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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

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little situation | part 34.

Summary: For years, HYDRA had been trying to use the samples of Steve’s DNA to make another super-soldier. They finally succeed and when S.H.I.E.L.D. breaks her out, Cap is forced to come face to face with his kid and figure out parenting on an Avengers’ lifestyle.

Warnings: maybe potential childhood trauma but nothing really,

Pairing: Steve Rogers x blackdaughter!reader, avengers x child!reader, peter parker x black!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

“Sarah, sweetheart, don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Says the man who’s been throwing the shield for two hours straight.”

“Alright,” Sam conceded. “How about we both take a break?”

You nodded. You and Sam left the newest area of the training room designed for you. It looked like nothing more than a long hallway. The purpose was so Sam could learn how to throw the shield and really use it as an extension of his body the way Steve used to. You were trying to figure out all you could do with the Space Stone. Everyone insisted it wasn’t that necessary but you were determined. The unspoken reason was in case something like Thanos ever happened again, you felt that you should be in the best condition possible to help fight.

You also thought it was smart to prepare in case Wanda ever showed her face again. After Pietro’s funeral, without Vision or her brother, Wanda sort of disappeared. Steve was doing his best to look for her but Wanda’s magic was terribly advanced. It was easy for her to just vanish. Every night, you looked at the letter she left you. Wanda felt sad for leaving you but she needed time alone and time to cope.

You understood her and when you guys found her, there was nothing that you would hold against her. The hardest part— the part Steve hated— was having to work together with some organization called S.W.O.R.D. If he knew that all of this was involved with running SHIELD, he wouldn’t have let Nick retire. But Steve was enjoying his desk job because it meant he got to be the best almost-stay-at-home dad ever.

Sam turned off the training room lights since no one else was there and you guys went back to the apartment. Steve was sitting at the dining room table instead of his office, going over the mid-mission progress report that he had received from Bucky’s mission and a few lower level missions. He looked up when he heard the door close.

“Oh, look, it’s my two favorite superheroes.”

Both you and Sam rolled your eyes in jest at his comment. Walking over, Sam gave Steve a kiss and you gave him a hug. You pulled the mission report off of the table before Steve could grab it from you.

“You’re always touching everything, get off the table. What about the report is even interesting to you?” he asked.

“Nothing, Dheaidí, I just want to look at it,” you said, not jumping down from the table. “Question.”

“Answer,” Steve and Sam responded.

“If Peter and I wanted to go on a nighttime date outside the compound some time next week… without a chaperone, what would you say?”

“Where? Itinerary?” Steve set down his papers.

“So, that’s a yes?”

“That’s a we’ll see depending on your next answer.”

“Dinner at the diner by school and the Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

“They still do that show?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, every Friday.”

Sam and Steve looked at each other and shrugged.

“I don’t see why not. I’m assuming you want Happy to bring you guys back.”

“No, we want to stay out and book a hotel room instead… kidding! Kidding, we’re just going to get Insomnia Cookies after the show. Can Happy drop us off?”

Steve and Sam agreed and you finally jumped down from the table, handing Steve back the page of his report. They watched you skip to your room telling FRIDAY to call Peter so you could tell him how your parents agreed. Steve’s hand instinctively reached for Sam. It had been a couple weeks since everyone had come back and in that time, he had become very touchy feely. Especially when it came to you, Sam, Bucky, or Nat. Steve still felt like you all might disappear.

If anyone were to walk past your room, it would once again look empty. You had a tendency to forget to charge your hearing aids and didn’t want to risk them turning off at Rocky Horror. So while they were charging, you were sitting in your bathtub on FaceTime with Peter in order to sign with him. He didn’t know a few words every now and then, but for the most part he had come really far in his learning. Your family always teased that you and Peter were sickly sweet with puppy love.

The events of the rest of the night would prove them correct. Instead of getting off FaceTime, you and Peter turned the cameras around to shower and change into pajamas before turning them back and finishing your nightly routines. You walked into the bedroom, grabbing a fully charged hearing aid and popping it in. The room was dimly lit with only the lamp on your nightstand as you buried yourself under blankets and turned on your side to keep talking to Peter. He looked away while he was telling you a story and when his attention was back on the screen he saw your eyes were closed.

“Goodnight, Sarah. I love you,” Peter whispered, taking a picture and hanging up.

“Sarah, are you going to go on the grade trip this summer?” MJ asked as she approached your locker.

“The Europe one? No, I don’t think so. I think my dads want Wanda home first before everyone starts traveling around the globe. Besides, the trip is the same time we’re supposed to be going to New Asgard.”

“New Asgard?”

“Yeah, the Tesseract. Space Stone stuff and my powers.” You closed your locker and the two of you started walking to the cafeteria.

“Sounds fun, I’ll miss you on the trip.”

“Take plenty of pictures for me.”

“Of course. Oh.” MJ pulled out her phone. “Did you see this the other day?”

“What am I looking a— did that dude just slice a bus in half? Where is this?”

“San Francisco. They’re calling him Razor Fist.”

“Well, I can see why. I wonder who that guy is?” You pointed to the Asian dude that was fighting this so called Razor Fist.

“He’s not an Avenger?”

“Scott’s not even an Avenger, we’re a very close team. But, no, I’ve never seen him at SHIELD before. Hey, can you send me that? Dheaidí’s gonna want to see this.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

You two sat down across from Ned and Peter. Peter felt like he was going to shrink under your gaze. He was positive you didn’t blink once as you observed him. He was about to ask if something was on his face or if he did something wrong when he saw you move your left hand from where it was resting under your chin.

Peter watched your pointer finger, pinky, and thumb unfurl from your fist. The sign for I love you. You wouldn’t look at him as you signed it. Your chin was now resting on your right hand and you looked at everyone around the cafeteria, observing new faces from those that weren’t blipped and now were in your grade.

“I heard you the other night,” you whispered.

Peter’s face turned red. He meant the confession with his whole heart but that didn’t mean he was necessarily ready for you to hear it. You didn’t say anything else as you put your hand down. Peter didn’t even have the chance to feel awkward about it as you distracted him by taking the comic book out of his hand to read it.

“No! Peter Parker, did you buy your own comic?” You whisper-yelled so no one else would hear.

“Hey! It’s my first merch. It’s called The Amazing Spider-man. That’s kind of sick, isn’t it? They gave me a whole series after I got snapped and I missed so many volumes. You might be used to it but I’m not, and turn to page eight,” Peter said as you flipped. “I got this issue ‘cause Ned told me.”

“It gets boring after a while, unless you’re Uncle Tony… or Uncle Bruce.”

You did as he said to see your hero moniker, Gemstone, waiting on the balcony of an apartment that looked nothing like May’s place but a lot like Steve’s old Brooklyn one. The next panel was Spider-man hanging upside down, mask halfway off, as you held his face while you kissed him.

“They ship our heroes,” Peter said with a smile.

“Congrats, your relationship has been validated,” MJ joked.

Ned pointed to the comic that now laid flat on the table. “Have you two ever tried that?”

This time it was your turn to feel heat rise to your cheeks, blessing the heavens that only the red on Peter’s face would be noticed by anyone. Peter grabbed the book and shoved it back in his backpack while you sputtered through a ‘no’ and gulped down your water.

Having classes with Ned and MJ for the rest of the day meant you and Peter were incessantly teased until school was over. You weren’t sure why it was so awkward for both of you, probably just the abruptness of Ned’s question. You two had never tried kissing with Peter upside down but the question alone made you very awkward.

“Dad just got back from the Flag Smashers mission and said you’re sleeping on the couch again if you don’t come upstairs with me,” you said as you entered Steve’s office.

Steve figured it must’ve been late if you were already back from your date with Peter. He should’ve been upstairs but he wanted to finish checking all the files he had been sent. The video you sent him from San Francisco had to be investigated and then so did the update on Wanda and so did trying to convince Sam to take the shield after he found out that his husband donated it to the Smithsonian and decided to stay the Falcon.

Nick conveniently forgot to mention that Steve wouldn’t be doing just mission reports from agents but paperwork from the different boards in the UN that the S.H.I.E.L.D. branch worked with. He wasn’t as bad as Tony when it came to staying late but Sam chewed his ear about as much as Pepper did Tony. So Steve was glad Sam sent you to retrieve him instead.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming, just let me finish this.”

“What is it?”

“Stephen and Wong want to take on that video you sent me. I don’t know, wizard stuff. If it makes my life easier, I don’t really care. Are those chocolate chip cookies?”

He pointed to the box in your hand. You looked through them.

“This one is. Here.”

You plopped down on the edge of his desk, handing him one of the Insomnia Cookies. Steve looked down at your shirt. He had to restrain himself from making a hum of disapproval at the giant Spider-man mask on the front of the shirt. You didn’t own anything Winter Soldier or Falcon or Captain America, from when it was him or Sam.

He recalled seeing only four Avengers merch in your closet. An Iron-Man onesie that Tony thought was hilarious, the Black Widow sweatpants Nat requested you wear after seeing Tony’s merch, and the large t-shirt you pulled out when you were missing Clint and Pietro because memorial shirts were made for them.

Not once did you ever request their clothes though. Steve thought, yeah it was a little petty to be jealous of his daughter’s boyfriend but you were his family first. Was it too hard to get a shirt? They all got your merch and each other’s— Sam’s favorite thing odd enough were the Winter Soldier sweatpants. Steve took the cookie and ignored the shirt.

“How was your date?”

“It was nice. Rocky Horror’s weird.”

“Weird good or weird bad?”

“Just weird… Is Wanda coming home yet?”

Steve shook his head.

“She says she still needs time to understand her magic before coming back. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone else so I don’t think we’ll be seeing her for a little while, Babydoll. But you can probably visit her soon, I don’t think she’ll mind. She might like the company, actually. You convince your dad to take the shield back?”

It was your turn to shake your head. “He keeps saying that it feels like it belongs to someone else. You kind of have hard shoes to fill, Dheaidí.”

Steve sighed. The shield was Sam’s and he believed that with his entire heart but convincing his own husband seemed to be a different challenge. Life after the Blip was slowly putting itself together but falling apart all at the same time:

Wanda was found but still missing in a sense, there was a potential new hero, Tony and him were no longer heroes but retired, Sam wouldn’t take the shield, his sister-in-law wouldn’t take Avengers’ money to fix the Wilson family boat, Bucky’s nightmares returned after the Blip and weren’t getting better, Bucky hated the therapy that Steve had put him in, his daughter had a boyfriend and was getting closer and closer to becoming an actual adult.

Out of all the things, you no longer being his little girl was definitely the worst part of it. Steve clicked out of all his files, turning the computer off.

“You don’t worry about any of that though. Just focus on school and your space stone thing.”

“And Peter. We have another date on Saturday. Uncle Jamie said he’d be a chaperone.”

Steve deadpanned. “How could I forget? Don’t forget, Morgan’s birthday is this weekend. You can’t miss your cousin’s party for a date.”

“Peter’s invited too.”

Your father sighed. “Of course he is.”

“I mean he’s practically family— Uncle Tony’s! Not ours, that would be weird considering we make out, I mean we just kiss. Promise nothing…”

Steve held up a hand. “I don’t want to know. How about we go to bed and act like this part of our conversation never happened?”

“Sounds great. Want another cookie?”

“Absolutely.”

You and Steve awkwardly munched on cookies and made your way back to your floor in the compound. Moments like this was when everyone said the resemblance between you and Steve was uncanny, aside from the blond hair. You two had the same awkwardness and lack of good communication without stumbling over your words. The goodnights were short and curt as you both went to your own rooms.

As Bucky brought you and Peter to Morgan’s party, Steve gave a small smile before heading into the kitchen under the guise of looking for some more drinks. Tony laughed as you practically held Peter down while Morgan gave him a princess makeover. He looked around to see if anyone was getting footage when he noticed that one particular supersoldier was missing.

“Cap?” Tony called as he snuck into the house. “Ca— Steve, are you good?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said in an unconvincing tone.

Tony walked over, deciding not to say anything about noticing Steve wipe away tears. He looked at what the other man was looking at. The picture of you, Tony, and Peter playing chess in the lab. Steve sighed.

“Sorry, Tony. This is your little girl’s day, I don’t mean to ruin it.”

Tony opened the fridge to look for another soda, handing one to Steve before cracking open one for himself. He leaned against the kitchen sink. Both of them took long swigs of their drinks. Tony shook his head.

“You’re not ruining anything. It’s hard isn’t it, seeing Sarah grow up?”

“Yeah. Even harder when I missed most of it. She should’ve had some dumb princess party like this when she was younger and she had a HYDRA cell instead.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that, Steve, you weren’t even thawed out.”

“But I can blame myself for letting her get taken and the Blip. And it’s my fault she’s here in the first place. That kid and her mom would have had a chance if I wasn’t her dad… You know, I went to see her mom. When I was returning the stones. I just couldn’t help myself. She was a bright woman, looked so full of life.”

“Stev—”

“I didn’t talk to her,” he cut Tony off. “I just stared like a creep. Babydoll looks like an exact mix of both of us.”

“Steve,” Tony said more firmly. “You’ve got to stop blaming yourself for the kid’s past. You were in ice, you didn’t know, and you stepped up to the plate the moment you found out. The only person regretting missing Sarah’s younger years is you. She might be getting older but she doesn’t stop seeing herself as your little girl.”

As if someone called you, you came walking in. “Dheaidí! Cass and AJ are here, so is Aunty Sarah. Are you done with your soda?”

Steve stuck it out for you to finish. “My favorite Sarah’s here?”

“I thought I was your favorite Sarah.”

Steve pulled you in for a hug, swaying the two of you back and forth. “You’re always my favorite Sarah, Babydoll.”

“Guess what?”

“What?”

“Uncle Jamie won’t stop staring at her like a creep. I thought you said he was a ladies’ man in the 40s?”

“Give Buck a break, it’s been a while.”

“So if he marries Aunty Sarah then he’s legally a part of the family now, right?”

“Are you trying to play matchmaker? Stay out of adult business.”

“I’m almost an ad—”

“Nope, don’t want to hear it. Forever my little girl.”

“I know,” you said, making Tony give Steve a shove because he was right. “But I’m not twelve anymore. Boys don’t have cooties and I definitely know what flirting looks like. Uncle Jamie likes Aunty Sarah, she’s totally into him, and I think you should help him change her name from Wilson to Barnes.”

“G.I.”

“Yes, Uncle Tony?”

“How many rom-coms have you and the Spiderling been watching?”

“Like all of them.”

“Explains so much,” Tony muttered into his soda.

The entire party moved from outside to inside as Morgan’s elementary school friends left and only the Avengers and family were left. Pepper had ushered everyone into the cabin house where the party was being held instead of at the compound. Ever the manager and businesswoman, she had an alarm set on her phone about the new Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian.

The government had actually wanted Steve there but he insisted that his niece’s birthday party was a more important event— not everyday did someone turn six. You all gathered on the couches as Pepper turned on the television. Steve, Sam, and Bucky all rolled their eyes at seeing you cuddled up to Peter who got most of the princess makeup off minus the unicorn tattoo on his cheek. Your actual cousins, Cass and AJ, started making kissy noises while Tony shielded his own daughter’s eyes and told Morgan that she couldn’t date until she was your age and shouldn’t even think about it.

While you enjoyed being the oldest Avenger baby, you suddenly remembered how much younger cousins could be so annoying. Clint’s kids weren’t helping as they joined in. Cooper, the closest in age to you, was the only mature one about it. You didn’t mind if he had wanted to join in on the teasing. Losing Clint was hard on you but he was only just your uncle. He was their dad.

They had slowly been getting better, coming round the compound more with Aunt Laura. So if making fun of your relationship helped them feel better then you would gladly let them. Cass and AJ were a different story, however. You grabbed the pillow from behind you and chucked it at the two boys. Sarah grabbed their phones when she saw them pull them out.

“Nope, no. Your cousin’s relationship is not for you to gain more followers. I thought I told you no Instagram anyway.”

“It’s not for Insta, Mom,” AJ whined. “All the girls at school think Sarah and Peter are relationship goals.”

“And Evan,” Cass chimed in.

“Yeah and Evan. They pay us for exclusives you can’t get on Insta or paparazzi stuff. It’s for vision boards, manifesting stuff. Makes a fortune.”

“How much?” You asked before their mom could scold them.

“A buck fifty per picture, adds up with all the kids paying.”

“You should be charging at least two fifty,” Peter commented.

You nodded. “I was going to say that.”

“Sarah,” your aunt started. “Don’t encourage them.”

You set your head back on Peter’s chest as the tv program started. Did you two pose a little bit for Cass and AJ to get a good picture? Maybe. If a bunch of preteen girls paid your cousins to make you and Peter their little vision board avatars, you weren’t going to stop their hustle. It didn’t affect you two at all. You might actually pay one of those girls for a physical vision board as an anniversary gift.

The mood in the house was a lot calmer with just family. You all passed around leftover snacks, drinks, and cake as the Smithsonian did a live in-depth look at some of the new additions to the exhibit. The US Secretary stood next to the Smithsonian director— the glass case holding Steve’s shield off to the side of them. Cooper sat up straight.

“I can’t believe you gave up the shield, Uncle Sam.”

Your dad just shook his head. “It felt right. I enjoy being Falcon anyway.”

“You think they’ll let us borrow it if we ask?”

Steve and Sam turned to you. “Why do you need it?”

“No reason.”

Sam pursed his lips. “We’ll revisit this conversation later.”

“My answer will still be no reason.”

“See that. That right there, kid, is how I know you’re up to something.”

“And now for the moment everyone has probably tuned in for,” The US Secretary said, drawing everyone’s focus again. “What about the legacy of the shield? Well, Captain Rogers provided a few words for us.”

You all listened to the speech that Steve had pre-recorded, complimenting him for the nice words. The secretary stopped the clip.

“Wise words from our beloved captain. While his legacy lives in this shield and the person behind it can never be replaced, we hope the American people and the world find it in their hearts to make room for the symbol that is Captain America to live on. Help us give a warm welcome to the new man we have picked to help carry Captain Rogers’ burden of being a symbol and hope. A man who embodies the greatest of America’s values. Welcome your new Captain America, Captain John Walker.”

Your jaws all dropped. You immediately turned your head to look at Steve and Sam, both men frozen. As the program ended, each of you slowly recovered. Natasha shook her head.

“They can’t do that, can they? That shield is Steve’s, it’s Sam’s too if anything.”

“Doesn’t matter if they can,” Bruce said. “They just did.”

“No. No one’ll go for it.” Steve tried to sound sure but even he didn’t know.

If this is what they were going to do with his shield then he would have never retired. If it wasn’t going to Sam then it shouldn’t have gone to anyone. He was fuming on the inside, not wanting to show it because it was still Morgan’s birthday. A lot of calls and visits had to be made when you guys got back to the compound.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x reader #avengers x teen!reader #avengers fic #marvel fic

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yourmcu · 4 years

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Emotional Support Mode

Pairings: Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary:

in which the reader is the loner, antisocial daughter of Tony Stark and the other Avengers including her father never acknowledge her presence (they thought some sort of interaction made you uncomfortable) so she becomes friends with Friday instead - Tony probs finds out and it’s gonna be all cute n fluffie once he realizes -

Word count: 2,243

a/n: hi just wanted to write fluffy tony :)) also I used they/them for friday’s pronouns

Warnings: angst n fluff, friday’s a bit more advanced (not like they aren’t already but) bc they could almost act like a literal human here.

read it on ao3!

You arrive back at the Avengers facility, shoulders slumped and just tired in general since you have a lot of homework and projects to do from school, most of them due by the end of the week. You also have exams later in the week.

“Hey, Fri,” you huff as you make your way to the elevator.

“Welcome home, Y/N. Where do you want to go?”

Yes, you're very close with the A.I that they started calling you by your first name. “To my room - and uh, will you remind me to read two chapters in my history book after I’m done with all my homework? I also have this project, I just need some measurements later, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing.”

“Thank you.”

It’s going to be a long night, you sigh heavily just thinking about it. Now you’re probably wondering, ‘you live with the Avengers! Why don’t you ask Tony and Bruce for help? Maybe Steve and Bucky for your History test?’

Yeah, well... you barely talk to any real person you live with. Maybe it’s you, you always thought you're making the team uncomfortable. You don’t even talk to your own father often which is kind of depressing on your part.

You love them, they’re like your extended family, but it just isn’t working out. Maybe they just don’t like you. Up to this day you still wonder why Tony took you in when you were just a baby (you were a mistake from one of his one night stands) - he had the choice not to.

“I’m assuming you zoned out again. You have arrived to your room five minutes ago.” Friday announces.

“Y-yeah sorry,” you shuffle out of the elevator and swiftly head to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“I also asked if I should inform Mr. Stark that you have arrived home.”

“No, no thanks. He’s busy and... probably wouldn’t care anyway,” You mutter the last part as you pile the books you need on your desk. “Can you put my study playlist on, please?”

----

“What time is it, Friday?”

“7PM. I was about to remind you to take a break.”

You get up from your chair and stretch, halfway through the last of your homework which is a two page essay. “You’re too kind, thanks pal,” when you walk out your room to head to the kitchen and grab a snack, the lounge is empty, kitchen empty,

“The team’s on a mission? I thought they had the whole week off,” you say before gulping down a water bottle.

“I checked the security footage: they left about an hour ago. Captain Rogers was talking about getting dinner.”

You put the bottle down. “Oh,” you try to mask your disappointment. This isn’t your first time being alone, they always left you here when they had a mission of course but... well, it’s not like they want you around them. “I’ll - I’ll just make myself something later, then. Not a big deal. I have to study anyway.”

Another hour later, the Avengers are back. They're all conversing happily as they pile in the lounge. Peter's rambling about upgrades for the Spiderman suit while Tony's typing away in his phone, nodding at everything he says. Everyone else is arguing about the TV channels and talking about the new restaurant they ate at.

Rhodey shifts, looking around. “Why do I feel like we forgot something?”

Natasha looks at him, waiting for him to go on.

“I assure you, I brought Mjolnir with me this time.” Thor butts in.

“No not that, what time does Y/N get home from school?” No one answers. It’s not like any of them know. It's natural that Rhodey would be worried about his goddaughter (even if they rarely talk). He turns his head to his best friend who’s now walking away with Peter, an arm around his shoulder. “Tony, where’s Y/N?”

He doesn’t hear since he has his full attention on his protégé.

“I’ll start making this tomorrow, I guess. I still have to buy materials.” You mumble to yourself, but you hope Friday's listening to everything you say just to make you feel less lonely. You swipe the hologram of the blueprint away and place the thick books in front of you.

“I would like to recommend a suitable study plan.” they state.

You rub your eyes, sighing, “I’m already halfway, I would’ve considered it earlier though.”

“This is only a recommendation, feel free to ignore it.”

You push yourself away from the desk and mutter a “go on,”, fiddling with your pen.

“Asking Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes would give you more details for your History examination, since the pair were originally from that time period. The same goes for Mr. Banner for your Science examination, I believe he has seven Ph.D’s, you may also approach Vision for the same topic. Mr. Stark has all the necessary materials for your project in his lab. Would you like me to-”

If only it were that easy. It should be easy, the thought alone makes you really nervous. “No, I - I appreciate the recommendation, Friday, but - I think I can do this on my own.”

“But you’re tired and it is almost midnight. I would help you myself but you specifically told me not to.”

They’re not wrong. Your eyes are starting to droop and you barely understand anything you're reading. You're also fighting back tears - why is talking to your family so hard?

“I can sense sadness. Would you like me to activate emotional support mode?”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds great right about now.”

----

“Crap. Guess we lost track of time again, kid,” Tony wipes his hands with a rag while he looks at the time on his computer. “You better get home. I’ll send May a text for keeping you this late.”

“Okay, thank you Mr. Stark. I’m just gonna use my suit-”

“No. Happy will drive you.”

Peter knew better than to argue and insist so he just nods and smiles sheepishly. A minute later Happy came ‘round to take him home.

Tony turns back around. “Friday, make a new project for me please, I’m adding minor upgrades to the Spiderman suit.”

“Not now, boss.”

Oh. He did not expect that. “Excuse me?”

“Y/N is currently opening up. I would like to give her my full, undivided attention. Please come back after fifteen minutes or so.”

Tony doesn’t exactly know how to feel about that. He never sees her outside her room anymore that he kinda forgot she existed tonight - oh fuck, they didn’t bring her to dinner with them.

“Well,” he exhales. “What is she saying?”

“That would be an invasion of privacy.”

“I’m her father-”

“Are you, sir?” Friday’s clever remark makes him stop abruptly.

It’s pretty clear that he’s been a shit father. Not only does he ignore you all the time but he treats Peter way better than his own flesh and blood. The Avengers on the other hand, they were nice people, but just didn’t understand so they try their best to get out of your way.

You were afraid of rejection, afraid to interact, because you had no idea what everyone thought of you. Did they like you? Did you make them uncomfortable? Did they want you around? What about Tony, did he really want a daughter in his life? Because you noticed he’d be better off with a son, yeah, like Peter goddamn Parker.

