#also just old panic in general with or without peter is SO GOOD

[tombstoneswerewaiting]

infinity on high vs vices and virtues part 2

[part 1]

[nephriteknight]

so a while back i made a post about what my blorbos' playstyles would be like in botc/social deduction games in general, and at the time i didn't include tma because they have so much highly specific trauma and dangerous eldritch appetites that this would be terrible for, but i just can't stop thinking about the very silly scenario where the tma characters play botc together. it would go so badly.

the banned character list includes fortune teller, spy, snake charmer, oracle, evil twin, vigormortis, no dashii, pacifist, cannibal, cult leader, fisherman, pixie, golem, plague doctor, organ grinder, and ojo, because elias keeps cheating. ojo and oracle somehow keep ending up in the bag anyway.

daisy gets way too into hunting down the demon. Guns Will Be Drawn.

jon and tim handle this game Extremely Predictably. i just know s1 tim would adore botc but s3 tim is having an awful time. oh great yeah one of our friends is a shape shifting demon lying to our faces? perfect. jon is on the verge of a panic attack but instead of breaking down he's just interrogating everyone very aggressively. hey, at least everyone believes he's on the good team.

basira solves the game right away and spends the rest of the game trying to convince everyone else. only georgie believes her.

martin is very good at being evil in these kinds of games (and also benefits from people not expecting him to be good at it), so when he pulls the demon he could demolish good, but, uh, he's honestly not sure jon could handle that right now so he gets caught on purpose without letting anyone else realize he threw.

elias insisted peter would attend and he did not in fact show. luckily no one believed he would come so it's not really a problem. ("you called it a 'social deduction' game, elias, it's in the name! no i'm not coming--")

...annabelle's the storyteller? i mean. she obviously would if she was there. i feel like sasha gives me st vibes as well but i might just be projecting again.

multiple games are ruined because jon accidentally compels the demon to tell him their role. one of those was not fully an accident.

simon is having a grand old time but he really doesn't give a shit about winning/the game which is less of a problem when he's good but very much a problem for his teammates when he's evil.

melanie draws the psychopath "by chance" several times and enjoys it way too much. daisy handles an outed evil player whom town can't easily execute exactly as poorly as you'd expect. i cannot emphasize enough how unlikely it is that canon team archives could play this game without at least one person getting hurt, killed, or giving in to the dark powers completely.

helen is eating it all up. literally. (elias is still pissed that the spy got banned.) she still never outright lies, which unfortunately for everyone else but fortunately for her (and simon, who thinks its hilarious) means she can't tell outright truths when she's good either or it'll look suspicious when she's evil. no one is ever fully certain what she is or what she's doing. pure chaos and we love her for it. (we being me; team archives does not in fact love her for it.)

elias is still cheating, but when they threaten to fill the room with eyeless dolls he decides to quit while he's (not) ahead and just watch from his office like an eldritch twitch chat.

[emwritesstuff]

housesitting | bucky barnes x reader

summary: Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything.

You can hardly see how Bucky Barnes stumbling into his apartment at 3 am with multiple wounds is one of them. But I guess it might be?

notes: this is my attempt at a more ~comedy centered one-shot, with some making out in the middle because uh, who doesn’t like that? In other news, reader is Chaotic. Canon mcu (Infinity War/Endgame) is non-existent in this.  (word count: 3K)

warnings: language, mentions of blood, gunshot wounds, general patching up shenanigans, some making out/grinding but not quite third base

[PART 2: breaking and entering]

Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything. An old popsicle thing, you assume.

It’s peaceful, too. The neighborhood is nice and quiet, the other tenants are either extremely polite or too scared of Captain America to make much noise. You’ve had very nice stay-cations at his place, where you were free to choose to binge The Office while eating an entire pizza in the spam of 2 episodes or taking advantage of the quiet to write your grad-school thesis.

So when a loud BANG almost makes you drop your coffee mug on the floor, your spidey senses are immediately on alert. You don’t care how many times Peter insisted that it wasn’t a thing, your arm hairs stood up and your heart started hammering on your chest all the same.

You contemplate squeezing under the bed, turning off the show that was long abandoned and hiding until whatever it is goes away, but before you can do any of that, a string of sharp cursing and soft thumps and thuds snaps you out of your fear.

Maybe it’s a burglar. You could take a clumsy burglar, easy.

Now feeling like Tony had just welcomed you into the Avengers, you hop off Steve’s bed and let your baby Yoda socked feet carry you stealthily into the living room, holding a table lamp as if it was a baseball bat.

Everything is quiet, with no signs of forced entry at the door (you remember someone on Law and Order using those words), and in the dark you don’t notice the bloody trail coming from the kitchen.

You’re imagining things, then. When was the last time you slept? You don’t even feel tired, but you know sleep deprivation always gets you all kinds of crazy.

It happens the second your arm falls to your side and your posture shows the slight of relaxation. A strong arm around your neck and a hand against your mouth to muffle the screaming.

In the quiet of Steve’s apartment building, there is only you shrieking and howling and thrashing against the hold of a stranger.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.” You still.

And then you bite into the hand that is muting you, immediately regretting it when your teeth sink into something hard. Metal? Concrete? Ouch. You resume your resistance, determined, and is shoved away.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck are you.” His voice is gruff and dulled over the mask he is wearing, and as you’re taking this giant of a man in, you notice it.

The metal arm. The strapped leather jacket. The tortured blue eyes.

Winter Soldier.

The intruder is James “Bucky” Barnes, Steve’s best friend. That’s who the fuck it is.

“I’m Steve’s house sitter! I even have a key.” You say, with arms in front of you to signal no harm but inching closer to the table lamp with every step.

“House…sitter? Where’s Steve?”

“Who knows. Maybe a mission. He texts me, I come over.” You shrug, and put a chair back to where it was before it got knocked over.

“I don’t believe you. Where is Steve?”

“Listen, I don’t know, okay? I guess he’s just out for a few days. I don’t ask. He just lets me stay in here so I can water the plants and feed the Avengers.”

“The– the what?”

“The Avengers! The fish, see.” You point to the aquarium, where a handful of colorful fish swam peacefully in.

Peace. So much for your peace, because now what you have is a surly super soldier eyeing the fish tank like it was the most loathsome thing in the entire universe, except maybe for you.

“I hate this thing. Naming them makes it even worse.” He trudges back to the kitchen, stomping on the floor like he was on a parade.

So much for the other people’s peace, too.

“Hey! Sir. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s 3 in the fucking morning?” You sass, putting your hands on your hips when he retorts that yeah, he does know. “What are you even doing here?”

“Back from a mission.” He grumbles without looking at you, as if you’re the one who stumbled into his place in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t your place, but still.

“Don’t you have a house?” There’s a part of you that knows pushing the Winter Soldier’s buttons is asking for trouble, but your tired and confused brain decides to ignore it.

“You interrogating me? I need a motherfucking– ” He wheezes and nearly doubles over, holding on the door frame between the living room and the kitchen. You finally spot the blood, both on the tiles and seeping out of the Soldier’s jacket and pants.

He’s hurt. Shit.

“– first aid kit.”

“You need a motherfucking hospital!” You shrill, panic chilling your bones. You don’t do blood. Or any kind of wound, for that matter.

The man ignores you, opening up cabinets hastily. You huff, and walk past him to get to the actual home of the first aid kit. Steve’s oldest, closest friend and can’t even find a box with pharmaceutical supplies in his kitchen. You slam it on the counter next to him.

“You’re welcome.”

“Zip it.”

Just a look from him is enough to render you speechless, and not in the good, butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of way. You’re positive that one swat of that metal arm and you’ll be flying out of the window.

He begins by removing his mask, revealing a handsome face underneath, and you try your best to focus on how dark and menacing it looked while locked in that scowl of his. Then, he unbuckles his jacket and discards it on the floor, it coming to a stop next to your feet.

Oh man, he’s naked. Well, not really, just the incredibly toned, strong and muscular top half of him, but you stare wide-eyed as if he was.

“See somethin’ you like, doll?” He quips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you turn your back to him, mostly to hide your own embarrassment.

“No.” You cross your arms resolutely, because you definitely don’t think he’s attractive. He is a rude, grumpy, private-property-invader-bastard. Doll. Yuck.

You hear a rumble come out of his chest. Is he laughing? Shithead. Other noises follow, wheezes, small grunts and the tinkle of metal on the marble counter.

A particular pained grunt makes you turn, and you see Barnes with his body twisted, trying to reach a bloody hole on his back. It would be funny if he wasn’t trying to poke a gunshot.

“Do you need… help?” You ask, against your own will, only to be met with his icy gaze.

“No.”

“Come on, you can’t even reach that.”

Another glare is shot your way, and you quirk your brow up. He did need the help, you think, because aside from the muscles and the sweat making him glisten like a delicious – wait what – glazed donut, the man looked like hell.

“…fine.” He slides a pair of surgical prongs, something you identify in your head as oversized tweezers, and you instantly regret your offer. Pressing an iodine-soaked cotton ball to a wound, sure. But not this.

He turns his back to you without a word, supporting himself on the marble. You think that he’s about to make a dent on the goddamn stone if he keeps holding onto it that hard.

“Ah, fuck. Shit. Fuck. Ugh, it’s so gross. Fuck.”

It’s the most horrifying thing you’ve ever done, but you try your best to get to the bullet quickly, so very thankful that Barnes holds himself perfectly still for you. “Got it!”

He lets out a long breath when you toss the prongs and the bullet on the counter with the rest and resumes his cleanup. So, he’s not even going to say thanks. Great.

You try not to think about how you still want to make conversation while you hurriedly scrub the blood from your hands, because aside from the hostility and him jumping on you as a meet-cute, the guy peeks your interest.

Steve has said Barnes is nice, too, and you believed Steve, because he’s basically incapable of lying. Or maybe because he’s pretty. Both, for sure.

With your hands now clean, you turn to him, mouth open with some kind of conversation starter that is immediately forgotten.

Oh man, he’s naked. For real this time.

Bucky Barnes has stepped out of his pants while you were overthinking by the sink, now standing in only a pair of black boxers. It’s like he feels you staring at his butt, because he turns to you with raised eyebrows.

“Last one’s on my thigh. I got it.” He’s holding the prongs this time, and you’re glad you don’t have to do anything, because your face next to that groin might make you go into spontaneous combustion.

“Yeah.”

He hums. You hope all of this is a fever dream.

“Isn’t there a med bay at–”

“Don’t like people prodding and pokin’ at me.” His comment makes you grimace. He’s the Winter Soldier, damn it. You know the stories, everyone does. Of course he doesn’t like being prodded.

He looks at you funny, probably because you went dead quiet. You don’t want him to think you feel pity, because you don’t, but god don’t you feel bad for poking him now, even if verbally.

“I’m gonna – grab one of Steve’s – uh. Dude you need to put some clothes on. Jesus.”

He laughs at you again, which you’re thankful for because anything is better than the awkwardness of the other subject. You pick up a black pair of sweatpants that was so deep in one of Steve’s drawers that you know he’d have to have bought it and never had the guts to put it on. This one would do just fine.

If there is one thing Steve Rogers isn’t, is a black sweats guy.

“Here.” You deposit the sweats and a white tee on the counter, one of the millions that you found inside the closet. Barnes was patching himself up now, bandages wrapped everywhere on his body.

Got his ass kicked good. You shudder when you imagine the state of the other guy.

He eyes the clothes, and saying nothing, returns to his task. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask you to help me.”

“Yeah, but I did anyways! ‘Cause I’m stupid, I guess.” You almost hurl a dirty plate at him when he scoffs, muttering a yeah, guess you are. “God, why are you so grumpy?”

“Well you try being shot 5 times and see how cheerful you are after.”

“You got shot 5 times?!”

Looking at you from between his brows, the Soldier nods to the five mangled bullets sitting on the counter. You think about how you’ve made yourself a sandwich just hours earlier on the exact same spot. You want to puke.

Taking time to look around yourself, you can finally grasp the state of Steve’s ever-so-pristine kitchen, now a mess of dirty clothes, blood and your own few dishes from the night before. You don’t even think about what you’re doing as you move, gathering every single cleaning supply you can find, and start working on the cleanup.

You’re struggling, because obviously you’ve never done this before. Anyone can tell, from your soft abdomen and your severe lack of muscle, that you’re not an Avenger. Sure, you work with them, but you’re usually neck deep into advanced tech, not in the gym by any means. Also, you don’t do blood.

That means you have to think about something else, anything else, while you’re manically cleaning the floor. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, the Winter Soldier’s tight ass, four sheep, get it together goddamnit –

“Leave it. I’ll clean.”

You huff, he huffs back, and you look up at him.

“You got shot five times. Go sit down or something before you blow your back too, grandpa.” You call him that to assure yourself that he is old, like actually super old, and thirsting over him is weird. Even weirder when he’s all bandaged and bleeding. And still shirtless. Shit.

He mumbles something that you ignore, and stomps off. You think you actually did a pretty decent job with the cleaning, considering.

You need coffee. Definitely an entire bottle of vodka too, but there was no alcohol in this god’s good home, so you settle for the brew that you made earlier. You pour a mug for Barnes too, because you’re nice like that, and amble into the living room to find him slumped on a chair.

“Coffee?” You start, settling his mug on the table next to him.

“It’s almost 5 a.m.”

“Guess I’m up early for once. Maybe I should go for a run.”

He snorts, and opens one eye to inspect you from where he is. He reaches out for the coffee, using his metal hand, and you consider the two ways this could go.

He’d shatter the mug right then and there. Or, he’d throw it at you. Your jaw goes slack at what he actually does, sirens blaring loudly in your head. Truly astonishing, the most bewildering turn of events.

He drinks from it.

“Thanks. Quit staring at me.”

“Wow, Mr. Winter knows the magic words. Mr. Barnes. Sergeant?” You’re thinking aloud, abandoning any trace of sanity you’ve been holding. You even sit on the couch next to his armchair.

“It’s Bucky,”

Again, absolutely bewildering. You must be going insane.

“– and you talk too much.” He finishes, with an end-of-story tone, and returns to his rest. At least that felt like normality.

“Bucky. Bucky.” You roll the name on your tongue, feeling a weird buzz start to take over you. It grows stronger when you notice he’s looking at you, one brow quirked as if you lost your marbles. “You know, Bucky, this is definitely not how I saw my night going. Home invasion, playing surgeon – not my usual kind of fun.”

You get up, maybe because you decide that you – and Bucky – need a blanket, or maybe because you need a distraction from his chest going up and down like it’s got a business with making you want to touch it.

You’re not a slut, but who knows? Jim Halper would get it.

“You’re that kid, aren’t you? Stark’s assistant.” Bucky’s voice, low and husky, makes you jump. You look at him, your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

It’s surprising that he knows you, considering. He’s – well, he’s basically a celebrity, if ex-assassins could be considered that. You’re only Tony’s techie, and you and Bucky have never actually met, not even in the few parties you had attended to stop your boss from nagging you that you had to actually go out and have some fun sometimes, because you’re still young and cute and you need to enjoy yourself before you get saggy and bitter.

Jokes on him, you were born bitter.

“I’m no kid.”

“Nice socks.”

You wiggle your toes and it makes the ears of one of the baby Yodas move.

“Still not a kid! If you wanna be sad and wear your sad, plain socks, Bucky, that’s entirely your choice.” You said, pointing your index at him, making circles in the air with it to really get your point across.

Bucky smirks, and you go up to him with the two blankets on your arms. He’s blocking the door with that bulky body of his, and you raise your eyebrows quizzically.

“I’ll have you know – meeting Steve’s annoying, mouthy, pretty house sitter is not how I saw my night going either.” Bucky puts a doubtful tone on house sitter, as if he still doesn’t get exactly what it means.

You blink. You’re positive you heard it wrong. Is he… is this flirting?

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I called you annoying and mouthy too.”

“Yeah, I mean I know that much about me.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “The pretty part is new though.”

Bucky still hasn’t moved from the doorframe, and you find yourself staring up at him. He is inches away now, pupils blown wide in the darkness, and you can see a ring of steely blue around them. He licks his lips, and you’re drawn in.

The maelstrom in his eyes sends you spinning.

“I think someone should say you’re not see through, much less–”

Bucky shuts you up by pressing his lips onto yours, a slow, exploratory kiss, the tenderest he’s been all night. His metal hand rests on your lower back, making you shiver at the cool touch.

You’re all panting and eagerness when you cup his face with both hands and press your body against his. You need to deepen this kiss. You haven’t drooled over Bucky Barnes all night to keep things lovey-dovey.

He responds in earnest, pulling you closer. The flesh hand on the back of your neck is a stark contrast against the chill of the other. You and Bucky stumble from the corridor and back to the living room, knocking over a few of Steve’s decorations in the process.

“I don’t feel as bad for this one.” You mumble against his lips, stopping to look at a particular framed picture of Captain America in uniform, surrounded by every single counterfeit Cap in Times Square.

“S’ one of his favorites.”

You nod, you’re aware. Steve thinks it’s the most hilarious thing ever.

Bucky’s breath tickles the hairs on your neck when he continues.

“I hate it.”

“Yeah.”

You capture his lips again, and you two resume your chaotic redecorating. You’re thankful for Bucky’s strong arms keeping you from falling over, because at this point you’re not sure if your legs work anymore.

He takes you with him when he drops down on the same armchair from earlier, and the dizzy spell you find yourself in is broken when you hear him groan.

Right. He’s battered up and stuff.

“Shit, Bucky, I’m sorry–”

“No.” He pulls you close again, and guides your body to straddle one of his thighs. “Stay right here, doll.”

Doll. God-fucking-damnit.

His hand moves under the elastic band of your pants, oh my god you’re making out with Bucky-Hot-Piece-Of-Ass-Barnes in your wiener dog pajama bottoms, and finds the hem of your underwear. He pulls on it, and you yelp when he lets it snap against your side.

He laughs, and you vibrate along with his chest.

You find yourself grinding on his leg, sucking on his bottom lip, raking your nails along his shoulders, doing anything, everything for more, trying to burn the taste and the feel of him on your memory. He moves on to kiss your neck and you sigh, tugging on his hair and making sure you’re holding on for dear life.

Your eyes flutter open, enough to see the fish Avengers in their tank.

The Avengers.

Steve Rogers is an Avenger. So is Bucky, technically.

You’re making out with Bucky. One of his hands is on your boob.

This is Steve’s apartment.

You manage to sober you up enough, despite Bucky’s constant attacks of open mouth kisses and bites on your neck.

“I don’t think Steve would – if we–” You lift your head begrudgingly to look at him. “You know, on his armchair.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced, but his hand moved up from your butt to your waist again.

Steve Rogers was probably miles away right now and still cockblocking you.

Even worse, his furniture was cockblocking you.

Stupid star-spangled IKEA shopper.

And his hot best friend. Who’s currently smiling at you in a such a way that makes you almost abandon all comradery towards Rogers and the sanctity of his place.

You debate getting up, but resign yourself to burying your nose in the crook of Bucky’s neck and just staying there, because honestly, when are you going to have the chance to do this again. Never, that’s when.

Also, he’s surprisingly comfortable for someone with a metal arm and such a jacked-up body.

“You’re sleepy.”

“No, I’m like, super awake.”

It’s a lie, because now that the sparks have flown and the rush of blood in your ears gave way to the quietness of the early morning, you feel yourself drifting, on and off, surprising yourself when you come to once and find that Bucky is still there, warm under you.

“Sleep, doll. I need it too.”

You shift, ready to let his rhythmic breathing lull you to sleep. The last 75 sleepless hours catch up with you.

“Bucky? If you want to break into someone’s house again sometime – I have a first aid kit too. Just sayin’.”

[just-another-blog-of-fluff]

A Welcome Distraction

Word count: 5700

Warnings: reader dealing with generalized anxiety

This was another Prompt requested by @lokifluff about a reader dealing with anxiety, and who finds tickling to be a coping mechanism.

If you haven't gathered already from some of my other fics, I deal with anxiety and depression myself. Everyone has a different way of dealing with it, but the important thing to realize is that it's ok to ask for help.

To anyone else, you were a courageous, strong, stealthy agent of SHIELD. Someone who always had their wits about them, who could think their way through anything. Someone who was fierce, a fiery ball of energy just waiting to be let loose on the first enemy that dared to cross you or anyone else on your team. Someone who didn’t go down without a fight.

They didn’t know you fought an internal battle every single day.

Living with anxiety, your mind was always reeling. Always racing, always considering the ‘what ifs’ and the ‘I wish I hadn’t.’ Shying away from conversations for fear of saying the wrong thing. Worrying about everything – as big as the fear of dying on a strenuous mission, or as small as whether you’d forgotten to complete your post-mission paperwork that was due the day before. Wondering how you’d gotten this far without someone recognizing you for what you truly were – a fraud. A coward.

It was almost as though your mind was split into two pieces. You had the logical side, which knew exactly how ridiculous it was for you to worry about such things. Knew that if you even so much as alluded to not being enough for the team, that your teammates would shut you down with love and praise for everything you’d accomplished. But your anxiety brain was loud, and it was cruel. It often overwhelmed the logical side, filling your thoughts with self-doubt and worry.

Some would refer to the type of anxiety you had as ‘high-functioning,’ because you’d gotten so good at hiding it. But it sure as hell didn’t feel like you were functioning when you were hit with a particularly heavy anxiety-ridden day. On the outside, you smiled and laughed, talked and joked as you normally would, but on the inside the anxiety had an icy grip on your throat. You rarely ever experienced a true, full-blown panic attack, but the anxiety was always there, like an old injury that flared up on certain days but simply ached on others.

Over the years, you’d found ways to cope with it. Therapy was a huge help in learning to understand and process your anxiety. To deal with it in constructive ways. For years, you were hesitant to try medication, fearing it would change you, but when you finally gave in and decided to accept it, you found it to be one of the best things you’d ever done. You were still you – it just took the edge off the everyday anxious feelings. It never completely disappeared, it just dulled, became more manageable.

