... Venom's white pupilless eye on one side and Tony's familiar brown in the other.

Peter came with a strangled cry. The combination of the symbiote stroking him and Tony fucking him was too much. He had waited so long that he was surprised he didn't come earlier. 

His release spurted into open air and all over the symbiote's tentacles that had been touching him. More dribbled down his pulsing cock, only to be collected and carried to Tony's lips. Tony kept his promise and licked away every drop.

Even soft, Peter wanted Tony to keep going. He knew he'd be hard in no time.

"Please…" Peter moaned, tipping his face up and hoping for a kiss.

They answered him, leaning down and giving him the kiss he didn't know he was craving. It was wet and savage, Venom's long alien tongue running over his human one. Even then, his lover was careful with his teeth. Peter never once felt the deadly sharp edge of those teeth, just the wet agile glide of their tongue as his eyes slipped closed.

He was fucked gently at first. Every push and pull felt like he was being turned inside out with Venom's alien cock dragging along his soft insides. He was probably ruined for any other, he couldn't imagine sex being anything but this…

His senses were dialed up to a hundred and every caress, every sloppy kiss, every nudge of Venom's cock against his sensitive prostate was just short of overwhelming. The only thing he could do was breathe through it and adapt.

It was a struggle but he was reminded at every turn that this wasn't just a fuck. The gentleness was almost lovemaking and when he finally got used to it… He craved more.

He craved the feeling of Venom/Tony's muscles flexing under his hands, craved the punishing thrusts that he knew his lover was capable of.

Peter worried that the next time he begged for more, he'd be denied. He was never so happy to be wrong.

Once they knew he was capable of taking them, they gave him the more he wanted. Manhandled and practically lifted into the air, each wrist and ankle held firmly by Venom's tentacles, they fucked Peter with careful abandon. He was Spiderman and more than capable of taking a beating but they were Venom and they weren't going to risk hurting him besides bruising up his lips with kisses, his skin with their teeth, and his insides with their cock.

It was more than enough. Tentacles were touching every part of his body, teasing his nipples, rubbing against his cheeks, fucking his mouth, massaging his cock… And smaller but still substantial tentacles pushing in and out of his body, sometimes syncing up with Tony's thrusts and other times moving in contrast to it.

He felt… So… full…

His second orgasm was dragged out of him and by the time the last pulses of cum spurted out of him, he was boneless in Venom/Tony's hold.

"Come…" he murmured against a tentacle teasing his mouth  "Inside me, please…"

He felt Tony's body shudder, his chest working hard to draw breath as he chased after his orgasm. Peter's eyes slipped closed, focusing on the way his lover's thrusts went from smooth and precise to short and sloppy.

He let out a soft cry when he felt Tony come inside. A flood of heat warmed his worn body and it came in several loads as Tony groaned, helpless and vulnerable as he filled Peter up.

They were a mess after. Tony's bedsheets were ruined for sure.

Sweaty and exhausted, but feeling beyond sated, Peter murmured, "Okay, now?"

The older man pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips.

"More than," he replied. He carried Peter into a spare bedroom but instead of leaving him there, Tony joined him under the covers. Now that Peter knew about the symbiote, he could feel its presence like a slight tickle in the back of his mind, his spider senses licking something up that wasn't quite human.

Tony's arm, entirely human, wrapped around his waist and dragged him back so they were pressed Peter's back to Tony's front.

"Round two in ten?" Peter teased with a soft hum.

He felt Tony chuckle against his ear, "That can be arranged." 

The soft tickle of a tentacle along his neck was all he needed to know the symbiote was in sync with those plans as well.

[fangirling-is-my-passion]

*Spider-comfort* (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of drugs (?), sad reader, and I think that’s about it

Summary: Spider-man is running from a gang of teenagers when he finds you sitting on a roof, sad, and tries to comfort you.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this, lovelies. :) <3

Run.

Run, run, run.

When you think about a drugged gang of teenagers robbing a small shop you consider you're perfectly capable of handling it, especially when your Spider-Man, right?

Well, no.

I mean, what kind of drugs do kids consume nowadays? As far as I knew, they usually made you dizzy and slow, not the other way around!

So now I have to escape from them. And no, I cannot simply stop them with some spiderwebs, because I have no more webfluid left! I don't understand how it ran out so quickly...

Bang!

And now they're shooting at me... Great.

Bang!

I decide to turn to the right in the next corner and climb the wall of the first house so I can lose them. I climb until I reach the top of the house and peek out to see were the guys of the gang are. When they don't see me anywhere, they just turn around and leave for the same way they came. Guess I'll catch them some other day...

I sit on the edge of the roof for a little while to catch my breath before I stand up and start walking nonchalantly still on the top of the house.

Such a beautiful night it is, with many stars and a big, bright, cheese-looking moon. I keep walking for a little more when I see something strange in one of the roofs. A silhouette.

Is it... a cat? No, it can't be, that looks taller than a cat... Must... Must be a person...

I get closer.

Yeah... A person. A... A girl, actually.

I walk towards the girl in silence, in order not to scare her. As I get closer I'm able to see her with much more detail. She's sitting on the edge of the roof of the last house of the block. A whole air of sadness surrounds her... Maybe... Maybe I can help... Right?

"H-Hi!" I say, breaking the cold silence of the night, when I'm only a few feet from her. She jumps slightly in startle and turns her head to look at me.

"(Y/N)..." I whisper. How can... How is that possible? I didn't recognise the place in the dark, I had... I had no idea I was near (Y/N)'s house...

"I'm sorry?" she says, her voice sounds a bit... Broken. As if she'd been crying "Oh, you're... You're Spider-Man..."

"I am" I smile widely even though she can't see me. "Are... Are you all right?" I ask.

"Yeah, I'm..." she interrupts herself and sighs "No, I'm not, actually..."

I get to the edge as well and sit beside her "What happened?"

"I... I appreciate your interest, but I-I don't really want to talk about it... I mean, I don't even know who you are. Oh, if just Peter was here..."

“I am Peter!” I want to shout “This is me, you can talk to me, I'm him!”

But I can't. I haven't told (Y/N), yet. She doesn't know I'm Spider-Man. I should... I should probably tell her...

But not now. It isn't the right moment.

"Who's Peter?" I ask to dissemble, even though I know the answer.

She huffs a chuckle before answering "He is... " She meditates her answer, before she says: "He's like the cutest boy you could ever meet. And definitely my best friend. He's very sweet and kind and... Nerdy. He understands every reference I make. For short: He is amazing. And he is such a good listener, I can talk to him about everything and anything..." she sighs again.

"Well, he sounds... Great... Still, I want to... I don't know, help you"

"Of course you do, you're our friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man!" she says and smiles for the first time in the night. She looks so beautiful smiling; even though it's dark, the silver moonlight lits perfectly her face and makes her (Y/H/C) hair shine "Unfortunately" her smile vanishes as quickly as it appeared "you can't always help, hon." she lets her chin rest on top of her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs and pulling them close to her chest.

She looks so hopeless and I don't even know why. It's frustrating. I'm not sure of what to say or do to make her feel better, so in the end I decide to simply wrap my right arm around her.

I can feel how her muscles tense a bit at my contact, but as she gets used to it they began to slowly relax. At some point she lets her legs go and her head rest on my shoulder. I tighten my embrace.

"If I think about it" she comments "this is weird. I repeat: I don't know you. Besides, since when do superheroes help you with your daily problems? I'm not gonna die... I guess..." she huffs a scoff and despite of her comment she doesn't move. I can feel the warmth of her beautiful body, as well as the pace of her now calmed breathing.

"However" she adds "you're comfortable and I, for some reason, feel safe with you. No, it isn't because you're a superhero, I know it, it's far beyond that. It's strange and I don't really know how to explain it..."

"I get it" I say.

"You do?"

"Somehow, yeah." she chuckles. Have I already said I love it when she chuckles?

She might not really know it, but I guess her "sixth sense" knows that I'm... Well, me. Peter. Her best friend (who, as a matter of fact, wishes to be more than that). I desire so hard to help her and I can't! Or at least I don't feel like a great help right at this very moment...

We remain silent for a while, each one absorbed by it's own thoughts.

I mean... Or should I actually tell her now? About... Me... And... Spider-Man? That sounds so weird if I say it like that... Erm... I still don't feel like it's the right moment, I don't know, though... When is it a good moment to tell your best friend you're a superhero? Come on! She's probably going to be mad at me because Ned does know and she doesn't... So, yeah, perhaps later... Nonetheless, the sooner I tell her, the better, isn't that right?

I'm in such a dilemma.

Soon I notice something different about (Y/N)'s breathing. It gets... More serene... More peaceful...

Oh.

She fell asleep.

Should... Should I wake her up? No. No, that would be... Rude. But then... Sh-should I take her... To-to her bedroom? Wouldn't that be creepy?

Well, I hope not. I mean, that's the best I can do, isn't it?

I start moving slowly so I get in a good position to carry her and, with all the carefulness I'm capable of, I take her in my arms. I walk along the rooftop until I reach what, if my sense of orientation isn't wrong, must be (Y/N)'s bedroom window (fortunately, I've been to her house once or twice before) and I slide through it, trying not to make any noise at all.

I gently leave her on her bed (which is very comfy by the way) and tuck her up with her incredibly soft (Y/F/C) blanket. Whenever I come to (Y/N)'s house I get a warm feeling inside my body. I don't know why, but I guess I really feel welcome with her and her family. I feel at home.

That of course doesn't mean I don't feel home when I'm with my Aunt May... It's not the same, though. It's a different home feeling.

I don't know, it's just what I feel.

Before actually leaving and making my way back home (because, as a matter of fact, it's getting quite late), I sit in the ledge of her bedroom window, letting my thoughts fly.

That question strikes again into my mind: How am I supposed to tell (Y/N) I am Spider-man? I mean, in a gentle, cool, not so creepy and weird way? How?

I keep thinking about it for a while, until I discover myself yawning and I decide that the best I could do right now is to go back home. Besides, I have school tomorrow, so I better go to bed as soon as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh, God, did I fall asleep?" you exclaimed, abruptly waking up from your deep sleep. However, to your surprise, you weren't outside anymore, you were laying on your bed, warm and comfy.

"Aw... Spidey." you murmured softly in the middle of the dark, a smile tugging your lips. Suddenly, you felt a weird, hot feeling growing inside your stomach. And, despite you had no idea how he actually looked without the mask, you thought Spider-Man was cute. Really cute.

[monaisme]

Day 2: “I can’t take this anymore.”

Day 2: “I can’t take this anymore.”

“Dude? Are you sure you’re okay? Ned asked for the millionth time. “Maybe you should call Mr. Stark?”

Peter refrained from rolling his eyes, wholly aware that it would definitely aggravate the headache that hadn’t dulled since, well... Flash. He pulled his binder and Spanish textbook out of his locker. “Ned, seriously, I’m—”

“...Still a loser! Isn’t that right, Penis?”

Peter barely had a chance to brace himself before Flash was slinging his arm and the entirety of his body weight over Peter’s shoulder and laughing. “I still can’t believe you didn’t see that soccer ball coming!”

Peter shoved Flash’s arm off. “Shut up, Flash.” Peter growled. “It’s sort of hard to see something coming when it’s behind you.”

Ned’s eyes widened. “But Pete?” he started, “Your Peter tin—”

How Ned had managed to keep Peter’s identity a secret so far was a mystery. “Yes! Ned!” Peter interrupted. “My Peter tinnitus!”

Ned floundered.

“Yeah, it totally sucks!” Peter’s eyes widened with panic. He definitely wasn’t getting any help from Ned. “It really only flares up when,” he lowered his voice and stared at Flash, “I’m shmucked in the head by uncoordinated teammates.”

“Who are you calling uncoordinated, loser?! That was precision at its finest. In fact, I should totally get someone to hack the school’s security system and get a copy for me! Imagine all the views on my TikTok! Oh! I know—I can loop it! The world will see your idiot face over and over and over... AND over!” Flash finally trailed off with dreams of viral video fame, then looked Peter dead in the eye. “You, Penis Parker, are the best target EVER! I don’t know why I bother with the others.”

Peter’s headache pulsed and he had to bite back a groan. “Look, can we save this for another time, Flash. I’m not in the mood.”

Flash stared at him for a second, blank faced, then quirked an eyebrow. “Okay, Parker, another time? Done. Let’s see how you feel after school, if that’s how you’re gonna be.”

“What? No way—”

“Stuff it, Penis.” Flash got up in his face. ”You’re about to be my new after school ‘appointment.’ Lucky for that foreign exchange student, huh?” With that declaration, Flash flicked Peter between the eyes and headed down the hall towards his own locker and out of sight.

Peter let himself fall back into the lockers and rubbed at his forehead with a defeated sigh.

“Peter?” Ned spoke quietly. “If you want, I can call Mr. Hogan for you. Mr. Stark gave me his phone number for emergencies and if this isn’t one then...”

“Ned, please stop.” Peter begged. “We have one more class and then I can head to the tower, take some painkillers, and forget about Flash and this crappy day.”

“But Flash said—”

“Ned, I know what he said!” Peter snapped, then took a hopefully calming breath. “Let me worry about it, alright? Flash is obviously having one of those days and you know it’s better me than someone else when he gets like this.”

Ned shook his head in disagreement. “Dude, no. Not today. You already feel like shit.”

“Well then, you can go and tell Raveed that Flash is looking for some after school entertainment!”

“Maybe if you talked to Morita...?”

“Seriously, man? Flash has the school admins by the gonads and you know it!” Peter pressed his fingers to his eyes trying to counter the pressure. “Do the iPads in the library generously donated by Harrison Thompson ring a bell?”

Ned snorted. “How someone named Harrison could CHOOSE to name their kid Eugene, I’ll never get it.”

Peter offered a fake chuckle in return as the warning bell rang. “Ugh, have fun in Comp Sci, man.” Peter moved into their handshake. “Meet you back here after class?”

“Naw, Pete, remember?” Ned’s hands followed Peter’s lead. “I’m getting picked up early. Dentist appointment.”

“Well, shit.” Peter huffed. “Wish me luck then.”

Ned bundled Peter in a hug, “Hello? Dentist?! You wish me luck!” Ned teased.”Besides, you don’t need luck, Pete. You’re Spider-Man.” And Ned left Peter standing alone in the hallway.

With no one to fool, Peter deflated.  He mumbled a ‘mierda’ and shuffled off to Spanish class.

* * * * * *

Regret.

That was all Peter could focus on as the clock ticked down through the last 20 minutes of class. He regretted not letting Ned call Happy and he definitely regretted leaving his phone in his locker. Now if he wanted to contact anyone, it was with his Starkwatch and that was not something he wanted to deal with. A text saying ‘Hey. Killer headache. Need drugs’ was one thing. Any message sent via the watch was forwarded to ALL of the Avengers—even the newly pardoned ones.

