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stylesyourmine · 3 years ago

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the beauty in you || peter parker (andrews version)

a/n: hi loves, so sorry i havent gotten everything up yet, ive just got a new laptop so itś been hectic! anyways i thought this was so adorable and i hope you love it <3 -nina!

word count: 3.4k

warnings: body image, weight, body insecurity, negative self talk.

requested: yes! i sort of changed the request though, to make it more peter! hope you like it! :)

¨reader has low self esteem and can’t believe he likes her but he tries to prove her wrong.¨

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it was 2:45pm, the end of the school day and the beginning of your favorite day on the planet. saying that you ran out of literature as soon as the bell rang, now that would be an understatement. you practically bolted.

today was your favorite day ever. it was the day that took the cake, even on top of all of your favorite holidays- nothing, nothing- could compare to today.

today was a day so full of love.

it was your 2 year anniversary with peter. the day he confessed his love for you. it was also 2 years since peter confessed he was spider-man.

it all started on a rooftop, your rooftop. you guys had came up for some much needed air after getting through a grueling family dinner. you’d caught him staring.

he was perched up on the side of the building, as your eyes were focused on all of the life happening down below you. everyone down there had a different story, and it intrigued you to try and guess what peoples were.

finally after a while you looked up to an already-staring-at-you peter. he smiled and shot a web at you, bringing you closer to him. shocked, you stepped back. soon enough, he explained what had just happened, and who he was. from there on it was you and peter vs the world.

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you scattered the halls, your eyes running over everyone's heads, you were only looking for one.

suddenly, you felt familiar hands snake around your waist. your lips upturned into a smirk, knowing exactly who it was.

peters head nuzzled next to your face, melting into you.

"what're you rushin for? i mean its not like there's anything going on today.." he muttered, waiting for a response to his snarky remark.

you swept around as quick as you understood what was happening, and there he was. the brown haired boy of your dreams. his arms never left your waist, but now you guys were face to face. your arms lifted and fell on his shoulders.

he was like a breath of fresh air. every time you were with him, it felt like you could breathe better, everything was better.

in fact, you could pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with peter.

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you guys had been friends for a few months before you showed any interest in each other, you guys were just the smartest in your physics classes, you leading in number one, of course. you'd hang out almost everyday, but when he started leaving for afternoons, even into nights- it worried you. did he not wanna be around you as much? obviously, you know now that was certainly not the case.

one night, he called you and asked you to meet him at his- aunt may's- house. you were skeptical but obliged, since you hadn't seen him for a while, and it seemed like he wanted to make up for it.

aunt may let you in and allowed you upstairs, and you knocked on peters door. when he clicked the button to unlock it, the door opened widely to a smiling peter parker surrounded by roses and a small bag of chinese food.

"its uh- its not much but i know i've been busy and i wanted to make it up to you."

your eyes suddenly softened to those of shock, that someone could care so delicately of your feelings. all you could do in the moment was run up to him and give him the tightest hug you'd ever given.

the sparkle in your eyes that night, that was the night you fell in love with him.

"its perfect. thank you pete."

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now, here you were standing almost two years later with the same boy. except now, he was yours.

you chuckled at him, peter was always just peter. funny, sarcastic, loving peter.

he quickly spun you around, so your back was facing his body. it was quiet. there was no one in the school. how long had you guys been standing there like that for? where you there for ages or were teenagers really that eager to get out of school as quick as possible?you shrugged it off your mind, as you didn't really care for the answer at all.

"happy 2 years baby" he mumbled, leaving traces of his warm breath against your neck. your back shuttered at the feeling of it.

"happy two years bug boy." you smirked. and like you'd planned it in your head, he let go of you and stood in front now, starting to walk backwards.

"when are you ever going to stop calling me that?'" you just nodded, and took his hands as you trudged forwards, helping him walk so he wouldn't run into anything.

secretly, he loved the pet name. it was what you'd began to call him whenever he had to leave to be spider-man in the middle of a date, or just a simple hangout. he played it like he didn't enjoy it, but he did. the corners of his mouth would lift, like he cared. and he knew to himself, that he loved the name because no one would ever call him that, except for you. so over time he grew to love it. but you didn't have to know that.

when you guys got to the front door, he opened it with his back and stopped next to it, holding out his arms like you were a princess, waiting for you to go out the door first.

you smiled and he caught up with you, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

surprisingly, it was a nice day in new york. it wasn't too hot or too cold, it was perfect. this was rare, as it was either trifling heat or freezing cold.

you took a deep breath in and started,

"so i was thinking.."

peters face turned towards yours and pecked your cheek softly.

"what were ya thinking?"

you started again, "obviously were doing something tonight but i know you have to patrol too so i was thinking that you could could walk me home, i could stay and get ready while you're out patrolling and when you're done, you could come get me and we'll have dinner? i made reservations for tonight at 'florencia' under two names- one for mr. peter parker & mrs. y/n y/l/n at 7:00pm. the others for mr & mrs greenton at 9:30. had to make up names because i didn't know what time you were gonna come back by." you let out a deep breath after that entire speech you'd just given.

peter only stopped walking. he smiled the biggest smile he'd ever had. you made reservations, but took consideration of his occupation. you understood that being spider-man wasn't a choice, but something he had to do. this only made him fall harder.

his eyes scanned your entire face, and before you knew it his lips were on yours, attacking them with such passion.

when he pulled back his eyes were immediately locked onto yours. "god i fucking love you!"

you giggled and screeched when peters arms met your legs, picking you up promptly over his shoulders.

"peter!-" you said during a laughing attack. you could feel him running forwards, as you guys were almost near your house.

he could feel your arms swinging against his back, as your stomach inhaled in and out in quick movements from the laughter.

this would soon become a core memory of his.

when he finally put you down, you stumbled but he was quick enough to catch your arm.

"dizzy?" he laughed outstretching his arm to make sure you were up and stable.

"yeah just a little bit from i dont know, you running all down the block with me!" you were so happy right now, standing in front of your home, staring at the most handsome boy you'd ever seen.

he leaned in to you, grabbing the back of your neck. his height was definitely a factor here, as you were shorter than him so he pulled you upwards somewhat.

you placed an arm on his chest as his soft warm lips met yours, and you swore, in that moment you felt actual sparks between you. electric fireworks setting off in your own little bubbles.

no one else mattered but him.

"go." you said pulling away beaming. "i've gotta go get pretty and you," you said stepping back, putting one finger on his chest. "you've got bad guys to chase." you finished, still stepping backwards and pointing at him till your other hand hit the brink of your door knob.

he nodded smiling at you, "you're always stunning,-' he started by cupping the corners of his mouth to radiate his voice over to you," -and you're right." he left it at that and blew you a kiss before walking off.

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you'd been home for about 2 hours since peter left you. clothes piled around your freshly cleaned- now not so cleaned- room. you could not for the life of you, find anything good enough to wear. nothing looked right.

you wouldnt admit this to peter, but secretly you'd been having body image issues. when you guys would eat, all you'd do was pick and pick and pick.

everytime you passed a mirror, you couldnt help but look at your body. examine it, over analyse, pick out every single piece that you didnt like and hide it. thats what you tried to do best but it seems like anything and everything you did, it wasnt enough.

social media, that didnt help. after peter fell asleep at night, you'd look through your phone at the models that lit up the screen, the heavily photoshoped pictures filling your pupils. 'their lives must be perfect' you mumbled into the dry air.

in reality, peter loved you for you. oh god how he could scream it from the rooftops. his words could never describe just the amount of perfect he thought you were. he'd tell you everyday, all the time.

so now here you were, standing in your heavily cluttered bedroom contemplating everything. you'd tried on at least 30 outfits. nothing looked good to you. as you walked past the mirror, walking towards your closet- you stopped in front of it.

you were clothed in a small yellow dress with your hair curled, and to the naked eye you looked stunning. gorgeous. but to you, you could help but pick out how your hips dipped into your body, and how when you sat, there was those love handles that no matter how much working out you did, would always stick around.

you glaced at the clock, a tear shedding your eye. 7:45pm.

you did nothing but sink to the floor, now letting all of your mascara flow down your face.

it wasnt fair, that you didnt look like all the girls in the magazines. it wasnt fair, that you couldnt be the women on tv with the perfect personalities and the perfect faces. it wasnt fair, to peter, to not be able to give him any of that. it wasnt fair.

out of nowhere, you heard the sound of creaking. your head turned quickly seeing your boyfriends fully suited body jumped into your room, with flowers.

your heart weakend because why couldnt you just get up and be happy for him, and be happy because today was a happy day.

peter immediately ran over to you, noticing the mood on your face.

¨baby?" his hands grabbed your cheeks, now being on the same level of the ground as you were.

¨whatre you doing, whats wrong?" you pryed his large hands off of your face and stood up in front of him. he only looked at you with his eyebrows furrwowed. what had happened in the while he was gone? was she upset that he made it somewhat late? there were little kids in the street trying to catch a ball, and needed to help them. but then there was the woman who had dropped her wallet and someone had stole it, so he had tot ake care of that. and after all of that, there was an old woman who couldnt hold all of her groceries correctly, so he had to help her.

were you upset about that? he hoped not.

he walked closer to you, desperate to know what bothered you.

¨look at me peter. how do you even like me? im just a big mess, im nowhere near looking like some model on the cover of vogue.¨ you said, flailing out your arms to help further state your point.

´what?' he thought. what did you mean? you were standing in front of him, and god, that dress was one of his favorites.

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he dates it back to a random day in june where he insited on taking you out shopping, just because.

you guys stopped into a mom and daughter boutique, when you layed eyes on the most dainty, beautiful dress. it was yellow, and had a v-neck, which went down pretty low -which no one complained about- and was right up to your thighs. you were going to leave it, but peter insisted that you try it on. in fact he practically made you try it on. when you came out of the dressing room he was facing the other way, staring at the other dresses.

¨hey dork look over here." you´d said playfully. peter quickly recongnised your voice and turned around and the look on his face- it was like he seen an angel.

¨oh my god. y/n, you look... you look stunning." he managed to breath out while walking even closer towards you.

he grinned from ear to ear while quickly pulling his phone out of his pocket and snapping a picture of you.

¨peter!¨ you laughed, reaching out to grab the phone. ¨you´re getting that. i dont care what you say." he mumbled, your arms tangled together and your faces so close together you could feel him breathe.

¨its so expensive pete- i cant." he only looked of surprise.

¨who said anything about the price? im buying it for you.¨ he leaned and pecked your lips, and he could feel you smile.

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peter walked closer to you, helping you put your arms down and pushing your hair to the side of your face.

¨is that what this is about? you not looking like other women? women im not dating?"

¨peter-" you started, but he didnt let you finish by putting his pointer finger onto your lips.

¨you´re so fucking beautiful. i need you to know that. when i look at you, i dont care about anything else in the room because its suddenly just you and me.¨ his tone was as serious as you ever heard him get with you. he was telling the truth.

he never wanted you feeling insecure of yourself, or ever comparing yourself to other women.

he was dating you for you. that´s what he loved most. he didnt want you to change whatsoever.

your head ended up on his chest, a tear rolling from down your cheek onto his freshly laundered suit. he didnt care- all he cared about was making you feel better.

this night was supposed to be one of love and each other. he never wanted you feeling inferior, and espescially on his account. he wanted you to feel amazing tonight, to feel like you were loved- because you were, more than you could ever possibly fathom.

after staying in that positition for at least 5 minutes, you sniffled, and pulled your face up to look at him.

´i´m sorry. i ruined our night pete.¨ he nodded, completely reassuring you with the look on his face.

his fingers ran through your hair feeling the light curls you´d put into it earlier.

¨hey, no. you didnt ruin our night baby. i love you so much okay?"

you nodded, smiling at his dorky face. the face you fell in love with.

you were gonna be okay. he loved you, for you. everything was okay. this night was not going to waste, it was a day that didnt happen all the time. you were determined to make it work.

you then stepped away from him, looking in the mirror and cleaning up the mascara that had ran into your face.

you could feel his eyes on you as you walked past him, grabbing the pair of heels you´d flung across the room an hour ago. strapping them on he looked at you questioningly,

¨y/n, what´re you doin?¨

your eyes met his and stood up, placing your hands on his waist. you bit your lip and peered at his handsome self.

¨the ´greentons´ are going to be late to dinner if they dont leave soon.¨

you both instinctively looked over at the clock, that read 8:49pm. all peter could let out was a chuckle and fancily walked towards the door of your bedroom.

¨mrs.greenton?" he said in a funny posh accent, offering you his arm.

you giggled and brought your shoulder to your chin all flustered. taking steps forwards, you linked your arm with his.

¨mr.greenton?¨ you replied, mimicking the exact same posh accent.

mr and mrs. greenton made it on time to dinner, and had an amazing night. the yellow dress also seemed to have landed on the floor that night, but thats neither here nor there.

a/n: hiii babies!!! i tried to write this best i could, so i hope everyone finds this interesting! anyways, i love you! and i just got a new laptop so be on the lookout for some new fics <333 -nina

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raineydays411 · 4 years ago

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The best of friends pt3

Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Summary: So it turns out that you do have other friends. Who would’ve guessed?

A/n: Hello! So.. because i don’t feel like writing the whole fight scene, the events of homecoming already happened before the actual dance and Liz is moving after the school year ends.

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“Am I dreaming or is that you Jason Todd?”

“Yeah its me, don’t cream your pants.”

You laugh, running to embrace your friend, and he catches you spinning you around then putting you down.

“What are you doing here?” You ask breathlessly, “Doesn’t your dad hate leaving Gotham?”

“Well he had a meeting with your dad today, so we made him bring us.”

“Ohh, so that’s the meeting dad didn’t want to go to” You think.

“You’re brothers are here?” You look around for the boys, but not seeing any.

Jason laughs, “Just Tim and Damian, I kind of ditched them at the Tower, I think I would’ve gone crazy if I stayed another second.”

“Aw, were you expecting me to be there?” You tease, grinning wide as the boy turned a light shade of red.

“Oh please, if you were there I think I’d die of boredom” He teases back, a matching grin growing on his face. But before you can answer back you hear Mj shout at you.

“Y/n! Are you gonna keep flirting or can we go on some rides?”

“Yeah Iron baby, are you gonna keep flirting?”

You roll your eyes at the nickname, despite your protests you know he’s not going to stop calling you that.

“Hey you’re not here with anyone are you?” “Um no why?”

You grab his hand and pull him towards Mj and Ned, who were looking at the both of you in shock.

“You’re Jason Todd..” Ned says, surprised to see him here.

“Uh..hi” Jason responds, not knowing what to say.

“Jay and I are friends” You say, “ We hang out at the galas and judge people.”

Jason laughs, “That is not what we do.”

“Oh? So then why do you mean mug people from the corner of the room?”

Mj and Ned make eye contact, having a silent conversation as you and Jason banter.

“So, you’re one of Y/n’s ‘friends that don’t live in the city’?” Mj asks, eyeing Jason and you.

He slings and arm on your shoulders, “ Is that what you call us Y/n?” He turns to Mj to respond but before he can answer Peter and Liz finally make an appearance.

“Oh so you two finally decided to grace us with your presence?” Mj drawls

“Sorry guys, I really wanted this Spiderman plush and Peter was trying to win it for me” Liz says with a giggle. Peter blushes, not taking his eyes off Liz.

You frown at the sight. Frustration growing in your head, this was supposed to be your day with Peter. And now it was ruined.

“You spent over an hour trying to win a little doll?” You said bitterly, making everyone stare at you.

“Ah come on iron baby, we all know those games are rigged.” Jason says from beside you. You tear your eyes away from Peter and Liz, “Rigged or not, I bet I can win a prize before you, Jay-Bird”

“Oh is that a bet?” “Um yeah, I literally just said that.” “Okay fine!”

Then you and Jason are off, running towards the nearest booth that gives out prizes.

“Umm, who was that?” Peter asking, looking in the direction you ran off.

“That was Jason Todd” Liz responds, “ You know, Bruce Wayne's son.”

“What was he doing with his arm around Y/n?” he asks with a frown.

“Well apparently they’re friends, he just showed up. We didn’t even notice him until we saw him spinning Y/n around like a washing machine.” Ned says with a laugh.

“What, so they’re like...close?” Peter asks. Mj and Ned look at each other.

“Um I guess...” Ned says hesitantly.

“Well, I for one, haven’t heard Y/n talk as much as she has been now.” Mj says, a knowing look on her face. Peter made a face, not understanding what Mj was talking about.

“That's true” Liz adds in, “She’s pretty quiet, it’s kinda weird.”

“Well to be fair you two haven’t been exactly talking to her.” Ned defending you, “ She opened up quite a bit after she got comfortable.”

“Yeah, besides, Peter is the one who she knows the best, I wouldn’t be comfortable hanging out with people I just met.” Mj says, glancing at Peter.

Peter didn’t know how to feel. At first he was psyched to be spending time alone with Liz. He didn’t even think about how you would feel when he invited her and his friends on your shopping day. This whole day he was trying to get closer to Liz, he forgot that you hardly knew Ned and Mj. But it was okay, you gained two new friends, and now Peter has a chance with Liz.

He looked at Liz,

“She looks so pretty” He thinks, but deep in his mind, a voice kept bringing up an image of your face.

“Oh shoot” Liz says, “ Hey guys, my mom is here to pick me up.”

“I’ll walk you to the car!” Peter shouts, startling Mj and Ned.

‘Okay thanks Pete!” Liz says, wrapping an arm around his. Peter turns back to Ned and Mj with a grin.

Ned winks back and Mj just rolls her eyes, going to find you and Jason.

As Peter and Liz walk, he starts to get nervous. This whole day he has been alone with her, but now...now he has to leave an impression.

“I had a lot-” “It was really coo-”

The two laugh

“You go first” Peter says.

“It was really cool of you to invite me, I had a great time.” Liz says with a smile. Peter grins, happy that she had a good time with him. and his friends.

“Yeah? I’m glad, I had fun too.”

They finally make it to the parking lot where Liz’s mother is waiting. Liz’s face suddenly looks nervous.

“Hey Peter,” Liz turns to Peter, “ Do you have a date to homecoming?”

Peters breath hitches, “Um..no-no why?”

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?”

He...he isn’t as excited as he thought he’d be. In fact, this was kind of anti-climatic.

“Y-yeah, of course!” Peter says forcing enthusiasm. Liz’s face brightens and she smiles, pulling Peter into a hug.

“Awesome! I’ll text you with the details later?” She asks, pulling away to get into the car.

“That sounds great” Then without warning, Liz grabs Peters face and gives him a quick peck.

“I’ll see you later Peter Parker.” and with that, she hopped into her mom's car and drove away. Peter stood there, hand on his mouth looking at the spot Liz stood.

For some reason..he didn’t feel as happy as he should’ve.

“What is wrong with me?” He asked himself. He shakes his head and turns around. Ready to walk back to where he last saw his friends.

Turns out, they were all at a booth near the parking lot. And saw the whole thing.

“Dude!” Ned said running up to Peter, “Liz Allen just kissed you! You’re going to HOMECOMING with Liz Allen!”

“Yeah..I am” Peter says, forcing excitement for his friend,” I can’t believe it.”

“Dude! You’ve been pining over her for YEARS! “ Ned shouts, “ You did it!”

Meanwhile, Mj is rubbing your arm in comfort as you hold back tears. You saw everything. Peter really didn’t like you the way you thought. You felt defeated, betrayed even. All those moments...they meant nothing to him. Every moment you held close to your heart.

“Hey, are you alright Y/n?” Jason whispers, sensing your sadness.

“um..no not really...” you whisper back, feeling a tear run down your face. Jason wipes it away before you could.

“Hey, come on lets get you something to drink.” He pulls you away from Mj with a nod. But before he could get far, Peter called out

“Y/n..are you okay?”

You don’t say anything, your back turned to him so he doesn’t see your face.

“She’s not feeling too hot, I’m gonna get some water and food in her, see if she perks up” Jason responded for you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

Peter looks at the arm, “I can do that” He steps closer to you but before he can touch you, you speak up.

“Don’t touch me, I want Jay to take me.”

And with that, Jason adjusts his grip on you and walks you to a food truck. Leaving behind a disheartened Peter.

You sit on a bench as Jason orders you some food. Alone, you’re able to gather your thoughts and think about what just happened.

“Did Peter really not like me? If he didn’t why did he act so flirty with me?”

It made you mad. It wasn’t fair that he made you feel special then dropped you as soon as someone else came along. He ignores you all day for her, then acts innocent? Screw that.

“Here you go, one greasy ass burger and a bottle of water. We dine like true kings.”

Jason plops down next to you, “So are you gonna tell me whats wrong or what?”

You scoff, “ Wow, you sure have a way with the ladies.”

“Whatever.” the raven haired boy rolls his eyes, “ So what’s up? Is it that Peter kid?”

You sigh and explain everything. From when you first met Peter to now. After you were done, Jason stayed quiet. Digesting what you just told him and trying to find the right words to say.

“Fuck him.” He says simply.

“What?” You say surprised at his comment.

“Fuck. Him” He repeats looking you in the eye, “ Why are you going to waste your time on someone who doesn’t want you? It’s his lose anyway.”

You stay quiet, not exactly knowing how to respond.

Two of you eat in silence, watching parents run after their children, and take in the atmosphere.

“Hey.. we never did finish our bet.” Jason says, standing up.

You look up at him, a small smile forming on your face. “No, I guess we didn’t.”

“Well come on, I don’t have all day.” He holds out his hand, refusing to look at you. You take it, interlocking your fingers.

You walk in silence, faces red but its comforting. It was nice to see this side of Jason. When the two of you see each other, you both have a this fake persona for the media. You couldn’t truly show who you really were. You only caught glimpses of each others true self when you’d sneak away from the crowds. You both hated those stupid galas Bruce threw. Your dad would force you to go so he wouldn’t be alone, and Jason had to go as Bruce Waynes son.

A match made in heaven.

“Here we are.” Jason says, releasing your hand. “Ready to get your ass handed to you?”

“Oh you wish Todd.”You scoff, walking up to the man running the booth.

“Hello little lady, three bucks for a three chances.”

You hand him the money and get the balls. It seemed simple enough, toss the balls, knock down the clowns, win the prize.

You wind your arm back, and throw the ball with all your might. You end up knocking down two out of the five clowns down. You go again, getting the other three.v

“You got a good aim little miss. What can I get for ya?”

“The Iron man please.” You hear Jason scoff from his place behind you, “ Oh, is someone a little salty he lost the bet?”

“Whatever princess, it was pure luck.”

“Luck? or years of training with an expert marksman?” You say referring to the times you trained with Clint.

“Whatever.” He says rolling his eyes.

“Aw come on Jay bird, don’t be so salty.” You coo, “ Here, something to remember me by.” You hand him the Iron man with a smirk. He takes it with a sigh, trying to hide the smile forming on his face.

“Yeah yeah, come on let's go play that booth with the balloons.” He takes your hand, dragging you to the booth.

It turns out to be a game with water guns. You both race to make the balloon pop. Jason wins at this game

“Ha” He says turning to you with a smirk. “ Aw, come on Princess, don’t be so salty.” He turns to attendant “ yeah can i have the Red Hood, thanks”

He hands you the Red Hood doll, “ Here, something to remember me by”

You roll your eyes, “ Don’t you use my words against me.” You take the doll, looking it over, “ Hey, why the Red Hood?”

Jason freezes, as you caught him in a lie or something. “Uhh, cause...he’s from Gotham, and so am I...”

You squint at him, finding his response weird, “Um, okay?”

He looks relieved with your acceptance. Weird.

He takes your hand again and you both walk around, catching up on stuff you’ve missed in the months you haven't seen each other. While you were talking, you could’ve sworn you saw a flash of light from the corner of your eye.

Oh well.

“Hey guys, over here.”

You both turn to see Ned and Peter.

“Hey, where’s Mj?” You ask as the two boys walk up to you and Jason.

“She had to leave, her dad picked her up a few minutes ago.” Ned replied, “We were coming to look for you guys.”

“Oh, are you ready to go?” You asked, “ Is anyone picking you up Ned?”

“Nah I’m spending the night at Peters, we’re gonna watch Star Wars.” He says excitedly.

Jason snorts, and you elbow him in the stomach, “ I happen to like Star Wars very much. And even if I didn’t, don’t be a dick to my friends.”

“Sorry man, you just reminded me of my...brother, Tim. Sounds like something he’d like.” Jason says apologetically.

“I’m friends with Y/n Stark..” Ned whispered.

Peter was quiet, he hasn’t said a word since he saw you and Jason laughing together. His mood worsened when he saw your intertwined hands.

“So, you’re feeling better.” Peter states, avoiding your eyes.

“Um, yeah...guess I just needed some food in me.” You mutter. An awkward silence coming over the group.

“Hey are we going to ride the subway? It sucks going on there at night.” Ned says breaking the silence.

“Is it? I know I hated walking around at night back home.” Jason says with a frown.

“Yeah man, my mom had to work late one night and she said she saw two homeless people getting it on.”

The four of you cringe at the thought.

“I’ll call Happy” You say pulling out your phone. You walk away, letting go of Jason's hand.

The three boys are left alone, not exactly knowing what to say to each other.

“So...how do you know Y/n?” Ned asks

“Oh uh” Jason goes to say how he knows you when he stops, he noticed how Peter’s mood seemed to worsen when he saw him with you.

“Me and Y/n ditch galas together.” He says, “ We sneak into my room and...play games.”

Peters face darkens, “Play games?”

“Yeah, you know”

“No. I don’t.”

“Interesting..” Jason thinks to himself

“Like poker and shit”He replies, “ She’s shit at it, but i like seeing her get all happy when she wins so I let her.”

Peter smiles, knowing how happy you get when you win at games. Then frowns, knowing that Jason has seen you the same way he has.

“Hey, whos that?” Ned asks, “ He’s been looking at Y/N for a while now.”

Peter and Jason whip their head towards where Ned was pointing. Low and behold, there was a guy staring at you. You, too busy on your call with Happy, weren’t paying attention to your surroundings.

The guy looked like a creep. His eyes roaming your body as if you were a piece of meat. It was disgusting. But before Peter could do anything, Jason was already striding towards you.

Now, Peter was strong, but he wasn’t too intimidating out of his suit. But jason? Jason was massive, even for an eighteen year old. He was tall, very well built, and just had this dark aura around him.

Peter didn’t like him.

Meanwhile, you were chatting to Happy about the where you were, apologizing for calling him so last minutes.

“Thanks so much Happy, I’ll see you right now.”

“Yeah yeah.” He hangs up. You chuckle putting your phone back into your purse. Looking up you see Jason striding towards you.

“Hey i just-” He cuts you off, harshly slamming his arm above your head and leaning in close.

“Theres a man staring at you.” He whispers, “ Right over there.”

You follow his gaze, seeing the man who has a frightened expression. Jason was sending a death glare his way that could have frightened Batman himself. The man scurries off without a second glance.

Jason gently thumps you on the back of your head, “See what happens when you stand there like a space cadet.”

‘Oh..I was?”

Peter and Ned walk up to the two of you

“Y/n, you have to be more aware when you’re by yourself.” Peter scolds.

“He’s right, or its going to be your own damn fault when someone kidnaps you.”

“Oh right.” You say standing up straight and alert. Jason rolls his eyes.

“We said when you’re alone.” “Right.” you say still alert.

“You don’t have to worry about it when you’re with me, you can space out whenever you want.”

“Oh? You gonna protect me Jay-bird?”

Jason just smiles, not responding as he looks away from your face.

“So, is Happy coming or what?” Peter asks rudely, taking you by surprise. He’s never talked to you like that before.

“Um..yeah he’s on his way.” You respond, “ He should be here in a few minutes.”

Peter nods. Yet another uncomfortable silence falls on the group.

You start walking to the entrance, and without a word the boys follow you.

You don’t get it, first Peter ignores you all day and now he’s mad at you? What the hell is he playing at?

“So I’m assuming you’re staying at the Tower?” You ask Jason, “ Your dad would be blowing up your phone if you weren’t.”

“I turned it off” Jason says with a smirk, “ I’m sure they’ll be alright.”

You laugh at his antics, knowing that he’s gonna get an earful when he gets back. Then. from the corner of your eye, you see Peter roll his eyes and glare at Jason. Ugh, what a weird day.

Finally Happy, shows up. You pile into the car, a tight fit with all four of you, but you make it work.

The tension in the car is so thick you can cut it with a knife. Happy doesn’t even make any comments, he just drives to Peter’s house to drop him and Ned off. As soon as he gets there, he jumps off the car as if something bit him. Going into the building without a goodbye. Ned just awkwardly smiles and says bye, then follows Peter into the apartment.

“Okay...That was weird.” Happy says, “What happened? Usually the kid won’t shut up.”

“I have no idea. He’s just being a dick I guess.” You respond sourly. Looking out the window, signaling that you were done with the conversation.

You finally get home, exhausted physically and emotionally. As you ride the elevator, you think about today's events. So much has happened today it makes your head spin. You were,’t even paying attention when you got to your floor, Jason having to nudge you to get you to move.