You found that one of your most effective coping mechanisms was to distract yourself with things you enjoyed that required your full concentration. Learning new fighting techniques was one of your favorite methods, since it also helped improve your skills as a SHIELD agent. You also enjoyed playing music on your guitar, quietly in your room where no one else could hear. And of course, the occasional game night with the team was always an excellent distraction – how could you be anxious when you were busy trying to knock Peter’s car off the cliff in a rowdy game of Mario Kart?

One of your most effective distraction techniques, however, you had stumbled upon incidentally.

You’d been sent out on a stealth mission to investigate an underground tunnel leading into what the Avengers suspected to be an enemy hideout. You’d been paired with Loki, who was also skilled in flying under the radar. The mission was simply to map out the tunnel so the team could take them on by force at a later time, so the pair of you were sufficient.

Admittedly, your stomach dropped a bit when you peered down into the rocky tunnel dropping straight downward into the abyss. There was no way of knowing exactly how deep it was, but you could assume it was at least a couple hundred feet. You weren’t about to let your fear show on your face, especially not in front of the cunning, powerful, and undisputedly handsome god you’d been sent with to investigate.

You suited up in your rappelling harness, anchoring your rope to a nearby tree and placing your helmet on your head, flipping on the light on the front. Hooking yourselves into the descenders on your respective ropes, you gave Loki a determined look before leaning backward and allowing yourself to slowly descend into the tunnel.

“Not afraid of heights, I hope, agent,” Loki teased, grinning at you as he slowly released more rope to drop lower into the tunnel.

“Not all heights, no. But you can’t argue that a tunnel of unknown depth dropping into pitch black who knows what is a little unsettling,” you countered.

“I suppose, if you didn’t grow up living by a bridge that hovered over the depths of space itself.���

“Fair enough.” You continued to descend in silence, fingers beginning to cramp already inside your gloves. If you looked straight ahead, and not up or down, you could keep your nerves at bay. You fixed your gaze on the rope in front of you, settling into a rhythm as your hands obscured the rope from your view in turn.

Suddenly, you dropped a few inches, the rope above you sliding lower along with you. Your eyes widened, and you shot Loki a panicked look. Your heart was nearly beating out of your chest, only amplified by the fact that Loki – normally calm and confident – looked just as panicked as you felt.

The next few seconds happened so quickly, you barely registered what was happening.

The rope slackened above you, and you felt gravity take hold as you began to drop. An arm wrapped tightly around your waist, halting your descent before it truly began, pulling you sideways into Loki’s side. On pure instinct, you threw your arms around his neck, your entire body shaking as you pressed your face into his shoulder with a whimper. He ordered you to hold on, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist so you could cling to his back while he freed up his hands to continue rappelling the pair of you safely to solid ground.

“It’s alright – we’re safe. You can let go now.”

You hadn’t even realized Loki was standing on the rocky floor of the tunnel. Slowly, you loosened your grip and lowered yourself to the ground, holding onto his shoulder for a moment to stabilize yourself. Your knees were threatening to buckle beneath you, but you forced them to remain locked in place to keep yourself upright as you finally let go of Loki completely.

“Alright, agent?”

“Y-yeah. Just shaken.”

“Understandable.” He laid a firm hand on your shoulder as you breathed deeply, in through your nose and out through your mouth to calm yourself.

When you finally felt as though you didn’t have to concentrate on just standing, the fear slowly subsiding, you moved your hands to the clasp of your harness around your waist. Your hands were trembling uncontrollably, unable to get quite a tight enough grip on the buckle to release it. Loki observed you for a moment, then reached for your hands to still them.

“Let me help you.”

You nodded, unable to find your voice. He reached up to unbuckle the clasp under your collarbone first, sliding the shoulder straps off over your arms before moving down to the buckle at your waist you’d been struggling with. His fingertips brushed against your belly just below your bellybutton. Normally, you could contain yourself with these minor, accidental tickling incidents, but it came so unexpectedly that you didn’t have the wherewithal to bite back the giggle that rose in your throat. Loki’s blue eyes flitted up to yours as a smirk spread across his face.

“Agent – was that a giggle?” he asked, his voice laden with mischief.

“Uhh…”

“I never knew you were ticklish.”

“Yeah well… now you know.” Your voice was wavering a little still, but the tremors in your hands were beginning to lessen as your body exited fight-or-flight mode. You averted your eyes upward, trying desperately not to look at the God of Mischief as he worked to live up to his title, his fingers prodding into your belly with more intent.

“Hang on, I’ll just do it – hey, Loki – hehey!!” You started to giggle as he threw a few pokes at your sides, completely foregoing the original plan to help you out of the harness in favor of exploring his newfound knowledge.

“Really, agent? Tsk, tsk. How have I not discovered this sooner? You’re exceptionally ticklish.”

“Ihi – LOKI! It’s because I’m still NEHERVOUS from nearly plummeting to my DEHEATH – NOHO!” You doubled over as his fingers pinched at your waist with more intent, not even trying to disguise his attempts anymore.

“Well then I suppose I should take advantage while the opportunity still stands,” he hummed, latching his hands onto your sides and kneading into the soft skin.

“Lo-HAHA-LOHOKI WE HAVE A MISSION TO COMPLEHEHETE!!” you scolded, finding it extremely difficult to sound threatening through the laughter he was pulling from you with his fingers dancing up and down your sides.

You were beyond flustered by this whole altercation – none of your teammates had ever learned of your ticklishness before now, and of course the first person to figure it out had to be the mischievous and devilishly handsome prince of Asgard who’d captured your attention these last few months. As Loki finally let up for a moment and you were able to process more coherent thoughts, you realized something.

The anxious, fearful feeling had completely disappeared.

You’d never really considered it before. It had been years since anyone had dared try to tickle you beyond just a poke to the side here and there, and you’d nearly forgotten what it was like. The sensation was overwhelming and, combined with Loki’s incessant teasing, your mind literally couldn’t process anything beyond the alarm bells going off as his fingertips began exploring the ticklish skin of your sides and belly once again. Logic and anxiety brain be damned – neither could hold a candle to your pleasantly flustered brain.

Your knees buckled underneath you for an entirely different reason now, and you slowly sank to the ground onto your knees as he followed you down, unrelenting in his attack. When his fingers began to crawl up to your lower ribs, you shrieked and began to scramble backwards to evade his hands. As you nearly scurried out of his reach, his eyes gleamed as his smirk grew impossibly wider. His hand shot out toward your belly, but instead of connecting with your torso, his fingers closed around the hook of the harness that had you connected to your rope on the way down.

With one swift, effortless tug, he dragged you back toward himself, hovering over you with his hands poised to strike. He leaned down closer, his voice a low, seductive growl:

“I can’t let you off that easy, can I?”

You squeaked.

“L-Loki!! What about the mission?!”

“We’ve plenty of time, agent.” His hands slowly descended toward your ribs, making your voice pitch up in octave.

“B-but… Loki, we’re professionals! Can’t we do this later?”

He paused for a moment, fingers hovering just above your torso, barely inches between his fingertips and the fabric of your shirt. Seemingly pondering for a moment, he finally sat back, allowing you to clamber out from beneath his piercing gaze.

“Later, then. But, I should warn you – the longer I have to think about it, to plan my route of attack…” His eyes skimmed over you, as if assessing where he might be able to target to make you scream. “The worse things will be for you.”

Your face was on fire.

The actual mapping of the tunnel pathways went fairly smoothly. There weren’t a lot of opportunities to get lost or turned around – only a couple of paths that split off here and there, and they mainly terminated in dead ends. The team had been right – there was a ladder at the end of the underground tunnel leading up to a trap door which, presumably, led into the hide out. You weren’t to engage with the enemy, so you marked the end of the tunnel and made your way back to the entrance.

Climbing back out was anxiety-producing. Loki made you climb up above him on his rope in case you were to slip, so he could catch you. Still, even with him as a sort of safety net below you, the memory of nearly falling to the bottom made your hands shake. Fortunately, the ascent went much more flawlessly than the descent, and you soon were able to hoist yourself back up to solid ground on the surface with Loki close behind.

“Well, despite the rocky start – no pun intended – I do believe that went quite well,” Loki boasted. You nodded in agreement, offering a weak smile as you slowly recovered from your treacherous climb. “Don’t think that I’ve forgotten about your little secret, agent.”

Your face warmed, flustered by the reminder. “You’re going to make this a long ride home, aren’t you?”

Loki paused for a moment as you continued advancing toward the car where Happy awaited you both to return to the compound. Realizing he was no longer walking alongside you, you stopped and turned around, tilting your head in confusion.

“I was originally planning to wait until we arrived at the tower to torment you. However, you’ve brought up a valid point.”

“Say what, now?”

“Why wait until we get back when presented with such a wonderful opportunity?” His eyes flashed, an unnerving smirk spreading across his lips. “Once we’ve started driving, you’ve nowhere to go. No way to escape.”

A shrill squeak escaped your lips, only serving to broaden the wicked grin on Loki’s face. You didn’t wait for him to start advancing toward you – you spun on your heel and took off sprinting toward the car, aiming to launch yourself into the front passenger’s seat and shut the door before he could pin you in the back seat with him. You giggled nervously as you heard his heavy footfalls behind you as he pursued, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. Your fingers closed around the cool metal of the door handle to the car, ripping it open to find a surprised and confused-looking Happy sitting inside.

Before you could slide into the seat, your forward momentum was halted by a set of arms wrapping tightly around your waist. You shrieked, giggly pleas spilling from your mouth as Loki effortlessly lifted you off the ground, shutting the door with his hip.

“NO! YOU CAHAN’T DO THIS!!” you wailed, kicking your feet out in front of you to prevent him from getting close enough to the door to open it. Grunting, more out of frustration than from the exertion of carrying you, he shifted you to one side against his hip to free his other hand to open the door without you intervening.

“Oh, dear. It appears I can.” He slid his free arm under your knees and ducked into the back seat, tossing you into the car unceremoniously and following in behind you. You swiftly scooted to the opposite end of the car, holding your hands up protectively in front of you. Loki evaded your hands with ease, scooting himself into the middle seat and reaching across your shoulder to drag the seatbelt across your body into the buckle at your hip.

“Uh… should I ask?” Happy wondered aloud, turning around to look at the pair of you wrestling in the back seat.

“HE’S TRYING TO ATTACK ME!” you hollered, unable to keep from giggling.

“And you’re… amused by this?” Happy asked, only growing more confused. Before you could respond, Loki interjected.

“She’s simply being dramatic. I only intend to tickle her senseless.”

“LOKI!” You felt the heat in your cheeks intensify as he openly declared his intentions, and in front of Happy, no less. Happy, of course, merely shrugged, turning his attention straight ahead once again, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Alright, just make sure you’re both wearing your seatbelts, and try not to kick my seat.”

“HAPPY!! You’re CONDONING this??”

“I wouldn’t say condoning it. Just… not intervening.”

You whined, leaning back against the door of the car to keep as much distance as possible from the pleased-looking trickster plugging his seatbelt in beside you. Happy threw the car in reverse, backing up onto the road before beginning the drive back to the tower. There was no longer any hope of escape.

“Well then – where would you like to begin?” Loki asked teasingly. You shook your head wildly, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively.

“How about nowhere??”

Truth be told – you were giddily excited about this turn of events. Not to mention, the car ride home would have been laden with the anxiety of having to make small talk. You hated small talk – you never knew what to talk about, always worrying you’d choose a boring topic, or say something silly. At least this was a pleasant sensation of nervousness.

“Hmm, I think not. It appears I will have to choose for myself.”

Both hands shot down to your knees, pinching and kneading the muscle just above the joint. In turn, your hands shot out to grasp his wrists, shoving at his hands as he sent ticklish shocks through your legs.

“Nohoho!!” Your legs kicked out involuntarily toward the seat in front of you.

“I said don’t kick the seat,” Happy scolded.

“Apologies, good sir. I’ll take care of it.” Loki scooped your legs off the floor and dragged them to rest across his lap, leaving you awkwardly twisted in your seat.

“LOKI! THAT’S NOT FAHAHAIR!”

“On the contrary – I’m preventing you from making this an unsafe drive home.” He looped his arm around your calves, resting the other on your knee. “Now – where were we?”

“You were releasing me and moving to the other side of the car – no, NO NOT THEHEHERE!” Loki interrupted your snide remark, hooking his fingers around to the underside of your knee and scratching lightly against the delicate skin through the fabric of your pants. You tugged desperately at your legs, but he held them straight to keep your knees fully exposed. Defeated, you giggled hysterically as he added his other hand, scratching at the back of your calf and eliciting a surprisingly ticklish sensation.

“My, my. How unfortunate for you. Tell me – is it worse, knowing you can’t move? Can’t escape?” You refused to gratify his teasing with an answer, shaking your head and redoubling your efforts to pull your legs from his grasp. “Giving me the silent treatment? Maybe this will loosen your tongue.”

You yelped in surprise as he reached down and yanked your shoe off one foot in one fluid motion, pleading with him once again as he placed his fingertips threateningly against the sole of your socked foot. With one finger, he slowly scratched his way from your heel to your toes, delighted by your desperate giggles and involuntary twitches.

“L-Loki wait, I don’t deserve this I doHON’T DESEHERVE THIHIHIS!!” Giggles turned into belly laughter as he began scribbling all five fingers around the sole of your foot, up the sides, along the inner arches, across the ball of your foot, even along the top, which was alarmingly sensitive. You thought you would go insane before you arrived back at the compound, but suddenly Happy was announcing your arrival, and Loki was finally offering you mercy.

“I suppose I’ll allow you a reprieve for today,” he lamented, replacing your shoe back on your foot and setting both feet back down on the floor of the car in front of you. Your chest was heaving from the exertion of your laughter, eyes blurred with tears of mirth.

“Gohohod Loki! I’m not getting in the back seat of a car with you ever again,” you groaned, trying to sound irritated but failing when you found yourself unable to wipe the giddy smile off your face. As the car came to a stop, you unbuckled your seatbelt and ducked out of the car.

“You assume I need you to be trapped in a vehicle to pin you down?” Loki climbed out of the car behind you, giving you a sly look. “That sort of thinking will get you in trouble someday.”

How was it possible for him to know EXACTLY what to say to set your face on fire?

Neither of you spoke about the car ride home once you’d entered the tower and reunited with the others. While you kept quiet about it, your brain kept replaying the scenario on repeat. It was fun having Loki messing with you so playfully. It felt nice to have his undivided attention, pleasantly flustering you as he tickled you to pieces. And above all, it had filled your brain with a distracting, euphoric sensation that prevented the anxiety from taking over your thoughts. The effects lasted throughout the evening as you kept thinking back to his teasing, his ruthless fingers breaking your resolve while he merely grinned at you.

By the following morning, the low level anxious feeling you’d grown so accustomed to had returned. You’d learned how to manage it by now, but you couldn’t help but be disappointed after you’d felt so light the day before.

The problem was truly ironic. You couldn’t tell Loki that his tickling you had made you feel less anxious, because you were too anxious that he’d find it weird. It was sort of unusual, you thought – most people absolutely detested being tickled, and here you were accepting it as an effective coping mechanism for your anxiety. You were embarrassed at the realization that you enjoyed the feeling of his fingertips digging into your sides, forcing sweet laughter out of you with every squeeze of his fingers. No, telling him was not an option. You had to find another way to get him to tickle you.

Fortunately, Loki was fairly easy to provoke. He clearly enjoyed taking you apart with his nimble fingers, relishing in the sound of your giggles as he sought out the spots that made you shriek. A surefire way to incite tickles from the god was to interrupt his reading. It didn’t matter what it was – you could take his book, make a bit of extra noise in the room than was necessary, or simply try talking to him too much, and in a flash his fingers were spidering all over your belly.

The challenge was, it was difficult to even work up the courage to do those little irritating things when the anxiety was truly weighing on you. So, in the moments you truly needed the playful distraction, you simply kept to yourself. Without provocation, Loki had no reason to even think about tickling you.

A few weeks after that first incident when he’d learned of your ticklishness, and you’d learned it made you feel better, you were sent on another mission. This time, you were sent with Peter and Tony (mostly because Peter had absolutely begged to go along with the two of you). Everything was going fine.

Until it wasn’t.

You nearly lost Peter on that mission. You were supposed to cover him, to protect him, while Tony went on ahead. But there were just so many of them. They all came at you so fast. Time had seemed to move in slow motion as a lackey slipped past you, gun aimed straight at Peter’s head. The blast you heard wasn’t the sound of a gun, though. It was Tony’s blaster from his Iron Man suit, laying waste to the offender before he could even consider pulling the trigger.

The mission was ultimately successful, but you couldn’t help but beat yourself up for failing to protect the kid. Tony assured you it wasn’t your fault, that you’d done everything you could, and it didn’t matter anyway because he’d been there to save the day. It got your anxiety brain reeling, though. How could you still be on the team? How had they not recognized what a fraud you were, a failure of an agent? How much longer would it take before they decided to demote you, realizing you weren’t adequate enough to make the cut?

When you’d arrived back at the compound, you put on your usual ‘everything is fine’ front and hung out with the others in the common room. Everyone was talking, laughing, going on with their life as normal around you. You chimed in just enough for them to notice, to maintain the appearance that nothing was wrong. Slowly, the others dispersed from the common room, heading off to bed or to finish up some late-night work, but you remained in your spot on the sofa. You weren’t ready to go to bed, to close your eyes and try to sleep knowing that the anxiety would completely overwhelm you. When everyone else had left, you changed the channel to some mindless, late-night television show and tried to will your mind to relax.

Naturally, you were more than surprised when a pair of hands dug into your ribcage from behind. With a shrill screech, you tipped over sideways as your attacker continued to dig their fingers into your ribs, eliciting wild laughter. A deep chuckle told you exactly who was harassing you. Flustered didn’t even begin to describe what you were feeling.

“LOKI! LO-LOHOKI WAHAHAIT!!” His fingers stilled against your ribs, and you visibly relaxed into the couch cushions, slowly sitting yourself up as he rounded the couch to sit beside you. “Loki! What did I do to warrant such a vicious attack?” you demanded. He shrugged.

“I find myself to be quite bored this evening. What better way to cure my boredom than to sneak up on you and attack you with tickles? You’ve been far too serious all evening.”

“All evening – Loki, you weren’t even in the room with all of us! Were you just creeping on me??”

“I don’t ‘creep’ on people. I merely observe.”

“That’s basically creeping. But anyway – let’s get back to the fact that you decided to tickle me because you’re bored.”

“That’s right.” His smirk broadened. “It was quite effective in curing my boredom. And you certainly appear more relaxed.”

He was right – even the brief altercation had dragged you out of your anxious thoughts, a pleasant, happy distraction to focus on instead. You felt you had some of your sass back as well.

“Well of course I’m relaxed – you just tickled me until my muscles turned to jelly!” you quipped.

“Is that right?”

Uh-oh. You recognized that tone.

“So, you’re telling me…” His hands clasped around your wrists, making you start giggling nervously. “… that all I need to do to make you relax is hold you down and tickle you to tears?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, no sound coming out. He chuckled sinisterly.

“Oh, this should be fun.”

In one swift motion, he’d pushed you down against the couch, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand. Before you could protest, his free had was scribbling under your arm, quickly converting your protests to loud laughter. Taken aback by your reaction, he continued to focus his efforts in that one spot, looking entirely too pleased with himself when he discovered that scratching just two fingers in the very center of your underarm made you writhe under his touch.

“WHYHYHY!?” you cried, yanking desperately at your wrists.

“I simply can’t watch you sulking all evening – stop squirming so much – sulking all evening by yourself.”

“I will NOHOT stop squirming!”

“Very well.” He released your wrists, his hands both darting down to your hips where he began digging his thumbs into the skin just beside the bones. You arched your back, screeching in ticklish agony, only amplified as he began to knead tiny circles into your hips with his thumbs. “How’s this for a distraction?”

“AHHAHA LOKI STOHOP TEASING ME!”

“Hmm,” he hummed, pausing his torment to grin down at your frazzled face, thumbs still pressing into your hips just enough to keep you on edge. “Does it bother you? The teasing?” His hands shifted up to your ribs, pinching up and down between the bones as you howled with laughter. “Does it make it worse? Knowing how easy it is for me to fluster you?”

“L-Lo-AHA-LOKIHI!” His name was all you could muster, your brain short-circuiting as his velvety, baritone voice preyed upon your resolve, depriving you of all coherent sentences.

“How adorable, agent. So ticklish, you can’t even form an articulate thought.” His fingertips dug into your belly next, clawing methodically along the sides, which he discovered drew out tiny, shrieky giggles interlaced with snorts. “I retract my former statement – this is adorable.”

“Lohohohoki I’ll kihihill you!!”

“Hmm. You’ve reverted to threats. Better find a more effective weak spot.” He lightened his touch, grazing his fingertips gently along your belly to keep the airy giggles pouring from your lips. “Where was it that you simply begged me not to tickle you?”

“No, NO no, you can’t… I won’t… Loki!” You whined childishly as his line of sight traveled down to your knees, sitting up to grasp at his hands as he began to scoot backward for better access.

“Oh-ho, fighting back again? This must be a torturous spot for you.” Loki grappled with you for a moment, forcing you to turn over onto your side before pushing you the rest of the way over onto your belly. You gasped as his weight pressed down on your ankles, leaving the entirety of the backs of your legs completely vulnerable.

“Noohoho Loki I cahahan’t, it’s soho bad, it’s soHO AHH NOHOHAHAHA!”