... And he sure as heck wasn’t dealing with them.

He should have listened to Ned.

Or called someone himself.

Or just drowned himself in the boys’ washroom sink to put himself out of his misery.

... And he still had to deal with Flash.

Crap.

Yup. So much regret.

10 minutes—5 minutes—2 minutes...

Time slowed to the point where he wondered if the Time Stone was in play. It was just a fleeting, silly thought, but still too soon. His stomach clenched as he thought back on the time when—

Peter jumped as the final bell of the day rang through the room.

Crap.

He swallowed back saliva, the nausea distracting from his headache for a moment. That is until Flash strutted past Peter’s desk, cuffing him across the back of the head, brightening his pain once again.

“Don’t keep me waiting, Parker!” Flash sang out as he exited the classroom.

Double crap.

He tried to drag it out, slowly packing away his school items with unnecessary care. He’d have taken forever if he could, but that dream died with Senora Ramirez’s, “Vamos, Peter! Rapido por favour!”

Smiling back weakly, he replied, “Si, Senora Ramirez. Adios.” And he skulked out the door.

The hallway was almost empty by the time Peter made it to his locker, thank goodness. While his enhanced healing had barely started to touch his headache, the exhaustion of his metabolism trying and tentative hunger battling with his queasiness were real and uncomfortable. The quiet was good.

He took some deep breaths. “Okay,” he thought, “No thinking about the stones at school.”

More focussed, Peter managed to open his locker and grab his phone as it buzzed with a new text but his attempt to read it was interrupted by a rough shove; Peter’s shoulder connecting painfully with the locker’s frame.

“What part of ‘Don’t keep me waiting’ did you not understand, Penis?” Flash grabbed Peter by the shoulder and spun him around. “This is a smart school, ya’ know. Or maybe Mr. Scholarship doesn’t understand, huh?”

Peter flushed in embarrassment. “I’m smart.” Peter whispered.

“Well, if you’re so smart, you wouldn’t have made me have to come back into the school. Or are you deaf, too?” Flash shoved Peter back into the lockers.

Peter remained silent.

Flash slammed Peter back again, his head snapping back, too. “Dammit, Parker! Why do you make me so angry?”

How could anyone answer that question?

Again, Peter impacted the lockers. “You’re so pathetic, Penis. Standing in the gym, begging me to make you suffer.” Peter slammed again. “It’s so satisfying,” Flash hissed. “You’re practically asking for this.” With that, Flash reared back his fist and slammed it into Peter’s cheek. Spider-Man or not, it hurt, and the white bursts of light behind his eyelids spoke to that.

Was he begging for it?

Peter’s thoughts wandered to the time, in that moment when he slid down the wall to the floor. Had Raveed managed to catch his bus? Was he running late? Maybe his host family had picked him up.

A rough kick to his side pulled him from his thoughts. “There. That’ll keep me going ‘til tomorrow.” Flash grinned and stepped away.

Peter exhaled in relief.

“Nah,” Flash landed another kick to his thigh. “I lied. THAT will keep me going ‘til tomorrow.” Flash turned and jogged down the hall. “See you then, loser!” He turned the corner and was gone.

Peter closed his eyes and tentatively rested his head against the locker. Okay. It was done. He was okay. Peter picked up the phone that had landed on the floor beside him—Raveed had to be gone by now.

His phone buzzed again.

3:04pm

TonyBaloney: Hey! Got Rogues in house for meetings. :(

3:07pm

TonyBaloney: Reschedule?

Peter closed his eyes and inhaled. 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... and held the breath, only to lose his focus when his phone buzzed a third and fourth time.

3:08pm

TonyBaloney: Use that credit card. Buy some Thai for you and Aunt Hottie!

3:08pm

TonyBaloney: But don’t tell her I called her that!

3:08pm

TonyBaloney: Seriously, she’ll kill me.

Peter huffed out a real laugh at that. Aunt May would geld Mr. Stark if she ever found out his nickname for her. Not that he could tell her. But what was he going to do about the weekend? When Mr. Stark had invited him for the weekend, Peter was relieved. May was going away for some training conference in New Jersey and had told Peter to ask Mr. Stark to play babysitter. The spontaneous invite had kept Peter from looking like a kid and May got her wish. Win-win.

... and now none of that mattered.

3:10pm

PBWanKenobi: Np, Mr. STart. See you Tuesday?

3:10pm

PBWanKenobi: *Stark

His phone didn’t buzz again, and Peter didn’t expect it to. The Rogues tended to keep Mr. Stark pretty distracted. Besides, even feeling like hot garbage, Peter could still get excited about a suddenly free night of Spider-Manning. And really, how much energy would he expend helping little old ladies crossing the street?

* * * * * *

Hours later, Peter could ignore that deep ache across his shoulders and back and even the occasional tug as his mask stuck to the healing cut on his cheek. The headache was still a little much (read that as borderline unbearable), but he’d call the evening a win.

He was swinging and considering stopping at that new Mexican place across from the Dunkin’ Donuts for a burrito or two when his Spidey-senses flared and Spider-Man was twisting away from his original course toward an alley about a three blocks down the street.

His senses blared now. “Karen, call 9-1-1.”

“Peter, if I call now, you run the risk—”

“Don’t care.” His neck almost burned from the intensity. “Call now.”

A woman screamed in obvious pain.

“And tell them to send an ambulance.”

“Calling...” Karen responded and left Spider-Man to do what he did best. Save the day.

Spider-Man took no time to assess the situation and react: A man and a woman in a physical altercation- well, more like a behemoth of a man beating the shit out of this poor lady, oblivious to the fact that someone had joined the party.

She’d fallen unconscious, only held up by her hair grasped in his one hand as he pulled his fist back to punch her again with the other. A thwip of webbing and the man’s fist stopped in its path.

“Wha-?”

“Hey! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?!” Spider-Man called out as he gave the webbing a yank and pulled the man away from his victim while blasting a cushion of webbing onto the concrete beneath the woman’s head.

The man’s initial confusion had passed quickly enough. He tried to remove the webbing from his right hand, but when that failed, simply went after Spider-Man with his left. “You got no business, here, ya’ freak!” He raged as he swung and missed. “She’s my woman! You got no say!” He swung and missed again.

“Dude,”Spider-Man jumped back, “Women have had the vote for, like, a hundred years! I’m pretty sure that she’s,” He jumped back again, “not your property, man!”

“She’s mine, ya’ bastard! And she knows what she did!” he raged, “She deserves everything she gets.” The man lunged one last time, going full bore on the young vigilante—and playing right into the trap. His fist came down as Spider-Man jumped up onto the alley wall. The crunch was nauseating and Peter was sure the man had to have broken at least three knuckle bones, if not several bones in his hand proper. He dropped his knees and cradled his injury, whimpering.

Spider-Man took advantage, securing the man to the ground with more webbing. He wasn’t going anywhere.

That taken care of, he rushed to the still unconscious woman on the ground. Now that he’d taken care of that dude, he could focus. “Karen, ETA on the ambulance?” He kneeled beside her prone body, better taking in her injuries.

“Two minutes, Peter.”

Okay, he could do two minutes. Her breathing was a little rough, and both of her eyes were swollen shut. He looked away, focused on the ground beside her and—were those teeth? This wasn’t the first beaten woman he’d helped, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that this one was different. He pulled in deep breath, and shook his head to try and clear it... but then this damned headache. No. Help would be here soon and she’d be okay. Yeah, she’d be okay. He was sure of it. He grabbed her hand, “You’ll be fine, lady. Help is coming.”

He pulled in a breath. He was okay.

The man in the webs sneered. “Awww, you’re so cute. Thinking that this is the last of it.” Spider-Man glared back him. The man gave a chin nod in her direction. “Who do you think is gonna bail me out?”

“No one deserves this, man! Why’d you do it? You could’ve killed her?” Spider-Man yelled. “Why?”

The man laughed, ugly and low. “You wanna know why?”

Spider-Man stared back at him.

"I’ll tell you why. ‘Cuz she’s so stupid, the bitch practically begs me to hit her. She needs to remember her place, that she’s nothin’ without me.” The man sneered, “and sometimes, it just feels so damn good.”

Flash’s words from earlier in the day suddenly echoed through Peter’s head. Yeah, Spider-Man was done for the day and Peter had a lot to think about.

“Karen, ETA?”

“Arrival is imminent. Might I suggest taking refuge on a rooftop to avoid detection by the local authorities?”

Peter looked at the bruised and swollen woman on the ground, gently placed her hand at her side, and then Spider-Man plastered a patch of webbing across the woman beater’s mouth. Peter didn’t want to listen to him anymore.

The ambulance and patrol car skidded to a halt in front of the alleyway almost simultaneously. A police officer exited his vehicle with weapon drawn and preparing to clear the alley for the EMTs to come down with their equipment .

“Peter?” Karen inquired.

“Yeah, I know. That’s my cue to leave.” And with the flick of a wrist, Spider-Man was off and away from the scene.

* * * * * *

It was past his curfew, and save for the fact that he was pretty sure he’d saved the life of that woman in the alley, stopped several muggings, a car accident, and finally caught that pickpocket that’d been targeting tourists for weeks—well, he’d regretted every decision he’d made since getting off of the subway after school.

He’d planned to stop after that man, but an inexplicable need to atone for his very existence ate at him and within minutes of stopping on that first rooftop, he was off and at it again.

And now his face still bled, his head pounded, and he wondered if his shoulder had dislocated and then corrected itself at some point in the evening. His ribs ached, his bruises throbbed, and something... something gnawed at his gut. No. Not something. Everything gnawed at his gut and thoughts were swirling around in his brain and he kept wondering why and how and if...”

“Incoming call from Tony Stark.”

Peter closed his eyes and drew in a calming breath.

“Peter?” Mr. Stark’s deceptively calm voice came over the comm. “Care to explain to me why I’m having to give the Spider-Baby a call at 1:27 on a Saturday morning when your curfew is midnight on the weekend?”

He didn’t know what to say, so he stuck to the truth, “I’m just thinking, Mr. Stark. I promise.”

“And you can’t do that from the comfort of your own home?”

Peter closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure that was the best plan, being alone in that exact moment.

“Pete? Are you going to answer me, ‘cuz Karen and FRI are both works of AI genius and I know this call hasn’t dropped.”

Peter inhaled again. That realization made it all too much. He wanted to...

“Pete?” Mr. Stark was alert now. “Pete? What’s going on?”

“I’m...” a sob fought its way free. What was Peter supposed to say? He wanted so badly to say he was good—that he was great and just taking in the cityscape before heading back to the apartment. He wanted to talk about the hot dog vendor who gives him extra sauerkraut on his hot dogs, ‘cuz it’ll put hair on his chest. Heck, he’d have settled for a story about free churros...

But he just felt so heavy.

“Peter, I’m calling up a suit now. I can be to you in two minutes.”

Two minutes? He had two minutes, and then Mr. Stark would know that Spider-Man wasn’t a superhero—he was a distraction, a target, a victim. That he existed solely for the universe to pour all of its hate and misfortune onto him for the benefit of others. That no matter how hard he tried, it would never be enough. That maybe Flash and Toomes and every punch and kick and stab were karma for Ben? His parents? That maybe if he wasn’t here...” Peter sobbed again. How could he say that all in two minutes?  

Instead, Peter whispered, “Mr. Stark? I can’t take this anymore.”

There was a silence, then, and Peter panicked at the thought he’d said too much.

“I mean—it’s okay, I just...”

“Pete. Hang on just thirty more seconds, okay? I’m coming to you, right now. Do you hear me?”

Peter nodded.

Mr. Stark chuckled, “I can’t hear you nod, kid.”

“I hear you,” he breathed.

“Okay, ‘cuz I bet there’s a lot of stuff goin’ on in that head of yours that needs some revisiting and I imagine it’s not processing quite right just now, what with the concussion you’ve been dealing with,” Mr. Stark cussed under his breath. “Kid, Karen is telling FRI that you already had that concussion when the suit went on?”

Peter huffed a laugh and looked out onto the city. “Um,” his voice warbled as he answered, “It’s been a pretty shitty day.” He could see Iron Man in the distance.

“Definitely sounds like there’s a story there, kid.” Mr. Stark landed a few feet away then moved towards him, faceplate flipping up to reveal a look of concern. “I want to hear it but first, I think you need this first.” The Iron Man armour melted away and Mr. Stark pulled Peter into his arms.

Peter tensed. The hugging thing wasn’t new for them, but Peter was convinced that he didn’t deserve this—any of this and he couldn’t... couldn’t...”

“Hey, kid, you’re safe here.” Mr. Stark soothed. “I’ve got you.”

Peter burrowed himself into Mr. Stark’s chest, then shook his head ‘no.’

His head hurt so bad and he couldn’t stop crying.

“Hey, FRI? Can he take the mask off?”

A voice spoke out from the watch resting by his ear. “I’m afraid not, Boss. There are several CCTV cameras set for specific ongoing undercover operations. This would disrupt four active stake outs and potential chain of evidence.”

“Damn.” Tony thought for a second. “Hey, buddy,” leaned to talk quietly into Peter’s ear. “I’m gonna give you a lift, ‘kay? We’ll hang out at the tower, just like we planned and have a bit of a staycation this weekend, sound good?”

Peter’s energy level was ebbing but, even still, he remembered, “No, don’t want the Avengers to see me like this.” He pleaded.

“Yeah, they flaked after the last meeting wrapped up, bud. The tower’s free and clear. It’d be you and me and bad 80s sci-fi. What do you say?”

Peter shrugged. It was all he could give.

And Mr. Stark took it. “Okay, kiddo, I’m gonna let of you now so I can get back into my suit, okay? And then I’m gonna pick you up so we can get this party started... whenever you’re ready.”

Peter hesitated, and then pulled himself out of Mr. Stark’s arms. Peter stepped back, looking unsure of himself.

With the tap of a button, the suit completely encased the man in seconds. “Alrighty, then. How do you want to do this, Pete? Piggy-back? Bridal-style?”

Peter was paralyzed with indecision. “I... I... um...”

The faceplate flipped up again and Tony took in the boy’s state, “How’s about dealer’s choice, hey?”

Peter nodded in relief and managed to not squeak when Iron Man scooped him up into his metal arms. “Why don’t you just relax. I’ve got ya’.” And with that, Iron Man rocketed off the rooftop and towards Avengers Tower.

It seemed that Mr. Stark didn’t feel as much urgency returning to the tower as he had when he’d headed over to Peter on the roof.

It was nice.

“Hey, Pete?” Mr. Stark interrupted the quiet, “I’m lookin’ at the injury report that Karen sent FRIDAY. I know you can’t be feeling great, so how’s about we make a quick pit stop at the medbay and get you checked out, huh?”