“Jason.”, you hear a deep voice rumble. You look up at the sound and giggle

“Looks like you’re in trouble Jay-bird.” “Shut up, please.”

You laugh again, “It’s lovely to see you again Mr. Wayne, are you staying at the Tower tonight?”

“Hello Y/n” Bruce says, “ It seems so, seeing as my son has been missing all day and we’ve missed our check in time.” He glares at Jason.

“Aw come on Bruce, we’ll all have a sleepover, bread each other’s hair and tell secrets” You dad says coming out of nowhere. He pecks the top of your head.

“Hey kid, how was it?”

“Ugh, don’t even get me started” You say rolling your eyes, “ How was the meeting?”

“Ugh don’t even get me started.” Then he turned to Jason, “ Hey, didn’t know you were a fan.”

You laugh, knowing he’s referring to the plush you won for him. “Where’s the rest of the boys?”

“Damian fell asleep and Tim is in your fathers lab tinkering.” Bruce responds, “ I was about to head to bed.”

“Oh me too, I’ve had quite the day.” You hug your dad, “ Night pops.”

Then you turn to Jason, “ I had fun today Jay, thanks. Good night Mr. Wayne.”

And with that, you walk off to your room, desperate to shower and sleep this day away.

“So, care to explain why your phone was shut off?”

Yikes, poor Jason.

#peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker imagine #tony stark x daughter!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd #marvel x reader #marvel #marvel and dc #crossover #fanfic #reader insert

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lemonpeter · 3 years ago

Text

🧡Day 3: S*x Work🧡

Harry has my brain right now I’m sorry lol I’m trying to think about Tony instead. I hope y’all enjoy 🧡

Warnings: Tony/Peter main focus, established Harry/Peter relationship, starker nff, s*x worker!Peter, Peter is over 18

***

Tony knew what was going on as soon as he saw the young man.

It wasn’t unusual for a host of an event to show up with someone hired. It looked good to have something pretty on your arm, and a hire was an easy fix when there wasn’t a partner in their life.

Although it did shock him to see a man on the arm of one Harry Osborn.

It was practically Harry’s coronation, a prince taking the throne of CEO. And Tony expected that he’d continue to be sucking up to his father. Doing everything just as he expected.

The looks of disdain that Norman kept throwing the two young men told Tony that he had been mistaken.

Who knew.

No matter what, the man was gorgeous. And was really good at his job.

He laughed at just the right moments, he mingled with every stuck up guest surrounding them, he gave the younger Osborn looks that could have fooled anyone into believing that they were actually in love.

Anyone but Tony, of course. He knew how it all worked.

After a while he lost track of the couple. He did some mingling of his own with business partners and former clients until the few drinks he had told him that it was time to find a restroom.

The venue was unfamiliar, so he found himself wandering down the hall and looking for signs that would lead him in the right direction.

Eventually he found a door that seemed right and he opened it before slamming it shut again. “Sorry!”

The image of that gorgeous arm candy on his knees was burned into his memory, though.

“Fuck.” He heard Harry mumble through the door. “Get up, someone’s already looking for us, Pete.”

A heavy sigh. “We’ve barely done anything. We can keep going for a minute-“

Tony was frozen, listening to them.

The door opened a moment later and he came face to face with a very flushed Osborn.

“Oh, fuck. Of course it was you.”

“I was just looking for a bathroom,” Tony blurted out. “Not looking for you.”

Harry didn’t look convinced. “Please just- don’t tell anyone. Although I know you have no reason to do me any favors.”

“Tell anyone what? Kid, I’m pretty sure that’s his job. No one cares.”

The other man stepped out, still straightening himself out. “Contrary to popular opinion, I’m not here as an escort.”

“So you’re not-“ Tony didn’t buy it. Although maybe he was just hoping for his own sake.

Knowing that the angel in front of him was out of reach just might have broken his heart. He was that attracted to him. But he just couldn’t help it.

“I am. I mean, not an escort per se...” The young man crossed his arms. “But this isn’t a job.”

Harry groaned, covering his face. “I’m pretty sure this is making it worse, Pete.”

The other man - Pete? - just looked up at Tony, cocking his head to the side. “But it doesn’t matter. Harry, we’re out tonight, we’re out. Who cares what he says to anyone?”

Tony was stuck on the previous thing. “So you are a- well, whatever you want to call it?”

“Yes. I can give you my information if you want. And I don’t need a title, just call me Peter.”

He did want. He definitely did want that. But he was still confused. “If this isn’t a job then, what-“

“We’re together.”

That definitely wasn’t what he was expecting. He might have even staggered back a bit with how surprised he was. But maybe that was just his flair for the dramatic. It really was pretty shocking, though.

“O….Kay.” He’d ask later. For now, he was sticking with the information he had. And he had to find out how to get time with gorgeous Peter.

“How much for an hour?” Tony asked.

Peter didn’t miss a beat. “A grand.” At an annoyed sound from Harry he laughed. “But I’m not available for the next few hours.”

“I’ll pay ten if you’ll be with me right now.”

The couple exchanged a look. “Half an hour,” Harry countered.

“Sure, whatever you say.” Tony grinned. “Get back out to your party. Promise I’ll return him to you in one piece.”

Peter snorted, setting a timer on his phone. “Your thirty minutes starts now. What do you have in mind?”

Harry watched them warily. He kissed Peter’s cheek, sighing. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. It’ll be fast, don’t worry.”

Tony scoffed. “Was that an attack on my stamina? Because-“

“Thirty minutes isn’t long, Stark. That’s it.” Peter grinned. “So defensive.”

“You’re wasting my time, Osborn. Skedaddle.” Tony waved his hands.

Peter snorted, pulling him into the same room that they’d come out of.

Tony grinned at him. “Feisty. I like it.”

“Okay. Seriously, what do you want? Because we really don’t have that much time.” Peter was already reaching for Tony’s belt.

“First? I’m actually going to go find a bathroom. What I was trying to do before all this.” He felt a little bad about interrupting them, but figured that they could pick up where they left off later. And the thought that he once again pissed off an Osborn made him smile.

“K. Should I just wait here?” Peter moved his hands and leaned against the wall.

“Why would you follow me? Yes, stay here. Just a minute.” Tony opened the door again before pausing. “I still...don’t know where it is.”

“Maybe I should follow you.” Peter laughed under his breath. “You were, like, two doors off. To the left.”

“Thanks. Don’t go anywhere.”

Tony left and was back within a couple minutes, but he knew that he had very little time to waste. Half an hour wasn’t much at all.

Although he would definitely be getting Peter’s contact information for another time.

He was back in the small room where he left Peter, raising an eyebrow when he saw the younger man with his tie loose and shirt unbuttoned. “Eager?”

“Figured I wouldn’t just stand here while I waited. What, is this not what you wanted?” Peter teasingly moved his hands over his chest.

And how did he keep getting more and more perfect? The unbuttoned shirt revealed hard abs and a v that nearly made Tony drool. There needed to be statues of that body. He was halfway to thinking through the costs of such a thing when Peter’s laugh snapped him out of it.

“Down, boy.”

Tony snorted, a little surprised. “I’m not paying you to tell me to stop ogling. Remember, I’m way overpaying you for this.”

“It’s my personal time. I get to decide what’s overpaying.” Peter stepped forward, his fingers starting to unbutton Tony’s shirt. “Now. You have like…twenty three minutes left.”

“Half of what’s gone was because your boyfriend wouldn’t leave.”

“Mmm. You could have taken advantage of your time anyways. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s seen me with a client.”

Why was that so appealing to think about?

“Right. Well, first I actually want to talk. Is that okay?” Tony didn’t stop him from slowly unbuttoning his shirt anyway.

Peter nodded, confused. Everyone wanted to jump right into the good stuff, especially with such a short time. Although he never usually did less than two hours.

Maybe he was just curious as to what Tony had in mind.

“Alright. So you said you and Osborn are a thing, how long has that been going on?” He really had so many questions about that alone.

“Officially? Today’s our first time being out together. But we’re been a couple for a little over a year now. But we’ve known each other our whole lives. Grew up together and all that.” Peter made his way down Tony’s shirt as he talked, until it was hanging open.

“Huh. That’s interesting, I always assumed he was straight. Scandals with girls, yknow.” Tony slid his jacket and now-open shirt off.

The younger man nodded, hands on Tony’s hips. “Yeah, everyone assumed. But he hid it for a reason. His dad is pissed. And we knew he would be. So he just…tried to look one way. Threw everyone off.”

“Did a good job. I’ve never seen you before,” Tony commented. “I would have remembered.”

“That’s because I’m not associated with the company in any way. And the media isn’t interested in a random kid from Queens.” Peter shrugged, undoing Tony’s belt.

“Interesting.” The older man helped. “Well, I think that’s most of my questions. Can I touch you?”

Peter nodded, laughing a little. “You can. And happy to answer.” It was more than he would have answered with anyone else. He wasn’t really sure why he was so open with Stark. “What are you thinking you want me to do?”

“I wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to get on your knees for me, honey.” Another thing popped into his head as he watched him get down. “So he’s okay with this? Being in a relationship while being in sex work?”

The younger man nodded, pulling Tony’s pants down his hips and thighs. “Yeah. I think sometimes he gets a little jealous but we work it out. We talk. I assure him that he’s the only one I actually love.”

Tony licked his bottom lip, nodding. “That makes sense. Alright, now I’m done. I don’t want to talk about him any more, I just want to think about you, gorgeous. Is that okay?”

“Perfectly okay.” Peter got his boxers down and let the man’s cock rest against his cheek. “Let’s really get started….”

***

They went over the half hour.

Not by much, only a couple minutes, but still. Tony noticed. And he mentioned it. But Peter only waved him off and finished getting him off.

They straightened themselves out when they were done and Tony pulled his phone out.

“I should have done this first, but do you have some kind of account I need to send the money to? Or-“

Peter shook his head quickly, taking his phone and adding himself as a contact. “Just think of this as a…test run. I’d feel bad charging you all that for one bj.”

Tony blinked, taking his phone back when it was pressed into his hands. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Now go away, I’ll come in in a minute. We don’t need to look like we’re coming in together.” Peter pulled his own phone out and winced when he saw how swollen his lips were.

“Okay. Thank you.”

The young man shot him a small smile. “No problem.”

Tony made his way back to the ballroom, still trying to make sense of everything that happened.

He made eye contact with Harry as he came in and gave him a small nod. He didn’t know what else to do, his mind still fogged by everything.

He’d definitely be calling Peter soon.

#starker #parksborn #starker nff #I’m fixated okay lol I warned you #peter parker #tony stark #harry osborn #my writing #bri’s kinktober 2021 #idk what all to even tag this lol #don’t come after me I’m just tagging things correctly #been there done that #block the tags you don’t like

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ambertea · 3 years ago

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fatherhood

Tentoo prepares himself for the birth of his child by trying to become the perfect dad.

It was strange, being a human.

It wasn't just that he had to watch his sugar intake now, or that his hair was receding at a worrying pace. It wasn't even the extraordinary amounts of drinking and eating he had to do, the peculiarity of human existence that forced him to constantly shovel things in his mouth.

(Read on AO3)

It was a culture shock, more than anything else. He had lived among humans for years, shared hundreds of years of his life living with their habits. But it was different, somehow. It was as though he was living abroad, rather than simply taking a holiday, and he often found himself struggling to untangle their bizarre social norms.

“Are you listening to me?”

He looked up, his eyes darting around the room. He had been engrossed in the newspaper, ticking off inaccuracies or improbabilities, and drawing tiny TARDISes in each white square of the crossword puzzle.

“Yes.”

Rose looked doubtful. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.”

“So, what do you think?”

He hurriedly scanned the room, looking for something to have an opinion on. The walls were the same colour. The curtains, too. Even the windows looked just the same as yesterday.

“Good.” He nodded forcefully. “Good. Very good.”

“Great.” She grinned, and he relaxed.

She threw herself on the sofa next to him and stroked his shoulder.

“So, when should we start trying?”

He kissed her forehead, trying to gain some precious thinking seconds.

“Uh. Tomorrow?”

She held her head in his lap, gazing up at him with some strange human emotion.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be parents.”

Oh.

He wanted to have a child. He really did. He loved kids, enjoyed their brutal honesty and vivid imaginations. He had had children before, of course he had, and although he didn't spend an awful lot of time thinking about it, he still thought of himself as a Dad.

The responsibility of being the father of Rose’s child, though, was something else.

Everything about her was perfect. She had a beautiful face and an equally magnificent soul. Hell, she had literally been a Goddess at one point. What if his silly genes were more dominant than hers, and rather than the wonderful baby that she deserved, she ended up with a child just like him?

The only solution, really, was to just become the perfect dad. So far, Netflix had told him it included a lot of DIY, and sometimes crossing his arms. He could do that. His last body had been a wonderful mechanic, and he was sure he’d folded his arms at some point in 900 years.

The drill looked a bit scary. He would have felt better using his sonic screwdriver, but it wouldn’t have looked nearly as cool. Rose was watching him, looking concerned.

“Do you have to hold it in your mouth?”

He tried to talk, and spat the drill out, exasperated.

“Yes! I need to be holding your hand too. The baby needs to feel how good of a dad I am.”

She squeezed his arm and leant into his body.

“I’m sure they’ll know either way.”

He doubted it. Probably, they would be watching perfect Simon next door, with his massive toolbox and fancy shed, wishing that their dad could be equally handy.

“What are you drilling, then?” She asked, and he looked around the garden in panic.

He hadn't thought about that bit yet. He'd been flabbergasted by the sheer amount of attachments, and then annoyed over the stupid power chord that needed at least 3 extension leads to go anywhere useful. He'd had a vague image of himself drilling a bit of wood, and Rose clapping at his brilliance. But there wasn't any wood out here, the garden empty but for a few gnomes.

One looked up at him judgmentally, and he made a mental note to kick it when Rose wasn’t around.

“Uh – I thought I would practise, for now.”

“What, like just…turn it on?”

“Yep,” he said frantically. “A test run. See how, um, spinny it is.”

Rose dropped his hand, and he turned to her, offended. She was clutching her stomach, her eyes lit with – was that fear? Happiness?

“Rose? Are you okay?”

She nodded slowly, a small, gentle smile growing. Retaking his hand, she pressed it against her stomach, and he felt his single heart jump when he felt it.

“They’re kicking,” he whispered, dropping to his knees and pressing his ear against her stomach. The baby kicked him straight in the head, and he stared in wonder.

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

Okay, so maybe the drilling thing had failed. It was no wonder, really, he was a highly intelligent part-time lord, who couldn’t be wasting his time standing around all day just pointing hand tools at walls. His baby was unlikely to be properly impressed with that, anyway, being of superior intellect themselves.

Perhaps he needed to talk to an expert. An actual parent, one that had managed to raise an impressive child.

He thought about Jackie for a second and instantly squashed the thought.

Pete wasn’t laughing at him, exactly, but he certainly had a strange little glint in his eye that the Doctor didn’t appreciate.

“You want me to teach you how to…parent?”

The Doctor groaned. This had been a stupid idea. He turned to go, but Pete quickly grabbed his shoulder.

“Sorry. I was a mess when Jacks was pregnant, so I guess this is no different.”

“It is different!” The Doctor said, offended. “It’s Rose.”

“So just be there for her. Help her with things. I’m sure the baby would…respect that.”

The Doctor stared, wide-eyed. Pete was right. The baby was going to love Rose, just like everyone else who met her, and if he could be seen helping her…

“Thanks, Pete, bye.” He yelled, legging it out of the room.

“What are you doing?”

He frowned, offended, and the wooden spoon rolled off his tongue and onto the floor. Rose eyed it, eyebrow raised.

“How are you doing today, my darling?”

“When did you start calling me that?”

“I can call you something else!” He offered desperately. “Sweetie? Sugar? Love? Babe?”

“Do not call me babe.”

“Honeybunny?”

She was looking at him as if she was slightly concerned for his health.

“I’m making dinner.” He said quickly, gesturing to the wok. She walked over, suddenly interested, and peered down with a look that he couldn't decipher.

“Malteasers?” She asked faintly. He nodded.

“And bananas. And tea, too, for the sauce. All your favourites!”

She kept her face down, shoulders shaking. Probably, he thought, stunned in the face of his great generosity.

“Thank you, Doctor.” She finally choked out between gasps, patting him fondly on the shoulder. He puffed out his chest and went to go sort out the crockery.

“I think we should start buying things.” Rose said one day. Her legs were draped over his lap, his hands massaging her feet.

He looked at her in shock. He hadn’t even thought about all the things the baby would need, being more focused on Rose and her ever-changing moods. They were going to need so much stuff, and it was all going to have to be perfect, as well, lest the baby grew unhappy with its drab surroundings.

He knocked her feet off his lap and set off into a run.

“Why,” Rose asked, her hands on her hips, her stomach peeking out under her bottom, “do we need five cribs?”

“The baby needs options!” He insisted, gesturing at the cradles circling the room. They were all in different shades of white, with tiny little mobiles hovering over them. He had made the mobiles himself, fashioning tiny little Earth, Gallifrey and TARDIS charms to hang over the crib.

He frowned, wondering if he’d done something wrong. Maybe he should have gotten some different colours—he knew humans' fixation on pinks and blues for their offspring. Perhaps he should have picked up a few more.

“You don't think the baby will like them?” He asked, feeling a bit crushed.

Rose smiled, and hugged him, her round bump pushing into his belly.

“They’ll love them.”

Rose was in labour, and he was having a heart attack.

He didn’t like only having one heart on a good day. As a Time Lord, he’d loved Rose, but he’d also loved space, and the TARDIS, and pretty much any fascinating person he met. Now having only one, it felt like his whole body was focused on just her – everything else seemed so less important, less crucial for his day-to-day survival.

What if one heart wasn't enough? What if he couldn’t love their baby properly? What if the child grew to be unloved and unloving, unable to feel the wonderfully wide spectrum of human emotion, all because he had one, stupid heart and it was already used up.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Doctor,” Rose moaned, and he hurried over to clutch at her hand.

Rose was holding her baby.

No—his baby. No, theirs.

She looked up at him, her face pink and drenched in sweat, a soft, beautiful smile stretched across her face.

“Do you want to hold her?” She whispered, rocking the pile of blankets gently, and he nodded, dumbstruck.

Carefully, the baby--his baby!-- was settled into his arms, and he gazed at her, tears trickling down his face.

“Hello,” he whispered.

She opened her eyes and blinked up at him. Her tiny, pudgy little arm stretched out to him, reaching out towards his face, and his singular heart stretched and grew.

"She's perfect." He told Rose, who nodded, looking at him with yet another expression he couldn't untangle.

He looked back down at his daughter and ran his finger over her cheek, marvelling over how soft, how precious she was.

"I'm going to look after you," he choked out. "I'm going to be the best dad on Earth. You'll see."

The baby looked up at him, eyes filled with trust, and he thought that maybe, if he tried really, really, hard, he might just be able to do it.

#my family are in town and i have 0 time so please forgive any editing errors!#tentoo is a baby who must be protected at all costs #fics

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randomfandomimagine · 4 years ago

Text

Secret Identity (Peter Parker x Reader)

Characters: Peter Parker, Miles Morales, May Parker

Fandom: PS4 Spiderman

Tags: Secrets, protectiveness

Warnings: Briefs descriptions of injury and blood

Word Count: 2,7k words

Summary: Y/N realizes Peter is behaving strangely, though nothing seeems to make sense until Spiderman appears on Y/N’s house, needing their help.

A/N: I don’t know if anyone actually reads these or not, but anyway. I love some parts of this but I feel kind of insecure about this as a whole, so it would be lovely to get some feedback about it, pretty please? And do reblog if you enjoy it!!!

Peter Parker x Gender Neutral Reader

Peter Parker, always so busy… but you didn’t mind dropping by to meet him. You missed your friend, and since it was hard to catch him sometimes, you didn’t mind going out of your way. Besides, maybe you could give a hand while you were there.

When you arrived at F.E.A.S.T., you went directly to the kitchen where Peter was usually helping his aunt. But there was only May there, so you went to say hello.

“Hi, May” You greeted her as you approached her on the table. “Do you need some help?”

“Oh, no, thank you” She smiled at you, dedicating you a quick glance before returning to her vegetables. “If you’re looking for Peter, he’s right there”

Following the direction she absently pointed at, you saw him in the main area talking to Miles. Seeing Peter made your day, as usual. You smiled at the sight of him, at the way he kindly patted his friend’s shoulder with a beautiful bright smile.

“Thanks, I’ll go talk to him” You told his aunt, and went to meet with him.

It had only been a couple of days since you last saw him, but you were so excited that the smile stayed on your lips as you went to stand next to them. He glanced your general direction as you approached, and he had to do a double take when he recognized you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Peter smiled, like every time you met. “Wasn’t expecting to see you today”

Miles smiled at you to reciprocate the gesture, even if he did in an amused way.

“Hello” He glanced from you and back to Peter. “I have to, uh… go help May”

“Thanks” You chuckled, knowing he was just trying to let you two chat.

“What are you doing here?” Peter seemed surprised, yet his smile lingered like yours did.

“I was hoping to go for lunch with someone” You nudged him a little. “You know, talk for a bit? Do that thing that friends do… uh, hang out? It’s that what it’s called?”

“Okay…” He rolled his eyes a little, still amused by your playful tone. “I know I haven’t answered your calls, but-“

“You’re busy, I know” You punched him in the shoulder, still in a joking manner. “I just miss you, Parker”

Peter winced in an exaggerated way, teasing you as always, and held that spot. This time it was you who rolled your eyes.

“Okay” Peter laughed a little. “Just let me say bye to May and then we can leave”

You had just exited the building when Peter suddenly gasped. You frowned, worried about his mild outburst. It was then when you heard a voice behind you, causing you to turn around in alarm despite his friendly tone.

“Peter!” It was a man dressed in a black and white suit, bearing a kind expression.

“Mr. Li…” Pete replied, although in a much drier tone. You opened your mouth to ask what the matter was. However, Peter suddenly put an arm around you and held you by the waist.

“Thanks for dropping by today” Mr. Li, whose name you remembered hearing from both Pete and May as being the man behind F.E.A.S.T., lingered on his friendly tone. He seemed unfazed by Peter’s uncharacteristic coldness.

“Sure” He merely replied, never taking his eyes off him.

“Who’s this?” The man looked at you, which caused Peter to press you against his side while still staring at Mr. Li.

“That’s Y/N”

“I see. Nice to meet you, Y/N”

“You t-“ You were about to hold out your hand to shake his, but Peter squeezed your hip with surprising force, which caused you to lower your arm.

“Well, I have to go” Mr. Li still smiled, apparently oblivious to his whole demeanor. “Take care of your… friend”

“I will” Peter assured, following the man with his gaze as he walked away. His jaw was suddenly clenched so much that the bone stood out under the skin. Your heart began racing, knowing something was definitely wrong.

“Pete?” You piped up, barely daring to raise your voice.

“Yeah” He absently replied, still looking at the point Mr. Li disappeared to.

“You’re hurting me, Peter” You tapped his hand, still tightly holding on to your waist.

“Oh!” He immediately released you, seemingly returning to his usual warm self. “Sorry”

“What’s wrong?” When your eyes met, you discovered something new in his, a certain seriousness that you hadn’t experienced before.

“He’s dangerous” He muttered, glancing to that far off spot again.

“But he runs things at F.E.A.S.T., and he looks so nice!”

“He’s not, believe me”

“How do you know?”

“I just do”

There was a tense pause in which Peter took a deep breath. Then turned to you again and gently put his hands on your shoulders. Even that soft gesture seemed to hold an incredible sense of urgency.

“I gotta run, sorry about lunch” He tried to show you a smile, but failed miserably. “Go home, I’ll see you soon”

“What’s going on? You’re scaring me, Pete”

“It’s nothing, just go home”

“No, I won’t leave until you tell me-“

“It’ll be alright” His haste seemed to subside for just a second in which he tenderly stared into your eyes. “Just… trust me, okay?”

“Okay” You nodded your head, much to his relief. He visibly sighed and relaxed his shoulders. “Call me later, will you?”

“Will do” As a goodbye, Peter gave you a friendly kiss in the cheek before running off.

You stood there, watching him leave in a rush. There was something strange happening and you weren’t sure you truly wanted to know what it was. You were too scared to know.

Heeding Peter’s odd warning, you went home and stayed there. It had started to drizzle, and the pitter-patter of the rain that fell against the glass of your window filled the bedroom. Sitting in your desk, you tried to distract yourself from what had happened a few hours ago. Despite your efforts, you obsessively glanced at your phone waiting for Peter’s call.

Just when you were looking at the screen for the tenth time, a noise startled you.

“Ah!” You exclaimed, turning to the window, where the sound came from.

“Hey…” A muffled voice said as the person knocked on the glass again.

You gawked at the image. Spiderman was standing outside your window. He was there, and you had to rub your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things. What was Spiderman doing at your house?

“S-Spiderman!” You quickly ran to the window and opened it. “Are you lost?”

He stumbled inside as soon as you did, shielding himself from the bad weather. Blending in with the raindrops, a crimson liquid began staining your floor. That immediately gathered your attention to Spiderman’s side, where his suit was torn and a fresh deep-looking wound was bleeding profusely.

You pointed a finger to his abdomen, opening your mouth to ask him about it. What had happened? Would he be okay? Did he need you to call someone? What…?

“No…” He breathed out, struggling to keep his balance. “I made it”

And then he collapsed, limply falling to the floor. Your hands flew to your mouth in startle, stifling a scream, and you threw yourself to help him. As you knelt down beside him, you froze for a moment, not knowing what to do. Then, of a sudden, you wondered again why none other than Spiderman was in your house. In all of New York, he could have gone anywhere. Why go to you? Was it a coincidence? What if… what if it was deliberate? What if he knew exactly where he was going, who he was asking help from?

“No way…” You whispered, moved by a hunch. On an instinct, your hand moved up. “It can’t be…”

As your fingers shakily gripped the end of his mask, your mind was boiling with thoughts. All of them seemed to point to the same thing, and to the same person. It was like all the pieces of a puzzle you didn’t know you were trying to solve were finally coming together. You pulled at the mask to reveal his face and…

“Peter…” You gasped, watching your passed-out friend. “It’s you…”

His face was pale, sweaty and filled with bruises, but it was him. His messy brown hair stuck to his forehead and temples because of the sweat, dirt and dry blood that gathered on his skin from all of those small cuts. But it was him.

Now that you knew about his secret identity, everything made sense. Why he was always late, why he seemed so busy and why he acted strange. Especially, his caution about Mr. Li. It wasn’t Peter Parker being suspicious of him. It was Spiderman having certainties about whatever crimes that man had committed.

“I have to do something” You nervously said to yourself, panicking as you tried to put some order into your thoughts. It had been alarming enough to see an injured Spiderman in your bedroom, but the situation only worsened when you realized him and Peter were the same person. Pete was hurt, and he might be dying. Your friend needed you.

Not wanting to stay on the floor, you sneaked your arms under his armpits and tried to hoist him up. You grunted, finding him a lot heavier than you thought. Then you moved him, dragging him to the bed and hoping you were strong enough to lift him up just enough to lay him down. Once there, you would do your best to treat his wound.

Blood, there was blood in your hands. It stained your fingers and your palms. Your heart raced at top speed. It was the only thing you could hear, even over the loud sound of your frantic breathing. It was trying to tell you something was missing. Something you should be focusing your entire attention on. A blur or red and blue passed your field of vision, making you feel like you couldn’t breathe. Spiderman was swinging around the city, leaving a trail of crimson while he did. He was hurt, why would no one help him?! Then you realized… it wasn’t only Spiderman, but Peter. He was bleeding. Peter was bleeding, he was dying, he…

You sighed when a warm hand stroke your head. Finding comfort in that gentle touch, you urgently squeezed what you were holding. As that hand shook you slightly, your mind began understanding you had been dreaming and it started pulling you into reality once more.

“Y/N” A voice gingerly called you, one that you knew well.

“Huh?” You mumbled, still dazed and sleep. Nonetheless, you raised your head and looked at him. “What…?”

Slowly, you came to your senses. That heartbeat in your dream wasn’t your own, it was Peter’s. It was what you heard, as your head had been resting over his chest, your ear pressed over his heart. It was a relief that it was still beating. You were also relieved, as you glanced down at his abdomen, to see that all that blood was part of the past.

“Peter?” You smiled, suddenly reinvigorated at the sight of him. “Pete, you’re okay!”

“Hi” He weakly smiled at you, although his meek expression drastically shifted. “Wait”

Peter touched his face, probably noticing he wasn’t wearing his mask. That reminded you of everything that happened. How Spiderman, or should you say Peter, had stumbled into your bedroom, hurt and bloody. You had done a terrible job at healing his wound, as you confirmed when you looked at the crappy bandage on his torso again. Still, it had done the work and it had stopped the bleeding.