With just the gentlest scratching of his fingertips along the backs of your knees, you completely lost your composure. It was overwhelmingly, mind-numbingly ticklish, and he was enjoying every second of the hiccupy laughter he was eliciting from you. The damned trickster was far too observant for his own good, experimenting dusting his fingertips along the backs of your calves and up along the backs of your thighs, settling finally on a spot toward the inner part of the back of your thighs a few inches above your knees that drove your laughter into silent shaking. By the time he’d decided to show you mercy, you needed to lie still for a moment as you waited for the strength to return in your muscles.

“I didn’t break you, did I?” Loki asked, rubbing his hand along your lower back firmly enough to avoid tickling you.

“N-hic-noho. I-Ihi-hic-I’m good.” You found the strength to roll back over onto your back, and Loki helped pull you up into a seated position. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, but you couldn’t wipe the ridiculous grin off your face. There was certainly no anxiety on your brain now.

“In all honesty, darling – you did seem a bit off earlier. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable. You just seemed as if you could use a laugh.”

“No, I’m not uncomfortable. Don’t worry.” You looked down at your hands, heat rushing to your face. “It… it did make me feel better.”

“Is that right?” A few sneaky pokes to your side got you giggling again, and you leaned into Loki instead of leaning away from his tickling fingers. Laughing warmly, he retracted his hand from your side. “What were you feeling? When you were sitting here alone, looking so serious?”

“Uhh… well…” You took a deep breath, trying to decide if you wanted to tell him the truth. Loki’s arm slid around your shoulders, squeezing your arm comfortingly. In that moment, you decided to trust him completely.

Maybe it was the residual adrenaline from being tickled senseless that gave you the courage to speak about it. In any case, you told Loki everything. How you struggled with anxiety, how you’d finally begin to get help and learn to cope with it, how your medication and the therapy lessened the feeling but that on occasion you had to make an extra effort to distract yourself from the darkness inside your mind.

“It’s… it’s kind of embarrassing, but… when you tickle me, it distracts me from the anxiety. I can’t think of anything else because all I can think about is how bad it tickles. It’s really weird, and stupid, but that’s just… that’s just how I feel.”

“It isn’t weird, or stupid. You’ve explained it to me perfectly.” Loki turned his body to face you more fully, grasping your shoulders. “I’m sorry you’ve been going through this alone. If you need someone to talk to, trust me when I tell you I know how you feel, probably more than you realize.” You smiled weakly at him, tears brimming in your eyes. He squeezed your shoulders comfortingly in response. “And if you need a distraction, just say the word.”

“Loki! I can’t… I can’t just ask for it! It’s embarrassing,” you mumbled, heat creeping into your cheeks.

“Well, I suppose I’ll just have to tickle you more often, then. Since you’re too stubborn to tell me when you want it.” He punctuated his sentence with a squeeze to your sides, and you doubled over with a giggle.

“Loki!” you squeaked, flustered by his threat. His mischievous smirk returned as he let his hands rest on your lower ribs.

“And, maybe, you could use a distraction after you so bravely told me about your love for my tickles.” Any protests you might have feigned were lost as his fingers dug into your ribs once again, throwing you back into sweet giggles.

You didn’t even try to push him away this time. He knew this made you happy, and you felt safe allowing yourself to be vulnerable with him. The anxiety would never completely go away. But it didn’t define you. It was simply one small part of who you were.

[conjurethecosmos]

Honey we need to talk - Steve Rodgers x little!reader

AN:///Hey this is my first fan fiction so please don’t be that hard on me lmao. also i just wanted to say that this isn’t a kink and I don’t write any kink related stuff. PSA age regression is a coping mechanism. If you like my work please like <3 also my asks are open so feel free to ask or suggest stories if you like :)

Word Count: 2k

(Y/N) POV

The surviving Avengers were finally coming back to the tower. Life had already changed just within the hours of the blip, but (Y/N) was alone and did not know about the blip. (Y/N) had been home at the tower safe, protected, from the terror that the avengers were fighting. She knew about Thanos and how he was trying to get all the stones, but the Avengers are the most powerful superheroes ever, they have to win, right? F.R.I.D.A.Y had been keeping watch of the currently sleeping (Y/N) making sure she was okay. The Avenger’s tower was known to be soundproof to keep the bustling sound of the city outside, which is why (Y/N) hadn’t been disturbed. The screams, screeches of cars, and general commotion of the people were not heard by the sleeping girl. F.R.I.D.A.Y did know what had happened when she lost contact with most of the avengers. She did not want to alarm (Y/N) since she had been extremely stressed out and with stress came her age regression. F.R.I.D.A.Y just did not want her to panic without anyone to physically console her since almost everyone she loved was gone. She would just wait till the remaining avengers arrived back to tell her what happened and so she could inevitably regress in the comfort of someone’s arms.

(Y/N) woke up with a yawn surrounded by scattered stuffed animals and ruffled bedsheets. The first thing that she wanted to do was to check her phone to see if Bucky, Steve, or Peter texted her to check up or send a picture of them together happy and coming home. Peter was a regressor like (Y/N) and they would always play together in the toy room conveniently located next to (Y/N)’s room. But, when she tapped on their phone it would not turn on. Even the dead battery screen that would pop up if she did forget to charge her phone the night before didn’t even pop up. So, she decided to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y what was wrong with the phone. “I am sorry (Y/N) I can not seem to turn on your phone, there doesn’t seem to be any issue with it” F.R.I.D.A.Y states. “What do you mean nothing wrong? It won’t even turn on. Ugh I guess I will have to go and get a new phone then.” (Y/N) says. That is when F.R.I.D.A.Y quickly responds “I am sorry to tell you this, but I have been advised to keep you inside for your safety.” She let out a huff and decide that she might as well get dressed. She doesn’t even know when everyone will be back, but the night before Steve called and said that they would all probably be back the following day. All she wanted to do is color and play with stuffies with Peter while Steve sat in the chair in the corner of the shared playroom reading a book.

Steve’s POV

Bucky disintegrated right before his eyes. His best friend, gone, all from a snap. Thanos had disappeared and left Steve, Natasha, Wanda, and Bruce enraged, however, what could they do. The flight back was solemn and quiet. No one dared to cry in front of each other despite the trauma accumulated today, save for Nat who sat quietly crying. Steve only looked forward to seeing his favorite person, (Y/N), which he cared for most of the time due to her tendency to regress when he is with her. He did not mind at all, in fact his caring personality just made him gravitate more towards being (Y/N)’s caregiver. His brain was going a mile a minute just thinking of how to tell (Y/N) that half the population was gone, including some people she loved so much. The avengers were informed by F.R.I.D.A.Y which avenger had sadly been blipped. That only caused the already somber mood to become worse. Steve just sat there staring at the many buttons on planes’ cockpit thinking about how (Y/N) would react to the news of Peter being gone. He was her only little friend, he was always there for her when she was having a hard day and needed to regress. They were best friends, just like Bucky and I. ‘I think I will just tell her as an adult and then take care of her if she needs to regress’ Steve thought. They then eventually started descending onto the landing pad on top of the tower.

(Y/N)’s POV

It was now about 8 pm. You kept youself occupied by cleaning since oddly enough the usual cleaner never showed up.You thought that it was weird, but assumed that the cleaner may have had the day off or something. The T.V. was also broken, like your phone it wouldn’t turn on. You could not watch the news or a movie, so you were pretty bored the whole day.  You were pulled out of your boring thoughts when you heard keys enter the lock on the front door. Steve entered first looking panicked as he looked around to see if you were there, alive. You smiled at him and gave him a big hug, which caused him to hug you tighter almost as if you would disappear right before him. Immediately, you knew it was a hard mission. I mean they were gone for weeks so it had to be hard. However, He had a look on his face that you had never seen before. “Honey we need to talk” Steve sighed. They both walked into your bedroom to talk in private. You sat down on your bed hugging your stuffed purple fluffy bunny that was won by Bucky at a fair one year. Steve got the chair by your desk and moved it to be in front of you and then sat. “So, I am sure you are wondering what happened today?” Steve asked. “Yeah kinda. I haven’t heard anything since my phone is broken and the T.V. was off” you huffed. “Sweetie there really isn’t a good way of putting this...” he hesitated for a second but then started talking again looking at you straight in the eyes, “So Thanos got all the stones and snapped his finger which caused half the population to disappear.” You then started hugging your bunny as he continued to explain which avengers were gone. Tears were already starting to spill as you shut your eyes tightly. When he mentioned that peter was gone that is when you let out a loud pained cry. Steve had to hug you, to comfort his princess. He was not sure if he should have told you that a ton of people were gone, but you needed to know. If he didn’t and you would have asked about Peter, it would probably cause him to burst into tears. You started to regress, he could tell because you started sobbing and rocking. He knew that he needed to comfort you better than just hugging you so he decided that distracting you might be better. “Princess, I know you are sad about what I told you, but I just want you to know I am here for you.” Steve calmly says. “Bu-But I wan Pete n buck” (Y/N) blubbered. “I know baby, you can cry as much as you want,” He says while placing your head on his chest. Tears stain his shirt. He was tempted to cry with you, but he knew he needed to save his tears for when he was alone. Now was the time for his princess to grieve. After you crying for about twenty-five minutes Steve grabbed your paci so you could sleep. He could tell you had regressed. He placed you on your bed to lay down with your favorite bunny stuffie in your arms. Steve decided to sleep in the chair for the night just to watch over you in case you woke in the middle of the night in need of some comfort. He sat there staring at your sleeping form silently sobbing just because of all the stress of the day. It just hit him like a wave, but he eventually fell asleep. You woke up at 2 am to use the bathroom. You looked around the nightlight lit room to find Steve passed out in a chair located in the corner of the room. You slowly walked over, stuffie in hand, to wake the superhero up. You could not go to the bathroom by yourself since she was scared Thanos would be outside her door. Not even the bravest stuffie you owned could calm your fears. You poked Steve’s thigh to wake him up. Steve looked around in a panic only to see your puffy face. “Hey doll, what does my little princess need?” he asks. “I need to go potty, but I scared to go alone...” You shyly stated. “That’s okay, come on baby.” He escorts you to the bathroom and back. “Um Stevie, could you pwease cuddle me to sleep. I scared to sleep myself?” You sheepishly ask. ”Of course my baby.”

The next morning

You had woken up small. You could only speak like a three-year-old. That was okay with Steve though because he loved caring for you. He carried you into the living room and went into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee and you a sippy cup with strawberry milk with a plate of mini pancakes. He turned on your favorite Disney movie while he cooked for you. Caring for you was a needed distraction. He needed to feel like he was making a difference and obviously, the events of the previous day made him feel like all his efforts of protecting America or the Earth were all for nothing. But, taking care of you was rewarding and therapeutic. “Stevie, thanks for the pancakes, dis milk is so good too!” (Y/N) exclaimed with a cute little smile. “Aw, you’re so welcome, sweetie.”

5 years later

Time had passed, (Y/N) regressed more often than ever. She was rarely ever her adult self. Thankfully Steve had set up a group talk therapy session with some survivors which (Y/N) joined every time they had a meeting. She would only talk about missing Peter while hugging a stuffie she would bring. The group members never judged her though since they all had their own coping mechanisms if they had any. She was usually really shy in front of the group since mentally she was three and really did not have that much to say in front of the strangers.

Eventually, Bruce hatched an idea to bring everyone back, which caused you to be alone again. You just stayed in the playroom alone playing with barbies or watching a movie. Steve would call you from time to time to check up on you, luckily F.R.I.D.A.Y was a great caretaker and gave you your basic needs. The Avengers were now successful in bringing everyone back. Sadly, Tony had passed away though. You attended his funeral with Steve at your side. You still hadn’t seen Peter yet but did not want to interrupt his grieving since Tony was his main caregiver and mentor. Tony was the only father figure he had and he was just gone. Steve decided it would be best to have you pick a stuffed animal at the store for Peter to keep during this hard time. You decided on a red bear with a gold ribbon on his neck. Steve had the red bear in his hands ready to gift to Peter, while you had a new Pink bear with a white bow around its neck that you named Poppy. Once the funeral was done Steve held your hand to walk up to Peter. He looked so small and in need of someone to care for him. Steve then spoke, “Peter, I am deeply sorry for your loss. I know how you feel and if you need (Y/N) or me, don’t hesitate. (Y/N) thought that she should get you this special bear for you to give you comfort.” He handed Peter the red bear and Peter just hugged it close. Steve knew that he was going to have to take care of Peter and (Y/N) from now on, but he was ready for it. He loved you both dearly. “I hope you like the bear Peter, I thought you would like him since he’s your favorite color. See I have a pink one like yours, we’re twins!” You said trying to distract Peter. Peter rarely ever spoke when he was little, and this wasn’t any different. He eventually accepted your gift with a tight hug as his tears fell on your shoulder. 

Time skip: a couple of months

Peter eventually moved into the tower and got a room next to yours. Steve now had two regressors to take care of now, but at least he had the aid of Bucky who would just baby sit. You were currently in your room putting on one of Steves old shirts with black leggings. His shirts made you feel even smaller since it was so baggy. Steve then quietly knocked on your door for permission to come in. “Yes?” you asked. Steve then opened the door and stepped in with his hand in Peters. Peter had a smile on his face for probably the first time in months. You smiled back and then turned to face Steve who obviously wanted to ask you something. “Are you little right now (Y/N) or are you big because Pete wants to play blocks with you?” Steve asks. You beam and excitedly say, “I wan play blocks! Pete can we make a town wif da blocks and cars and my dollys?” This just caused Peter to run and hug you. You two ran to the next room to play together. Storage containers were quickly opened and blocks were scattered to begin construction on the town. Steve watched you two play from the door with a smile on his face. 

I am sorry this story was everywhere 

[theskywaslookingback]

tma fic recs please ? 🤲🏽

Oooooo yes! I never get asks like this, thank you!

[my tumblr fic recs tag is here for browsing]

I had to put it under a cut because it got...entirely too long barely half an hour into making it, sorry.

Under 5k

means of cartharsis by orphan_account [G] [965]

“You’d think – you’d that at this point nightmares would be second nature for me, hm?” Martin says, forcing a smile even as he tugs the blanket tighter around his trembling shoulders.

It’s meant to be a bit funny. Instead of laughing, though, Jon frowns.

“No,” he says simply, and matter-of-factly wipes the moisture from Martin’s cheeks with a tissue like he’s a crying child.

A Proper Sleepover by Goodluckdetective (scorpiantales) [T] [1.4k]

In a different world, one where Elias is not waiting for them outside the Lonely, everyone has a chance to savor a moment of respite. As much as they can get these days. If only to talk about things that long need to be spoken.

“Basira says we should all sleep in the same room tonight,” Jon says without looking up. “Safer. So we can keep an eye out for intruders and also each other.”

“So we’re having a proper sleepover then?”

Jon scoffs. “Technically we’ve been having a proper one for months.”

where i go, when i go there by rainny_days [T] [1.7k]

Martin wants Jon to hold his hand. Martin doesn't want Jon to hold his hand.

It's complicated.

all the other ways by AptlyNamed [G] [2.2k]

Jon loses his first soul mark when he is eight years old.

a palace from ruin by bibliocratic [G] [2.2k]

"What're you sorry for?” Martin asks.

“I should have asked,” Jon says finally. “I'd never.... you were always so private about him, so I mean, at first I wasn't sure he was even yours, but then – when you, when you went with Peter, and I – he was so small, and I thought he was h-half-dead. S-so I picked him up and I carried him. And I'm sorry.”

interiors by doomcountry [T] [2.7k]

In the doorway, he fumbles with his keys. Their sound is loud in the silent stairwell. You don’t remember getting here.

searching for a light (for a right) by Kalgalen [T] [2.7k]

Some people make the mistake of assuming he's naive about sex, for the simple reason he hasn't dated in a while. Tim has called him a prude, at one point, and implied that he was somehow afraid of the intimacy required by the act; he wasn’t entirely wrong, but this definitely isn’t the reason for Jon's disinterest and general bafflement toward what most people seemed to consider as "what makes them human".

Jon simply hasn't found the right person. That is all it is: high standards, and a reticence to let people in.

(In which Jon finds out society is wrong about what a romantic relationship should be.)

how to plant a garden in rocky soil by treeprince [T] [2.9k]

Sometimes you just need a good pair of hands to work out all the kinks in your life.

Good thing Martin has two.

A Weather In The Flesh by cuttooth [G] [3k]

"There is a span of years where Jon doesn’t touch anyone other than the occasional hand shake. It’s not so bad. He’s never been someone who’s needed physical affection."

*

Jon has never been any good at making people want to stick around.

I'll bring the motion by callmearctus [T] [3.1k]

A long series of kidnappings and international flights leaves its own special mark on someone. Before the Unknowing, Jon is a mess.

Martin helps.

A Bread Made In Heaven by Againstme [G] [3.3k]

Martin moves over and watches how his boyfriend handles the dough. He's awkward with it, tentative and gentle, as if he's scared of hurting it somehow.

"Is this, uh, am I doing this right?" Jon asks, still slowly stretching out the dough and folding it onto itself.

"Well," he says shifting closer to Jon again, "you could be applying more pressure. Here, let me help you out, dear."

Martin moves fully behind Jon, and reaches around him, putting his hands on top of his boyfriend's. Jon inhales sharply, but doesn't say anything else, just lets Martin's hand rest on top of his.

Martin's hands are bigger, but not big enough to entirely envelop the other's hands, and Jon's hands are much, much warmer than his own are. To see what they're doing, Martin moves his head to look over Jon's shoulder. Though he can't see his boyfriend's face from this angle, he can see how it is slowly growing red at the edge of his vision. He decides not to tease him on it, instead content with letting a smile spread across his face and slowly guiding their joined hands in the proper motion.

Or, Martin teaches Jon how to make bread.

stumbling and spinning by lady_mab [G] [3.3k]

“Things happened,” Jon says demurely, trying to untangle Gerry’s fingers, but it only results in him getting pulled in so Gerry can kiss him properly. “It’s not all that bad.”

“I suppose not,” Gerry says with a sigh, sitting back upright. “You somehow managed to snag an incredible boyfriend out of it.”

It takes a solid few seconds before realization clicks in Martin’s brain. “You mean me?” [...]

“You have to admit, Jon has great tastes,” Gerry teases.

nothing sweeter than local honey by beeclaws [T] [3.4k]

So Tim is content, one arm leaned into the spray, waiting for the water to warm, enjoying the feeling of homecoming underneath the gentle fuzz of jetlag, when he hears gasping, panicked breaths coming from the other room.

Tim and Jon, in the aftermath, relearning how to be okay.

When Words are Inadequate by Mugatu [T] [3.8k]

Meals and the preparation of are, for want of a better word, informative. Fact gathering. A place where they can fill in the gaps of their knowledge of the other.

Jon cooks for Martin, and they learn more about each other.

go softly by doomcountry [T] [4k]

And there is nothing else besides this.

Imago by cuttooth [T] [4k]

“Jon?” he asks tentatively, tightening his grip around the poker as it slips against his sweaty palm. The antennae twitch, and suddenly Martin knows that it’s Jon, the knowledge sliding into his mind in a surge of desperate affection, the same profound love he felt that first time he truly saw Jon in the fog of the Lonely.

“Oh,” he whispers. “It really is you.”

*

Jon changes, but he’s still the same to Martin.

shoreline by bibliocratic [G] [4.1k]

“Martin," Tim says kindly, tipsily, only mildly slurring. "Dearest, dearest Martin. You're wankered, babe. Last train to Stockwell fucked off hours ago because it is now piss off o'clock in the morning, and there's a sofa with your exact name on it at my place. Thought you said you wanted some handsome fellow to take you back to his tonight?”

Or: The OG Archive crew go drinking, Martin comes out, and gets some well deserved TLC. In that order.

get your epitaph right by bibliocratic [G] [4.2k]

Martin's daemon has tried on the shape of dogs and lizards and snakes and horses, and even – once, when he was younger and Mum took him to the seaside, a fish.

Martin's never seen his soul in the dressing of a spider before.

i've known the warmth of your doorways by beeclaws [T] [4.2k]

'I’m always in pain, Jon wants to say, even as he dismisses the thought as melodramatic. Between his growing collection of old wounds and scar tissue, the supernatural hunger for statements that hasn’t been truly satiated in months, and the unpredictable aches and strains his body threw off day by day long before he ever set foot in the Institute, some level of pain and discomfort follows Jon wherever he goes now. He is used to being in pain. He’s not used to someone holding his hand as he suffers through it.'

Jon catalogs the comforts he receives, and wonders how long he will be allowed to keep them.

lay down your weary head by Zykaben [T] [4.6k]

Jon has been running himself ragged, searching for every scrap of information he can possibly find about the Unknowing. He's exhausted and sleep-deprived but he can't bring himself to take a break, not now.

Luckily, Tim and Martin are there to make sure that their boyfriend gets the care and rest he needs.

only the sweetest words remain by bluejayblueskies [T] [4.6k]

This isn't how things are supposed to go, right? Jon remembers those ratty paperbacks from the charity shops, dime-a-dozen romance novels with broken bindings and yellowing pages and words that spoke of love and passion and sexuality in prose that was more than a bit too mature for someone whose age hadn’t yet reached double digits. Stolen glances turn into dinner dates turn into passionate kisses turn into…

Well, he’d never actually read those parts of the books, because it had all seemed so deeply uncomfortable and gross. But he got the picture.

Or, Jonathan Sims, on being loved

5k-20k

and they keep not letting go by Marianne_Dashwood [G] [5k]

It’s an electric feeling, something strange and new and familiar all at once, even though he has been holding Martin’s hand for most of the day. His stomach swoops, like he is standing on the edge of the precipice of realisation and staring into the void of unknowing. But at the same time, he does know. In this instant of contact between them, the last few years of cups of tea and small smiles and momentary glances, of panic and fear and only feeling safe with Martin’s solid presence in the room, despite his paranoia, rush into him, and oh, oh oh.

ready to call this love by yewgrove [G] [5.6k]

How is Martin supposed to tell Jon that he panicked, stupidly, when the lovely old lady down the village asked him what they were doing in this part of the world? Got the shopping! Oh, by the way, we're married now! Whole village thinks we're on our honeymoon, hope you don't mind!