Tony sighs, walking out of his lab and heads to the mini bar to grab a drink. He needs to think: there's absolutely nothing wrong about you, he just didn’t do his job right, you thought he didn’t care, you thought nobody did. Even Friday is turning against him, doing a better job of comforting and being there for you.

“God, I’m such an asshole,” he mutters to himself, rubbing his forehead. He drinks his last shot and heads to the kitchen. “She still awake?” He calls out.

“She is.” Friday has a bitter tone.

He's hesitant to ask again, feeling really bad for not knowing this simple question - “what’s her favorite beverage?”

----

“How do you feel?”

You sniffle. “Well y’know, better than before. I should probably go to sleep. Thanks, Fri.”

“You’re welcome. Also, Mr. Stark is outside your door.”

“W-what?” You put away your books and straighten up, rubbing your damp eyes. “You’re serious? Okay, uh, let him in?” It's more of a question.

“Alright.”

You turn to face your desk as Tony enters the room, holding two steaming mugs. He sits at the end of your bed, just right next to the chair you're sitting on. “Hi,” he gives you a small smile and hands you a mug.

What’s the occasion?

“What’s this?” You ask quietly before taking the mug from his hands. Tony's being gentle and soft, it's odd but you’re not complaining.

“Green tea with honey. I... I thought I saw you make that stuff once.” He says, not mentioning the fact that Friday told him that.

“Oh, well, yeah,” you take a small sip. He added a bit too much honey but other than that it was good. “I thought you preferred coffee, though,”

Tony shrugs, his eyes glistening when he looks at you. “Wouldn’t hurt to try something new.”

“Did - did you want something, Dad?” You always found yourself awkward, couldn’t even make conversation with someone for long, always wanted to get straight to the point so it could be over with.

He looks like he wants to say something but he just averts his gaze to you, his hands, the floor, then suddenly he leans in and hugs you. Your feel your heart swell and body warm up, it’s a new sensation for you after all, you rarely get hugs from people. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For everything. I’m such a bad dad, I don’t deserve you. I even forgot you when we went out to dinner.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything. I had loads of stuff to do earlier anyway, so, but yeah I was just - I just overreact, I’m sensitive. I don’t blame you and the others for not liking me, I know there’s nothing like-able about me, I’m not like Peter-” You ramble, tears now leaving your eyes again.

“Sweetheart, don’t say that,” Tony says as he pulls you closer to him, head resting against his chest while he rubs your back comfortably. “Y/N Stark, you are smart, brilliant - I was just an ass for not acknowledging that.”

“I know you’re just saying that to-”

“Oh, but I’m not,” he now places his hands on your shoulders, getting you to look at him. “Tell me who built their first engine when they were eight?”

You blush, “Dad-”

“No, come on, I wanna hear it.”

“I did.”

“Yes you did. And who made a completely functioning robot at their middle school science fair that blew all the teacher’s minds?”

You’re trying to hide a smile, recalling the memory, “I did.”

“And who,” Tony gets up and walks to the bulky looking thing that you covered with a sheet, pulling it off, “is currently building a computer from scratch?”

“Dad! That’s still a work in progress,” he messily places the sheet back and chuckles.

“My point is, you’re a clever and talented girl, Y/N. Don’t bring yourself down. And you don’t have to be shy around your family, those idiots have been dying to get to know you but since you don’t talk much... they don’t want to force it. We love you,” he says. “I hope you forgive me ‘cause I really wanna make it up to you. I’m not calling Peter in for a few weeks.” Tony sits down beside you again.

You couldn’t believe he’d do that for you. “You don’t have to, if you need him for something then-”

“-then you could help me instead, if you’re up for it.”

“I’m really sorry for being such a lonely freak,” you yawn, getting back into Tony’s open arms. “I love you.”

Tony tucks you in and lies down beside you, “I love you tons, kiddo.”

You snuggle into his chest, feeling his steady breathing while he rests his chin above your head.

----

It's morning. The Avengers are gathered at your open bedroom door.

“Are you getting all of this, Friday?”

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Steve turn that shuttering sound down!” Natasha hisses at the super soldier who's doing his task, taking pictures.

Steve almost drops the phone and has Bruce fix the volume for him.

They’re all watching you and Tony cuddle together, still fast asleep.

“Do we have to stay here until they wake up?”

“Unless you have a great way of waking them up, yes. Now shut up.”

“If you think about it we definitely look creepy right now.” Sam comments.

“It’s their fault for having the door wide open all night!” Clint says.

Tony's actually awake the whole time, listening to them bickering. “You have three seconds to get the hell out of here before I make all of you polish my suits.” With that, the team races down the hall, pushing each other to get away first like literal children.

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fakefanofmarvel · 3 years

Text

Campus// Teacher! Peter X Student!Reader

Warning: Student-teacher relationship ( although both are legal age)

This is loosely based on the song Campus by Vampire Weekend

You woke up to the cold air hitting your body as the covers that hugged your body the night before had fallen on the floor. You noticed your bed that was occupied by someone last night was now empty. You brushed it off because you were sure he had a class that morning too. When you checked the time you noticed you had slept through your alarm for class. You quickly hurried to get dress so you wouldn’t be late to start your new class for the semester.

School has just started back and this was 1st semester of your senior year and you we’re excited yet a little scared. You had spent the last 4 years living on campus, making new friends, forming relationships, and of course, partying. Last night was no exception. You and your roommate threw a party last night in your apartment and the turnout was pretty wild. You had met this guy Peter last night. You had never seen him before but you assumed he had just transferred from another university. He was a tall brown hair guy with brown eyes. The one thing that drew you to him was that he was super funny and had a really bubbly personality. When you first noticed him he was standing with a group of people. You made your way over to him and introduced yourself. The two of you immediately hit it off. Not long after the party ended you and Peter had made your way to your room and you can imagine what happened next.

After you got dressed, you grabbed everything you needed and made your way out of your apartment to hopefully make it to class on time. As you were speed walking to classes you checked your phone. You noticed you had a message from an unknown number.

‘Hi, it’s Peter, sorry I had to run off this morning. Had to get ready for my first class. Hope to see you soon

You smiled and replied with a ‘See you soon :)’ before shoving your phone back in your pocket. You made it to class just in time. You found a sit in the front of the class because your eyesight had never been the best. Once you were settled, you grabbed your laptop and got prepared to take notes. Just then the Professor walked in. You could notice that brown hair and bright smile from a mile away. Peter?

He walked in and wrote his name on the board before turning around to the class. When he saw you his face went pale. He soon got back to reality clearing his throat.

“Sorry about that guys. Guess I wasn't expecting so many shining faces this morning. Well, Good Morning class my name is Mr. Parker I’ll be your professor for Advanced Physics 2. Does anyone have any questions for me before we get started?”

A girl in the back raised her hand. Peter gestured for her to proceed with her question.

“Mr. Parker how old or you cause you look like you should be sitting up here with us”

The school erupted in laughter also gaining a chuckle from Peter. You remained quiet because you actually wanted to know the answer. You had left a lot up to your assumptions last night which is why you’re in the situation you are now. Being as that you slept with your professor.

“Well, I am 25. I was a pretty bright kid in high school. I graduated at 16, went straight into college, and earned my doctorate degree around this time last year” He answered

The class clapped and congratulated him. He accepted the praise before getting started with the class. The class that day felt like it went on forever. It was just the introduction to the class but it felt like he was teaching a whole lesson because of how anxious you were about what happened. Peter dismissed the class before walking up to you.

“Do you mind staying after for a few minutes please?” He asked

You nodded and finish putting your stuff in your bookbag as the rest of the class cleared out. You walked up to his desk where he had returned to.

“Yes Sir?” you questioned you tried to play it off since it was still students in the class

The last student walked out leaving the two of you alone. You let out a big sigh before freaking out.

“How could you not tell me you were a professor! Why were you at a college party? Oh my gosh, I fucked my professor. I’m literally living a lifetime movie right now!” Peter walked around his desk and grabbed you trying to calm you down. You eventually calmed down. You looked up into his eyes. They were soft and apologetic.

“I'm sorry (Y/N). I was at the party last night because I have a younger brother that goes here. He wanted to come really bad but he was scared so he asked me to come with him. I tried to tell him it wasn’t probably the best idea to be at a party with students but he insisted so I went and I’m glad I did cause I met you. I know I probably should have told you I was a professor but when I was talking to you it slipped my mind. I’m really sorry and I understand if you never want to see me again but I would love it if you did” He explained

You looked into his eyes. He seemed to be telling the truth. You pulled him into a kiss. You could feel him smile into the kiss.

“How am I supposed to pretend I never wanna see you again?” You smiled

He lifted you up hugging you since he was taller than you. You giggled and kissed him again before he put you back down.

“Well I have to go before my next class starts in 30 minutes and it’s all the way across campus so I’ll see you later?” You questioned

“Of course. Enjoy learning” He said

You laughed and walked out the door before turning back and waving.

#marvel imagine #peter parker x reader #peter fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker au #peter parker fluff #tom holland x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine

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peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology · 4 years

Text

The Sanguine Web - Part 1

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this, it is the first part of my 100 follower special, the other parts are coming shortly. I’ve been really wanting to a Hanahaki fic for awhile so here it is. I also want to do some different soulmate au’s so those will be coming soon! Love you guys so much xx

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death and blood

Summary: You try to figure out how to tell your friends your sick

Prompts

Masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

(y/n)’s pov

“I know this diagnosis is scary, but we’ve got a quite few options now,” Dr. Shaw smiled, though it felt a little backhanded, “Not, the only way we can guarantee your safe recovery is removal of the infection, but the good news there are plenty of doctors in the city who know how to perform the surgery so it wouldn’t take us very long at all to get you in. Alternatively, having your feelings requited will lead to the infection dying off on its own, or, you can try to resolve your own feelings. If you’d rather pursue one of those then a good first step is talking to them, as scary as that may be.”

“Okay,” I have to let everything soak in for just a minute, “Is the surgery risky?” “The actual surgery is very safe, though it will lead to the removal of your feelings for that person. The only real risk is the chance that it prevents you from falling in love in the future.”

“What are the chances that happens?”

“It’s about fifty fifty, and unfortunately there isn’t really a way for us to tell if that will be you, it’s just a risk we have to take,” she clasps her arms in front of her, “I’m not asking you to decide today, you’ve caught this very early so we’ve got a bit of time to figure things out. Until then I can recommend a therapist who specializes in Hanahaki’s, and there’s some antibiotics I can prescribe you that will help slow the infection.”

“Okay, thank you,” I swallow the lump forming in my throat, “I think maybe I’ll try and talk to him and work it out that way.”

She nodded, “Okay, most patients opt to try that first. We can still get you into surgery later if that doesn’t work out.”

“How late can I opt in?”

“Up until the infection starts spreading, once it’s outside of your lungs the surgery won’t do anything. However, if your feelings were to change at that point or your feelings are requited, there is still a chance you’d be able to pull through,” she began scribbling things onto a notepad, “That’s still far off right now, but this disease it unpredictable, so we’ll need you to come in every week for blood work and xrays. We’ll monitor everything very closely so we’ll know if we start getting close to the point of no return so to speak.”

“Alright, I guess straight to the pharmacy then?”

She nodded, “Good girl, and you call us if you need anything. If things feel like they’re accelerating or you start coughing up a lot straight to the hospital okay?”

I nod, “Okay, thank you.”

“Of course, I’ll see you next week.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I took the subway to the pharmacy stuck in an odd state of numbness. Part of me wanted to cry, or scream, but I just didn’t do anything. I’m in shock until the woman behind the pharmacy counter begins speaking to me.

“Alright sweetheart what can I do for you?” “Just getting this filled,” I hand her my prescription with a forced smile.

She takes the paper, squinting at it before frowning, “Oh my…” she types a few things and sighs, “I’ll be right back,” I drum my fingers nervously on the counter while I wait for her to return, finally she does carrying a little white bag, “I know this isn’t totally appropriate but I know they only prescribe this for one thing and…” she trails off for a second, starting to blush, “Well my girlfriend had Hanahaki’s too, and she was really scared, but she ended up telling me how she felt and it was great, she recovered just like that,” she offers me a sympathetic smile, “I know this is hard but you should talk to them, I’m sure whoever they are, they’ll at least want to help.”

It’s sweet of her to say, so I thank her and shove the bag in my purse on my way out. I’m sure Peter would want to help, but he’s with someone else, and they love each other. I don’t get to confess and clear things up and live happily ever after. I have to move on, it’s the only option for me. I’m not getting that surgery and risking never falling in love again. That’s not fair. Just because I fell for the wrong person this time I have to never love again? Or die?

I’m tearing up when I get home, and unfortunately everyone is already over.

Betty beams at me from the couch, “Hey, how’d it go?”

“Good,” my voice shakes a little, “They think it’s just, um, allergies. I’ve got some pills that should start clearing it up.”

She nods, though all of them look a little concerned, “You’re gonna be okay then right?”

I lie through my teeth, “Nothing life threatening.”

“Okay…” she seems to buy it, but I’m sure she’ll end up drilling me on it later, “You wanna join us then?” “Sure, just, uh, give me a second,” I retreat to my bedroom, dumping my purse and jacket before clutching myself tight. I just want to cry, but I have to wait, everyone’s going to know something is wrong if I try to hide out.

I return to the living room after consoluling myself for a minute, taking a seat besides Betty on the couch, “We ordered pizza,” MJ smiles, “I got that veggie one I was telling you about.”

“Hope it’s good,” I bite my cheek, I feel guilty even talking to her.

“It’s amazing, you’re gonna love it,” she insists.

Betty’s eyes bore into me suspiciously, “Are they really sure it’s just allergies?”

I nod, “Of course Betty, I promise I don’t need a lung transplant or something.”

“Are you sure?” she presses, “There was blood.”

“Blood?” MJ raises a brow.

Betty nods, “Yeah, she was coughing up blood last night, that’s why she even went to the doctor. It seemed worse than allergies.”

“My throat was just dry,” I try to explain, “I promise I’m fine, it’s just something in the air right now.”

“Okay,” she lets up, “But if you do need a lung transplant I’ve got you.”

“And maybe if you give (y/n) one of your lungs you two will get some sort of psychic connection,” Ned interjected, “I bet they’d make a tv show about you guys.”

Everyone starts laughing, and for the first time that day I let myself glance up at Peter. He’s so pretty, and so is his laugh, but before I can appreciate either of those things I start coughing. It’s an almost instant reminder that I can’t do that. Something tickles in my throat so I quickly stand up.

“Are you okay?” Peter frowns at me. I nod quickly, “Just need some water,” I cover my mouth with my hand as I struggle to pour myself some water.

I bend over the sink to make sure none of them can see the petal I cough up. I know it must be a begonia. Last finals week was really stressful for me, and in the middle of the week Peter had dragged me away from the cave I was studying in to relax for a while. He took me to this cute little market and bought me some flowers while we were out, begonias.

I shove the petal down the garbage disposal and wash away the blood, I’ll have to figure out what to do when I start coughing up more, full flowers too.

“Are you sure you're good?” Betty questions when I stand back up, I swear she has xray vision or something.

“Yeah, better now,” I take a big swig of my water, “I’ll be good as new in a few days.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Make yourself comfortable,” Dr. Morrison picks a notebook up off her desk. She seems very nice, I just hope she’ll be able to help me work through some of my feelings, “I’m really glad you came here, therapy can be scary, especially in your situation, so coming here is already a step in the right direction.”

“Thanks, I’m still a little nervous, but anything to help.”

She gives one kurt nod and glances down at her notepad, “Absolutely. I’d like to know what your intention is here so I can know how to help you best. Do you intend to get surgery?” I shake my head, “No, I’m not gonna get the surgery. I want to just try and move on.”

“Alright, is this person aware of your feelings?”

I shake my head, “No, he’s with someone else so that isn’t really an option for me.”

She nods, “Okay, can I ask his name?”

“Peter.”

“Peter,” she repeats, scribbling a few things down, “Are you two close?”

“Yeah, he’s my best friend.”

“Is he aware that you're sick?”

“No, I haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Why’s that?”

“I know they’d ask who and I don’t know what to tell them yet, and it’s still new. I mean I want to tell them eventually, but I think I still need some time.”

“Of course, you need to process everything first, that’s perfectly reasonable. I do encourage you to tell them though, having a good support system is going to help you feel a lot better, and you can always let them know you just don’t feel comfortable telling them who it is.”

“I will.”

She smiled, “So, what do you like about Peter?”

I blush, “Everything I guess, he’s smart and he’s funny and I always feel really good when I’m with him. I don’t know, we just kind of click.”

“You two spend a lot of time together?”

I nod, “Yeah, we hang out all the time, I probably see him more than my actual roommate.”

“How would you feel about spending less time together?”

“He’s my best friend, why would I do that?”

“Separation is going to help you move on, I’m not saying stop being friends or avoid him, but giving yourself space from him is going to be good for you.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I feel like therapy went well, I feel more hopeful when we finish, although I’m definitely tired. She told me the goal is to get me really comfortable with my feelings so I can move on. I decided to set myself a goal afterwards, I want to tell Betty before my next session, a week from today. I can’t hide it from her for too long anyway, we live together after all, and she’s already convinced there’s something more than just allergies going on. I debate even telling her when I get home, but Peter and Ned are in the living room, and I’m still not sure I’m ready.

“Hey,” Peter smiles to me as I walk in, “How was work?” “Fine. I didn’t realize you guys were coming over.”

“Oh yeah, we’re going to the movies. You should come, MJ is gonna meet us there.”

Dr. Morrison said separation is good, and I don’t really want to be their fifth wheel anyway.

“I think I’ll stay home,” I clutch my purse nervously, “Thanks for offering though.”

His lips pulled to a slight frown, “You sure? MJ picked some weird art film, it’d be more fun if you came.”

“Yeah, work was actually pretty tiring and I still have a bit of homework…”

“Okay,” his cheeks just barely dust pink, “Next time then?”

I nod, “Of course, you guys have fun,” I scurried to my room as quick as I could.

I don’t know what exactly made me start crying, I mean I’ve cried every night this week so maybe it’s just the overwhelming feelings again, but I think it was Peter. I don’t want to have to pull away from my best friend, I just wish I loved him the way I was supposed to. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, it just makes me feel gross.

I end up hiding out until they leave, then I return to the kitchen for some hot cocoa and comfort food. I calm down a bit, but I’m still a little teary eyed when I pass out on the couch. I don’t know how long I get to sleep for, but what ends up waking me up is the front door opening. I peer through groggy sleepy eyes, expecting to find Betty, ready to scold me for not going to bed.

What I didn’t expect was Peter.

He bent down beside me and set a hand on my cheek, “Wake up sleepy head, I know this couch isn’t that comfortable.”

“Hey,” I yawn before rolling onto my back, I push my arms up in an attempt to push the sleepiness out of my body, “Where is everyone?”

“Betty is back at mine and Ned’s, I came by just to talk to you, but it can wait,” he smiles and offers me a hand, “Come on bunny, I’ll take you to bed.”

I shake my head, “I’m up, what did you want to talk about?”

He blushes, “Let me help you to bed first.”

“I’m a big girl Peter, I can put myself to bed. What’s on your mind?”

He sits besides me with a sigh, “It wanted to make sure you’re okay, you’ve just seemed a little off this week.”

“It’s just allergies P, I’ll feel better in no time.”

“I don’t think so,” he frowns, “I don’t think allergies forget how to talk to your best friend.”

“I didn't, I just don’t feel very good.”

“Are you sure? You know you can tell me if you’re upset with me or something…”

I laugh, “Peter why would I be upset with you?”

“I don’t know, you’ve just seemed off every time I’ve seen you this week.”

“Well it’s not you Peter, I just don’t feel very good. If I were upset with you I would just tell you.”

“Okay,” he accepts my answer though he doesn’t seem totally satisfied by it. Who am I kidding? It’s Peter, he always knows when something’s up. “You know I’m always here for you right?”

I nod, “I’m here for you too Peter.”

He wraps an arm around my neck and kisses the top of my head, “We could hang out for a little while, play some games or something.”

“I’m still pretty tired, I think I’m just gonna go to bed,” I blush as I stand, “Maybe some other time.”

His smile falls but he nods, “Okay, but it has to be soon. I miss hanging out.”

“Soon,” I agree, “I miss it too.”

He stands and pulls me into a hug, placing another kiss on the top of my head, “I’m sorry about whatever’s going on, you know I love you tons.”

It takes every ounce of my willpower not to burst into tears, to not break down and just tell him the truth. I can’t though, I know I can’t. It’s not his fault he doesn’t love me the way that would fix everything, he loves someone else and I want that for him, even if it makes me jealous, even if it kills me. I just want Peter to be happy.

“I love you too.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

This morning Betty nearly caught me tossing a petal out the window, making it very clear that I’ll have to tell her soon. I’d much rather tell her than have her just find out, I just don’t know how. I think I should just sit her down and tell her, but I just want to sugar coat it somehow, make it seem better than it is. I’m trying to figure out some way to do that when I get called up to the pharmacy counter. I barely even realize I know the girl behind the counter this time. Adeline, MJ’s roommate.

“Oh hey,” she smiles to me, “Are you okay with me filling your prescription? I can totally grab someone else.”

I know she’ll know if I let her fill the prescription, it’s a little scary, but there’s enough separation between us that it feels okay, like a warm up.

“I don’t mind,” I smile back, “Just don’t tell everyone about the pills I’m popping.”

She laughs, “I’ll keep it to myself,” she turns to her computer, typing away before squinting at the screen, then it seems to hit her, “(y/n)...” she turns to me with a frown, “Do you?...”

I nod, “Yeah, but like I said, don’t tell anyone.”

“Of course,” she pursed her lips, “I’ll be right back.”

It was worse than I thought, Adeline and I aren’t super close, we get along, but we never hang out outside of group get togethers or parties. I didn’t expect her to look so upset or concerned, I thought she’d just tell me she was sorry, that she hoped I got better. It makes me scared of how everyone else is going to react.

“Here you go,” she frowned as she passed the little white bag to me, “You haven’t told anyone?”

I shake my head, “Not yet.”

“Really? Not even Betty, o-or Peter?”

“No one, I’m going to, just kind of figuring out how.”

She nods, “Yeah, I can’t imagine. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m gonna get better, it’s just a little scary for now.”

“Of course,” she smiles, but it’s one of those sad smiles I have a hard time looking at, “I, um, if there’s anything I can do just let me know. I could help you tell everyone,” she blushed suddenly, “When you’re ready of course. Just, uh, maybe it’d be easier to get it out of the way all at once you know?”

“Thank you.” It’s not a bad idea actually, maybe it would be easier than telling everyone individually. Then I just have to explain it once and answer all the questions once. I don’t have to answer all the questions over and over. It might balance out the reactions too. “That might be nicer actually, and you could probably help explain the medical stuff a bit more.”

She nodded, “Yeah, definitely, I mean do it however you need to, but if I can help in any way just let me know.”

“Thanks Adeline, I’ll think about it,” I give her an awkward little wave as I walk away.

I start making a pros and cons list in mind, weighing both of my options to try and figure out the best way to go about this, of course my thoughts are then interrupted by a phone call. Peter.

He’s been trying to get together, and this time I really have been avoiding him, following the advice of my therapist. I don’t know if it’s helping, I think about him just as much, the thoughts are just sadder now, but it’s what I have to do. My therapist knows how to get me better, and I have to get better or I’ll never get to see him, or anyone. It would be so much easier if I could just tell him that, I hate lying to him.

“Hello?”

“Hey bunny,” he sounds chipper as ever, “How are you?”

“Good, how are you?”

“Well I’m okay right now, but I would be a thousand times better if you came over and helped me study?”

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” I glance around me, trying to think of something, “I have to go grocery shopping.”

“How about I come help you then?”

“I thought you needed to study?”

“I do but,” he pauses for a minute, “I know you said you aren’t avoiding me, but you know it went from not talking as much to suddenly we haven’t even seen each other in days.”

“Well why do we need to hang out all the time anyway? Just go hang out with MJ.”

I don’t mean to sound as angry as I do, I’m just so frustrated. It’s not easy keeping this all to myself.

He stays quiet and then sighs. “You’ve been acting weird since you went to the doctor, I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on. I’m worried about you.”

“Nothing’s going on Peter,” I frown and wrap an arm around myself, “I’m just busy today alright?”

“You’re busy everyday.”

“I’m not, I’m just busy right now…” I sigh and hang up, I just don’t really know what to say to him.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

After my awkward phone call with Peter I decided it would be best for me to tell everyone at once. I just need to get it out of the way, rip the bandaid off. So I texted Adeline, and she proposed that she and MJ would have everyone at their place to hang out today. She said it was gonna just be dinner and some party games, and everyone agreed to go. I told Betty and Ned I’d meet them there so I’d have a bit of alone time to get ready. I wanted just a bit alone just to prepare what I’m going to say and everything, I want this to go well. I want to walk into therapy tomorrow and tell her all about how I told my friends and I have this amazing support system.