“I’m fine.” The words left his mouth before he could process it.

Mr. Stark was quiet for a minute, and then, “You know, Pete, just because you can deal with feeling bad or are even used to feeling bad, it doesn’t mean you have to settle for it.”

Peter remained silent.

“You don’t deserve to be in pain, bud.”

How could Peter reply to that? He lowered his head into the Iron Man’s chest and they continued onward.

Within moments, they were touching down on the landing pad outside of the Stark penthouse. Peter waited to be put down, but Mr. Stark walked forward, the suit dismantling around him until it was simply Mr. Stark carrying him.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Hang on, kid. Almost there.” He grunted in exertion.

They made their way to the couch where Tony gently placed Peter, sitting him down on the couch before planting himself on the coffee table in front of it.

“Okay, first things first,” Tony announced and reached forward to carefully remove the Spider-Man mask.

Peter allowed it, but kept his eyes lowered.

But Mr. Stark wouldn’t allow that. Mr. Stark cupped Peter’s cheek and guided Peter’s face upward. Peter tried to look away, but Mr. Stark refused to allow it.

“Peter Parker, you look me in the eye right now, please.”

His tears welled up again, but he did it.

“Good job, kid. Now I need you listen to me, and you listen to me good.”

Peter couldn’t look away.

“You do not need to be okay with feeling bad.”

Peter shook his head to disagree.

Tony continued. “You do not deserve to feel bad,” Tony wiped away Peter’s tears. “And you sure as hell do not need to hide from any of the people that love you that you feel bad.”

Mr. Stark moved his calloused hand from Peter’s face to brush a curl from his forehead. “If you need a list of people who love you, they include, but are not exclusive to: Your Aunt May, Ned, MJ, Rhodey—who still wants you to call him Uncle Rhodey, by the way.”

Peter chuckled.

Mr. Stark beamed, “Now where was I? Oh, yeah! Happy—just don’t tell him I told you,” Mr. Stark gave a conspiratorial wink at that one. “Pepper! And Brucie! Do I need to keep going? ‘Cuz I will. Hell, I bet that guy that makes your sandwiches loves you, kid.”

Peter didn’t know what to say.

“I’m at the top of that list, Peter.” Peter could hear the affection in Mr. Stark’s voice.

“You, Mister Peter Park, are allowed to not be okay. Sometimes life is shit, but half the fun is in getting through this together. You got me?”

Peter managed a timid nod.

“Good, so do you wanna go to the medbay and see if we have something for the killer headache you’ve got to have?”

“Please,” Peter replied.

“You’re feeling pretty bad?”

“Yeah, and, uh...” Peter didn’t quite know how to say it. “Um, I’m not okay.”

Tony shuffled closer, pulled Peter into an all-encompassing hug, and whispered, “I hear you, Peter, but we’re gonna get you there.”

@febuwhump

[parkersharthook]

Angel On Fire

Peter Stark-Rogers & Stark-Rogers!reader (twins)

warnings: weed smokage, family arguing, mentions of sex, insecurity of one’s self

2k+ words

series masterlist

requested: can you write a one shot from the peter Stark Rogers and sibling!reader? Like what is it like when one of them brings a partner over?

Okay so kinda different than requested. y/n doesn’t bring anyone home but it’s talked about

You don’t know how it happened honestly. You had thought you were being sneaky and sly.

Apparently not. Your fathers had found out, and worse of all… they wanted to meet him.

Honestly, youre not sure you’ve heard an idea worse than bringing home the guy you’ve been talking to/hanging out with/maybe your boyfriend/idk you haven’t talked about it. You didn’t even have an actual label for it and you were already bringing him home?!

And of course when you disagreed with your parents about bringin said boy home, they instantly assumed the worst about him, about you, about the relationship.

They’re thought process went:

Don’t want us to meet him?

He’s hiding something.

Drugs.

Criminal record.

Sex offender.

Bad for our daughter.

Let’s kill him.

Let’s have Bucky kill him.

So now here you were, surrounded by your /entire/ family. And they all happened to be talking – read: interrogating – you at once.

It wasn’t until you felt a small tickle in the back of your head did you even lift your gaze from the table. You met eyes with Wanda and she just gave you a sympathetic smile. She was young, she understood this. She’s had more than one partner scared and threatened by Clint, which in turn means Bucky.

You okay?

No.

Hang in there.

The conversation was short and sweet, and it left you feeling slightly better. But then Wanda ended the little connection and you were thrust back into the very loud and very out of control room. Your headache came back immediately.

You groaned and dropped your head back into your hands, letting yourself do what you were good at: ignoring your family’s constant disapproval.

I guess that wans’t fair. You did love your family and you knew they loved you, it was just always so much. And it usually felt like you couldn’t do anything right. There was a reason you spent most nights out and about rather than stuck at home. It was just… suffocating at times. And it wasn’t like you were out doing bad things, maybe a joint here and there, but nothing horrendous.

It wasn’t like your family was your villain origin story or anything. So yeah, you were fine.

“y/n?”

You lifted your head slowly and raised a confused brow, “huh?”

“We were asking you questions.”

“right. Sorry, I was too busy ignoring you guys.”

Clint snorted and then promptly shut his mouth after a harsh glare from Steve. He shook his head stiffly, “not funny. Sorry.”

Tony rolled his eyes and then looked to his daughter. Thank god Morgan was still too young for all of this. “we were curious when we’re going to meet this boyfriend of yours.”

“thinking that he’s not my boyfriend… never. He’s just a guy I’ve been talking to.”

“and hanging out with.” Peter mumbled with obvious distate. You turned to glare at him

“do you want me to punch you in the face?”

“I’d like to see you try.” He countered. And in very you fashion, without warning, you landed a swift punch to Peter’s nose.

He tumbled backwards out of his chair, clutching the nose. Wimp, you had barely hit him.

Steve scrambled to help peter, but mostly everyone was just stunned that you were able to land something on him. Granted, Peter’s spidey sense never really worked around you due to the inexplicable trust he had with you.

You clutched your hand slightly and stood up, “thank you all for your concern. I am not bringing this boy here because he would ignore me the minute it was over and I’m done having things ruined because of my last name. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to make a McDonald’s run and get some all-day breakfast.”

You spun on your heel and walked out of the room, grabbing your hoodie and pushing your feet into your sneakers along the way. “also, please no one follow me. It really kills my mood. Okay thanks, bye!”

-

It was a few hours later and you found yourself on the roof of MJ’s apartment with the girl and a large bag of McDonald’s between the two of you. You had a chocolate shake on the other side of you and she had a sweet tea in her hand. Oh, there was also a joint dangling between her fingers. Pretty standard for the two of you.

You were watching the sun slowly lower in the sky, happy to see the colors beginning to turn pinkish.

MJ took a large sip of her drink before biting in her next hash brown, “you know that James and Sam are following you. They’re a few rooftops over.”

“yeah I know, I pretend to not notice them so I don’t hurt their egos.”

A distant “hey!” was heard and it caused both of you to laugh slightly. And sure enough, a few moments later Bucky and Sam appeared in front of you two, sitting down casually.

Bucky immediately grabbed for the bag of McDonald’s, searching through the napkins for any food. Sucks for him, you had already eaten everything.

Sam however reaches for the joint and quickly snubs it. MJ gives him an pretty impressive unimpressed look, “dude, there’s like half a joint left there. Can I have it back at least?”

“do you have a medical marijuana card?”

“that’s less than two ounces, worse you can do is fine me is fifty bucks.” Sam doesn’t budge. “dude I thought you were the cool avenger.”

Sam grumbles but concedes, handing the joint back. “put it away at least. I can’t be seen hanging around delinquents.”

You took another large sip of your milkshake and gave the duo a cocky grin, “then why do you hang out with Bucky?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, stretching out his leg and nudging you with his boot. You gave him a questioning look and he gestured to your milkshake and then made grabby hands.

“um no. I paid for this, it’s mine.”

Bucky grumbled, “don’t be stingy.”

Sam pushed Bucky roughly, causing the man to obnoxiously fall to his side. Bucky made a barely there effort to sit up before deciding to just stay on his back, his eyes tracing the clouds overhead.

“look, obviously you’re here because my dads asked you to tail me.”

Sam shrugged, “basically but we thought you might wanna talk to us.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled slightly as you saw MJ relight her j. She wordlessly handed it to you and you easily took a drag. “now why would I want to do that?”

Bucky knocked your shoe with a hard knuckle, “because we’re your favorite uncles.”

You snorted. Sam looked at you with obvious disapproval, “you know we don’t care if you smoke weed but can you at least not do it in front of us? That way we can at least pretend to be oblivious to all your teenage rebellion and angst.”

Both you and MJ laughed. She gestured between the two of you, “this isn’t rebellion. We could be at a NYU party right now with coke up our nose if we wanted to. This is chill.”

Bucky grimaced, “please don’t talk about putting cocaine up your noses. It makes me queasy.”

Sam quickly steered the topic of conversation away from drugs, “Look, I know your dads are overbearing and its obvious that Peter doesn’t like the kid so we get that this whole thing is a lot. But there’s got to be a reason you don’t want him to meet us.”

“because he’s only with me for you guys and the minute he meets you, I’ll go back to being friendless and alone.” The brutal honesty took the men by surprise. You felt a small nudge at your side causing you to smile, “minus MJ of course. She’ll always be my friend.”

“damn straight.” She smiled at you as she took her last drag before snubbing it.

You met Sam’s eye with a new amount of emotion he wasn’t used to seeing. You were good at avoiding and you didn’t often get super honest. However, you did have four or five hits earlier and you might be kinda high.

“it’s hard to find genuine people when you have Stark and Rogers as your last name. People want to get with me because they want to meet you guys or get a job at SI. Now I don’t pick people based on their geuninity because it’s not there, I pick people based off what they can do for me.”

“y/n.”

“It’s selfish I know, but if they’re gonna use me might as well get something out of it. Ya know?” You sighed deeply, “his name is brad and he has an actual crush on MJ. So I think he’s not only using me to get into SI because he really wants a job there but he also wants to get closer to MJ.”

Bucky eyed you warily, “and the upside?”

You shrugged, “good kisser, better weed.”

MJ snorted as Sam groaned and dropped his head into his palm, “don’t need to hear that.”

You pulled a lazy smile, “so you don’t want me talking about his dick?”

This time Bucky groaned. “are you just never going to bring anyone home?”

You shrugged and picked at your nails, “maybe eventually. I tried to bring someone home last year. We had been dating for a few months, told Wanda about him and everything. Brought him into the lobby of the tower and he asked if he could get a job here because he knew me. I said ‘probably not’. He shrugged and walked out the door, didn’t talk to me again after that.”

Bucky frowned, “I could kill him for you.”

“MJ already offered.” Bucky gave MJ an approving smile, “he’s not worth it.”

“and this brad…?” Sam ventured carefully

“not worthy of her either.” MJ interjected smoothly, “at this point I’m just waiting for him to fuck up so I can punch him in the face.”

Bucky squinted at her, “why don’t you come over? y/n you need to bring this one home, I like her.”

“She doesn’t like superheroes. Or Dad.”

“yeah… he’s an acquired taste.” Sam said, “can I at least be an exception to the superhero thing?”

MJ tipped her head slightly, “I’ll think about it. Right now the only exceptions are Wanda, Natasha, and Clint.”

“I’m fucking Clint if that helps.”

“ew!” “gross Barnes.” “it actually does.”

There was a moment of silence between the group, and while it wasn’t awfully tense it definitely wasn’t comfortable either.

“you know they mean well.”

You exhaled loudly, “yeah I know and for the most part it isn’t them. But could you imagine if I brought home a boy who I’m literally with for drugs and sex? And then if they found out that guy was only with me because of who my family was? He would be dead in the hour.”

“more like the first 30 minutes.” Bucky snorted

“my dads need to learn to take a no as an answer. Especially about my personal life.”

“I’ll talk to them.” Sam said softly.

“thanks.” You smiled lightly at him, then you gestured at the area, “also… this? Stays between us. Everything.”

“are you kidding me? Steve would kill me if he knew I let you smoke.”

“c’mon kid let’s go back. It’s getting dark.” Bucky stood effortlessly and then extended a hand your way, pulling you to your feet. You did the same for MJ.

“I’ll see you on Monday?”

She nodded, “yeah. Thanks for the breakfast dinner, here I can take your trash.”

“thanks babe. Love you.”

“love you too, get home safe.”

-

You were walking between Sam and Bucky when Bucky nudged you slightly. “why did you punch peter?”

“he’s my brother and he was annoying me? Do I need any more reasons?”

Sam laughed, “guess not. But it was a pretty solid punch.”

You smiled, “He’ll heal in a few hours. Plus, I’m like the only person he trusts enough for me to do that, I gotta abuse it sometimes.”

Bucky clicked his tongue and shook his head in a mix of disappointment and humor, then he asked, “the reason peter doesn’t like brad is because he has a crush on MJ, right?”

“oh yeah.”

“knew it.”

[addictofsupernatural]

Spidey Senses (pt. 3)

Peter Parker x reader

Summary: You and Peter suit up and fight.

Word Count: 2730

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 4

You woke up in Peter's warm arms, feeling his chest rising and falling peacefully. You slowly got out of his warmth and out into the cold room, where you took a quick shower. While in the shower, Peter woke up and figured it would be nice to get out a pair of clothes for you, laying it out on the bed before going back to sleep for a bit. You grabbed the clothes with a smile and changed in the bathroom. While you were doing that, there was a knock at the door.

Peter got up and opened the door, with low waisted sweat pants and no shirt. Happy furrowed his brows. "What are you doing in y/n's room? Where is she?"

"I think she's changing now in the bathroom. Did something happen?"

"Were you in here with her all night?" Happy was enraged at the misunderstanding situation he was watching.

"Um, yeah?" Peter leaned on the door, which pissed Happy off even more. Was he just eating this up?!

"What the hell is wrong with you? She's only 15, and you're seriously going to toy with her feelings just to sleep with her? Have some respect for her, and yourself!"

As Happy yelled at Peter, Peter was backing up out of shock, causing Happy to walk in. "No no no no no! It isn't like that!"

You got out of the bathroom, having heard Happy's voice and just finished changing. "What'd I miss?"

"Happy thinks we had, like, sex or something!" Peter looked at you in a panic.

"Woah!" You walked in between Happy and Peter. "It's really not what it looks like. I get nightmares so Peter slept in the same room with me. That's it."

"Oh." He shifted his feet awkwardly. "My, my bad. Sorry."

You smiled. "Thank you for defending my honor though. That's really sweet of you." He smiled and nodded back. "So did you want to tell us something?"

"Oh, right." He walked to a different door and opened it, revealing another room.

"Woah, was that a part of our rooms too?!" Peter asked.

"Oh my God that's so cool." You whisper yelled.