Prenons-nous la main by luftballons99 [T] [6k]

They still haven't talked about it, any of it, not even to pass the time on the long train ride to Scotland. Instead, Martin fell asleep in the seat next to him, pressed into his side from shoulder to knee, and Jon thought about love confessions and verb tense and how the two fit together when you think you're dying.

or: Good cows, mediocre poetry, and other crucial topics of discussion.

This Must Be The Place by cuttooth [T] [6k]

“You said – you said we were going home,” Martin says softly.

“I did,” says Jon, and is grateful that Martin doesn’t comment on him calling the Archives home. “I – I don’t really know where to go. I, uh, I don’t have a flat anymore, I don’t think. We could find a hotel?”

“Let’s go to my place,” says Martin. His hand squeezes Jon’s, more gently than before. Most importantly, Jon notes, he doesn’t let go.

*

Jon and Martin go home for a little while.

Small Things, Simple Acts by ZaliaChimera [T] [6.6k]

Even after leaving London, Jon and Martin are not free, not really. Maybe they never will be.

But for now they can be themselves, and maybe in the end, that's enough.

house by tomatoes [G] [9k]

Martin can take care of himself.

roses, roses, roses by acetheticallyy (judesstfrancis) [T] [9.3k]

Rose scented laundry detergent. Running into Jon in the breakroom. Running into Jon on his way back to his desk. Rose scented detergent. Running into Jon. Roses. Jon. Roses, roses, roses.

a deeply annoying child by ajkal2 [G] [9.6k]

Jon is hiding under the desk.

----

There's a child in the Archives, who shouldn't be there.

Inseparable by voiceless_terror [T] [10.3k]

“You can stay.” The voice interrupts his internal panic, and he looks over to find Jon studiously avoiding his gaze, staring hard at a neighboring bush. Martin wonders what caused his sudden change of heart. “But you have to sit on the other side. And don’t talk to me.”

Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood meet as children. Some things change, others do not.

i'm almost me again, you're almost you by gruhukens [G] [12k]

After a second Jon steps in towards him, close enough that Martin flinches, but all Jon does is put two fingers under his chin with his free hand and raise it until Martin can’t duck away. Jon has never touched him so casually before – at least, not until today, and it raises a lot of thoughts and feelings that Martin is trying very hard not to process.

Much like a lot of other things that have happened, he thinks. Not that it’s horrible or terrifying or numbing like everything else has been: it’s just another thing on the list of things he doesn’t have the capacity to deal with.

---

In the wake of the Lonely, there's a lot that Martin doesn't really want to think about.

hello my old heart by firebirdsuite [T] [15.8k]

Peter’s wrong, of course. When it’s all over, Martin does still want to tell Jon everything. It’s just—well, there’s a few things they need to work through first before they can get there.

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

Over 20k

The Kindness of Strangers by TheOestofOCs [M] [23k]

It was easier to treat Jon like a monster when he wasn’t shivering against his back, brokenly humming—wait, was that…

“Are you trying to do ‘Hey, Jude’?” Tim demanded.

Jon stopped, stiffening. “Mm hrmh mm mmh hm,” he said defensively.

“You really can’t hold a tune, can you, boss?”

*

It was just an ordinary walk to a restaurant. Tim had insisted that if they were going to talk, there would be no tape recorders or weird Archives ghosts listening in. A bit of fresh air wouldn’t kill him, Tim had said. What could go wrong?

By the time Jon spots the white delivery van, it’s much too late.

The Stranger kidnaps Jon. Tim comes along for the ride.

Misjudged by ShastaFirecracker [T] [36.5k]

Martin's been a longtime listener of What the Ghost, so when Georgie gives a shoutout to her flatmate's Twitch channel during a Q&A, he checks it out - only to discover that her flatmate is also his most terrifying coworker at his new job. The first time they crossed paths, Jon yelled at him for incompetence. But on the streams, Martin sees an entirely different person - someone fun and relaxed, engaging and unfairly attractive. Over time, Martin begins to find that Jon buried inside his dour, awkward coworker. He also learns to live with the fact that his crush is painfully one-sided... or is it?

if we make it through the night everyone is gonna hear us (Series) by skvadern [Ratings Vary] [42.4k]

In which Sasha survives the NotThem (with a little help from a certain Distortion) and she and Jon spend s2 working together to try and make sense of everything that's happening to them. It goes...interestingly

the garden of forking paths by bibliocratic [T] [49.7k]

Whatever he had predicted might happen, Jon wasn't expecting to survive upon demolishing the Panopticon. He certainly wasn't expecting to be rescued.

Instead, he wakes up in an alternative universe where he's never been the Archivist, and Martin Blackwood doesn't exist.

Martin Blackwood wakes up somewhere else entirely.

it's only forever by lady_mab [T] [50.9k]

“The castle at the center of the labyrinth,” Jon breathes, recalling again the words from one of the past conversations with Martin. “He’s there.”

“Turn back, Jonathan,” the Goblin King says, and Jon is surprised to hear a slight edge of desperation in the tone. “Turn back before it’s too late.”

“I can’t,” Jon answers with the same tone. “You know that I can’t.”

The Goblin King’s grin is gone completely, and he regards Jon with a degree of pity before that melts into resignation.

Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey [T] [53.3k]

"Who the hell are you?" Jon could feel his hands shaking. The man laughed, taking a step forward and raising a hand to point at him. "I'm you, from the future!" he said, then swayed, eyes going unfocused, and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. -------- Post-season-four Jon and Martin time travel back to the season one Archives.

A Home For What Loves You by TheWrongShop [T] [151k]

It was completely fine that Jon was following up on this very normal, non-supernatural statement at midnight on a Friday. He was going to find nothing at all, and then he was going to go home and sleep for fourteen straight hours and feel absolutely no qualms about moving case #0150409 directly into the filing cabinet marked "discredited".

Or; Jon and Martin end up investigating Carlos Vittery's basement and finding the entity formerly known as Jane Prentiss together.

RATED E *MINORS DNI*

A Look And A Voice by cuttooth [E] [6.9k]

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Jon asks bluntly, and for a second Martin can’t breathe.

“It - it doesn’t matter what I - ” he begins valiantly, before Jon interrupts him.

“Because I want to have sex with you, and frankly it doesn’t matter if you think it’s for the wrong reasons. I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions. The only thing that matters is if you want to as well.”

*

Martin meets a guy in a bar and takes him home.

Warms The Coldest Night by cuttooth [E] [11k]

"Flame that warms the coldest night Bring to us the waxing Light, Be with us on Solstice Night." Gypsy - Bring Back The Light

There is mistletoe hanging in the doorway to the Archives when Jon gets in.

Curiosity by ShastaFirecracker [E] [11.6k]

“You know that conversation we had the other day about how one of the most important things for queer youth to learn is that it's okay to change their minds, because identity and self-discovery are always fluid?”

Behind him, Martin slipped oven mitts over his hands and pulled open the oven door. The scent of garlic and rosemary flooded the kitchen. “Yeah?” he said.

“I, um... I'd like to revisit the topic of sex.”

At the Interim (Series) by Rend_Herring [E] [41k]

A Measure Outside the Lines and The Residuum

triptych (Series) by Stacicity [E] [44.9k]

A collection of Jon/Tim/Martin fics

a steady hand, a delicate man by callmearctus [E] [52.8k]

Martin is the proprietor and manager of a very discrete and fairly exclusive brothel situated between Belgravia and Chelsea. Blackwood House excels at special requests and pleasing any client.

Except for Jon, who probably has never been pleased a day in his entire life.

Despite that, he still comes back. It eventually begs the question: how do you solve a problem like Jon Sims?

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 11

Silent scream

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: y/n gets shut up

Warnings: mentions of violence, swearing

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

"Fuck you." I snapped, mustering all the saliva I could before spitting it at his face. He flinched back when it splattered over his cheek, his fingers swiping through the spittle before he was shaking it from them and standing back to his full height.

"It appears this one is never going to cooperate. If she won't give us information, why let our experimentations on her possibly...benefit the girl the the future?" The general spoke menacingly to the guards behind me. "How about way find a way to shut her up?"

My heat thudded so hard in my chest it was like someone was punching me from the inside, all air knocked from my lungs before I was being hoisted up to my feet again with two rough grips on my upper arms. My chest heaving, I coughed a ragged breath before composing myself. The glint of the silver blade in the corner of my vision sent my eyes bugging out of my skull and my mind into a flat panic.

So, I did what any rational person with my capabilities would do. I began to hum the deep melody - one a seldom sung - and a smirk crawled its way onto my now curved lips. Clearly, the general was prepared, but the two guards behind we weren't so lucky.

A desperate cry pierced my tune, harmonising with my voice as I heard the havoc I was causing. This was the first time I'd enjoyed a kill, the very first time I'd wanted to use my powers for such a horrific reason. I'd only ever used this part of my power a few times, but this was the only time I'd been fully lucid whilst doing so.

Some people want nothing more than to blow their enemies' brains out, and trust me when I tell you; It felt good.

However, luck was never on my side, and the General had come full prepared. He wasn't even affected, it must've been something to do with the funny earpiece he was wearing.

As my eyes met his, the General's face held non of the cocky, smug tones that I'd expect. No, the only word I could use to describe his old and crinkled features was pure ire, and it was directed at me.

"You conniving, vile little bitch!" He snarled, the flash of silver weeding a sense of utter and complete dread, tangled with fear inside of me, uprooting my confidence. I don't remember a lot after that, to tell you the truth. I know the blade sliced along my throat. I know everything was rained black. And that's about it.

...

Awakening with a gasp was the last thing I expected to happen. The sight of the blade risen in front of the general burned into my mind, almost as if it'd been scorned against my flesh. But here I was: awake, gasping for breath, completely surrounded by doctors I'd never seen before.

My hand instantly flew to my neck, a stinging sensation pulsing from the delicate skin. I hissed as my sweaty palm made contact with the bandage, the material corse and scratchy against my skin. As a doctor waddled over to me, needle in hand, I flailed desperately, a silent scream ripping from my throat.

Hang on a second-

Silent scream? I tried again, the shrill noise that should be tearing from me simply vanishing as it hit my throat. My eyes widened with the realisation, my bottom lip wobbling as I suddenly pieces together what had happened.

He said he'd have to shut me up, didn't he? The thought made me want to scream loudly, that the blade had touched my skin and left me with no defence.

They took away the hell they'd reigned upon me, something I'd wished I could be rid of for years, and now I was disappointed. Maybe this was their plan all along, that little voice in my head sang. The tears pricked at my eyes, which rolled back lazily as the scratch of the needle poked at my neck.

...

My calloused fingers ran over the cut tirelessly, trying to itch somewhere that I could never seem to find. I don't know how long I was sedated for, but since waking up the bleeding had stopped and there was now an offensive red line that slid horizontally across my neck.

Every time I touched it, it coaxed a wince from me, and yet that's all I seemed to do. It was like poking a bruise, I guess. The more it hurts the more you want to do it.

They'd returned me to my cell, clearly very little need for restraints against my weakened, starved and dehydrated body. I could see the flesh thinning on my arms, my ribs pressing painfully against my skin. Not only could I see the hunger, but I could feel it.

Manifesting, biting, gnawing hunger. The type that are you from inside out, devouring everything of you until the only thing you could think about was eating. Huh, I guess I was already at that stage then.

My eyes remained locked in place, glossy with the endless tears as I stared at the floor. If I really looked hard enough, the still wet blood smeared over the floors of the hallway resembled something close to strawberry jam. The thoughts of the sickly sweat substance spread over a perfectly toasted piece of bread, accompanied with a big glass of fresh orange juice and washed down by a large coffee made my mouth water. The booming rumble in my stomach made the groan, even more drawn out than expected when I remembered all I'd get to eat today: a small bread roll and a tiny glass of water.

Sadly, the sink in my cell did not contain drinking water. The liquid was so discoloured that I purposely avoided washing me hands, preferring to possible have my own germs coating my hands than whatever they were giving me. I'm not kicking you about, I genuinely think the water was filtered through a clump of fucking horse shit, mixed with fish guts and complimented with a hint of rotting fruit. If I could help it, I'd be dodging that water like the plague (if it didn't contain one already) for the rest of my life.

I'm not really sure why, but my head snapped up in surprise why the door sprang open, a single guard entering.

"The general requires your presence." He deadpanned, eyes cold as eyes and sharp as a knife as they stabbed through me. I wanted to fight back, stay glued to the spot and snap back some snarky remark, but in my current condition I almost couldn't bring myself to care where I was about to be taken, or why for that matter.

I stood without a word, silently following the man until we reached an unfamiliar metal door. I found it almost laughable, really, that they'd reduced my strength so much, that no one even considered putting me any sort of restraints anymore.

The door was pushed open with a child-like whine emitting from its rusty hinges, the metal scraping over the concrete floor painfully. The guard simply grabbed my arm before tugging me into the room, letting the door shut behind his with a hollow thunk.

"Ah, she has arrived!" The general's voice exclaimed, a deviant smile spreading over his thin lips. "And just in time to meet Mr Pierce, too." He said menacingly.

I felt embarrassed, exposed, stood before the room of men. My hair was a mess, tears streaking my reddened face, eyes puffy from crying and the only clothes a wore was a now-battered hospital gown. My eyes darted around nervously, trying to avoid the blonde man sat before me, chin resting in his palm as he surveyed me.

"Why is this one...important?" The man asked, eyeing me up and down before his eyes seemed to fixate on my neck. The scar.

"This," the general spoke, but Mr Pierce kept his eyes on me, "is Miss y/n Stark." Mr Pierce's eyes widened ever so slightly, but it was barely noticeable.

"As in Tony Stark?" Pierce pondered.

"The very same." The general smirked.

"She seems awfully...quiet, for a Stark." Pierce said with almost a hint of disgust, eyes still glued to my shaking frame.

"That's because we shut her up." The general snapped, awfully harshly.

"Is that the scar? How fresh is it?" Pierce jabbed his questions, curiosity clearly becoming him in the moment.

"Indeed. Our doctors here are very good, Sir. They had her all patched up and out of bandages in just three days." The general bragged, shoulders back and head held high as if he was posing for a portrait.

"I see." Pierce mused, brows furrowed in thought. "What do you plan to do with her? Now that she can't tell you anything?"

"Oh, trust me, sir. She wasn't giving anything up either way," he paused, striding over to me and yanking my head back with a fistful of hair, my back mow  pressed to his chest and his mouth at my ear, "isn't that right, sweetheart?"he clarified, and I didn't hesitate to nod my head as much as his grip would allow.

"So why isn't she dead?" Pierce gritted, seemingly annoyed. "It's not like Tony's attached to her, he never looked for her and I've never even heard him mention her."

"But then they'll keep coming. I don't want the avengers on my back, and I'm sure you don't either." Pierce hummed in agreement. "She's with them - her and that Captain America guy arrived together - so why not use her to send a message?" The general suggested.

...

That's how I found myself tied up, wrists bound and gun to my head as I sat shakily in a chair in the middle of the quinjet. I had no clue how long I'd been since that day, but I do know that I had been sedated once again. The flimsy hospital gown allowed a shiver to chill me, skin  forming goosebumps as I sat before the open door or the quinjet.

"You will tell them exactly as I just did. Got it?" The general pressed, pushing the gun into my head hard enough to make by head throb. Tears biting at my eyes, I nodded furiously, now determined to live with the promise of being free again. "Good. Soldat, make sure she gets back to New York without being seen, I'd hate to have to spill more blood than we intended." The general demanded, a figure rustling its way out of the shadows at the edge of the room. A gasp tore from my throat at the sight of him - clad in black leather and arm as silver as the moon. The soldier - my soldier.

But he simple stared through me, eyes blank and clouded in a coldness I'd never had directed at me from him before.

"And make sure you don't fail this time, soldat." The general snapped. The soldier nodded solemnly, the echoing of boots thudding filling both their ears as the general walked off the ship.

[pleasereadmeok]

Can you help me please? I'm sure you had an English translation of Matthew's interview with Style Italia (2017?) on your blog however I can't find it. Can you help? Thank you. A Goode fan x

Hi Anon - yes of course. This one right? ⬇️

It's such a great interview with some lovely personal details from Matthew. @di-elle kindly did a translation for the matthew-goode.net press archive a few years ago so that follows ⬇️. Enjoy. : -

Matthew Goode is one of the most recognizable British actors of his generation. 38 years old, tall, slender, handsome, with a face composed of classic proportions and precise features that lends itself to both modern settings and period dramas.A look that’s allowed him to dive immediately into the world of Match Point, Brideshead Revisited, The Imitation Game, and A Single Man. In the last season of Downton Abbey, he was one of the most beloved characters as Lady Mary’s husband, a role that brought him popularity with the television audience. Now he appears with Brad Pitt and Marion Cotillard in Allied.Skill,talent, determination and a bit of luck (essential in this business) have made Goode a sought-after and versatile actor, without affecting his overwhelming pleasantness and playfulness onset and off that serve as useful talents as well.In the penthouse of the London hotel where he is being photographed, he strokes the oval marble bathtub sitting in the middle of the room (‘So cool!’), gets enthusiastic by touching the clothes, the collars of the shirts, and the wool of the jackets.

Do you like design?I love it, even if it is my wife who has the eye for it.In front of the mirror, in the barber’s and makeup artist’s hands, he is a bundle of energy.  He is worried about Brexit (‘What’s happened? Where are we going?’) but happy to be able to buy a house. He is a little anxious, too, about the last phone call from his bank: ‘Being an actor means  living day by day. Banks don’t like it.’

Psychologically what does it entail?During dry spells you can lose confidence and believe that you will never work again. It’s not easy.

However you are not lacking jobs. How  was working  on Allied?Movies are strange beasts. You come, you spend two days on the set, you shoot your own scenes and you go. Despite this it was electrifying as it can be a film of these proportions. There was an atmosphere of great professionalism and harmony. Brad Pitt is a great person. He welcomed me fondly, as did Marion Cotillard. I had already met them both, but they are always like that, even with those they don’t know.

Is variety important to you?It’s the essence of life, isn’t it? At the end  the face and the voice are always those and if you specialize in a genre, it’s not easy to come out of it. It’s hard for me to resist period movies, it’s a great temptation. Costumes and interiors have a very strong charm.

Your name was made for the Bond role…I’ve sabotaged myself. Barbara Broccoli  (the film producer) called me and I didn’t realize it was an audition. I thought it was just a chat. She asked me what I thought of Bond. I was honest , I told her that the way it is today doesn’t work. They need to scale down the budget, and make the character more complicated, go back to the origin from the books: a dark, difficult, incomprehensible man. At the end she said goodbye and I didn’t hear from her again. Maybe sometimes it’s better to keep your mouth shut.

Do you like going to movies?There’s a little bit of jealousy to overcome but generally yes. I’d like to see Tom Ford’s new movie, Nocturnal Animals. He is a genius, he has an eye like no other. A Single Man should have won more awards. Ford was born as a stylist but he is a real artist.

Are you not tempted to move to the USA?I have three children and I want them to grow up here. I don’t like to go too far away. I told my agent I don’t want to work in the US for a year.

Is Matthew Goode a good father?It depends on the days. The noise stresses me. If there are two children crying, or screaming, I panic. In those cases, my wife takes care of it.

What do you do at home?I cook. It’s less tiring than playing with a one-year-old child… I can do a little of everything: my father taught me the first recipes when I was about to start university. Over the years I have made a leap in quality, from scrambled eggs to stews.

Your best recipe?Beef and Guinness stew. Two or three parsnips, a couple of carrots, two onions, some mushrooms. Two pounds of meat, a little flour. Mix it up, then slap it in the pot. Salt, pepper, some herbs and some beer. I love it. You put it on, you go get the kids from school, and when you come back, the house smells of dinner.

The role you’ve always wanted.Sherlock Holmes. Damn it, Benedict Cumberbatch has stolen it from me! Joking aside, it’s Jeffrey Bernard in the comedy Jeffrey Bernard is Unwell, by Keith Waterhouse. Many years ago I saw Peter O’Toole in it and I’ve never forgotten. But you need to be 50 or 60 years old for it, so I’ll have to wait a little longer.

Did you want to be an actor as a child?My mother would say yes. Actually I discovered my path later in life. For a while I wanted to be an archaeologist, because my father was a geologist. One day one of my university mates went to audition for an acting school and I said: Why not, I should try it too. Finding an agent was a stroke of luck. Then the fight for survival began. It’s a slow and complicated road.

From the outside you look like someone who made it.(It may look that way) now, but like with everything when you start you are at the first step, you look up and say: I’ll never get there.

What’s your secret to overcome difficult moments?I have stopped watching the films I make. This has helped me a lot. You can’t control how they cut and edit your character. You can only control the experience, what you give and what gives to you. The result is almost insignificant. After a few years it can be fun watching yourself because you seem very young.

Do you practice sport a lot?I go to the gym in the morning, to start the day well. Twice a week I go out for lunch with my wife: and since I like to eat, and occasionally even drink, the gym is imperative. I also play golf but it takes time, it’s not an activity that fits well with a big family.

Your ideal holiday?I have fond memories of my childhood, camping with my father, the fishing rod, the green. I’d like to take my children. My wife resists for now.

What do you read?I hate to admit it, but I read very little. By the time I go to bed, I’m too tired.

A luxury?We’re planning how to sort out the house. If I could afford it I’d buy one of those enormous american washing machines with a tumble dryer.  It’s not what you’d expect from a star, is it?

[today-only-happens-once]

Hello hello hello??? I need to know more about how hiccup fits into the au? This is. I love this.