A coughing fit interrupts my attempt to hype myself up in the mirror, it’s much more violent than they have been. The petals tickle a bit, and there’s usually a bit of blood, but it’s never like this. As a bit of blood splatters in the sink I hear what I assume is Betty coming back to retrieve some forgotten item. I kick the bathroom door closed and hope she just ignores me. Instead the door almost instantly starts creaking open.

“I’m fine!” I lean over the sink, trying to cover it with my hair, “Just give me a second!” I choke on my words.

The hand that’s set on my back is distinctly not Betty’s, “Jesus Christ are yo-” Peter stops mid sentence, just as the full flower falls out of my mouth, followed by a streak of blood. The full ones are much harder to cough up than the petals.

“I’m fine,” I quickly try to think of someway to explain this, “That was just in my hai-”

He seizes my wrist as I attempt to turn on the sink and wash away the evidence, “Did you cough up that flower?”

I flush, “Did you break into my house?”

“Betty gave me her keys so I could pick you up and figure out why you’ve been avoiding me! Now tell me what the hell is going on!” he demanded in the most concerned, Peter-like way he possibly could.

I take a deep breath, glancing at the mess in the sink before I finally answer, “I have Hanahaki’s disease.”

His eyes dart between me and the sink, seeming to debate his next words carefully, “How long have you known?”

“About two weeks.”

“Were you even going to tell me?”

I nodded, “I was going to tell everyone tonight.”

He dropped my wrist and pushed a hand through his hair, I couldn’t even look him in the eyes, “W-Well it’s not that bad right? I mean there’s surgery, a-and I’m sure if you just talk to him he probably feels the same way.”

“He’s with someone else Peter, he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t also love you.” When I finally did meet his eyes they were glossy, and his cheeks were red.

“He doesn’t Peter, I just have to move on.”

“I’m sure he does, just tell me who and we ca-”

“I’m not telling you who he is. This isn’t his fault and I don’t want anyone to blame him or make him feel bad about it.”

“It is his fault!” he snapped before sighing, “Okay fine, you don’t want to talk to him, but there’s still surgery right? I know surgery is scary but this one’s pretty safe isn’t it?”

I nod, “It is, but there’s the risk of me not being able to love anyone again, so I’m not getting the surgery.”

“What?”

“I’m not getting the surgery, I’m just going to have to move on.”

“Okay but if that doesn’t work you’re going to get the surgery right?”

My cheeks dust pink as I shake my head, “No.”

His jaw is locked, his whole body tense, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that angry. “You have to get it.”

“I’m not getting the surgery Peter, but you don’t need to worry about me, I’m gonna move on and get better.”

“Are you kidding me?!” he snaps, “Telling me you’ll get better isn’t good enough! I understand if you want to try and move on first, but if that doesn’t work then you’re getting that surgery.”

“I’m not getting it at all Peter.”

“So you’re just going to die?!” his bottom lip started quivering, it startled me, I didn’t expect anyone to cry, “I’m not going to lose you just because some asshole doesn’t love you back! It’s not fair and I’m not letting it happen!”

“It’s not your choice Peter,” I hug myself because I have no idea what else to do, “Nothing is going to happen to me, I’ll be able to move on and I’ll be just fine. But, if for some reason that doesn’t happen, I really need you to respect my decision on this.”

A couple tears fell down his cheeks and he shook his head, “You cannot ask me to just sit back and watch you die.”

“I’m not, Peter I am going to be fine. I’m on medication that helps slow it down, and I’m seeing a therapist who specializes in Hanahaki’s, she’ll help me move on and I’ll be okay.”

“That isn’t good enough. There’s no guarantee you get better that way and that isn’t good enough for me.”

“I’m sorry Peter, but I can’t give you any other answers. I’m not getting the surgery, even if that kills me. I know that isn’t what you want to hear, and I’m so sorry, but that’s all I can give you.”

A few more tears escape and he pulls me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around his neck and went to my waist. We stay that way for a second, he rests his head atop mine while I wonder what to do. I don’t really know how to make him feel better, I don’t even know if I can.

Peter is the one to finally break the silence. “Who is he?”

“It’s not important Peter.” “Yes it is! You think he’s worth dying over!” his voice cracks and I pull away. It’s really hard to see him cry, and I can feel my own eyes starting to sting at the sight. “You won’t even reconsider it for your best friend so I wanna know what’s so fucking great about him.”

I start crying while I realize I can’t ever tell anyone it’s him. I can’t risk Peter finding out, I don’t ever want to put that on him. “It’s not about who he is Peter, I just don’t want to risk never falling in love with anyone ever again. I know some people are okay with that, but I’m not, love is important to me and I don’t think I’d ever be totally happy knowing I couldn’t have that. None of this is on him, he’s a really great guy, I love him a lot and I know you would to. I don’t want anyone to blame him or be upset with him or anything.”

“Well I hate him,” he snapped, “And it doesn’t matter what you say about him. My mind is made up and I think he’s a dick.”

“You can feel however you need Peter, but he’s a good person, the best I know,” I wiped his eyes, “Can you please keep this just between us for me? I really need to tell everyone on my own terms.”

“I won’t say anything,” he promised before pulling me to him again, “Do you think we could just ditch tonight? I really want to talk, just us, and I want to know what’s going on. I need to be able to help however I can.”

I nodded, “Yeah, I can make something up.”

He nuzzled his nose against the top of my head before pressing a kiss to the same spot, “Thank you.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I ended up texting Adeline, who assured me she’d cover for us so we didn’t have to stress out about it. Peter watched my every move while I washed the blood out of the sink and threw the flower out of my bedroom window. Luck for me, he didn’t notice what kind of flower it was, or at least he didn’t comment on it. Actually he just sat on the edge of my bed, honestly I think he was just too caught up in his own thoughts to actually process what was going on.

“So, did you have some questions?” I asked as I closed my window and took a seat besides him. He nodded, “Yeah, a few. Do you have some kind of timeline of how it’s going to progress?”

“Well the medicine I’m taking will slow everything down, right now it seems like mine is slow moving and my doctor thinks I’ll have a few months, but it’s really unpredictable. Things could get worse very quickly, but she said that’s pretty unlikely in my case. The coughing will get worse and there will be a lot more flowers and blood, but physically I’ll be pretty okay until the end. As for healing, I have until pretty much the last moments for my feelings to be reciprocated or to move on.”

“What about the surgery?”

“They’re able to perform it until the infection moves outside of my lungs. If I get to that point they’ll hospitalize me, but it won’t get to that point.”

“How long would you have if it did?”

“A few days max, I mean they’ll do everything they can to keep me going as long as possible, but there isn’t much they can do at that point.”

He clenched his hands and gave one stiff nod, “You said your therapist specializes in this?”

“Yeah, and she’s really great, she’s going to help me move on and sort out my feelings and all that. She does a lot of work with patients and their families, and she’s got a really good reputation. I really like her so far.”

“Do you think it’s helping so far?” “Well I’ve only gone once so far, but I feel like I can do this. You can look her up if you want, her name is Raina Morrison.”

“I will,” he assured before taking my hands in his, “Are you going to see her again soon?”

“Yeah, tomorrow actually. That’s why I wanted to tell everyone tonight.” He blushed, “I mean it’s still good you told someone right?”

I nodded, “I think so. It was just a little more overwhelming than I thought it would be.”

I’m a little nervous about seeing her now, I’m worried that telling Peter wasn’t good. She told me separation was a good thing, that it will help me move on, I’m worried I won’t be able to do that now. Peter’s really protective, he cares a lot about everyone, I really love that about him, and I don’t know if I have the heart to tell him that we can’t spend time together. I don’t even know what explanation to give him now.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have freaked out on you like that. I’m sure it’s not good for you.”

“It’s okay, having you guys know will be better for me, I need to have my friends support in this, it’ll make everything easier.”

“Maybe we can just love you enough that he won’t matter anymore,” the smile he gives is weak and forced, he still looks like he might cry again.

I don’t know what to say to make him feel better. I know he loves me plenty, it’s just not the right kind of love.

“Thank you Peter,” I just ended up hugging him again.

He held me tight against his chest, “If you wanted I could help you talk to everyone, even if you end up doing it one on one. Maybe it would be easier to have me there.”

“It’d be nice to have you there,” I pulled away to keep from crying again, “You, uh, you’ll get it now if I’m a little evasive right?”

A look of confusion overcame his face, “No. What reason could you possibly have to avoid me now?” his bottom lip started quivering again, “You might not… No, I won’t get it, we should be spending every second together that we can.”

“I need alone time to process my feelings, that’s how I’ll get better.”

“Then I won’t say anything!” his cheeks had flushed again in an instant, “I can sit there and be quiet and do nothing, but I need to be there for you. I need to spend as much time with you as I can…”

“Peter you don’t need to start savoring your time with me or make all these precious memories or anything like that. I’m gonna get better,” I squeezed his hands tight and smiled to him, “And it would help a lot if you believed that too, because right now it kind of seems like you’ve already decided I’m going to die.”

“I do believe that, I know you’ll get better,” he sighed, “B-But what if something happens? What if you’re all alone and you just need someone? I should be here, I want to be here.”

How was I ever supposed to argue with that? I can’t tell him he can’t be here for me, I don’t want to tell him he can’t.

“Maybe we should watch a movie or something before we start crying again?”

He nodded and cleared his throat, “Good idea. Maybe something funny?”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

We threw on some supposedly funny movie, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I don’t know if Peter was, but he seemed out of it too. We just sort of stared at the screen until everyone came back to my place. I had to get up from where I was laying with Peter and pretend I had food poisoning as Adeline told them. Really I just wanted to go to bed, the day had been extremely draining.

“Hey guys,” I smiled at them, doing my best to look sickly.

Betty smiled sympathetically to me, “Hey, you feeling any better?”

I nod, “Yeah, I threw up a bit but I think I can just sleep it off. Don’t worry, Peter has babied me plenty.”

“Well between that and the cough I think you need a little babying,” she wiggled a small container at me, “I brought you left overs for when you feel better.”

“I brought some for you too,” MJ added, flashing Peter a smile, “There in the car.”

“Thanks,” his cheeks dusted pink and I just prayed he wouldn’t give anything away, “I think I’m gonna stay with (y/n) tonight though, just in case she gets worse.”

“I’m sure she’s had enough of you hovering for one night Peter,” her smile dropped almost instantly, “I thought we were hanging out.”

I wonder if they’ve been fighting or something. A wave of guilt washes over me for avoiding Peter, for not asking if there was something he needed to talk about too.

“We were together last night,” he frowned at her, “You know (y/n) and I haven’t hung out in awhile, and she’s sick, I should stay with her.”

“You two hung out all night and I’m sure her best friend and roommate is more than capable of making sure she doesn’t die in the middle of the night.”

Peter’s jaw clenches and I interject in the fear they may start arguing if I don’t, “Yeah, I mean thank you for taking care of me, but I’ll be fine. I’m probably just going to go to bed anyway, you should go hang out with MJ.”

His cheeks dusted pink and he nodded, “O-Okay, just as long as you're good…”

“I’m good,” I assured, “It’s been a long night, I really just want to get some sleep.”

MJ smiled, “See? You’re driving her crazy, just let the girl get some sleep.”

“I’m just taking care of her,” he snapped.

We were all quiet, Peter and MJ are always so mellow. I mean they act like they’ve been married for forty years, they don’t really fight. As long as I’ve known them they’ve just been…

Stagnant I guess.

“Well she just said she doesn’t need to be taken care of so no need to smother her, right (y/n)?”

I just nod, “Yeah, I’m good. Peter go hang out with girlfriend, I don’t need to be babysat.”

He frowned, a small huff left his lips before he nodded, “Sure, whatever, let’s just go,” he gave me an awkward sort of side hug and called, “Text me!” before leaving with MJ, both seeming annoyed with the other.

Part 2

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helpinghanikan · 4 years

Text

Sleeping arrangements

Avengers (and Matt Murdock x Reader)

Sum: It's late and the bed is so nice. It's time to sleep and to bring your heroes along with you. (Fluffy little snippets of sleepy time with the Avengers)

Steve Rogers:

It’s the last train home and only one thing in this world is warm. The wall of Steve Rogers your head rested against was beating softly through the jacket and shirt he wore. Keeping your arms around his center to keep any of the heat from getting away. His own arm protects around your shoulders, keeping you in and gibing his hand something to do instead.

He could’ve driven, he should’ve driven, instead he wanted to take the train. He wanted to walk around like he did years and years before, but this time with your hands intertwined.

Although far away the train has started to shake the earth. Taking you out of the almost sleeping world and back into this cold one. The change in worlds brings out a yawn and lets the cold back in. It’s been a long day. With your eyes closed and clothes heavier than they could ever be Steve was the only thing keeping you up. His chin rests on your head after a while, thumb rubbing over your shoulder as the train finally pulled to a stop.

Inside it was the same story but in a seated position. Guided into his lap and landing with a groan as it was just so much work. The practically empty strain allowed your legs to stretched straight out over the seats.

Steve could stay awake longer than most, but he was tired. He was cold and annoyed and really wished he had driven instead of taking this stupid train. He took his frustration out on squeezing you tight, holding on as if you were liable to fall right out of the seat if he let go. At least it was warmer inside the train.

Tony Stark:

Someone staying up late, not getting enough sleep, and making exhaustion their personality trait is funny for maybe week. But After days of trying to coax him to come to bed, to try something other than just giving up on sleep or even talking to a doctor it gets concerning. After weeks of these same issues, it becomes frustrating.

Everyone, from Pepper to Peter have done their fair share of lecturing. Happy has gone out of his way in helping you get the dumbass to appointments. All of which he has walked right out because, unfortunately, he was still an adult who could make his own decisions.

It’s only after using the nuclear word that he pays attention.

“Anthony,” You say just before he leaves the room.

Although speaking to his back he does stop. His shoulders have tensed under the t-shirt and he’s listening in.

There’s an audio book’s worth of things you could say about this issue. But it would all be a repeat that he’s heard before, from many different mouths. Instead, you kept it simple, not even bothering to turn on the light.

“You didn’t even try.” It comes out from a tired partner just wanting the best for him. Yet Tony walks away from the advice, again.

Thor:

Power doesn’t stop for sleep. It’s still in the air when he’s laying sideways towards the window. Because of the whole nighttime thing it’s hard to tell if clouds are actually coming in or darkening. Maybe you’re just insane but Mr. Weatherman didn’t say anything about rain tonight, right?

It was a jolt that really woke you up. Looking over your shoulder at the expanse of muscular back. Thor movements were always a bit too…loud for this world. Whether running through a fight or moving in his sleep it calls attention to everyone. He doesn’t mean to, but it does wake you up enough to see your glass is dryer as a bone.

As if reading your mind, the rain has come down. It could almost be described as torrential how hard it was all coming down. Matching the dramatics of rain, a lightning strike coming straight down into some poor tree.

This wasn’t the first time Thor had a nightmare. Asgardians just seemed to be humans 2.0, making Thor just as a victim to horror as we humans are. At the same time, he was still another worldly being, translating to giving him a few feet when waking him up.

Another strike of lightening and another tree is taken out of this world. Without the lights on that blast was your only moment of lightening. The rest of the journey made to Thor’s side of the bed was done in darkness and pounding rain. Following the outlined Asgardian until reaching his shoulder. A gentle hand on his should does nothing. A little shake and a whispered “Thor,” finally does the trick.

The two strikes of lightening outside somehow reached his eyes. For the briefest of seconds blue, cracking energy is directed right at you. Stopping just as quickly as they appeared, replaced with Thor’s regular blue eyes that blink a few times.

“What is it?” he asks.

There’s no point in telling him the truth about his nightmares and their effect. Then again, there’s no point in lying either. Instead, it’s better to distract. “It’s still super early. Back to bed.” You say instead, kissing with until he takes the hit and holds you.

Bucky Barnes:

Sleep is a luxury that isn’t worth chasing. With the pillows and sheets there were nightmares and enemies that could sense his weakness. Trying to get at least six hours and all that guarantees is waking up sweaty and a call to doc, making sure to get everything back in order before you could ever notice.

Instead, he takes walks. Maps out the city at night, the changes and differences that happened without him. He recognizes the buildings, the structures and bricks that were too strong to be a victim to time.

Most of the time he does this alone. Watching a show about nothing until you were asleep before starting his walk. But there were times you catch him, calling out to him like the neighborhood cat trying to get away. Getting on your own shoes and jacket quickly. Then enforcing the handholding during the little adventure.

It’s only when passing by something important that words are shared. “One of my buddies worked here when this place was a mechanic. Broke his leg just before the draft, I still think it was on purpose.” He’d say then never bring it up again.

These walks are always shorter than most. After two times Bucky learned when to make the loop back home with you. When your building comes back into view the handholding has gotten sweaty. The walking had slowed to a crawl and you were dragging him down by the arm. Even less talking was done after getting through the door; just landing face down onto the bed without bothering about the shoes.

These kind of walks were Bucky’ favorite.

Natasha Romanoff:

The bed was used almost exclusively for sleeping. As the couch was both comfy and expensive. And, as Nat puts it, “Should we do it with the lights off too? Under the covers like grandparents?” Although it was probably another reason to use the overpriced couch more often.

Like any good, and overworked, soldier Nat could sleep anywhere. When a mission is done, and there’s nothing to worry about, a shower and a nap is the best in the world.

“I smell nice,” She says walking into the living after the shower. Steam still behind her, hair wrapped up and a sweater purposefully bought to be several sizes too big.

She stretches and lays over you like a cat. Resting as close as possible so you, too, can smell the expensive shampoo she uses. Making sure that the body wash isn’t ignored either as that, too, was expensive.

“Might as well spend this pay on something,” She says when asked about the prices.

Although she asks what you’re up to she won’t be awake for the answer. Already teetering into sleep land when you answer.

Natasha was as athletic as she was heavy. Only sometimes managing to carry her bridal style and most of the time having to walk/guide her into the bedroom. Either letting her drop onto the bed with the same weight you had carried in, or she holds fast and takes you down with her.

Just like a cat, Natasha gets to decide cuddle time.

T’challa:

Although the mattress was new, the bed’s size was traditional, and passed on through generations of rulers. Forget California king bed, A Wakanda king bed was that and a half. Ten feet length, twelve feet tall. Combined with blankets, pillows and more it was easy to disappear into the thing. But it was also easy to get lost in it all.

In the middle of the night, in the very center of this ocean of bed, you can reach out forever. Finding pillows (both the decorative and the usable kind), smaller blankets or stuffed animals that have managed to be added. But it’s a tiresome journey, one that doesn’t seem to have an end even as you stretched to pointed toes and fingers.

It’s only after touching body heat that you can relax. Finally finding your king that turns to your touch. Making his own journey through sheets and bedding. Using you as the trail into his love. Neither of you thinking about the absolute nightmare it will be to make this bed tomorrow.

Pietro Maximoff:

For most of his life Pietro is moving. Be it running or just running his mouth, he’s not the kind of guy to sit still. Unfortunately, this also applies to sleeping.

“He’s been sleep walking since we were children,” Wanda once said. “Our father once found him crying in a puddle. He had slipped and woken up in the street. He’ll deny crying, though.”

As an adult Pietro doesn’t actively get up and walk around anymore. The man made up of strong and lean muscle still moves quite a bit. Waking up from freezing feet finding yours or because he’s sat upright in bed again. Using soft, but firm, pressure to get him to lay back down or to guide him back to his side of the bed. If you weren’t careful his arms would find you, almost dragging you back to his side of the bed.

He'd deny it in the morning. Smiling with barely open eyes as you’re still pressed against him. No matter how much you’re going to insist this was his fault he’d still mock you. Nuzzling in since you insist on cuddling so much.

Peter Parker:

There’s a time limit next when sitting next to Peter. You have ten minutes before his head finds your shoulder. If you don’t shrug or lean away he’ll stay there, slowly leaning in until he’s all settled.

Although not completely asleep he does rest. If your hands are held in those moments you could probably feel his pulse slow down as his breathing slows. Maybe his eyes manage to stay open, but his eyes do get heavy. Someone could say his name, and he’d respond, but it be from his throat. An annoyed groan directed to whoever was ruining this moment. Even if it was usually a teacher or adult.

It’s only when traveling, and you’re sitting for a while, that he completely falls asleep. Progressing past just leaning his head and adding his arms. If you allow him, putting an arm around your back and the other over your center. With your own arm over his back, he sleeps in a position that, although sweet, always left a pain in his neck. Something he’d complain about until you ask if he want’s you to rub his shoulders.

Stephen Strange:

During aura projection Stephen’s body is dead weight. No muscles or bone working with the individual trying to help them. It’s just taken over by gravity and his entire weight wants to be on the floor. Sleep does the same thing.

Short of a bucket of water to his face he won’t wake up. Part of his experience in med school was taking every bit of use sleep could give him. Which leads to sleeping fast, and sleeping hard, usually opened mouth. No snoring yet, but the moment he does there’s an open target for shutting him up.

Matt Murdock:

It’s a mixture of meditation and caffeine that he is still functioning. Too busy, much too busy, as a lawyer for the two of you to share a bed most of the time. Making any comments you have about his sleep schedule mute.

Watching him doesn’t change give any information either. Coffee in the morning, some deep breathing and self-centering in the between moments at work, and sleep ins on days off were all you could gather. Between that it’s easier to just assume he’s fine.

Just laugh at his “not like I need to rest my eyes,” jokes and move on.

Carol Danvers:

After going through every time change known to man, alien and beyond Carol has developed a very specific still. Carol Danvers, woman with the power of a star and to sleep literally anywhere at any time. Be it a cleared-out corner of some ship, an open floor that keeps her hidden from passersby or on your lap. The latter being her personal favorite.

Like a massive golden retriever, she wants to be in the middle of your lap. Close as possible with a arm holding around your shoulder and the other on her toy, or phone. A being of wiry muscle and heat keeping you pinned to the couch. Most of the time she’s out ten minutes into the movie, most of the time the remotes’ out of reach, and most of the time you gotta go pee.

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kaiparker-avengerssmut · 4 years

Text

Their Doll 18

Hickies and Dinners

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 and Bucky attempt to spend some time with the avengers

Warnings: swearing, implied smut, mentions of hickies, Steve being a complete dickhead

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

After another morning spent in bed; kissing, touching, fucking- you get the gist, we decided to head downstairs for a few hours to see the rest of the team. As much as I'd like to avoid Steve Tony and Peter, Bucky convinced me that I needed to spend time with someone that wasn't him, like Nat or Thor. So I agreed with a little bit of persuasion, if you'd like to call it that.

We walked through the corridors, neglecting to hold hands as we didn't want to boast or anything in case we came across steve - after all, we both still cared about him and I hated the broken look on his face when he'd seen us together. We chatted mindlessly, not really about anything until we reached the door to the common room.

Heading inside, I perched myself on a barstool by the breakfast bar that separated the living room area from the kitchen, whilst Bucky leant against the counter the other side - hands flat against the cool marble.

"Hey guys." Clint greeted from where him and Nat sat on the sofa a feet feet away, Nat reaching forward for the remote and turning down the show they were watching slightly.

"Hey." I smiled back, along with Bucky.

"I feel like we haven't seen you guys in ages," Nat chimed in, sinking back into the cushioned sofa with a little smirk. "Could it be a coincidence?" She said smugly. We hadn't officially become a couple, so Steve must've said something to the rest of the team.

It was that moment the steve and Peter walked in, Peter apparently trying to teach steve some kind of slang.

"Hey Stevie." Bucky said with a tight smile, nodding towards his best friend. Steve froze momentarily, before returning the tight smile.

"Hey Buck." He mumbled, before brushing last us and into the kitchen to grab a drink. The drone of the coffee machine filled the awkward silence until Peter stepped in.

"What's that?" Peter frowned at me, finger lifted and pointed towards my neck.

"What?" I asked, confused and glancing behind me to bucky, who simply shrugged but his sly smile told me otherwise.

"On your neck." Clint added, eyes squinted as they stared at my throat, Nat's attention bow drawn too. I gasped, promising myself to hit Bucky as hard as I could when we got back to my room later as my hand shot up to cover the deep purple bruise on my neck.

"It's nothing, just a burn." I dismissed quickly, glaring at Nat as she raised a brow.

"A burn? From what?" Peter persisted, folding his arms over his chest.

"My curling iron." I quickly waved off, fingering with the hem of my shirt.

"But your hair is straight." Nat inquired, and I gave her a look.

"What are we all hammering my daughter about?" Tony pondered aloud as he sauntered in, refusing to meet my eyes. I rolled mine, holding back a scoff. It was the first time I'd seen him since that night and I felt like a whole in my chest had been ripped open.

"Y/n has a hickey." Peter smirked, and Tony's eyes widened as he wheeled round to stare at me.