Happy geastured to the two suitcases, and Peter got out his phone to record. "Is, is this for for us?" He excitedly asked.

"Who else would it be for?" Happy said.

"This is the coolest thing I've ever seen!" Peter quickly said, almost out of breath. Happy then walked away. "Wait, Happy!"

You then bounced up and down. "This is awesome!" You both put on your outfits facing away from each other. "Okay, ready?"

"Yeah."

"1, 2, 3!" You both turned around to see each other in your super suits. "You look amazing!"

"So do you!" You both hugged each other, and Peter spun you around. You had one mask to cover your eyes and another one to cover your mouth and nose.

"What are you two doing?" Happy came in again.

"We put them on?" You said, confused.

"No, you don't put them on yet. We're taking a plane and then you two put them on. I just wanted you guys to grabs the suitcases."

You both put on your normal clothing over the suits, Peter recording the two of you messing around. You went on the private plane and messed around some more, with Peter waking up to a sleeping Happy as a prank. That's when you got to the empty airport and waited for your signal.

You glaced at Peter, only to see him taking out his camera and still filming. "Are you recording this too?!"

"I need to get everything." He then pointed the camera to you. "Alright, let's see that face."

"This face isn't gonna be front and center in your videos Peter. You know I hate seeing myself on camera." You turned away from him.

He felt a little bad for reminding you of your insecurities, but decided that teasing you would make you feel better. "C'mon, just a little." He reach over and pulled down your mouth mask. "Let's just get the smile and..." He pulled over your eye mask as well. "Aww, see? You look nice."

He pinched your cheek and you giggled, swatting his hand away. "Okay, you got me. I guess I'm in your video diary."

"Don't worry folks, we got her smile." He teased some more. You put back on your masks and hugged him from the side as he talked to the camera one on one.

"Underoos!"

The signal was then shouted, and you both swooped in, you shooting a web at Steve's arm while Peter grabbed his shield. "Hey everyone." Peter said.

"Did we miss something?" You teased.

A big fight erupted quickly, and you were defending everyone whenever you could. You and Peter were with the Falcon for a bit. "So what's your suit made out of? Carbon fiber?"

You hung upside down and stared at the fallen Falcon. "That would explain the flexibility ratio."

"So Tony just hired teenager hims now?" Sam asked sarcastically.

"Does our intelligence threaten you?" You asked seriously before giggling and coming back to the ground. "I'm totally kidding man. I love your wings and I'm a pretty big fan."

Then there was that amazing moment for you when Clint was coming at the Black Panther, who was trying to get to the Ant Man. As he was running you ran over to him, sliding on your knees as you stuck out your arms. "Need a lift?" You asked.

You then boosted him up where he hopped right above Clint and punching Ant Man. "Thank you young one."

"Course sir!"

Soon the Ant Man was suddenly huge, and you followed in Peter's lead of wrapping him in webbing. You then heard Peter ask, "Hey, have you guys seen that really old movie Empire Strikes Back?"

You bursted into a fit of giggles over the question, and you heard, "Jesus Tony, how old are these kids?"

"Just hear Peter out sir." You suggested.

He was panting from working hard at this point, as were you. "You guys remember... on the snow planet... with the walking thingies!"

"I think the kid might be onto something." Tony said. Sure enough, it worked.

"Yes~!" You cheered.

"That was awesome–!" You and Peter both got cut off from the slap of the Ant Man's hand. You both slammed into the ground, where Tony told you guys that you did a great job, and that you were done.

You both took off your masks. "So," you said breathlessly. "We just fought with the Avengers."

"I stole Captain America's shield." You both giggled.

When you both got up and retrieved Peter's camera, you saw that Happy was waiting in his car outside. You both got in and sighed at the comfort of sitting on cushions. "Rough fight?" He asked.

"The guy with the metal arm was pretty cool." You said. "And I like Falcon's suit."

"I like how Mr. Stark vouched for us with the War Machine." Peter said.

"You two look like crap." You gave Happy a smile at the comment. "You're going to be in the hotel for the rest of the day, and Tony's gonna come with you tonight to drop you two off."

Once you two were in your hotel room, Peter rambled on to his camera, and you put in some information occasionally. Once Happy came and told him to shut up, he turned off the camera and faced you.

"So I have, like, a huge favor to ask." You sat on your bed and patted him to sit as well, which he did. "I need help with talking to Liz."

"W–um, okay." You said slowly. It's fine. You were his friend, and you had to help him out. Even if it hurt. "It's easy, just talk to me and pretend I'm her."

"Okay." He said quietly.

"Hey Peter." You said and smiled.

"H...Hey Liz."

"How was your day?"

"It was, um, it was good. How's your day? Did you–Did you have a good time, or... not that you were going anywhere but if your day in general was a good time. Y'know, sometimes you could just be at school and have a good time or—"

"Peter stop." You said, giving him a wide grin as you covered his mouth with your hand. "You need to take a deep breath and calm down."

"I know, it's just really hard when I'm talking to her." He sighed in defeat. "I'm just gonna keep looking stupid in front of her. What's the point."

"Don't say that." you said quietly. You leaned into the headboard, and opened your arms. He laid down into your side, fitting perfectly. You began stroking his soft hair. "You don't look stupid, and you never have. You just need to be confident with yourself and talk to her as if you were talking to any other girl. You're amazing Peter, of course she'll like you back."

He tightened his grip around you. "Thanks y/n. You're amazing too."

You both dozed off, but unlike the peaceful Peter in your arms, you fell asleep upset with the doubts about yourself kicking in. Your dreams went back to the thought of your mom and her friends. The drugs. You couldn't stop them from putting a needle in you. You thrashed around but they pinned you down. You yelled out for someone to help you, but they covered your mouth. Nobody's going to help you.

"Y/n wake up!"

You jolted up from your bed, where Peter was shaking you awake. You had tears in your eyes. "I... They held me down... I couldn't move..."

"It's okay. It's just you and me. Nobody else." He brought you into his arms as you hugged him tightly, quietly sobbing.

Happy then came into the room. "What happened?"

"It's nothing, she just had a nightmare." You hid your face in Peter's shirt, not wanting Happy to see you like this. "She doesn't like people seeing her cry."

"Oh, uh, sorry." He then left the room.

After a bit you stopped crying, Peter being patient with you the whole time. "Are you okay now?"

"I guess." You sat up and turned away from him, putting your face in your hands. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"It's okay, sometimes you just need to let out a good cry." He scooted closer to you. "Can I see your face please?"

"Why?" Your voice came out as a whisper.

"Cause you're hiding it from me." He gently moved your hands. "Look, I found my best friend."

You smiled and went on your knees to wrap him in a hug. "Thank you Peter. You always make me happy."

At that moment, Peter noticed how good you smell. He's always been around your familiar scent, but it was never this good before. And you hair, was it always so soft and shiny? You felt so soft and warm right now. He didn't know how to describe it, but you just felt so overwhelmingly nice in his arms.

It was cut short by Happy knocking as Tony barged in. "Alright, time to go." You both sperated and quickly got your stuff. As you were leaving Tony blankly told you, "Your face is puffy. Why?"

"Your ego is huge. Why?"

"Fair enough." You and Peter packed up the car when when Happy whispered to you, making sure you were okay. "Y/n, you and me are in the back. Kid you go in the front."

"Um, Mr. Stark sir." Peter fiddled with the bottom of his shirt.

"Look at me in the eye when you're talking to me." Peter's head quickly shot up. "Okay, what?"

"Please don't pressure her with questions. She's been through some stuff and I don't think it's fair if–"

"Peter, it's okay." You said. "He's still gonna overstep. I don't mind."

"Okay." You both smiled at each other as you went into the car.

"Happy put up the divider." Once it was up, he turned to you. "So you two had a moment."

"It's not a moment, I just had a nightmare. And by the way, what did you say to him yesterday?"

"I was just helping him compare you to that other girl." He said casually.

"You what? Wha–why would you do that? She's like, actual perfection!"

"And what do you think you are?"

"Nowhere near her." You sighed and looked out the window. "Well that explains him asking for help on talking to her."

"Oh wow, what an idiot. That's not at all what I was going for." He put his hand under his chin.

"I know but he gets like that with her. He really likes her Tony. Thanks for trying to help, but me and him are hopeless."

"I call bullshit on that. You two are adorable, and I can tell you'll end up together."

"Thanks." You smiled.

He knocked on the dividers, and you and Peter switched places, only with the dividers down. Peter talked to his camera some more, and Tony caught him, making a joke about it before talking into the camera as well. He then told the two of you that you were keeping the suits.

"One question I do have is for the other kid."

"Is he talking about me?" You mumbled to Happy.

"I think he is." He mumbled back.

"Did he just call me the 'other kid'? That's so rude." You then turned to Tony, smiling at Happy's quiet, high pitched chuckle. "What's up?"

"Why do you call me Tony instead of Mr. Stark like Peter? You called everyone else sir."

"That's not true. I call my new best friend Happy by his name."

Happy looked at you and awkwardly shook his head. "She doesn't mean that Tony."

"Yes I do. I'm stealing your friends. Now I just need to meet James Rhodes and Pepper Potts."

Peter let out a chuckle, and Tony laughed as well. "Watch it kid. And that didn't answer my question."

You shrugged. "I don't know, just sounds right. I guess I can try." You made your voice sound more mature when you asked, "Will that be all Mr. Stark?"

"Okay now you sound like Pepper, which is really creepy for me."

You giggled. "Tony it is."

"Oh, and before I forget." He took out a check and stuck his hand out for you to take it. "Here you go."

You only stared at it. "What's that for?"

He lightly scoffed. "You don't really think I'm not gonna help you out when you're living in a dump like that."

You frowned, and the car came to a stop at your apartment complex. "That dump is what I call home Tony." You said quietly. "I'm proud of it."

"No offense kid, but you really shouldn't be proud of that." Peter said nothing, but his body language changed.

"Well I, the 15 year old, got an apartment by herself. I got a job to pay for my living, and I cook and clean for myself. I even started buying cable recently. So yeah, I'd say I'm proud of what I managed to do. Some people aren't as lucky as me. I'm not a charity case, so don't treat me like one."

He hesitated. "I didn't mean–"

"Goodbye Mr. Stark." You then got out of the car, and they heard a glimpse of you saying "Linda!"

"I'll take the check Mr. Stark." Peter said. "I'll make sure she takes it tomorrow. She just gets angry and embarrassed when people look down on her. It's happened to her a lot, but she'll realize that you did it out of kindness."

Tony stared out the window. "Who's that?"

Peter saw that you were talking to a homeless girl, and buying a newspaper from her. "That's Linda. Y/n became friends with her not too long after she moved into the apartment. They talk, sometimes she cooks for Linda and let's her shower, and Linda sometimes leaves some money on y/n's counter. Maybe like a dollar or two. Y/n doesn't say anything about it so she doesn't embarrass Linda."

Meanwhile, you were talking to your friend outside. "Okay, I'll get us something to eat. I don't really have anything made so cereal it is."

"Lucky charms." She called out as you ran up the stairs.

"Got it!"

While you were preoccupied, Peter and Tony got out of the car. "Hey Linda." Peter said.

"Hey Peter! I'm sure your internship trip was fun with y/n."

Peter chuckled. "Yeah it was awesome."

"Kid go get her bags." Peter didn't say anything is he went to the trunk to get your suitcases. "Hi. Tony."

"You're..."

"Yup. Do you have a bank account?"

"Well, no."

"Then here." He took off his watch and handed it to her. "This is all I really have on me at the moment."

"Holy shit. Um, thank you sir!"

"Don't mention it." Just as you came down the steps with two bowls in hand, Tony nodded to you and went into the car.

"I'll bring these up to your apartment for you." Peter said.

"You have a lot to tell me you little shit." Linda said, grinning wide. "You didn't mention Tony Stark being a part of your internship tour."

"Ugh, I guess I could tell you a little bit." You teased.

"I just want to hear about him. Holy crap he's hotter in person."

"Do you ever not cuss Linda? Like, shit bro."

"What are you gonna do, tell my parents? And what about you? You just cussed."

"What are you gonna do, tell my parents?" You chuckled.

She scoffed and looked down at her bowl. "That was a pretty good come back."

"Okay, your stuff is in your living room." Peter said as he came out. You both hugged. "Good night."

"Night." He then left you to your nosy and thirsty friend.

---

Author's Note: Sorry this took long to do. I'll be quicker from now on.

---

Tag List:

@flawlessapollo6 @them-cute-boys @lunawndrlnd @the-greatt-perhaps @babebenhardy @sofisofi1602 @smilexcaptainx

[kookicat]

Control the Storm

Control the Storm

She's seen them all through an injury or two, from the minor to the holy shit life threatening accident that made her heart crawl up into her throat. She knows them, knows Casey gets nausea when he's shocky, knows Severide seems fine right up to the point where he crashes, knows that if the boys are bitching and complaining they're okay. It's when they go quiet that she starts to worry. Which is why something about the way Casey retreats to his quarters after the call set her spidey sense tingling.

She follows, slowly, in case she's wrong and he's fine and just taking a shower. The pinch in her gut is insisting otherwise and she wouldn't be half the paramedic she is without listening to it. They all know the drill but occasionally someone will try to slide an injury past the medics. It's not usually Casey though.

The blinds are drawn in his quarters and the low level anxiety she's been feeling spikes into something sharper. She taps her knuckles sharply on the door and waits, counting impatiently to ten before she eases the door open.

"Casey?" she asks and gets a groan in return. It sends a spike of ice through her and she has to swallow past it before she can speak again. "What's going on?"

He's curled up on the bed, one arm clamped over his eyes, the other gripping the pillow under his head so tightly that his knuckles are white. What skin she can see is pale and clammy, jaw clenched so hard she's surprised that his teeth aren't creaking. His shoes are in a haphazard pile by the bed and one socked foot is digging in the bed.

"Slyvie?" he mumbles.

"Yep," she says and eases down next to him. He looks worse up close, not just pale but exhausted, with shadows etched deep under his eyes. "Migraine?"

"Yeah," he grates out, and swallows hard.

They've been through this before, a couple of times, and they've found a routine that works. This is the worst I've ever seen him with them though, she thinks.

"Okay," she says and rubs his back gently. "Does the chief know? Did you get your meds?"

"Yes and yes," he mumbles and covers his eyes a bit more tightly. Even the dim light in the room feels like it's a blowtorch slicing straight into his brain.

She can tell that talking hurts but she needs to know. He licks his lips and swallows, gulping and she knows he's going to puke. There's a bag lined trash can next to the bed already and he rolls towards it blindly. She gets her knees on the bed behind him, supporting him, and feels his muscles get tighter with every dry heave. Beads of sweat dot his face, clinging to his eyelashes. His hands are fisted in the sheets, hanging on to them like he's in a storm and they're all that's keeping him from being washed away.