“It’s okay” You comforted him, squeezing what you realized was his hand. “Sorry that I took your mask off”

“I should have known you would” He chuckled, even if that sound was a shadow of its former self. “You would have found out sooner or later anyway”

“How are you feeling?” You rubbed your eyes, feeling silly for having fallen asleep. All your bones and muscles ached from the posture, as you were still sitting at the chair by the bed, leaning down on him.

“I’m good” He grunted, doing an enormous effort to sit up. “I gotta-“

“Don’t you dare” You scolded him, not losing a second in pushing him back down. “You almost died, you’re not going anywhere”

Peter watched you, frowning and bearing an absolute sadness in his eyes. He took your hand again, the gesture holding great urgency and emotion, and sighed.

“Sorry for worrying you, I didn’t know where else to go”

“I’m just glad you made it in time”

“Yeah, it was fun swinging when the buildings were moving. It was a challenge”

You rolled your eyes, even if you were used to his bad jokes to break the tension.

“That’s not funny, Parker”

“Parker, huh? That’s not good”

“I’m serious… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to, but…”

You stared at him, and the longer you looked the more you read his thoughts and the more you realized… he was scared. Telling you his secret was complicated and risky, and he had been too scared about many things. About how you would react, about the danger it could potentially put you in, about how many things could go wrong because of it. About the many consequences it would have for you.

“I understand” You spoke up, and even if Pete had been averting his gaze, he peered up at you now. He smiled a little and nodded his head, realizing what your words meant.

You weren’t only forgiving him for keeping it a secret. In a way, you were also thanking him for caring so much about you. At the same time, you were asking him not to keep you in the dark like that anymore. And despite the few words spoken, he understood all of this too.

A noise outside suddenly startled you two, making you hold on tighter to the other’s hand. Your eyes moved to the window, to the blurry police alarms blasting in the distance. Then you glanced at each other. Your heart skipped a beat with the dawning realization that you knew what he would say next.

“I have to go” He sat up this time, letting go of your hand.

“But you’re hurt…”

“I heal fast”

“Peter…”

“I’ll be okay, don’t worry”

Peter stood up from the bed, moving slowly and stopping for a moment when a dizzy spell apparently hit him. You nibbled on your bottom lip, hating to see him in this state. He had his eyes closed, but as soon as he recovered he opened them to look at you. A small smile formed on his lips, which somehow managed to ease your anxiety.

“Where’s my mask?” He asked, and you quickly picked it up from the bedside table and gave it to him. Your fingers brushed when he took it from you, and the tingling feeling that grazing touch gave you lingered as he moved away and put it on.

“I’ll call you when it’s over” You wanted to smile in appreciation, moved that he knew how worried you were and wanted to let you know he was okay when it was done.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but no words came out. In any case, Peter was heading for the window. He opened it, letting the cold and the rain in. He was about and leave, to swing away from you and straight into danger again.

“Pete!” As soon as he turned to face you, you threw yourself to hug him and kissed him in the cheek before nuzzling his shoulder. “Come back in one piece, will you?”

“I promise” He held you close against him, embracing that last moment of happiness and comfort. Like the calm before the storm.

When you broke away, you stared at each other for a long second. Then he took a deep breath, nodded and left. As you saw him swinging form building to building, you were conflicted. You were incredibly proud of him for being Spiderman, but you were just as worried. And scared. Still, a smile made its way to your lips. You couldn’t explain why, but you felt better when you closed the window. Because Peter’s presence lingered for a little longer even after he left, like a promise that he would be okay. Maybe it was that Parker magic. Because that wasn’t just Spiderman, it was Peter Parker.

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scoopsgf · 5 years ago

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can i get a good night’s sleep? can i PLEASE get a good night’s sleep?!

or: five times peter parker doesn’t sleep + the one time he does

my contribution to the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange! this is for @snarky-drabbles - I hope you enjoy it!

The first time is actually just the first in a while. Peter’s had problems sleeping ever since he was a little kid; it was just one issue of many that stacked up on top of each other, resulting in his personal belief that he must be the most difficult kid to look after on the planet.

Asthma meant hundreds of dollars spent on inhalers, covering what their shitty insurance didn’t. His poor eyesight was the same story and the bullies that used to break his glasses had never helped. But it wasn’t just physical crap, of course: he’s had anxiety for as long as he can remember.

There are cute side-effects like panic attacks and nausea, not to mention the constant sense of impending doom he’s been nursing since… well, birth, probably. When he was younger he’d worry about whether or not the taxi driver had enough gas in his car to get them where they needed to go, or maybe Ben would get shot at work (ironically enough, he’d never worried that Ben would get shot off-duty, and there is a teeny superstitious sliver of him that believes maybe if he had considered the possibility it never would have happened, like some kind of a reverse jinx or something).

One of the other cute things that comes along with it is insomnia.

So here he is, pacing in his kitchen at three in the morning because May isn’t home yet.

Her shift ended at two. She’s usually back within a half hour considering the hospital isn’t far, hence his agitation.

He’s tried calling and texting to no avail, and he keeps telling himself that everything is fine, that she probably just got held up; meanwhile his subconscious provides a great slideshow of mental images that speak to the opposite—her getting kidnapped because somehow someone links her to Spider-Man, her getting hit with a car, mugged, shot, slipping on black ice—and that’s actually not far-fetched considering it’s January, there’s a lot of it, and so he pulls out his phone and types, You didn’t slip on black ice and die did you? to May.

No little dots appear to signify that she’s typing. The message doesn’t even change from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’.

She has her read receipts on. She’s promised him. There’s no reason she’d change that, right? But maybe she accidentally switched them off when she was scrolling through her settings.

He calls her.

“Hi, this is May Parker, I’m unavailable at the moment but if you leave me a message I’ll get back to you as soon as—”

Peter hangs up with a dissatisfied grunt.

It’s only then that he realises, to his great dismay, that he’s paced all the way onto the ceiling.

In his shock he loses concentration and falls. “Ow, fuck.” He pulls his aching knee to his chest. It’ll no doubt be bruised soon. “God has forsaken me.”

He picks up his now cracked phone and texts Ned:

I just fell off the ceiling at 3 AM in the morning

Don’t ask me what I was doing on it

Every bone in my body is broken :(

No reply comes which is pretty typical; Ned probably passed out in front of his PC like, hours ago. Peter can picture it: the light of his computer screen casting a blue glow over everything in the room, his head probably tucked into his arms to muffle his snores (and there’s also probably a bowl of stale popcorn spilled across his floor at this point), his creepy mother lurking in the doorway—or worse, trying to find out how to snoop through his laptop while he’s out of it.

Peter could totally go swing down there and help the guy out. It would be something to do anyway.

But no. The door is too far. His suit… too much work. It’s definitely better to just stay here curled up under the table like a little turtle.

But wait—a blanket.

Is it worth the effort? Probably. Peter scans his immediate surroundings and, oh boy, Lady Fate is actually on his side tonight because there’s a gigantic purple fluffy one hanging off the couch and it only takes a little bit of physical exertion to yank it down and wrap it around his body.

He burrows deeper into it and scrolls through Instagram. MJ posted a picture of a banana today. Literally like, just a banana. No caption, no explanation on her story, nothing.

Peter double taps it and comments: i hope u asked before u took his jacket

No like. No reply. That makes sense. It is three in the fucking morning, after all.

No. Three thirty. It’s been an hour and a half.

What had May said once? That it was okay to call someone if she was two hours late?

Peter tries texting and calling one more time and then just sits there, staring at his home screen and watching the minutes pass. At exactly four AM after much deliberation and stomach churning, he calls someone else.

Three rings later: “I’m in Vienna right now so this better be good.”

Peter feels even more nauseous than before. “Oh,” he says. “I guess—never mind, then. Sorry.”

“Wait, wait, that was just for show and I’m greatly intrigued as to why you’re calling me so… early? Late? Anyway I’m out of the conference room now so lay it on me.”

Against his will, Peter’s lip quirks up. “Um, it’s kind of stupid—”

“Nothing is ever stupid,” Tony says. “Especially when it’s coming from the brain of a kid with an intelligence quotient of 260.”

He feels his cheeks heat up and then it all just comes tumbling out, “It’s really late and May was supposed to be off at two and home by two-thirty, but she’s not and I don’t know what to do. I tried calling and texting but she’s not replying and I know that I’m probably just building it up in my head but I can’t help freaking out because like, what if she got stabbed or slipped on black ice or—”

“Hey Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe.”

Tony’s voice has softened immeasurably. Something uncoils in Peter’s stomach. He flops onto his side and closes his eyes. “I’m breathing.”

“That’s good, kiddo. Now just hang on a sec, I’m gonna call the hospital.”

“What? Why?”

“Well she works there, right?”

“...Yeah.”

“And you haven’t tried calling them yet, correct?”

“...Correct.”

“Ergo,” Tony says.

“But I—”

“Yeah?”

Peter bites his lip and then he just blurts it: “I don’t want you to hang up.”

He feels like such a child but the thought of losing connection with Tony is literally making his heart palpitate and his palms sweat. He needs someone. He needs an adult.

“Well lucky for us both I have two phones.”

Peter cracks an eye. “You what?”

“I’m Tony Stark, don’t question it. Hang on, let me just—hello, hi, um, I need this room. No, it can’t wait. Yes the whole room. Yes locked. I don’t know, five minutes? Ten? An hour? No, I’m not joking. Thank you. Thanks. Yeah. Okay. Bye now.” Something slams shut—the door to the office Tony just stole, probably. “Okay, just a sec, I have the number for the reception desk she works at in my phone.”

Peter, for some reason, feels immeasurably comforted by that. He sits in silence gnawing on his lip while Tony has a somewhat muffled conversation he can’t hear the other side of. Then, “You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Okay, well, they said she’s covering for someone and can’t get to the phone because a baby had to have emergency surgery so she’s literally in the OR as we speak. Pretty badass and not bad as far as excuses go. Now that you know she’s fine and not dead by ice, how about you get some shut-eye, okay kid?”

Peter swallows. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Tony.”

“No Mr. Stark this time, huh?”

“It’s too late for formalities.”

“I see,” Tony replies. “Sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

The line goes dead. Peter, slightly relieved but not fully consoled, rolls over to face the door. He doesn’t sleep at all that night and is still there when May comes home at six in the morning with bagels and apologies.

—

The anniversary of Ben’s death is always super weird.

This time it takes him a few minutes to remember what day it is: he’s in the middle of brushing his teeth and then it hits him like a train: oh, it’s been three years.

Then comes May. She usually tries to cook something for breakfast but like always it burns. He leaves the bathroom to the sound of the smoke alarm and fans a cookie sheet at the screeching little device while she swears up and down in Italian.

“It’s okay, May, really—”

“No, it’s not!” She snaps, tossing a batch of blackened cinnamon rolls into the trash. “I just want this day to be easy for you!”

Peter goes over to her and, after kicking the oven door shut with his foot, pulls her into his arms. May starts to cry even though she tries not to; sniffles turn into barely stifled sobs. He knows that it’s harder for her than it is for him. Ben was her husband and they’d been married for thirteen years when he died. Sometimes he still catches her looking to see if he’s laughing too when they watch TV, only to find an empty recliner.

“It’s okay for it to be a bad day,” he whispers. “You know that, right? I mean, I love you to pieces, May, but I don’t wanna see you bending over backwards for me.”

“But that’s my job, doofus.”

Peter pulls back. He’s an inch taller than her now. “No it’s not. We take care of each other, okay?”

Then comes school. Ned usually hovers nervously like an agitated gnat, too afraid to say anything, not sure if he should act normal or be sad in solidarity, which means it’s kind of Peter’s job to set the tone. As he’s putting his combination in for his locker he asks, “So did you beat that level of Obra Dinn last night?”

Ned, shoulders slumping with relief, starts to ramble on about how hard it was to do and how it took him like, thirty whole tries.

They go to class. Peter zones out. He doesn’t bother making more web fluid or ditching and he gets so inside his own head that Coach Wilson compliments him again during gym class. Peter deliberately slows down after that, even if it’s kind of irritating; being physically active actually helps work off his anger.

Because that’s what he is more than anything else: angry. At the mugger, yeah, but at himself more than anything else. It was his fault that they were out that night, anyway. It’s a wonder that May doesn’t hate his fucking guts.

When school is up Peter comes home to an empty house. He thinks about going on patrol but doesn’t really feel up to it, and then he feels bad for not wanting to do it because like, what if someone is dying?

So he puts on the suit and swings from rooftop to rooftop, but there’s no action today. Peter eventually settles on a fire escape with a burrito. A stray cat hops up after a while and, despite his matted fur and crazy eyes, Peter decides he has a kind of quiet dignity about him and names him Charles.

“Do you like beef?” He asks, holding some out for Charles to sniff. The cat yowls and, without any warning other than that, nearly chomps Peter’s fingers off to get the meat.

“Ow, jeez!” Peter shakes his wrist. “I was literally giving it to you for free, but go off I guess.”

Charles blinks his big brown marble eyes and then literally jumps off the fucking ledge. Peter leans over and watches him scamper across the street, somehow not getting hit by any traffic. Sometimes he thinks his spidey sense is more like feline sense in that way: he could probably manage the same thing with his eyes closed.

After a while the sun sets and all of the streetlights turn on. Peter does another patrol around the immediate vicinity but again, nothing. He stays out anyway though because he’d rather do his Chemistry homework behind a dumpster than sit alone in the apartment with nothing but the quiet for company. At least out and about there are sewer rats and mangy dogs and shady characters who actually just turn out to be skateboarders.

Peter is almost done with his assignment when the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He looks up and finds Iron Man himself coming in for a landing. The suit drops with a barely audible clunk; it’s Mark 54, the sleekest and most lightweight model yet.

“Oh thank God,” says Tony’s voice, “you’re not dead.”

Peter frowns even though Tony can’t see it. “No,” he agrees slowly. “Why would I be dead? What are you doing here?”

“Well, your aunt called me in a panic at around four when she got home and you weren’t there, and then I checked the scanners and saw that you’d been here, completely stationary, for like five whole hours—needless to say I had a little bit of a heart attack and here I am, relieved and also mildly infuriated. Care to explain, young padawan?”

Peter opens his mouth to speak. Closes it. Opens it again and, “It’s four AM?”

“Four fifteen,” Tony corrects.

“I didn’t even—I didn’t know! Shit, May’s totally gonna kill me, I might as well be dead—”

“Woah woah woah,” the faceplate lifts, “calm down, okay? No one is mad. Just, uh, concerned, I promise.”

Peter is still frantically packing up his school supplies and not really listening. He only stops when Tony gently touches him by lightly gripping his elbow. “Kid?”

Peter stares down at the older man’s hand. Behind the mask his eyes start to burn. “Ben died.”

“Pardon?”

“Ben died,” he repeats louder. “In this alley. Two years ago.”

All at once Tony’s face falls. He moves to sit by Peter on the grimy floor of the alley while the suit hovers nearby, a hollow shell, just the way Peter feels now.

“Kid,” Tony says, “take off the mask.”

“What? No, I’m in public—”

“No one’s around,” Tony says. “Just take it off, okay?”

Peter does, reluctantly peeling it back to reveal his tear-stained cheeks. Tony stares for a second and then, almost hesitantly, he wraps his arms around Peter. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I—” he chokes. “I’m just so tired. I’m tired of having to watch May be strong for me when I can’t be strong back, and I’m tired of Ben not being around. I miss him and it—it’s not fair.”

“Of course it’s not. It’s never fair. That’s why it hurts, kiddo. You’ve got all this love and no place to put it.”

Peter bites his lip to stop it from quivering and looks away, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I just feel pathetic.”

“Don’t,” Tony says firmly. “I felt the same way after my mom died and it… In some ways I don’t think the feeling ever actually went away, but uh, take it from someone who’s had a lot more time to process: no one is expecting anything from you, okay? And I can guarantee there’s not a single human that thinks two years is long enough to be perfectly fine again. You’re allowed to still be upset about this.”

And Peter is. He’s really, really fucking upset about it and so tired of holding it in. Tony pulls him against his chest when Peter starts to cry and it sort of seems like he’ll never be able to stop. There’s just so much, so much guilt and pain and all kinds of other bullshit that he refuses to lay on May.

So he lays it on Tony. And it’s surprisingly not horrible or awkward or even the end of the world.

“You good?” the older man asks, when Peter finally sobers up enough to wipe his cheeks dry and take a few steadying breaths.

“Yeah,” he says, voice ragged and awful-sounding. “Um, sorry. For freaking you and May out and ruining your shirt, I mean.”

“You know there’s this really snazzy invention called a washing machine—”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Tony laughs and it makes Peter laugh too, and the tension between them just sort of dissipates. “Speaking of clothes,” Tony claps his hands together, “you got any to wear in that backpack?”

“Uh, jeans and a hoodie?”

“Fantastic, incredible. Throw them on, I’m taking you out for breakfast.”

“But what if someone sees?!”

“Let ’em. I’ll have Pep release a statement claiming you as my personal assistant or head intern or something.”

“That’s totally unrealistic.”

“Do I care? No. Just—okay? Up and at ’em, make haste, come on. What do you feel like, pancakes or waffles?”

They bicker about which is better the entire way to the little diner Tony choses, and Peter comes home full an hour later. May is fast asleep at the kitchen table. He kisses her forehead and starts on breakfast for her.

—

He’s thirty minutes into helping MJ study for her AP French test when she finally gets a question wrong. “‘Il n'est pas clair que’?” Peter queries, holding up the flash card.

“‘It’s not certain that’?”

He makes a pitying noise. “Close. ‘It’s not clear that’.”

“What’s not clear, exactly? That if I see one more word in French I’m gonna blow my brains out?”

Peter snorts. “No, actually it says more clarification is required on how much you like your boyfriend. Suggestions to improve that include: a hug, a kiss, both—”

“Neither?”

He pouts. “Mean.”

MJ rolls her eyes, but she kisses him first. She tastes like the Twizzlers they’ve been eating and her hands are in his hair and she laughs when he presses his lips to her cheeks and nose and forehead.

They somehow end up in an incredibly compromising position. “You know,” MJ muses, “I don’t think I’ve been studying the right kind of French.”

Peter, hovering over her (oops), nods in agreement. “This kind is definitely way better.”

She wraps her arms around his neck and he’s so consumed with this: her and him and the smell of her jasmine shampoo—that he almost doesn’t hear it.

Almost.

Peter rips away abruptly. “What was that?”

She groans. “God, you’re such a dog sometimes.”

He ignores her, sitting alert with his eyes narrowed at the window and, sure enough, there it is again: a faint, blood-curdling scream. “Someone’s being attacked or something. Maybe four blocks away tops.”

MJ squints. “Don’t tell me you can echolocate.”

“I—” Peter’s mouth snaps shut and then opens again. “I actually don’t know. Anyway, I gotta go.”

He presses a quick kiss to her cheek, throws on his jacket, and quickly ducks out her fire escape (which happens to be the same way that he came in). He slips the mask on and tosses his hood up; it’s raining in heavy, icy sheets and Peter is drenched within seconds of swinging. He remembers the first time he’d gone out during a storm; the webbing he’d made hadn’t held up because the chemical formula hadn’t accounted for the massive amounts of water-based reaction, so the biocables had evaporated as they left his shooters. Thankfully he hadn’t jumped first that day, otherwise he would be a Peter Pancake.

Another scream sounds. Peter follows it and winds up latched onto the side of a two-story brick building. There’s an incredibly dark alley below, but a quick flash of lightning tells him everything he needs to know: one man is trying to wrestle a woman down, while another is rifling through her purse. He’s also holding a gun.

“Oh, cute,” he mutters sarcastically.

Peter tries to time it right: he takes aim and shoots a web right at the weapon with the next bout of lightning, but to his immense misfortune, the armed mugger had already seen him and was aiming right back. The bullet hits Peter in the side.

“Ow,” he says, “that was uncalled for.”

He drops. His side is throbbing and hot but he ignores it in favour of disarming the guy who shot him. It’s a brief struggle but Peter ends up whacking the gun out of his hand and webbing it to the wall opposite. Then he knocks the guy out with a solid upper cross to the temple.

Peter rounds. The assailant has already fled, leaving the woman shivering but relatively unharmed.

“You okay, ma’am?” he asks.

“Me? That guy shot you!”

Peter looks down at his side which is now stained with blood. “Oh, yeah.”

He’d actually forgotten for half a second. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, he’s starting to really feel it: a burning sensation in his abdomen, an aching that pulses from his stomach to his chest. Ah. Wonderful.

A little dazed, he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me. Super healing. Are you good? You need me to call you a cab?”

“What? No, um—the police station is like, down the block, I can go get them.”

“Are you sure? Because I can totally do that—”

“I can handle myself,” she says sharply, bending down to pick up her purse and the discarded items within. “It’s just… there were two of them and there was a gun and—”

“I get it,” Peter says, his hand pressing harder into his side as the world grows blurrier around the edges. “You really don’t want me to at least walk you down?”

“I’ll take a taxi,” she says. “You just, um, get yourself fixed up, okay? And thanks.”

“Yeah, sure, anytime! But, y’know, preferably never again,” Peter says, and proceeds to swing away.

—

Tony doesn’t expect to get woken up at two AM after only just falling asleep five minutes before, but such is life; FRIDAY’s voice bleeds through the speakers above to inform him that Spider-Man is currently rifling through the Med-Bay and bleeding from a wound on his side.

Pepper looks at him. “You heard that too, right? That was real?”

“It was real.”

They both scramble out of bed. Tony takes the lead, throwing on his jacket as he runs toward the elevator. It’s times like these when every second stretches out into an eternity; it takes maybe five of them to get from their floor to the Med-Bay, but it feels like forever.

The doors open and there’s Peter, perched on a gurney with his shirt gone and a whole lot of blood staining his side. He’s bent awkwardly, clearly trying to feel his way around whatever wound he’s got.

“Um,” Tony says, approaching, “What.”

Peter looks up and—yeah, he’s lost a lot more blood than Tony had originally thought. His face is fucking drained. “Hey,” he says, offering a jaunty wave before returning his attention to his side. “I got shot.”

“Oh!” Tony nods. “Oh, okay. What the fuck, kiddo?”

“I know, right?” Peter glances up. “Hey, Pepper.”

“Peter,” she returns. “Do you mind if I wash my hands and take a look at that?”

“If you want. It’s kinda gross, though.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

Through this exchange Tony was already washing up, and now he dons a pair of gloves and sits on the rolling stool. “Looks like it’s through and through,” he tells Pep over his shoulder. “Could you grab a couple suture kits and, uh, the stuff?”

Pepper makes a face. “The stuff?”

“You know,” Tony says, “The Good Stuff.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, that stuff.”

Tony feels around the area. “Do you know what kind of gun was used?”

“Looked like your standard nine mil,” Peter replies. His voice is growing a little slurred.

That’s good though, about the gun. Means there’s probably not any bullet fragments to worry about. Tony grabs a load of gauze and presses it against the wound. He checks Peter’s pulse while he’s at it and finds that it’s slowed considerably. “We’re gonna have to get you some blood, too. A neg, right?”

“Yuppers.”

Tony excuses that because after all, the kid is bleeding out on a table. Said kid actually starts to swing his legs back and forth and, yeah, that’s not gonna fly. “Do me a favour and lay back? I’m gonna put this towel right under you for now.”

Peter doesn’t have any arguments, or if he does, he doesn’t vocalise them. Pepper comes back in with the kits and drugs and, because she’s just smarter than him like that, bags of blood.

Tony grabs the vials first and loads up a syringe. Peter is pretty numb to all of it until the needle goes in. Then he frowns. “Why are you injecting me with alien blood?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “It’s not alien blood, it’s a pain killer. A serious one at that, so you’re probably gonna feel a little out of it for a while, okay?”

Peter frowns. “Is it for Steve?”

Tony tenses, but it’s only for a second. “Yes,” he says, somewhat tightly.

“Ugh. What a turd, Mr. Stark. You’re giving me turd vitamins!” Tony scoffs while Pepper laughs. Peter notices. “See? She thinks I’m funny.”

“You’re not helping me here,” Tony says to her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Here, have some thread.”

Tony sighs. “Just stay still for me, okay?”

Peter does. Pepper passes him various supplies and they work together to sew up both ends of the gunshot wound. By the time they’re done, Peter hasn’t moved once, but his eyes are open and he’s frowning.

“How do you feel?”

“Wired,” he says.

“Seriously? Bruce never said anything about the side-effects, but I figured they’d be like normal pain-killers; make you drowsy and all that.”

“No,” Peter sits up quickly and doesn’t even flinch. “I feel like I just got steroids or something. Are you—are you actually telling me that Captain America’s drugs are infused with a stimulant? What, so he can keep fighting even when he’s in the middle of dying?”

Tony blinks. “Well that was smart of dear Banner.”

“Yeah, or insane.” Peter flexes his hands. “I feel like I need to go for a run, or like, break something.”

“Let’s avoid that,” Tony says, pushing him back down. “You need to heal, not mess yourself up even more, understood?”

Peter stares. “Is it normal to see sounds?”

Pepper bursts out laughing again. “I’m sorry,” she says when Tony glares. “Really, I am, I promise. Peter, honey, how about we get you to a bedroom where you can rest up? We’ll call your aunt and explain everything.”

—

Everything is going fine until May asks, “How did you get to the Tower so quick, then?”

Peter blinks. “Hmm? Pardon?”

“If you were at Ned’s,” May says, “how’d you manage to swing all the way across town?”

Peter opens his mouth and closes it. “I, uh… well, funny story, um… I wasn’t actually at Ned’s?”

There’s a pause over the phone. Pepper, who’s holding it, raises an eyebrow. May says: “You told me you were going to Ned’s, Peter.”

His face feels hot. He hopes it isn’t red. Both Pepper and Tony—from the doorway with his hands stuffed in his sweatpant pockets—are staring. It’s almost as bad as if May were really here.

“Well I was going to Ned’s, but then I changed my mind and went somewhere else and oh—look at the time! I think we’re going through a tunnel—”

“Don’t even try to pull that crap! That’s it, I’m coming over there—”

“May,” Peter says, serious now, “you’re in the middle of a shift, there’s people dying. Just—I’m perfectly fine, I took my Captain America drugs and everything is gonna be okay.”

“But you lied to me.”

“No, I changed my mind.”

“And went where?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Peter.”

“May.”

She groans from the other end of the line and demands to speak to Pepper one on one. Tony’s fiancé grins and switches off speaker, before slipping out with a bright laugh to finish off the conversation. Tony stares expectantly. “So where were you?”

“Oh my god, not you too. You know, on second thought, I actually am completely exhausted and—”

“Uh, nope,” Tony flops down onto the bed. “Fess up.”

Peter sighs. He squirms down and covers his pillow with a head. “No.”

Tony joins him under it. “Tell me.”

Peter scowls. He rolls onto his side so they’re facing one another. “I was with my girlfriend.”

“Oooo—”

“Shush! It’s… it’s really not a big deal and I haven’t told May yet because MJ and I haven’t even really talked about it and it all happened super fast and—” he remembers to breathe, “I just… I always tell May everything, you know? But I kind of just felt like… this was something I had to figure out first on my own. Maybe it’s stupid, but I know she’s gonna be super hurt when she finds out it’s been a month and I haven’t said anything—”

“Kid,” Tony cuts in. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Peter promises, because he is. He’s also just incredibly hyper and stressed.

“It’s a normal instinct to want to figure things out and define them before you start announcing them to the world. I get that. But you’re still a kid, Pete, and even if you don’t want people prying into your love life, we still need to know where you are in case something goes wrong.”

Peter harrumphs as he turns away. “There’s a tracker on my phone and my suit. It would be easier to find me than anything else.”

Tony clicks his tongue. “You got a point there.”

“I just wanted time.”

“I know.”

“But I really like her, okay? Like she’s so smart and she’s got this really dark sense of humour and she’s actually kind of terrifying sometimes—”

“Oh, the scary ones are always fun.”

They stay up talking through the night and, when the sun comes up, Pepper joins them with a tray of freshly made blueberry waffles. May arrives around the same time and, looking too tired to be mad, simply drops onto the bed with them and steals what’s left of his food.

—

Peter is on patrol when he hears it:

a soft, quiet yelping coming from somewhere down below the rooftop he’s perched on.

At first he figures he’s imagining things, but then his ears perk again. He leans over the building’s edge to find the source of the noise.

In the dark it’s hard to make anything out, so he climbs slowly down the side of the wall, squinting. There’s another yelp and a low whine, almost pained. Peter zeroes in on the sound and creeps toward a set of dumpsters; they’re so full of trash they’re overflowing, and it’s underneath a broken down cardboard box that he finds it...

A puppy.

Now, Peter is no liar. He’s wanted a dog since he was like, a fetus. The words ‘A dog’ have been on every birthday and Christmas list for as long as he can remember. It’s only recently, in the years since Ben’s death, that he’s pretty much given up—after all, May is so overworked and they can barely afford to feed themselves. How could they afford a pet?

But also…

This is the cutest dog he’s ever seen.

It’s tiny and fluffy and brown and has the biggest, saddest eyes he’s ever seen.