OKAY OKAY OKAY so I just finished the first movie for the first time (don’t @ me) but here’s what I’ve got having not seen the other two (though I’ve seen part of the second):

Hiccup is majoring in zoology with a minor in mechanical engineering and meets Percy in a marine bio course the second semester of their freshmen year

They become lab partners and their sense of humor is so similar that they hit it off and Hiccup kind of becomes their adopted-fourth-roommate anyway towards the end of their freshmen year

They all notice his prosthetic foot but Percy saw enough in his battles and kids at camp that it doesn’t really phase him. Peter is similar, what with Rhodey and Bucky’s prosthetics. And Danny’s just super chill in general.

When they first meet, they do the usual “oh where are you from?” and Hiccup just answers “Berk. It’s this small island off the coast of Denmark.” 

He decided to do college in the States as part of an exchange program originally, but liked it so much he just decided to transfer instead. 

One time at a party someone asked him what happened to his foot and Hiccup just goes “oh. I lost it in a dragon fight” and everyone took it as a joke.

(Also if you thought this was going to be a “toothless is his cat AU” you are mistaken. Toothless is still VERY MUCH A REAL DRAGON)

So we get to this point where Peter, Danny, and Percy all know about the secret double life the others lead, but now in their sophomore year they have to keep it a secret from their Totally Normal Definitely Not Leading a Double Life Roommate, Hiccup. 

And Hiccup assumes his other roommates are normal and therefore must keep his I Have a Pet Dragon life a secret because he knows that dragons are widely regarded as completely fictional and that it would be very bad for all involved if that was a secret that got out past the safe confines of his hometown island. 

Toothless stays in the forest/caves nearby their college, and Hiccup visits basically every day under the guise of “I have a field assignment for a zoology class”. 

U N T I L

the boys get attacked by a good old friend of Danny’s, Johnny 13, who all the boys have tussled with before (except Hiccup) while they’re hanging out in a nearby park with Sam, Annabeth, and MJ.

Which turns into a little bit hilarious because Peter has to pretend to take off running and hide so he can switch to his spider-man gear behind like, a tree when he thinks Hiccup isn’t paying attention. (Thankfully he’s got it set up so it’s seconds for his suit to appear around him) and Danny does basically the same thing to Go Ghost.

Percy’s just like “I guess the cat’s out of the bag” and uncaps Riptide without even bothering to hide it because he has to defend Hiccup, right?

Hiccup ends up taking a hit, and when he yelps in pain... well. It brings Toothless running.

Johnny 13 is pretty easy to defeat because he’s drastically outnumbered and Sam doesn’t go anywhere without a Fenton Thermos anyway. 

But once Hiccup gets Toothless to realize the threat isn’t around anymore, and that none of his roommates or their girlfriends are threats either, he starts to panic. 

Cue Toothless meeting the whole gang. 

Peter looks like he’s about to pass out because supervillains? He’s used to it. He even got used to Greek monsters from the ones that have gone after Percy in the last year. But DRAGONS?? (Annabeth has a similar reaction but is MUCH better at hiding her surprise)

Percy is surprised, but not as surprised as Peter. He’s seen some creatures he once thought were mythical before, and he mentions Mrs. O’Leary when chatting with Hiccup about befriending unexpected “”monsters””

Danny thinks of Cujo is probably the least surprised by it, tbh. He’s seen dragons in the ghost zone. (Sam has the same thought, to be honest.) 

MJ is just like “I knew you couldn’t be normal and hang with us.” 

Hiccup still panics because even if his friends are surprisingly chill about it, a DRAGON was just seen IN PUBLIC but then Annabeth tells him not to worry. He’s close enough to Annabeth and Percy, who were both part of the fight, that the Mist probably obscures people’s understanding of what they’re seeing anyway. (Hiccup doesn’t really get what that means, but he sees that none of the passer-bys seem to be paying him much mind and he’s like “....huh.”) 

[joyful-soul-collector]

General Marvel Fanfic Rec List

Beware of Overworked Spiders by wellihaveakeyboard (Pt. 1 of Peter and Wade Roommates)

Summary: Peter has to finish a paper and Wade makes him eat

Relationships/Tropes: Spideypool, Peter Overworks Himself, Peter Parker Needs A Hug, Rommates

Review: This was so cute!!! I loved how caring Wade was for Peter, making sure he ate when his stomach was rumbling and making sure he slept when he was exhausted. Just so cute and sweet

❄️

Another Day in New York by @timidturnip 

Summary: The five times Spider-Man thought Deadpool and Venom were up to no good and the one time they were.

Relationships/Tropes: Spideypool, Deadpool and Venom, Peter Parker and Venom, Jealous Peter Parker, Misunderstandings

Review: I loved this story! It was so sweet how Wade had assumed Peter only liked him because he gave him free food, but Peter actually loved to spend time with him and free food was a good excuse (as well as a bonus, he's a hungry spider)

❄️

Walking up the wall by @jen27ny

Summary: “I once read a one shot where Peter without thinking starts walking up the walls, and Ned has to tackle him to the ground so no one can see. Can you maybe write something similar except it’s MJ that tackles him? And Peter who has a crush on him gets all embarrassed and red. Also she tackles him in the hallways where a bunch of classmates are. Something really cute and fluffy and full of spideychelle”

Relationships/Tropes: Spideychelle, Sleepy Peter Parker

Review: This was just hilarious, I love sleepy Peter accidently doing things that could reveal his identity as Spider-Man

❄️

Paradise (spread out with a butter knife) by @sarah-sandwich

Summary: He sighs from where he’s prone, arms akimbo, and roof gravel digging into his spine. “I lost my job. My… other job. The one that actually pays the bills.”

He doesn’t want to dwell on why he’s telling Deadpool of all people. Surely it has nothing to do with his desperate lack of friends. MJ is in California chasing her dreams, Harry’s undergoing treatment for his mental health and isn’t allowed visitors (not that it matters since they blacklisted Peter after last time), and Gwen… Well.

And it’s not like he can talk to Aunt May without her worrying about him starving to death under a bridge or something so… Deadpool it is. Man, when did his life get this pathetic?

OR: The one where Peter and Wade are literal soulmates but don't realize it for literal years because they're literal idiots.

Relationships/Tropes: Spideypool, Wade Wilson & Old People, Wade Wilson and May Parker, Peter Parker and May Parker, Soulmate AU, Mutual Pining

Review:  I loved every single word of this story :'] I've been reading it for a while and it just finished! Every time Peter assured Wade he didn't care about his skin, every time Wade gave Peter food when he was hungry, every time they cuddled while watching a movie, I swear I smiled like a maniac. Thank you so much for writing this lovely story, and you all should check it out!

❄️

“Can’t you stay a little longer?” by @tony-the-mage

Summary: Tony is hungover and adorable

Relationships/Tropes: Ironhusbands, Hangovers, Sleepy Tony Stark

Review:  This was so sweet! I love how clingy sleepy Tony is <3

❄️

we fell in love in october by @frostysunflowers

Summary: "You wanna get some popcorn?" he asks, the question leaving his mouth in a garbled burst.

Jim shrugs. "Depends. You like yours with extra butter?"

"No, I’m not a heathen," Tony scoffs without thinking, only to feel a snap of panic as Jim gives a gasp of offence, though it quickly turns into something warm as he spots the teasing smirk on the other boy’s face.

"You’ve got no taste, you mean."

"Says you."

or

Who knew watching scary movies could lead to falling in love?

Relationships/Tropes: Ironhusbands, High School AU, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings

Review: Awwwww this story was just too freaking perfect. Rhodey and Tony were so adorable, and this showed their romance blossoming so perfectly man! I loved every single word

❄️

Needles by @toosicktoocare

Summary: “hi! can i request one where peter needs to get a flu shot in medbay and he has a fear of needles? plus points if there's steve and bucky! thank you!”

Relationships/Tropes: Stucky, Peter & Bucky, Peter & Steve, Peter Parker IS Afraid Of Needles, Soft Bucky

Review: This was so sweet! I love how Bucky comforted Peter, and how well the author described his fear and anxiety around getting the shot

❄️

If you look at any these stories, be sure to show the author your appreciation with a comment/kudos/reblog where applicable!

Click here for more fanfic rec lists!

[thetiredbiwrites]

And then...

Dad!Tony x Son!Reader

(mentions of Uncle Rhodey)

Anon: // hello can you do angsty tony x Son reader. Tony and reader has strained relationship and they we're not in good terms, Tony prefer Peter than his son but it got change when both of them got kidnapped, they been together for a few days and slowly they reconciled. Soon they got save by the avengers but the Son Reader notice that one kidnapper pulled a weapon to Tony then R save his father, he got shot then Tony is scared to see his son dying. Its up to you the ending. ☺

A/N: Thank you for the Tony request 🤗🤗 Hope this is ok! (I love dad!Tony, I think he’d be so good...even though this fic is on a different note🤔😂)

Warnings: Cliff hanger end. It was getting pretty long and I wanted to upload something before bed (which also means it hasn’t been checked but oh well, I’ll re-read it tomorrow) BUT I do plan on doing a part 2 :)

(Also swearing, just always assume swearing)

Words: 3100+

Tony’s relationship with his son had always been strained. Ever since he was practically dumped on his doorstep at 4 years old.

Tony had no prior knowledge that he has a kid, none of the women he’s been with had ever even told him they were pregnant. But if he was being honest with himself, it didn’t surprise him. With the way he got around it was bound to happen eventually.

He just wished he’d known from the beginning.

Having a 4 year old left in his care with no warning put him in a whole new territory he was completely unprepared for.

A baby gives you time to prepare and are essentially a ‘blank slate’ at birth. A 4 year old has experiences, like and dislikes, routines, a connection to someone who abandons them with a stranger…

At the time, Tony was still a playboy, out at events and travelling a lot. As well as CEO of a company manufacturing weapons for the military. He didn’t have time for a child. To break through recently arisen trust and abandonment issues and build a relationship.

He cared about his son. Always made sure he had everything he needed or wanted, a good education and was in good health. But forming personal, emotional connections can’t be done with money, and Tony could barley cope with his own true emotions.

It quickly became clear that they did not share talents or interest in maths, sciences or mechanics. His son struggled especially with maths and Tony initially really did try to help, finally thinking something was in his element and he could bond.

But elementary (followed by middle and high) maths was so simple and automatic for Tony’s brain that he found it difficult to slow down and explain the process to the young boy.

He hired a tutor in his place.

That’s not to say Tony expected or needed his son to be a genius in the same subjects as him. He didn’t need his son to follow him (or his father) to be worthy of his time. But it would have made it easier.

Instead, his son excelled in English and arts, and was amazing in the kitchen. He loved to write stories, create pictures to accompany them and experimenting with new recipes.

Unfortunately, Tony did not excel in these areas, thus distancing them further.

At least he wasn’t taking after his father though. He didn’t force his son into one path or degrade him. No forcing him to grow up, giving him alcohol at a ridiculously young age or sending him away to be completely alone.

Tony often wondered himself if he’d have taken the path he did if his father hadn’t pushed him. If he’d be the same person without the verbal abuse and constant neglect of his father.

He wasn’t blind to his emotional distance and lack of bond to his son. Or to the connection the boy had to both Rhodey and Pepper. He could see that his son was connect to the two people he trusted the most and he was glad.

When Rhodey was available, being in the air force meant he wasn’t always around, he made sure to take the boy out, go to school events and even read his stories, giving feedback and support.

Pepper made herself available if he ever needed to talk and was always willing to taste test.

Even Happy was around to take him where he needed to go, training in the gym and joke with.

So even if the young boy didn’t have a relationship with his father, he had adults around to support and love him and help him through life.

It didn’t stop him wishing he did have a relationship to his father though.

 While MIA in Afghanistan, Tony realised he wanted to try harder to build a relationship to his nearly teenaged son.

It didn’t happen.

He returned home and completely changed his company, which required a lot of time. His guilt also led in him to putting on that damn suit and trying to save the world.

And then he nearly died from palladium poisoning.

And then New York was attacked by aliens and the avengers were formed.

And then Tony had PTSD; anxiety, panic attacks and nightmares.

And then ‘terrorists’ blew up their house and nearly killed Happy and Pepper.

And then murderous robots.

And then the avengers broke up.

And then Tony worked with the UN to amend the accords and set up more help and cleaning crews. Back to lots of travelling.

And then…

And then… Peter.

It never eased up and his son turned 18.

His son made excuses over the years. He genuinely was busy and obviously struggled with relationships. Maybe he’s just not paternal? You can’t blame someone for trying to save lives either.

Of course he was aware it isn’t all on Tony, he could have tried harder to bond with his father as well.

But then Peter came along.

Scientifically and mathematically gifted Peter.

Superhero Peter.

Enthusiastic, smart and funny 15 year old Peter.

And then Tony had the time.

He made the time.

For Peter.

To talk to him. Help with his homework and superheroing.

Teaching him. Training him.

They spent a lot of time in the workshop and lab.

Tony was always so interested in what Peter had to say. Whether is was about science or mechanics, school, spider-man or even teenage romance.

It came so easily and naturally to Tony.

He had the time.

Even the team had noticed this relationship and dubbed them ‘Iron-Dad and Spider-Son’.

That hurt.

The time he overheard Clint comment, ‘why couldn’t we have had dad-Tony this whole time?’ really stung.

Tony’s been a dad, to a son, the entire time he’s known the avengers.

He didn’t hate Peter though. It’s not his fault and he’s actually perfectly nice. But to see his father so easily bond with another kid in a short time made him realise that he’d never get that father-son relationship.

Tony is paternal. Just not for him.

--

His eyes fluttered open, the ground cold against his face.

Wait, ground? What-

A groan passed his lips as he sat up, pressing a hand to the side of his head where pain radiated.

He blinked the fuzziness from his eyes, trying to remember how he got there, but the last thing he could recall was leaving the Stark Industries event after supporting Pepper.

The room was dull and very basic. With stone walls and floor, no windows, one dim light and two metal framed beds so rusty they would probably break under his weight.

As he glanced back down to the ground, he noticed another body in the room. They were still slumped on the ground and back to him.

Scrambling across the floor, he pushed on the mans shoulder to lay in on his back and see his face.

Dad?

Quickly he checked for a pulse and when he was satisfied with the regular thumping, he moved away, letting out a sigh of relief.

With his back to the wall, arms resting on his bent knees, he waited.

It was only a short while later when Tony began to wake. Groaning and sitting up in the same manner his son had moments earlier.

“Oh God, what the hell-where am I?” He mumbled, clearly unaware he wasn’t alone.

“I was hoping you’d know the answer”

Tony’s head snapped over at the grumbled voice to see his son.

“Y/N. What- what are you doing here?”

“hell if I know. Can’t imagine why anyone would take me. I generally don’t piss people off and I’m neither an Avenger or a tech genius.”

“Maybe they mistook you for me” Tony joke, completely oblivious to his sons disinterested and cold tone.

He shuffled back to lean against the opposite wall as his son scoffed.

“Sorry kid, you got the Stark looks.”

“Yeah, that’s all I got” the young man mumbled, leaning his head back on the wall, closing his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

Silence fell between them until the door opened.

The two men rose to their feet as two armed guards entered the room, a third following with a tray of unappealing food and bottled water.

Neither Stark was acknowledged as the tray was placed on one of the beds and they turned to leave. They even ignored Tony’s incessant questioning and cocky attitude.

His son stayed silent, taking on of the bottles as he sat back on the floor, still not ready to trust the beds.

“Could they just answer a simple question? They got to have a fucking reason for this.”

“Whatever it is I wish they’d just hurry up with it.”

“What, are you bored? Got places to be?” Tony asked, before taking his seat back on the floor.

“Yes, actually. I have an interview Monday and I’m not ready.”

“An interview? What for?”

“Like you actually care.”

“Hey, that’s not-“ Tony began to object but his son looked over at him and cut him off.

“Unless it’s about Peter or Superhero shit, you don’t want to know. You haven’t magically become interested, you just don’t like the silence and unfortunately I’m the only one here. You never cared about what was actually happening in my life before, why start now?”

Tony stared at his son in shock. It’s hard to make The Tony Stark speechless, but right now he had no words at all.

As his son dropped his head back to the wall, looking away from him, Tony couldn’t take his eyes off his son.

Thoughts ran through his head as he examined his son, becoming aware of how little he really did know.

-When did he get so tall? Not tall-tall though, definitely the Stark gene at work there.

-That suit makes him look so grown up, even if those a-holes took our jackets and shoes. Why did they take our shoes? No. Not important. Focus.

-I care about my son. Come on Tony, think. Something.

-School? Crap, when did I last even read a report card? He’s always aced English. Didn’t he do band? No, shit, that was Peter. Goddamnit, is he right?

“You’re 18.”

“Well done. You want a medal?”

“Is the interview for college?”

His son still didn’t move, wouldn’t even look at him.

“Please, Y/N. I-I know I’ve not really been… present in your life. But I do care about you.”

“Do you?” His eyes burned long repressed anger and Tony prepared himself for everything that was coming. He knew he’d deserve it too.

“You gave up so easily. It was too hard to bond with your idiot son, a shy kid who couldn’t understand simple maths. You’d rather be with women and go to parties, and the company always came first. All you did was throw money at things. For year I was fine with it, you using money to help me. I had more than more. It was clear you struggled with relationships of any kind and I was just dumped on you with no warning. It was fine because I had Rhodey, Pepper and Happy. They were there to talk to, they taught me things and supported me, Rhodey would go to school events whenever he could. I just figured maybe you’re not a paternal person. Then you became Iron Man and started saving the world and I can’t be mad about that.”

Tony stayed silent and watched as his son stood up, running a hand through his hair as he began to pace.

“Then you met Harley and kept in touch with him. You upgraded his garage into a high-tech lab. But he did help you save Pepper and the President so I guess you owed him and I didn’t let it bother me. It wasn’t until Peter came along that I noticed that you are one of the most naturally paternal people I know. You became his father figure, took him in so quickly, bonding immediately. If he needed help, you were there. He wanted to talk, you listened. Whether it’s out being Iron Man and Spider-man, training him, helping him with his school work or just locking yourselves in the workshop for hours building new shit. You’re always there for him. He witters on about some stupid crush for 25 minutes and you hang on every word. But you couldn’t do that for me?! What, did I need to be a genius at maths?! Interested in building extravagant technology?! Would you have noticed me then? You know, you went to Peter’s science show last month but you’ve never been to any of my school events. It was always Rhodey, Pepper and Happy a couple times, or no-one. But never you.”

The young man stared at his father, chest heaving, eyes burning as he held back tears. Yet Tony said nothing. He couldn’t take his eyes off his son. Lips parted and eyes glistening with unshed tears, he just sat, no words coming out.

“Yeah I’m 18 any yeah it’s a college interview. I graduate in a few weeks, Rhodey’s going. I’ve already been accepted to a couple colleges. Only a few months and I can leave.”

He didn’t give Tony a chance to respond as he risked the bed, laying down and facing the wall as he focused on bringing his breathing back to normal.

Behind him, his father watched on as tears fell down his face, guilt taking over his whole being.

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the night. While his son eventually fell asleep, Tony stayed on the floor, thinking through everything his son told him and looking back over the years.

The following morning, two guard came in and took Tony away.

They brought him back a few hours later, unharmed. The younger Stark watched as Tony worried his bottom lip and fussed with his clothes. He noted the troubled look on his father’s face and it was clear that whatever the kidnappers told him wasn’t good at all.

But he remained silent.

Eventually Tony settled, sitting on the floor again. But the two still didn’t speak for a few more hours.

“I’m sorry,” Tony finally broke through the silence and tense atmosphere of the confined space.

His son remained silent but his eyes moved up to look at him. This was enough of an acknowledgement that he was listening and so Tony continued.

“You might not believe that, but I am. I don’t know why it was so hard or why it was so easy with Peter. I didn’t- It wasn’t intentional, I didn’t even realise.”

The young Stark kept his eyes on his father but his face stayed blank and lips sealed.

“And you know, just because maths and science subjects didn’t come naturally to you doesn’t mean you’re an idiot. I’ve never once thought you were. I know the Stark name has become so tied to them, mechanics, advanced technology and engineering… but it doesn’t mean you’re not…good enough? Because you don’t follow that. I never thought you should have been, it didn’t-didn’t disappoint me or anything. But you were always so talented in arts, you wrote the most amazing stories and a complete natural in the kitchen. Things I’m not so great at. It just made it harder for me to figure out how to connect. I didn’t know where to start.”

A small smile flashed across his face, eyes glazed as he recalled the past.

“Y’know, I loved those stories about the uh, the dragons that live on your shoulder. I’d find drawings and paintings of them all over the house, and it was a big house!”

Across from him, his son’s head raised a little higher, eyebrows subtly furrowing and looked at the soft expression on his father’s face. He had no idea Tony even know about those.

“I should have been there, tried harder. There’s no excuse for that. But I have always cared. You were just so talented in things I didn’t understand. Then I saw how close you and Rhodey became and-“

Tony let out a sigh, looking away from his son.

“You were left with me, an egotistical ass and a- a playboy. I didn’t think I deserved you. You deserved someone better. Someone emotionally available and mature. Someone to help you grow into an amazing person and progress your talents. Someone like Rhodey. He deserved you and you him. He was -and is- better for you. You were loved and supported by him, and then Pepper and Happy, so I – I thought you’d be ok. That you wouldn’t need me.”

Once again it was all quiet in the small room. This time Tony wouldn’t look at his son, but he couldn’t take his eyes off his father.

“I did need you.”

His voice was raspy as he admitted this to not only Tony but himself.

“Rhodey’s the best. I love him. Couldn’t have asked for a better Uncle. But that’s what he is; my Uncle. You were supposed to be my Dad. I shouldn’t have had a father figure when my father was right there. You were so cool, before and after becoming Iron Man. You made everything around you seem like fun. I didn’t understand the tech crap but- I’m an artist. I can, and did, design things. It’s not all on you, I didn’t make it easy.”