"Who the hell gave you a hickey?" Tony almost spat, knowing full well by that avoided gazes and awkward coughs that me and Steve still weren't on speaking terms. Bucky spotted a wolffish grin, holding back a chuckle and all attention was drawn to him. "Something funny, Barnes?" Tony asked, hands on his hips.

"I think we just found the curling iron." Nat smirked, bucky letting out his chuckle.

"Seriously Barnes?" Tony seethed, face almost as red as mine as he glared the super soldier down.

"Someone's in trouble." Clint sung, too smug to care about my embarrassment.

"Dad, it's nothing." I tried, but everyone seemed to forget what they were going to say when the door slammed shut.

"Did Steve just-?" Peter started.

"Leave? I think so." Nat said, all smirks diminished now as the tension rose.

"C'mon, doll." Bucky supplied with a smile smile, "how 'bout I take you out for lunch?" He offered, holding out his hand which I gladly took.

...

Dinner that night was...awkward, to say the least. Clint had insisted that Bucky and y/n join them all for dinner, minus Tony and Pepper as they were having a date night.

He'd convinced them by telling y/n that the whole team missed her and just wanted to see her happy, and that's what Bucky seemed to make her. Y/n had finally accepted with a long, begrudging sigh and told the marksman that they'd be down for seven.

That's how they'd found themselves where they were now, Bucky's arm secure around her waist as him and y/n walked their way down to dinner. They'd kept it simple, both still in sweats and y/n in a stolen t-shirt of Bucky's, with the super-soldier's hair pulled back into a low ponytail - a few wispy framing pieces fallen out around his soft face.

"It'll be fine, Doll." Bucky murmured in her ear as they exited the elevator, lips soft against her hair as he placed a quick, reassuring kiss there. Y/n huffed a sigh, giving her boyfriend a Curt nod before they were entering the kitchen.

"There they are!" Nat called, smile wide as she beckoned the couple over. But y/n stopped in her tracks as they rounded the corner, the sight of Steve cuddled up with some...blonde the other side of the table making her heart sink. Bucky sensed it immediately, ever so patient with her feelings, and tightened his grip on her waist, giving her a little squeeze before leading her to side at the opposite end of the table with Nat and Thor.

"Hey y/n, hey Sarge, how are you?" Nat greeted with a smile as they took a seat, y/n's eyes seemingly glued to the other end of the obnoxiously long table.

"F-fine." Y/n mumbled, completely disengaged. Nat and Bucky both sighed, Bucky putting on a boyish grin before replying himself.

"I'm good, thanks. Evening, Thor." The super soldier smiled, and Thor bid him a good evening too. The conversation seemed to flow for a moment, the three avengers exchanging pleasantries as y/n watched Steve. After a while bucky got fed up, deciding to do something about it himself.

"Hey Steve, who's the pretty girl?" Bucky smirked, calling out over y/n's head. Bruce and Steve looked their way, along with the blonde girl clinging to Steve.

"Oh, hey Buck." Steve said with a clearly forced smile. He looked down at the girl, placing his hand over her's on the table. "This is Sharon, an agent here." He introduced.

"Well it's lovely to meet you-"

"Now I'd love to know how you found a whore so quickly after dumping me." Y/n mused, elbow perched on the table as she sipped her drink. Steve's face dropped, and Sharon frowned.

"I'm sorry?" Her soft voice pondered, question in her tone.

"Oh, well since Steve only broke up with me a couple days ago, seemingly heartbroken, I was wondering where he found you." Y/n clarified, that Stark sass finally showing through. Awkward glances were exchanged.

"You must be y/n Stark. I've heard a lot about you." Sharon finally pieces together, met with a nod from y/n.

"Nothing good, I assume." She bit back.

"No, you're right. Just how you decided to fuck Steve's best friend." Sharon laughed without humour, both women completely unaware of their glowering boyfriend's behind them.

"So when did you met this one, hm? Was it while I was being tortured for weeks on end for information about you and your little club that I failed to tell them, huh?" Y/n asked almost mockingly, eyes locked on steve now. He cleared his throat, a shattered loom crossing his deep, blue eyes as he looked away.

"Doll-" Bucky started.

"You know, you might not believe this, but not everyone utilises their trauma because not everyone is like y/n Stark." Sharon clipped, voice chirpily snippy.

"Not everyone can be." Y/n cut back with a smile, fake as can be.

"That's Stark'a daughter, alright." Thor chuckled.

"That's my girl." Bucky smirked, giving y/n a chaste kiss when she turned to face him. Sharon rolled her eyes as she scoffed, turning back to Steve as they murmured quietly. Bucky looped his arm around y/n's shoulder, pulling her into his side and pressing a lingering kiss to her temple. Nat winked at her and Thor grinned boyishly.

"So how's the hickey, y/n?" Nat prompted, popping apiece of bread in her mouth. Y/n's eyes widened and Bucky smirked, as Nat had spoken extra loud so Sharon and Steve had looked over again.

"It's fine." Y/n mumbled quietly, pushing her food around her plate and resting her hand over her neck to hide the bruise. Bucky hated the dark, jealousy-clouded glare that Steve was shooting them - desperate for his best friend back.

All the tension was driving him mad. After years of not being able to see Steve, he fucked up their friendship the first night he was back. Well done Bucky, he thought with a glum puff of air.

Sparing a glance to Sharon and Steve, Bucky almost felt as if he was intruding as he looked on as Steve nipped and sucked at the girl's neck playfully, Sharon's flirtatious giggled wafting over. The super soldier barely realise how tight he was gripping his knife and fork until Thor snapped his fingers in front of Bucky's face, before repeating a question about how he was finding life in the Tower.

Bucky's jaw had been clenched so hard it nearly hurt, his eyes a deep blue that was filled with anger as he watched steve and Sharon. At least him and y/n were being subtle and not showing off, but what Steve was doing was clearly trying to get to y/n somehow, and it was working.

Her eyes were burning with a glare, jaw tensed and attention divided between the people in front of her and the sight the other end of the table. Bucky huffed out an exasperated sigh and leant back in his chair, stretching his arm over the top of y/n's head before resting it along the back of her seat, trying his hardest to focus on what Thor was saying now.

144 notes · View notes

starkerforlife6969 · 4 years

Text

Starker - Gone

tw angst, mentions of drinking- but a happy ending.

It’s done.

It’s finished.

Tony realises it a little suddenly. Feels cold and hollow all over. Riddled.

Dusk has just gone, and the fresh darkness seeps in through the windows. The penthouse is empty. It’s just him and his perfect furniture and his state of the art, pioneering technology.

Peter’s gone.

Of course, he’s been gone for months now. Shuffled out, head held irritatingly high, face drawn tight, stuff in boxes, and stayed with his aunt.

Whatever, Tony thinks bitterly, the kid’s 300 million dollars better off, he’ll buy a nice beach house somewhere and Tony will never see him again.

Mr. Wobbles, the fucking awful cat, is gone too. He was Peter’s Tony had realised, even as he’d argued for it over the glass table.

“Yours!” Peter had screeched, making the lawyers on both sides wince. Making Tony smirk victoriously, finally, at having gotten a reaction. “I adopted him, Tony. Me. My name is on all the papers, you- you hate him! You never feed him, or play with him, or give him treats, Mr Wobbles is mine!”

“Tony,” Peggy Carter, his (very expensive) lawyer, had touched his arm and said quietly, “it’s a cat. Do you really want the responsibility?”

Tony had slunk back into the leather seat. Shrugged and looked away like he didn’t care if the cat lived or died.

He does care, is the thing.

He looks over to the kitchen, down by the side of the fridge, where the ceramic blue food bowl used to lie.

It’s bare now.

He remembers, as he loosens his tie, takes off his armour, how Peter had looked the first time with the kitten in his arms. Brown eyes glistening and lips so pink and stained with the strawberries from breakfast.

“Tony! Please, I promise, I’ll take care of him-”

“Sweetheart,” Tony had chuckled, dragging Peter in for a kiss, “it’s your home too. Have the little monster. You don’t need permission. It’s yours.” Peter had beamed, lifted Mr Wobbles up close to Tony’s face (the creature had tried to blind him) and said “He’s ours.”

Even now, the thought makes him smile. Crooked. Sad.

Hollow, again.

That’s how the penthouse feels.

Pepper’s done an excellent job. He hadn’t seen the pieces of Peter disappear one by one, he just left for one of the divorce hearings one morning, came back one afternoon, and it was as if Peter had never been there.

Gone are the pairs of beaten converse, even though Tony had bought him suede shoes, gone are the hoodies next to blazers on the coat hook. Gone are the fruits and vegetables for those disgusting smoothies he’d always insist Tony drink. Gone is the sugary cereal because the boy’s a walking paradox and gone is-

Peter.

Tony swallows hard. There’s a lump in his throat. The first tickle of grief in this whole, drawn out process.

Peter’s gone.

Mr Wobbles is gone.

***

He won’t turn on the lights. Won’t go to the bedroom.

What he does do, because Peter’s not here to give him those huge bambi eyes, is pour himself a glass of scotch.

Then another. Then some bourbon. Bitter. All the good stuff he hasn’t felt the need to touch in two years.

Two years with Peter.

On their second anniversary, he remembers Peter’s face- flushed pink, stammering, eyes darting around to take in every inch of the party. Streamers and friends and cake and a table almost buckling under the weight of the presents.

“Tony,” he’d hiccuped, curling into Tony’s chest, shy and excited, “it’s too much.”

Tony had kissed the top of his curls. Felt pride bursting over the seams. Happy to make Peter happy. He’d felt good. “No such thing, baby,” he’d promised.

He’d lied.

Instead, Tony drinks, toes off his shoes, and reaches for the box that his lawyer gave him.

Peggy’s a great lawyer. Expensive, but the one Pepper insisted on.

“I don’t need a lawyer-”

“Peter could claim 50% of SI, Tony. 50%, do you hear me?”

Peter could have, of course. But he didn’t. Tony knew he wouldn’t. Peter’s not the vindictive type. Even in the midst of heartbreak.

He reaches for the box. It’s full of transcripts of the divorce proceedings, there are memory sticks of the recordings.

It all had to be recorded, for some reason. The most high profile divorce of the century.

Tony winces as he thinks of the tabloids. Half of them smear Peter as a gold-digger, wrong wrong wrong, the other half say Tony was cheating, abusive, desperate to go back to his philandering playboy days. Those are wrong too.

But he guesses, Husband refuses to change doesn’t make that good of a headline.

His laptop glows with harsh brightness as he slides in the memory stick. He sits crossed-legged on the ground, muscles protesting, and he forgoes the glass and drinks from the bottle.

It’s not classy. His mom wouldn’t want-

“10% is too high.” Peggy says efficiently on the video, scanning through the contracts. Tony sits beside her, slouched, comfortable, sunglasses on. Pale blue suit. He looks bored. Like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

The real Tony knows better. Knows that those sunglasses were hiding blood shot eyes, eyes focused on-

Peter. Small. Tired. Straight-back, hands folded, in a crisp white shirt.

“We’re not asking for 10% of total assets,” Coulson says softly. “But Mr Parker has made significant contributions to the biochemistry division of SI and as such he is entitled to 3% of the division and a 2% shareholder stake in the company. His marriage to Tony justifies the other 5%.” Coulson looks up from the paper and at Peggy. His voice is gentle: “We’re within our right to go to 50%. We’re asking for 10%. 3% biochemistry, 7% of SI.”

Peggy meets Coulon’s eyes. She sighs. “7% total. 3% Biochemistry, 4% of SI.”

Coulson turns to look at Peter, who murmurs something. Coulson looks like he wants to argue further, but he doesn’t.

“Agreed.” He says.

Both lawyers write. Then they move on to the next thing.

Tony thinks about Coulson. Looks at him on the video. When Pepper had said she’d secured Peggy Carter, he’d nodded, then blinked.

“What about Phil?” He’d asked.

Pepper had kept her face carefully neutral. “He’s Peter’s lawyer.”

“Oh.” Tony had said.

He’d thought Phil was his friend. They’d known each other for years, after all, and then he chastises himself. Phil and Peter had become fast friends. Manning the barbecue out on the deck, laughing, fangirling over Captain America.

“Tony,” Phil had said, coming up to him at the end of it all. “Are you- are we, okay?”

“Yeah.” Tony had nodded. He didn’t have it in him to have another enemy. “I get it. He asked you first.”

“No, Tony.” Phil frowned, shaking his head. “He needed me more.”

What did that mean?

Tony thinks now, swirling the remnants of the bottle, watching the lawyers go back and forth and him and Peter not saying a word.

Why did Peter need Coulson? The divorce was Peter’s idea. Kid should’ve been happy.

The Peter on the screen turns to look out of the window. It’s raining. He’s framed with silver light.

He doesn’t look happy.

Tony tries to think harder. Mind whirring. Tries to think of things he’s long ignored.

Of the fighting.

Of Peter’s pinched face.

He thinks, with more shame, about the times he raised his voice. How he yelled. When Peter would try to pull him out of calculations, try to coax him into eating, try to talk him down from the edge of self-destruction. Tony remembers lashing out.

“You want me to give up being Iron Man? You’re out of your mind, Peter. You’re trying to change me.”

“I’m trying to save you-”

“It’s who I am!” Tony had roared, so loudly that Peter had jerked backwards: afraid. “You’re trying to get me to abandon who I am. Well, I won’t change that way. That’s me, baby, you either take it or leave it.”

He’d been so angry. So scared. At the thought of the red and gold being put to rest.

He’s Iron Man.

“Tony.” Peter had sniffled. “I love you so much. I...I don’t want you to get hurt, but it’s more than that. You’re older now. Sam is taking over from Steve, and...and I don’t think anyone would mind, people know how much you’ve done for us all, if you wanted to retire. There are other people to be heroes now, you can-”

“Peter.” Tony had whispered, hugging him. “I promise. I won’t get hurt.”

He’d been right. But it had been a band aid on a leaking roof.

He didn’t get hurt. He saved the day. Again and again and again and again.

And each time he was gone, Peter would be pelted with rain until he gave all together.

“I want a divorce.”

Cool glass table. Thick fountain pens. Lawyers. Mr Wobbles.

Divorce of the Century - Tony and Peter call it quits. Insider reveals all.

Iron Man = Iron Heart?

Caught in the Act : A Gold Digger’s Story.

Tony Stark: Playboy Extraordinaire.

***

The sun trickles in the next morning.

Tony has a hangover.

His laptop is still playing the footage.

He opens his eyes to Peter’s face, lit with gold, he hears Peggy agree to 300 million.

Peter should smile.

He just looks sad.

Tony reaches for his phone.

It rings 8 times. Tony can picture the man on the other end. Watching it ring. Watching his name. Debating.

He answers.

“Tony.”

“He never stopped loving me.”

“I know.” Steve says quietly, huffing air into the phone, “We all know.”

Tony’s pride has saved him. It also makes him blind.

Steve comes over. Awkward, a little hesitant.

Steve is another thing Peter won in the divorce. If anyone won. If anything can be won.

Peter got Mr Wobbles. Got Steve. Got Bucky, by extension. Got Sam.

Tony got Nat and Clint.

Bruce and Thor refused to pick sides.

But Steve’s here and Tony thinks brokenly maybe all isn’t lost

“He wants me to give up being Iron Man.” Tony croaks, as Steve casts his righteous blue gaze over the penthouse. Over the box of transcripts. Over the empty bottles. Over Tony. Over the video of Peter and Coulson and the end of love.

Steve nods. “You don’t want to give up Iron Man?”

Tony nods his head. Shakes it. Shrugs. Doesn’t know.

Steve presses his lips together. “Tony, Peter can’t breathe properly when you’re Iron Man. He can’t focus. Can’t function. He’s so scared for you. If you can’t function when you’re not Iron Man, this separation is for the best.”

It’s so cruel. Too honest and brutal to hear.

“But we love each other.” Tony insists.

Steve looks sad. “Sometimes that isn’t enough.”

Tony doesn’t go to shareholder meetings.

But it’s three days later. He can’t sleep in their bed. Keeps thinking he hears Peter’s laugh or Mr Wobbles’ plaintive meow.

So when he sees Peter on the list. When he realises Peter might come. Could come. Might be there, within touching distance-

He puts on his best three piece suit. A dark tie. Gets his hair done.

He walks in, and fake-smiles at a few, blustering old men happy to see him.

In the long, oak boardroom, he sees Peter.

He looks young. Really young for the room. 25. In a pinstripe suit that looks- tailored. Good. Good for him.

And on his hand is-is-

It’s his wedding ring.

As soon as Peter looks up, he meets Tony’s eyes, and then honey-brown dart down to his finger, and they jerk under the table.

Tony can’t move.

Peter’s wearing it. Still wearing it. Why- what does-

His own is back in the penthouse. Set next to the photograph of his mother. Another sign of failure.

But maybe- maybe not yet. Maybe it isn’t over till the opera lady sings.

He spends the whole meeting watching Peter, and he isn’t subtle about it either. The other shareholders clear their throats awkwardly.

Peter lets him look. Open and graceful. He lets Tony drink his fill.

It’s never been difficult to look at Peter, after all. He’s stupidly beautiful. Big eyes, long lashes, and that jaw-

Pepper kicks him under the table. Tony barely feels it.

He keeps looking. Keeps drinking. Peter’s skin, soft, freckled, the bow of his lips, how he smiles, so wide he might burst.

He waits till the end of the meeting. Everyone files out very quickly- bar Pepper who lingers, before sighing.

Then it’s just him and Peter.

He watches Peter steel himself. Take a breath. Fix the armour in place that Tony found so frustrating during the divorce. The armour that hides Peter away. Behind an expressionless face and a blank, polite smile.

Gone, is the open boy.

Peter’s preparing himself for battle and-

Peter needed me more. Coulson had said.

Tony remembers asking Peter to join the Biochemistry division. He remembers asking Peter to move in. He remembers the late nights of equations. The way the tower would pull his iron man suit off him and Peter would be there, curled up, waiting.

He thinks. He thinks about Peter’s Oscorp Industries offer to head their Bio-tech division- rejected. For Tony.

He thinks of Peter’s dream to live in the sprawling country, away from the city.

He thinks of how Peter loves late night walks, hand in hand, staring at the twinkling lights of buildings.

He thinks of how Peter told him he was scared that Tony would get hurt.

There’s something about change. All the things Peter’s given him. Given and given and given until there was nothing left to give.

Tony hasn’t changed. He’s softer, more loving, but that’s because- of Peter.

All Peter’s ever asked of him, ever truly asked of him, was to retire.

Tony licks his lips- his tongue’s so dry- and he whispers: “It’s who I am, Pete. I’m sorry.”

Peter closes his eyes for a long, long moment.

Then he opens them, and smiles sadly. “I know, Tony.” He whispers, fragile, “I know. If there were any other way- you’re the smartest man in the world. You’d have figured it out. I think this…” he gestures between them helplessly. “I think maybe this is the only way. I’m sorry too.”

Then he twists the ring off his finger and Tony stops him.

“Keep it,” he begs, “please.”

Peter nods, tears slipping down his cheeks, and he hurries away.

Tony stands there, chest clenching- in more agony than he’s ever been. His jaws ache. He wants to scream. To disappear.

He goes home.

He’s aggressively stripping wires and thinking. Thinking. Thinking.

He’s picturing life in five years.

Picturing waking up with even more aches and pains than he has now. Of stepping down, of giving the suit to a plucky MIT graduate who Tony can mentor.

He imagines getting in his car, driving to the outskirts of New York, the rich, sprawling greenery.

Of finding Peter’s home. Gorgeous. Stately. Framed with foxgloves.

He imagines walking up the steps, knocking on the door and there’s Peter.

Even more handsome. Relaxed. Happy. He’ll smile, Tony will get down on his knees, beg for him back and Peter-

Peter will look heart-broken.

“Tony,” he’ll say, “I didn’t spend five years waiting for you. Hoping you’d come to your senses. I didn’t put my life on pause for you. And you should never have expected me to. I moved on.”

And then someone else will say, “Petey, who’s at the door?”

And he’ll come out. Peter’s husband. He’ll be handsome and young and everything Peter deserves.

Tony has to set down his tools because his hands are trembling with anger over Peter’s non-existent future husband.

Is that what he’s expecting? Is he expecting Peter to wait? To wait until Tony’s done with being Iron Man? To put his life on hold indefinitely until Tony-

It makes him sick.

He won’t do that. Not to Peter, not ever.

Online, a tabloid article: Iron Man = Iron Heart catches his eye.

They’re trying to say he has a heart of stone, but what he thinks is-

Iron Heart is a good superhero name.

Riri is wickedly clever.

She has wide eyes when he arrives at her dorm. She recognises him, clearly. But she quickly starts talking over him, shows him the prototype suit she’s designed.

He’s already seen it in videos.

“This what you wanna do?” He says, eyes catching a photo of her and a girl kissing on the wall. “You wanna be a superhero?”

“More than anything.” She says, getting to her feet, 21 years old and ready to take on the world.

“I used to want it more than anything too.” Tony nods, and he feels warm. “I want something else more now.”

She cocks her head. Trying to gauge him.

He tries to go for casual. “My hus- ex-husba- my Peter- he’s great with bio-tech. Do you- he could help- upgrade- I-”

“Mr Stark,” Riri says, pulling up her socks, folding herself onto her desk chair. “What’s the point in saving the world if you never get to live in it? Life is finite.”

“You’re a good kid.” He manages. “We might make a hero of you yet.”

She grins.

He thinks she’ll be a forced to be reckoned with.

It’s not a beach house. Or a stately home in the expensive part of New York, it’s a townhouse in Brooklyn.

Beautiful, large, homey. Tony rings on the doorbell, fiddles with his collar, wonders if he should have brought flowers-

The door opens. Tony imagines it’ll be May, or maybe a Butler, or maybe a boyfriend-

It’s Peter. He’s in pyjamas. Old ones. Tony recognises them. Mr Wobbles is curled around his feet. He shivers in the cold air.

Tony opens his mouth but doesn’t know what to say. Peter looks up at him, half hidden behind the door, the one eye Tony can see is wide and amazed. Like he maybe didn’t think Tony would come back.

“I love you, Peter Stark.” He says, remembering how Peter’s fingers had shaken when they’d signed the final papers. “And I’d do anything for you. I found a- girl. She’s great, you’ll meet her, Iron Heart, I thought, just toying around, she’ll need help. A mentor, maybe. Dead parents, always seems to be the case. But I thought maybe you and me- we could, help- guide her, I don’t-”

Peter edges out a little more. Mr Wobbles shuffles back into the warmth.

“I thought-” Peter bites his lip. “I thought Iron Man was a part of you?”

“You’re a part of me, Peter.” Tony insists. He laughs. “I’m old. Stupid. Even Cap’n Ice realised what I’ve been trying to ignore...the world doesn’t need me anymore.”

Peter reaches out, takes Tony’s hand. “I need you.” He confesses quietly, smiling.

“And you are my world.” Tony realises aloud, tingling with glee.

***

Iron Man Retires.

Stark and Parker ReUnited.

Iron Heart Makes Debut

Three Times the Starks made us Swoon

Tony Stark to celebrate 10th Wedding Anniversary.

***

He wakes up years later.

He trips over Peter’s shoes. Mr Wobbles pounces on his vulnerable toes as he walks past the bed.

He walks past one of the guest bedrooms: can hear Riri snoring.

He walks down into the lab. It glows with blue light, and there, hunched over the Iron Heart suit is Peter. He’s methodically working out all the damage it took on Riri’s latest stint. The fright she’d given them both- falling into that lake-

He looks like Tony, Tony realises. Of course his husband does, the narcissist that he is.

“Hey Pete,” Tony murmurs, rubbing his eyes, coming closer and kissing Peter on the head. “It’s late.”

“Is it?” Peter hums around a yawn, “I was just finishing up…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony chuckles, “I’ve heard that one before. Used it a few times."

Peter grins at that; tired, happy. “I guess maybe you need to tire me out,” he says wickedly, spinning in the chair, legs spreading further apart.

“Mm,” Tony murmurs, leaning down, kissing him. “Extra large pizza?”

“Cheese in the crust.” Peter nods, and they kiss again. And again.

And again.

#starker #peter x tony #angst #happy ending #fluff #divorce #make up break up #break up make up #age difference #marriage au #iron heart #tony stark #soft tony stark #precious peter parker

539 notes · View notes

thepatricktreestump · 4 years

Text

whatever you say - peter parker imagine

A/N: I don’t normally write nsfw spidey things but my fingers just wouldn’t stop typing so please do forgive me… not any actual smut, just lots of flirting and implications of sexual favors

It was strange, but for some reason, you found complete comfort in the simplicity that was Peter Parker. He lived in a small apartment with his Aunt May in Forest Hills, went to Midtown High, and at first glance, seemed like your typical teenage boy. May worked as an ER nurse and Peter kept up on his studies, proving to be a straight A student who succeeded not only in school, but in extracurriculars and academic teams as well. He liked science and math, he was really good at building robots, and he thoroughly enjoyed memorizing equations. When he wasn’t acing his tests, he spent his free time building LEGOs and watching Star Wars in his apartment or walking through town and debating between eating pizza or sub sandwiches. He had a messy bedroom cluttered with dirty laundry, an assortment of different computer parts, and countless science textbooks and academic journals. Three months ago, when you first started dating Peter Parker, this is the boy you thought you knew.