Peter kind of just stands there staring like an idiot for a good few seconds and then slowly kneels down. “Um, hi,” he says, in the gentlest voice he can manage. The puppy, who can’t be older than a few weeks and looks completely starved and exhausted, whines in response.

Peter holds out his hand for the dog to sniff. It lifts its head lazily and leans forward, nose twitching and dry. “You need water, huh? Come on, I know a place.”

—

“Shelob,” Tony greets without looking up from whatever project he’s working on. “What can I do for you at… one in the fucking morning?”

“I need your help with something, but you have to promise you won’t get mad or make me get rid of him—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, what have you done now?”

“He was just so helpless and cold and small and…” Peter swallows and reveals the puppy, presently wrapped up in his hoodie. “Meet Nugget.”

Tony’s face is the epitome of Disappointed Dad. He stares, open-mouthed, and after a second his shoulders fall. “Well, fuck.”

Peter snuggles Nugget against his chest and steps closer, but then Tony holds up a hand to stop him. “Nah-ah! Not until that thing gets a flea bath!”

Hope sparks in Peter’s chest. “You mean we can keep him?”

“I mean there’s no way I’m getting near him until I know I won’t break out in hives.”

“That’s not how fleas work.”

“Do I care? No. Come on, let’s go to the bathroom.”

—

“Why do you have flea shampoo?”

Peter’s inquiry is made tentatively. They both have their hands in the sud-filled sink as they systematically wash Nugget’s fur.

“There was… an incident a while ago. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Peter stares. Blinks. “Okay. Well, I think he’s clean.”

Nugget barks as if in agreement, and so Peter and Tony lift him out of the basin and set him on a pile of no doubt expensive, fluffy white towels. Tony takes the lead after that. He’s surprisingly gentle and patient with the yapping, impatient puppy—even when Nugget tries to claw at him and shake himself dry, Tony never loses his cool.

A few minutes later they’re sitting on their stomachs watching Nugget stomp around on a blanket. There’s water in a bowl for him at one corner and a plate of chopped up chicken at another.

“I can’t take him home,” Peter says morosely after a few minutes. “May won’t let me keep him.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Where does she even think you are right now?”

“...In my bed.”

“Wow,” Tony says, deadpan. “Okay, well, I most certainly can’t keep him either.”

“What?! Why not?!”

Tony sighs. “I’m Iron Man, if you hadn’t noticed, kiddo—”

“Oh, what, so you’re too tough to look after him?”

“No, I’m too busy. I spend like, twenty-three out of twenty-four hours in a day in my shop and the rest of the time I’m on my knees apologising to Pepper and begging for forgiveness. There’s no time in-between to feed the pup, walk the pup—”

“I could come by,” Peter blurts. “Like, once a day, and I could make sure he’s eaten and play with him and stuff. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger—”

“Except to press ‘purchase’ on my shopping cart full of dog food—”

“Tony,” Peter cuts in, pleading, “please? I can’t just drop him off at some kennel so they can—” he covers the dog’s ears, “so they can euthanize him in a week when no one buys him. He deserves so much better, you know?”

Tony frowns, considering it, and Peter waits with his breath caught in his throat until, “God, fine.”

“Yes!”

“But! But! A pet is a serious responsibility, okay? You might as well be adopting a child—”

“What would you know about raising kids?” Peter asks, only jokingly, but Tony just stares and then, for some reason, smiles.

“You have to make sure he’s happy,” Tony says. “You have to be there for him in whatever way he needs, alright? I’ll set up a pen in the penthouse and you can make sure he works off his energy there, and if I have time I’ll even take you both to the park. And if he ever happens to pee on my carpet, I’m counting on you to clean it up.”

“Don’t you have, like, housekeepers for that sort of thing?”

“Yeah, but this is character building stuff.”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll clean up the pee.”

They continue to iron out the details for a while and bicker over whether Nugget’s last name should be Parker or Stark, and it’s only when Pepper walks in—still in her pajamas, bleary eyed and complaining that they woke her up—that they both decide it should be ‘Potts’.

—

5. (+1)

It starts with a headache.

He’s bent over his desk studying for a Calc test when the throbbing begins. It’s not so bad at first, but after a half hour or so his vision is swimming and he keeps having to take breaks to massage his temples and close his eyes. The equations are all blending together and he can’t think straight anymore.

Peter decides to give up right around then. After all, if he’s not gonna retain any of the information, why bother?

May pokes and prods through dinner. Peter tries to fool her by acting like everything is normal and okay and even manages to make her laugh once or twice.

Inside, dread is coiling through his stomach like an irritated snake. He knows what’s coming next; after all, he doesn’t really get sick anymore, so what else could it be?

Peter tries to sleep but ends up tossing and turning for most of the night. He falls into some kind of half-conscious daze at around four in the morning and rouses about twenty minutes later, soaked with sweat and aching everywhere.

Feeling like he’s gonna vomit, Peter kicks off his blankets and strips the sheets off his bed. He takes his shirt off because the fabric is too abrasive against his skin and it’s like he can feel every fibre tickling against it, grating and chafing. He curls up into a tight ball and covers his ears with his hands to block out the now amplified sounds of the city: car alarms, dogs barking, music playing.

Normally Peter loves the way New York is never silent. Now, he just wishes everyone would shut the fuck up for once.

When he stumbles out of his room a little while later, May is already gone. She’d told him the night before that she had an early shift and for once he’s actually grateful. Haltingly, Peter gets ready for school. He’s already skipped three days this month and if he misses this Calc quiz he’s gonna fucking bomb the class.

May would kill him.

It’s better to suffer a little than die.

Brushing his teeth makes his head spin and the minute he wriggles into his clothes he feels like a caged animal about to claw his skin off. Everything takes so much longer than normal. He doesn’t eat because the mere thought of food makes the back of his throat sting with bile.

On the train, he closes his eyes and rests his head against the cool glass of the window, trying to tune out the constant screeching of the rails. One day, on God, he will make it a personal project to oil every fucking line in the subway.

At his fifth stop, an old lady boards and all the seats are taken.

Peter swallows thickly and stands. Black spots dance in his vision and he grabs onto the overhead bar—something he hasn’t actually needed to use since he was a little kid—and tries not to pass out.

He almost misses the stop to get to school, but slips out at the last second, millimetres away from getting his backpack caught in the doors. Peter is hot all over and lightheaded as he makes his way out of the station. It’s even hotter up above, what with summer coming now and all.

Peter is late and he doesn’t need his watch to tell; Flash’s car is already parked out front instead of zooming through the drop off to run him over (which, hey, silver lining), and the majority of the student body is already inside.

Peter has to stop multiple times on his way to Spanish just to breathe. By the time he gets there he’s at least ten minutes late for roll call.

“Mr. Parker,” his teacher greets, unimpressed. “So glad you could join us.”

Peter makes a noise and takes the proffered quiz. He wonders absently why some people choose to teach. What is it, like, some kind of power trip for them?

He has five minutes to finish the quiz but doesn’t make it past the first question. Ned volunteers to collect them and stops at Peter’s desk while Professor Scott outlines today’s lesson plan.

“Dude,” he whisper-hisses, “you look like complete shit. What on Earth are you doing here right now?”

“Test,” Peter mutters dully, resting his cheek on his hand and closing his eyes. “Here you go. Didn’t finish it.”

Ned takes it carefully, holding it with two fingers like it’s covered in disease. “Do you want me to get the nurse or something?”

Peter hums. “No. Just… headache.”

Slowly Ned backs away. “Um—”

“Mr. Leeds!” Professor Scott says, loudly. Ned jumps. “Is there a problem back there?”

Yes, Peter thinks. You’re the human version of nails on a fucking chalk board. Please, for the love of all that is holy, just start on the vocab.

Only he accidentally says all of that out loud.

The whole class is staring. Flash is slack-jawed. Betty Brant’s eyes are the size of small moons.

“Parker,” Scott grits out—and Peter has denominated him to just Scott now out of reciprocation and spite; “You just earned yourself a shiny new detention. I’d like you to take this slip to the principal’s office. Please.”

Oh, thank God. At least it’ll be quiet there.

Peter stands and brushes past Ned and it literally feels like flames of hell are licking against his skin. He almost vomits. This is decidedly not good.

He takes the paper. “Gladly, good sir.”

When he’s gone, there’s an outburst of muttering that his enhancements let him hear. It only makes the overload worse. Peter covers his ears with his hands again and, overcome with a sudden wave of vertigo, ducks into the bathroom.

He barely makes it to the toilet before emptying his stomach of last night’s food.

Peter sags against the wall, panting. He keeps his eyes closed and waits for the world to stop spinning. About ten minutes later, the smell of jasmine shampoo—normally welcome—causes him to lean over and retch again.

MJ pokes her head inside the unlocked stall. “Jesus,” she whispers. The second her hands touch his body he flinches and she immediately retracts them. “Fuck, sorry. Ned said you wigged out in Spanish. I looked for you in the Principal's office but you weren’t there and... What’s—what’s wrong? I thought you couldn’t even get sick.”

“Bad headache,” he mutters, spitting into the toilet. It’s easier than explaining about his freakish mutations and how they sometimes go completely haywire, leaving him on edge and nauseous and irritable.

MJ grabs him some toilet paper to wipe his mouth with. “Did you take anything?”

“Pain meds don’t work on me.”

“Does May know? You should have called in.”

“Couldn’t. Can’t miss my test.”

She sighs. “Your final is like fifty percent of your grade and you could pass it with your eyes closed. You can miss your test, you’re just afraid of getting anything lower than an A.”

Peter is silent. “You got me there.”

MJ’s hand twitches like she wants to touch him but knows she can’t. “You need to go home. Lie down, get some rest.”

“May is working,” Peter says, “and if I have to take the subway again right now I’ll die. I really will. It’s so—the smell and the noise and I can’t sit down and—”

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Just give it.”

She’s holding her hand out for it and giving him a no-nonsense expression that kind of reminds Peter of Pepper Potts on a rampage. He’s seen what happens to Tony when he crosses her, so he fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it over.

“Hold on.”

She stands and leaves. Peter closes his eyes again. He tunes out her conversation because if he doesn’t, he’s absolutely gonna vomit again and nobody wants that.

MJ slips back inside the stall. “Okay, solved. Do you still feel like you’re gonna vomit?”

Peter thinks about it. “No.”

“Good. We’re gonna go to the nurse, okay?”

“Oh boy.”

—

Tony Stark walks into Peter’s school and finds the hallways empty. The classroom doors are shut and the muted sounds of teachers lecturing are the only signs that anyone is here at all.

He finds Peter in the infirmary, sitting on the examination table with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes.

He’s at his side in an instant. “Kid?”

It’s surprise that gets Peter’s eyes open, but the little spider baby immediately regrets it. He flinches and sucks in a sharp breath. “Tony,” he whispers, like the name is all he can manage and the questions will have to wait for later.

Tony looks him over. There are no obvious injuries. The girl on the phone had said it was just a headache, but Tony is way more experienced with Peter’s brand of bullshit and knows there’s usually something else going on beneath the surface.

“I’m gonna go talk to the nurse and then get you out of here, okay?”

A nod.

It’s always a bad thing when he doesn’t argue. Peter Parker would start a fight about what kind of pizza to order, even if you suggest the kind he really wants, just to be a stubborn little shit about things.

Tony slips out of the exam room. The nurse looks up when he enters her office. “Oh my—Mr. Stark?!”

“Yes, hello,” Tony takes a cautious step forward as she stands. He doesn’t bother to sit. “I’m here to pick up the little gremlin in there.”

Her face flushes. “I didn’t know you’d been called, I—I figured I would just let him wait it out, you know? He didn’t want to be touched, so it was hard to figure out what was up and—so it’s real? About the internship?”

“Of course. Why would he lie?”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. “Well… you know how kids can be.”

“Do I?”

She doesn’t seem to know what to say to that.

Tony sighs. “Look, Nurse—uh, Timms—Nurse Timms, can I please just sign the kid out and take him home? He’s clearly in pain here.”

She starts rifling through her desk for a form. “I mean, I can admit you to take him home, but I really suggest you talk with the principal first—Peter was given a detention before he was brought to my ward, see, and I was—” she shakes her head. “I thought he might be faking.”

Tony stares without blinking for a whole five seconds and then, “Detention? For what?”

“I heard he bad-mouthed a teacher or something. But to be fair, Professor Scott isn’t exactly what I’d call patient.”

“Well, be that as it may,” Tony takes the form she hands him to sign, “my kid doesn’t fake. He has a condition, see. Gets uh… overloaded. Sounds, smells, it can be too much for him. Probably why he snapped.”

“That… that makes sense.”

“Yes,” he says succinctly, and hands the paper back. “You’d know that if you bothered to ask. Anyway, I’ll be going. Thanks for the help, Nurse Times.”

“Uh, it’s—it’s Timms—”

The door shuts behind him.

—

MJ was forced to go back to class. She’d argued and protested but Nurse Timms was insistent. So, MJ had relented. She’d pressed the lightest of kisses on his forehead and it surprisingly hadn’t felt that bad, and then she’d gone.

Tony Stark had shown up about twenty minutes later and it’s just when Peter’s starting to think it was all just a vivid hallucination that the smell of coffee and motor oil fills his senses again. It’s overwhelming but not debilitating.

“Kiddo,” Tony whispers, “is it okay to touch you?”

Peter cracks an eye. Everything is bright but Tony’s suit is mercifully black, so he focuses on that. “I don’t know. I don’t wanna move.”

“Well I gotta get you outta here somehow.”

“But my detention—”

“I already got you out of it,” Tony says breezily. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Tony,” Peter says, cheeks flushing. “You can’t just bribe my principal into—”

“I didn’t bribe anyone. I just explained the situation and besides, Morita’s an old friend.”

Peter closes his eyes again as he frowns. “You’re friends with my principal?”

“I’m a benefactor for your school, too,” Tony says. “But don’t tell anyone, it’s a secret.”

Something shifts in the air. Tony is sitting now. “Happy’s waiting outside,” he says, ��but whenever you’re ready.”

Peter thinks about it for a few seconds and decides it’s gonna have to happen at some point, anyway. Might as well rip the band-aid off now. Slowly he takes a deep breath and manages to sit up with Tony’s help. The older man tries to avoid touching him as much as possible, but surprisingly enough the weight of his hand against Peter’s spine isn’t crushing or aggravating. It doesn’t hurt.

“Baby steps,” Tony says softly. “We’ll take you out the side door, okay?”

Even getting to the door is slow going but Tony doesn’t seem to mind. Right before they open it, Tony stops and pulls his sunglasses off. “Here, try these.”

Peter puts them on. He feels ridiculous because like, they work on Tony who was literally born in the seventies, but Peter really doesn’t dig the groovy shades. Regardless they’re better than nothing and even help a little.

The halls are empty again. Most of the students will be in the gym right about now, or the cafeteria for lunch. They don’t run into anybody on the way out and as soon as they’re in the back of the car, Peter sags against Tony’s side. He feels like he’s just run ten miles.

“Drive, Hogan,” Tony says, and then the partition glides up.

For a few seconds it’s almost completely quiet. Noise suppression tech, Peter realises, and he feels like he could cry from relief. For the first time in hours there’s just… nothing. No traffic, no dozens of students talking at once. The air conditioning unit is filtered, so he’s not being attacked with the smell of body odour and clashing perfume scents and Axe cologne. There’s just Tony and beautiful, amazing, showstopping silence.

Tony shifts a little. “Better?”

Peter nods, figuring it’s still probably not safe to speak.

“We’ll be there soon,” Tony says softly.

—

Peter doesn’t remember much after the car ride. He can vaguely recall protesting getting out of the Audi, and he remembers Tony assuring him that everything would be okay, and the next thing he knows he’s lying on his back in an utterly dark bedroom. The walls are insulated just like the car had been, so there’s just no sound, and the bed sheets probably have the highest thread count of all time.

Something shifts beside Peter and he realises Tony is there, feeling his forehead.

“What—?”

“Oh, hey,” Tony greets. “I think you might’ve blacked out there. All the noise hit you at once when we got out of the car and you just…”

“I fainted?”

Tony snorts softly. “Relax. It happens to the best of us. How do you feel, Webster?”

Peter hums. “Bad.”

“Let’s try a scale of one to ten.”

“Okay,” Peter says. “Ten.” Tony lets out a little grunt at that and so Peter elaborates, “It was at like, a twenty this morning, so.”

“Ah, I see.” Tony’s grip shifts to Peter’s wrist to measure his pulse. “This okay?”

“It’s fine.”

And it really is. He doesn’t feel like burning his skin off or anything. Tony’s hands are just warm.

“Any idea what brought this on?”

Peter shifts a little. “I uh… haven’t been sleeping a lot lately.” He swallows. “Like, at all.”

“And how long’s that been going on for?”

“I don’t know. On and off for a few weeks, I guess.”

“Jesus,” Tony sighs and pulls his hand away. He rakes it through his hair. “Kiddo, what have we said about communication? Does May know?”

“....No?”

There’s a long pause where Tony just kind of sits there thinking, like he wants to say whatever comes next carefully. He massages his temples and then: “Alright, scooch over.”

“What?”

“Make room for me.”

Peter blinks and then, tentatively, scoots over a little to allow Tony room to lie down. The older man does, arching his back a little and grunting in pain because he’s like, ancient. They’re not touching, but very slowly Peter starts inching closer again. Eventually he works up the courage to try resting his head on Tony’s chest, which is terrifying not only because it’s Tony Stark, but also because he’d rather not have his brain implode.

Nothing happens. “Your fabric softener must be like, super expensive,” he whispers, because this is actually better than the sheets.

Tony snorts. “I’ll ask Pep about it.”

Peter makes a noncommittal noise and before he knows it, his eyes are closing. For once they actually feel heavy, and the steady rhythm of Tony’s heart beat is soothing, dependable.

Tony’s hands brush lightly over Peter’s hair and then thread through it. “Too much?”

“No,” Peter promises. “Good.”

And so Tony’s fingers run through his curls over and over, gently, lightly. His thumb sweeps over Peter’s cheek once, too, and then he starts muttering in Italian.

Peter cracks an eye. “Are you telling me your grocery shopping list?”

Tony laughs a little. “My mom used to do it for me,” he says. “Something about just hearing her speak the language made me feel… relaxed, I guess. Didn’t matter what she was saying.”

Peter smiles and wraps an arm around Tony’s torso. “Tell me something else.”

“You wanna hear about the time I almost blew up a Chem lab?”

“Uh, duh.”

So Tony launches into it, speaking in a low voice and absently twisting one of Peter’s curls around his finger. It feels nice and the headache is fading fast.

Peter sleeps.

#marvel #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #my writing #friendly neighborhood fic exchange #may parker #pepper potts #michelle jones #spideychelle #pepperony #nugget the dog #insomnia

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oveliagirlhaditright · 3 years ago

Text

Together

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33196183

Kairi creeps into the Hall of the Cornerstone and ends up seeing a memory of Minnie's--and perhaps gets more than she bargained for, as her own emotions and regrets come to the surface--and with it a friendship that will carry her through any trial.

For @mademoiseli Happy late birthday, sweetie!

Kairi sat down on the steps that led out of the Hall of the Cornerstone, wondering if she should go down there or not

She wanted to be a bad girl for once—as a sort of fun, perhaps, as her world had so recently fallen down—and go there against her better judgement … and some of the other Guardians of Lights’ judgement as well, if she was being honest.

Because now that they all knew that strong lights could be used to house darknesses without being corrupted—and strong lights and darknesses might call to each other like moths to a flame—there was even the chance, that a strong light like the Cornerstone of Light could resonate with Kairi too strongly. What if it tried to pull her into it, or she pulled it into herself?

These were the reasons that the Guardians had thought it a good idea that Kairi stay away from the light that kept Disney Castle safe from harm.

…But curiosity had killed the cat, and Kairi found that was very much her case when she found herself wandering down into the basement, anyway, just to get a look.

Though what ended up drawing her attention was not the Cornerstone of Light. Rather, it was this almost liquid—thought not quite—with wisps going into it, on a nearby table that had recently been erected, if its drying silver paint was anything to go by.

Kairi grew closer to it, peering into the water, where she curiously saw what looked like Lady Daisy, Huey, Dewey, Louie, Chip, Dale, someone who looked as though they were related to Goofy, and Aqua watching as Queen Minnie gave Pete an earful!

Kairi had no idea how this scene was playing out before her, without sound, but she definitely wanted to find out! So, she walked even closer to it, but ended up tripping, with her face falling face first into the water… and there, she could see this memory—perhaps that’s what it was—in all its glory.

“…Pete, we counted the votes very carefully. Ventus, Aqua, and Terra won. Oh, Pete. I think you tried to do something good, but you were doing it for the wrong reasons, and you went about it the wrong way. Still, a couple of citizens must have thought you had goodness in you, because you actually got a few votes. They knew you were looking out for them.”

Kairi didn’t know what was going on exactly, but maybe she could make some guesses based off of the Queen’s words? But Pete seemed to be boiling with anger, as he often was, and Queen Minnie seemed to be very sweet in dealing with him now and trying to reassure him that the people still cared about him, Kairi saw.

And though this was surely a memory of the past, the Princess of Heart almost wanted to believe that the other light wielder could get through to him. And that maybe things could be different for them all, going forward, if she could…

But then it all took a turn for the worst, as Pete turned towards Queen Minnie angrily.

“Big whoop! I don’t need their lousy votes! Just cough up my prize!”

And then he extended a hand towards Queen Minnie. And Kairi didn’t know if he’d meant to harm her or steal the prize, but she felt her heart go out for the small queen all the same, and her plight here.

And Kairi wanted to believe she would have had such strength and heart in the situation, without her own king.

“Pete!” Queen Minnie exclaimed. “They voted for you because they believe in you and care about you. How could you look down on that? I’ve tried to forgive a lot of things you’ve done, but this is too much. Now you’ve finally crossed the line.”

“Like that matters to me,” Pete shot back rather expertly, not seeming to care how he’d hurt Queen Minnie in the slightest with his line. And it pained Kairi to see.” Besides, what are you going to do about it?” he challenged.

“Ha! I’m gonna let you cool off for a while. Guards!” And at that point, some of the magic brooms showed up and carried Pete off, while Queen Minnie frowned at him, heartbroken, the whole time.

Kairi wondered if this was when he was banished to another dimension—another world—for all he’d done, like Sora had told her about before. She wouldn’t have been surprised.

And with that last sad image of the Queen being the last thing Kairi saw, the memory must have been over, and Kairi was pulled out of it, gasping. And she was surprised to see none other than Queen Minnie herself was watching her now!

“Quite an ordeal, wasn’t it young Kairi?” she asked. And somehow, she seemed to look at Kairi with sadness for Pete, she guessed. But not for Kairi. And no disappointment, either. It was as if she was okay with Kairi spying on her memories. Even though she’d had no right to do it at all.

“Your majesty,” Kairi stammered, dropping to a bow right away, and trying to find her graces, and the girl who might have once belittled Sora and Riku for getting into a situation, because her past self never would have… how sad it was that her present self would. “I’m so, so sorry. I had no right at all to do any of this. Especially since you’re being so kind as to let us look all over your world for Sora right now… I’ll go now.”

Queen Minnie laughed. And it was a pretty sound… and an encouraging one, that had Kairi stopping from going back up the steps that led to the audience chamber, and rather turn around to face the woman. “I acted quite like the Queen there… but part of me regrets it, you know? Because surely Pete had done worse things than that. Why was it him not appreciating people believing in him, that was the final straw for me? Was it that I was just too angry that day?”

“I think my subconscious mind, though not my conscious one, partly wondered about that when I saw your memory just now, too,” Kairi admitted, offering Queen Minnie a small smile, in seeing that they thought very much the same.

“N-not that you were too angry!”, she quickly explained, realizing her words could be misconstrued. “But what it was about that day in particular… And sometimes I wonder about my own anger. Like why I was so livid at Organization XIII. Maybe if I hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have been part of the Keyblade War and Sora would still be here…”

And God help her, Kairi was crying now. Something she definitely didn’t want to do in front of this Queen at all.

But Queen Minnie was merciful and kind, and motioned for Kairi to lean down, so she could wipe her tear away. “You mustn’t blame yourself for that, Kairi, dear. As I understand it, if you hadn’t been there, Sora would have died, and that awful prophecy about light expiring would have come true. So, it was a good thing you were there!

“And goodness me, you don’t have to be so formal with me. I’d like to think we’re all friends here. Call me Minnie!

“But it- it’s hard, isn’t it? I think we who strive closer to the light, often doubt ourselves when we get away from it. But I think those reasons happen for a reason, too. Like with Pete: when you can’t see the goodness of people recognizing you, I feel you can no longer see anything. And you can too easily become caught in the darkness then… and I think that’s why I did what I did with Pete … Do you understand, Kairi?”

“Yes, I think I do!” Kairi beamed, pulling the mouse Queen into a hug. And she didn’t know if this was right or dignified or whatever, but since Queen Minnie said that they could be friends, she decided to just go for it.

And when Queen Minnie hugged her back like it was the simplest thing in the world—magic and healing seeming to fill up Kairi’s heart as she did—she wondered if this was the start of something here.

“Thank you so much for comforting me today… Minnie. I don’t know what I would have done without you. And thank you for not caring that I accidentally spied on your memory!”

The two women started out of the audience chamber now, and would begin a journey through the hall and back to the library, much like the one Queen Minnie had taken with Sora before—feeding off each other’s light as they did so—and it would end up being a key to them finding Sora.

Queen Minnie held Kairi’s hand in hers, like Donald and Goofy had Sora’s multiple times, and Mickey had Riku’s, that many times, as well. “Hehe. Of course, my dear. And know that we’ll find Sora together.”

“Together.”

Author’s Note: Yes, it was a pensieve Kairi used. And my explanation for one being here, is that Disney apparently almost made the first Harry Potter movie. This is mentioned in the “A Conversation Between Daniel Radcliffe and J.K. Rowling” video on the Deathly Hallows DVD.

Written for you, Mademoiseli! I hope you enjoyed!

#kh #kingdom hearts #fanfiction #kairi #queen minnie #kairi and queen minnie #sokai #background mickey and minnie #Mademoiseli #gift fic #oneshot #canon #canon compliant #mine #my work #Shanna writes

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jfpisadearqueerdeer · 4 years ago

Text

Ribs

Almost twenty-five years of Sirius and Remus sharing a bed.

Content Warnings: Abuse, self-harm, underage alcohol consumption, major character death, sex, and suicidal thoughts. Brief descriptions of insomnia, eating disorders, and depression.

DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THESE THINGS MIGHT TRIGGER YOU

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

“You're the only friend I need,

sharing beds like little kids,

laughing 'til our ribs get tough,

but that will never be enough.”

The first time Sirius and Remus shared a bed, it was November of their first year, about two weeks after Sirius’s birthday, and well, it wasn’t actually a bed. They had been up half the night with their friends in the common room, and were too exhausted (read: lazy) to go up to their dorm and decided to sleep on one of the couches.

“Hey, Remy,” Sirius said from his side of the couch when he realized that they were the last ones awake.

“Yeah,” Remus replied, yawning.

“Don’t tell James but I think you’re my best friend,” Sirius whispered. He nudged the other boy softly with his foot.

“I know that you’re my best friend, Si.”

Sirius smiled and said, “Night Remy.”

“Goodnight Si.”

They woke up the next morning with their legs tangled together and both blushed deeply.

They didn’t talk about it.

The first time that Sirius and Remus shared a bed after Remus told them that he was a werewolf, it was a couple of days before the full moon, and the early effects of the full moon were making Remus irritable.

“Are you okay, Remy?”

“No,” Remus said angrily, “I’m not.” He turned to Sirius forcefully, and barely noticed as the other boy took a step back. “I’m not fucking okay. I’m so hot that I feel like I’m fucking suffocating, I’ve scratched my skin raw, and I can’t fucking sleep. It’s not good enough that I turn into a monster every month, I have to deal with side effects.”

Sirius was trembling by the end of Remus’s speech, but he still took a step forward, taking the other boy’s hand. “I have some itching salve and well, I’m always cold, so I’m sure I could cool you down if we, ya know,” he trailed off.

“Are you suggesting we cuddle, Sirius,” Remus asked.

Sirius nodded. “And if you still can’t sleep, we can just talk all night.” I just want to help you.

“Okay,” Remus said. He nodded. “Are you sure, though?”

“I’ll go get the itching salve.”

The first time Sirius and Remus shared a bed in their second year, Remus asked him a question.

“Do your parents hit you?”

Sirius looked terrified when Remus asked him that. He tried to cover himself up, tried to hide, which told Remus everything. “They do, don’t they?”

Sirius looked so ashamed when he nodded in the affirmative. “I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Can I see,” Remus asked, feeling really weird about it. “I just want to know how bad it is.”

Sirius hesitated for a moment, but lifted up his shirt, and Remus immediately saw scars and bruises lining the other boy’s hips and ribs, and as Sirius kept lifting his shirt, he followed the marks all the way up to the boy’s collarbone.

Tears sprung his eyes. “Merlin,” he breathed.