“You were a kid, it is on me. But, maybe- When we get out of here I’ll do better. I want to be an active part in your life. I also understand if it’s too late though.”

“It’s not. It’ll take time but, I’d like that. Rhodey might get jealous though.”

A huffed laugh slipped past Tony’s lips as they spread into a smile on his face when his son cracked a grin.

They continued to talk into the night, about school, which colleges and courses, friends and dating. Once they started they couldn’t stop.

It is hard to shut up a Stark.

They were laughing about one of Tony’s stories of his time in MIT with Rhodey when an explosion shook the room.

The men stood up and faced the door as the sounds of fighting and yelling grew nearer. A smirk spread on Tony’s face as he recognised the noises of his teammates.

It wasn’t long before the door was broken down and Captain America stood in it’s place.

“Bout damn time. Did you stop for coffee?”

“Yeah, yeah, tin man. You’re welcome.” Hawkeye quipped as they walked down the halls.

Rhodey broke through to get to his nephew’s side, checking him over and ensuring he was ok.

Tony led the group to the main room. The kidnappers had access to files and tech that would be too dangerous to leave.

As Tony wiped everything, quips flowing between him and his teammates, none of them noticed the man sneak in through another door.

The younger Stark moved before his brain could even process what was happening, placing himself between his father and the gun that was raised to his back.

*bang*

[mshermia]

FEBUWHUMP DAY 25 - CAR ACCIDENT

On a cold winter night on their way home after a dinner at the Stark's cabin, Peter, May and Happy get into an accident. Tony rushes to the scene to help, terrified that it might be too late.

-----

It's still Febuary *somewhere* in the world, right? Also, is there a penalty for starting too many WIPs? Asking for a friend...

AO3 Link

CW: (Minor) Characted Death

-----

Tony's heart was racing. It was beating so fast he'd had to silence FRIDAY's emergency alert twice, overriding the blaring alarm entirely the second time to just make her shut up. It was sheer panic that had his pulse spin out of control and there was nothing, nothing that FRIDAY's empty words and warnings would do about it.

The road was dark and winding, trees closely lining either side of him. Despite the snow and ice that hung heavy on the branches and had powdered the ground into what Morgan had described as a 'winter wonderland', the road was dry and clear. Just as well because Tony was driving as fast as he dared. Maybe a little faster than that.

It didn't matter that he was speeding. He was still not going fast enough to keep the horror scenarios at bay, the nagging fear that every attempt he made now would be too little, too late anyway. They might be dead already.

Tony pulled in a deep breath through his teeth that sounded too close to a sob even to his own ear. Desperate, he pressed down a bit further on the gas paddle but instead of going even faster, the car suddenly lost a significant amount of speed.

"What the fuck is happening?" His hand hit the steering wheel, his foot coming down harder on the accelerator. "FRIDAY, for fuck's sake--"

"Boss, we are only about three miles out from the last signal I received from Peter Parker's car. The heightened possibility of an active game path or hidden black ice that could have led to the accident increase the closer--"

"FRIDAY, override code two-double-seven Stark."

"Override denied."

Tony cursed, followed by a deep guttural groan. "I will fucking melt you down to your integral components if you don't do as I tell you right this second!"

"I'm afraid you cannot use your override code again for another 23 hours and 49 minutes."

"For fuck's sake, FRIDAY! Fucking get me there as fast as possible!"

He should have just taken a suit. He hadn't been thinking, had just reacted. His suits had been stored and locked away in the basement of the cabin for years. Three and a half years of retirement had changed his instincts more than he had realized and now, he was fucked for it.

It had been such a great day. Just that morning he had been out in the snow with Morgan. The older she got the harder a task it was to drag her out of the house for some fresh air with her old man, but as soon as he had her out the door in the snow, it was a joy.

Peter, May and Happy had arrived with cake in the afternoon and then stayed through dinner. The three of them had grown so close over the years. It had been hard work, no doubt. As much as the survivors had suffered after the Snap, the undoing of it came with its own struggles.

Tony should have made them stay the night. He should have just fucking made them!

The miles were crawling by and Tony's eyes flashed back and forth between the road ahead and the map where the GPS signal of the car was blinking red and rapidly, mocking him. 

The location it indicated was right by the river. If the car had skidded off the street, if they had slipped into the water. The temperatures were way below freezing out there. If they had hit the water...

Tony's stomach turned as he was finally coming up to the scene of the accident. The forest opened up towards the river on his right side, but there was no car in sight. The road was empty. 

Then he saw it, tire marks that ran off the lane. There was a bit of a bend in the road where the river was closest to the street barrier, but that barrier was gone now.

Panic rushing in Tony's ears, he pulled his car off the road into the snow on the other side of the street near the trees. His hands were shaking as he swung open the door. 

"HELP! P-PLEASE..."

"Pete!" 

The kid's voice was croaky and weak. Even without seeing him, it was abundantly clear that Peter was crying, bordering on hysterical. Still, it was better than the silence Tony had dreaded.

"Tony! Oh... oh god... please... Tony, please... I... I can't, I... oh god..."

Tears shot into his eyes at the desperation that swung in his kid's voice. Tony sprinted towards the sound. He had almost crossed the street when his feet were practically ripped from underneath him. As if in slow motion his arms were spinning like propellers trying to fight gravity. His only luck was that he had been rushing just enough to land on the ground next to the road instead of breaking his tailbone on the asphalt. 

Black ice.

Tony didn't hold back. He cursed as loud and as strongly as the little breath he had left would allow him while he struggled back to his feet. 

It was freezing out and idiot that he was, he hadn't even brought a jacket. Not that he felt the cold but with every curse he blew out, a cloud of white breath formed in front of his face. That was until his breath was gone entirely, robbed by the scene in front of him.

The car was in the water alright, halfway submerged under the cold waves right next to the shore. The only reason it hadn't been pushed out and even further under was Peter who stood on the far side of the car, water up to his chest, fighting against nature itself.

"Help," Peter cried, just as exhausted as desperate. "I can't... can't... much longer... Tony... please... please help them..."

Despite himself, Tony had frozen. He shouldn't freeze like that. He would never have frozen like that before. He was Iron Man after all. Had fought intergalactic battles and... and... now, at the disaster unfolding in front of him, he didn't even know where to begin.

"They're... in the back... Tony... please... plea—Urgh!" 

The car moved another inch further into the river and the shock of it, the pitiful whine from Peter finally pushed Tony into action. 

"I'm here, buddy! It'll... help's on the way, okay! Just... just hold on a little longer, Pete."

Tony's ripped the door to the backseat open easily enough, his eyes straight on the two unmoving figures slumped in their seats, belts still buckled tightly.

"I... I don't know what happened, I... oh god," Peter sobbed. "We... we were fine, we were—"

"It'll be alright, Pete! Just... just concentrate, okay? I'll... I'll be quick. I'll get them out!" 

Happy legs were submerged entirely. There was a cut on his face, blood running down the side of it. He was pale, too pale.

"Hey, Hap... Happy, come on!" Tony shook him, then pulled Happy's face towards him. "Come on, now! Don't leave me hanging! Fucking... May? May, wake up, come on!" 

Neither of them gave even a twitch as Tony reached across Happy into the icy water. The seat belt came off at once. There was no time to lose. Between the water and the limp body, Tony tried his best to heave Happy out of the car. His arms were straining under Happy's weight. The angle was awkward and difficult to pull at but every whimper from the kid holding this ship afloat spurred Tony on to be faster, to be better. So he did, just because he had to, adrenaline and panic giving him a boost.

He managed to maneuver Happy onto the ground next to the road. By instinct, Tony pressed his shaky fingers against Happy's neck, searching for a pulse but he felt nothing. His throat was so tight, he desperately gasped for air, eyes burning with fear. It was just his fingers. Had to be. His fingers were cold and numb and there was no point in even trying. Peter's voice tore him away from his friend, back into action. Peter was still begging for help, May still trapped in the car.

The water seemed to have risen further in the car. His legs were spasming from the cold, arms and hands numb and heavy as he waded through it, trying to get to May. Her head was bowed low, the water almost at her mouth. It wasn't until Tony had gotten this close to her that he saw the dent in her side of the car.

They hadn't just skidded clean off the road then but hit something along the way. 

Tony held her by the shoulder, trying to keep her upright and out of the seat belt so he could unbuckle it. The hand on her shoulder came away stained dark. In the low light, he could only guess it was blood.

Through the window, Pete's face looked back at him, trembling lips stained dark likely turning blue from the cold. "Tony!"

"I'm right here, bud," Tony breathed, possibly too quiet.

"Are... are they alive?" Peter's words were mumbled, difficult to make out. They were running out of time.

"They'll both be fine, buddy, okay? Just... just hold on a little longer!" Tony slung his arms around May and crossed them over her chest. With short strong pulls, he moved her further and further towards the open door, towards the safety of the shore. "May, you have to wake up," he whispered, his own voice heavy with fear. "This... shit... you can't do this to him. Not like this. Not—"

He yelped as the car slid further into the water.

"I... I got it, I..." Peter winced and there was another jolt. "Tony... get her out! Get out! Get out!"

His own panic gave Tony wings. Another two pulls later and he had finally freed May from the car. 

"I got her," Tony yelled in Peter's general direction. "Get out of the water, buddy. Careful now!"

By the time he had laid May down right next to Happy, Peter was rushing to his side.

"Are they okay? Tony, please... are they... oh, oh god, no, please, I—"

Tony turned fast. Both hands cradling Peter's face, he made him look right at him. "Everything will be fine, okay? Go to my car and get the first aid kit out of the trunk."

"But—"

"Listen to me!" Peter's eyes had already moved down to the lifeless forms of May and Happy again, but Tony gave his head one good shake, fighting to get his attention back. "Go to the car. Watch out for the ice. I need your help now, Pete!"

Eyes wide, Pete nodded. His tears were mixing with blood streaming down from the cuts on his face, leaving smudged dark lines all across it. He moved fast enough. That was a good sign. His clothes were soaked through, sticking to him as he rushed towards the car. Before Tony could warn him again, Peter slipped just like Tony had, just like the car had. He fell hard on his left side.

"Shit, you okay?" Tony's stomach turned at the sight of the kid, as he lay there for a moment, not getting back up. "Peter, are you—"

"M fine." A lot more carefully than before, he struggled back to his feet.

"Get the blankets, too!" 

Tony knelt down between May and Happy, once again he pressed the index and middle finger of both his hands against either of their throats. The way his own heart was rushing, it would be a miracle if—

He gasped. There was a flutter, a sign of life on Happy. Tony had clearly felt it. There was hope then. This... they could make it out of this! 

His eyes shifted to May but even by the time Peter had made it back, blankets and first aid kit in hand, Tony had no idea if May was even still with them.

Just in case, Tony started with compressions, desperate to be subtle about it but there was no way for Peter to miss what was happening.

"What... Tony? Tony, what are... are you doing? Wha—" The sob that had Pete stop mid-word hit Tony squarely where it hurt most.

"My fingers are really numb, kid, okay? I just... I'm not sure. It's... just as a precaution."

"She... she doesn't... oh god, she has no pulse, she has no—"

"Pete, listen to me." Tony's body was aching from the cold, from the adrenaline rush. From the loss that he might not be able to protect the kid from. "The paramedics will get here and then they'll warm them up, okay? Put that blanket around Happy and then get in my car. Get out of those wet clothes and turn on the heater."

"No," he mumbled. "No, no, I... please... this can't be... I can't—"

"Peter!" Tony was losing focus and with that the count on the compressions. "Blanket! Happy! Come on now! I need you, buddy."

The kid's wet sobs rang in Tony's ears, as Pete took one of the blankets and wrapped it around Happy. Before Tony could say anything else, he took the second blanket and wrapped that one around the lower half of May's body.

It felt like endless hours but couldn't have taken more than a couple more minutes until sirens and lights finally flashed up in the distance. Tony had to practically force Peter to stay back while they put first Happy then May onto stretchers and into the emergency vehicle. Just as quickly, Tony made Peter get into the car to follow the ambulance to the hospital.

Peter refused to take off the wet shirt but at least discarded his pants and wrapped himself in the blanket. The blanket that had been covering May just moments before. He used the corner of it to hide his face, leaning heavily against the door. Away from Tony.

"How are you feeling, bud?" It was a fucked up question, but he had to know what he was dealing with. Tony's eyes flickered back and forth between the street and Peter. "Are you hurt? Anything other than the cuts on your face?"

Peter's hand pushed the fabric of the blanket away at that, shaky fingers fumbling across his skin, looking for cuts.

"Stop that!" Tony reached out to him but jerked away at the icy coldness of Peter's hands. "Geezes, kid! Rub those together, okay? Warm them up! Put them on the seat!"

"I'm fine," he hissed, face turned back towards the window.

There was little Tony could do. He couldn't stop, couldn't take his eyes off the road either. All he had left was mumbling reassurances how everything would be okay. Lies, nothing more. Tony had no idea if any of this would ever be okay again.

They arrived at the hospital just after the ambulance. Peter didn't even wait for him to come to a full stop.

"Kid, just-- Fuck..." Tony rushed after him into the hospital.

The neon lights were blindingly bright, almost like spotlights on a stage. He felt uncomfortably exposed, his wet clothes still clinging to him. Peter had already made it to the reception, the blanket still wrapped around his waist. He... shit. He wasn't even wearing shoes. Tony wasn't sure if he had lost them in the water or had simply taken them off in the car along with his soaked pants. 

Either way, his wide-eyed panic and torn-up look had already attracted hospital security. Peter's fist banging against the reception desk as he demanded to see his aunt, didn't help either.

"Hey... hey!" Tony had stormed after him just in time to push a tall guy in hospital uniform off his kid. "Take your hands off him and get a damn doctor!"

"Sir, this is a hospital, not a carnival," the security guard growled. "There are procedure and—"

"We came in alongside the ambulance, you clown!" Tony was pointing a finger squarely at the man's chest. "My son was in a car accident. He was in the river. I need a doctor!"

"No, I need to see my aunt!" Peter was panting. "My aunt was in the ambulance I need to—"

Tony grabbed him by his shoulder and forced the kid to turn towards him. "Pete, they—"

He froze, Peter's face looked so much worse under the light than it had in the dark of the road. His lips were blue, pupils fully blown despite the bright light and his skin was so pale, he looked un-dead. The bad kind. Tears and blood from the cuts on his face were smeared all over his face.

"Jeezes, kid! You..." Tony spun around towards the receptionist. "I need a fucking doctor! He was in the river 15, 20 minutes!"

Peter stepped up right next to Tony, both hands holding onto the desk. "I'm fine! I'm not even shaking! I just need to see my aunt!"

"You're hypothermic, Peter!" Tony's adrenaline spiked as high as it had back on the road when he had spotted Peter standing in the icy waves.

"Gentlemen, let's calm down." Finally, a doctor had walked up behind them. "What is the—" The man stopped midsentence as he took in Peter's face. "Come with me."

"No," Peter growled again. "I need to check on my aunt!"

The doctor wasn't much taller than Peter but he squared his shoulders and stepped up close into his space. He eyed him for a moment, his face hard. "What do you think your aunt will say if she wakes up and I will have to tell her that you died from hypothermic cardiac arrest, hm?"

Peter's mouth clapped shut at once. Fresh tears fell off his lashes.

"Doctor Gordon," the receptionist interrupted. "The patient's personal data needs—"

"Just give the man a damn form," the doctor barked at him as he grabbed a hold of Peter's upper arm and dragged him along.

With ease, Tony snatched the forms from the receptionist's hands and quickly followed the doctor to the closest treatment room. Inside, Doctor Gordon asked his name as he checked his pupils and lungs. Then he had Peter strip off the last of his wet clothes and wrapped him in a hospital gown. In quick progression people carried equipment into the room, starting with heated blankets that two nurses wrapped around him before they helped Peter to lie down on a padded stretcher.

One of the nurses fitted a breathing mask over Peter's mouth as Gordon leaned over him and carefully untangling one of Peter's arms from the blanket. "We'll use humidified oxygen to rewarm your airway. Additionally, we— ah, yes, thank you, Leslie." The nurse had carried in a bag of fluids that she fitted to the stand next to Peter. "It's a warmed saltwater solution to help warm your blood back up. Now, you'll start shivering soon, but that completely normal as your body warms back up. Your dad can stay with you, okay?"

"Okay," Peter mumbled through the masks, his eyes finding Tony's.

Two quick steps and Tony was right next to him, grabbing his hand just after the nurse had fitted the IV.

"And Leslie," the doctor called out to her. "Can you organize dry clothes and a heated blanket for Mr. Stark here as well, please."

Tony sucked in a breath before he turned towards Gordon. "Thank you."

"Why don't you take care of those forms, then we can get you an update on Peter's aunt?"

The forms balanced on the foot of Peter's bed, Tony quickly filled out all three of them - May, Happy and Peter - while nurse Leslie cleaned and taped up the cuts on Peter's face. The doctor hadn't been gone more than a couple of minutes. The nurse was still busy with Peter's face when the kid called out to him.

"Just... please... can you make sure they are fine? I just..." Peter swallowed hard, his eyes still wet. "I need to know that they... that they—"

"Alright, buddy." Tony squeezed his hand then as the nurse turned away to grab a pair of scissors, he stepped close and pressed his lips against the kid's cold forehead. "You stay right here, okay?"

With a quick glance to either side of the waiting room, Tony strode back towards the registration desk. There weren't many patients in, even fewer people waiting in the seated area for friends and relatives. Less stress for the staff meant fewer mistakes and Tony would not be able to live with any more mistakes tonight.

He slid the filled-out forms across the table towards the receptionist. "I need an update on May Parker and Harold Hogan."

The receptionist's eyebrows were pulled up high. "And your relation to Mrs. Parker and Mr. Hogan is?"

"She's my son's legal guardian," Tony bit out. "He's my brother."

He pursed his lips, shuffling through the documents. "The doctor will find you when—"

"No!" Tony's fist crashed against the wood of the desk. "I need an update right now!"

"Sir, you will get an update when we have an update to give, or do you want me to drag one of the doctors away from the treatment and—"

"Fine!" Tony pulled both of his hands up and took a step away from the desk lest he'd strangle that arrogant little prick.

Instead, he stalked away from the man and fished his phone out of his pocket. There were two text messages from Pepper. One from almost an hour ago.

'FRIDAY filled me in. Call me as soon as you know more.'

Then another one from 12 minutes ago.

'Tony, please call me. I'm worried.'

Without a second thought, he did. The phone rang for all but two seconds before Pepper answered him.

"Tony? What's going on?"

He pressed his eyes shut. Just the sound of her voice had him tear up. "Hey, Pep..."

"FRIDAY puts your car at Ellenville Regional. Is everyone okay?"

"I... erm..." One hand steadied himself against the wall. "Pete's hypothermic."

"Oh no," she gasped.

Tony's eyes stung. "The car skidded into the river." He ignored her next gasp and pushed on, his voice low. "He held the car up and May and Happy I... I pulled them out when I got there. I'm... I don't know... Happy had a pulse at the scene but May, she..." He stopped himself, unable to keep going.

Just the thought of what it would mean if the worst were to happen... if it were to happen like this. Peter would never forgive himself.

"Oh my god, honey... I... I'll pack some things and I'll meet you there. Morgan, I'll... I'll just have to bring her and—"

"No!" His voice came out sharper than he intended. "You stay where you are!"

"Honey, I can't leave you all on your—"

"There's black ice out there on the very road that leads here. I don't want you on the street tonight."

"I... okay..." She was crying now. "Just... just call me, okay? Call me as soon as you know more."

"I will, Pep. I will. Just..." Tony blew out a breath and shot a glance over his shoulder at the commotion coming from the reception desk. "I gotta go. I love you, honey. Give Morgan a kiss."

He didn't hear his response, his heart pounding like a steam engine in his ears. The doctor that had just turned away from the registration desk locked eye with him, her expression sober as she walked over to him.

"Mr. Stark?"

Tony's limbs were numb. Somehow he knew. The way the lady was looking at him. How she held herself. He knew what she was going to say but his brain wouldn't let him accept just standing there and taking it. It seemed to float away, anywhere but here to just not hear it.

"I think maybe we should go and see your son as well. He is in treatment room 3, yes? We can just have... I have some information that—"

"No!" His voice was composed, so much more than he felt capable of. "No, you... you should tell me. Tell me here."

"Mr. Stark..." Her eyebrows were raised in sympathy. She even reached out to him, a soft hand placed on his lower arm. "I think it might be easier if we're all in a room together, so I can—"

"No." This one sounded less sure though he felt a lot more certain than before. Yeah, it would be easier. She was right. It would be easier for him, but telling Peter. No, that was his job. Not his job, his responsibility. "Just tell me."

It was an out-of-body experience to hear her say it. To hear her say how sorry she was. How despite their best efforts... May was gone. Was dead. That was what she said. Dead. Not 'gone'. Not 'had passed on'. She was dead.

They said that was important. That the words you used had to be the right ones. That there couldn't be any confusion.

"Mr. Hogan is currently receiving hemodialysis to rewarm his blood. His vitals so far are holding steady. We are hopeful that he will make it through the night and then we will have to go from there."

Hopeful that he might make it through the night. Hopeful. May Parker was dead.

"Mr. Stark?"

His eyes shot over at the doctor, blinking. He hadn't realized he had looked away. "Right, I... I guess I will... will go. Talk... talk to my kid." He swallowed hard.

"If you would like me to, I could—"

"No, I... I need to do this. For him. It's..."

He shook his head and without another word, Tony made his legs move, surprised that they did. His mind was still not with him, still flowing around him, unwilling to come back to him. One hand on the door, the other on the doorknob, Tony paused. Memories flashed in front of his eyes. Doctors in white coats who stood in front of him, informing him of his parents' passing.

It wouldn't happen to Peter like that. He wouldn't allow it. No strangers, no detached condolences by faceless shadows.