She rubs his back, knowing she needs to grab supplies before he gets any worse. But I don't want to leave him alone like this, either. The retching subsides and she reaches for the bottle on the nightstand next to the bed, offering it to him.

"Fuck no," he says faintly and pushes it away. "It'll set me off again."

"Just wet your mouth," she says and offers it again. Dehydration is one of his main triggers and usually he's good at staying hydrated. The fire had been a bad one and they'd all been dripping with sweat before it was under control. She'd pressed a bottle of water on him, even seen him drink it. His electrolytes are probably off, she thinks and stands, leaving Casey curled on his side.

"I'll be right back," she says and hurries to the ambulance, grabbing what she needs. Two banana bags, a dose of Zofran for the nausea, and a couple of ice packs. She fills her pockets with IV supplies and gloves and grabs a dose of Toradol. He normally manages without it but this one is bad, and the meds will help.

Severide is heading into his quarters when she starts back with the supplies. He stops, eying them and the closed blinds on Matt's side, one eyebrow lifting. "What's going on?"

"Migraine," she says and bites her lip. "If this doesn't help, it might be a hospital job."

Worry creases his face. "That bad? What can I do to help?"

"Grab some blankets? And ask the chief to take 61 out of service for a couple of hours?"

Taking Ambo off duty is a lot to ask, and she knows that. She also knows that Casey needs her help and there are plenty of other paramedics to pick up the slack for a bit while she gets him over the worst of the migraine. None of them want him to end up at the ER.

"Sure thing," Severide says and ducks past her, heading towards the laundry room where they keep a stack of freshly laundered supplies.

She opens the door, eyes fixed on the bed. Casey hasn't moved, still curled on his side, breathing a little strained. Just looking at him makes her hurt in sympathy. The lines of pain on his face could have been carved from stone. His shirt is a little damp where he's been sweating and he's shivering a bit in the cool air.

"Hey," she says, pitching her voice low, and kneels by the bed. "If you can roll on your back for me, I've got some stuff that'll help."

He blinks, visibly gathering his strength and eases over onto his back, one hand flexing at his side. His head feels like it's going to explode, and part of him wishes it would, put him out of his misery. Saliva floods his mouth and he knows he's going to throw up again. He's helpless against the wave, can barely turn his head before it swamps him and he's losing what little has remained in his stomach.

Brett turns him just in time, pressing a sick bag to his mouth, rubbing soothing circles on his back. He's chalky pale apart from the bright spots of colour on his cheeks and his pulse is racing with the effort. His stomach convulses one last time and he turns his head, one shaking hand coming up to rub his mouth. There are galaxies stampeding through his brain, tearing him apart and he needs it to stop before there's nothing left of him.

"Here," Sylvie says and activates a cold pack, wrapping it in a drape and presses it into his hand. "See if this helps." She seals the sick bag and drops it in the bin.

He fumbles the ice pack up to his forehead. The cold is instantly soothing and it takes the edge of the pain enough for him to crack his eyes open, watching as she lays out the supplies. Aura makes the room swim in his gaze and he swallows miserably as nausea starts to churn in his stomach again. He's pretty sure there's nothing left to come up.

"This is going to pinch," she warns as she slips some gloves on and opens the IV kit. He needs fluids and she's picked a larger bore than she'd normally use.

"Just do it," he mumbles, tugging the ice pack down so it covers his eyes and blocks out the light. He shivers, suddenly cold, suddenly wishing that he was at home in his own bed. He can't remember a time when he was this miserable.

Sylvie squeezes his arm. "Hang in there, Matt. I got ya." She deftly places the IV in his forearm, wincing when he flinches, then tapes it down and disposes of the needle. She hooks up the first bag and gets it running. "Okay, here comes the good drugs," she says and injects them both through the IV. "Just some Toradol for the pain and Zofran for the nausea."

It's a cocktail he's had before and he knows that it works. Some part of his brain is grateful that she's remembered, because he's in no state to tell anyone anything about his medical history.

The meds wash through him, already blunting the pain. A wave of lethargy follows it and he gives into it gratefully, letting it pull him into a doze. It’ll take real deep sleep to shift the migraine entirely but he’s not there yet, as much as he longs for the oblivion it would provide.

The door to his quarters opens and he fights the urge to open his eyes, sit up, to see who else is seeing him in this state but the pull of the drugs wins out and he lets go, floating somewhere between waking and sleeping.

“Here,” Severide says, keeping his voice low, and passes a couple of blankets to Sylvie. “How’s he doing?” The other man looks like hell and it hurts that he can't do anything more to help.

“Better than he was.” She takes them and shakes one out over Casey. The room is chilly and she knows that if he’s cold, he won’t get the sleep he so desperately needs. The sight makes something catch in her chest and she covers it by unfolding the other blanket and putting it over him too. “He had me worried, this time.”

“He’s got us all worried.” Severide rubs his face, then shakes his head. “Damn man has more lives than a cat.” He sighs, unable to keep his eyes from drifting to his best friend’s face. “Boden has cover for you and Casey for the rest of shift. He says to finish up any outstanding paperwork.”

The ball of tension in her gut eases slightly now she knows she won’t be pulled away from her patient on a call. “Thanks.”

Severide nods. “No problem. Matt makes sure we’re alright. We owe him the same decency.” He pats her shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything.”

"I will," she says and gives him a brief smile as he ducks out of the door, closing it gently behind him.

Matt's eyes are closed and his breathing is slow and regular but she knows that he's not asleep. There's enough tension in his jaw to crack walnuts and she'd put good money on his neck and shoulders being the same. It's where he carries his stress and it isn't helping his migraine to go away.

She rubs her hands together, debating whether a back rub would cross any boundaries.

He shifts on the bed, the movement dragging a pained breath out of his chapped lips and she decides that she doesn't care. She lifts the chair and carries it to the bed, setting it down.

"Hey, Matt," she says and touches his arm.

It takes him a few seconds to open his eyes and when he does, they're slightly dazed as they track to her face.

Whoops, she thinks maybe he was more asleep than I thought.

"Sylvie?" he makes her name a question, voice rough, and she gets that strange pinch in her chest again.

"Everything's okay." She smiles at him. "I just want to try something new and didn't want to spring it on you because it means kinda getting in your face."

It takes him two tries but he eventually manages to pat her arm with his free hand. "I trust you," he says, eyes meeting hers, open and startlingly honest.

It dries her mouth in a wave of emotion that she can't quite manage to name. It fills her in a rush of warmth, bringing a lump to her throat. It's affection, more, much much more than she feels for any of her other colleagues and the implications behind it terrify and intrigue her in equal measure.

"Okay, here goes," she says, reaching towards his face with both hands. Stubble scrapes under her fingers, rasping against her skin and she suddenly wonders how it would feel against other parts of her body. The thought shocks her, brings a rush of heat to her cheeks.

"You're blushing," he mummers, sounding faintly puzzled, but his eyes are heavy lidded and he blinks, then just lets them close, too exhausted to even try to figure it out. Her fingers move in small circles on the big muscles in his jaw and he yawns, the aching tension there suddenly releasing.

Her hands move to the back of his neck, working on the long muscles there. She's leaning over him, close enough for him to pick up the subtle scent of her perfume, something soft and sweet and a little musky.

He's never noticed it before and now he has, he likes it. The tension is draining from him and he's on the edge of sleep, head still throbbing but in a distant, disconnected way that's much more bearable.

"How are you doing?" she asks, fingers working away at a knot at the base of his skull.

Between the migraine and the drugs and the fact that if she keeps the massage going he's going to be asleep in about ten seconds, he can't find words so just hums in approval.

The stubborn knot finally gives under her hands and she moves on to his shoulders, feeling his breathing change as he finally gives into sleep. She eases back, not wanting to disturb him, and checks the IV bag, slowing the rate now that most of it is in him.

His body is relaxed in sleep and she knows he's likely to be that way for a while. It's been a long shift so she toes her shoes off and props her feet on the bed next to his hip, tipping her head back to rest against the chair back, intending just to rest for a moment before she gets up and finds her paperwork. Sleep steals over her before she knows it.

Minutes or hours later, Severide eases the door open, having been sent by Boden. They're both still asleep and he backs out, retrieving another blanket before returning to throw it over Sylvie.

The sight of them napping is precious and he takes a quick pic on his phone before leaving them to it.

Shift change rouses Matt and he blinks, spreading a moment catching his bearings, mouth quirking into a smile at the sight of the sleeping woman.

"Hey," he says, and tweaks her foot, waiting until her eyes open. "Thank you."

She smiles, still sleepy, and it's the cutest thing he's seen in a while. "You're welcome."

[elwenn-dreaming]

The Truth

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange

For @lbigreyhound13, prompt: Peter and Tony got kidnapped.

This is my first fanfiction ever, so I do hope you enjoy. Also no beta, we die like men, which is to say very undignifiedly. And hopefully without too many grammar mistakes.

A dripping sound. That’s the first thing that came to Peter’s mind. Funny, how his hearing comes to awareness first, when there was so many more important informations to be obtained otherwise. For example, by concentrating on his smell he could have identified that distinctive scent of wet dirt and closed space characteristic of cellars, as well as a faint smell of rain. Touch could have informed him of a clay floor littered with gravels that dug in his back and thighs and of the length of rough rope tied around his wrists and ankles. And his sight would have told him of grey stone walls, of a small barred window underneath the roof wich seemed to be on floor level, and near a gutter judging by the irregular flow of water running down the wall and the aforementioned dripping sound, and of Tony Stark’s prone form on the ground. So really, hearing wasn’t that primordial, thought Peter.

Wait. He froze. Prone form?

‘Mr Stark? Can you hear me?’

Well fuck. Prone he was, and prone he stayed. Still. Unmoving. Unresponsive. You get the idea.

Peter sat up, a task quite complicated by his hands tied behind his back and his fuzzy head. The world swam before his eyes and he had to close his eyes, swallowing to keep back the nausea. He then crawled to the man’s side, letting out a shaky breath at the sight of his chest rising and falling, though slowly, at least regularly. Peter sat himself against the wall and thought.

They were not here voluntarily, and were in fact both tied up. Most likely kidnapped, then. He had been uncounscious, but not for too long, as it was still day outside. He doubted he could have been unconscious until the next day, as their unknown captors had no mean to know he was spiderman, they would not have adjusted the drug dose. Which explained why he was conscious while Mr Stark was not. That was good news, too, it meant said man’s state was not preoccupying. Probably not.

This being said, there was still the matter of getting out of here. On the bright side, their captors didn’t know his secret identity, and that put him at an advantage. On the less bright side, he didn’t think he could go very far while carrying an unconscious Iron Man on the back. Even with his super strength and enhanced healing factor, he would have to wait a bit until the world went back to a reasonably stable state, so breaking out of an unknown place with Mr Stark out cold to carry and potential baddies all around was out of the question. He studied their cell to pass the time. The ceiling was about ten feet high, and the window quite narrow. An adult man would not be able to pass through. A teenager, maybe. The rain bothered him, but he could not place why. Maybe because the humidity was filling the cell and infiltrating into his very bones, chilling the April air, so that he soon began to shiver. Everything was slightly damp. The door. Why had he not thought about the door sooner? Maybe, just maybe, if he was lucky, the kidnappers, not knowing of his super strength, would have made a door weak enough that he could kick it down when they would be ready to leave. He glanced hopefully. Nope, the wooden door looked thick enough, and he couldn’t see any lock, which meant it was probably barred (because what kidnapper would leave an open door, right?) and more importantly, that they couldn’t pick it. He sighed dejectedly.

Peter didn’t know how long he had been sitting there for. It was still day, so it couldn’t have been that long as it should have been at least mid-afternoon when he woke up. It felt longer though. His head had cleared up, so there was that. He heard a groan.

‘Mr Stark? It’s me, Peter, we’re in a cell I think, but it’s not a prison cell don’t worry. Actually it means we’ve been kidnapped so maybe it should worry you more. i’m just rambling, soory. Are you awake?

- No I’m not. Hmph. Head feels all funny.’

Tony wriggled unsuccessfully.

‘I’m tied up. Why am I tied up?

- That might be the kidnapping part.

- Oh. Right.’

Peter promptly filled him in, though it did seem to him that Tony was not yet fully aware of everything. Drugs do that to you.

‘I’m pretty sure I can break that rope, they didn’t take spidey into account. I don’t quite know about going out though.’

He let out a small groan. The rope was no match to his enhanced strength, but the position was not ideal and it dug painfully in the flesh of his wrists. He then quickly undid his and his mentor’s ties.

‘I don’t think we can go far until your dizziness has passed at the very least.

- Dizziness? I’m perfectly fine, let’s get out of here.’

Tony tried to stand up, but he was not half way up that he felt lightheaded, and would have fallen much ungracefully were it not for Peter, steadying him and gently guiding him to sit on the floor next to him.

‘We can wait you know. Nothing’s urgent, laughed Peter.

- Yeah. Yeah of course.’

Tony’s voice was quavering, breath shallow.

‘Mr Stark? Mr Stark, are you okay?’

Cold. The cold was slithering through his flesh, nesting in his bones, hissing in his hears. Or maybe it was just the voices, the pain in his chest, and the water, head in the water, dripping on the walls, and so, so cold.

‘… ay? Do … me?’

Tony became aware of a hand shaking his arm, and the hands were gripping him and forcing him under the water and… No. No. He had to breathe. It was Peter right next to him, he had to put his shit together before he noticed and…

‘I’m fine. Perfectly fine. Just got a little dizzy, you were right. Can still feel the efects of whatever it was they drugged us with. Which is completely unfair, how come you are all fresh as a daisy while I get to feel like someone let a toddler play legos with my bowels?’

Peter stared at him for longer than he would have liked, but eventually seemed to accept it.

‘Right! So, about getting out… no lock to pick and I don’t quite think I could break it open. I mean, I can try, but it’s likely barred, and it’s solid oak.

- No, you’re right, we should try that window instead.

- No offense Mr Stark but I don’t think you could pass through it.

- Are you calling me fat, young man?’

Peter blushed and avoided his eyes. ‘I didn’t... that’s not what I meant, it’s just that...

- Stop, Pete! Just joking! I can’t pass through, but you can. So you climb that wall with those sticky fingers of yours, you get out of here and find help to arrest our new would-be supervillains, and get me out too.

- I’m not leaving you here alone!

- Right, because the both of us freezing to death in here is so much better. That was not a suggestion, Peter.’

The teenager looked ready to object, but gave in to his mentor’s stern gaze. He obligedly climbed to the opening in the wall and put his hands on the windowsill. And stopped dead. He let himself fall to the ground, landing gracefully on his feet and turning towards the older mark.