Your life, however, felt like the complete opposite. Being the daughter of Tony Stark, your day to day was far from simple. You lived in Stark Tower with Tony, cooped up on a floor with everything you could ever want or need, a master bedroom with a flat screen television, personal jacuzzi, walk in closet, arcade- you name it, Tony had it. School proved to be a breeze, and you had your MIT valedictorian of a father to thank for that, leaving you plenty of time for your own sort of extracurriculars. Rather than hang out at school and build lousy robots with Peter Parker, you’d much rather go to the lab and work on some high tech AI coding, super suit dynamics, or machine prototypes with your dad and the other avengers. He often urged you not to get too involved for your own safety, but you found yourself growing close with Bruce and Sam, bonding over your shared love for innovation. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t take after your father.

However, months passed, and the more time you spent with Peter Parker, the more you caught onto the fact that his life might not have been as normal as you initially thought it was. He kept disappearing randomly, ghosting you on planned dates, or not showing up at school. At first you thought he was just nervous, or maybe he didn’t really like you, but upon further investigation, it was evident. His life was just as crazy as yours. Although you thought it was weird that he never bothered telling you he was Spider-Man, and even weirder he didn’t inform you that he previously knew your dad, you almost liked the fact that you could share your secret world of superhero knowledge with him. You found yourselves relating to each other by joking about Steve’s old fashioned manners or Natasha’s resting bitch face. Although, other times also through confiding secret fears or discussing worst possible outcomes.

Tonight was one of the latter, you and Peter talking on the phone despite the time reading two in the morning, him trying to ease your anxiety. “It’s just been a couple days and Tony’s still not back yet…” you sighed, shrouded by your blankets, the soft glow of your phone illuminating the dark room. “He’s with Sam and he’s probably going to be just fine, but I’m still scared. And I know, I know. I’m not supposed have knowledge about those affiliated with the mission or his location, but sometimes I just can’t help but worry.”

“It must be hard,” Peter hummed in sympathy. “I’m sorry you have to go through that. May feels the same way about me.”

You paused for a moment. “I know it’s a horrible thing to think, and I’m probably just psyching myself out but-” your voice caught, shaking your head, closing your eyes. “Sometimes I wonder what if one day he just doesn’t come back.”

“Hey,” Peter hushed. “Try not to think about that, okay? He’s Iron Man, y/n, he’s fought alien monsters and literal gods, he should be just fine. Mr. Stark never goes down without a fight, he’ll be back. I’m sure of it.”

“I just can’t sleep not knowing,” you confessed, feeling sorry for dragging Peter into your own personal troubles. “I don’t know, I’m sorry… I’m probably keeping you up, and you have a calc test tomorrow-”

“No, no, don’t apologize, you’re okay,” your sweet boyfriend insisted. He paused, listening to your heavy breathing. “Do you want me to come over?”

“W-what?” you asked, confused.

“I know it’s late but if it would make you feel better, I can come over,” Peter offered. “I’ll just come to your window and you can let me in that way. I can keep you company, you can talk to me, or we can watch a movie to get your mind off things, I don’t know. Only if you want to.”

“You’d do that for me?” you wondered, growing soft at his words.

“I just don’t want you to be sad,” he explained. “And I know it’s hard with your dad being gone and all, and sure Pepper’s there, but I know you’ve never really been that close with her, and I just- I don’t know. I feel like you’re lonely, and I want to help.”

“Yeah, thank you,” you gave a soft smile. “I mean, if you want to, I wouldn’t fight you on it.”

“Just be sure to disarm FRIDAY before I come,” he reminded. “I don’t need your dad putting bars on your windows the next time I try to visit you like this.”

“Oh right!” you suddenly came to the realization. “Smart. I’ll go do that now.”

“Cool, I’ll see you in a few. Don’t miss me too much,” he teased.

“Hey, be safe! No texting and swinging!” you reminded playfully as you hung up and instantly got to work, shedding your sheets and grabbing your laptop, sliding back into bed and working out some coding.

Just as Tony had previously set up a baby monitor protocol on Peter’s suit, he had likewise set up parental controls through FRIDAY on all of your tower floor. You learned this when you tried to sneak out to a party Tony specifically forbid you from going to, and when you finally reached the elevator doors, FRIDAY locked you inside and you had to wait for Tony to come and get you. Since then, you’d been smart enough to disarm the system anytime you left your room after curfew or got into any other business Tony would obviously disapprove of. Spider-Man sneaking through your window at two in the morning to give you comfort cuddles? Probably something your father would disapprove of.

Peter tapped twice and waved, you rolling your eyes and laughing, motioning for him to come in before he slid up the glass of your window and crawled through, brushing off his suit and tugging off his mask, smiling once he clearly saw you sitting in bed, wearing one of his hoodies, grinning back at him.

“Hey Spidey,” you beamed, watching as he walked over towards your bed, kissing you softly. He tasted sweet, like candy, and you melted into the kiss, grabbing the back of his head and staying there for a moment before pulling away. He gave the best kisses.

“Heard someone needed some cheering up,” he whispered, tossing his mask on your night stand as you made grabby hands begging him to crawl into bed with you. He chuckled, giving in and situating himself underneath your covers awkwardly. You laughed alongside him, tugging him closer, pulling the sheets up over both of you, initially wincing at how cold his suit was when you went to wrap your arms around him.

“You’re freezing, Peter,” you hissed and he chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“It was windy outside, alright?” he sighed. “Come warm me up.”

“Well come closer, doofus,” you chuckled. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him, your head resting against his shoulder, arm draped over his chest, fingers playing with locks of his hair. Your voice grew to a soft whisper. “Thanks for coming, baby.”

“Anything for you, love,” he insisted, his hand rubbing soft circles on the small of your back. The room grew quiet, his hands trailing up and down your back, your fingers brushing through his messy brown locks, both of you simply enjoying each other’s company. At some point you both fell asleep, soft snores dissipating throughout the room, holding each other.

In the morning, Peter begrudgingly convinced himself he had to get up and get ready for school, kissing you on the forehead and reassuring he’d see you at lunch later that day. You groaned yourself, realizing you should probably get up and resume FRIDAY’s commands before Pepper or Happy got suspicious as to why she wasn’t giving them any updates on your morning status. You took a shower and threw on some clothes, getting ready for the school day, smiling once you saw Peter waiting for you by your locker, a Starbucks cup in his hand.

“What’s this?” you couldn’t help but laugh in surprise.

“Well I know you were sad last night and again, I just wanted to cheer you up,” he shrugged, and you found it adorable that you had been dating for going on four months now and he still got flustered being around you. “I know you like the pink one with the strawberries and the coconuts, but they were out, so I got you a peach lemonade instead, I hope that’s okay-”

“It’s wonderful, Peter,” you insisted, taking a sip and smiling fondly at your boyfriend. “Thank you. For everything. Really.”

“Damn Peter, you’re buying y/n Starbucks now?” Ned approached both of you. “You never buy me Starbucks.”

“I’m not dating you, Ned,” Peter narrowed his eyes, laughing.

“You don’t have to kiss me to buy me a cold brew,” Ned sighed.

“Anyways,” you rolled your eyes at the two boys quarreling. “You ready for that calculus exam?”

“I studied all night,” Ned smiled. “I’ve got this one down. How about you, Parker? I bet you were up late last night studying too, huh?”

“Up late last night,” you agreed. “I don’t know about studying though.”

Ned’s eyes went wide and both you and Peter laughed, the bell ringing and all of you walking to your classes. As they day went by, you started to find your mind lingering back to your dad. As much of an asshole as he was sometimes, and as overbearing and overprotective as he could get, you really did love him and care about him. Others would probably call you lame, but you really did see Tony as one of your best friends. He helped you build amazing inventions, supported you in all your academic endeavors, and did his best to look out for you. Whenever he was gone on missions for longer than a week, you always started to get worried as far as whether or not he would come back.

Peter could sense your anxiety, trying to lighten your mood with jokes or place a hand on your shoulder as a sign of affection. Afterschool he approached you, clutching onto the straps of his backpack, seeming nervous. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough day. I was thinking we could take your mind off of things and you could spend the night at my place tonight?” he offered.

“Really?” your eyes lit up, thinking how you would love more than anything to get out and do something tonight. Nothing was worse than staying at home and wallowing in your feelings.

“Yeah,” he gave a soft smile, thinking about how adorable you looked when you got excited. “Aunt May is working night shift so maybe, if it’s cool with you, we can grab a pizza, play some video games, and then watch a movie?”

“Of course,” he insisted. “And we can stop somewhere on the way home to grab some snacks too.”

“I’ll give Pepper a call and ask if I can stay over tonight, I’ll probably just say I’m with Gwen or something,” you grinned. “She’ll say yes, she usually lets me have free rein whenever Tony’s out of town.”

“Awesome,” Peter beamed.

Sure enough, you found the two of you hours later on the floor of his bedroom, eyes fixated on a television screen, playing Mario Kart and chowing down on some pepperoni pizza and cherry slushies. It was practically a ritual for you to hang out with Peter on weekends. As long as he didn’t have an academic decathlon the next morning, Aunt May let you stay as late as you wanted on Fridays. Saturdays you spent fooling around in the lab working on suit modifications, recalibrating certain machinery, or working on new projects. Sundays were official lazy days, both of you usually sleeping in and meeting up midday to cuddle on the couch and watch a movie, usually wrapping up with finishing your weekend homework over facetime. However, on the weekends in which Tony or May were out of the house, the two of you liked to have sleepovers. Usually at Peter’s for the sake of having to navigate FRIDAY’s complicated algorithms.

It wasn’t like anything particularly steamy happened between the two of you. You had been only dating for a handful of months now, and you were both in high school. Sure, you and Peter liked to cuddle a lot, and hold hands, and play with each other’s hair, but that was simply just affection. And of course, you loved kissing each other, especially when nobody else was around to make fun of you or scold you. Sometimes you found yourself getting into make out sessions, pressed up against each other and finding it hard to catch your breath, hearts racing and desperately clinging onto each other.

Occasionally it would heat up a little bit more than that, some grinding and groping and moaning, and a handful of times Peter’s taken his shirt off, but that was about it. You hadn’t even really reached second base with him yet. And you weren’t complaining, you were glad you were taking things slow. But at this point, you were ready. It just felt like it was time. But you knew this was Peter’s first serious relationship, and you didn’t want to put any pressure on him or rush him into things, so you were complacent with playing Mario Kart and eating pizza in the meantime.

“I am sooo going to kick your ass,” you warned Peter, pressing down hard on your Wii remote and hitting him with a red shell as your character zoomed past him on the race track, and he simply just laughed.

“Yeah? Wait till I break out Rainbow Road,” he insisted.

“Are you actually Satan or do you just hate me?” you narrowed your eyes. “There is no way I’m playing that shit, I think I’d rather forfeit.”

“It’s all about strategy and focus,” he argued, knocking Luigi out from second place, tailing right behind you, eyes glued to the screen.

“Strategy? You sound like Ned,” you snorted, drifting a curve and heading towards a shortcut. “That racetrack is nothing but a holographic highway of death.”

“If we had it your way, we would be playing Moo Moo Meadows on an endless loop,” Peter teased and you gasped playfully.

“What? It has fun music and I like looking at the cows,” you whined and he laughed, passing you at the last minute and scoring first place, making your jaw drop. “What the hell? How?”

“What can I say? You’re dating a winner, baby,” he grinned and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head and taking another bite of your pizza.

“I’m dating a jackass,” you joked. “You can’t let me win just once? Come on, be nice.”

“I used to do that, and you made fun of me for it,” he pointed out. “Remember the first week we started dating?”

“You literally used to go in reverse until I caught up with you,” you replied flatly. “It was ridiculous, Peter. It’s not like you made it subtle that I happened to suck at the game or anything.”

“I just didn’t want you to feel bad,” he reassured, and you chuckled, taking a sip of your slurpee and sighing, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“So another round or are we going to move onto Smash Bros?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Up to you,” he shrugged, taking a bite of his pizza as well.

“How about we play another round of Mario Kart,” you suggested. “But whoever wins gets a prize.”

“Like what?” he crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the mischievous grin on your face, doubtful.

“I don’t know, a hoodie or something,” you perused innocently and he let out a breathy laugh.

“You’ve already stolen all of mine, so I’m not sure I’d have another one to give you quite honestly,” he admitted and you smiled, mind wandering elsewhere.

“What about…” you pouted your lips, trying to think up something good. “What about if I win, I get to do anything I want to you? And if you win, you get to do anything you want to me. All within reasonable boundaries of course.”

“Woah,” Peter’s eyes widened. “Is this the part when you tell me you actually work for Hydra and you gut me like a fish or something?”

“Pshh no that’s ridiculous,” you shook your head.

“What do you mean ‘do whatever you want to me?’ Huh?” he inquired, mischievously raising an eyebrow. “This seems oddly torture-like.”

“It’s not going to be torturing,” you stared at him, unamused. “I could never hurt you.”

“Then what could you possibly want to do to me?” he sighed, looking at you, entertained with your shenanigans, taking a sip of his cherry slushie.

“I dunno,” you shrugged, stirring your straw in your cup a couple times before casually telling him your suggestion. “Suck your dick I guess.”

He instantly spat out his slurpee, eyes widening, shocked. “E-excuse me, what?”

“I said if I win, I’d probably suck your dick I guess,” you shrugged again and he blinked at you, entire face flushed red, stuttering and stunned all at the same time. Your lips curled up in a small smile, thinking of how much you loved to see him like this, a literal blushing virgin. He was adorable, really.

“Well gosh, I uh…” he looked down at the red icee he had spat all over his t-shirt and then up at you, still at a loss for words. “You don’t really have to beat me at Mario Kart to get my permission to do that, you know.”

“Yeah, but this way makes it a lot more fun, yes?” you smirked and he swallowed awkwardly, absolutely frazzled.

“S-sure, I guess you’re right there,” he nodded slowly, still staring blankly at the slushie stains. “How do you know I’m not going to just let you win?”

“Because…” you drew out, looking at him, still smirking. “If you win, then you get to do whatever you want to me.”

He paused, turning towards you, breath hitching. “Anything?”

“Well again, no torture or killing or whatever but-” you clarified and he laughed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, of course, but uh…” he got lost staring at you again and you couldn’t help but wonder what he could possibly be thinking of. “Shit, I’m in.”

“Really?” you bit down on your lower lip, almost too excited for this bet.

“Definitely,” he nodded, feeling a bit more confident. “Just give me a second.” He slipped off his t-shirt and you watched intently, noting how built and lean he was. There were certain perks to dating Spider-Man, and it was moments when your boyfriend was sitting in front of you shirtless like this that you were ever most grateful for them.

“Well shit, Parker,” you laughed to yourself and he stared at you, confused.

“What? My shirt had slushie all over it,” he insisted and you looked at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Uh huh…”

“No for real!”

“Totally not trying to tease me or anything over here.”

“Oh whatever! Just start the game.”

“Give me a second,” you insisted, reaching down and deciding to take it one step further, slipping off your own sweatshirt and revealing your bra underneath, looking at him, anticipating his reaction. Seeing him like this, you wanted to take a picture and capture it forever. He looked breathless, staring at you, his eyes dark and fixated, his lips parted, mesmerized. You couldn’t help but smile. “See something you like, Spidey?”

“Yeah,” his eyes flickered up to yours, still blushing. “You.”

Grinning, you leaned over to kiss him, then pulled away, picking up your Wii remote and selecting your favorite racetrack. “Good luck,” you winked.

“Good luck yourself,” he laughed. “Seeing as the only time you ever beat me in Mario Kart is when my controller dies, I think you’re the one who’s going to need it.”

“Fine, to hell with luck,” you rolled your eyes as the countdown started. “Maximum effort.”

Both of you pressed down hard, zooming through the track, eyes fixated on the screen, cursing and screaming and hooting and hollering as you gained power ups and got knocked off the road by each other. By far, the most intense game of Mario Kart you’ve ever played in your life. Each round you seemed to egg each other on more and more, and although you clearly knew how this was going to end, you couldn’t help but at least try your very best. First place trophy spinning on the screen, Peter’s tongue ran over his lower lip, glancing over at you as nervousness flowered in your chest. What did he have in mind?

“I don’t think either of us saw that coming,” he stated sarcastically and you looked at him incredulously.

“Alright then Peter Parker,” you hummed lightheartedly, shutting off the television and setting your controller down, sighing as you leaned back and rest your weight upon your backwards palms. “What do you have planned for me?”

“Well…” he looked at you shyly, almost hesitant, and you began to grow even more curious. “I know you said ‘anything I wanted’ or whatever, but I want to make this enjoyable for you too, and that sure you’re okay with everything I’m doing.”

“By all means, don’t stop for me,” you insisted, small smile tugging on the edge of your lips. “If you say or do anything I don’t like, I’ll speak up. Don’t worry.” He hummed softly in acknowledgment, nodding as he looked towards the floor, still nervous, then cleared his throat.

“I think seeing as your intentions were to seduce me, I guess I have no choice but to go along with the theme,” he rolled his eyes playfully, slowly gaining confidence and crawling closer to you, making your heart beat twice as fast. He kissed you on the lips, soft and sweet and slow, and then pulled away, lowering his face so that his mouth was barely brushing up against your ear, his voice lowering to a whisper. The entire mood of the room shifted, into something more serious. “So, I think you should lay on the bed for me.”

“Whatever you say,” you smiled sweetly, trying to hide your nervousness and doing as told, getting up and making your way to his bed, laying down on your back, watching as he stood at the end, looking you up and down, licking his lips. You could tell something inside of him changed. He didn’t seem so timid anymore, afraid to suggest something or speak up. His shoulders rolled back, his feet planted solid in the ground, his entire stance exuding confidence. It was different, dominant and alluring, and you couldn’t help but be captivated by it. He was entrancing like this, dark eyes gazing over your body, shirtless, hands dipping down into the waistband of his jeans, brows furrowed, pondering what to do with you.

“Hands up. Against the bedframe,” he ordered, and you looked at him, trying to analyze what he had in mind as you tentatively did as instructed, positioning your arms above you, against the wooden frame. In what seemed like an instant, he suddenly flicked his wrists outward, webs springing from his fingers and you gasped as the sticky substance pinned your hands above you, a mess of webs fixating them to the wooden plank. You eyes widened and then narrowed.

“Didn’t know Spidey was into bondage,” you bit down on your lower lip, aroused by his dominance and playfulness all the same.

“Didn’t know you could be so naughty,” he quipped back and you blushed, trying to look away, shy.

“Nuh uh, none of that,” he argued with a chuckle, crawling on top of you and raising your face to look at him with one of his hands, making your eyes meet. “If I do recall correctly, you were offering to suck me off a moment earlier. Seemed pretty eager too.”

“Still am if that’s what you fancy, Peter,” you suggested, eyes twinkling with a glint of naughtiness, but he just shook his head, smiling.

“I think I have other plans for you tonight,” he insisted, kissing you again this time, but rougher, his tongue sliding in between your lips and up against your own, then retreating to have his teeth catch your lower lip, dragging it between them before he pulled away, devilish smirk on his face.

“Mind filling me in on the agenda?” you asked with a breathy voice, fluttering your eyelids and parting your lips, bucking your hips up to meet his.

“It involves your pants off, and my head between your legs, and you moaning my name,” his eyes flickered up to meet yours. “And then me fucking you into this bed until those moans turn into screams.”

“Holy fuck,” you whispered, eyes glazed over, staring at him, practically speechless.

“Sound good to you, sweetheart?” he hummed, fingers tracing over your stomach, playing with the hem of your waistband.

“Shit…” you laughed to yourself quietly, eyes still fixated on him, feeling unbelievably flustered. “I think I ought to up the ante on Mario Kart wins a whole lot more from now on.”

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sheerfreesia007 · 2 years

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Webhead Chronicles # 19

Title: Webhead Chronicles # 19

Fandom: The amazing spiderman

Pairing: Peter Parker x OFC!

Author: @sheerfreesia007

Words: 1,188

Warnings: Fluff, pining idiots

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @linkpk88, @weirdowithnobeardo, @athalien

Author Notes: The tension is getting real son.

Gif Credit: @spidermanisthegreatest

Peter stretches across his bed lazily feeling his joints pop and muscles pull tight with his movements. He’s splayed out across his bed with his history homework spread out on his pillows. Ev has been teaching him hand to hand combat like her Dad showed her, so that she could defend herself, and he’s starting to feel the strain it’s having on his muscles. But he’s also noticed that with all of her rigorous training he’s getting better at it and it’s starting to feel second nature now. When he goes out at night still searching for Uncle Ben’s killer he doesn’t have any doubts about his fighting style anymore.

There’s a loud pop from his shoulder area and Peter groans loudly as his muscle relaxes. He’s gotta tell Ev to ease up on the training so that he can recover from it and not hurt. Peter yawns widely as his body begins to settle into his comforter, his eyes are quickly closing as sleep tries to pull him under.

Suddenly his bedroom swings open and Peter is startled out of sleep so abruptly that he nearly falls off the bed, only able to catch himself when he catches his bearings. Ev is standing in his doorway panting heavily as she holds a reusable shopping bag in her hand.

“Get up, I brought you a present.” she tells as she drops the shopping bag on his desk chair and begins digging through it. Peter’s grumbling as he tries to settle back into his bed when suddenly something hits him in the face as Ev laughs happily at her aim being perfect.

“What is this?” Peter asks, confused as he looks down at the red and blue cloth she had thrown at him. As Peter’s eyes focused more on the cloth he realized what he was holding and gasped loudly before whipping his head up to stare at Ev with wide eyes. “Is this what I think it is?” he asked, surprised and overly excited now that he knew what he was holding. Ev nods her head at him with a wide grin on her face.

Peter stands from his bed quickly and lets the suit fall to his full height and he can see all the details she had put into the suit. The black webbing she added to the red chest area and the black spider emblem that had stitched into the suit made Peter’s body tingle with excitement to wear the suit. He couldn’t wait to get into it and see how it fit.

“I went with spandex because that’ll make you more aerodynamic, the webbing and emblem was just a fun touch I figured would be nice for you.” she began to explain and Peter nodded in awe at her words. “Oh! I made you a mask too.” she said suddenly before turning back to her bag and pulling out a red full coverage mask and handing it to him. “The lenses are polarized so that you don’t burn your retinas with all the swinging you’re gonna be doing.” she explained and Peter grinned widely at her.

Stepping up to her he wrapped her tightly in his arms while burying his face in her neck. His grin formed from one side of his face to the other and Ev flinched away from him as he tickled her neck with his nose.

“Thank you so much Ev.” he said into her neck and Ev chuckled softly.

“You’re welcome.” she replied to him as her arms wrapped around his waist.

“But Ev it’s missing something.” he said teasingly as he pulled away from her. When she looked up at him she twisted her mouth to the side knowing that he was going to say something to tease her about the suit.

“Where’s the cape?” he asked as a grin burst on his face, not being able to keep a straight face.

“No cape.” she responded quickly and Peter burst into laughter causing her to start chuckling at him. “Go try it on. I need to know if it fits alright.” she insisted and Peter nodded his head before quickly heading to the bathroom.

He quickly got undressed to his underwear and slipped the suit on. His excitement level rose as the suit easily fit over his body. When the suit was covering his lower half up to his waist he looked up in the mirror before sliding his arms into the suit and pulled the zipper up the back. Staring at himself in the mirror with the spider emblem on his chest Peter took in a deep breath feeling as if he was doing something great. He slipped the mask over his head and grinned widely underneath it. The suit fit perfectly and he couldn’t wait to go out fighting crime in it.

Walking out of the bathroom into his bedroom Peter is distracted as he rushes over to the standing mirror he has in the corner of the room. He doesn’t hear the soft gasp from Ev as she watches him walk into the bedroom in his spider suit. Her eyes dance up and down his form and she feels a hot blush creep up her neck as she realizes how skin tight the suit actually is. All of Peter’s muscular form is on display for her and she guiltily looks away when she feels as if she has been staring at him for too long.

As she’s dragging her eyes away from him Ev catches him turning from side to side checking himself out and suddenly her eyes land on his perky ass in the suit and she feels her cheeks explode with heat. She’s gasping for breath suddenly and she stands from his desk chair quickly nearly knocking it over on the floor. Peter turns to her concerned and she’s face to face with the large lensed eyes and feels herself falling into them and getting lost.

“Ev? Are you okay?” Peter asks, sounding only slightly muffled through the mask. He steps closer to her and Ev feels her eyes widen knowing that he’s going to reach for her to make sure she’s okay. She takes a step back and nods her head raising a hand to keep him at a distance.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” she tells him quickly before she turns from him and begins to gather her things to leave. “I just forgot I’ve gotta go take care of something. Let me know if there’s any problems with the suit!” she calls out before rushing from his room.