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

Remus ignored what Sirius said and whispered, “I should go get the bruise salve from the bathroom. It will help clear some of this up. Hopefully.”

A few minutes later, they were sitting on Sirius’s bed, and Remus was rubbing the salve into the bruises all over his friend’s torso. He tried not to react at how bad the injuries were, but let out a small gasp when he saw the thin scars lining Sirius’s wrist. But he didn’t say anything.

His friend needed help and he didn’t want to have to make any promises that he couldn’t keep.

The first time that Remus and Sirius shared a bed after Sirius and Marlene got together, Sirius said, “I don’t think I love her. But I think I could.”

And Remus didn’t understand.

“If you don’t love her, shouldn’t you break up with her,” he asked. He didn’t like Sirius being with Marlene, and he definitely didn’t like it if Sirius wasn’t happy.

“I don’t think she loves me either. But the relationship makes sense,” Sirius said, biting his lip.

“I don’t think it makes sense,” Remus replied.

“Well, who do you think I should be with,” Sirius asked.

A few images of him and Sirius tangled together in each of their beds flashed through Remus’s mind, but he shook his head. It was a stupid idea. They couldn’t be together.

“I don’t know. I think we’re too young to be in love.”

Sirius shook his head, and they stopped talking about it.

The first time Sirius and Remus shared a bed after Sirius realized that he liked Remus, they didn’t talk much.

It was after James, Peter, and Kingsley had gone to bed, and Sirius just slipped into bed beside Remus, who was reading an old muggle novel by wand light.

“You okay,” Remus asked him, worried.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied. “Figured you wouldn’t mind if I slept with you tonight. I always fall asleep easier when I’m with you.” He snuggled more into the bed.

“Of course you can,” Remus said, setting down his book and wand. He laid his head down next to Sirius’s. “I couldn’t sleep either.” He moved closer to Sirius before closing his eyes and falling asleep.

“I love you, Remy. I wish I could tell you that.”

The first time that Sirius and Remus shared a bed at James’ house, Remus cried so hard that it was difficult to breathe.

“I wish you didn’t have to go back. I wish I could just steal you away and we could run away and you would never have to go back there again,” he said, still crying.

“You know I have to go back. To check on Reggie.”

“I know. I’m still worried though,” Remus replied.

“I’ll be okay. I always am.”

They both knew he was lying.

The first time that Sirius and Remus shared a bed while they were drunk, they sloppily made out.

“This doesn’t have to mean anything,” Sirius said, his lips just a couple of millimeters away from Remus’. “It’s just kissing.” And he pulled the other boy to him.

Remus pulled away from the kiss, and said, “Yep. Just a little bit of snogging between friends. No big deal. No more talking though. Just kissing.”

Sirius’ eyes shot up, and he nodded excitedly. He began kissing Remus again, parting his lips happily when Remus swiped his tongue across his lips. He tasted like the vodka that Marlene had snuck from home.

The next morning, neither of them said anything about what had happened. After all, it wasn’t a big deal.

The first time Sirius and Remus shared a bed after Sirius became an animagus, Remus thanked Sirius over and over.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” Remus said. “Thank you so much for doing this for me.”

Sirius laughed and said, “It was no big deal. I was just doing something that would help my friend.”

“It was more than that,” Remus said, glancing at Sirius’s lips quickly before looking into his eyes.

They almost kissed.

They didn’t kiss.

The first time Sirius and Remus shared a bed after they got together, they had both been crying.

“I missed you so much,” Sirius whispered, “I never should have done what I did. I’m so sorry.”

“I already forgave you, Si,” Remus said. “Now let me take a look at you. I know you haven’t been taking care of yourself.” He took a deep breath to prepare himself.

Sirius lifted his shirt and took it off swiftly, exposing the fact that his ribs were basically poking out of his skin and the long row of scars lining his arms. Remus choked over a sob, trying not to cry. He pulled Sirius close to him, and whispered, “You can’t keep doing this.”

“I know,” Sirius said. “I know I have a problem. But every time that something bad happens, it’s like I’m reliving everything bad that has ever happened to me over and over. And I feel like I’ll never be happy again.”

Remus kissed Sirius’ cheek and said, “It’ll be okay, Si. I promise. I’ll help you do whatever it takes to make sure you’ll be okay. But… you need to talk to somebody. Who isn’t me. McGonagall or whoever.”

“Okay,” Sirius said. “Kiss me again?”

Remus kissed him again.

The first time Sirius and Remus shared a bed after Regulus disappeared, Remus had carried him to bed all the way from the astronomy tower.

Sirius had almost jumped before Remus had found him. Remus couldn’t believe how close he had been to losing him.

He looked at Sirius, lying beside him and wished that life wasn’t so complicated. He wished he could just be young and in love with his boyfriend. He cried.

But when Sirius moved closer to Remus in his sleep, Remus had hope. Hope that everything would be okay.

And he fell asleep, his arms around Sirius.

The first time that Sirius and Remus shared a bed at Remus’s house, Sirius kissed Remus all over.

“Si,” Remus begged, “my parents are in the house.” Sirius smirked into the dip of Remus’ hip.

“You better be quiet then, Remy,” Sirius said, as innocently as he could with the majority of his clothes gone.

“I swear to Merlin, you don’t even like hooking up when James and Pete are in the dorm, but you’ll do this,” Remus said, moaning a little bit as Sirius kissed the inside of his thigh. Sirius glanced up at him, chuckling a bit.

“What can I say? Seeing you drive today was so hot,” Sirius said, shrugging. “And you didn’t seem to mind when I was stripping you bare a couple of minutes ago.”

“Trust me, I want this just as much as you do, Si. But I don’t want my mom hearing us have sex,” Remus said, clenching his teeth.

“Easy fix,” Sirius said, pulling out his wand and casting a silencing charm around the room. “Now you can scream out my name as loud as you want.”

The first time that Sirius and Remus shared a bed after getting their own apartment, they talked all night.

“I don’t feel that different, even though everything has changed,’ Sirius said, looking towards Remus.

“I get what you mean. We’ve graduated, we’re 18, we live together, but sometimes I feel like I’m that 11-year-old kid who was so nervous that he stuttered the first time he spoke to the boy that would become his boyfriend,” Remus said.

They laughed as they remembered that.

“I don’t know. I kind of wish we were still that young. Wish we could just be kids. I feel like we never got to just be kids, no worries in the world,” Sirius said.

“That was never going to happen.”

They shared a bed together hundreds of times after that, sometimes laughing, sometimes talking, sometimes completely silent. But most they cried.

War took everyone. Everything.

And eventually, it took them.

The first time Sirius and Remus shared a bed after Sirius escaped Azkaban, Remus mapped out Sirius’s body with his hands. He cried looking at all the scars. He thought of when they were young when his thumb grazed over Sirius’s most sensitive spots, the spots he used to kiss over and over.

“You should have come to me as soon as you broke out. I would have believed you,” Remus said, crying.

“I didn’t know that, Remy,” Sirius said.

“How could you ever think that I wouldn’t believe you,” he asked desperately, not understanding.

“I lost all hope in there,” Sirius said. “The hope that you would ever believe me was the first to go.”

The last time Sirius and Remus shared a bed together, they were in Grimmauld Place. They had just woken up, tangled up with each other, and Sirius had a bad feeling.

“Remy. If I don’t make it out of all of this alive…”

“Don’t say that,” Remus begged.

“I need to. If I don’t make it out alive,” Sirius continued, “Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll never love anyone as much as love me,” Sirius said, tears streaming down his face.

“I promise,” Remus said, kissing Sirius.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Sirius died later that same day.

The first time Remus went to bed alone after Sirius died, he felt empty. The bed felt empty, yes, but mostly, he felt empty. He felt like a huge hole had been carved into his chest. He wanted to die. Instead, he went to sleep.

And all of his dreams went back to the words they had exchanged just hours before it happened.

#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #tw: abuse #tw: self-harm #tw: major character death #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: insomnia #tw: ed #tw: depression

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baloobird · 5 years ago

Text

Because I Said So

by @baloobird for @searching4sanity716 I hope you like this!!! 💜💜💜

This is my submission to the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange!!!

Ao3 Link (but it’s not revealed yet)

Words: 10.1k (hehe whoops)

Rating: Not Rated

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & May Parker, May Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker

**Slight Trigger Warning: mention of an eating disorder accusation but there’s no actual eating disorder. Attempted kidnapping while on patrol but it’s stopped before it goes anywhere**

Summary: He should be used to it by now, this almost constant state of hunger, and he knows he should say something to May.

But he can’t.

When his aunt found out about Spider-Man, she - understandably so - wanted to know any and all things about this double life: his powers, how they work, how they affect him, and the like.

So Peter told her everything…except for one small, teeny tiny detail.

That he now has a faster metabolism than everyone else.

Peter doesn't tell May that he has to eat more than the average person because he knows how tight money is for them. He knows his aunt can't afford it so why say anything? And besides, he's fine.

Honestly.

No way is this going to come back and bite him in ass…absolutely not.

Adding my taglist here but the fic will be under the cut. I hope you enjoy!!!

Taglist: @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @dexteritymisdirectionsuggestion @peuty @starkaroos2034 @marvel-us-world @podcastsandcoffee @bestofirondadfics @mmmmmmmmmchicken @riseuplikeglitterandgold @desirexwolf @theoceanphoenixhasrisen @ultravioletstark @just-the-daydreamer @my-leg-is-not-a-chew-toy @diminajackson @theofficialdeannawinchester @whatwasmyprevioususername @spidey-mood @autisticbabynurse @ironmanismydad @tinyandsteven @dreamingformuses @smokesteamair @intuitive-mathgeek @softrdj @legendarypenofeating @petermyspiderson @zselenophile @shymothstudios @and-so-my-adventures-begin @sarcasticmusic @fandomsofrandom @cluusheen @mjc-dream @emygirl @pxterbpxrker @pawprinterfanfic @innocent-until-proven-geeky @blackwatchandromeda @jaelyn-karrett @iron-damn @unnoted-invisible @pixeltrix-13 @anyonewantathroatsweet @m0ther-of-dragons @chaos-with-a-pen @spideynamu @bthtallmadge2 @verdonafrost @the-reverse-mermaid @icymapletree @kitkatwinchester @irondad-is-cannon-bitch @brushes-of-sage @ghostinthebau @canonismybitch @tmifangirl24 @loverofstuffsworld @stuck-in-a-fictional-universe @i-write-disney-not-tragedies @drowned-in-books @peanutdoodles @hauntedbybleachella @aelinasardothien @tonystark-built-this-in-a-cave @tonystarkweneedyou @spideygirl2003 @7peternotparker7 @justme--emily @dongjiayun @dykeragee @jmercer1997 @swagfictionreadingnerd @dredfulhapiness @fallenstar07

Let me know if you wanna be tagged!!!

Peter has been staring at that damn clock for about thirty minutes now.

But only one minute has actually passed.

Why do the last ten minutes of class always feel like another fucking hour?

Despite time moving as slow as molasses, the teenager keeps staring at the clock, seeing his life tick away closer and closer to death.

Hey, it’s a hell of a lot more interesting than learning about the Industrial Revolution.

Whoever decided to make AP History the last class of the day deserves to be shot like Abraham Lincoln.

Ten more minutes until Mr. Stark. Ten more minutes until I can finally freaking eat.

As if reading his mind, the boy’s stomach releases yet another growl, so loud that a few of the surrounding students give him weird looks, making him flush in embarrassment.

The hero smiles sheepishly as he wraps his arms around his torso, hoping to suppress any more incoming rumbles.

God, he is so fucking hungry, as he has been for the last couple of hours.

He should be used to it by now, this almost constant state of hunger, and he knows he should say something to May.

But he can’t.

When his aunt found out about Spider-Man, she - understandably so - wanted to know any and all things about this double life: his powers, how they work, how they affect him, and the like.

So Peter told her everything…except for one small, teeny tiny detail.

That he now has a faster metabolism than everyone else. With the powers of his super strength, stickiness, and “spidey sense”, it’s no wonder he developed an increase in his appetite as well.

Of course he wants to tell May, he desperately wants to tell her to buy more food, to make enough dinner to feed four instead of two.

But he’d be an idiot not to notice how tight money is for them. Peter doesn’t miss the bills with the dreaded red stamp that states “past due”, or the student loan payments that she is at least a couple of months behind on.

“You, food, and shelter are always my first priorities, you know that,” May has said on more than a few occasions.

While yes, she always has enough for rent, food, and their phones, the kid would be lying if he said that their water and power have never been shut off. And he can’t count how many months they’ve had to go without wi-fi.

Thank God libraries exist or he’d never get any homework done.

So the teen does what he can to keep from going completely insane from lack of food consumption: since he’s a part of that free lunch program, he thankfully always has a lunch - even though it’s not enough to leave him satisfied - and Ned, the wonderful, amazing best friend that is Ned always packs an extra apple or another sandwich to give him so he won’t feel like he’s completely passing out by the time history class rolls around.

But even then he can hardly stand it.

Peter keeps his arms wrapped around him, watching the clock at the front of the classroom like a hawk.

Watching the last seven minutes tick by at the slowest possible speed.

The genius feels his head start to droop with fatigue and jerks it upright, keeping it from slamming completely onto his desk. He winces as he feels his stomach release another round of grumbling and squeezes it to keep it quiet, even though it won’t do him any good.

He ignores the more questioning looks from his peers but he doesn’t miss the sympathetic one his best friend is giving him from the next desk over.

Peter looks away almost immediately. He already feels embarrassed enough for his obnoxious stomach, he can’t stand someone looking as if he’s a charity case.

Which is exactly why he hasn’t told Tony about this either.

He jerks his head up yet again after feeling it droop for a second time and stares at the clock once more.

Five minutes, just five more minutes, Spider-Man.

The teenager misses his masked alter ego. He hasn’t been able to don the red and blue as much lately for a number of reasons such as homework and decathlon.

The most annoying one being that he can’t patrol but for so long without Karen taking notice of his decreasing glucose levels which she would then send to Tony and the last thing he wants is for his billionaire hero to find out about his money troubles.

Peter takes a deep breath, constantly reminding himself to keep his eyes open, damn it, he refuses to fall asleep four minutes before the last bell.

He’ll sleep after he eats all of his hero’s food.

Because when he stays with Tony, he pigs out, eating enough food to feed a “whole army” his mentor has jokingly said.

And since Peter is planning to stay the night, he relishes in going back home that Saturday with a more than satisfied stomach.

Well, for a few hours anyway, until he gets to what his current situation is now.

The boy looks back at the clock.

Two minutes left, hell fucking yes.

God, he needs carbs if he has any hope of staying awake on his way to the tower.

He just needs food in general.

Any food…allllll the food.

The bell rings at long last, leaving Peter wishing he could race out the doors but he’s too sluggish to exert that much energy. Again, he ignores his friend’s pitying looks as he gets his things before walking as fast as he can to his father figure’s car.

The second he gets in and gives his mentor a tired smile, the volcano that is his stomach erupts in yet another growl, announcing the hunger it so desperately craves.

Tony giggles as he makes his way to exit the parking lot, “Somebody’s hungry, huh?”

You have no idea.

His protege sheepishly giggles himself, wrapping his arms around his stomach once again, “Uh yeah, sorry.”

“Only you would say sorry about being hungry,” the mechanic says with a snort, “McDonald’s drive-thru sound good to you?”

“Please, I can taste the Big Mac already.”

“How many do you want?”

“Uh,” Peter holds back as slight anxiety sets in, “Two?”

As they stop at a red light, his mentor gives him a deadpan look, obviously not believing him, and repeats, “Pete, how many do you want?”

“Four?” Said kid answers in a questioning tone, covering himself in case Tony thinks the number is too high. He then adds on, “All with fries? Please?”

Tony smiles down at his kid, ruffling his hair while keeping one hand on the steering wheel, “How many times have I told you that you don’t need to be shy around me when it comes to eating?”

“I know,” his interns says, slumping his shoulders but taking full advantage of this “curls massage” to keep his mind off his hunger, “I just feel bad -”

“Don’t,” the older man says, firm but keeping a gentle undertone, “If you’re hungry, you’re getting food, that’s the rule when you’re around me. It doesn’t matter if you want to eat the entire damn cow, you’re getting it.”

Peter feels a warmth filter through him at that, leaning closer to his father figure and smiling serenely at the hair ruffling, squeezing his stomach as it continues to gurgle periodically.

Tony lets go when the light turns green, his attention back on the road, “Didya even eat today, good Lord, kid.”

Barely.

“Yes,” the tyke responds, drawing out the syllable, “If I didn’t, you’d have to carry me to the tower.”

“That’s a terrifying image.”

“Relax, Mr. Stark, I’m more careful than that,” Peter responds with a cheeky smile.

It’s true, he thinks. Despite the constant hunger, he’s always been careful, never letting it get to the point of him not functioning as a human being should.

Yes, he’s hungry all the time, but not that hungry.

It’s fine.

It’s fiiiiiiine.

“You lost me at ‘careful’, does the word ‘Vulture’ mean anything to you?”

“Hey, I stopped him, didn’t I?”

Tony rolls his eyes with a defeated sigh, “Yeah, touché.”

Peter snickers in brief victory as they pull up to the drive-thru ordering station, “Hey, I may be clumsy but I’m still careful.”

“Jury’s still out on that one,” his mentor responds with his own snicker before lowering his window, turning towards the microphone. After the usual polite greetings, he says his order, making sure to order for himself as well, “Five Big Macs, five large fries, a Diet Coke, Dr. Pepper, and a side salad.”

“Ranch dressing okay?” The fast-food employee asks as Peter gives his father figure a look of pure confusion.

“Yeah, sure.”

“We’ll have your total for you at the first window.”

“Thanks,” Tony says, driving around the curve to the upcoming window.

Peter asks, “You got a salad? At McDonald’s?”

“No, I got it for you, you really think I’m gonna let you eat four Big Macs and no greens?”

“There’s lettuce on the burgers -”

“Nice try.”

“Jeez, ‘Helicopter Mom’, much?”

“You’ll thank me later when your stomach doesn’t hate you.”

For once.

Peter rolls his eyes as his stomach continues acting like a bear, looking on as his hero gives the cashier his credit card.

Eh, it’s more food, I’ll take it.

The second the boy takes his first bite of that heavenly, artery-filling burger, it takes all of his strength not to guzzle it down in five bites or less. He’s unfortunately learned from experience that not eating much for a week and then consuming enough food in one sitting to feed his entire apartment building equates to seeing all of that food again in a not so appetizing manner.

So by the time they get to the tower, only one burger is consumed and about half of an order of fries, yet the spiderling’s stomach is still growling. They settle in at the kitchen counter, with Tony digging into his own burger and fries, making light chatter with Peter unashamedly talking with his mouth full.

That Friday night and Saturday morning are spent in bliss, in more ways than one. The two heroes did their usual thing in the lab, Tony helped his kid with some of his homework, kicked back on the couch, and the tyke’s stomach was never not satisfied.

If only he could feel this way all the time.

The older man actually made dinner that night and told Peter he can take home the leftovers for him and May.

The teen’s heart did what felt like an actual backflip. He gratefully accepted the leftovers with absolute no intentions on sharing it with his aunt, instead his mind going into “math-mode” on how he can ration this throughout the week.

And when Happy drops him off that Saturday afternoon, he’s filled with the most energy he’s had since the previous time with his mentor, damn near skipping to his room in excitement to put on his suit and soar through the skies.

Until he sees May in the kitchen sporting a look of grim disappointment, and his whole demeanor falls immediately.

What happened? I haven’t done anything lately…at least I don’t think I have.

Hold up, did somebody die?

“Um,” Peter starts, gripping the straps on his backpack and praying his aunt can’t smell the leftover pot roast, “May, is everything okay?”

The nurse sighs despairingly, doing nothing to help her nephew’s case, “No,” she taps the barstool next to her, swinging it out, “We need to talk.”

The teenager’s anxiety spikes instantly.

Must she say the most horrible phrase in the English language?

Peter carefully sets his backpack on the couch before walking over and sitting on the designated stool, “Uh…what is it?”

“This,” his aunt slides a piece of paper over to him, “Progress reports were released yesterday and I didn’t check the portal until this morning. Explain this to me.”

Wait, progress reports? School isn’t even an issue, what the hell?

He looks down at the report and studies his grades, most of which are “A’s”, other than a “B-plus” that ruins the streak.

Fuck English and those fucking essays.

And there, at the bottom of the report, is his grade in AP History.

A “D.”

A big, fat, ugly “D.”

“What the hell?” Peter whispers in shock. This isn’t possible, he thinks, he’s never gotten anything below a “B” in, well, anything. School has always been his strong suit.

While yes, there were a couple of history quizzes he did less than stellar on, but shit happens, it certainly wouldn’t cause his grade to jump to a fucking “D.”

“There has to be a mistake,” he exclaims, still staring at the report with wide eyes, “There’s no way -”

“Really? No way?” May counters, voice a mixture of both anger and disappointment.

Making Peter want to crawl under a rock and die.

His aunt goes on, “Read the teacher’s comment.”

I don’t wanna.

The boy swallows a lump in his throat, reluctantly flipping over the page. He skims down until he sees the one for history and reads the comment.

Mr. Parker is no doubt a gifted student but he has difficulty with paying attention in class. While he does well on the homework, he lacks applying what he’s learned towards the tests and quizzes, both of which carry heavier percentages than the homework itself. I suggest taking more time to study, pay more attention in class, and, if possible, seek a tutor.

Peter scans over that comment who knows how many times.

Okay…maybe he’s done less than stellar on more than just a couple of quizzes.

How did he not see this, how in the fuck did he not know how bad his grade dropped?

The boy feels his stomach gurgle as it digests the last of his lunch that he had before he left to come back home.

Then it clicks.

Shit.

By the last class of the day, the food he’d eat at lunch has long since digested and his body is already begging for more.

So much so that he loses focus on the class and instead does what he can to keep himself sane until he can eat more food.

And the only reason why he’s able to do well on the homework is exactly that, he does it at home, where he’s hungry, but it’s bearable enough to where he can still concentrate.

At school, where he feels like his stomach might actually fall out of his body, leaves little room for concentration.

Peter looks back at his guardian with wide eyes, “I can explain.”

“Really? ‘Cuz I’m dying to hear it.” May lets out a light, humorless laugh, “I just, I just can’t believe we’re having a conversation about this. School was something I never had to worry about with you, what gives? Are you and Ned passing notes? Is there a girl you like that’s distracting you -”

“May, oh my God, I’m not ten,” her nephew says, annoyance in his tone, “And there’s no girl, for the record.”

“Then what is it, Peter?” May counters, getting annoyed herself, “Do you not understand the material, do you need a tutor -”

“No, no I don’t need a tutor. Look, I’m sorry, I’ll bring it up by the time report cards come -”

“You really think it’s that much of an easy fix?”

“Yes, look, May, it’s just a progress report, it doesn’t mean anything -”

“Oh, really now?” She asks, raising her voice slightly, “If they don’t mean anything, then why do they exist, huh? How would you feel if this was your report card? You’d lose your scholarship, Peter.”

Fuck, the fucking scholarship.

The teenager puts his head in his hands, his heart feeling heavy at the thought of being forced to leave Midtown, “Pretty shitty, yeah. May, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it got this bad, I promise I’ll bring it up. There’s a test next week, I’ll make sure to study for it.”

“Oh, you certainly will, no question, because until I see this ‘D’ disappear,” May hesitates before she says, “No more Spider-Man.”

“No!” The fifteen-year-old exclaims, head snapping right to his guardian, “May, please, please don’t take Spider-Man away from me. He’s what keeps me sane, c’mon, please.”

“He’s why your grade dropped, isn’t it?” The nurse asks, her only redeeming factor is that she doesn’t seem to like punishing him any more than he does, “That’s it, you’re too excited to be Spider-Man that you can’t concentrate on the class -”

“No, that’s not it! -”

“Then what is? Peter, help me understand ‘cuz I don’t know what the hell this is.”

The words are on the tip of his tongue.

I don’t get enough to eat.

He could say it, right here right now, he could say it. He would get to eat, and he could still be Spider-Man.

But May would feel awful.

And he can’t stand to see her more upset than she already is.

“You’re right,” Peter forces out, mentally kicking himself, “Yeah, it’s Spider-Man,” he concludes brokenly.

“That settles it then,” May confirms, voice small and filled with remorse, “No Spider-Man until you get your report card. And in three weeks, if I see anything less than a ‘C-plus’, it’s gonna be a long while before you see that suit again, you understand?”

As much as he doesn’t want to, the boy slowly nods his head, “This is so not fair -”

“It’s not up for discussion. Dinner’ll be in a few hours,” his guardian says, getting out of her chair to start chopping vegetables.

Peter quickly gets out of his own chair and gets his things before dragging himself to his room, the last thing he wants to do is look at his aunt let alone talk to her.

He gets to his room and slams the door, dropping his things and plopping onto his bed face down. He smushes his face on his pillow and screams into it as loud as he can without alerting May before slumping in defeat.

Words can’t express how mad he is at his guardian but it’s nowhere near how mad the kid is at himself.

How stupid was he? How did he not notice how bad he’s doing in the class? How could he have let it get this far?

And now there’s no more Spider-Man to at least soften the blow.

As much as he knows he needs to study, he doesn’t, he’d rather just lay in his bed and wallow in self-pity for the next week or so.

That’s just what he does until May calls out that dinner is ready. Peter wants to rebel by skipping dinner but realistically, he’d pass out if he doesn’t eat, and he wants to save those leftovers for as long as he can.

Dinner is the epitome of awkward.

Not much small talk is made as the kid eats his food as fast as humanly possible, afterward spending the rest of the night drowning out his thoughts through YouTube videos before succumbing himself to torture and digging out his history book.

No way is he letting the late 1800’s ruin his double life and his future.

The following week, he gets to work.

Unfortunately, his teacher doesn’t offer extra credit but he did say that if Peter continues doing well on the homework, studies hard for the upcoming quizzes and test, along with the paper due at the end of the month, the teen could have the potential to bring his grade up to a “B-minus”, maybe even a “B” if he aces them.

As long as his report card is above a “C-plus”, he doesn’t give a shit what it is.

The hero decides not to eat the extra food Ned gives him right at lunch and instead scarfs it down right before history. It doesn’t fill him up by any means but his stomach won’t sound like a thunderstorm either. Then when he gets home, he eats some of Tony’s leftovers, leaving his hunger manageable enough to make it to dinner.

It works for that week, to the teen’s pleasant surprise. Who knew that eating can make a person more focused and actually pay attention?

With this new routine, not only does the boy continue doing well on the homework but he damn near aces both of his next quizzes with a “B-plus” and “A-minus” respectively. The higher his grades get, the more confident he feels, he can almost taste the sweet freedom of swinging through the air and becoming one with the wonders of Queens.

Hell yes, Peter thinks, he’ll be back to donning the red and blue in no time.

However, that second week proves to be tougher than the first.

For one, Peter finished the leftovers; he didn’t want to, but he knew the food would eventually go bad if he kept it for much longer so he bit the bullet. Pair that with his dinner that night, it made him the most satisfied he'd felt since that waiter at the Thai restaurant gave May an extra plate of food for free.

God, why can’t that happen again?

He sticks to the same routine at school but when he gets home, he limits himself to a small snack to keep him satisfied until dinner.

But that has yet to work.

The teenager is having a hard time concentrating on his homework. The calculus that he normally breezes through is taking him twice as long to complete, same with physics, and he’s forced to put off history until after dinner, where his stomach doesn’t feel like it’s falling out and giving him enough energy to finish it with a passing grade.

Which is where Peter is finding himself now the night before that dreaded history test.

He huffs in frustration as he stares down at his dense brick of a history textbook, words blurring together as he reads over the same page for the fourth fucking time - and maybe the information might actually stay in his brain for once - and starving despite fixing himself a sandwich earlier.

Maybe his dinner should’ve had more sustenance than that but what the hell, he doesn’t know how to cook and May’s going to be at work until like midnight, he had to fix something.

Even though it’s only eight o’clock, the kid’s eyes are drooping with fatigue, resisting the urge to fall asleep on his book and thus making his chance of passing his test get slimmer and slimmer.

That lousy sandwich didn’t do shit.

Peter lightly slaps his cheek to wake himself up and he continues reading through that same page…again.

Why can’t I learn history dates as good as math formulas, this shit’s exhausting.

He studies as much as he can, going from the textbook to his chicken-scratch notes and now graded past homework and quizzes. Yet the more he tries to memorize political figures, the more he focuses on the food that’s in each and every one of the kitchen cabinets.

As if reading his mind once again, his stomach gurgles with hunger.

Okay, I think I saw another apple in the fridge. I mean, it can’t hurt.

Oh my God, and there’s a bag of chips we haven’t opened yet, maybe May won’t notice if I eat a few…or the whole fucking bag.

Maybe she’ll forget she bought them, no harm, no foul.

The hero’s mouth starts salivating at that. He can’t keep torturing himself like this, he has to get something to eat. Just as he’s about to do so, he hears a scream from outside his window.