‘Looks like I won’t be able to pass either. It’s one of those windows that are wide from the inside and getting thinner on the outside. The wall is also much thicker than I expected, at least 3 feet thick.

- The door it is then. Kick it down, kid!’

The teenager then broughed his shoulder to a not-quite-gentle contact with the door, which did not budge one bit. He repeated the action several times, but to no avail, until finally the hard wood started to splinter. He tore down the door as he could, and stopped dead.

‘Kid? What is it?’

Tony scrambled to his feet and walked – well, stumbled would be a more accurate term but not one he would ever admit to – to the door, a liitle pale after the few steps that brought the opening in his line of sight. He resigned himself to lean on Peter’s shoulder, as it was still slightly more dignified than falling on his ass.

‘What. The. Fuck.’

Behind the thick plancks of oak was a brick wall, which, if it did contrast to the old grey stone of the cell, looked like it had been there for quite some time, and was solid enough.

‘Seriously? The window, then that? Who the fuck does that?

- Yeah but, Mr Stark, if the door is not a door and the window is not large enough… How did we get here? A secret door?

- You know what? Probably.’ He laughed. ‘A secret door. I love secret doors. Although putting a false door on top of it is a bit of an overshoot, don’t you think?

- Definitly. No sense of style, said Peter in a very serious tone.

- Better go and find it then. Now, if I were a secret door, where would I go?’

It was only after a long search that they had to admit to the evidence, there was no secret door.

Tony let himself slide down the wall. Although the effects of the drug had past, he still felt uneasy at the thought of being stuck. He looked at his hand in wonder. It was trembling slightly. Now that he thought about it, his whole body was in fact shivering. A rythmic sound was echoing in his ears. Only after a while did he understand that it was his teeth chattering. The cold and damp spring day air seemed to be sucking all the warmth out of him. On the other side of the room was Peter, eyes closed, also sitting against the wall. Only his fingers tapping against his knee betrayed that he was not asleep. He seemed to be unbothered by the cold. Which was really unfair in Tony’s opinion. Cold and damp spring day air. Tony froze, thoughts twirling around his mind like fireflies, too quick for him to grasp but fragments, eventually all coming together to form a picture out the jigsaw puzzle pieces. In front of him Peter suddenly jumped to his feet and all but shouted :

‘Something’s wrong!

- Yeah. The light. We have been searching for at least two hours, and I was awake for maybe an hour before. And you have been awake for even longer.

- At least an hour, maybe two I’d say. And it was around three or four pm that we were taken.

- Which leads us to a bare minimum of seven pm, given that we don’t know how long you’ve been out for. Given your metabolism and the time I spend uncounscious alone, it is unlikely that it be more than two hours. So somewhere between eight and eleven pm.

- And it’s still day.

- Furthermore, it wasn’t raining anywhere around New York. Not in a 200 mile radius.

- And the walls. Where do you even find walls that thick in the US?

- And nobody in their right mind would build that type of window on floor level.’

They shared a long glance.

‘There is no door, they said at the same time.

- We cannot be here. And yet here we are, mused Tony.

- Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.

- I didn’t know you read Sherlock Holmes. But that would mean…

- We are, in fact, not here, said Peter. And there was steel in his voice, an unstoppable result.

- Then where are we? And why do we think we are here?

- I don’t know, a simulation? A magical illusion? Can’t be a drug, we would not hallucinate together. More important, how do we get out of it? Do you have a red pill or something?’

Tony woke with a gasp. He was shirtless, in dimly lit, narrow space. Electrodes were linked to his temples, chest and arms. He tried to shake himslef free of them, but his wrist were bound to the bottom of the sarcophagus-like box he was in. He felt panic rise, trying harder and harder to get himself out of his restraints, but only succeeding in wounding the skin of his wrists. His breaths were shallow and frenetic, and tears began to stream down his face, uncontrollable. He tried to force himself to count, but the numbers were drowned by the voices of long-gone people, and how could he breathe anyway, when there was water around him, and in his nose and his mouth, and there was no air in space, and he was gasping uselessly. He could not move and he watched helplessly as his arc reactor was taken from his chest. The lid was ripped open, and hands were gently removing, and freeing his wrists. He raised them, trying to protect his chest, to push away the hands that were forcing him underwater. To his suprise they retreated immediately, and there was a voice, asking him to breathe, and counting again. His breathing slowed down eventually, and he felt the hands on his back, helping him out of wretched box. He stumbled, and someone was here, catching him, and lowerig gim to sit on the ground.

‘Peter…?

- It’s me Mr Stark. You’re okay. We’re out of it now. We should hurry though. I knocked out the guy that was here, but others might come. Can you stand now?’

Tony felt himself blush in shame. Now was really not the time, and Peter shouldn’t have had to deal with that.

‘I’m good.’

He grabbed the hand Peter lend him nonetheless, and quickly got on his feet.

"Let’s get out of here. And… kid… Thanks.’

Peter looked at him, and then smiled. ‘Let’s kick some baddies’ asses!

- Language!

-I’m gonna do as if you didn’t just say that Mr Stark.’

He ruffled Peter’s hair affectionately. He grabbed the torn door and smiled. It was high time they escaped, they didn’t want to stain their statistics.

[gloriafc]

How he acts when you're pregnant:Paul Lahote

He's actually the one who points out something is off about you.

"I can't explain it, something just sounds off." "You want me to go to the doctor because something... sounds off? What drug did you take?" "I'm serious babe." "And I'm serious about the drug."

You reluctantly get in the car as Paul takes you to the free clinic.

Ohhh but neither of you expect what the doctor tells you.

"Nothing's wrong with you. The tests we took show that you're pregnant."

You both sit in silence as the doctor does an ultrasound, playing your baby's heartbeat so you can hear. You can feel Paul gripping your hand as you wrap your head around the fact that you have a human inside of you.

"Alright judging by the size of the fetus you look to be about 8½ weeks along."

The two of you stay silent as you walk back to the car, ultrasound pictures in hand with a list of prenatal vitamins you should start taking. It's not until you're both sitting in the parked car staring at the clinic you just came from, that the news actually hits you.

"Dude I have two hearts!"

Paul stares at you before starting to laugh making you laugh as well. Having kids was something you two talked about when you first got engaged, now you're married. Now neither of you can contain your excitement, but you both know it's bad luck to tell anyone until your second trimester.

"I don't care if Jared's your best friend. It's bad juju, and I will not have it and it's negative energy. You don't see me telling Emily."

Since finding out the off sound he heard was your baby's heartbeat in sync with yours, he stays up listening to it on nights he can't sleep, or when you fall asleep before him.

Since he's the only one of the pack that's so in tune to you, no one notices the extra heartbeat when you're around.

Paul thought you were hot before and after you started dating. Let's be honest you have him in the palm of your hand. But now that you have a bump, his mouth waters just looking at you. He's now wrapped around your little finger. Just wait until this baby gets here.

Your bump is still small enough so no one can see it if you're wearing baggier clothes and since it's always rainy, you use it to your advantage since you two still haven't told anyone.

Of course it gets to the point where you can only wear sweaters for so long. And the bigger your bump gets the more handsy Paul gets. Making it very noticeable to the pack.

Jared actually makes a joke about it one day, not expecting you to confirm it.

"Damn Y/N if I didn't know better, with how much Paul's around you I'd say you're pregnant." "Well..." "Shut the fuck up! Really?!"

Of course everyone is like family so they all want to congratulate you, and to see the bump. It also makes Paul uncomfortable having so many people around you at one time.

"Alright that's enough." "I didn't get my turn!" "And I don't really care."

Emily can't put into words how proud she is. She watched the man grow from a boy with temper issues and someone with out parent figures, to someone starting a family with the one person who loves him as much as he loves her. Everyone can say that Paul would definitely be a good dad. He's a huge family man, even though you technically don't have kids yet, he ended up letting you get a cat after you moved in with him. And the big ol softy said he didn't want one.

Now that everyone knows you go back to wearing your fitted shirts, something Paul didn't know he needed so much in his life.

Everyone knows 2000s r&b is your go to music station for anything that doesn't involve headphones. So when Paul comes home from patrol to you in your zone cleaning while singing and dancing he can't help the smile that quickly spreads as he leans against the doorframe watching you, knowing one day you'll be doing the exact same thing but instead of a baby in your belly, it'll be in your arms.

The one thing you love about having a baby daddy that doesn't wear shirts is you get to steal them all when you start getting too big for your own shirts, saving money on maternity clothes.

What Paul has found out is the bigger you get the more dresses you wear, and he loves seeing you in dresses pregnant or not. He couldn't understand why, since you don't really like wearing dresses until Emily tells him it's because you don't have to wear pants.

One thing he loves is watching the baby move. He'll run his finger along certain spots on your stomach and watch as a tiny hand or foot press back following the path he drew.

The baby seems to calm down when he talks, so he'll just talk about random things until you fall asleep knowing the baby moving too much was the reason you were still up.

He's been to every appointment. He's switched shifts with some of the pack to ensure he would be next to you in the doctors office.

The day he found out you were having a boy, he didn't know what to feel. Everyone bet on you guys having a girl, so he kind of had his hopes set on a girl, but he couldn't be happier either way.

"At least you won't be fighting off boys anytime soon." "If we ever have a daughter and she looks anything like you, I'm training to become an MMA fighter."

I wouldn't say his temper has gotten worse the closer you get to your due date, but your imprint bond has definitely strengthened making him more aggressive to the things you don't like. He has Spidey senses for when you're starting to get uncomfortable, and it's a huge lifesaver for when people want to touch your stomach.

"Is the baby kicking? Can I fee-" "I'd appreciate if you didn't" "I was just going to ask her if I could feel the babys kicks." "And I'd appreciate if you didn't touch my wife or child."

He's learned what your cravings are and that they happen randomly. So he started making trips to the store on his way home from patrol to pick up a certain bag of chips, or keeping a jar of pickles in the car for the rides home from the doctors.

"Mmm you know what sounds good right now?" "There's a new jar of Nutella in the pantry, and your pretzels are on the nightstand." "You didn't even open your eyes." "It's 2:30 in the morning. You've had the same craving every other night since little nugget started kicking."

You end up staying pregnant a couple weeks past your due date, so when you can't sleep Paul will dance with you to soft music in the living room. Even though he doesn't like dancing, he knows how uncomfortable you are carrying his son for forty-two weeks. At this point he's doing everything he can to keep you happy, even though the only thing you want is to get the kid out of you.

Just his luck you went into labor while he was on patrol. You were at Emily's, Paul refusing to leave you alone. It was just you Emily, Kim, Colin, and Brady. The two boys had no idea what was going on when you started groaning in pain. When your water broke they were frantic to get out of the house, being the only way to tell Paul his son was ready was for them to phase. When I say Emily sped her way to the hospital, oh she could've starred in fast and the furious.

You were groaning and covered in sweat by the time the pack arrived. Since you were no where near dilated enough to start pushing the pack was able to come into the room.

Of course what no one knew about being pregnant with a pack member, Emily and Sam still not having any kids. In labor your body heats up matching their temperatures.

After hours of groaning and death staring everyone who asked you a stupid question, the doctor kicks everyone out. Emily and Paul are the ones you keep in the room, they quickly put on the gown and hairnet before holding onto your hands as you push.

Soon you have tears going down your face as your son is put on your chest.

After everyone visits and head home, leaving behind balloons and flowers for you. You lay on your hospital bed next to Paul. No matter how small a bed is, Paul will always sleep next to you. You find it incredibly uncomfortable if Paul isn't next to you when you sleep.

You rest your head on a sleeping Paul's chest, as he holds your sleeping son on his other side. His and your entire world in one place.

[thephantomofthe-internet]

The Party’s Over

Flayed!Billy Hargrove x Reader

Word Count: 3,252

Warnings: swearing, violence, breaking and entering-just a whole lot of nope is happening

Author’s note: So this is a request! I don’t normally do requests, but I did this one! It’s a very loose interpretation, but here’s the request: If your requests are open: could you possibly do a billy x reader based on the song when the party’s over by billie eilish? I love love love your writing and I’ve just finished season 3 so I need some billy love xx thank you! I hope you enjoy, nonnie! 

Tag List: @moonstruckhargrove @hotstuffhargrove @carolimedanvers @alex--awesome--22 @thechickvic @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @so-not-hotmess @agentsinstorybrooke @sunflowercandie @kaliforniacoastalteens @songforhema @spidey-pal @mickmoon 

Heather had to have gone insane. It was like she was trying to get fired. Every weekend, there she was, bringing new people to the pool after hours. A little party heightened with drugs or alcohol or just the excitement of getting caught. It was a risk Heather was easily taking on, usually with your boyfriend at her side.

Billy Hargrove had gone off the deep end, no pun intended.

Ever since he found out that Heather Holloway was a secret party girl, they’d become best friends. And his whole personality had flipped. Well, flipped back. The Billy Hargrove you were dating wasn’t the guy you were introduced to way back in October. When he first arrived, he was an asshole. He slept around, he bullied or mocked anyone who seemed different or self-conscious enough to feel hurt by him, he treated everyone around him like shit or like they were disposable. The only people who could put up with him for more than a month were those looking for a boost in their own popularity. Tommy H and Carol had stuck around despite Billy pushing them away at every opportunity, purely because they wanted to suckled the teat of Hawkins High popularity, drinking it in.

You didn’t put up with any of his shit. You didn’t laugh at his jokes, you didn’t sleep with him or go on one of his little ‘dates’, you didn’t fall for his charm-you saw right through his bullshit. And that was frustrating to him; he wanted you to fall just like everyone else did. You were a challenge and he didn’t like those very much. But he was bored enough to keep trying. And eventually, after venting how tiring it was chasing you around was, you let him take you out just the once. And then you let him take you out a few more times, because what else were you supposed to do? Go out with Keith from the arcade? He was the only other person interested. Slim pickings meant that when Billy Hargrove came knocking, you answered.

And he wasn’t a bad date-he had a cool car; he drove fast, that was fun; he had good taste in music; sometimes he talked about interesting things; he was a good lay. He kept coming back too, you didn’t really get why. Neither did Billy, it wasn’t for love. He was bored of you after three dates. But other girls in town were more boring and they were annoying too. You weren’t annoying. You were almost cool. Like a friend he could fuck when he wanted.  That was nice.

But you were busy. And the summer was long. And being surrounded by girls in bikinis all day, drooling over him. Things were bound to happen. Nothing serious, nothing bad. Harmless flirting with Heather, she threw good invite-only parties, what was he supposed to do? Mrs. Wheeler was easy to frazzle, which was always fun, and she was something interesting to do. Well, he didn’t do her, but he wouldn’t pretend that he didn’t try. Not that he would tell you that. You didn’t need to know that. It would probably hurt your feelings anyway, he didn’t want to do that.