Peter is left standing there in front of his mirror confused, he had heard Ev’s heartbeat pounding in his ears as soon as she got a good look at him in his suit. He hoped she didn’t think he looked bad, because Peter thought she did a really good job on the suit and he was so happy with it. He figured he would just catch up with her later and make sure she was okay. He turned back to the mirror to check himself out again feeling too ecstatic with the suit.

#my writing #webhead chronicles #tasm peter parker x ofc!#tasm peter parker #the amazing spiderman #marvel

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msmarvelwrites · 4 years

Text

Season Of The Witch - Part 3

Summary: Your witchy abilities get you in quite a bit of trouble from time to time… But this time you don’t mind so much.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Swearing, Anxious reader, implied smut but still 18+ pleasee!

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: Hey you guys! Hope everyone is having a good week so far! It’s been a long couple few days here, but I’m feeling productive today so here we are. Happy reading! Please like and reblog if youve read, your support means so much to me!

Thank you forever to @cutie1365 for all her help and advice on this fic. She’s killing it and you should definitely go check out her work!

You sat, defeated and mentally drained in the wreckage that was your bedroom floor. After you ripped almost everything out of your closet it was decided, you simply could not go tonight. All you wanted to do was sink into the floor and let the miss-matched fabric swallow you whole without surrender. It could be the idea of spending the night surrounded by screaming thoughts… It could also be the frigid rejection you had received earlier from Bucky, but either way your fate was sealed. It was better if you just bailed. Peter would be disappointed he wouldn't have someone to escape the ‘adult-ier adults’ with him, but he would understand. Wanda, however, would not be so forgiving.

The knock on your bedroom door sufitialtly pulled you from your own daydreams.

“Miss Y/L/N, Miss Maximoff is here to see you. Shall I let her in?” The A.I. spoke. You rolled your eyes, a groan slipping from your lips as you hawled yourself off the floor and onto the bed. “Yes, thank you, Friday.” You mumbled.

Seconds later, Wanda was skipping into your room with a shy grin smoothed over her pink lips. You knew that look all too well, and to this day, it worried you.

“Hello there friend.” She chimed, swinging the fabric bag she carried onto the bed and taking a seat beside you. “I can see I’ve interrupted your existential crisis.” She chuckled, gesturing to the mess you had made.

“I’m not going, Wan.” You stated, watching her carefully as she rolled her eyes.

“Like hell you're not going. What’s Bucky going to do without you to shadow?” He chided, eyeing you carefully. She was watching for a reaction, anything to confirm her suspicions. She had probed you for information this time last week. You couldn't hide from her, she knew you too well. Not only in her gifts, but also in spirit. She was one of the first people you really opened up to, and she often used that against you. Especially when trying to discover why you andBucky seemed to be in a much better mood lately. ‘Antidepressants’ was your final answer.

“I actually don't care what Bucky does. Maybe he’ll get lucky with Steve tonight.” You joked. God you hoped you were joking.

“Shut up, Y/n. I know somethings going on with you two.”

“Who two?” Peter inclined striding into your room and flopping onto the bed, his head sitting between you and Wanda as he looked up at her.

“Y/n and Bucky are doing it.” She indulged him as his face fell. He crawled around so he could look at you dead on, his face contorting into that of disgust.

“You and- and… Mr. Barnes? No…” He grimaced, shaking his head like he had tasted something sour.

“No! There is nothing going on between Bucky and I.” you insisted, glaring at Wanda.

“Don’t listen to her, Peter. She’s a filthy liar. And she’s totally banging Barnes.” Wanda giggled as you shoved her into the pillows.

“Banging? Oh god no- I’m picturing it… Make it stop!” Peter gagged sarcastically, toppling over onto Wanda as they both fell into a fit of laughter.

“I don't know why I tolerate you two.” You chuckled, watching your friends writhe on the bed. In a moment of distraction, Peter grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you down on top of him.

“You know you need us. What would you do, huh? hangout with Steve the ninety year old virgin? And I know you avoid Natasha like the plague because everytime you see her she drags you to the gym… No, no you need us.” Peter smiled, tucking one of his arms under his neck as he shifted onto his back. You laid there on the bed between him and Wanda as you all contemplated that.

“If I tell you, you have to promise it stays between us. I’m looking at you, Parker. Stark canNOT know about it.” You signed, glaring at him until he nodded. “So… Maybe it's possible Bucky and I might be… I don’t know what you’d even call it… I guess we're trying to…”

“Is bump nasty’s still a term?” Wanda asked, false innocence in her eyes as she looked at you. Both you and Peter threw your heads back laughing and he elbowed her.

“That’s awful.” Peter giggled, pointing his finger in his mouth and gagging.

You spent the next hour explaining what was really going on between you and Bucky. How you were definitely not ‘bumping nasties’ and that it was just pure and new and so, so incredibly hot.

“You have to go tonight.” Wanda sighed, holding up a little black dress infront of the floor length mirror.

“And do what?” You huffed, falling back on the bed and worrying on your bottom lip. “Bucky basically ran out of the room the moment I brought up the idea of-”

“Bumping Nasties?” Peter piped up, to which Wanda rocketed a pillow at his face, the crimson current sizzling around it.

“Yeah, that.” You chuckled, letting your face drop in your hands. This was just embarrassing. You’d never been so hung up on a guy before. But then again, Bucky wasn't just some guy.

“If only you could know what he was thinking…” Wanda smirked, turning on her heel and silently asking Peters approval of the dress. He shrugged in response, gaining a frustrated eye roll from the redhead.

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t mean to listen in… It’s an invasion of privacy.”

“That's never stopped you before.” Peter argued, a goofy smile plastered on his lips.

“Listen, read his mind- don't read his mind. It doesn't matter. The guy is obviously crazy about you. He’s always so dark and gloomy but lately the guy actually smiles. I heard him laugh the other day,” Wanda smirked, sitting beside you on the bed. “At one of Sam’s jokes.” She finished.

“Yeah, Y/n. You gotta go. Do it for us. Also because you're the only one who will sneak me booze under the table.” Peter chuckled, his bottom lip wobbling as he pleaded with you.

“Fine. But only because drunk Peter is the better Peter.”

Wanda nodded her head in agreeance, grabbing the fabric bag off the bed and throwing it in your lap. “Perfect. Wear this, I picked it out specially for you…”

The thumping sound of music vibrated through the hallway as you tangled yourself in the orange and black tassels hanging from the door. You always liked Halloween as a rule, but Tony’s parties were starting to put a damper on your fun.

You had thought that Bucky would have met you at your room to escort you to the event. He knew how badly you dreaded going, but he never showed. Maybe you had read him all wrong, you thought. Maybe this was all in your head, piecing together his thoughts into something you wanted to hear rather than the truth. Maybe the dress that Wanda had picked out for you was starting to cut off the circulation to your brain because it was getting harder and harder to think straight… Or was that just the music drowning out your mindless babble.

“Good evening, beautiful.” Peter hummed from beside you. His presence startled you as you hadn't heard him coming. He held out his arm offering it for you to hold. “Are you going in?”

The question hung in the air for a moment before you finally nodded your head, swallowing hard and taking his arm. It was moments like this that you were thankful for Peter. Truthfully you knew if he wasn't standing right there you might have ran for your life, bunkering down in your room in a blanket fort.

“Such a gentleman.” You cooed, resting your head on his shoulder as he walked you into the party.

“Nah, just a friendly neighborhood spider man. It’s good for my street cred, nothing more.” You brushed you off, pulling you into the buzzing room.

Voices filled your head, swirling around you as you tried to concentrate on just one. There had to be at least a hundred people here tonight. They crashed over you, swarming in your mind like bees in a hive. It had been forever since you had been in a crowd like this and the anxiety was starting to coarse through your veins.

“Hey. You're alright.” Peter assured you, pulling you across the room and over to the bar where Sam and Nat sat, laughing at something Tony had said.

“Well if it isn't the wicked witch of NewYork.” Sam called, pulling you into his chest. “Your shadow is around her somewhere. Probably off staring longingly at Steve.” He chuckled. You rolled your eyes, gnawing at your bottom lip as you scanned the room. Lo and behold, Bucky stood in the corner of the room with Steve, his eyebrows fused into a knot as his friend spoke something you couldn't make out over the booming music.

“He’s looking more pissy than usual.” Nat snorted, watching you as you gawked at the man. You didn't notice the small smirk that had appeared on her lips as she pieced together your frustration.

“Nah, that's just his resting face.” Tony quipped, pouring a tall glass of liquor and sliding it across the bar to you. You picked it up, lifting it to your lips and downing it seconds later as you clanked it back on the counter.

“Keep em’ coming. You guys are loud tonight.” You mumbled, your brain already beginning buzz as you forced your friends on ‘mute’. It was like a constant sit-up, you liked to describe. Eventually your body would cave and their thoughts would rush in, but the alcohol helped numb the ache and kept them at bay.

With another double in hand, you decided the liquid courage was exactly what you needed to confront the ‘gentleman’ he so eloquently had put.

As you closed in you noticed Steve elbowing Bucky, altering him of your presence. At the sight of you, his face fell, his eyes darting to the floor.

“Evening geriatrics.” You chuckled, downing your drink as mustering every fiber in your body to make eye contact with the ethereal man before you. To your dismay, he was staring back, his eyes a violent thunderstorm you were on the verge of losing yourself in. You swallowed hard, clearing your throat and attempting to calm your nerves as you scanned him over.

“Bucky. You look… Nice.” You choked out. His navy blue dress shirt was tucked neatly into his dark washed jeans, his hair perfectly placed in a way you knew had taken him forever before he was content to leave his room. The idea made you smile, but only for a moment as the sinking feeling crept back into the pit of your stomach.

“I’ll leave you two, to… Talk.” Steve waved his goodbyes, pulling you into a side hug and whispering in a hushed tone, “Take it easy on him.”

With that, Steve was gone, leaving you alone and vulnerable.

“You look incredible.” Bucky hummed, his eyes falling down your form, but his face remained unreadable.

Don’t just stand there, do something… Apologize… Kiss her… God, just stop staring and-

“I should apologize- for earlier. I shouldn't have run out on you like that. It won't happen again.” Bucky mumbled, his hands, vibranium and flesh stuffed in his jean pockets. You were caught off guard to say the least. You were ready, guns drawn to defend yourself, but there stood the infamous Winter Soldier, cowering before you like a lost puppy. Your eyes softened as a small smile pulled at the corner of your lips.

“Why did you leave?” You finally spoke, “I didn't mean to push you… Bucky, rushing is the last thing I wanted to do. If you want to-”

“No!” He blurted.

“No?”

“You're not rushing me. Damn, doll. I’m trying my best here, but you're walking around in that dress, with those lips and all I want to do is…” He trailed off, his eyes falling on your best as he worried on his bottom lip.

“So its my fault?” You gawked.

“No!” He almost shouted, lowering his voice when he caught a few unwarranted eyes at his tone. “It’s my fault. Y/n, I’m trying so hard to be respectful. I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m completely out of my depth here. This used to be so easy and now… The rules have changed and I can’t keep up and all I know if I want to throw you over my shoulder right now and haul you back to my room and make you mine. I just… It’s just that I’ve never…”

You gaped at him, caught off guard by his confession as you waited for his next words, but his thoughts broke through the air before he could speak.

Never used my arm as anything but a means to an end… You’re going to kill her with it… How can she see you as anything but a monster…? Doesn't she know how easy it would be to lose control…? It would take minutes… Seconds…

“Bucky…” You hummed, your hand resting on his metallic arm as you pulled him from his self destructive thoughts. His eyes pleaded with you, boring into your soul. “Dance with me.”

He stared at you, opening and shutting his mouth, trying to speak. It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyways, allowing you to pull him into the crowd of people swaying back and forth to the lulling music.

You took the lead, lifting his metal hand and placing it on your hip. You intertwined your fingers with his flesh hand, stumbling forward as he pulled you in, his strength startling you a little.

Oh, god…. Be gentle… Don’t break her, you ass.

You chuckled, resting your head against his chest as you relaxed into his form. His heart beat drawing out the incoherent thoughts around you. You swayed back and forth like that, until Bucky’s breathing returned to normal again. Your hand trailed down from his shoulder to his cool metal fingers. They tightened around your waist at your touch as he stiffened, holding in a breath.

“I’m not afraid of you…” You hummed against his chest. “That’s what you said to me… ‘I’m not afraid of you.’” You recanted the conversation you had had those weeks ago outside your room.

“I’m pretty afraid right now.” He admitted, resting his chin on top of your head as he breathed you in.

“You won’t hurt me, Bucky.” You assured, running your fingers up and down his arm, listing to it whirl as he moved. “See? We’re dancing. You're holding me, and I’m not broken. I’m right here.”

Gently, you placed your hand on the side of his cheek, meeting his eyes. He swallowed hard, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared back at you. You would have given anything to kiss him right there, to melt into him and ease his mind like only he did for you.

“I don't remember how to dance.” He signed, pain dripping from his words.

“I can teach you.” You smiled into him, the smell of his cologne enveloping your senses.

“And can you teach me what you like?” He asked, his voice a low gruff in your ear. “Where you crave to be touched, and kissed and moved.”

His voice sent a shiver down your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing as his lips trailed down the shell of your ear. His words sent a heat straight to your core as his breath fanned across your cheek causing a blush to creep up your chest.

“You have to sneak me out of this party first.” You chuckled, trying (and failing) to steady your rapid heart.

“Baby, you're hanging with a strained assassin now. Let me teach you a thing or two...” He bragged, his pink lips pulling at the corner of his mouth into a smirk.

________________________________________________________________

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nothingbutimagines · 4 years

Text

The Holidate (Steve Rogers)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: Cursing, fluff, lots of bickering and pining

Summary: After Y/n’s grandmother has been hounding her to get a boyfriend, Y/n convinces Steve, the only team member alone on Christmas and her slight enemy, to go with her to her family’s Christmas Eve dinner.

Author: Dizzy

A/N: On the second day of ficmas, my fanfic writer gave to me two characters fake dating on Christmas Eve. Tomorrow is Roommate!Tom Holland x Reader and yesterday was Peter Parker x Reader. As always, requests are open and happy holidays to you all!

Masterlist Request Any Of These Peter Parker/Tom Holland Masterlist

__________________

“Yes, Grandma, I will be bringing my boyfriend with me.” You said softly, holding your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you folded clothes and placed them into your overnight bag. “Yes, he’s very handsome, of course. His name? It’s uh-”

Steve walked into the view of your doorway, knocking on the door frame softly, his eyebrow raised at you.

“It’s Steve. Yes, Steve. Cute, right? Listen, I have to go, but I will call you when we are on our way, okay?” You gave Steve a slight wave as you straightened up, holding the phone away from your face. “Love you too. Bye.”

You let out a heavy sigh, tossing your phone on the bed before turning to Steve.

“You think I’m cute?” He asked, a chuckle escaping his lips.

“Ew, as if.” You turned away, starting to fold your clothing once again. “I know you didn’t come here to eavesdrop on me and my grandmother. What do you want?”

“Well, this handsome man-”

“I never called you handsome.”

“I came here to inform you that everyone has left for the holidays, so this wing of the compound is about to be very cold since Tony wants to save electricity while everyone is out for the week.”

“Are you leaving, Steve?”

“No, I don’t have any plans. I just thought I’d stay here. Why?”

“How would you like to attend Christmas Eve dinner with my family?” You asked, turning to him with a glowing smile on your face.

“What’s the catch?”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the door frame as he studied the look on your face, attempting to read your expression as your smile fell slightly.

“Why would there be a catch?”

“Oh, come on, Y/n, you never do acts of kindness without something in return.”

You scoffed. “That is so not true! I do nice things all the time.”

“Yesterday, you gave me the extra burrito you had gotten at Chipotle and didn’t finish and then five minutes later, I got your Venmo request for the apparent four dollars and seventy-eight cents I ate.”

You laughed. “I only do that stuff to you cause it’s funny, but I didn’t think you’d hold a grudge about it.”

“It’s not a grudge-” Steve sighed and rolled his eyes. “Enough about yesterday. What is the catch in coming to meet your family?”

You zipped up your bag and looked at him sheepishly.

“I hope you’re a good actor because you have to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Steve let out a laugh and shook his head. “I’d rather be alone on the holiday than pretend to be your boyfriend.”

“You forgot to say ‘no offense.’”

“No, I hope you do take offense. I’m not going and I hope you’re bothered.”

“I am! Steve, come on! I already told my grandmother you were coming. Please, I will do anything if you do me just this one favor.”

Steve raised a brow. “Really?”

You raised your hand and nodded. “Really. Scout’s honor.”

“You weren’t even a scout.”

“Uh, yeah, I was. I was a girl scout for like three years.” You argued. “Which is something you should know as my boyfriend.”

“I am not about to learn your life’s story just to be your fake boyfriend.”

“Yes, you are. We have a four hour drive ahead of us.” You replied, slinging your bag over your shoulder and slipping past him. “Now, let’s go get you some clothes and get the hell out of here. It’s already getting cold.”

“I think I can dress myself.”

“No you can’t.”

__________________

“I hate this sweater.” Steve stated, tugging at the woven fabric as he shifted in his seat.

“Oh my god, shut up about the sweater! It looks nice!”

“It’s so stiff and itchy. There’s a reason it was in the back of my closet.”

“Could you sound anymore like a child?” You snapped. “Also, when I said we were driving, I was hoping you’d get behind the wheel.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest as you glanced away from the road and at him.

“Well, you’re the one who kidnapped me, so you have to drive. It’s only fair.”

“I didn’t even kidnap you! You came willingly.”

“That was before you made me wear this sweater!” Steve groaned, sinking into the car seat slightly. “It was also before I found out when you said you’d do anything for me in return, that meant you’d only wash my car and nothing else.”

“I don’t know why you expected me to willingly do paperwork for the next four days!”

“Because you said you’d do anything!”

“Ugh! We both know I’m liar!”

“You’ve got that right.”

You sighed heavily, moving your hands on the steering wheel. “I don’t know why I even asked you to do this. I should’ve asked Vision. At least he knows my last name.”

“I know your last name.”

“When I asked you what my last name was, you said Gatsby!”

“I know it now.” Steve corrected himself. “And of course Vision knows your last name! He’s a machine! Like a microwave!”

“I’d rather have a microwave who knows my last name as a fake boyfriend.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Do you even know my last name?” Steve challenged, turning down the music that was playing on the stereo.

“It’s Rogers.”

“Oh, so you do know.”

“Yeah, I do know.” You scoffed, leaning forward and turning the music back up. “How about we just sit and listen to music for the last thirty minutes of this car ride?”

Steve turned down the music again and looked over at you. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say if your family asks how we met.”

“Easy. Just say we met at work.”

“Wouldn’t that be weird? Since I’m your boss?”

“Actually, Fury is my boss. You’re just like the one coworker who thinks he’s the manager when the manager isn’t there.”

“I am not!”

“Newsflash, asshole, you’ve been on the same playing field as us all the whole time!”

“Language.”

“Who are you? My father?” You refrained from rolling your eyes. “Let’s just get this story straight and we’ll worry about your old man attitude later.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that last part.”

“Anyway,” You started, “we will just say that we met at work and we’ve only been dating a few months now, but I’m bringing you because you don’t have any family to see on the holidays.”

“Oh, so I’m the sad orphan you’re saving? That’s the lie we’re going with?”

“Are you dying of fucking dementia, grandpa?” You asked, the sarcasm thick in your voice. “I literally didn’t make up a lie, it was all true!”

“Oh. Right.”

“Yeah. Just tell the truth, you know, minus the part where we are not dating.” You insisted. “And try to remember my last name, for the love of God.”

“It’s Y/l/n, I know. I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Never. Now you can see why when I said I’d do anything, I wasn’t going to do just anything.”

Your phone buzzed in the cup holder between you and you reached your hand down to grab it, instead grabbing something else soft and warm. You pulled your hand away, glancing over to see Steve’s hand already on your phone.

“You know, Y/n, if you wanted to hold hands, you could’ve just asked. We are dating after all.”

“Shut up. Just hand me my phone so I can read my text message. It might be from my mom.”

You reached for the phone in Steve’s hands, your other hand still on the wheel and your eyes on the road as he slapped your hand away lightly.

“No way. You’re driving. I’ll read it to you.” He insisted, attempting to open your phone before looking at you. “I need your face to open your phone.”

“There is a password. It’s ‘Steve sucks major dong’. all lowercase, no space.”

“That didn’t work.”

“I know it wouldn’t. I just wanted to say it.” You chuckled. “The password is ‘there is no password’, no spaces, all lowercase.”

“Clever.” Steve replied, now looking intently at your phone before reading out loud, “Peter aka Spiderboy says that he washed the car you asked him to and even waxed it since he thought it would look nice, so you can just venmo him his twenty dollars.”

“Oh, good. I didn’t think he’d get that done until the weekend.”

“You paid Tony’s little mentor kid to wash my car, didn’t you?” Steve asked, setting your phone down back in the cup holder.

“Of course I did. You didn’t really think I’d do it myself, did you? It so much easier to pay some kid cash than do it myself.”

“Fair point.”

You took a turn into the driveway of your parent’s house, sighing heavily as you put the car into park and turned to Steve.

“Listen to me,” You ordered, poking him in the chest. “If you so much as hint at the fact that we aren’t actually dating, I will kill you. Don’t call me pet names, don’t annoy me. We just need to make it through the next two days and we’ll never have to speak of this again.”

“Hold on. The next two days?” Steve’s eyes were wide as they met yours.

“Why the fuck did you think I packed you a bag?”

“I don’t know! Just in case I spill on myself?”

“Are you a baby? Do you need a diaper bag?” You mocked, your attitude clearly annoyed. “How often do you spill on yourself?”

“Well, never, but maybe now I might! Maybe I might because I’m nervous now that you’re holding me hostage in the middle of nowhere!”

“You are so dramatic, my God!” You groaned, unbuckling yourself before swinging open your door and jumping out of the car. “Just grab your bag so we can go inside.”

You opened the door to the backseat, now face to face with Steve who was on the other side, grabbing his own bag and coat. You stuck your tongue out at him, only to cause him to roll his eyes before you both closed your doors and you locked the car. You made your way around to Steve’s side of the car, holding your hand out to him.

“What are you doing?”

“Hold my hand.” You ordered, waving your hand at him.

“I don’t want to hold your hand.”

“Suck it up. You have to. We have to look like we’re together.”

“I hate you so much.”

“Shut up and hold it already!” You cried, waving your hand wildly before he took your hand in his. “Thank you.”

“Don’t talk to me.”

You guided him down the walkway and up the stairs onto your parent’s front porch. You leaned forward, ringing the doorbell before looking up at Steve, who had a strong frown on his face. You yanked his hand lightly, causing him to look at you.

“Smile. Look like you love me.” You whispered as the front door opened, to reveal your mother and father. “Mom, dad! Hi!”

“Y/n, honey, it’s so good to see you.” You mother beamed, looking between you and Steve. “Oh, you must be Steve! Y/n has told us so much about you!”

Steve raised a brow, a smirk on his face as he looked at you. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, of course! She thinks you are just the cutest and I can see why.”

“Mom, come on.” You groaned, feeling as though you were back in your teens, bringing home your high school boyfriend to meet your parents.

“Oh, hush, just let us have a chance to tease you.” She laughed, touching your shoulder as you slipped into the house past her.

“Yeah, sweetheart, let us have our fun.” Steve agreed, following you inside.

“Oh, Steve, Y/n’s father will take both of your bags to your room.” Your mother said, your father taking your bag from you and taking Steve’s as well. “I need to go check on the ham, but make yourselves at home! Everyone is in the living room.”

You nodded as your two parents departed before turning to Steve, taking your hand from him. “Sweetheart? Really?”

“I was trying to sound like a boyfriend.”

“It was weird. Please, don’t do that again. Just, just don’t call me pet names.”

“If I can’t call you pet names, what do I call you?” Steve asked as he followed you down the hallway to the living room.

“Just call me by my name, okay?” You nodded, flashing a smile before turning forward, walking into the living room.

“Y/n!” Your grandmother beamed, causing the rest of the room to turn and face you.

“Hello, Grandma. Hello, everyone, this is Steve. My, uh-”

“Her boyfriend. Nice to meet you all.” Steve gave a small wave to the room as you took a seat down on the couch besides your grandmother, Steve following your lead.

You gave your grandmother a quick kiss, sinking into the couch as Steve sat beside you.

“He’s very handsome.” Your grandmother whispered, leaning in close to you and gave you a quick wink. “Good job.”

You gave her a shy smile. “Thank you, Gran.”

“It’s uh, very nice to meet you, ma’am.” Steve spoke up, leaning forward to look past you.

“Oh, you too, honey. And might I say, you are cute as a button. If I was a few years younger, I’d swoon for you just as Y/n here has.”