“No!”

Peter’s head jerks to the window behind him, eyebrows narrowing in curiosity.

He’s normally pretty good at tuning out the murmurs that flood the mean streets of Queens…but that sounded close.

Too close.

Like right-outside-his-apartment-building close.

His worry grows when he hears another scream that sounds like it’s coming from the same person.

“Let go of me!”

Not just a person.

A kid.

Peter is out of his chair in less than a second. He opens his window and peeks out from the corner so he can’t be seen. After a few seconds of searching, his eyes land on a scuffle across the street between a middle-aged man with a black hoodie covered face and a little boy who can’t be older than eight or ten years old.

“You’re not my dad!” The boy cries, trying to get out of the man’s grasp.

“Shit,” Peter whispers, “Shit, shit, shit.”

The physiological need now forgotten, the hero races to his closet while he’s hurriedly taking off his clothes, putting on his suit in record time, and keeping a close ear on the scary situation at hand.

Okay, save the kid, come back, save the kid, come back…

He knows he’s breaking his aunt’s trust - which is saying something considering he kept this identity from her for almost a year - but he can’t just sit here and study shit that’s already happened while a child is being kidnapped.

The boy hears the usual greetings from Karen after putting on the mask, looking out the window once more before sneaking out of it, climbing the last few stories so he can scope the situation from the rooftop. He hears the little boy yell out again, “Let go of me!” but the kidnapper keeps dragging him along, mumbling some shit that Peter doesn’t find relevant to comprehend.

The teen swings to the next building, following the kidnapper and the poor little kid. He tells his AI, “Karen, activate web grenades.”

“Web grenades activated,” she responds, her usual robotic manner sounding out of place given the circumstances.

The spiderling swings to a building ahead of the criminal and waits patiently from the rooftop, web shooter aimed at the guy.

Keep walking, keep walking…aaaaand YEET.

He presses the button and a whole net of web fluid goes flying, trapping the kidnapper and hitting him against the wall of a closed bank. Unfortunately, the kid’s left hand got caught up in it and stuck around the web as well.

And he starts wailing.

Peter webs his way over in seconds, ignoring any bullshit the criminal is shouting, and lands in front of the boy.

He starts speaking words of reassurances, keeping his voice as soft and non-threatening as possible, “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, I gotcha, you’re okay.” The teen whispers to his AI, “Karen, call the police.”

“Already in pursuit, Peter.”

“Thanks.” Peter uses his super strength to tear the boy’s hand free, applying a small amount of web fluid to keep the net intact. He kneels in front of the kid and asks, keeping his voice light, “Hey, I’m Spider-Man. Are you okay, did he hurt you?”

The boy sniffles, wiping away a few tears with his sleeve. He holds out his left hand as he says shakily, “Just m-my-my, my hand…he was, he was holding it too tight.”

The teenager sighs in relief, thanking God that nothing worse happened. He ignores his stomach’s occasional growls as he asks, “I’m sorry he hurt your hand, buddy. Do you know where your parents are?”

The boy hastily shakes his head, eyes widening in fear, “My-My mom, we were walking and-and there were all these people and, and I-I let go of Mommy’s hand but I didn’t mean to!” His panic increases the more he talks, “Someone, someone uh, someone bumped into me, it was an accident -”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s not your fault, these things happen sometimes. So you got separated from your mom and that’s how you got lost?”

The little boy nods his head, wiping the last of his tears from his eyes, “And, and then, and then he,” he points to his attempted kidnapper, “Grabbed my hand and wanted to take me away.”

“He’s lying,” the offender says from the other side of the web net. Without even looking at the guy, Peter shoots a web at his face, successfully shutting him up.

The hero hears sirens in the distance and smiles from behind the mask, “The police are coming soon and they’re gonna help you find your mom, okay? Can you tell me your name?”

“J-Josh.”

“Well, Josh,” the teen holds out his fist as a police car turns the corner, “It was very nice to meet you.”

“Thanks, Spider-Man,” Josh smiles as he gives his hero a soft fist bump, biting his lip as he asks, “Can you stay until I find my mom?”

Another stomach growl escapes the spiderling but again, he pushes it down, “Of course, buddy.”

Law enforcement finally arrives and a female officer approaches the boy, taking his hand as the young genius stands up. His anxiety starts to rise as he starts to feel unexpectedly dizzy and he’s forced to put a hand on the wall to steady him.

Karen says into his ear, “Glucose levels decreasing rapidly, I suggest you seek appropriate nutrition or I can contact Mr. Stark -”

“No,” Peter commands, “Look, I’ll eat something after we find his mom, okay, just don’t tell Mr. Stark -”

“Are you talking to yourself?” Josh asks, turning around to look at the hero in confusion.

“Uh, just, um,” the other boy stutters, spinning around and again, having to use the wall to steady him, “Uh, Bluetooth.”

The little kid raises an eyebrow but simply shrugs and continues walking away, still holding the officer’s hand.

Peter uses his super strength to free the criminal and his mouth only for the guy to be arrested by two other officers. As they’re walking to a second police cruiser, the kid finds himself having to take short breaths and are his eyes deceiving him or is everything going suddenly blurry?

I thought my powers fixed my eyesight.

Karen again whispers in her owner’s ear, “Glucose levels are drastically low. Willing to contact Mr. Stark -”

“Please, Karen, no,” the spider-boy sharply whispers back, “I literally live here, I’ll eat something when I get back.”

“My concern isn’t when you’ll eat, but for if you can make it back at all. I have no choice -”

“Yes you do, don’t call him.”

Peter walks over to Josh, seeing his kidnapper being handcuffed and put in a car from the corner of his eye, albeit a blurry one, and says, “How you doing, little buddy?”

“Great! They found my mom, she called the police after I got lost and they’re bringing her here.”

Thank fuck.

“That’s great,” the hero says with as much energy as he can pull together, “I have to go now so you be safe, okay?”

“I’m never letting go of Mommy’s hand ever again.”

God, they’re so innocent.

“That’s good, good lesson,” Peter takes a couple more deep breaths as he stands up, ignoring the lightheadedness swirling in his brain, and with a friendly, “Have a good night”, he swings as fast as he can to his apartment.

Food, food, food, food, food…

The teenager sluggishly climbs back through his window and takes off his mask, swaying on his feet as his fingers start to shake. He starts to head over to the kitchen but grips onto the ladder of his bunk bed to let his vision catch up to him.

But then he looks at his bed.

His wonderful, heavenly, comfortable bed.

God, he’s so tired.

No, I gotta eat something.

However, he inches closer and closer to his bed, his world literally swirling around him in such a way that he’s amazed he can still stand up.

Maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt.

He’ll just eat something when he wakes up.

No harm, no foul.

Peter then gets into position and starts to belly flop onto his bed.

I’ll just take a nap riiiiiiiight here -

He is out cold before his head even hits the pillow.

“Boss, Mr. Parker is in distress.”

Tony’s head snaps up from the TV, gaze going to the ceiling, “What happened? He’s not supposed to be Spider-Manning.”

“Sending Karen’s information to your phone now.”

The man’s phone vibrates on the end table barely a second later. He hurriedly grabs it, reading what’s on the screen.

“Peter Parker’s glucose levels are devastatingly low. His vitals indicate that he is suffering from malnutrition and needs to seek medical attention immediately -”

“FRIDAY, call a suit,” Tony exclaims as he’s getting off of the couch, waiting to hear the rest while on his way to his kid.

“Yes, boss.”

“Kid, what the fuck are you doing?” Tony mumbles as he’s racing to the lab. In no time but it feels like too much time, he punches in his code and walks into the room, instantly getting into his suit, “FRIDAY, read me the rest of what Karen sent, put Peter’s vitals up on the screen.”

“Yes, boss, tracking his location now.”

The hero is out and flying to the location on the GPS only to see that the destination is at…the Parkers’ apartment.

The kid isn’t out.

And Tony has no idea if that’s a good thing or not.

Now knowing where he’s going, he turns off the GPS, trying not to let any panic set in at the boy’s ever slowly decreasing levels.

Or at the open window leading into the kid’s bedroom.

The billionaire stops right outside the window, carefully slipping inside and lifting up his faceplate.

He sees the tyke out cold on the bottom bunk of his bed, his left hand gripping his mask and a small puddle of drool next to his mouth. Tony would’ve thought this was adorable if he wasn’t so worried.

The older man kneels next to his kid and gives him a slight nudge, “C’mon, Pete, it’s time to wake up.” He nudges him a little more.

And a little more.

Tony gets more desperate as his anxiety skyrockets, “Peter, this isn’t funny, c’mon, wake up, we gotta get your idiotic ass fed yesterday.”

But Peter makes no notion of any plans to get up. The only way his mentor knows he’s still alive is by his vitals FRIDAY is whispering to him and the boy’s back rising and falling to the tune of his breathing.

“Kid, you’re really about to make me fucking do this,” Tony says with a sigh, grabbing the teen’s mask and putting if over his head to hide his identity, “FRIDAY, alert medbay, tell ‘em we’re on our way.”

“Roger that, boss.”

The mechanic slips his nameplate back over his face as he picks up his kid, positioning him like a toddler and sitting him on his arm, cupping the boy’s head to keep it close to his neck, “Might need two beds if I get a fucking panic attack over this,” he mumbles.

“Roger that, boss,” FRIDAY responds, not noticing the sarcasm.

“I didn’t mean - whatever,” Tony turns on his repulsors so he’s now hovering over the floor and with one leg at a time, he oh so gently flies out the window, not even bothering to close it as his suit takes off at full speed, determined to get this kid some help before…

He refuses to think about the rest of that sentence.

The entire flight back to the tower, Tony keeps a tight grip on his kid, damn near smushing Peter’s head against his neck. The man says occasional words of reassurance even though he knows no one is listening, “You’re gonna be okay, kiddo, you understand me? You have to be okay so I can whoop your ass later.”

Honestly, he’s not sure if he's saying this more to the kid or to himself.

He has superpowers, of course everything’s gonna be okay.

Because I said so, damn it.

Peter comes to, finding himself in a hospital gown on an equally uncomfortable bed, a bunch of wires attached to his left hand and a remote on the table to his right, assuming to adjust the bed and TV.

“What?” He mutters, taking in his surroundings. The room is a standard size with a marker board stating the healthcare professionals’ names, a portable cart containing whatever necessities the patient and doctor might need, along with an attached bathroom and window with a view of New York City.

What the fuck am I doing here?

He shifts on his bed in an effort to sit up but he accidentally hits something with his right leg.

The spider-boy tilts his head in confusion only to gasp at the sight of his father figure sitting in a chair next to him, fast asleep with his head on his kid’s bed, resting it on his crossed arms.

Peter can’t help but smile at the sight of Iron Man snoring but that doesn’t answer his question. He looks back down at the wires on his hand and follows them up to an IV bag with the label “glucose.”

Wait, glucose?

Everything hits the hero like a sack of potatoes as his mind takes him back to the last thing he remembers: the hunger, the little boy, Karen constantly telling him about his levels…

Deciding to take a nap.

And he wakes up here.

“Shit…shit, shit, shit, shit.”

The teenager jumps as he hears random beeps on some machine to his right. He feels his heart racing with panic and his legs start restlessly jerking from underneath his thin blankets, thus accidentally waking up his mentor.

Tony’s head snaps up when he feels his arms being nudged for about the fifth damn time. After blinking out of his stupor, he puts his focus on his frightened kid, “Peter, hey, hey,” he grabs hold of the tyke’s right hand and gives it a heartfelt squeeze, “Kid, it’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safe now -” he cuts himself off at noticing his words aren’t doing shit and his other hand goes the young genius’s shoulder, “Peter.”

The child stops abruptly, looking right at his hero. Said man gives him a reassuring smile and comfortingly rubs his shoulder to calm him, “You’re okay, buddy, take a breather.”

“Wha-what happened?” Peter asks between deep breaths, doing as his father figure says and trying to settle down, “Is May okay -”

“She’s fine,” Tony confirms, releasing his protege’s shoulder. He can feel the kid’s iron-grip in his hand and makes no move to let go, “She was here earlier but I made her go home for a bit and rest up. I’d rather there’d be one adult with a sore back than two.”

“Wait, how long was I out?”

“Well, considering it’s now,” the billionaire takes a brief look at his watch, “One PM, about fifteen hours, give or take. You had one hell of a nap, if I do say so myself.”

“That sounds like an amazing nap, I wish I savored it,” the teen replies, “But what happened?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Tony responds, face looking upset, “Why don’t you tell me why your levels were so low that I had to come get you in my damn suit and bring you back here?”

Peter sighs in frustration, “Glucose levels -”

“That’s right. When’s the last time you ate?”

“Um,” the spiderling starts, trying to be as vague as possible, “Dinner.”

Tony raises a confused eyebrow, “How much did you eat at dinner?”

“The normal amount,” Peter answers with a shrug.

Please don’t see through my bullshit.

“And you didn’t eat anything later on? You always have to eat something before bed.”

“I, uh,” the boy lets go of their grip, feeling his hand start to tremble uncontrollably. He brings it to his lap and puts it with his other hand under the covers, “Forgot.”

“You forgot to eat,” Tony says, face the epitome of unamused, “How do you forget to eat, your stomach practically screams at ya.”

“I just-I just did, okay, I’m sorry -”

“Oh really, you’re sorry? This ‘forgetfulness’ put you in the damn hospital, ‘sorry’ isn’t gonna cut it. I want you to tell me right now what the hell happened. Why did you let it get this bad?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Peter retorts, getting pissed at the man’s tone, “I didn’t want to end up like this, I thought I had it handled -”

“What handled, Peter?” At hearing no answer, the billionaire continues, “I already know about you Spider-Manning when you’re not supposed to -”

“It was one time! I couldn’t just let a kid get kidnapped cuz Spider-Man got grounded.”

Tony’s eyes soften at that, “Was that what happened last night?”

“Yeah, I heard it right outside the apartment building.” The teen’s voice lowers, “I was studying and I was about to get something to eat when I heard the kid scream, I-I couldn’t just let that happen. I was just gonna save the kid and come right back, I didn’t know it got that bad.”

“How hungry were you?”

“What?”

“How hungry were you?” The mechanic asks, repeating the question, “‘Cuz if you were just hungry, your levels wouldn’t’ve gotten that low. Kid, you were way past starving.”

The kid looks down in shame, feeling his cheeks heat up and he can only imagine how red they must look.

Tony then asks, trying to keep his tone as gentle as he can, “What is it that you’re so afraid to tell me, Peter?”

Peter looks up at him with sad eyes, biting his lip.

Fuck, he’s seeing through my bullshit.

Seeing no chance at a loophole, he knows he has to bite the bullet…but how does he go about telling billionaire Tony Stark that he’s not eating because his aunt can’t afford more food?

Said man asks, keeping his same tone, “Why are you not eating?”

“I am eating -”

“But clearly not enough, why? When you’re with me, you eat ‘til the cows come home - oh shit,” Tony cuts himself off, covering his mouth as his eyes widen in fear.

Peter’s eyes narrow in utmost confusion, “What, what is it?”

“You’re not eating as much as you should,” the older genius mumbles, trying to piece all this together, “And you pig out when you’re here.” He turns to his kid, sporting a scared expression, “Do you throw it all up later?”

That makes the other’s skin prickle into goosebumps, his own eyes bugging out, “What?!”

“It all makes sense now,” Tony states, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms in concentration, “You eat like a horse when you’re with me, but I just brought you here because you’re not eating enough at your place. You already threw it up when you saved that kid, didn’t you -”

“Oh my God!” Peter shouts, the insinuation sinking in, “You think I have an eating disorder?”

“What the hell else is it, Peter? No wonder you were scared to tell me -”

“No, Mr. Stark, it’s not that, I promise it’s not that.” The kid swallows a lump in his throat as he briefly purses his lips, finally giving in, “You don’t understand.”

“Try me -”

“I’m serious, you won’t.” Peter props his elbows on his knees above the covers, putting his head in his hands, “And I don’t expect you to understand.”

Tony leans forward, crossing his arms next to Peter’s outer thigh, his face unreadable, “Then make me understand,” he says slowly.

After a long deep sigh, the boy finally spits it out, head still in his hands, “I don’t get enough to eat.”

“What?”

Peter lifts his head up, resting his hands in his lap, “I don’t get enough to eat. At home, I mean.”

“May doesn’t feed you enough -”

“No, she does, it’s not May’s fault. She feeds me enough food…for if I didn’t have powers.”

It takes a few seconds but the hypothetical lightbulb goes off over the man’s head, “May doesn’t know you have to eat more.”

The spider-boy silently nods his head.

Tony asks, “Why didn’t you tell her?”

The tyke’s shoulders slump with dread. The guy who can buy fucking Google is about to hear his stupid working-class money troubles.

He then says, eyes looking everywhere but at his mentor, “‘Cuz she can’t afford it.”

“Wait, what?”

“She can’t afford it. I don’t know how she manages to buy enough for if I was just a normal human being, with all the bills and her loans and everything. She can’t buy more food for me, Mr. Stark. I’d love to get a job and help her out but I’m only fifteen -”

“Stop, stop right there,” Tony cuts him off, looking even more confused than he was earlier, “That’s what this is about? You don’t want her to buy more food?”

Peter looks up at the older man, looking offended, “It’s not that, I’d love for her to buy more food but she can’t. I’ve seen the bills when she thinks I’m not looking, or her student loans she’s behind on. God, if it wasn’t for my scholarship I wouldn’t even be going to Midtown ‘cuz we can’t afford it.” His voice lowers as humiliation sets in, “Which is why I have to get my history grade up.” His eyes grow to the size of his head, “Oh my God, my test is today -”

“Don’t worry about it, I called the school this morning, you can make it up next week.”

“Next week? But it’s Thursday -”

“Yeah, you’re gonna need more than one day to recuperate after all of this,” Tony says, slightly annoyed, “Why didn’t you tell me you guys are having money issues, I can help you out -”

Peter cuts him off with a humorless laugh, “You really think that’s gonna solve everything?”

“If it means to get you to eat more, it absolutely will,” the billionaire responds, raising his voice in offense.

“I knew you wouldn’t get it -”

“Then make me get it, for God’s sakes, you need money and I can give it to you -”

“We’re not a charity case, don’t you understand?” The child exclaims, “We’re doing fine, we don’t need help -”

“Doesn’t look like it from where I’m standing -”

“But we are!” Peter sighs deeply in frustration, “You’re not the first person to offer us money, okay? You don’t know how it feels.”

“How what feels?”

“For someone to try and help you out by giving you money. It sounds great on paper but you’ve never had someone give you this-this ‘look’ of pity that makes you feel this big,” Peter shapes his thumb and index finger into the shape of a “C”, with both fingertips almost touching, “All because you’re not making that much money. I just, I don’t wanna put Aunt May through that again. She’s proud of what she does, she loves what she does, she loves helping people. I don’t want anyone belittling her again.”

That makes Tony pause.

While yes, no shit he knows the vast majority of people don’t have his kind of money but most of the people in his life over the years only hung out with him because of his money. He’s never thought about the opposite end of that coin, how someone is proud of making a living, especially being in a profession that they love.

And that as long as they can provide for them and their family, they don’t need to be a billionaire to be happy.

“You really love May, don’t you?” Tony finally asks, a proud smile spreading across his face.

“More than anything,” his protege says with a nod of his head, “So please don’t tell her -”

“You know I can’t do that -”

“Please -”

“No, Pete, while your intentions are good, I can’t let you keep starving yourself like this. Who knows what would’ve happened if you weren’t in your suit, if I didn’t get that notification from Karen.” The older hero grabs hold of his mentee’s hand again, “Hey look at me.”

Peter reluctantly looks up at his father figure, his shame slowly but surely ebbing away.

Tony gently his thumb over the tyke’s knuckles, giving him a reassuring smile, “You deserve to eat. We’re gonna tell May and we’re gonna figure this out, okay?”

An unexpected third voice erupts from the doorway, “Tell May what?”

Both heroes’ heads snap to the front to see the woman herself walk in, closing the door behind her. She immediately rushes to the other side of her kid, giving him a hug, “How you doing, sweetie, you gave us quite a scare there.”

Peter hugs her back letting go of Tony’s hand, “I’m better now, thanks to Mr. Stark.”

“It’s nothing, bud,” the mechanic says, comfortingly rubbing the tyke’s knee, “I’m just glad I can help.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Tony,” May says when they separate, sitting down in her own chair opposite the older man, “I know I said that like a million times, but really, I owe you one -”

“You don’t owe me a thing, not where the kid is concerned.” Tony turns to his intern, “But you actually came at the perfect time ‘cuz Pete here has something he’s gotta tell you.”

“Oh?” May turns to her nephew, grabbing hold of his left hand, being mindful of the wires connected to him, “Is it about what happened, I’ve been dying to know.”

“Yeah,” Peter replies, defeatedly, “I’m sorry I went out as Spider-Man but I had a good reason.”

“We’ll talk about that later, I’m just glad you’re okay. What happened, sweetie, you’ve been eating just like you always have, what was the problem?”

“That’s the thing, May,” the boy starts, scratching the back of his neck, “There’s something I didn’t tell you about me after I got my powers.” He doesn’t wait for her response, “I have to eat more than I used to to keep up with them. I have I guess what you call an ‘enhanced metabolism’, meaning I have to eat more than everyone else.”

The nurse’s eyes squint in confusion before her eyebrows raise as everything sets in, “Oh my God,” she says, leaning back in her chair and hand covering her face, not unlike what Tony did earlier, “So all this time you were starving yourself?”

“Well -”

“Why, Peter?! Why the hell would you do that?”

“‘Cuz I know you wouldn’t be able to afford it, okay?” Peter cries, “I didn’t want you to struggle any more than you already do -”

“Stop,” May cuts him off with another hug, her eyes glistening with unshed tears behind her glasses, “Stop, baby, stop.” She lets go and looks right in his eyes, “Don’t ever pull that shit with me again, you understand?”

Peter nods his head, letting a small grin escape him at hearing a muffled snicker from Tony, “I promise. Um,” he takes a deep breath as his aunt settles back into her chair, “It’s also why my history grade is as bad as it is.”

“What?” Both adults ask at the same time.

“Uh,” the teen starts, fidgeting with his top blanket, “So the free lunch I get at school doesn’t fill me up obviously and Ned sometimes brings extra food and that helps…for a while.”

“I know where this is going,” he hears Tony mumble.

“Yeah, and history is my last class of the day so by the time that comes around, I’m really, really hungry so I have a hard time concentrating. In my defense though, it’s boring as shit.”

Both adults can’t help but giggle, “Yeah, history wasn’t my strong suit either,” Tony says, coming to his kid’s defense.

“Peter, this is why you need to tell me things,” May says, “You still understand why I punished you, though -”

“Yeah, even though I hated it. Is Spider-Man ungrounded now?”

“You get rested up and eat for once and we’ll talk.”

“Deal,” the kid confirms with a grunt.

As if on cue, his stomach releases an ever so slight gurgle. As much as the IV bag has helped, he needs actual food sustenance.

Tony says, pressing the button to call a nurse, “And on that note, let’s get you patched up and we’ll order in, how ‘bout that?”

May cuts in, “And you can have allll the orange chicken your tummy desires.”

Peter gives them both a timid smile, wincing as another growl rolls in his abdomen, “That sounds amazing.”

“Mr. Stark, I’m a failure.”

“Kid, you know you’re not, it’s just a few dates and inventions.”

“You make the Industrial Revolution sound like it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

It is now the following week, the day before Peter’s makeup history test, and the father-son duo are in the lab after school. Instead of actually working on anything, Tony is helping his kid study.

If only he can get Peter to put the material in that hard head of his.

“You get into that mindset, and it will be the easiest thing in the world, bud.”

“Easy for you to say,” Peter whines, “Your scholarship’s not riding on this.”

Aw, how cute that he thinks I won’t help him out.

“Forget about the scholarship, you’re already stressed as it is. Focus on the triple cheeseburger you’re gonna get after this thing is finally over.”

“The two triple cheeseburgers,” the kid shyly elaborates.

Ever since the tyke dropped that bombshell about him freaking starving himself, things have changed. For one, May - refusing Tony’s help - is buying more groceries and always makes sure her kid gets a lunch in addition to the free one that’s available. Whenever Peter stays with his father figure, things stay the same except now when Tony makes dinner, he purposely makes more for leftovers.

And now, the man is about to present his kid with another way to help him out.

“Pete, I think your brain might actually explode, let’s take a break for a sec, huh?”

After releasing a long, dramatic sigh, Peter drops his pencil, “Y’know what? Fuck history.”

Tony can’t help but bust out laughing, “Kid, you know why you have to learn it, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, but it’s not like I’m gonna be a historian or anything.” The teen gets up and walks over to where his father figure is standing, “Whatcha wanna work on?”

“Actually, I want you to do this for me first.” The billionaire takes a folded piece of paper out of his jeans pocket and unravels it, holding it out to his protege, “I want you to sign right here, and initial here.” He points to the designated areas where a signature is required as the teen takes the document, reading what it says in confusion before his eyes widen in shock.

“You’re…you wanna make my internship a paid internship?” Peter asks, not believing what he’s seeing, “And May already signed it?”

“Yup, you’re not eighteen so I needed May’s approval. So,” Tony casually leans against the table, holding out a pen for the kid, “What d’ya say?”

“I-I,” the teen stutters, his gaze not leaving the sheet of paper, “But like it’s not actually an internship, that’s just a front -”

“Really? You think all the stuff you do around here is just a front?” The older genius asks with a cheeky smile, “Making up web fluid and all the repairs you help me do, I should’ve done this a long time ago if I’m being honest.”

Peter looks long and hard at the writing in front of him, occasionally glancing back and forth at both that and the man who put it together.

He’s not stupid, the kid knows why his mentor is bringing this to his attention.

And he’s grateful.

Tony could’ve tried offering money again, making him feel like a loser even though he didn’t mean it in that way.

But no, Iron Man is offering him a job, a job where he can continue doing what he loves while he helps out his aunt in the process.

He can feel accomplished…proud even.

A smile breaks out across the teen’s face as he takes everything in, thinking about what he can do with the money he’s going to make in addition to helping May: saving up for college, a car, and ooh that Nintendo Switch he’s been dying to have -”

His thoughts are interrupted by Tony clearing his throat, snapping him back to reality, “My arm’s getting tired here, kiddo, you in or not?” The man asks.

Peter takes the pen and lays the sheet on the table, signing on the dotted lines before giving it back to him, “Um, th-thank you, thank you, Mr. Stark, you’re amazing.” He concludes with giving him a hug, wrapping his arms around his hero’s torso thus making the older man gasp in surprise.

“Well, I already knew that,” Tony says jokingly, giving the tyke a light ruffle of his hair, “But it sounds so much better when you say it. You’re the amazing one, don’t doubt that.”

“Tell that to my history book.”

“Speaking of,” the mechanic starts with a snicker, “The Second Industrial Revolution -”

Peter cuts him off with a groan, defeatedly resting his head on the other��s chest, “You said I could take a break -”

“Yeah, for a sec.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“But you ‘needa’, c’mon, back to studying.” Tony lifts his mentee’s head and lightly pushes him back to the direction of his textbook, “So, who invented the telephone?”

“Uh, ‘Mr. Telephone’? He probably used his last name when he invented it.”

Tony lets out about the deepest sigh he’s ever expressed, “So this is how my hair goes gray.”

The following week, it is an ordinary day at the Parkers’ residence. May is preparing dinner while her nephew - who is still feeling satisfied from his after-school snack - is at the counter working on homework, trying not to stare so much at his history test that his aunt stuck to the refrigerator with a magnet.

But damn, he’ll never get tired of seeing that shiny red “B-plus.”

There is a sudden knock at the door, making both Parkers tense up since they’re not expecting anybody.

May opens the door with her kid standing off to the side. On the other side stands a middle-aged man holding a clipboard with about half a dozen bags on the ground around him.

Are Peter’s eyes mistaken or do those bags look like the reusable ones grocery stores sell?

“Ms. Parker?” The man asks, voice neutral but friendly.

“Uh, yes?” May reluctantly responds, looking the epitome of confused.

“I got your groceries here for ya.”

“What, um I didn’t order anything, Peter, did you?” The nurse turns to her kid who responds with a simple shake of his head, his expression matching his aunt’s.

The man’s eyes squint at the small clipboard he’s holding, “Isn’t this your address, ma’am?” He holds the clipboard out to the older Parker and she studies the sheet for a couple of seconds, eyes looking more and more baffled.

“Uh…yeah, yeah that’s us but-but I don’t understand -”

“No need to explain, I’m just the messenger. If you would just sign right here, saying you received your items -”

“Sir, with all due respect, I’m not paying for something I didn’t order.”

“Don’t worry about it, that’s all taken care of. All I need from you is your signature.”

“Uh,” May stutters, shoulders slumping in defeat, “Okay, sure.” She signs the paper and gives it back to him.

“Do you need assistance with the groceries today?”

“No, we got it from here, uh, thank you, thank you very much.”