But you weren’t naïve. You noticed the way Heather looked at him. You heard the rumors around town about what and who he was doing. You tried to pay it no mind, but you worked at Sam Goody in the mall, every girl in town circulated that store and they all gossiped about the same things. So, you dealt with it. You dealt with the rumors. He was your boyfriend.  You knew him. He lied and he cheated and he stole, but he trusted you with everything. You were the exception, every girl he slept around with and never called again were the rule. And he was a stickler to his own rules.

Until now.

You didn’t believe the rumor that he was sleeping with Karen Wheeler; she was too much of a challenge, even for him. But the stories about Heather Holloway? Those made sense. Too much sense. Those were something to question. That was something to fight about. And you fought like hell. But Billy denied everything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Billy cried, running his hands angrily through his hair, pulling at the ends. He’d been wearing the same white thermal for almost a week straight and you were very weirded out by it. In part because it was beginning to smell and he didn’t seem to notice in the slightest. But mostly because it was boiling outside! Hawkins had been in a heat wave for two weeks now and everyone in town had been dying. Everyone, it seems, except Billy. Wearing that dumb thermal, always wandering around with a blue raspberry Icee in hand. He always seemed to be in a daze or actively upset. There was no in between. And you hated it.

“Oh come on! Don’t act like I’m stupid! I see what happens when I’m not around! We had plans last night to go out and you ditched me! Without even a call! And Jennifer Spears sees you driving to Heather’s house! Heather’s for god’s sake!” you countered, matching his volume. Billy had snuck into your house that afternoon, still not bothering to use the front door even though no one was home and no one was going to catch him or even be mad at him.

“Why don’t you trust me anymore? Jesus! When did you become such a clingy girlfriend?” Billy scoffed and you about near punched him square in the jaw. What kind of bullshit was that? You’ve never been clingy! You’ve always given him the space to be the lone wolf he insisted on being. You didn’t cling, you didn’t pressure, you didn’t do anything to get in his way.

“Oh my god…” you massaged the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes tight “This really isn’t worth it. Do whatever you want with Heather, see if I stick around?” you snapped, turning your back to him dramatically, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. You didn’t expect Billy to stay and you weren’t upset when he didn’t. He knew to leave you when you were pissed off, because you’d only bite his head off about whatever had ticked you off.  You weren’t one to mess with when you were upset and Billy knew this.

Billy did exactly what you told him to do, he went out with Heather that night. And you didn’t talk to him for a week. But you didn’t let him get to you.  When your friends dragged you to the pool, you made a point to flirt with Adam, the assistant manager from the pool, only because he was an ass and Billy hated it when he smiled his smarmy smile. He looked like he was about to sexually harass you at a used car dealership.

But it didn’t do anything. And for the first time, you saw it. You saw how Billy was with other girls. You saw the way Karen Wheeler flirted shamelessly along with the other moms on the left side of the pool. That didn’t bother you, although the way Mrs. Armstrong, with her cheetah print one piece and neon green visor surrounded by tightly curled frizzy blonde hair kind of made you nauseous. No, what upset you was the way Heather and Billy interacted. It wasn’t flirting. That would be too obvious. It was like they were speaking in code. It was full of nods and knowing, neutral looks. They whispered far too much, Heather even pointed you out in the crowd. At first, you thought she was mocking you. That made your blood boil. But her expression was so empty, her eyes so dead. And Billy shook his head. They began whispering harshly to one another and you wondered what they were arguing about, if they were arguing at all. That was when you decided to leave the pool. You didn’t know why you went in the first place.

The answer came soon enough. Billy called. This was a shock, he never called, he always just showed up randomly to wherever you were to confront you.

“Billy, what do you want?” you huffed after learning who was on the other end, dropping down onto the mattress with a dramatic sigh through your nose.

“Look, we fought, I’m sorry, can we move on?” he replied, matching your frustration beat for beat. You rolled your eyes, but nodded.

“Sure, fine, what’s up?” you asked bitterly, running your hands through your hair.

“We’re throwing a party tonight. Be there.” Billy barked. He seemed angry, but you didn’t know why.

“Who’s we? And where is it even?” you asked quickly. Billy had a nasty habit of hanging up the phone after giving you brief bits of information.

“At the pool, Heather’s throwing it. I’m helping. You in or not?” Billy returned quickly, rephrasing his wording quickly. You contemplated starting a fight about it; after all, you were still mad about Billy’s sneaking around with Heather. But you decided to hold off on it.

“You picking me up?” you asked.                                                  

“Sure.” Billy replied gruffly.

“Around eight?”

“Nine.”

“Alright, I’ll be ready. I’ll see you then.”

Billy hung up on you without a goodbye, although it didn’t really bother you. The sound of the dial tone was friendlier than his goodbyes. Besides, that just meant that he didn’t want to or couldn’t attempt to say goodbye. It was sweet. That’s what you told yourself.

You did what he wanted, although you weren’t excited about it. You didn’t like authority and you didn’t need the Hawkins PD chasing you down. But Billy wanted to go and you were sort of glad that he invited you. He didn’t want to go with Heather. He wanted to go with you. So you pulled out your best black one piece and covered it with your homemade cut off shorts and a plain tee shirt. You pulled your hair up and ran outside to Billy’s car before he could even blast the horn.

Billy didn’t talk while he drove, his jaw was far too tight and his gaze too stern. He looked nervous or at least tightly wound. But you didn’t comment on it. You assumed it was because of the risk he was taking even showing up. One more meeting with the Hawkins police and he’d lose the car for the rest of the summer. And he needed his car. You kept quiet and held your bag tightly to your chest, keeping your gaze focus on the streets in front of you.

As you pulled up to the pool, you saw Heather leading a group of kids into the pool. You were surprised by the group. Where was Carol? Tommy? Tina? Vikki? Fuck, nobody even pretended to invite Steve Harrington! It was a bunch of misfits. You noted Nick Cline, who was most known for playing the cello in the school band and puking onstage; Lisa Reid, who was the first person in school to get braces and still had them; and Curtis Rudolph; who got so stoned at Tina’s Halloween party the year prior that he flashed the whole party his penis and forgot about it. The rest weren’t anyone you recognized, but you noted the trend between the three you did. They were outcasts. Nick Cline was ignored even by fellow band geeks, Lisa Reid was declared the least bangable girl at Hawkins High via their list in the locker room, and Curtis lost everything after everyone found out all at once how creepy  he was and how small his penis truly was. Nobody was fucking with them. Until now. Now, they were invited to an exclusive party by Heather Holloway, who was known for throwing the most exclusive, coolest parties in Hawkins and always getting away with it.

You were beyond confused.

Billy grabbed your elbow, pulling you back for a second. You turned to look at him, furrowing your brow. “What is going on, Bill?” you whispered, stopping in your tracks.

“Just wait for ‘em to go in. We’ll go in afterwards.” He replied easily, letting your arm go. You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest.

Heather peeked out from the gate and caught Billy’s eye. She waved him in, but Billy shook his head. Heather turned to you, smiling brightly. “Y/N! Come on! Leave the grump behind!” she called, laughing at Billy’s stern expression. You found yourself smiling too, something about her look made you want to smile too. It made you want to do anything she said.

You turned to Billy “Come on, let’s go. Before the cops shut this thing down. In and out quick, okay?” you whispered, looking up at him with the big doe eyes that you knew melted his heart. Something in Billy’s expression changed, his gaze softened slightly and he seemed conflicted with himself. But Heather’s musical tone call out to you again, beckoning you in. She had become a sort of siren and you weren’t refusing the sailor’s song she sung for you. You ran towards the gate. Billy couldn’t help but follow.

The group was circled together on the deck. Heather took the centre, raising her hand to silence everyone. “Alright! Everybody go and change in the change rooms and shower off! I won’t have you contaminating the water just for fun!” she explained, still with that fun party girl tone that lured you in. Everything about her face screamed that the situation was very serious, but her voice was so upbeat and fun that it distracted everyone around you. It distracted you too, you followed the line of awkward girls heading towards the locker room. Billy pulled you back roughly.

“Stay here, okay? She’s just bugging the nerds.” Billy said softly. And he smiled. That threw you for a loop, he’d been so annoyed all day, but now he was grinning at you like you hung the moon. And that was distracting you, it held you in place as he headed off behind the boys. You dropped your bag on the white lounge chair behind you pulling off your tee shirt and shorts before sitting down on the edge of the pool, dipping your feet. The water was far too cold, someone had turned the pool heater off completely, letting the water turn to ice on your feet.

The group was gone for far too long, it made you nervous. You kept your eyes on the doors, waiting for someone-anyone-to emerge. But nobody came out. You stood from edge, peering towards the doors, inching back to grab your bag. You had a bad feeling about this whole scene and you wanted nothing more to be out of it, even if Billy would get pissed about it.

Before you could even attempt to head towards the gate, Heather burst from the doors, grinning and giggling. “Y/N! Come in here and help me! Lisa’s got her braces stuck on her sweater vest I’m about to piss myself laughing!” she called, waving you over again. And you found yourself thinking that you could help for a minute. You didn’t have to run off now, maybe it would feel better in there.

The locker room was insanely humid. All the showers were running the hottest water they could, filling the room with steam. The lights had been turned off almost completely too, save for the one closest to the door entering the pool, leaving the room dark and eerie. Despite knowing that everyone had gone into the locker rooms, you couldn’t hear any voices. The only sound was from the showers running. Then, someone hit you hard against the back of your head.

You dropped to your knees immediately, losing your balance. You felt insanely dizzy and sick, you knew you were about to pass out. But you forced yourself to stay awake. You knew if you pass out, something worse would happen. Hands came to the back of your shoulders, forcing you to the ground. Heather hovered over you, her expression the same as it was at the door only moments ago.

“If you stay still it’ll be over faster.” Heather said with a sickly smile, looking up to nod at the person above your sightline. Your wrists were bound above your head with rope and you were dragged by them by the person just beyond sight. You screamed loudly, kicking your unbound legs wildly, aiming for Heather’s…anything. Anything to get her to stop this. But no matter how many times to struck her, she didn’t even flinch. She just kept walking slowly behind you.

“Billy! Billy help me!” you screamed as loud as you could. He was just in the other room, he had to hear you. But even if he did, he wasn’t there. There was nothing you could do now, fighting wasn’t working. The person dragging you bent down to pick you up, it was Janet Holloway to your shock and horror. How on earth did she get that strong? Her arms went under you easily and lifted you into the air fireman’s style. You contemplated fighting against her, beating her down. But you weren’t certain it would work. Instead, you let your body go limp, laying all your weight on her. Janet Holloway collapsed immediately under your weight.

This was your chance.

You bounced up, making a brake for the backdoor, not trusting yourself to be able to get passed Heather. You were so dizzy, your vision drifting in and out, but you made it out the door.

Tom Holloway grabbed you roughly by the shoulders, holding you in place as soon as you got outside. “Where you going, missy?” he asked with a cocky tone, his skin pale and sickly looking. He was sweating far too much, it was sickening. You struggled against his grip, trying to break away. Just like Janet, he was too strong, and it turned your stomach completely. You looked over scene, trying to find anything that could help you here.

They had a van, and people were already loaded into it, wrists tied and knocked out the same as they tried to do to you. Other than that, the area was desolate. No cars, no people, hell the streetlights were out. Everything was set up so you would get caught. So all those people would get caught.

Then, you found Billy. Moreover, Billy found you. He tapped Tom on the shoulder and he released you immediately. You fell into Billy’s arms, unable to wrap your arms around him, but so desperate to.

“I’ll handle her.” Billy said simply and Tom nodded, heading towards the van. The van sped off fast as soon as he was inside. You didn’t know where Janet and Heather were and you didn’t care. Billy would keep you safe.

“Billy, what’s going on? Where are they taking them?” you asked frantically, searching his face for any sign of humanity. But there was none. Everything about his expression was dead and empty. He wasn’t himself anymore.

“Just stay still, it’ll be over soon.” He said, laying you down, pulling a rope from his back pocket.

“Billy, what’re you doing?” you asked, trying desperately to pull your legs away. Billy held firm on them, not letting go no matter how hard you kicked at his face.

“Billy, I’m scared let me go.” You cried, kicking up at him.

“Don’t be afraid, it’ll all be over soon…” he said, almost sounding bored by the whole scene.

“Billy, look at me. Look at me!” you cried. Billy’s hands stopped for a second and he looked to you. A glimpse of his former self glinted in his eyes and you held onto it tightly. “Billy, this isn’t you. You don’t have to do this. Please just…just let me go…I won’t tell anyone.” Billy’s hands grabbed your legs hard, slamming them to the asphalt.

“Billy you’re hurting me!” a tear rolled down your cheek, your lip quivering violently. Billy looked up at you, shocked. His look…hurt. Like he didn’t want to be doing this. You held his gaze, letting a few more tears tumble down your cheeks and your nose run. Billy let go of your legs and reached into his back pocket, pulling a switchblade from behind him. You let out a strangled scream, but Billy shushed you. He brought the knife between your wrists and sawed through the rope, freeing your hands.

“Go.” He whispered. You saw the fear in his eyes, the sheer brokenness of his whole expression. You wanted to hug him, but you stayed still. “Go!” he cried and you shot up like a rocket. Abandoning your purse and clothes, you ran for your house, never looking back.

You didn’t know what could’ve happened, but you didn’t plan to find out.

[missbasicxxx]

Is it too late to send an ask? You're secretly a mutant with, of course, personal issues, like family and school, so you're a turd. Adapting your abilities, you get into minor gangs and teenage rebellion. You've heard of vigilante "spiderman" in Queens, and to challenge yourself you go over into his territory once a week and cause mayhem, mainly vandalism. Your mask is a horrendous clown mask, layered with a ski mask and maybe another mask!

IT

Peter let out a deep sigh as he closed his laptop. Spider-man was having a hard time with a specific troublemaker these days, which was not usual, especially in the quiet streets of Queens. Mostly his job consisted of helping lost civilians, stopping pickpockets, setting misguided teens straight, topped up with an occasional gangster clean up. Nothing serious. Just plain ol’ neighbourhood crimes. But recently, there was a new delinquent in town and it was starting to get into his nerves. You never did anything really bad, like, murder…or something. It was just that he couldn’t seem to get his hands on you. No criminal had ever escaped Spider-man’s webs. When he had his eyes on the prey, he caught it. But you, he was never able to catch. He still remembered the first night he met you.

-

“Mommy’s gonna be disappointed if she finds out that you still draw on the wall.”

He made a comment as he jumped down from a nearby apartment behind the dark silhouette of a figure. You didn’t seem surprised at all at his voice. If anything, you acted as if he didn’t exist. You just finished drawing the graffiti and threw the empty spray paint can on the ground. 

“Oh, littering too, are we? Clean up after yourself like a good girl.”