“Okay, Gran. Let’s not embarrass Steve.”

“Oh, I’m not embarrassed.” Steve corrected, a hand on his chest, “I’m flattered, actually. But that blush on your cheeks might indicate you are the one embarrassed.”

Your mother walked into the living room, her smile bright as she clapped her hands together, gathering the attention of everyone in the room.

“Alright! Dinner is ready if you all are hungry.”

“Thank God.” You stood up, smoothing out the fabric of your pants as you took a deep breath. “Come on, Steve.”

“Coming.” Steve stood up and followed you threw the entrance to the kitchen.

“Oh, look who’s under the mistletoe!” Your grandmother beamed as you both stopped to look back at her.

“Oh, Grandma, please.” You shook your head. “It’s just a silly tradition.”

“Oh nonsense, Y/n, it’s fun.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, it’s just a funny tradition.” Steve smirked, grabbing your hand and pulling you close to him before kissing you softly.

You hummed, shocked by the gesture before melting a bit at the sensation of his lips on yours. You put your hand on his chest before pulling away, only to realize you were the only ones left in the hallway.

"If you ever kiss me like that again-" You whispered, your voice almost a hiss as you followed him down the hallway.

"Shut up, you liked it, you opened your mouth for tongue."

"I did not!" You retorted.

"Then why'd you lick mine when I stuck it in your mouth?" Steve questioned, looking back at you with a matter of fact look on his face.

"Just don't kiss me, alright?"

“So now I can’t kiss you? How do you expect us to fake date if I can’t even properly pretend?”

“You just want an excuse to kiss me, don’t you, Steve?”

“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t like that, too.”

“I can like the action of kissing without liking the person.” You stated, turning away from him as you grabbed a dinner plate, piling on the food you wanted before following the rest of the group into the dining room.

“Y/n, Steve, we left a spot open for you two so you can sit together.” Your mother motioned towards you.

You took a seat between Steve and your grandmother, sandwiched between them and wishing you hadn’t picked the spot as you looked around the table, your parents sitting at the two heads and you older brother and his girlfriend sitting across from you with your younger sister sandwiched between them.

“So,” Your mother started, looking at the two of you, “how did you two meet?”

“We met at work.” You stated simply, not looking up from your plate as you pushed around your food.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked Steve. Steve, how did you two meet?”

“Uh,” Steve looked over at you for reassurance, only to receive a confused expression in response, “we met at work, Y/n is right, but it wasn’t as simple as that. I think when we first met, we kind of butted heads a lot and bickered all the time.”

Steve glanced over at you, taking your hand in his. “You know how Y/n is, she teases everyone, and I think for a while I thought she just hated me, but then I figured out she was really only ever teasing me because she liked me. I don’t know if it was romantic or not, but I knew I liked her romantically. It was kind of a no-brainer, whether or not to ask her out. So, I did. She laughed in my face, of course, but when she realized I was serious, she reciprocated the sentiment and said yes.”

You watched Steve as he spoke, your hand warming up in his as you sat silently. You were amazed by the story, almost believing it yourself. He may not have known your last name until earlier in the day, but in that moment, you realized just how observant he was of you along with how easy you were to read.

It was true, you had only ever teased and tormented Steve because you liked him, but you were never sure if it was romantic interest in him that had you acting the way you did.

Sure, Steve was handsome and kind and he was easy to talk to when you actually talked to him and he never quite put up with your shit, but did you like him?

Your eyes grew wide with realization as you quickly turned down to your plate and began eating quietly.

“Y/n? Did you hear me?” Your mother asked.

“No, I’m sorry, I was lost in thought. What?”

“Did you tease Steve because you liked him romantically?” She asked. “Like a school boy pulling a girl’s pigtails?”

You shrugged, stabbing a piece of ham with your fork. “I don’t know. I think at the time, I didn’t really realize how much I really liked him romantically. You know how I am, I’m not the romantic type.”

“But somehow she sure did fall in love with me, right, doll?” Steve asked, putting a hand on your head, brushing through you hair.

You nodded against his head, swallowing hard. “Yeah, yes! I did. I love Steve quite a lot.”

“Oh, well that’s so sweet. John, your turn, tell us about this lovely lady right here.” Your mother turned her attention to your older brother, taking the spotlight away from you and Steve.

“Oh thank god.” You let out the breath you were holding and looked at Steve. “You’re a really good liar, you know that?”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” He whispered back. “We should fake date more often, maybe at restaurants for those free desserts you get on your anniversary.”

“I can’t stand you.”

“Oh, I think you can.” Steve chuckled. “You did say you love me ‘quite a lot.’”

“I was lying, just like you did with your little story.”

“But was I fully lying there?” Steve leaned in close to you, his face close to yours.

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“You like me, don’t you, sweetheart?” He leaned in a little closer

“As if.”

“Oh really? Because the closer I’ve gotten, the pinker your face has gotten.”

“Don’t make me say it, Steve.”

“Oh, you don’t have to. The way you kissed me earlier has said enough.”

“You kissed me first.”

“And I’ll do it again.”

136 notes · View notes

darker-soft-starker · 4 years

Photo

Starker High School AU, Pt. 2 (Pt. 1, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5)

-----

Peter will admit that during he took an extended moment during his journey home to grieve the loss of his free afternoon, and indeed the impending headaches.

And the rest of his future, if he was honest.

Not that Peter was prone to melancholy by any means, but with this assignment his fate was officially sealed, there was no misunderstanding. He was going to fail this assignment. He was going to, for the first time in his academic career, be forced to submit garbage of a caliber worthy of Tony Stark. It will forever be a black mark on his academic record.

No respectable college is going to accept him after this. In fact, he might as well drop out of school now and hit up Mr Delmar for a job. All of his prep for his MIT application is as good as useless after this. Extracurriculars? Goodbye.

Because it’s confirmed.

He’s doomed.

Swaying with the motions of the train, Peter types a text to Ned, the only person who might provide him with some much needed sympathy.

> I’m doomed > paired w/stark for an assignment lollllllllll. > help

Maybe Peter could trade with Ned. Maybe he could plead with their teacher, for honest fear of his life and scholastic integrity. He wasn’t even exaggerating. In no known iteration of this universe could Peter amicably work with Tony Stark. It would be like Harry Potter sitting down for tea with Voldemort, or Frodo and Sauron chilling with a pint and a pipe in Bag End.

It was unthinkable. Implausible. Laughable.

And Peter would laugh, were it anyone but him in this situation.

The feeling is unusual. Never had he found reason in his life to truly dislike anybody before, everyone could be redeemed or given the opportunity for penance. Natasha has said more than once that Peter would offer the devil himself a sandwich if he appeared.

Tony Stark on the other hand? No sandwich for him.

Well, maybe a slice of bread. A stale one.

While he waits for Ned to responds he catches sight of his injured reflection in the train window, which is admittedly pretty gnarly. Even with his hood drawn up, there was a noticeable berth allocated to him in the busy carriage between himself and the other passengers.

< sux. can I have ur lego hogwarts if u die?

> dude :( pity me.

< lol. so, can i?

Peter sighs.

> sure. Look after May for me, bro. delete my internet history.

< deal. godspeed

Pocketing his phone, Peter wonders if it’s too late to take up praying.

---

By the time he’s back in his apartment his mood has managed to swing back up.

Tony Stark is not going to be the arbiter of Peter’s fate. Hell no. He’s smart, he’s creative and hardworking - it isn’t up to anybody but Peter to determine his outcomes. If he has to do the assignment with Stark then he will. And he will work his hardest.

If he has to do it sharing the credit with Stark, well, Peter knows a concession when he sees one.

No matter how reluctant he is.

But he powers through it, like ripping off a bandaid. It’s fine! He’s a Parker and he’s come this far in life already against ill, Parker-like odds. What was being paired for one assignment with someone who escaped the nearest hellmouth?

It’ll be fine.

Probably.

Not letting himself linger on his fears, Peter clears out his previous plans of going on a YouTube spiral and eating sour gummies until his teeth stick, instead utilising the time to get his foot in and and begins prepping for the assignment. Cursory, preliminary research at first, before the inevitable deep dive begins.

Neanderthal, Peter scoffs, mad all over again. Who is Stark to call Peter a neanderthal? He’s second in his class. He’s a straight A student. He likes school.

And as much as he is moderately skilled in, and enjoys JV, it’s not like he received his scholarship to study at Midtown based on his physical prowess.

The graze on his cheek that stings every time he yawns is proof of that.

Stark can eat his entire ass and choke on it, he thinks darkly, as he continues his research. He doesn’t know the first thing about Peter.

The data is sobering as he delves into job listings and statistics of his projected salary in a three year margin. This is really what his teachers earn? Wow. Depressing.

The contrast of expected salary versus the forecast of steep student loans is disheartening further still.

Teaching quietly slips from second to third on his list of ideal occupations.

Turning on a playlist on his phone, Peter continues to compile notes, amassing a truly gargantuan amount of tabs on his browser. His computer, old enough to be on its’ last teeth, whirrs loudly in protest.

It’s not until his room goes dark that he thinks to check the time.

Ah, shit. It’s nearly six.

Peter pauses. Should he tidy up the apartment?

...Nah, no point in breaking a sweat for Stark.

He continues typing. Then he hesitates, fingers suspended in mid-air.

But what if Stark sees his unfolded laundry out on the dining table and publicly shames him for his old-but-comfortable Bulbasaur themed boxer shorts?

Goddamnit.

---

A quick, cursory clean ensues and leaves a relatively orderly Parker apartment. No freshly laundered underwear is in sight.

Peter wraps up just a few minutes before six. Right on time.

Taking a seat at the now clear dining table Peter drums his fingers on the surface and waits.

And waits.

---

He knows when Tony finally arrives when he hears the sound of a car pulling up outside his apartment block. The riffs of a Roxette remix can be heard playing loudly from the ground to the seventh floor of his apartment, the bass so thunderous it reverberates the windows all the way up to his floor.

Drumming his fingers on the kitchen table, Peter checks the wall clock again. It’s nearly seven.

Tony’s late.

Not that Peter is particularly affected with surprise that Tony is incapable of following basic instructions, but still. Really? Really?

By the time there is a knock on his door, Peter is already before it, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Every second between Tony pulling up and his ascent to Peter’s floor has him positively fuming. He can’t believe how this day played out. It started with such promise. He had such innocuous, but high hopes.

Clearly, he miscalculated.

Feeling a touch petty, he waits to answer, listening to Stark knock a second and then a third, more insistent time before he rouses enough calm to open the door.

He instantly regrets it when he does.

Tony’s expression is curious one as he breezes right passed Peter without waiting for further invitation. There’s a smudge of something dark on his brow, his otherwise white undershirt smeared in dark stains.

Peter watches incredulously as the other boy drops his backpack by the door with a thump.

“You’re late.”

He closes the door behind Tony and scowls at the other boys easy posture, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes taking in the apartment.

“I didn’t realise you lived all the way out in fucking Queens. Do you have any idea how bad traffic is at this time of day? Also, your elevator doesn’t work. I just climbed seven flights of stairs, where’s the hospitality?”

“Try earning it.”

The other boy rolls his eyes. “Like it’s worth my time.” He breezes past Peter and slides his leather jacket off his arms, tossing it atop of his backpack in the corner. “Look, I’m here now. Okay? You can unclench now. So, do I get a tour or what?”

“Or what. This wouldn’t have been an issue if we had just started straight after class like I said.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Tony clutches his hands to his heart before gesturing to the room. “I didn’t realise I was interrupting your busy Friday night, Parker. You got a keg and the rest of the meatheads stashed away somewhere?”

Without waiting for a response, Tony wanders around the living room like a curious child in a new play room. His gaze inspects everything all at once, from peering at up close at the wall mounted photos and hovering his grubby hands over the oddments and knick-knacks speckled throughout the space.

Apprehensive, Peter can’t help but shadow him, afraid he just let loose a hurricane in a china shop.

Without asking, Tony picks up May’s old Magic 8-Ball and gives it a good shake. Peter’s fingers itch to reach over and stop him, but stops himself because then that would require actually making direct skin contact the other boy.

Not worth it.

“Cannot predict now. Huh,” Tony says to himself before placing the ball back in the wrong spot.

They both watch silently as it rolls precariously close to the edge.

“Anyways,” Tony helps himself to an armchair, lounging back and spreading his legs wide. “I know your long-term memory is probably as defective as the rest of you, so don’t strain yourself recalling that I had other priorities.”

“Like what?”

“Like literally anything that isn’t being around you,” the other boy grins. “Now, are we doing this thing, or did you invite me over so you could bitch at me?”

“I didn’t invite you,” Peter grumbles, swiping his notebook from the dining table before sitting on the sofa, as far away from Stark as possible. Shifting, he takes his phone from his pocket and opens the notes he’d taken earlier.

“So, I cross referenced some websites and current job listings,” Peter scrolls through his research, adjusting his glasses as they slip down his nose. “Assuming you have no savings, we’re looking at an average of sixty-thousand per annum based on my salary alone. The average rent in --”

“-- Uh, why are we assuming I have no savings?”

"Because... we’re being realistic?”

Tony springs to his feet and paces across the living room.

“Well,” he says, gesturing to Peter, “if we’re being realistic, does having no savings also that mean I have no debt -- or are you paying off two student loans on your salary?”

“I don’t --”

“Do we have car loans? Health insurance?”

“Wait, slow your roll, Stark. I haven’t yet --”

“-- Of course you haven’t. I mean really, Parker, do you ever think ahead? You should try it, we do have a baby on the way, you know.” Tony clicks his fingers and points at Peter. “Oh, names! I want to call it Molly.”

“As in the drug?”

“No, as in Ringwald. Anyhoo, seeing as only one of us has the intellectual capacity to construct a budget,” Tony gestures to himself, “that would be me, consider maybe that I spent my savings paying off my student loans and bought a car for me and Miss Molly, leaving you with just your own stagnant debt. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” he says through clenched teeth, feeling utterly steamrolled. “But we’re not calling the baby Molly.”

“Yes, we are. Think of all the great nicknames. Hey wait,” Tony pauses in his pacing, “are your parents going to be home soon?”

It was in that moment Peters world narrows down to one, botched cosmic joke.

Turning his gaze heavenwards, Peter prays silently for mercy. What did he do to deserve this. This is all his bad karma come at once. This is the bad place.

“Ah, no,” he replies, eyes widening. “No, my parents are not going to be home soon.”

“Cool. Lucky you.”

Oblivious to Peter’s existential turmoil, Tony resumes his patrol through the living room, picking up a frame on the mantle. It houses an old photo of Ben, May and a young, bespectacled Peter.

It is one of the more embarrassing immortalisations of his younger self, eleven-years old and grinning widely, bearing his silver braces to the camera as he holds up a science fair trophy, curls wild and untamed.

Oh god. That was exactly what Peter needed on this unholy day - Tony Stark in his living room, witnessing Peter in his prepubescent glory.

Quick, create a diversion.

“So, as I was saying,” he says loudly, “rent is reasonably affordable with a sixty-thousand budget in --”

“Who’s the babe?” Tony points to a younger Aunt May in the photo.

Peter gets to his feet and removes the frame from Tony’s grasp. He glowers as he places it back on the mantle.

“No one you would have a chance with. Can you stay focused? Like, are you physically capable of it?”

“Okay, calm down,” Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “You’ve got a lot of anger for someone so vertically challenged, you know that, shortstack?”

“Focus, dumbass.”

“I’m focused! Let’s see, we’ve established that I am excellent at managing my money. You have a shitty job and a shitty salary, and apparently my imaginary future self has terrible taste in men. So. Have I got that right? Where are we living?”

“Queens. LIC has some one bed, one baths that could be affordable.”

“Uh, rewind. Going to have to eighty-six that - I am not living in Queens.”

Peter stares at him.

Tony rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “Fine, whatever. But I want a Pontiac Firebird in this imaginary life if I have to deal with you.”

“For someone so keen on getting away you’re doing your best to prolong this experience. It’s literally painful.”

“Well, I just like to see you get all riled up, Princess,” Tony grins, leaning back against the mantle and folding his arms over his chest. “You have this vein that bulges on your forehead when you’re mad. Makes you look like a pitbull.”

Peter swallows the particularly acidic retort sitting on his tongue and tries not to let Tony’s words sting. Be the bigger man, Ben used to say. As difficult as it is to channel even a modicum of the mans’ eternal patience, Peter takes a deep breath and reminds himself to stay focused. The less he gets sidetracked by Tony’s fuckery, the sooner it’s over.

He mentions the next part with unease.

“...Miss Ahn said that we need references and should do field research. Speak to realtors. Ask people who have a similar lifestyle and budget.”

The look that comes over the other boys face is one of unequivocal revulsion. Peter can relate. The thought of having to spend more time with this guy makes his stomach turn.

“Well, Parker, any bright ideas who we can ask?”

The hinges of the front door squeaks before Peter can respond.

Moments after, Aunt May walks into the living room, placing her bag down on the dining table. She looks between the two boys curiously.

“Hey, Pete,” she comes to his side to squeezes his shoulder. “Who do we have here?”

Tony rushes over with his hand outstretched, an eager grin on his face.

“Tony Stark, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, ah, okay, well,” May laughs as he enthusiastically shakes her hand. Her eyes are soft as Tony smiles brightly at her. “Nice to meet you too, Tony. I’m May, Peter’s aunt. Are you... friends with Peter?”

Peter snorts.

“Definitely not. We just have an assignment --”

“-- Great friends, actually,” Tony talks over him, taking a seat beside Peter on the sofa. To Peter’s utter disgust, the other boy puts an arm around his shoulders, squeezing his bicep encouragingly. “Aren’t we, Pete? Hmm? Best buds. We go way back.”

Peter freezes, feeling the line of heat from Tony’s against his side, the weight of his arm on his body.

Eyes widening, he feels his skin crawl.

“That’s sweet,” May smiles, putting her hair up in a loose, messy bun. “Well, I don’t know about you boys, but I’m starving. I’m ordering pizza, Friday special. You should stay for dinner, Tony.”

Tony places his free hand on his chest.

“I would be honoured.”

May looks at Tony strangely before retreating to the kitchen to retrieve the menus.

As soon as she’s out of sight Tony takes his arm off Peter and quickly shifts away from him like he’s been burned.

“Dude,” Peter whispers, bewildered. “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god,” Tony whispers, shuddering as his face scrunches up in disgust. “I’m going to have to pour scalding hot water on all the places your skin just touched me. Ugh, I feel like I just touched toe fungus.”

Peter slaps his arm.

“What is wrong with you?”

Tony backhands Peter’s arm in retaliation and then shudders all over again.

“Your aunt is crazy hot, okay, I couldn’t help myself. It was an instinctual reaction. Is she taken? C’mon. Vindicate me.”

“I’ll eviscerate you --”

“-- I mean, clearly she married into the family, she doesn’t share your unfortunate phenotype, but I didn’t see a ring on her finger. So? Yes or no?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Peter hisses as his aunt comes back in. “She’s not available to you. Not now, not ever.”

“But she is available?”

“Don’t even, Stark. You’re like, sixteen. Don’t you have any shame?”

Tony smiles, as she nears. “Not a shred.”

“So,” May waves a menu at them. “You boys happy with pepperoni?”

Closing his eyes, Peter wishes for death.

As fate would have it, he gets pepperoni instead.

-----

If you had ever told Peter that he would be sitting down for dinner with his Aunt and a dirt-streaked Tony Stark, he would have laughed.

And if Peter were outside himself he would probably find the sharing of pizza and soda over their plastic, chequered table-cloth comical -- in that uncanny, Dogs Playing Poker kind of way. But in reality there was nothing funny about the discomfort of having Tony in his personal space or the heavy, suffocating tension that has removed the air from the room.

The entire time Tony has been hamming it up, cracking jokes with his aunt, complimenting her on the decor, asking what she does for work. Peter doesn’t know if he’s being sweet to May for the purpose of buttering her up, or, given the wealth of his family in contrast to the Parkers, if he’s being cruelly facetious.

Nonetheless, Peter has felt on edge. It’s disconcerting, is what it is. Every single movement Tony makes, every time he opens his mouth -- frequently to sweet-talk his aunt -- has Peter’s anxiety standing at attention, hyperaware of everything the other boy does.

He’s beginning to feel like a meerkat whose den has been invaded by a lion.

Through the course of a single meal Peter’s attention moves from the sky to the floor. There is no grace or higher power that is coming to save him from this profound, unusual torture.

So he focuses his hopes to the south, seeing through their tiny, cramped, dinner table, past bargaining. He’s willing to trade his soul to end it all. Surely some wayward being from hell would come to his rescue.

May has Peter’s chin between her fingers. She turns it this way and that, inspecting his injuries.

“What happened this time, bubby?” She frowns, brow furrowing. “You look like you got beat up.”

Peter, very aware of Tony’s amused gaze on them, gently pulls away from her grasp. He smiles placatingly and picks at his pizza slice. God he’s never going to live this down.

“Training accident. It’s okay, I feel fine. ‘Tis but a scratch,” he brings himself to joke.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

She leans in to kiss his cheek, carefully avoiding the fresh scabs and injured flesh. “God, you bruise like a peach. Be careful, baby, you’re our money maker,” she laughs. “What about you Tony, do you play football?”

Tony, who is mid way through chewing on a mouthful of pizza, momentarily chokes, beating his chest with his fist to swallow down the obstruction.

“Uh, no,” Tony gulps, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Nope. No recreational sports for me. Can’t.” He gestures to his chest and sighs heavily. “Asthma.”

Peter sips his coke and rolls his eyes, knowing full well there’s a half-empty pack of Marlboro Light’s in the pocket of Tony’s jeans. Asthma. What a schmuck.

“That’s a shame. Do you boys have classes together?”

Unfortunately, Peter thinks.

The other boy seems to have the same thought, as he glares at Peter from over the table. When he picks up his can of coke, he gives Peter the finger outside of May’s eye-line.

“That’s why Tony’s here,” Peter twists his napkin in his grip. “We have an econ assignment together on microeconomics. Teach says Tony’s destined to be on welfare.”

Tony leans in, chin rested on his hand. He addresses May but his stare, dark and odious, rests on Peter.

“Not accurate. Stay-at-home parent, actually. One might say that is the most important job of all. Wouldn’t you agree, May?”

She raises her Coke.

“Hear, hear.”

Tony grins roguishly, the same grin he gave the girls at the lockers earlier. “Petey here was just saying that we should ask you about your experience running a household on a single salary. We’d love to have you as a reference.”

“Was I saying that?” Peter narrows his eyes. “I can’t remember.”

Tony kicks him under the table. The hit lands right in his knee cap.

Wincing, Peter kicks back, satisfied when the other boy bites his lip to hold back a pained groan.

“Yeah, well, not surprising,” Tony says airily, waving his hand. “Hit your head today, didn’t you? Maybe you should get all that damage looked into.”

The napkin rips in Peter’s grasp.

“Maybe you should go f--”

“I’d be more than happy to help with your assignment, boys,” May cuts in.

Whatever snide reply he has in his mouth instantly wilts when he looks over to his Aunt. She looks...pleased. Delighted, almost. Her eyes under the dull, yellow kitchen light seem to get warmer, and her smile is small but softens around the edges.

Instantly, Peter feels like the worst person in the world. Of course May would be the best person to ask. She does so much for him, the least he can do is set his pride aside for one moment to make her feel good about how hard she works for their life.

He reaches over to squeeze her hand, smiling as gratitude swells unexpectedly in his chest.

“Thanks, May. That would be great.”

Across the table, a smug Tony looks like the cat who got the cream.

Without warning, Peter’s chest goes hot with contempt, his fingernails dig into his palm. He’s not sure he’s ever met anyone he couldn’t like, until now.

I hate you, Peter mouths while May busies herself with rounding up the pizza boxes.

Kiss my ass, Tony mouths back.

In an instant his expression flips from contemptuous to angelic when he stands and offers to help May clean up.

Peter stands too, sparing a disdainful glance to the floor. Turns out not even the devil was willing to give him a hand.

Natasha was right. It’s going to end in murder.

---

Peter walks Tony to the door after dinner to say goodbye to his ‘friend’. Following him into the hall, Peter closes the door behind them.

“What do you want, Parker?” Tony asks wearily, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket. “I’m trying to make a getaway here.”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t do that with my aunt. I’m not joking, asshole. It’s not cool.”

“Relax, princess,” Tony rolls his eyes, fishing for his lighter in his backpack. “I’m not actually interested. Just trying to get under your skin. Worked, see? You’re easy like that. Hey, why do you live with your aunt anyways?”

“None of your business,” he frowns as Tony holds one hand up in surrender and lights his cigarette with the other. “Dude, you can’t smoke in here.”

“Can’t, shouldn’t, gonna. By the way, you’ve got sauce on your chin, it’s very distracting.”

Peter wipes at it without thinking. When he pulls it away there is indeed a smear of red sauce on his hand.