Tony took another breath like it would make him ready to do this, when nothing would ever make him ready for this. Waiting... waiting just made it worse so he pushed the door open, relieved to find Peter alone, still on the bed hooked up to the IV and the humidified oxygen.

Doubts crashed down on him. Maybe he should wait. Wait until Peter was more stable, had recovered.

"Tony?" The kid's voice was muffled by the mask, questioning more than panicked until it wasn't. Wasn't not panicked. "Tony, what... what is..."

He closed the door behind him, still holding onto it like the words would magically come to him. Tony knew what to say, the main thing to say was clear, way too clear and sharp and brutal, but how to begin?

In the end, he didn't need a preamble. In the end, that face he so prided himself on having control of, said it all for him.

"N-no..." Peter's eyes widened. With every breath the kid took, they came faster and faster until he was panting, sitting up in his bed. "No... oh... oh god, no... no!" The IV on Peter's arm dislodged before Tony had even had a chance to get to him. Peter ripped off the mask just as fast.

"Buddy, I... I'm so sorry, she—"

"No, don't!" Peter grabbed both of his arms just as Tony tried to pull him close. "Don't say it! Don't... don't say it!"

But Tony had to. He had to because if he didn't, Peter would never accept it, never. "I'm so sorry, kid. She died, she–"

Peter struggled against him, pushing him but not hard enough to move him. "Oh god, no... please... I... no, you're wrong! You're wrong!"

"Pete, I'm so sorry—"

"You... you need to call Doctor Cho! You need... you need to call her and then at.. at the Compound, they can save her, please!" The panic in Peter's eyes was threatening to strangle him, both of them, his hands erratically tearing on Tony's green scrubs. "We should have gone there right away! The cradle, they... please, please, you need to save her, Tony, please."

"Oh, buddy..." His heart hurt with every beat from the bare pain that was radiating off Peter. "Cho can't do that. She... she can't bring people back."

"We need to try, please! Please just... just try, just ask her to try!"

In a twisted way, Tony almost welcomed the way Peter's hands kept hitting him, almost relished in the sting of it. "The doctors tried reanimating her, buddy, but they couldn't. She..." It wasn't enough. He was chickening out. He had to say it properly, had to be strong for his kid who was crumbling right under his fingers. "May died. There's... there's nothing we can do, bud. May is dead."

The pained howl Peter pushed out chilled him to the bones, so much worse than the icy water of the river had. With it, Peter's arms went slack and he slumped forward into Tony's waiting arms. All he could do was hold him, be there. It wasn't much, it wouldn't make this any better but there was nothing else for Tony to do. He couldn't conquer death. He couldn't take this pain away.

Tony rocked him, back and forth, forgoing all the empty phrases of how it was alright. How they would get through this. Phrases that meant nothing, never had. No, instead, he told Peter how much he loved him. He told him over and over again, mumbled it into his hair, told him with the slow circled he rubbed into his back, with the way he held him up, tightly pressed against his own chest.

The desperate sobs that shook his kid broke Tony piece by piece. None of this was alright.

 -----

To be continued...

-----

Special thanks to @spagbol99 !

[ojcobsessed]

Oliver Jackson-Cohen, on Bly Manor and Other Things That Haunt Him

by Diana Colcer for Cosmopolitan Romania, 24 October 2020

Energetic, suave, and anchored in the reality of the problems around us, Oliver Jackson-Cohen is part of a generation of actors looking for something else, something that will remain imprinted in the collective memory. I talked about this with the actor you know from The Haunting - by the way, the latest season, The Haunting of Bly Manor, now on Netflix, is the ideal choice for a scary night, if you want to spend Halloween at home this year. Let's see what Oliver Jackson-Cohen has to say about Bly Manor and other things that haunt him.

"Why choose a role that's safe when you can take risks?" This is the question that came to my mind as I was documenting the interview with Oliver Jackson-Cohen. Because that's what I was gathering from the things we know about him. You first saw Oliver as Luke in The Haunting of Hill House - and now, just in time for Halloween, you can see him again alongside Victoria Pedretti in the even scarier second season, The Haunting of Bly Manor. In this adaptation of the short ghost story The Turn of the Screw by Henry James, Oliver Jackson-Cohen plays the charming and manipulative Peter Quint, a character who hides many scary secrets and… I won't give away more!

So you understand what I'm talking about: Oliver is used to playing characters haunted both by their own inner conflicts (PTSD due to childhood traumas, drug addiction, etc.) and, well, ghosts. And the answer to the question at the beginning of the text, which I did not ask out loud, was given to me while I was talking to him. Born in London, Oliver, the son of fashion designer Betty Jackson, has dedicated his entire career to a different philosophy of acting, starting from the premise that fear makes you grow, develop and get out of your comfort zone.

And that's exactly how most of his roles are. After the BBC drama Larkrise to Candleford, he starred in the Emmy Award-nominated mini-series World Without End, then in shows such as Dracula and Man in an Orange Shirt. In real life, when he "strips off" his characters, Oliver is a guy oozing charisma and sex appeal: he’s 1.91m tall and has a pair of blue eyes in which you can get really lost, an extremely attractive and a style of being (and, let’s face it, dressing) extremely cool. 

So, he’s one to watch, and, as such, we invite you to read the interview he gave us exclusively for Cosmopolitan Romania, after which we found out spectacular details about the unseen parts of horror, fashion, lifestyle and what Oliver Jackson-Cohen has something to say about Bly Manor and other things that haunt him.

What made you determined, at only 6 years old, to become an actor? Simple! I saw Home Alone at the movies and suddenly I wanted to be Kevin McAllister. I just couldn't believe a child was appearing in a movie. I remember my father explaining to me that he was an actor and then I said to myself, "Well, I'll do all that, too."

Many people who discover their dream at such a young age change their minds later. How did you stay in acting?

Looking back, it was probably a stupid thought [process]. But I became fascinated by how you can disappear into another world and how you can become whoever you want. I still think that these things are what kept up my passion for acting. I love the whole process behind this job and the way you translate into reality something that is not, in fact, real. It's also been about luck, I admit - that people pay me to do that, and that's how I make a living.

You appeared in the first season of The Haunting of Hill House as Luke Crain. I was impressed with how you managed to get Luke away from the typical drug addict stereotype. How did you avoid this cliché? I have seen many portrayals of drug addicts over the years and I wanted to show what the person behind the addiction is like, the one who is not defined by this addiction. I think that's an extremely important thing. All over the world, people are struggling with drug addiction and, most of the time, they are excluded and marginalised because of this, but also because they are seen only in this way, as addicts. I didn't intend to do this with Luke. I felt that it was essential for the public to see the man in him, to see that he is someone who is really shaken inside, someone who has lost control of what is happening to him, but who is always trying to control his addiction. 

As a society, we usually condemn or shun such people. We need more empathy in these cases, and these people need to receive the attention shown primarily to them, not to the addiction they suffer from.

When your work is so rigorous, so emotional, I imagine it consumes you a lot to play a character who has struggled with addictions all his life. How do you detach yourself from this intensity? I can't tell you exactly. I don't think you can, to be honest. For the series The Haunting… the filming was long and stressful for all the actors, but also for the crew. I think you have to gradually detach yourself from the story, as much as you can, when you get home, but at the same time, you have to stay in the character's shoes, because the next day you return to the set for a new round of filming. It was a demanding experience, but it was worth it.

Is there anything you wish you’d known before you started working a horror TV show? Or about a series with an intense family drama? Know that it's not that scary when you're filming. Not at all. I started working from the pre-production phase and I knew it was going to be a ghost series… and, initially, I had the impression that there was always “someone” in my Atlanta apartment. But from the moment you get on set, you realise that the series about ghosts is just another job. The coolest thing when you are part of a horror series is when you realise, in the end, that you can watch it [later] without any problems, because all the tension and panic are built up in the editing process.

I know you're a big fan of the horror genre in general. Is it an area you want to explore further? I think so. But I wouldn't say that I intended, from the beginning, specifically, to explore any certain genre. Everything is, in fact, in the characters. Always. If it's an interesting role, I definitely want it. But what I find incredible about this genre is that the dose of horror is often a metaphor for other elements of our lives. But when horror is done properly, it can affect us incredibly, which is true.

You're back to haunt us again in the second season of the Netflix anthology series, this time called The Haunting of Bly Manor. What can you tell me about the new character you play? I'm afraid I don't want to reveal too much and I'd rather you watch the show and form your own impression. All I can say is that the new series, Bly Manor, is completely different from the first, which I like. My current character, a young man named Peter, is the polar opposite of Luke, so for me, as an actor, he was wonderful. Ah, also don’t even try to watch this season at night, alone at home, because the plot is really creepy!

About The Invisible Man, another classic monster comeback, in which you play alongside Elisabeth Moss (The Handmaid's Tale), what can you tell me? The film debates the notion of ownership of a person (editor’s note: Jackson-Cohen's character is a sociopath obsessed with control, and we don't know if he terrorises his ex-girlfriend as a ghost or if he actually staged his death). I look forward to seeing how this film will be received by the public, because Leigh Whannell is an incredible screenwriter and director. He wrote a fresh story, which I find brilliant, which follows the Invisible Man in the context of connections with other characters, but also with real people. It's a very clever movie.

How would you best describe yourself using the title of a movie?

Hm… The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, the classic directed by Sergio Leone in 1966.

Are you into fashion? Yes, I really am. I was raised by my parents who worked in the fashion industry, which influenced me quite a lot over the years.

Do you wear high-fashion pieces in everyday life? Why not?!

Your mother is the designer Betty Jackson. Has he ever given you advice on clothing style?

I don't know if she gave me style advice in the true sense of the word, but it's great to talk to her about style and clothes. Her belief has always been one like "Wear something that makes you feel good,” so I adopted this perspective as well. She is an incredible woman, with a good eye for fashion, so she often helps me.

You divide your life between London and Los Angeles. How do men groom themselves in the two cities? Have you noticed different approaches?

Probably. LA is a more eccentric place in terms of style and fashion, with more pressure to that end, at least from what I've noticed. In Los Angeles, it's more important to look good physically. In London, on the other hand, it seems more important to combine clothes and accessories in a cool and smart way.

How do you stay in shape?

I honestly don’t care. I only exercise when I have to, and when I don't have to, I eat everything I can. I go to the gym if I notice that my weight is getting out of control.

What do you like to do in your free time?

To be the laziest person. Seriously. I would love to count all the hours I’ve spent sleeping or lazing around!

[kittylaboo]

HC: Peter Parker didn’t know he was Bi until Harley Keener

So this took a turn I wasn’t expecting, also it’s a lot longer than I was expecting I’m sorry also Idk how to do the cut thing so my bad  

 TW: Mentions of Rape

Okay so Peter Parker is *Straight*

He likes girls, really likes girls

He literally went on a date with Liz (it may have ended with her moving away bc he put her dad in jail but that’s besides the point)

And he may have had a brief crush on MJ 

So Peter Parker is *Straight*

Boys are gross, and trust Peter he knows

He doesn’t ever want to think of men in a sexual matter

He 10/10 supports anyone who comes out to him 

But anytime he thinks about how boys could possibly be into him, his brain immediately goes to Skip Wescott 

And how Peter was 9 when it started and that he never wants to be in a position like that again

It was horrible and scary, and Peter Parker likes women and only women, and he will never be anyone’s Skip. And he will never put himself in a position where there can be another Skip.

So Peter Parker thinks men suck. 

(Obviously beside Ned and Mr Stark, they’re cool, but Peter has known Ned forever and Mr Stark is literally a super hero, and Peter only became such a huge fan of Iron Man and Tony Stark because of what happened)

His therapist tells him it was his way of coping with what happened 

Then one day Happy picks Peter up at school on an non-lab day because Mr. Stark has someone that he wants Peter to meet

Peter really hopes its the Black Widow (because they’re both spider themed heroes !! how cool !!!)

Peter meets Mr Stark and this mystery person in the living room

Mr Stark introduces Peter Parker to Harley Keener

Harley Keener looks hot good, hes tall and wears a leather jacket and cowboy boots with skinny jeans. He looks so out of place, but he doesn’t look bothered by it either

Peters heart skips a beat, but Peter chalks it up to be anxiety 

“Hey there Peter, I’m Harley”

Oh my god he has an accent, an actual southern accent

And doesn’t that just make Peters heart race 

“Tony here tells me you’re a real Einstein” He laughed

Harley laughed. Peter is not laughing

Peter hears his blood rushing, and feels himself go cold. His spidey-sense is just going off

Peter looks to Mr Stark whose smile falters at the look of pure-fear on Peters face

Mr Stark doesn’t know. Peter never told him. Any files about what happened never include Peters name, or any family members name, so Mr Stark wouldn’t have stumbled on it, unless he went into Peter’s Therapists notes, which he hasn’t because he may be nosy but he isn’t invasive 

Peter knows what this is, he knows he’s going into a panic attack. He was triggered and he needs to get out. Out out out before anything can happen

“So-sorry, I’ve gotta, I gotta go, something came up wi-with May. It was um, it was nice meeting you Harley.”

Peter left, and made it back home, though he doesn’t remember how he made it from Manhattan to Queens and into his apartment.

He’s home and it’s not the safest place, can’t go into his bedroom but it’s better than there

Tony beat him to the apartment (without Harley), already sitting with May when Peter walks in

May is quick to give Peter his favourite over-sized sweater (it makes him feel safe) sitting him down in the living room, putting a knit blanket over him, and giving a bottle of water. 

“Pete, you okay kid?” Mr Stark asks 

And Peter is fine, he always has been, so he nods 

“Do you want to talk about why you were triggered into a panic attack” His voice is soft as he speaks to Peter, like Peter would break

May sits next to Peter, pulling him into her 

“Adrian Toomes was not the first person Spider-Man sent to jail” Peter started the story like this because it was easier to tell it, his therapist may not be happy with it but she’ll be happy he’s making progress by telling some

“Spider-Man was 11 when he sent his first person to jail. It was a year long trial, one kid versus one 18 year old. He used to call Spider-Man, Einstein”

Peter seemed to be done with his explanation after this, deeming it enough information for Tony to understand what happened

It wasn’t 

But May sending a text that said “Search Skip Wescott” gave Tony the opportunity to find out what happened later 

(Tony is really pissed when he reads what happens, and makes sure Skip get transferred to worst prison and that he can never leave)

“Okay, Pete, I’ll talk to Harley about not calling you that. But Harley will be going to the same school as you, okay? That’s why I wanted you two to meet.”

After that first night Peter goes back to being his usual chipper self

And Harley starts at Midtown 

Peter was just rounding the corner outside of the school to see Harley getting dropped off by Happy

After a moment of hesitation Peter went up to Harley and offered to help him on his first day (because Peter will not let his overwhelming fear take over and he will be friendly for the sake of Mr Stark and that is all)

Despite Peter’s uneasiness and distrust Peter and Harley get on like a house on fire

Peter started to feel really close to Harley, and Harley would often throw his arm around Peter’s shoulder and call him things like sugar, or sweet thing or darling

And Peter liked that a lot, except he didn’t because it was weird (but he really did)

And Peter would always go tomato red whenever Harley was around

Even Ned and MJ recognized the crush Peter had on Harley and vice versa

“Dude when are you going to make a move on him?”

“What the fuck, Ned? I’m straight, Harley and I are friends”

“Peter are you being serious right now? You both obviously have a crush on each other. Harley knows you like him too.”

“The fuck MJ, I expected you to be more understanding about this. We are friends. Maybe I come off as gay to you because I choose to respect people and am not the exact definition of a ‘toxic male,’ but I don’t fucking like you guy assuming that I like men. Men ain’t shit and I’m not going to find myself in another situation like I used too. I like women”

“What’s your issue Peter? You homophobic now? Didn’t peg you as that.”

“Fuck MJ, this isn’t your business. I’m an ally, people love who they love, but I don’t like men, and you need to stop pushing that on me. I have my reasons, you have yours.”

“Peter, the way you’re going off on MJ isn’t really helping your point much-”

“Would the two of you just shut up about this. I don’t like other guys. Women are it for me. I will not be stuck under another man. Fuck, I’m straight and you need to stop pushing the idea that I’m into Harley just because you want me to live out your little fantasies of what my life should be like.”

Peter didn’t talk to them the rest of the day. Not because he was angry but because he was embarrassed that he said too much 

At the tower Peter and Harley were cuddled together sitting next to each other watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine and talking

Peter really loved Harley’s Blue eyes

And his accent

And his face

And Harley in general

But totally only in a friends way

They’re bros

“I want to try something real quick, you can tell me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I am” 

And then Harley kisses Peter

Harley Kisses him

And Peter freaks out

Without even thinking about it, Peter pushes Harley off of him and bolts, leaving the tower without his phone, shoes or bag, Peter just leaves

Once Peter gets outside he throws up, before his anxiety takes over again and he just runs and runs and runs

Harley is left now sitting on the ground, tears in his eyes, confused and hurt about what just happened

Tony makes it to Harley in record time thanks to Friday, and without a question Harley explains what happened

“I thought he liked me too, Tony, I really did. I don’t know how I messed up this bad.”

“I’m sorry Harls, Peter has been hurt a lot and I just don’t think he was ready yet emotionally for a relationship.”

Tony knows that Peter has probably just been triggered. He’s only heard Peter talk about girls romantically, never boys, but he was sure that Peter and Harley were going to be together at some point

Once Harley finally calms down enough and goes to his room Tony calls May

“May, is Peter with you, he left all his stuff here.”

“No, I thought he was staying with you tonight. what happened?”

“Harley kissed Pete, and he freaked out and ran out without any of his stuff, I was hoping he was with you. His phone is here too.”

“I think I know where he is, College Point Park. Ben and I used to take him there after any court date.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“What about Harley?”

“He’s already asleep, I’ll meet you there.”

Tony and May get there in record time, finding Peter sitting on the rocks facing the East River.

“Peter?” May called out.

Peter turned around, his face clearly red, tears streaming down his face.

“I don’t understand” Peter finally said as May and Tony got close enough

“What don’t you understand?” Tony asked

“Harley kissed me. He kissed me. I expected to hate it. But I didn’t. I liked it when he kissed me. I should hate it though. He’s a boy. I shouldn’t have liked it.”

“Peter it’s okay if you liked Harley Kissing you, and it’s okay if you like him romantically too” May tried to comfort

“But it’s not May, because if I like Harley, and I like him kissing me then that means that I liked it when Skip kissed me. And I didn’t like anything he did to me.”

“Peter, I like when Pepper and I kiss, but that doesn’t mean that if May were to kiss me that I’d like it. Same thing goes for you kiddo.”

“I like girls though. I can’t like Harley.”

“You can like both boys and girls. You could be Bisexual or maybe not. No matter what it’s okay.” May said again.

“I need time. I can’t- I need Dr Rosenburg and I need to not be Spider-Man and I need to not see Harley or Ned or MJ. I need time.”

“Okay baby, you can have as much time as you need.” 

Peter ends up taking a week off of school, with daily appointments with his therapist. He went completely ghost mode. Wasn’t active as Spider-Man, wasn’t active on social media. Didn’t read or respond to anyone’s messages. Only talking to May or Tony and only if they were at the apartment.

After his week off, Peter finally reappeared at school, still having not responded to anyone’s messages, preferring to just deal with things in person.

“Peter oh my god you’re alive we all thought you died.” Ned shouted from down the hall going to greet his friend, MJ and Harley in tow.

“I’m fine guys, I just had some stuff from the past come back up that needed to be dealt with before I did anything that would hurt other people.”

“What are you talking about Parker, you wouldn’t hurt a fly let alone anyone else.” MJ said confused

“I’ll tell you when I’m ready too but I’m not there yet. My therapist thinks I made good progress this week though.”

“Your therapist?” Ned asked.

“Uh yeah, sorry. MJ, Ned, I really messed up with how I treated you guys the other day, regarding my sexuality, turns out I may of been wrong and you guys were right, I just repressed any of those emotions due to trauma. So, I’m sorry you didn’t deserve that.”

Ned and MJ obviously forgive Peter bc duh they’re friends

“I would like to talk to Harley privately though, so you guys wouldn’t mind?”

So Peter pulls Harley to the side finally getting the chance to talk to him, and wanted to say his words before he lost his nerves.

“Peter I’m sorry-”

“I liked when you kissed me. That’s why I freaked out. I didn’t think it was possible for me to like that, or men. I’m sorry for pushing you away. I wasn’t prepared and my brain automatically went to a dark place. I like you Harley Keener, but I have problems and I want you to be aware of that before we do anything.”

“Okay.”

“If we are going to try this I need you to be aware of my limits. I have a lot of them apparently, and I’m not sure if more will come up or not, but my therapist said that I should talk to you about this stuff before we do anything. If you still like me, that is.”

“Peter Parker you are too precious, of course I still like you, I don’t plan on not liking you for a while yet.”

And then Peter smiles and he feels relieved, because getting to this point took a lot of work and now he’s here and he likes a boy who likes him back who won’t hurt him

[twokinkybeans]

Inch By Inch (Sequel to Seven Inches - Tailor!AU)

A sequel to Seven Inches, written for both our TwoKinkyBeans July Exchange plus the line prompt that Lien sent me:

“Oh” Tony coos as Peter gives him another quick gasp. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?”

I hope you guys enjoy!!! 

Warnings: nff, smut, handcuffs, light dom/sub, pet names, a size kink I didn’t quite intend to write but IT HAPPENED.

-

Peter stares at the supple material that’s spread out all over the desk. He swallows and reaches out for it. His fingers trace past the tightly woven twill texture. May, from the other side of the shop, cocks an eyebrow at him. “You’re alright up there?” Peter’s cheeks flare up right away. He tries to come up with a somewhat plausible excuse as to why he takes such a sudden interest in the navy blue material. He can’t think of any. The only thing that keeps replaying in his mind is Tony’s promise. He can nearly feel the man’s hot breath tickling on his ear again. “Make that tweed suit yourself, kid, and it’ll be the one I wear when I take that sweet little ass for the first time.”  The man had slapped is butt and resumed their earlier conversation as though nothing had happened. Fuck, he wants Tony so bad.