He was going to web you up, the police would probably just let you go with a warning. But when he shoot his webs, the didn’t stick to your body. It just fell straight down as if they were just strings.

“Wha-?”

You finally turned around and that’s when he saw the mask. It was white, with a big, mouth ripping smile plastered on it alongside red lips, red eyebrows, two giant black holes beneath big blue triangles for eyes. What had caught his breath was not the mask itself, but the luminous eyes underneath it. They seemed as if they were looking through his soul. Before Peter could do anything, the being had ran off to the shadows. He looked for you all night across the city, but failed miserably. It was as if you had disappeared.

-

The next time he saw you, exactly a week had past from the first encounter. You were with someone else, and even though he couldn’t see anything clearly in the dark, he could smell out a drug deal with his eyes closed. He didn’t recognise you at first. The other guy was facing his way and from the back, you looked like any other teenager looking for trouble. 

“Sup guys? I’m pretty sure marijuana is still illegal in New York.”

It was when you turned to face him that he finally recognised the familiar mask. 

“Hey, I know you! Scary face guy!”

The other guy, afraid of getting turned over to the police, started to make a run for it but he was more keen on getting his hands on you. Not like, in that way. Like, to remove a threat from the streets of his home ground, of course. But as he shot his webs, once again, they fell helplessly to your touch.

“Ok, that was embarrassing. I’m sure they worked a minute ago.”

Peter cocked his head then saw you starting to make a run for it and shrugged.

“Never mind. I’ll just catch with my own hands then.”

Soon enough, he was right on your heels and could have sworn that he almost caught you the second before he suddenly lost you. 

“Ugh, again?!”

It was weird because he never lost track of anyone. Even when he couldn’t see them, he could still hear or smell them and his spidey sense would occasionally help out when all else failed. This time, there was nothing. The wave of stimulations that were taking over his body just a second ago had just disappeared.

Frustrated, Peter back tracked his footsteps to go after the other guy instead. Unlike you, he wasn’t so lucky.

“Enjoying yourselves, gentleman?”

When Spider-man flipped into their hideaway, all of him and his friends scrambled to their escape but Spider-man was much faster. He spotted out the guy who were with you and had him webbed up to the wall in a blink of an eye.

“Sticky little bastard! Let me go!”

“Woah, chill dude. I just want to ask some questions.”

“Well, good luck cause you ain’t getting any answers.”

“I’m not gonna ask any about you, ok? You can do that with the police. Do you know who that other guy was? The one you were with back at the alley.”

The guy spat towards Peter in disgust.

“Snitches get stitches, dickhead. I don’t know anything.”

“Alright. Then I’ll just tell the cops that you’re the dealer and I’ll be on my way.”

“I’m not a dealer!”

“So the other guy’s the dealer then?”

Peter raised one eyebrow as his captive let out a sigh.

“I don’t know, man. I really don’t. I just got sent to pick it up.”

“And who sent you exactly?”

When the guy shut his mouth, protesting to give an answer, Peter sighed and jumped up, leaving him. He was no use. It was time to bring matters into his own hands.

-

And there Peter was, a few weeks later, digging up every last bit of information he could find about the mystery mask. So far, he found out that the graffiti he saw on the first encounter was a symbol of a criminal gang. He still wasn’t quite sure about what their purpose was, but he knew one for sure. Drug dealing. The guy he kept bumping into must be a part of them. But none of his searches showed any data about the mask. At first he thought is must be a uniform of the gang but other criminals suspected to be a member did not portray the same look. Spider-man’s own nuisance was the only one.

Frustrated by the series of dead ends, Peter turned off his laptop and threw himself onto the bed. Whoever it was, he was going to catch them. Nothing escapes the webs of Spider-man.

-

Part 2

-

AN: It’s never too late honey! Thanks for the ask! Sorry I haven’t been keeping up with the writing! But here it is! I’ve just been a bit busy lately. I am hoping that I still have time to write. 

[nineteenseventeenbarnes00]

It Must Have Been the Wind

Characters: Peter Parker x OC Genre: mini-angst Word Count: 2298 Warning: abuse, mention of drugs

"Yeah, Aunt May, the new apartment is nice," Peter says, his phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, a big cardboard box in his hand.

"Yeah, Mr. Stark said he'll come over later tonight and we'll have dinner together or something," Peter responds after listening to the voice over the phone. He drops the cardboard box on the study table and grabs the phone.

"Ok, Aunt May, love you too," he quickly mumbles before ending the call and plopping himself on the new sofa.

As Peter was about to drift off to sleep, a knock came through his door. Peter let out a small sigh before getting up and opening the door.

"Hello, dear," a lady in her 50s stood at the entrance holding a bowl filled with cookies. She pushed the bowl into his arms, "Welcome to the building."

"Aww, thank you, ma'am," Peter thanks, shyly scratching the back of his neck with one hand and accepting the bowl in his other hand. "My name's Peter Parker."

"And I'm Joanne Roth from downstairs; it's nice to meet you, Peter," Joanne responds, a warm smile on her face.

Before Peter could get another word out of his mouth, the pair could hear footsteps coming up the stairs that were right next to Peter's door.

"Hi, Y/N," Joanne greets the figure that appears. It was a girl Peter's age and although it was the middle of summer, she had a hoodie on.

"Hi, Ms. Roth," the girl greets back with a small smile, but her eyes never make eye contact with either of them. Peter looked at her curiously and his spidey senses told him something was weird about her.

"I better get going," she mumbles before rushing upstairs.

"Oh, sweet girl," Joanne whispers. "Always the timid one."

"Does she live alone?" Peter asks, listening to her open and closing her apartment door above them.

"No, I believe she lives with Fredrick, her boyfriend," Joanne answers. "She moved in roughly three years ago and he moved in last year or so? She hasn't been the same ever since."

"How so?" Peter questioned, curiosity eating him up.

"Oh, look at you, getting to know everyone," Joanne chuckles. "You'll get there soon enough!"

Peter chuckles nervously before thanking her again for the cookies and closing the door behind him. He puts the bowl on the counter and checks the time on his watch.

"5:48?" he groans. "I'm gonna be late."

Peter jogs over to his bathroom window, opening it and right before he jumped out, he swore he could hear muffled sobs coming from the window above his.

"Kid, you're 2 minutes late," Tony comments as he sees Peter swing in one of the windows.

"Sorry, Mr. Stark, there was this lady that came by and-"

"Whoa, hold up, you've been living in that apartment for 2 hours and there's already a lady?" Sam asks, pointing at Peter with a fork and squinting at him.

"No, no, it's not like that," Peter exclaims, waving his arms around.

"Alright, you two, save the bickering for after dinner," Nat adds before either could say anything more. She puts a try full of roast chicken on the table and everyone gathers to the table.

It was roughly 9 PM before he left the tower. Tony had asked him to come to the tower for 'intern duties,' a.k.a training at 7 AM the next day, so by 11 PM, Peter was in bed and ready to go to sleep.

Just as his eyes closed, Peter hears the faint sound of glass shattering from the floor above him. His eyes shoot open and just as he was about to dismiss the sound as an accident, he could roughly hear a voice talking loudly and muffled sobs follow — damn spidey senses for picking the sound up.

Concern floods over him when he realizes where the sound was coming from. He quickly hops out of bed, puts on his slippers and heads upstairs.

Peter stares at the door, rethinking if he should knock or not. Did he react too rashly when he heard the sounds earlier? Right before he decided to turn around and head back downstairs, a loud thump could be heard from behind the door. Peter didn't hesitate this time and knocked on the door.

The difference between being a door apart and a floor apart was that he could hear everything now. He didn't miss the deep voice that let out a string of profanities and footsteps that walked further into the room. He could hear the voice talking to someone else, tell them to see who was at the door.

Another minute and a half later, the door opens and in front of Peter stood Y/N with a jacket on and zipped up. It was like the hoodie she wore earlier; it covered most of her upper torso. The first thing he noticed was that she barely looked in his eyes.

"Uhhhh, hey, Y/N," Peter greets, trying to get a peek of the inside of her apartment.

"How do you know my name?" Y/N mumbles, slightly closing the door and only having her head sticking out.

"I heard Joanne mention you earlier today," Peter admits. Y/N slightly lifts her head and makes 2 seconds of eye contact before looking away again and nods at his explanation. "My name's Peter."

"Can I help you, Peter?"

"Um, yes," Peter stutters. "I, uh, just wanted to check on you, I heard some glass shattering and crying from up here."

Peter noticed how Y/N visibly stiffened a bit before looking into Peter's eyes again and an awkward smile made its way to her face.

"Thanks for caring, Peter, it's nice of you to come check up on me," she begins. "I was just about to go to bed, so I'm not too sure what those sounds were."

"I have to go back in," she quickly adds when a faint pair of footsteps could be heard walking towards the door.

"But I-"

"It's an old building, it must've been some pests in the building or something," she assures Peter. "Or it must have been the wind."

And with that, she bids him goodbye and closes the door, and Peter is once again where he was several minutes ago, staring at their door.

Peter lets out a big sigh before walking back downstairs.

It was almost midnight now, and Peter was lying on the cool concrete floor of his apartment. Man, it was summer, but he still couldn't figure out why she had been wearing clothes meant for cooler days.

He couldn't shake off the bad feeling he had, but sleep eventually took over him and he drifted off to sleep.

Peter got up at 6 AM the next day to prepare to go to Stark Industries. At exactly 6:45, as he was ready to swing out the window, he picked up the sound of someone crying. It didn't take his sharp senses to hear it; he stuck his head out the bathroom window and looked up. He figured the placements for all the units should match, which means right above him was Y/N's bathroom.

"Hey, Y/N, don't forget to pick up some rock candy on your way back. I'll let Josh know," he heard a voice say.

"B-But Fred, we'll be blowing this week's rent and-"

"Shut it," the voice hissed, cutting her off, "We'll figure it out."

"Kid, what's up?" Tony asks Peter who he's noticed spacing out all day.

"Mr. Stark, if you knew something bad was happening, would you stop them?" Peter finally lets out after pondering for a few hours.

"I mean, we are superheroes, isn't that in our job description?" Tony responds, taking his sunglasses off.

"I mean, I guess," Peter mumbles. "But what if it was something Peter Parker knows, not what Spider-man knows?"

"Well, as a citizen, you gotta do the right thing without letting others know about your secret, right?"

Instead of swinging home, Peter decided to walk back. He wanted some time to think about what he could do for Y/N without intruding too much - and right as he turned around the corner, he could see Y/N into the apartment entrance with a bag of groceries.

"Hey," Peter calls out, tapping Y/N on the shoulder. Y/N, in a panic, drops everything she was holding and flinches away.

"Whoa, easy," Peter exclaims, putting both of his hands up to show her he wasn't trying to hurt her.

"Jesus," Y/N grunts when she realizes who it was. Peter could see tears form in her eyes as she bent down to pick the things she dropped up.

"I-I didn't mean to startle you," Peter stammers, bending down to help her pick her stuff up. He looked over to her hunched figure and noticed a small clear bag that had a crystal or two in it in the pocket of her sweater but decided not to say anything.

"It's ok, sorry for freaking out," Y/N responds.

"Let me help you with that," Peter offers, grabbing one of the messily packaged bags from her hand and they both start making their way upstairs.

"Hi Joanne," Peter greets as they both pass by the same woman from yesterday. She gives them both a tight smile before hurrying back into her unit.

"Thank you," Y/N says as they arrive outside her apartment unit, grabbing the bag Peter was holding.

"Anytime, Y/N," he responds and quickly adds before she could close the door behind her, "If you ever need to talk to someone, I'm here."

The next couple of days, Peter would make sure to get back to the apartment the same time every day to make sure he gets to walk upstairs with Y/N. On the third day, Peter started to panic when she outside the building at precisely 5:45, making her way upstairs.

As Peter headed up the stairs, he was a tall figure walking down the stairs. Without any introductions, he knew it was Fredrick. There was just something about his aura that was unsettling. Peter could finally put a face to his voice.

The last few nights had been relatively quiet; there wasn't any glass shattering or crying, but the moment Peter walked his apartment that afternoon, he could hear the loud sobbing drifting through his open bathroom door.

His heart broke the moment he heard the sound - he had a talk with Steve about situations like this yesterday and was advised not to push or confront victims because they may get defensive or retreat into their shell.

With a big sigh, Peter sits by the window still for a bit, listening to the sobs. Deep inside, he hoped she knew that someone knew she was suffering.

The next day, at the same time, he gets excited when he sees Y/N in her usual not-so-summer getup walking back to the apartment. As he catches up to her, his eyes widen in shock as he sees the big plaster right across her forehead and some minor discoloration on her cheek.

"Y/N, what happened?" Peter asks, a hint of rage in his voice.

"Oh," Y/N awkwardly chuckled. "I wasn't paying attention when I opened the bathroom cabinet and it hit me in the face."

He knew what happened even if she didn't tell him the truth.

The two awkwardly make their way upstairs and right before Y/N disappeared into her unit, Peter calls out her name.

"Yes?" she asks, glancing into his eyes and looking away after a bit.

"If you ever wanna just chill or something, you can always come over to mine."

"Thank you, Peter," she smiles, an actual genuine smile he reckons as it was different from all the other encounters they've had.

Later that evening, Peter could hear Fredrick leaving the unit. It was 7 PM, he did that every few nights and wouldn't be back until early the next morning.

When Peter was sure Fredrick had left, Peter sat by the window still, waiting for Y/N to prepare for bed, the usual routine she had. It wasn’t hard to pick up stuff when you have heightened senses. 

As he heard the taps upstairs running, he quickly got his phone out and took a deep breath.

"Here goes nothing," he mutters before leaving his phone on the still and pressing play. Lean on Me by Bill Withers start to play and he knows she can hear it.

Lean on me, when you're not strong And I'll be your friend I'll help you carry on For it won't be long 'Til I'm gonna need Somebody to lean on

You just call on me brother, when you need a hand We all need somebody to lean on I just might have a problem that you'll understand We all need somebody to lean on

Just before midnight, as Peter was preparing for bed, a faint knock came through his door. Peter sits up in surprise; it takes him a second before he jogs over to the door and opens it.

Peter's eyes widen in shock as Y/N's figure stood outside his apartment door in short sleeves, very different from her usual attire, hands holding a box of pizza from Domino's. He could see the faint scars and bruises on her arms.

"Hey, Peter," she greets, a small smile on her face. "I wanted to take up your offer from earlier and was wondering if you're busy? Do you feel like a movie and pizza? I know it's late but-"

"Sounds perfect," Peter answers her and opens his door to let her in.

He watches her figure settle on his sofa and thought, 'We can talk about the noise when you're ready, but 'til then I'll say, "It must have been the wind."'

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a/n i absolutely love alec benjamin’s song. this story went better in my head, i think i missed or might have written a few important points wrong but i’m glad i got to put this story into words!