“Alright, have a good day,” the delivery man then leaves them be. They pick up the grocery bags and bring them inside, quickly going through them as if it’s Christmas.

They gawk at the food items in front of them: steak, salmon, lobster, there’s even veal and duck amongst a pile of vegetables, some of which they’ve never even seen before.

“Where did all of this come from?” Peter asks, amazed at all that “Santa Claus” has graced them with.

“Wait, there’s a note.” May reaches the bottom of one of the bags and pulls out a mini note card that could mimic one that goes in a flower arrangement. She then reads aloud the brief message.

This is what you get for refusing help. Expect groceries every Monday and Thursday for the next, well, ever.

Signed, “You Know Who I Am” -

“Mr. Stark,” Peter finishes with a disbelieving grin, “Of course he did this.”

May can’t help but laugh, not believing this herself as she gets out her phone, “I’m giving this man a piece of my mind.”

Her nephew giggles in response, already getting out his own phone and sending his father figure a text.

Thanks for the groceries but you reeeeeally didn’t have to do that

Tony responds not even a minute later.

I know 😉

Now for God’s sakes EAT!!

254 notes · View notes

stefciastark · 4 years ago

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"Please! I-" ~Webpril Day 20

A/N: Today's is short and sweet, but I enjoyed writing out a bit of an argument scene :) Dialogue scares me to write, weirdly enough, but I think it's because I'm so afraid of writing the characters out-of-character, so this was a fun but slightly anxiety inducing exercise. Peter really is going to be the death of Tony. Hope you enjoy xx Only 10 days left!

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

“Please! I-”

“Zip it, I don’t want to hear it.”

“But-”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Tony dragged his hand down his face, taking deep and measured breaths to hold on to whatever semblance of reason and sanity he had left. “You could have died. Did that even cross your mind for a second?”

“But I didn’t.” Peter’s voice was small, shrinking back against the cold fury that pulsed off of Tony in waves. It felt worse than the post-Ferry altercation between them months prior, and Peter had promised himself he wouldn’t screw up like that again. Well, the promise didn’t last long, and Peter - as Tony put it - screwed the pooch, hard. Again.

“You don’t even know how to fly a plane, Peter, you’re not Captain Sully. This isn’t ‘Miracle on the Hudson’, you could have killed people!”

“People would have died if I didn’t do something, Mr Stark!”

What had started as frustration turned to anger, and what was anger was now turning into resentment.

“I expected more from you, kid.”

Tony’s disappointment felt like a slap to the face, and the anger and indignation Peter had been holding in for months finally exploded.

“I’m so sick of you underestimating me! You tell me how much you want me to be better, about how now that I’m an Avenger I need to step up from just protecting the ‘little guy’, but you never give me the chance! At every opportunity or sign of real danger you bench me, so when I saw my chance to prove myself, I took it.”

Tony’s tone dropped to a frightening level of calm, and Peter clenched his fists against the faint trembling that had started.

“Everything I’ve done has been to protect you. Do you understand that? I don’t need you chasing the life of a martyr.”

Despite himself, Peter felt his head nodding, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to retaliate. Tony reminded Peter a lot of Aunt May sometimes. They both had an innate ability to scare the living hell out of him. Their anger was like a hurricane and reminded Peter of an Eye of the Storm. It began with chaos, lulling to a stillness and silence that gave Peter one last chance to backpedal, followed by more chaos. Backpedaling seemed like the most viable choice this time around; Peter was more afraid of losing the suit again.

“I just wish you’d give me a chance…”

Tony sighed, an exhausted sound that drifted past his lips into the tense air between them. “I know. Do you remember that little talk we had after the ferry incident?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t lose you, kid. Every time you swing from a building, I’m afraid the cord will snap. Every time you go up against bad guys with guns, I’m afraid the bullet won’t miss. Bottom line is, I can’t have you giving me a heart attack every mission. Now this? This was almost a cardiac arrest.”

The aggravation Peter had been experiencing slowly transformed into a sickening feeling of guilt. For the first time, he really saw the circles under Tony’s eyes, the very faint and almost imperceptible trembling in his hands - although that may have been from anger, Peter couldn’t tell - and the deepened frown lines on his mentor’s face.

Peter’s heart was still pumping with adrenaline from the incident, the rough jolts as the aircraft hit the water still vibrating through his body. He had managed to land it in the Upper Bay area between Manhattan and Staten Island. Why the hell did it always have to be in the Upper Bay? First the ferry a few months ago and now a plane. Peter mentally vowed to steer clear of the whole area; in all likelihood, the next crisis in line would be a bus incident where it would somehow end up in the water, and he would somehow be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Third time’s the charm.

“I’m sorry, Mr Stark.” Peter closed his eyes, not wanting to see the expression - Peter almost wanted to call it ‘regret’ but he quickly shook that thought away - on Tony’s face again. He felt like ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t quite cut it. In all actuality, he wasn’t sorry in the slightest for doing what he did. Peter was more sorry that he was the one causing the slightly premature grey hairs on Tony’s head.

Peter felt the movement of the space in front of him as Tony moved closer. The anger from the atmosphere had dissipated, leaving behind only an air of bone-deep weariness.

“I’m not going to take your suit, so don’t give me that whole ‘deer in the headlights’ thing.”

Peter swallowed against the lump in his throat. The weight of the snowballing pile of emotion lifted off of his chest and ironically made him emotional once again. This time, relief won out. “Thank you Mr Stark. I just really want you to give me a chance, y’know?” He really hoped his voice wasn’t wavering.

“It’s not that I don’t believe in you, Pete.” Tony placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder and worried his bottom lip for a second before continuing. “You did great today.”

The conversation came to its end as the warmth lifted off of Peter’s shoulder, and he turned to watch as Tony walked towards his portion of the Avengers facility.

Tony smiled inwardly as he approached the hallway that led to his segment of the facility, the smile a reaction to Peter’s heroic performance that he’d never let the kid see. He didn’t want to send the wrong message that impulsivity and recklessness should be the default. Then again, who was he to talk? He felt a deep-seated sense of pride, and he had to shake away the accompanying intrusive thought that asked him whether or not Howard had ever felt that way towards Tony’s triumphs.

As he caught sight of himself in one of the passing reflective surfaces, the image of salt and pepper hair and bags - that sure as hell weren’t designer - under his eyes greeted him. Peter really was going to be the death of him.

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years ago

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It’s This Jealousy

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Notes: I got tagged in this post right here by @starkerscoop and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get my hands on it. It got a little smutty at the end - hope you don’t mind! (& @send-me-your-hcs asked for a tag, too!) Warnings: masturbation Summary:

It's this jealousy Oh, and I just can't believe In this jealousy This jealousy for you

At the ripe age of 49, Tony never imagined he’d be best friends with an 18-year-old. After all the mess with Steve and Bucky, things were a little strained between Rhodey and Tony. It wasn’t anything personal, there were just lots of things between them now, the leg braces he worked constantly to improve not even close to the only thing. With Peter, Tony could simply be. Their shared history wasn’t filled with anything other than a little tension and some misplaced control on Tony’s part.

The more Tony started to see Peter as the intelligent person he was and not the kid he always made him out to be, the more he wanted to have the younger man around. There was something in the way he tilted his head to ask questions and babbled incessantly that Tony just felt drawn to. Try as he might, there was no escaping the magnetic pull that drew him more towards Peter every single day.

It wasn’t subtle, either – the way they just seemed to fit. Peter moved into Avenger’s tower after graduating; the transition from part time to full time was and easy one, he fit right in with everyone – especially Tony. It didn’t take long for the two of them to break off and head for the lab together or be found in the living room pressed together from shoulder to hip talking quietly amongst themselves.

If someone was looking for Tony, they always pointed him in Peter’s direction. There weren’t many times throughout the day that they weren’t together. Tony appreciated Peter’s brain – he thought from all angles and wasn’t afraid to be wrong. There were many times when Peter taught Tony something new or made him go back and look at things from a totally different perspective.

Just the other day, Tony sat with his head in his hands, the nanotech and its housing unit he’d been trying to manipulate for the last hour sitting uselessly on the desk. A soft touch on his shoulder had him looking up, a smile overtaking his face for the first time all day. “Hey, kid,” Tony said in greeting, his hand coming up to hold Peter’s to his shoulder for a moment. “Training go well?”

He’d been trying to update his suit, so he stepped out of the group training for the day. The transition from the mechanism on his chest to the full suit was still too slow – he needed at least another second off of the total time. The headache didn’t seem worth it at that point, though – he should have worked the frustrations out. His head ached and he wanted to pull the freshly showered Peter Parker closer to him more than usual.

When Tony let go of Peter’s hand, he was surprised to find that Peter didn’t move his hand from its place on his shoulder. In fact, the fingers there dug in, the tips moving up and down the line of muscle. He tried not to move – the last thing he wanted to do was scare the kid away; the touch felt amazing. It was almost enough to make the collection of useless tech below him not matter. Almost.

“It did – the new adjustments you made to the aiming system did a world of good. I was moving so fast today,” Peter answered, his voice excited. Tony forced himself to settle on the slightest flash of a smile – Peter loved being a superhero, it was so insanely obvious. More often times than not, Tony found himself working on Peter’s suit just to see the astonishing smile on his face – the very one that was beaming back at him right now.

Tony picked up the small screwdriver he’d been using to mess with the back paneling, his face burning a little from the rush of affection that washed over him. It didn’t make sense, feeling like a schoolboy with a crush. But he couldn’t help it – Peter was so wholesome and filled with excitability and life; it was hard not to be drawn to it. “Bummed I missed it. I’ll pull the data from EDITH later – we can do a little data spec. I’ll see it in real time that way.”

He heard Peter suck in a breath, then saw the smile on his face grow wider. “That sounds like a good idea. I also brought some new ideas for the next evolution of web fluid. I’m so close to a breakthrough.” He went about taking his StarkPad and old-fashioned spiral notebook out of his backpack, excitement written all over his face.

Sitting down next to him (instead of across from him like not too long ago) Peter leaned into Tony’s space, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t think it’s this,” Peter remarked, pointing to the external structure. “The adjustments you made on the shooters was in the programming. I don’t think it’s a mass thing, either. I think it’s in the transition.” To Tony’s surprise, he opened his notebook and pointed to a couple different equations. “I ran these this morning when I saw what you were looking at yesterday.”

Peter’s cheeks were red, and his body radiated the kind of heat that shouldn’t have been natural. It made his entire right side warm, the bare skin of his forearms prickling from the contact. Letting his eyes roam over the work, Tony leaned into him – an arm wrapping around his shoulder. “This is good stuff, Pete. I think I know exactly where to go now.” He kept his arm there for a few minutes, the two of them still lightly discussing the numbers and what brought Peter down that path.

A week later, his suit was ruining faster than ever before. Every time he punched the mechanism and the nanotech did its thing, Tony felt a warm drip of pride in the middle of his core – the little bits of attraction he’d been trying to hide getting harder and harder to ignore.

Especially because Peter seemed to think that their friendship came with an all access pass – to him, to the never-ending stream of thoughts that ran through his head, hell, to Tony’s things. Many times, he’d come back from a meeting and find Peter passed out on the edge of his bed, the huge TV dialed in to some anime show he couldn’t force himself to get into. He never did anything about it – how could he? Most of his daydreams revolved around that very instance.

After a few weeks, Peter started to talk – like, really talk. He started with the story of how his parents died and the struggle it was to get used to living with May and Ben. Peter talked about the things he missed because he didn’t have parents in his life, no matter how much his aunt and uncle tried.

The more time they spent together, the more Peter let himself be free with his words. Tony knew what type of shampoo he preferred, how many times May walked in on him naked or unclothed, and all the different fanfictions currently all the rage.

They were close – plain and simple. There were a few times when their closeness seemed like it might be something else, but neither man acted upon it. Tony didn’t want to apply undue pressure to a situation that only few people his age were interested in. He didn’t know much about Peter’s thoughts on that matter – it was the one thing they didn’t talk about.

MJ quickly became a topic that strictly stayed in the friend pile, Peter’s interest in her weaning significantly after some sort of mishap during their trip to Europe.

Tony spent most of his time holed up in his bedroom the entire week Peter was gone, his mind and body exhausted from all the work he managed to get done in the comfort of his king-sized bed. He didn’t talk to anyone, Tony keenly aware that his behavior was not appropriate for an almost 50-year-old person.

He could never admit that Peter coming back was the best day of the entire summer – the two of them quickly catching up on his use of EDITH and the different aspects of the new suit he wanted to start working on for his patrols back in the city. It seemed like nothing changed between them – but relationships or anything related weren’t brought up again.

The idea that he wasn’t approachable in that area made his jaw clench. His history didn’t lend itself to a positive image, he could admit that. There were a few years when things were so out of whack that only going from one thing to the next could satisfy him. After the cave, Tony figured the person closest to him when he got back was the answer. The try he applied to his relationship with Pepper wasn’t lacking, they were simply better off as friends.

It smarted a little – how perceptive Peter was. If the reason he didn’t approach Tony was because of his past, he couldn’t begrudge Peter one single bit. The kid was smart and understood that bad habits weren’t to be repeated. Too bad Tony’s history wasn’t anything like the way he currently felt and thought.

----

Walking into the kitchen in the common area of the tower, Tony quirked a brow at the congregation of Steve Rogers, Wanda, Bucky, and Peter – they all looked up at him when they realized he was in the room. Peter’s cheeks colored, his eyes drifting down to the hands knit together in front of him. The rest of the adults at the table were looking at him with looks of curiosity and interest – Tony almost certain he could feel Wanda picking around in his brain, or something.

“Tony!” Peter exclaimed, one of his hands moving quickly to cover his mouth. It would have been comical if Tony didn’t know the kid so well. Peter didn’t do so well with lying or bending the truth – his face and expressive eyes gave him away. Staring at him now, Tony wondered what kind of snake pit he walked into. He gave the group a swift nod but didn’t stop to join them – he didn’t need spider senses to understand the prickly sensation on the back of his neck.

He was quick to get the hell out of dodge, a water bottle in his hand – the thought of making a sandwich quickly abandoned when all of the eyes in the room followed his every movement. Settling onto the couch, Tony put a random Netflix show on and turned up the volume – his ears ringing from the overdrive of his thoughts. Whatever they were talking about, he suspected it might have something to do with him.

It didn’t stay a mystery long. Tony saw Steve approaching him from the laid-back position he let himself curl into on the couch. Queer Eye sucked him in, so he let his brain check out, his body relaxing with the rest of him. The second he saw Steve, though, he sat up – the prickly sensation returning to his skin. He felt like he might throw up all over his fancy shoes, the thought that maybe throwing up would be a little less painful than whatever Steve might have to say crossed his mind.

“So – “ Steve started, his arms folding across his chest as he settled into the empty part of the couch. “I had a surprising conversation with Peter. Or well, he asked some surprising questions. Are things okay between the two of you?” Steve’s voice sounded a little patronizing – the big brother act something Tony could never get behind. At least he was here talking to him, though – it didn’t seem right to begrudge him that.

“What are you talking about, Rogers? I don’t know what kind of questions he asked you to know what you’re referring to. The last time I saw Peter, he was smiling over a beaker of web fluid.” Tony pressed himself against the side of the couch, the softness of it aggravating. In that moment, he wanted weight – something to ground him to this weird conversation.

In another life, Tony would’ve appreciated the tilt of Steve’s head, the curious look in his eye not the worst thing to look at. He knew what it was like to take on Bucky, though – he’d never win that fight alone. Shaking his head of the thought, he focused on Steve and the words it seemed he was trying to find. “He was asking about pleasuring himself. We all assumed you two were good in that department.”

Tony sucked in a breath, his eye bulging. “Pleasuring himself – what? Steve, we’re not together.” The words felt weird coming out of his mouth, like they were trying their hardest to cling to the surface of his tongue and not be spoken; speaking them made it true. Running a hand through his hair, Tony wished that the couch would open up and swallow him whole.

The emotions that swarmed around him made it hard to pay attention to anything else Steve said – his head nodding, but his brain not really processing anything. All he could think about was the fact that Peter went to Steve Rogers of all people to ask about the most personal of matters. Tony was good enough for everything except carnality – what a joy that was to learn. Without much thought, Tony got up, not really giving two shits about the still talking Steve gaping at him from the couch.

He took refuge in the lab – the sight and smell of familiar things enough to calm him down slightly. “FRIDAY, play some classic rock, will you? KISS, maybe.” Tony said absentmindedly – music would drown out the bottomless pit of things that only made him angry. His understanding of how irrational it was to be as angry and jealous and upset about something that wasn’t even his business made it all a little worse.

A whoosh of the door opening a little while later brought Tony out of the trance that he blissfully slipped into. Not thinking was a lot better than the war of emotions that threatened to consume him. His eyes caught Peter’s, his exterior softening for a second – his presence was soothing, even now.

Remembering Steve’s mistake and the weird feeling of betrayal, Tony lowered his eyes quickly – it would take ignoring the soft look in Peter’s eye to keep firm to his resolve to be mad.

“Tony – I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Peter approached him like one would a wounded animal, slowly and with caution. He wondered if Steve was supposed to tell Tony about Peter’s questions – if he was betraying the kid’s trust to set the record straight. His blood felt like it was boiling – the direction of his thoughts not very productive in deactivating the bomb that was ticking down, each second a little closer to explosion.

He felt himself huff out a sarcastic laugh, his emotions getting the best of him. “Well, you found me. Now what?” Tony’s voice was harder than he ever wanted to use towards Peter – the pitch of it sending a shiver of shame down his spine. The subtle change in the room wasn’t missed – so he let the feeling take hold; what did he really have to lose?

“What? Tony, I – “ Peter spluttered, words not coming despite his demand for them.

“You what? You’ve told me your entire life story, every little intimate detail, but you seek out Steve Rogers for sex advice? I don’t get you, Peter – a little piece of me is licking a wound. It kind of feels a little like betrayal.” Tony inwardly cringed, his own desperation so very evident. The dam inside of him was broken – there seemed to really be no going back. “I’m good enough for everything but this?”

Peter’s face fell, his usually bright eyes clouded over by confusion that was swiftly mixing with hurt – it pained Tony on a molecular level, seeing that gorgeous face anything but radiant with happiness. “Steve’s such an asshole,” Peter muttered, his eyes dropping to the floor. Tony wanted to pick Peter’s head up and rub his cheeks until the red hue and shine came back to his face.

“I didn’t come to you because you’re the one driving me crazy – I’ve been so on edge around you and I can’t – there hasn’t been any relief. I thought I’d ask people who are just as souped up as me about it. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me,” Peter admitted quietly, his eyes peeking up to gauge the look on Tony’s face.

Shaking his head, Tony cursed himself for not being the stonewalled person he made himself out to be. The cracks in his armor were ones he couldn’t buff out – no matter how hard he tried. Words he longed to hear sat on his skin, his body trying to decide how to process the stimulus of actually getting the thing he wanted the most.

The few steps it took to close the gap between them felt like miles – Tony couldn’t get his hands on Peter fast enough. “I’m driving you crazy?” Tony mumbled; his hands grabbing Peter’s hips. “You walk into the room and I’m completely lost. I’ve thought about bending you over every one of these tables – kissing you breathless against the damn fridge you lean into and search for food that isn’t there.”

Peter wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck, his enhanced strength pulling Tony against him before he knew what happened. There wasn’t any space left between them, their noses brushing with every hitch of breath either man took. “You’re my best friend, Pete – I haven’t wanted to fuck that up.”

Their lips touched then, both of them leaning in to close the distance. Tony’s fingers clenched, the hold on Peter’s hips tightening. The t-shirt Peter was wearing rode up a little, a bare stripe of skin available for his fingers to touch. At first brush, the body against him squirmed, Peter pulling away to let out a soft gasp. “Fuck!” Peter grunted out, his eyes clenching closed.

Tony watched Peter’s reaction, a rush of heat collecting in the boiling pit of his stomach – his cock throbbed against the zipper of his jeans. He’d thought a lot about what Peter would look like in the throes of passion – the sight was exponentially better than anything his brain could dream up. The flush on his cheeks made them seem fuller, the globe of them looking tasty enough to pull into his mouth. Glazed eyes and a hanging jaw had Tony moving – his lips desperate to be pressed against Peter’s once again.

“We should move this elsewhere,” Peter babbled against Tony’s lips, his fingers fisted in the front of Tony’s shirt. “I want to feel your skin, Tony.” His hands were uselessly tugging at the buttons, the fabric of it starting to tear with the force of his grip.

Groaning, Tony forced himself to take a couple of steps out of Peter’s grip completely. It would take too many brain cells to get to the elevator and up to the floor his rooms were on if he were still anyway attached to Peter – his hands achy to touch, to finally feel the thrum of Peter’s heartbeat pulsing in his veins.

“After you,” Tony mumbled, his chest heaving as he watched Peter walk in front of him, the articulation of his step hitched a bit from the stiffness in his pants. His steps were quick and the view from behind was nice – a good enough distraction to get him from the lab, into the elevator, and then down the hall where he grabbed Peter’s hand and pulled him along.

The slamming of the door in his bedroom was more satisfying than he figured something small like that had the right to be. Peter’s breath hitched when Tony’s eager fingers slipped under the edge of the soft t-shirt covering the long limbs he’d been thinking about for months. It got caught on Peter’s ear as Tony pulled it off, both of them laughing. “I can’t believe this is happening,” Peter admitted, pupils blown wide.

Tony grinned, the tips of his fingers trailing down the hard planes of Peter’s sides – “It’s real – I’m real,” Tony answered, his hand grabbing Peter’s and placing it over the hardness trying to escape the confines of his jeans. “That’s for you.” He let a chuckle slip, the reaction of Peter’s hand tightening on his crotch surprising him.

They made quick work of clothes after that, Tony kissing him breathless between the unbuttoning of his shirt buttons and the fumbling it took to get shoes, pants, and briefs off. Peter ended up in the middle of the bed, Tony settled between his spread legs. “Touch yourself. Steve may be enhanced, but I know what it’s like to feel good,” Tony’s voice dropped, his eyes wandering over every single inch of Peter stretched out below him.

Peter didn’t wait to do what he said, long fingers wrapping around a thick erection before Tony even finished speaking. His grip was tight, Tony taking stock in the way he slid his hand from the head to the base, and the flick of his wrist on the upstroke. Dark eyelashes flickered, the edges of them just barely moving along the edge of Peter’s cheek.

Without saying anything, Tony let the fingers of his right-hand trail along the inside of Peter’s thighs. He kept the touch light, the skin pebbling with his caress. “The best part of what you’re doing is the build-up. It starts with the littlest itch. You grasp on and try to itch, but the pressure you’re using isn’t enough,” Tony flattened his hand, his palm running down the front of Peter’s balls. They were slightly hairy and drawn up – the sheen of sweat on Peter’s skin telling him just how much Peter seemed to be enjoying the tease.

Gripping both of Peter’s balls in his hand, Tony gave a tug and rolled them between his fingers. “So, you grip a little harder and move your hand a little faster – it’s the sweet combination of pleasure-pain, the relief of almost curing the itch and the slightest dig of your fingernails into your skin.” Tony let his left-hand wrap around his own length, the tip completely drenched in precum.

Tony slipped his hand from Peter’s balls down his perineum and in between his cheeks, his finger tracing around the tight rim of his asshole. Peter’s hand was moving quickly over himself, his eyes wide as he tried to stave off an orgasm and catch every move of Tony’s hand that he could. “You should cum, Pete. Finally scratch that itch.” Tony’s finger pressed ever so slightly against the rim as he spoke, the tip barely slipping inside. “Cum, Pete.”

The clench of Peter’s muscles was almost enough to pull Tony over the edge with him – Peter’s hand was flying over his length, the start of his orgasm splashing against the bottom of his stomach, then pooling between the ab and pec complex up towards his chest. Tony’s name dripped from his lips, Peter’s free hand fumbling around until he grasped bare skin.

It took a couple more strokes for Tony to follow him over the edge, the sight of Peter’s cum coating his own stomach and the blissed-out expression on his face more than enough to fuel Tony’s fire for a long time to come.

Without much thought, Tony collapsed on Peter’s chest, their legs tangling. He didn’t care about the cum that smeared against his skin when he moved in to press a kiss to already swollen lips – Tony hoped to spend many days covered in Peter’s cum and sweat. Now that the dam was broken, there’d be no holding back the feelings he tried his best to keep under control.

Peter’s arms wrapped tightly around him, Tony feeling the boy’s sigh from his position against his chest. His skin was warm and slick – the softness of it a contrast that made Tony want to hunker down and be surrounded by it forever.

#starker #ironspider #bobbie writes #prompts #starkerscoop

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chocolatequeennk · 4 years ago

Text

Forever Timeless, 4/23

Summary: Two months after the Dalek Crucible, the Doctor and Rose are getting used to having the biggest family on Earth. As they visit Leadworth in 1996, Victorian England, a mysterious desert planet, and Elizabethan England, those family and friends often help in unexpected ways. But no matter where they go or who they’re with, it’s always the Doctor in the TARDIS with RoseTyler–just as it should be.

Ten x Rose, Donna x Lee

Betaed by @saecookie, @rudennotgingr, @pellaaearien, and @jabber-who-key

Tagging @doctorroseprompts for Doctor/Rose content

Part 7 of Being to Timelessness

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3

Chapter Four: At Last

The Doctor looked at Lee as the TARDIS spun slowly in the Vortex. “I’ve got the coordinates all set. Are you ready to see Donna again?”

Lee nodded. “Please.”

The Doctor flipped the lever, and the time rotor moved up and down with its typical grinding, wheezing sound. Lee shook his head, amazement etched across his features. He studied the TARDIS like someone who’d heard about them all his life and couldn’t believe he was finally seeing one.

“Just n-never thought I would be inside a TARDIS,” he explained when Rose looked at him questioningly.

Rose reached out and patted the central column. “Put on a good show for him, dear.”

The TARDIS lights flashed, and they spun through time and space at a dizzying speed. The ship landed hard enough to send them all to the grating. Everyone laughed, no one harder than Lee.

The Doctor jumped up and brushed himself off. “Let’s go see what Donna and Jenny are up to,” he said, jogging up the ramp.

Rose’s phone chimed, and the Doctor had a sinking feeling he knew what the incoming message said. He waited for Rose to read it, and her sigh confirmed his fears.

“Oi, Sunshine. When we said a week, we meant an Earth week, as in seven days. You’re late.”

“Oh… this is bad.” The Doctor ran his hand through his hair. He could already feel the bleach burning his scalp.

“What’s wrong?” Lee asked.

“We landed a day later than we promised to meet Jenny and Donna,” Rose said as she typed out the text and hit send. She looked up in time to see Lee smile and shake his head. “What?”

“Just imaging Donna’s reaction.”

oOoOo

Donna was in the middle of telling Jenny exactly what she planned to say to the Doctor when her phone chimed with a text notification.

“Oh, that better be them,” she muttered as she fished it out of her purse.

Sorry we’re late, Rose said. We brought something for you.

Donna snorted. “If they think some little rinky-dink souvenir is going to make me forget they actually did strand us, they need to think again.” She picked up her bag and tossed a note on the table to cover the bill. “Come on, Jenny.”

They could see the TARDIS from the edge of the park, and Donna unconsciously picked up her pace. At the moment, she couldn’t tell if she were more eager to be home, or to give the Doctor a piece of her mind. Either way, she was glad to see the TARDIS.

When they were about ten feet away, the Doctor stuck his head out of the TARDIS. “Are you coming?” he asked.

Donna stopped and put her hand on her hip. “Oi, don’t get shirty with me, Spaceman,” she told him. “What did I tell you about not leaving us stranded in Barcelona? You’re just lucky the hotel had a vacancy so we could keep our room for another night—and lucky Jenny was positive you would only be a day or two late.”

An amused chuckle cut off Donna’s tirade, and she whirled around to tell the innocent bystander exactly where he could put his busybody nose.

But the sight of a familiar face drew her up short. “Lee!” she gasped. Then she put her hands over her mouth, for once in her life completely speechless.

“Hello, D- D- Donna.”

The stuttering broke through her shock, and she ran to him, reaching out to touch his face, his hair, anything just to convince herself he was really there.

Her hands finally settled on his shoulders, and she clung to him just as she had in their last moments together in the Library. “Oh God, oh God. Is this real?”

“You’re real,” Lee said, holding her just as desperately. “I hoped you were real.”

“I found you. I promised I’d find you, and I did. I found you.”

Donna pulled back and cupped his face between her hands. “But… how? And where?”

“I got t- t- trapped,” he explained. “Between worlds.”

“When we activated the transmat at the Library, the Reality Bomb was in full effect,” the Doctor explained.

Donna tore her gaze away from Lee to pay attention to his explanation.

“And Lee’s transmat beam, unfortunately, got caught in the Void—the space between the universes. He was literally stuck in a crack between worlds. Somehow, the crack opened up in the bedroom of a little girl in 1996, which was where we found Lee.”

A shiver ran down Donna’s spine. “I thought you said all of that was repairing itself. Closing back up like it had never happened.”