“I, eh-” Peter stutters, “-I want to learn how to make a suit myself.” May squints at him, searching his face. “Why do I have a feeling this has something to do with a certain customer?” She presses her lips together, but her eyes betray how she’s trying to hold back a wide grin. Peter smiles sheepishly.  “I wouldn’t know what you’re talking about.” “Mmmh.”

-

Peter’s focus is nowhere to be found. He wants to listen to May as she gently explains different sewing techniques to him, he truly wants to. Yet, it’s only Tony’s voice he hears inside his mind. Gosh. He wonders what it’ll feel like to have Tony inside of him. Sure, he’s been topped by other guys before, but nothing is comparable to the size of Tony’s massive cock. He can already imagine it sticking out of the thick pants proudly. The suit itself would be a hot as fuck look without question. Would Peter be able to feel the structure of the fabric against his thighs? Feel every little fiber?

Peter craves it all. The man’s voice, his hot gaze. Since the ‘Shop Incident’, they haven’t even laid hands on each other again. Okay, well, they had. But nothing truly sexual. Just chaste kisses and whispered promises as it’d been impossible to find space in their shared schedules. Peter has been very occupied with his newly found Spider-Man duties now that Tony had taken the role as a mentor too. His new suit is insanely good, and Peter loves patrolling in it and exploring all the latest tech the man included. Tony has been busy also, and he hasn’t made it into the shop once.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, get your ass back to earth.” “Wha-” Peter breathes out startled and blinks a few times. There, he’s got no focus. 

No. 

Focus. 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but your crush is as big as Stark’s wealth.” His aunt shakes her head almost teasingly. “Aaaargh, May, how do I get rid of it?” “You don’t. Well, you will eventually. But while it’s there, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. You’ll be walking with your head on cloud nine for quite some time.”

Peter is silent for a few seconds, letting her words sink in. “Do you… Do you think I’m too naive?” “How- Why do you think that?” “He’s Tony Stark, May. Am I… Delusional for thinking he might actually want me?” “It’s clear he does, isn’t it?” “I mean…” His voice trails off. May finally puts the fabric back down on the table.  “Yeah?” “More? I mean more. Oh, I don’t know. I don’t even know if I want more, then how can I even think about what he might want from me?” May makes a shushing noise, shaking her head and grabbing Peter’s hands within her own. She smiles sweetly at him in the way only she can. A warm, comforting feeling spreads in his chest, and his panic dies down. 

“Peter,” she whispers and tucks a loose curl back behind his ear. “As much as I understand your nerves… They’re only natural. And there’s no hurry. Now tell me, what’s with the suit? Every time you see it, you get a little weird.” “He… He made a promise about it.” “Oh?” “Mmmh, I’ll spare you the details.” “Oh.” She chuckles. “In that case, why don’t we get back to making it?” “That sounds like a solid plan.”

And that’s what they do.

-

Peter’s heart hammers in his chest when his eyes dart up to the top of the immensely large building that is the Stark Tower. He’s been here before, obviously. But never as Peter. Always as Spider-Man- with the other Avengers around as well. Now, he’s just Peter. A tailor-in-learning. On his way to deliver a handmade suit to his crush/mentor/hero. Tony. Tony Stark. The richest man in the States. 

How the fuck did he get here.

He stares at the intimidating entrance. Men and women in their sophisticated clothes walk in and out of the building. He feels terribly out of place, but he takes a deep breath and pushes through his nerves. The large, busy foyer nearly overloads his sense. However, a few deep breaths help him to shut out the visual and audible stimuli. He strides over to the reception area and smiles politely at the lady behind the computer.  “Hi! I’m Peter, Peter Parker, Miss. I uh, I’m here to see Mr. Stark? About his new suit?” He holds up the package to show it. The woman returns his smile and nods.  “Let me check his schedule, Sir.”

Sir. Peter almost snorts but feels very proud at the same time. 

“Mr. Stark is expecting you in his private quarters. Here,” she says. She hands him a keycard and then points towards the elevator. “The keycard grants you access to both the elevator and his suite. It’ll take you to the right floor automatically. Please hand it in when you leave the building.” Peter nods, his jaw slack as he takes in all the information. He slides the keycard through his fingers, twisting- turning and playing with it nervously. Pressing his lips together, Peter thanks the lady once more and makes his way towards the elevator. 

It isn’t until he actually sets foot into the metal box that he realizes what exactly the woman had told him. He nearly gasps. His heart misses a beat and his cheeks heat up.

Private quarters.

Oh God- Oh God. Tony has set up the meeting in his private quarters. That means something. Doesn’t it? Or is he the type of man that doesn’t care about random people stalking through his living space? Peter has no clue. He hopes he’s an exception to the general rule. That no one else is allowed in the man’s suite. 

He hopes… Well- He hopes Tony and him are going to have sex. Real sex this time. Tony promised. He told Peter they would. He wouldn’t back down now, would he? Peter sighs, tapping his foot in restless motion. Peter eyes the small display indicating the floor they’re at and inhales slightly when he sees they’re nearly there. This is it. This is-

Ding.

Peter clutches the suit a little closer and hesitantly steps out. Everything in the Tower is absolutely gigantic, and apparently, the suite is no exception to that. Peter can’t even imagine having… This much space. The glass windows let the sunlight cast a golden glow over the man’s presumable costly possessions. He takes it all in. The large, plush sofa. The pool table. The fucking  hot tub in the middle of the room with circular descending steps around. A soft, instrumental beat is playing through the hidden speakers. Peter wonders how on earth he will find Tony seeing that this is just his leisure room.  “Mr.-” “Ah, Parker, there you are. I’ve been waiting for you.” 

Peter turns around startled and stares at the man leaning against the side of the bar. A smirk plays on Tony’s lips and he raises his glass. “You want some?” “I, eh-” Peter babbles, still a little dumbfounded. Tony flails his free hand, and Peter decides a quick why the fuck not. If he’s old enough to fuck whoever he wants, he can sure take a small drink, right?

A few minutes later, they’re seated on the large plush sofa. Peter sips his Tequila Sunrise cocktail. Tony insisted that Peter would enjoy it and much to Peter’s liking and dismay, Tony was right. He’s not 100% sure what’s in there, but he sure isn’t complaining. “So,” Tony smirked, “-I see you brought a new suit?” Peter eyes the suit, still neatly packed in its cover.  “I- I did, Mr. Stark. Would you like to try it on?” Tony tilts his head. His eyes burning, prodding and oh God- Peter can feel his own heartbeat speed up. “Show it to me first, boy.”

They stare at each other for a brief moment. They both know what’s happening. They’re slipping back into their roles. Just as they had in the shop. Tony’s voice already dropping a notch, the rough scratch in his words catching on his tongue so sweetly. So… Authoritative.  “Of course, Sir,” Peter gushes and rushes to pull the zipper down. Carefully, he takes out the suit, smiling slightly at the feel of the thick, textured fabric as it slides past his hands. Tweed suits are not very high in demand, but they definitely radiate a certain chic vibe. Maybe because it’s so timeless.  “Here you go.”

Peter stands up, holding the piece by the clothing hanger and blushes when he hears Tony’s appreciative hum. The man stands up too. Slow. Calculating. He strides closer, making Peter’s dick twitch every time the man’s leather soles hit the floor. When Tony stops right in front of him, the older man grins. “Oh, isn’t it just gorgeous,” he coos. “Almost as beautiful as you. Tell me, did you make this?” “I-I did, Sir. My aunt, uhm- May. She obviously helped me get the technique right.” “Goooooood.”

A pause.

“Now, be a good boy and help me change clothes.” “Yes, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispers breathlessly. For a short second, Peter waits for Tony to make the first move. It never comes- oh.  A strangled noise escapes from his throat when he takes a step closer. His fingers moving up to help Tony get out of his cardigan sweater. He’s the one making the movements, and yet it feels almost humiliating to undress Tony. In the very best way, of course. “Am I doin’ it right?” “Mmh- Just keep it up, honeycomb.” Peter nearly cracks up at the pet name, but the lustful look in Tony’s eyes keeps him going. He’s deliberately not being very careful. His fingers brushing past Tony’s naked, warm skin at every possible opportunity where he slides the fabric off the man’s shoulders. The icy, blue light coming from the Arc Reactor shining freely onto Peter’s face. It’s… Such a powerful device. Peter groans. “I can feel the vibrations,” he mumbles as he keeps staring at it. His hands slowly trace down now. He definitely should work a little faster if he wants the man inside him sooner rather than later. It’s not gonna happen automatically.  His hands work on the fly of the pants and he tugs them down impatiently. Then, he drops onto his knees. Carefully untying Tony’s shoelaces and taking them off together with the pants. All that’s left now are the tight, black undies. “Leave them on for now. Go on, dress me.”

-

“Oh, oh!” Peter whimpers out loud. His arms are shackled to the headboard above his head. His legs are draped over Tony’s still fully clothed shoulders and the man’s cock pounds into him harsh and fast. The soft, thick wool pants have slid down to Tony’s knees where it rests on the sturdy mattress. “Oh” Tony coos as Peter gives him another quick gasp. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?” “P-Please, gimme everything, every last inch of you,” Peter pants heavily. He feels so incredibly full. It’s nothing like he’s ever experienced before, and it only aids in riding his ecstasy more and more. He can’t really feel Tony’s balls slapping against his skin yet, and somehow it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted at this moment. “More, need more!” “Yes, ’m gonna make you fall apart at the seams,” Tony growls. He slows down his movements for a good second and tightens his secure grip on Peter’s hips, dragging him up a bit. Peter snorts at the pun, but the light chuckle morphs into a loud and pleading moan when Tony slowly but surely fills Peter up wholly. The weight of his balls finally settling against his skin. Peter’s eyes water at the near overwhelming intensity of pure happiness coursing through him. He did it. He took a full seven inches inside of him.

Everything that happens after that is one big blur. Tony manages to hold him up with just one hand, using the other to drag sweet strokes on Peter’s hard and leaking cock. Everything just feels so goddamn perfect, the fire in his stomach building and building and building and- “I can’t- I can’t stop oh fuck oh Tony!!” Peter cries out, cum spurting from his cock right onto his chest. His eyes are pressed shut, his head pressed back into the soft, fluffy pillow. “I keep coming...” he mumbles completely dazed. It’s true though, he can feel the muscles jerk- aiding in forcing even the last few drops out of him.  Tony’s hips stutter. His breathing simply stops as he presses into Peter with such force that it brushes past Peter’s overstimulated prostate again. It stays there when the cum oozes from the man’s dick. It fills him up, Peter can feel the slight pulsing inside of him. 

“Oh, sweet boy…” Tony murmurs after a few seconds of undisturbed serenity. The firm grip suddenly becomes a very soft caress on Peter’s tired muscles, and it’s only then that he feels they’re trembling. Slowly, Tony helps him put his legs down. As a result, his cock slips out, and Peter gasps when his hole desperately tries to clench around nothing after the fast pounding it received.  “Mmh- feels cold,” he mumbles. Tony is quick to respond to that, shifting around so he’s able to tug the sheets up to cover the exhausted boy. Peter lets out an appreciative groan.  “So,” he smiles sleepily, the tiredness catching up with him, “-do you like your new suit?” Tony snorts, and he nods. “It’s perfect, such hidden talent in you, Spider-Boy.” “Oh, go fuck yourself,” he giggles. Tony tilts his head playfully. “Nah, I’d rather fuck you. After a short break, obviously.”

Peter gives the man a teasing push, only to draw him down and nuzzle into his chest. He might not be sure what Tony wants from him, but Peter sure as fuck wants cuddles right here, right now. “Hug me.” “As you wish, honeycomb.”

[clara-licht]

You’ve Gotta Be Kidding Me

You woke up in a familiar place with Marvel actors staying there. Or at least, you thought they were actors...

Pairing: The Avengers & Reader Genre: Platonic, general Word Count: 1.9k Note: This is an edited version from my old work in deviantart where the idea is you somehow met the Avengers, but you thought they were the actors instead. It’s been a while since I last wrote something so this was a nice refresher! I got a Peter Parker imagine in works right now, though.

When you opened your eyes, you instantly regretted it.

"Ugh!"

You shielded your eyes from the burning light. When your eyes finally adapted to the lightings, you took in your surroundings. You were in a familiar room. But you didn't think you've been there before. It just that you thought you knew this room. It was quiet, but not dead quiet. You kept looking around you in silence, until a voice startled you.

"Good morning, miss."

"Who's there?!" You immediately jumped out of the bed you'd been on.

"Please do not be alarmed. My name is FRIDAY, an Artificial Intelligence created by my boss, Anthony Stark."

Hearing this, you scoffed. FRIDAY? Anthony Stark? Okay, this was either a dream or someone was pulling prank on you. "Yeah, right. And I fell from the sky to SHIELD's Helicarrier, saved by Captain America, and was treated by Dr. Bruce Banner in Stark Tower. Or is it Avengers Tower?" You said sarcastically.

You got to admit; you loved Marvel. Even if you were pretty sure Endgame also ended your life as you knew it and you couldn't accept a lot of things that happened in that movie. Like Steve leaving Bucky for Peggy, who he knew already had a fulfilling life and children? Nonsense. Far From Home was also quite heartbreaking, seeing your favorite character, Peter Parker, going through a lot like that. You just re-watched it a few days ago and had a good cry about it. Or was it weeks ago? Or hours ago? Wait, why were your memories foggy? You couldn't remember what happened before you woke up in the room.

"Are you okay?"

It took a moment for you to regain your composure. "Yeah, I'm fine. So, care to explain what happened? You can't be the real FRIDAY. As much as how I wanted you to be, FRIDAY only exist in Marvel Universe. Where is this? How did I end up here? What happened? Who are you and what do you want?"

"One moment."

You raised an eyebrow. Now she intended to make you wait? Whoever that guy who pretended to be FRIDAY was, her voice could seriously pass as Kerry Condon's.

A sound of door sliding open made you turned around. And God did you not regret doing it.

"OH MY GOD. ROBERT DOWNEY JR?!"

"Who?" The vertically challenged man, who clearly was Robert Downey Jr. a.k.a Iron Man actor, frowned. Now you didn't care if it was a prank pulled by your friends. You got to meet Downey after all!

"Oh God, are you really?! What did I do to deserve meeting you?!" You started squealing.

"Hey, FRIDAY? Are you sure she's not mentally broken? She hit her head quite hard, didn't she?"

"Yes, boss. I ran full scan of her and right now the amount of dopamine in her brain is increasing- indicating that she's happy. Aside from that, I am 100% sure she is fine."

It was your turn to frown. "What? What scan?"

Downey chuckled and looked at you. "Follow me."

Slightly confused, you followed him.

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"So… Mr. Downey?" You called.

"Who is this Downey that you keep speaking of?"

"You, of course!"

"Well," He lifted an eyebrow as he inched closer to you, "my name is Tony Stark. Feel free to call me Tony, not that name of someone I don't even know about. I've never met someone who don't know about me before."

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. "Well, Tony," You emphasized his name, "if you keep insisting on playing the whole Iron Man act, then I will play along."

"Play?" He mumbled, face now confused. But he decided to say nothing as the elevator dinged and you two exited the cramped lift. He led you to a spacious room. On your way, you looked around. Now you knew why it felt familiar. That place was designed close to the Avengers Compound in the movie. Whoever did this prank, they really outdid themselves.

"And here we are!"

"What took you so long, Tony?"

"Brother Anthony! I see that the lady has woken up!"

"Oh, she's awake."

"Hey, Cap! That girl you saved is awake!"

"She is?"

You gaped.

No.

Freaking.

Way.

"Now I'm sure I must be dreaming." You muttered.

"What was it, sunshine?" Downey, you mean Tony, asked with that annoying smile. "So! Let me introduce you to-"

"Chris Hemsworth, Jeremy Renner, Scarlett Johansson, Elizabeth Olsen, Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, Ty Simpkins and oh my god it's Tom Holland and Tom Hiddleston. Yes, I know their names, thank you very much." You mumbled under your breath. "

"Okay, dear lady who seems to know whoever name that you've mistaken us for, I will correct those names for you." Tony sighed. "Meet Thor and his brother Loki who finally decided to stop being a menace after almost dying in the hand of evil purple ball sack," he gestured to Hemsworth and Hiddleston.

"Those two scary assassins over there are Clint Barton, known as Hawkeye, and Natasha Romanoff, or Black Widow," then he pointed at Renner and Johansson.

"Wanda Maximoff, also known as Scarlett Witch." Olsen hesitantly waved at you.

"Capsicle, Steve Rogers, and practically-his-boyfriend, Bucky Barnes." Evans looked at Tony disapprovingly while Stan nodded politely at you. "Usually they got a third guy, Sam Wilson, with them, but he's currently visiting his family."

"And lastly, my interns, Peter Parker and Harley Keener. Vision and Banner are somewhere in this Compound."

You scoffed again. "This might be the best time to wake up. Okay, wake up!" You close your eyes and started shaking your head. "Wake up!"

"What are you doing?" Renner, or Clint, asked.

"Why can't I wake up?" You mumbled. You slapped yourself, hard. "OW! DAMN, THAT HURTS!" Your eyes widened.

"It… hurts? So this is not a dream?" Blinking a few times, realization dawned on you. "Oh, this must be a prank. Alright, you got me. What the hell happened to me earlier and who organized this prank?"

Tom Holland looked up and raised a hand, "I can answer that!"

"Nope, you just stay there quietly, Underoos. Take it away, Cap." Tony said, followed by Holland pouting.

What a cute guy. Wait, no, focus!

Evans stepped forward, "I believe I can answer that."

He started explaining that when Peter (nope, it's Tom Holland, it's got to be Holland) was running on the tracks outside, he saw something falling out from the sky at a rapid pace. That something turned out to be you, who were unconscious at the time. Alarmed, he caught you (no, that doesn't make sense, IF I was really falling that fast, he shouldn't be able to catch me that easily without any of us injured) and called for help. They brought you inside and got Doctor Helen Cho (again, that must be Claudia Kim or something) to check you and she cleared you out. Apparently Doctor Stephen Strange (seriously, they got Benedict Cumberbatch here too?!) came by earlier to check you as well and deemed you non-dangerous, so they let you stay in one of the rooms in the Compound until you wake up.

"Ha, nice story, Captain. Come on, be serious here for a second!" You shook your head, "The Avengers isn't real, okay? They're just fiction! A made-up story! As much as I would love for them to be real, they only exist in Marvel Universe and thank goodness Sony and Disney kinda made up and let Spider-Man stays in MCU because otherwise I won't know what to do! Besides, there's just no way someone could have super powers like-"

"You're scared," Olsen stated softly, "I understand. But I know you somehow feel comfortable standing here with us. You recognized us as someone that you knew, someone you actually trust. You… You somehow feel at ease and want to believe us, although your mind keeps telling you that you're dreaming and this is a prank by your best friend (f/n). You're not, this is not."

You took a step back. It suddenly seemed dangerous to be in that room and whatever ease you felt (yes, she was right, you did feel comfortable for some reason) left you immediately. "Okay… I don't know how know that, but clearly there must be something wrong here…"

"Something wrong indeed." Hiddleston sighed in his attractive British accent as he, who was supposed to be sitting on the couch beside Hemsworth, walked pass from behind you with a bottle of coke in his hand.

"I-I thought you were there!" You pointed at the couch.

"I was."

"Then how-"

"It's not hard to teleport, mortal."

"What-"

"Are you okay? You look pale." Renner, who you started to believe was the real Clint Barton, walked towards you.

"No! Stay where you are!"

"Miss-"

You slid down and sat on the floor, pounding head in your hands. "This is not real. It can't be. It can't be. It can't be…" You whispered over and over again in between your short breath. Your heart was racing and your whole body started shaking.

"Miss, take a deep breath-"

"SHUT IT!"                                                    

"Boss, the lady seems to be in distress and starting to show symptoms of panic attack."

"Shit. Hey, hey, come on, breathe slowly-"

"I'm sorry, is this the wrong time to come?"

A new voice made you turn around, only to see a weird person with red and green skin wearing a shiny cape coming in, followed by a big green figure.

"V-Vision?" You croaked out.

"Uh, yes. Do I know you?"

And that was the cue for you to pass out.

❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊❊

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"We're not."

"But there's just no way-"

"And there's just no way for you to come from a dimension where it seems so peaceful."

"It's not peaceful! War still happens!"

"Yes, but no outer space threat? Really?"

"It's just a fiction!"

"Well it's not. Look at Loki."

When you regained your consciousness, you were still surrounded by some the Avengers. The real Avengers. It made you accept the fact that it was not, indeed, a dream.

"So, I fell out from the sky," Peter nodded. "and this is the Avengers Compound." He nodded again. "You all have no idea what happened to me since Dr. Strange, Maximoff, Stark, Thor, and even Loki knows nothing." They nodded. "And I can't even remember what happened before it!"

"Hey, we'll found out about it." Vision said reassuringly.

"How do you know that I'm not evil?" You asked.

"He's worthy of Mjölnir, and he can see pass you. He knows." Thor said with a smile.

"Besides Strange said you're fine. Maximoff also doesn't feel any threat coming off from you, and Peter's tingle-" Tony stopped himself, "Uh, I mean, Peter is good at sensing bad people and he's fine."

"Are you sure you can help me regain my memory?" You asked, ignoring the little blunder. You must tell them what you knew later and asked about the timeline. Tony mentioned 'evil grape ball sack' which definitely meant Thanos, but he was alive, along with Natasha and Vision, so there must be something different.

"With all our might."

"How?"

"Well, let's start with you telling us your name."

"It's (y/n), (y/n) (l/n)."