The Doctor tugged on his ear. “Strictly speaking, it didn’t happen. Not in this timeline. Mickey and Pete and Jackie were only able to hop through because Pete’s World ran ahead of ours, and things hadn’t yet—”

“I asked about Lee, not the whole bloody universe.”

He cleared his throat. “Right. Sorry. Welllll… the crack was closing when we found Lee. But he’s here now!” he said quickly, before she could react.

Donna pulled Lee into a hug. “I can’t believe I came so close to losing you,” she whispered. His hand stroked her hair, and she had to swallow back tears. “I spent so long looking for you…”

Rose caught Jenny’s eye and gestured towards the park. Taking the Doctor’s hand, she pulled him towards the trees, trusting their daughter to follow.

oOoOo

Lee closed his eyes and rested his head on top of Donna’s. Her whispered confession eased one concern he’d had—that what they’d had in the Library had all been a lie.

Up until then, he’d felt a bit like he was on a first date, sweaty palms and all. But now… “I was sent to the Library to find out what happened. Instead I found you.”

Donna stepped back half a step and looked up at him. “What do you mean, you were sent?”

He lowered his voice and leaned in. “I’m a Time Agent,” he told her quietly.

“You mean Rose was right?” Donna exclaimed.

Lee chuckled. “Yes, she was.” He frowned. “I apparently spent 100 years in the Library’s mainframe, and I still don’t know what happened.”

Donna smiled and took his hand. “Well I can answer that,” she said. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

“We were supposed to have a quiet day in,” Donna started. “I was painting my toes, Jenny was reading, and Rose was painting. Then the Doctor came in and told us to get ready to go…”

Lee listened raptly to the tale, from the message on the psychic paper to the surprise strangers arriving in the Library to the lights suddenly going out.

He sucked in a breath when Donna repeated the Doctor’s warning. “Count the shadows.”

“Vashta Nerada,” he breathed.

Donna rolled her eyes. “Of course you’ve heard of them.” She sighed. “Am I always going to be the only one who doesn’t know things?”

Lee blinked at her. This insecurity… It hadn’t been there in the Library. But maybe the program of the computer had given her the confidence she apparently lacked. It had certainly made other changes, like making his stutter even worse than it was in reality.

Donna took a breath and continued the story. “So, one of the crew was taken. Eaten, I guess. And as soon as the Doctor knew how big of a threat it was, he wanted to send me and Jenny back to the TARDIS to be safe. He dragged us into the little shop, with the transmat pad by the door.”

Lee nodded. That was when their story began, then.

oOoOo

The Doctor wrapped his arm around Rose’s shoulder as they walked the paths in the park. They’d taken off in the opposite direction of Donna and Lee, with Jenny walking beside them, telling them all about their week long holiday.

The Doctor held Rose close as he thought about the other couple and wondered how things were going for them. He remembered how devastated Donna had been when she’d gotten back from the pocket universe in the Library computer. She’d had the life she’d always wanted, but it had been fake.

Hopefully Lee can make it real this time, Rose said, following his train of thought.

He hummed in agreement. I hope so. I just… He took a moment to soak in everything they had—each other, their bond, their daughter walking with them. Donna deserves all of this, too.

Rose stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re very sweet sometimes,” she whispered.

Her phone beeped before he could reply. Rose checked the text, but all three of them had turned back towards the TARDIS as soon as they heard the chime, guessing what the message was.

oOoOo

Rose smiled when she caught sight of the couple. They were sitting across from each other at a picnic table, holding hands.

It looks like Donna’s worries that the real Lee might not care about her didn’t come true.

The Doctor hummed. Yep. Oh, I’m glad.

Donna saw them first and she jumped up. “About time you got back here,” she snarked. “Although I shouldn’t be surprised you’re late… don’t think I’ve forgotten you were a whole day late getting here.” She gestured at the Doctor’s head. “Nice platinum blonde, I think.”

“But… you…” The Doctor gestured vaguely between Donna and Lee. “I had a good reason for being late! And aren’t you glad the TARDIS took us to Leadworth to find him?”

Donna’s teasing expression faded to happiness. “Yeah. All right, you’re off the hook this time, Spaceman. But next time…” She raised an eyebrow meaningfully.

“So, are we ready to go back to Cardiff?” Jenny asked. “I bet Gran is wondering where we are.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Mum will find something to mutter about, no matter when we arrive. But, as long as we don’t need to make any stops first…”

She looked at Donna and Lee. “You’re certainly welcome to come with us, Lee. We have a few friends who might be very interested to meet you, actually. I understand if you aren’t up for meeting a whole group of new people today, though. We could drop you and Donna off somewhere and come back after the party, if you’d rather.”

Lee shook his head. “I’ll come with you.”

“Excellent!” The Doctor, still worried about his hair, darted to the TARDIS and unlocked the door. “Come on them, what are we waiting for?”

“I was going to say that your mother-in-law’s anger at you missing the party would be punishment enough, but you’ll just natter on about how this is a time machine.” Donna pursed her lips. “And you’ll be able to get us back in time without her even knowing we were almost late. It’s almost not fair.”

“Jackie’s stubborn refusal to grasp the basics of time travel can be frustrating, but it does have its advantages,” the Doctor agreed.

oOoOo

The Doctor watched his little entourage as he and Rose flew the TARDIS back to Cardiff. Donna was watching Lee like she thought he was going to disappear again, and he had her hand clasped firmly in his own.

Jenny sat on the jump seat, watching the two of them. The Doctor tilted his head and studied his daughter. There was something… off in the way she was holding herself.

Let’s take Jenny for a trip on her own as soon as we can, he suggested to Rose.

Rose turned slightly to watch Jenny for a moment, and then she nodded.

Their landing was soft, and Rose led the way to the top of the ramp. “Time to visit family,” she told everyone. “Lee… I know you agreed to come, but please don’t feel like you need to spend time with my mum. I love her, but she can be… a lot.”

Lee smiled reassuringly. “I’m pretty sure I’ve met people more difficult than your mum, Rose.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” the Doctor muttered under his breath.

Rose glared at him, and he smiled unrepentantly back. They both knew that the faux antagonistic vibe between him and Jackie was all for show… Well, mostly.

“All right,” he said, gesturing for them all to leave the ship. “If we don’t get out there now, she’ll be banging on the door wondering why we’re staying in this box.”

Rose opened the door and started laughing when she saw her mum halfway to them.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Jackie said. “I don’t know why you’d want to stay in that box when the party is inside.”

Rose stepped outside and moved aside so everyone else could exit the TARDIS. Jackie’s eyes lit on Lee, and Rose nodded. “Donna brought a plus one, if that’s okay.”

Jackie smiled. “Of course! Now come on, the party is nearly started.” She turned and led the way back to the front door.

A car pulled into the drive as they were walking inside, and Rose raised her eyebrows when she realised that Martha and Mickey had arrived together. The Doctor had told her about the timelines he had noticed, but she hadn’t really given it much thought.

The two groups met at the front door and entered the house together. “It’s about time you all got here,” Jack called from the living room. “I was starting…”

His voice trailed off when he caught sight of Lee. “Well hello,” he said. “Jack Harkness, and you are…”

“Not interested,” Donna said firmly. “This is Lee. Lee McAvoy. We met at the Library.”

Rose covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile at Donna’s clever wording, but to her surprise, Jack’s gaze sharpened.

“Lee McAvoy? At the Library?” he said, emphasising the article.

Donna looked back and forth between the two men. “Oh right,” she said after a minute. “Jack used to be a Time Agent, too.”

“Yeah, and I remember hearing about an agent who was lost in the whole quarantine of the Library.” He looked at the Doctor. “You know, I actually wondered about Lee here when you told us you’d been to the Library. But I assumed if you didn’t mention him that you hadn’t met.”

He looked at Donna, then at her hand clasped in Lee’s. “I guess I was asking the wrong person,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

“Jaaaaack,” the Doctor said, exasperated.

“You know, I’ve heard of Jack Harkness, too,” Lee interjected.

Jack leaned forward. “Oh yeah? The tales of my greatness go before me?”

Lee shook his head soberly, bur Rose noticed a glimmer in his eyes. “N-no. The tales of your…” He opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Of your nakedness.”

The whole group burst into laughter. “He’s got you there, Captain Cheesecake,” Mickey said, pounding the man on the back.

“Why are you naked in all the stories, Mr. Jack?” a very young voice asked.

Rose bit her lip and looked down at her little brother, who had snuck into the room when no one had noticed. Oh dear, she thought, looking at the unamused expression on her mum’s face.

“Oh really?” Jackie said as she picked up Tony. “What kind of stories have you been telling my little boy, Harkness?”

She ignored Jack’s incoherent sputtering and wheeled on Pete. “And you, Mister. We’ll be talking about you taking Tony with you to work.” She swept out of the room, and everyone let out collective breath.

“I see what you mean, Rose,” Lee offered, and the tension broke into laughter.

Jenny slipped away from the group, making her way to the kitchen. Pete was pulling dishes out of the cupboards. “Can I help set the table?” she said, guessing what he was up to.

“Of course.”

They each picked up a stack of dishes and carried them into the dining room. As they laid plates around the table, Jenny felt her granddad watching her.

“Jackie tells me Donna brought a plus one tonight,” he said after a few minutes.

Jenny’s hand clenched around the knives she held. “Yeah. Lee McAvoy. They were married in a parallel universe, and we’ve been trying to find him.”

Pete nodded; he understood different universes and different lives better than anyone. “I’m glad Donna was able to find him. She’s seemed a little sad this summer.”

Jenny sighed. Donna had been sad, which made her own upset that much more selfish. “Yeah,” she said quietly.

They finished setting the table, and then Jenny followed Pete back into the kitchen. “Of course,” he said, “Lee joining your group changes the dynamics a bit, doesn’t it?”

Jenny bit her lip, then let everything she was feeling spill out. “Yeah. Mum and Dad, and Donna and Lee. And then me. Just Jenny. I’m the fifth wheel.”

She dropped onto a bench and slouched. “I don’t fit anymore.”

Pete held out a hand and pulled her to her feet. “Then you have to find a way to make yourself fit,” he said firmly. “Come on; dinner is just about ready.”

oOoOo

After supper had been cleared from the table, the Doctor clapped his hands. “All right everyone, may I have your attention!”

“Oh, we’d better listen to him, or he’ll find a way to blow up the dining room or something,” Jackie said sardonically. Everyone else laughed.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “If you’re done taking the mick—”

“Never,” Mickey said.

“Then maybe,” he continued, raising his voice a little, “you’d like to hear my new safety resolution.”

“Oh, for—” Jackie took a large gulp of her wine. “I’m going to regret this, but let’s hear it.”

“Thank you, Jackie.” Finally, everyone quieted and gave him their full attention. “All of you have travelled with us at one time or another, and most of you have had the… let’s say the misfortune of being stranded.”

Mickey nodded. “On a spaceship in eighteenth century France.”

“Quite right, Mickey Smith. And now, we’re all going our separate ways, to a certain extent. Some of us are in Cardiff,” he gestured at Pete and Jack, “Some in London,” Mickey and Martha, “And some of you might not even live in this time.” This to Lee. “And since we all seem to find trouble more easily than most, I’d like to offer… let’s call it a safety button.”

“What are you thinking, Doctor?” Martha asked. “Project Indigo was completely dismantled by UNIT when the Earth was put back where it belonged.”

Jack held up the wrist that had his vortex manipulator. “I’ve got my own safety button.”

Lee reached into his back pocket and pulled out an identical device. “Me t-t-too.”

“Where did you get that?” Donna exclaimed.

Lee pointed at himself. “T-t-t…” He paused and took a breath. “Time Agent,” he said, forcing the words out.

The Doctor interrupted before Donna insisted on a full history of where he’d been hiding his Vortex Manipulator this whole time. “Excellent, the two of you are covered then. But for the rest of you, what I’m about to suggest is the next best thing.”

The soft murmur of conversation around the table stopped and everyone looked at him. The Doctor nodded and launched into his explanation.

“The TARDIS and I have been working on a little project.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out ten thin pieces of wire. “These are homing beacons. I’ll just install these in your mobile phones under the battery. If you’re ever in trouble and need us to come get you, just press and hold 9 and it’ll activate the beacon.”

“I hate to admit it,” Jackie said, “but that’s actually a good idea.”

Everyone around the table nodded and pulled their phones out. The Doctor rolled his eyes at Jackie, but went to work on installing the homing beacons onto all of the phones, working down the line.

The last phone on the table was a plastic toy mobile. He looked down at his young brother-in-law, staring up at him with all the seriousness a three-year-old could muster. “I wanna be able to call you too, Doctor.”

The Doctor ruffled the boy’s hair. “Absolutely, Tony Tyler.” He picked up the toy and pointed the sonic screwdriver at it, letting the sound fill the room for a few seconds before he stopped. Then he handed the toy back to Tony.

“There you go. One Tony Tyler homing beacon, ready to go.”

The nanny, who had been waiting at the doorway, came in and held her hand out. “Come on, Tony, you got to talk to the Doctor like you wanted. It’s time for your bath now.”

“Night, Doctor! Night Rosie!”

“Oh, I don’t warrant a good night,” Jackie said, but the Doctor was fairly certain she sounded less irritated than usual.

Sally, the housekeeper, brought out coffee and tea and placed them on the sidebar. Jackie smiled and thanked her, then looked at the group.

“As long as we’re all making announcements, I’ve got one of my own. You’re all invited to our place for Christmas. We’ve got plenty of room for all of you, if we pull out the couches.”

Mickey and Martha both started shaking their heads. “We can’t get that long off,” Mickey said. “We’ll be doing good to get out here for dinner and back to London before we’re expected to be at work the next day.”

“Oh, come on,” Jackie wheedled. “It won’t be the same without you.”

The Doctor got an idea, and after gaining Rose’s approval, he spoke up. “There is a way we could have a holiday house party and still get everyone to work on time the next day.”

“How’s that, boss?”

Martha got it immediately, though. “If we leave the current timeline for the week, right Doctor?”

He nodded. “We could take everyone off-world for a holiday trip. Pick you all up on the 23rd, say, and then bring you back the next morning. Not only do you get a few days’ holiday, you’ll still have Christmas Day at home to catch up on laundry or whatever.”

“I’m not spending our first Christmas together in a hotel on some strange alien planet,” Jackie protested.

“But we could rent a house,” Rose told her. “You could do all the grocery shopping and bring everything with you, and then you’d still get to host the party just like you wanted.”

Jackie pursed her lips. “You’ll help him find a house?” she pressed.

The Doctor rolled his eyes, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Yeah, I’ll help him.”

Jackie looked around at everyone. “Are you all okay with this?”

Mickey nodded. “It’ll be nice to get away for more than a day,” he said. “UNIT has been working us hard for the last few months, trying to clean up the mess left by the Daleks.”

“All right then,” Jackie conceded. “We’ll go away for the holiday.” She pointed at the Doctor. “But we better not end up on the planet Zhoz.”

“I’ll have you know—”

Jackie waved him off. “Come on, everyone. Get yourself a cuppa and let’s go sit down in the living room.”

oOoOo

Rose took her cuppa and went to an over-stuffed armchair tucked slightly away from the rest of the seating arrangement. She tucked her legs up underneath herself and watched her family.

Jack and Lee were swapping stories from the Time Agency. Donna was sitting pressed against Lee’s side, and every once in a while she’d interject with a story of her own from traveling on the TARDIS. Rose loved to see her newfound confidence—a year ago, she wouldn’t have felt like she had anything to add to a conversation like that.

A naked streak interrupted her observations. Rose jumped up when she realised the streak was her little brother, dripping wet from his bath. He shrieked with laughter as he darted through the living room.

“Oh, Lord,” Jackie muttered.

“I’ve got him, Mum,” Rose told her as she took chase.

It wasn’t hard to track the little boy. If the puddles of water hadn’t given him away, the constant giggling would have. She caught up with him just before he opened the back door to run out into the garden.

“Oh no you don’t, mister,” she said, scooping him up. “Come on, time to go to bed.”

She waved at Pete and Jenny, who were trying not to laugh. “And apologise to Dad for interrupting him and Jenny,” she instructed.

“Sorry, Daddy!” Tony shouted.

“You’re forgiven, Tiger.” Pete stood up and kissed Tony on the forehead. “Now be nice to Anna. She’s getting her exercise in today.”

The winded nanny smiled tiredly. “Thank you, Mr. Tyler.” She took Tony from Rose. “Come on, young man. It’s bed time for all streaking toddlers.”

“What’s streaking?” Tony asked as they left the room.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Rose, Pete, and Jenny burst out laughing.

When Rose reentered the living room, Jack was leaning back on the couch, a gleeful smirk on his face. “And now I’m not the only one with a naked story.”

#ficandchips #ten x rose #dwfic #fic by Nancy #doctorroseprompts #donna x lee #the reunion we've all been waiting for!#plus lots of hijinks at the Tyler party #Tony Tyler is a ham and steals the show every time

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psychemeanscure · 4 years ago

Text

PART 8

“Holy Sh*t. Jang! Did you just--- Urgh! You bastardo.”

A surprised curse blurts out into her mouth definitely, the moment she led her unprepared eyes upon the arrogant Jang Taeyoung who is just confidently came in to the room where she is. Only to receive an exasperating awe which also halts his steps for a second through its closet. Doubting eyes now landed to her. “Did I heard it right? You just cursed in English? That’s new eh?”

His very random casualty anyhow which she straightly did not entertain. Him who is finally settling a chosen cloth putting it for a bit on the backrest of his dressing table chair. while she in the other hand has to deal with it as usual. He’s only wearing a bathrobe, for Pete’s sake! She can’t still even oblige herself to turn her head to look at him. Waking up in an unfamiliar room was already a bewilderment for her, what more with this loco she is with. She almost seen half of his--- “Aish! Can you please wear something already?!” only answered by a smirk which she obviously unseen.

“Wait? Are you shy? What a news. So, Sung Eunyoung still knows how to get nervous, huh?”

Thus, she had no choice but to face him with a frowning look, remembering to seek her own confusions. “Tsk. Happy? Where am I anyway? And why am I with this thing?” pertaining to the IV inserted in her wrist certainly, as her gaze wanders to him who’s reaching a first aid kit from a bedside table.

“To detox the drug in you. And for the record, you’re in my penthouse.”

His firm answer indeed while she was shock, undecided between which she must confirm first. “What?” the sensible remark she can only utter then. Eyes still following onto him who’s now setting himself to grab a seat beside her on the bed. “Which of the two did you mean by that? I can’t follow.” Him who’s starting to get a cotton and sanitizer from the kit, which also led for the appearance of her anxiousness that she was now totally agitated settling her eyes between his movement and to her IV, including her unsettled answer as well.

“T-the pent--- I mean the drug. I was drug?!” her stuttering success words somehow, but not long enough to get her nervous the moment he finally holds her forearm that she quickly moves back. “Hey, what are you doing?” her prudent fight indeed, only to be hold back by him. “I’ve been doing this on my own, Sung Eunyoung. Trust me.”

Just to be answered by her hesitating groan, still. “Are you sure? Can’t you at least call a doctor instead?” thus a frustrating sigh went into him totally. “Seriously, woman? Who do you think settled this dammit Intravenous, and the hell who shot you a tranquilizer during your influence, huh?”

“You shot me a what?!” obviously another surprise for her. “You heard it. So, are we settled then?” only proceeded by her surrendering hum. “Good. Tss. You stubborn volatile.” His last statement then, before cautiously performing the removal of the IV. Not when he heard a whimper from her though who’s actually avoiding her eyes from her wrist. Reason for his little laugh as well. “You’re afraid after all. Is it blood or needle?” holding her temper not to explode. “Shut up. Just finish what you are doing will you?”

Only to hear another laugh from him. Somehow take the courage to look at him though, as she only notices the usual brushed up hair of him is on a hair down bangs for a while. ‘He looks good.’ As what her thoughts says otherwise. Later landed to the glimpse of his tattoos especially by the lower part of his neck. ‘se---‘

“I might melt anytime soon, Sung Eunyoung… You don’t have too fluster me, I already know I’m erotic.”

Before she could piece her second thought obviously, he already concluded it right. That she had to only clear her throat and avoid his gaze instead. Before deciding to dodge it by another reopening topic. “Uh. Hm. Right, tell me how did I got influenced then. What drug was it?” only to be answered by his hidden smirk as he welcomes to give her details.

“Ecstasy. So basically, the filthy Spanish dimwit poured a powder type in your drink and you carelessly bite it. The end.”

As if his tale-like story telling that he already expected the disbelief reaction to her who only manage to glance by her reflection through the window glass, out of frustration.

“Jesus. It literally slipped on my mind. He probably did it when I was focused to the gift h--- wait? Speaking of, where was i---“

“Burned.”

Somehow satisfied from what he did. “Ah. Okay.” That she just casually answered without objection. But to him was a bit unexpected. “I actually thought you’ll disagree. But after learning from you today, well I like it though. Good to know.” And with the last touch from the cotton and plaster tape on her wrist. He’s finally finished. “I did something crazy, aren’t I?”

Just to receive a sly smirking smile from him, as he even tilting his head for teases. “Want to go on details as well?” understanding his remark perhaps that her hair should be disheveled. Promptly realizing the white shirt and checkered pajama on her that surely his. As she was now fuming mad with the man beside her. “You take advantage of me?!”

Fully her accusations indeed after hastily throwing a pillow to his face. “Great. What a word for a thank you.” As he helplessly reached the thrown pillow somehow and putting it back on the bed. “Listen, woman. I honestly did not. Well fine, almost. And upon mine you were wearing, I called assistance. Now, does it answer your madness then?”

Crossing his arms as he gave the straight explanations to her. Only to see the doubting look on her, still. Cause by his aggravating sigh. “Do I now have to call for CCTV personnel?” scoffing in the end as she just chose to believe his words. Thus, he stands up after closing the first aid kit and place it back where it belonged.

“Anyhow. I had to go somewhere for a bit. I already called room service for your breakfast, though. You’ll just have to open the door for them. Unless you’re in a diet…” thus his quick reflexes of changing his clothes began that she had to curse him again as she just decided to went out of his bedroom first instead. Than implanting malicious images she never wished to see anyway. Loud banging of the door definitely, proceeding with her series of curses. “Urgh! This maldito bastardo, really.” Only to be answered by a laughter from him once more.

As she went nowhere to his living room couch. Frowning eyes still focused to the cursed room she went out. “Tss. This bastardo really get on my nerves. Aish.” Her last call of complains finally, before chooses to just wander her eyes to the features of his penthouse somehow. For it was also her first time to be inside it. Truly it is, for she always refused his invites. The hell will she dared too. Thus, she starts to stand up from the couch, roaming herself to each corner of his living room with the crossing of her arms, as if a critique meticulously rules on every aspect of it. From the structure of its walls, design of selected artworks, to the bookshelves, until a pit stop to his window glass. Giving the answers of her opinions. “Hm. Not bad.”

“Of course! Why would it be?”

Just to hear the boasting remark of the owner who seems good to go, after buttoning a last button from his coat sleeves. Too late to regret her compliments. “So a Jang Taeyoung knows to read somehow, huh?” her motioning to the pile of books in a way. “Uh. That? Nah. Just for display purposes. You don’t have to fall in love. Are you?”

That she had to rolled her eyes with his nonsense schemes. “Just go, please.” The dullness of her words certainly. “Wow. I was not informed that my penthouse has a new owner, eh?” thus, his sarcasm came in. “Big word, as if you’re not doing it well with my apartment.”

Satisfied by the raising of his arms of surrendering. “Fine, I lost. Jeez you, woman. You really have your way of words I can’t seem to defeat.” As he starts to push the up icon of his private elevator, with a freehand in its pockets. “Bye! I shall return. Don’t worry, I won’t take long. Be good to my penthouse. Alright, Love?”

As much as she hurries to protest by his last word, she’s too late anyway for the doors of the elevator already closed with the sly winking man inside it. That she only walks back with a frustrating shaking head. Not long enough after remembering her little disappointment a while ago, unconsciously turning her head to the closed elevator again.

“He looks better with a hair down, tho--- Aish! Am I really thinking about that? Urgh.”

Her reproaches to herself definitely, after shaking her head again as she chooses to continue exploring his penthouse anyway while waiting for the room service to arrive. Later on take a minute before it finally came, that she can even decipher the discerning eyes of the service crew as if implying something she surely know. “If you’re done, you’re good to go.” A superiority coldness from her words indeed, just enough to scare an already nervous crew, which she did not fail to give an intimidating look the moment it went out.

“Mierda! So, I had to suffer for misjudgment now? Great. Just great.”

Her last complains definitely, before settling to the food served for her. And when she’s in the middle of biting the last variant of fruits, a small opening from somewhere caught her attention that she even takes its saucer and fork with her as she steps into it. Just to be astonished upon learning what’s through it.

A better view of the mesmerizing sky and busy streets of the city. That she wished she could see during the night. Capturing every futuristic structures. Not when her eyes landed to its indoor pool situated on the center though. That she intuitively frowns with the thoughts of him bringing different b*tches for his satisfaction. Thus, without any second thoughts, she swiftly avoids her gaze to it, not liking to feed her thoughts with much scandalous one. Thankful for her eyes to find a much intriguing view. As she decides to put off the saucer and fork on to a wooden deck chair just beside her. Walking her steps towards a wall to later take off the satin cloth covered on it.

A pastel portrait of Jang Taeyoung that is too good to be one. For she almost considered it a photo. Clasping her hands to her back as she somehow studied the intricate wave of lines of it that she began to get curious of its texture and was about to touch it.

“Loving your view?”

Only to be cut by the devil who’s obviously just came back from his agenda. That she had to turn her back to the portrait and unwillingly face the latter who had just use her fork to pick a fruit from her saucer on the wooden deck chair. “Not really.” Chooses to slip her disapproval by his actions, instead, and just better entertain his questions. “Why?” his itching question while she tends to point to her back, again.

“Well, did this man tell you how I’ve been discriminated by a service crew as if I’m one of your bicha, huh? Cabrón?”

Only to accused the innocent portrait indeed. Leaving him in awe somehow. “See? That’s the result of your everyday refusal with my invites. They could have been familiar to you by now if you at least agree just once.” That she only gives in a rejecting snort. “No thanks still, Mr. Jang.”

“Oh, come on. Again?”

“Since I can tell how many b*tches you already brought and claim with this dirty pool of yours. And you still expect me to come?”

Pouting with the thought truly, as he even gazed his eyes to the thing. “Well I can’t argue with that, though. Do you want me to move out, then?” that confusions crept her. “Eh? And what does it have to do with me? Do what you want, why need my permission, Loco. You have money enough to waste.”

That the only thing he could do is snap in the air. “Right. What am I expecting even? Tss. Here, at least.” That’s where she noticed two paper bags in his hands as he offers one to her. Somehow understood her questioning gaze onto it that he seemed oblige to answer in some way. “Your cloth from yesterday. I handed it to the laundry last night. In case you want to retrieve it?”

Just a reason for her sudden irritation in a way. “Trash that. I can only remember what the coño kid did to me. Urgh.” Thus a satisfying smirk paved his way. “I knew it. A new one it is.” Him, swapping it with the other one then, as she seems contented by his guts. “Thank you.” Accepting the offer indeed by means of her starting walking ahead of him to finally change. Remembering something she almost forgot to ask. “Right. By any chance. Did you manage to---“

“Don’t worry. We already solved the mess, Ms. Sung.”

Cut by her words obviously, but somehow relieve by his answer. “Good. I thought I---“

“Almost forgot to remind you as well that the next time you wear revealing clothes, don’t expect me to be a good boy. Understand, hm? Love?”

Had to gasp an unexpected certainly, for she did not expect his sudden move, hugging her from behind as soon as she went out of the changing room. In means of feeling his rubbing thumb on the navel part of her body. Worst when he leans to kiss the back of her earlobe, that she had to grip to his hold for a while as support to her unravel stance and close her eyes like it’s the best sensation she ever had, to later silently curse herself with the thought. If this is the aftermath of her influence, then screwed up! She really hated it totally. By means she had to fight it in any way. With a gritting teeth and stern look, she succeeded surely.

“Get your hold out of me before you meet your destiny behind bars, Jang Taeyo---“

“Want to take revenge with the dimwit somehow? I can be a help though.”

The supposed to be frustration from cutting her words only replaced by a tempting welcome from the offer he suggested. “How?” too late to regret her move of turning her head to face him, as she forgot they were still close to each other. Opposite to how he desirably stares to her lips. Meeting his sly expression again. “Now, you’re all ears.” His only remark before miraculously just let go of her without urging for teases like he always do. Except for the smirk, maybe. Thank God still, as the thought of punishing someone excites her for no reason.

#kim soo hyun #seo ye ji #seo yea ji #psycho but it's okay #itsokaynottobeokay #its okay not to be okay #moon gang tae #ko mun yeong #korean actor #korean actress #realkoreanmovie #real #hyunji #hyunjicouple #sung eun young #jang tae young #jangtaeyeong #by quantum physics #quantum physics

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