Tony walks backwards down the hall and exhales a cloud of smoke, waving in a sardonic imitation of a farewell.

“See you Monday, bubby.”

Peter doesn’t bother with a response, too tired from the week, exhausted by this whole darn day, and it’s not like the other boy cares what he has to say anyway. He takes a moment to swallow his anger before he heads back inside, sighing.

Well, at least he has an entire weekend free of Stark to look forward to.

May looks at him curiously when he reemerges, but says nothing. He considers for a moment about heading to his bedroom and playing a video game to disassociate - but then, suddenly, remembers her smile earlier, and how alone she looks now. A surge of affection hits him right beneath his breastbone.

He checks his watch and then catches her eye. Tilting his head towards the living room, he says, “Hey. You wanna eat some ice cream and watch some Colbert before bed?”

She smiles just like she did earlier and kisses his cheek. “Sounds nice, Pete.”

Maybe the whole day wasn’t lost.

As May heads to the sofa and switches the TV on, Peter catches sight of the Magic 8-Ball from the corner of his eye. He walks over and gives it a shake.

Outlook good.

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @muse-of-gods

#starker #ironspider #high school au #enemies to lovers

330 notes · View notes

roscoe-dream · 4 years

Text

Science Partners || Peter Parker

A/N: this fic gives me major peter & mj vibes.. also, in order to write this i had to do a lot of google searching to get somewhat accurate information on how peter makes his web shooters!!

word count: 1872

WARNINGS: none :)

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

Ever since you transferred to Midtown High for your sophomore year of high school, you found yourself lacking something that was considered vital to your high school experience — friends.

You weren’t shy, just that most people didn’t seem to spark your interest enough to start a friendship and although you didn’t mind being by yourself, you always wondered what it would be like to have one or two friends to talk to in a few classes, or at lunch. Something other than sitting with the librarian who often sent you pity glances when she thought you weren’t looking, you always caught them though.

You only seemed to be completely content with not having someone tap at your shoulder to whisper something to you while the teacher spoke in one class — chemistry. The love for science you had was overwhelming, you absorbed every ounce of information given to you in each lesson, but of course, you knew bits and pieces of what was being spoken.

“So!” The teacher clapped her hands together to bring your class’s attention to the front. “For the remainder of the period, you all will continue our stoichiometry lesson in groups of two, which will be your lab partners, on the relationship between moles and mass with the today’s experiment. The guide is already taped to your tables.” She announced, eyes scanning over the students who quickly began working on the lab assignment before stilling on you. “Y/N, I know you enjoy working on your own, but I would like for you to join Peter for this assignment.”

Your eyes bulged at the mention of his name. Peter. As in Peter Parker. As in the boy you’ve had a silly little crush on since you started school at Midtown. It wasn’t anything serious, you’ve never spoken to him, but you always thought he was cute — and incredibly intelligent, which was a plus. Swallowing thickly, you scooped up your things from your lab table and shuffled towards the front lab stations, where Peter was located. It was almost as though he was in his own little world, unaware of the fact that the teacher had paired the two of you up together as he scribbled in his notebook. “Excuse me.” You muttered to catch his attention, placing your notebooks on the edge of the table to avoid touching any of Peter’s papers that were sprawled out all over. “Hi.”

His head snapped up in your direction, hand now still instead of writing, and blinked in surprise. You let your gaze drifted down to his papers that were covering what was now your side of the table. “H-Hi. Oh,” Peter gasped, hands reaching out to quickly clear the lab table of his papers. “I’m sorry.” He murmured sheepishly, his cheeks taking up a pale pink color.

“That’s okay, you’re fine.” You dismissed him, sliding into the stool and setting your bag on the floor, looking over the instructions for the lab. A smile appeared on your face once you finished reading and you looked over to Peter, who’s eyes were already on you expectantly. “This lab is fairly easy,” You said, grabbing ahold of your pencil and writing both of your names onto the given worksheet. “We just need to compare the theoretical values to the actual experimental mass once we react the sodium hydrogen with the hydrochloric acid.”

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks when you caught a glimpse at Peter’s stunned expression. His lips curled into an impressed grin before laughing lightly, a teasing tone in his voice when he said, “You sound like you know what you’re doing.”

A let out a few chuckles while turning to face him, a bashful look on your face. “I, uh- I just really love science.” You shrugged, although you made that fact very clear to him with your ramble. “I can work on this while you work on whatever you were before.” You offered, eyes trained on your paper while you calculated the formulas from the lab guide. You were already halfway through, managing to hold your conversation with Peter while getting the work done. Your head shook in disbelief at the thought, you were actually talking to him, not snagging sly glances at him from the back of class or in the hallways. It felt good.

Peter immediately declined, closing his notebook and leaning in closer in attempt to try and help you with the lab. “No, no, it’s fine! It’s nothing anyway.” He insisted, but you watched as his fingers were tapping against the wooden tabletop, itching to go back to writing in his notebook. You scoffed, setting down your pencil and putting the now completed worksheet to the side, crossing your arms over the table. “Yeah, right. Besides, the work is done, so maybe I could help?” You suggested, lips quirking into a smile that he nervously returned.

The brunette opened his mouth, stammering on his own words as he tried to figure out what the tell you. He couldn’t exactly say that he was working on a new web fluid formula for the shooters in his suit, because that would be doing the most irrational thing — exposing himself as spiderman to a girl he barely knew. Peter chewed on his bottom lip as he weighed out the pros and cons of you helping him figure out what he was missing in his formula. You’ve proven yourself to be incredibly smart, and quick when it comes to figuring out formulas.

He eventually nodded, cracking a smile that you eagerly returned. “Okay. Okay, yeah.” He agreed hesitantly, pulling his composition notebook from his side of the desk and in between the both of you. When opening the book, your eyes widened at the multiple formulas scribbled on the lined paper, some crossed out and others not, with the title of the page being ‘Web Fluid’

“‘Web Fluid?’” You read aloud, looking up from the page and to Peter, who was shifting about in his stool, bottom lip worried between his teeth. He felt his heart plummet to his stomach when your eyes narrowed at his anxious state. She knows, Peter thought underneath your suspicious stare. He opened his mouth to try and form some sort of excuse until you interrupted him to ask, “Are you into cosplay?”

It was safe to say that your question caught Peter off guard, with the way that his eyes practically popped out of his head and his cheeks flushed in what seemed like embarrassment. You couldn’t help but laugh at him, the thought of Peter actually being into cosplay and wearing a makeshift spiderman suit made your smile grow larger — it would be too cute.

Peter’s slacked jaw tightened to a grin as he watched you laugh, laughing a little himself and heart warming at the sound. He thought you had a beautiful laugh.

“What?! No, I’m not- I’m not into cosplay!” He cried, though the grin on his face didn’t fade, and neither did yours once your laughter died down. Peter shoved the notebook further into your direction and pointed to the unfinished equation. “Can you just help me, please?”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you slid the notebook in front of you, looking over his scribbles. You let out a hum while writing over some equations, brows raising at his overall impressive work. “I know what you’re missing,” You scooted your stool closer to Peter and tilted the page in his direction so he could see what parts of the formula you tweaked. “Whatever Spider-man’s webs are made out of, is relatively close to nylon. Flexible and durable. So since you don’t want to bring nylon to your cosplay parties,” You paused, giving him a pointed look, a few giggles following shortly when he sent you a playful glare. “You need to figure out a component mixture that that forms a tough, flexible fiber when it contacts air, yet doesn’t interfere with the foaming agent it mixes with for the inflation capacity you’re using here.”

You inhaled deeply, catching up on the amount of air you lost from explaining your theory and giving yourself a brief nod of approval before meeting Peter’s gaze. Feeling the blood rush back to your face once again, you couldn’t help but notice the way his brown eyes were swirling with something — admiration. “What?” You asked shyly, your hand finding its way to your face in attempt to cool down your heated skin. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Peter’s face held a dazed smile, dark brown eyes gone soft, and his chin was in the palm of his hand as he propped his elbow on the table. He looked straight out of a rom-com — and you really liked it. He simply shrugged, brown locks bouncing slightly at the movement.

“You’re really—”

Pretty. Peter had the urge to say pretty.

“Smart.”

Your lips parted to speak, but the shrilling sound of the bell cut in on you, signaling your lunch period. You slouched in your seat, not wanting to leave chemistry — not wanting to leave Peter. It was the most interaction you’ve gotten in a while, that was actually enjoyable, with someone you really liked and you didn’t want it to end. When you looked to the teenage boy next to you, he was wearing a similar solemn expression.

As you began to collect your stuff and shrug on your backpack, Peter’s hand quickly reached out to grasp your arm, making you almost immediately stop in your tracks. Turning on your head, you were met with Peter’s wary gaze and nervous smile.

“Do you- Do you want to go to lunch with me?” Peter asked, his thumb jutting over his shoulder towards the direction of the cafeteria, rocking on the back of his heels. You found yourself beaming at his invite, laughing lightly at how flustered he was. Deciding to have a little fun, you raised a teasing brow, asking, “Why?”

Instantly, Peter’s nerves visibly worsened, his hands going to grip on the straps of his backpack as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “To, you know, help with the web-cosplay-thing?” His voice rushed and raised barely an octave at the end, his lips then pursing in regret at his choice of words when your face lit up with amusement.

“So you admit it? You’re into cosplay?” You asked eagerly, a laugh threaded in your words that made Peter’s shoulders seemingly relax. He let out a noise similar to a whine, throwing his head back while taking a few short steps in the direction all the other students in the hallway were going. “I’m not into cosplay, Y/N! Do you want to go with me or not?”

The smug smile on your face waved into a gracious one, and when your playful teasing was finally put to rest, your heart swelled at the settling reality — Peter wanted to spend more time with you, outside of the chemistry lab.

So, readjusting the books in your arms, you sent Peter a nod, catching up to his retreating figure and nudging your elbow against his arm with a crooked smile.

“Lead the way, Parker.”

#tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland spiderman #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland #peter parker fluff #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #spiderman imagine #mcu spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #tom holland fic

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twokinkybeans · 4 years

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Four Times Peter’s Radioactivity Worked Against Him and the One Time It Worked In His Favor [STARKER]

Summary: Now that Peter is radioactive, his surroundings start responding to him. And he starts to respond to his surroundings differently as well. His newfound infatuation with bananas are a difficult thing for Tony to deal with. Note: there is a snippet of science-y truth in what I wrote, but I also took major creative liberty with what happens. Warnings/tags: Food kink, Praise kink, Dom/Sub undertones, Subspace, Under-negotiated kink, Teasing, Dirty Talk, “For science” sure Tones, Implied Blowjob, BANANAS! (also Peter is an adult when the sexy things happen). Read it on AO3!

Four Times Peter’s Radioactivity Worked Against Him 1. Tick Tock It’s been three days since Peter Parker got his spider powers. He’s still trying to get a hang of everything, but at least he’s got his stickiness under control. Everything is just so loud and so intense. Constantly. The sensory overload has made him cranky to say the least, but it’s not like he can just skip school. With the sweaty, yelling students, screeching chalkboards and itchy PE uniforms. Not to mention the school bell. The anticipation practically hurts as much as the shrill ringing in his ears does. Another sound that has shivers run up and down Peter’s spine is Flash’s voice. “Check out my new watch!” He announces to the class as he saunters in, wrist raised to the ceiling. He grins, showing off the expensive piece of technology. Peter doesn’t know why but the device has his eye twitch. He stands up confused and walks over to Flash, drawn by the watch, somehow. “What brand is it?“ He asks innocently. “Wow, didn’t think it’d catch your attention, Penis,” Flash scoffs. “Gucci. Nothing you could ever afford.” “Huh…” Peter frowns, unable to look away from Flash’s wrist. His eyes go wide when he notices the arms are shaking slightly. Are they supposed to do that? “I know, it’s pretty rad. Even glows in the dark!” Flash turns to Ned, who just walked into the classroom. “Ned, turn off the lights!” Ned pulls a face but moves to turn off the light anyways, but when it’s dark in the classroom, no light comes from Flash’s wrist. “It- It works, I swear!” Flash taps the glass three times. “Stupid fucking watch.” With Flash’s limited patience, it doesn’t take long for him to rip it off and toss it away from him. Peter’s newfound reflexes cause him to catch it mid-air, but the second his skin makes contact with the watch, a bright flash of light makes everyone in the room cover their eyes and scream. ... 2. Emergency Exit Peter has no idea when he started eating bananas so much. There’s just something about them that tastes absolutely amazing. How did he never realize this earlier? The fruit is now part of his daily diet now. They give him enough energy to run around school and as Spider-Man, so he’s not complaining. At least he’s not addicted to sugar or hamburgers, right? Peter munches on his second banana of the day when the fire alarm stirs the school. All the lights go out. Peter looks up at the ceiling, but he doesn’t feel any alarm. He’s learned he can rely on his gut way better now, with his spider powers, so this must be a test. He quickly stands up, though, not wanting to seem disinterested in the fact that there was an evacuation going on. The emergency exit sign lights the way to safety for all the students. Peter runs towards the fire escape and stops, wanting to make sure everyone else gets to run out first. Above him, the escape sign starts flickering. He looks up at it and frowns, wondering why now of all times it decided to give out. Maybe that’s why this test was happening? To see which emergency lights still worked? Once all of the students are out of the cafeteria, Peter leaves too. When there’s a bit of distance between him and the door, he looks back and notices the light works properly again. ... 3. Thrifted TV It’s been over half a year since Peter has last gone to the thrift store. He’s very excited to get some new-old stuff to tinker with. Ben’s death and him becoming Spider-Man put a damper on his hobbies. He was able to make his goggles and web shooters with the scrap he still had lying around, but now he’s in desperate need of some new-old stuff. The thrift store is creaky and dusty. Exactly the way Peter used to like it. Now everything just tickles his nose. Still, he can’t help the feeling of nostalgia curling around him like a weighted blanket on a cold winter’s day. Peter snakes through the clutter filled paths, keeping an eye out for hidden gems. “Peter Parker!” “Hi, Mister Cheung!” Peter smiles politely at the thrift store owner. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Thought you moved on to another shop.” The old man shuffles away from behind the counter and folds his hands together. “Wouldn’t dare, sir! You’re my go-to for old tech.” Peter glances around a table and picks up a few items to study them up close. “That’s good to hear, boy. What’s your latest project? Anything you need? Maybe I can hook you up with the right stuff!” Mister Cheung grins and excitedly bops his head side to side. “My latest project is- eh…” Peter glances down at his hands, hiding his web shooters a little more in the sleeves of his sweater. “Something for school, actually. Nothing too interesting, to be honest. Do you happen to have an old TV lying around?” “Just one, but yes! Follow me, follow me!” Mister Cheung excitedly makes his way to the back corner of his store. “This ol’ Philips still works!” He pats it proudly, with his flat palm. “Though, I don’t think you need it to work, do you?” “Nah, there’s just one part that I really need, honestly. If you’d rather sell it to someone who-“ Peter takes a step closer and the TV suddenly starts to tick loudly. Mister Cheung takes a startled step away from it and Peter gasps. His yet-to-be-named sixth sense buzzes every part of him, so he quickly jumps towards Mister Cheung, and closer to the TV. It ticks louder and louder, as a warning of something that’s about to happen. Peter shields the shop owner with his body at exactly the right moment. A loud bang thrashes through the store and something hits Peter’s back. When everything seems to be over, Peter steps away from Mister Cheung. “Sir, are you okay?” The corners of the man’s mouth curl down, but he nods. “Are you?” “Something big tapped my back, but I’m fine,” Peter says with an encouraging smile. He turns around to see a large chunk of the TV on the floor behind him. Any regular person would’ve gotten floored by that. He decides not to mention that to Mister Cheung, hoping he doesn’t notice. He looks back at the wreckage again and frowns. He squats next to it and wonders what’s drawing him towards it. Peter rummages around it for a bit and pulls out a specific piece. The CRT. “That what you need?” Mister Cheung asks quietly as he looks around the corner of the store. More items got destroyed in the process. Peter feels bad for him- for what happened. Especially once it finally clicks. CRTs emit low levels of radiation. “Not exactly, but…” He looks back again at the mess that was caused by the explosion. “Let me help you clean up.” ... 4. Wet shoes Peter never dared to dream of being in the Avengers Tower. More specifically, he never dared to dream of being allowed in Tony Stark’s lab. To work with him. On whatever project. Peter didn’t really care what they were going to work on, the invitation in and of itself already had Peter nearly puking with excited anxiety. Right now, he was being guided through the hallways by the hero he looked up to ever since he could remember. “Right, so-“ Tony explain as he carelessly points around the space as he talks. “You’re still too much of a young sprite so we’re not letting you up to the penthouse just yet. You’ve got clearance to most of the labs, though. I trust you know your way around them.” Peter somehow manages to listen both super intently and not at all. He stares straight at the back of Tony’s perfect hair with wide, wonder-filled eyes. “-if that’s alright with you. And then this…” Tony stops walking and gestures at a closed door. “…is where all the magic happens.” If Peter’s grin could grow any wider, it would have. He bounces from his left to his right foot and with an encouraging nod from his mentor, Peter moves to open the door. In Peter’s mind, a bright, inviting light shines upon him and an angel choir sings. This is everything Peter imagined it would be and more. Slowly, he sets one foot in the room, taking in the space and its contents. The desks and holo-table. The little kitchen area in the corner and the robots. Oh, the robots! And the cars on display! And the older Iron Man suits in the other corner! Peter is about ready to throw up for real. He takes another step into the room and then… There’s a loud, insistent alarm blaring through Tony Stark’s workshop and before Peter can turn around to rush out, the door shuts on him. “Woah!” Tony exclaims from the other side. “Kid, that’s the fire alarm! Barn door protocol! Everything’s fine, just don’t be startled when-“ The sprinklers turn on. Peter yelps surprised at the amount of water hitting his body and within seconds he is absolutely soaked. After a minute, the sprinklers stop and the door gets unlocked. The blaring of the fire-alarm is still going. Tony walks in, absolutely confused as to what’s going on and he finds a shivering Peter, hugging himself as all the water drips down his body, making the puddle on the floor even larger. Lucky for Tony, all of his stuff in this room is water proof and the cars were separated by glass. “Fri, was there actually a fire?” “No, sir, the smoke detectors were activated. Something is interfering with its signal.” “Is?” “Yes, sir. Is.” Tony glances at Peter and sniffs once, wondering what made the detector tick when Peter walked in. “Can you source it?” “It’s Peter Parker, sir.” The AI replies dryly. Peter scoffs out loud, causing Tony to look at him surprised. “How sensitive are your detectors?” The teen asks. There’s a slight edge to his tone and Tony doesn’t know what to think of it just yet. “Quite. More than regular ones, at least. Fri, please lower the sensitivity of the detectors.” Almost immediately, the incessant beeping stops. “Are you telling me this happened before?” Tony puts his hands on his hips as he walks towards the kitchen to grab Peter a few towels. “I only learned this a little while ago, but…” Peter sighs and turns. “The spider that bit me was radioactive and ever since that happened some devices respond strangely to me.” His eyebrows raise up to his hairline. “Do your smoke detectors happen to be the kind that have americium-241 in them?” “Well, yes, but-“ Tony interrupts himself, scoffing a laugh when he realizes why Peter asked. “That stuff’s radioactive too.” “Slightly, but yeah. Made an old TV explode, emergency exit signs become faulty when I’m near them, it’s annoying. Did you know ceramics are slightly radioactive? I’ve had old plates snap the second I touched them!” “Fri, give Peter a scan, please.” --- The One Time It Worked In His Favor Bananaddiction It’s been about eight years now and Peter practically lived in Tony’s workshop at this point. They are so in tune they barely have to talk anymore. When they do talk, nobody else can keep up with them Bruce could if he put in the effort, but then, it also takes a lot of effort. So he doesn’t usually join conversations unless the topic genuinely interests him. Peter is now completely comfortable in the workshop and around Tony. His teenage crush on his mentor might be gone, but that doesn’t mean there are no feelings left. They are now more deeply rooted inside him. More solid. Real. It’s no longer as fleeting as the puppy love he felt when he was younger. He was glad his younger self was never stupid enough to act upon his obsession with the older man, but now they are so in sync that if you told a stranger the two tinkerers are married, they would believe you. Unfortunately, Peter is painfully aware the older man would never want him in the way Peter wants Tony. He still calls Peter kid, even though Peter’s well in his twenties now. Everything about Tony’s behaviour screams at Peter that he really is just Tony’s mentee. Nothing more. And that hurts. There’s one obsession Peter still has. His extreme and undeniable love and craving for bananas. Something about it made Peter feel a little self-conscious. So, he only ever eats one in the labs. The others that he eats during the day are incorporated in his breakfast and during late night patrols. Peter never really cared to figure out why bananas are so absolutely, insanely delicious and he doesn’t want any of his now-colleagues to think he’s weird. So, his bananaddiction is a secret. Up until now. “Hey, kid,” Tony says from his seat. He’s bent over some file work as Peter walks into the workshop and tosses his backpack in a corner. “How was uni?” “Boring. Still fourteen classes ahead of everybody else.” “Good for you.” As sarcastic as it may sound, Peter can take it from Tony. He knows Tony is genuinely proud of Peter for performing so well, as it also means Peter gets to spend a lot of time in the workshop that way too. It only takes a split second for Peter’s eye to twitch and his body practically guides him to the fruit bowl in the corner kitchen like a Looney Toons character would float towards a good smelling dish. His lips are pressed together as he stares at the yellow gold in the bowl. Twelve bananas. Twelve wonderful, beautiful, delicious bananas were right there waiting for Peter to devour them. “Noticed you eat bananas literally every day, so I figured I’d indulge. Saves you some money too, since you’re still on a student budget,” Tony huffs, quietly referencing the fact that Peter still doesn’t want to get paid more than necessary for his work. Peter’s eyes are stuck on the bananas as he contemplates how many he should eat with Tony around. Not many. Not three. Maybe not even two. Maybe two? One. Definitely. Peter practically lunges forward as he takes a banana from the bowl and gratefully makes his way to Tony’s desk to have a look at what the older hero is up to. He cocks his head to read the paper. “Still working through the amendments for the Accords?” “World leaders are frustrating people, Parker.” As Tony talks, Peter strips the banana of its peel. He wraps his lips around it instantly and closes his eyes when the familiar taste hits his tongue. His eyes open wide when he realizes he just moaned. Tony’s entire body is tensed up, the ball point pen clenched between his fingers. He doesn’t look at Peter and the young adult silently hopes the man will ignore what just happened. Thankfully, he does. After an hour, the banana bowl already calls to Peter again. Like a siren on the shores or the Dark Side of the Force. The temptation is excruciating and annoyingly distracting. When Peter only had his one banana on him, there were no other bananas left to eat. It was easier to think of other things. Right now, with the other eleven bananas still waiting for Peter to stuff his throat with them, there was no telling when he’d snap. He takes a breath. And another one. He can get through this. He’s strong. He won’t break. He won’t eat another banana. “Pete, this is your fourth banana, are you okay?” Peter’s lips are still wrapped around what’s left of the third banana he didn’t mean to eat. Okay, so maybe he was weak. For bananas, at least. With big eyes, he looks up at Tony, who now stands next to him, from his desk seat. The man’s pupils are dilated and it’s only when Peter realizes what he must look like with his cheeks stuffed with banana and his lips half suckling on the length, that he looks down to see Tony’s very obvious hard-on. Peter scrambles to take the rest of the banana out of his mouth, but unfortunately for him, it makes a wet popping sound, causing Tony to curse under his breath. “I- I weally wike bananas, m-sowwy-“ Tony blinks at Peter. Once. Twice. Something about the shift in his expression makes Peter imagine a little bulb lighting up above Tony’s head. “Potassium.” Peter quickly swallows away the delectable fruit. “Wha-?” “Bananas are radioactive, Pete. You eat them because you- well…” “I vibe with them?” “Yeah, I guess you could put it like that.” Tony takes a step back and scratches his goatee. The man then turns to walk back to his desk. “Just… Just don’t eat too many a day, alright?” Peter swallows again and then nods. “I’ll try,” he replies sheepishly, a lopsided smile plastered on his face. It’s nearing 2AM and Peter is trying really hard not to grab his sixth banana. He already informed Tony that the fifth one would be his last. He can’t go back on that now. He curses his high metabolism, because he is actually hungry. There are a ton of other things in the kitchen to munch on, but his mind and his cravings still gravitate towards the yummy bananas. “Do you want me to get the stuff out of here?” Tony snorts. “You’re obviously not focussed because of them.” Peter sighs and drops himself back against his chair. “Mister Stark, it’s just so good. I can’t explain it.” A sly grin grows on Tony’s face. “Try me. For scientific purposes, of course.” Peter stares at the ceiling. When he opens his mouth to speak, Tony immediately interrupts him again. “Wait-“ Peter sits up straight to watch Tony walk towards the kitchen area. He takes one banana from the batch and tosses it at Peter who easily catches it. The fruit seems to vibrate in Peter’s hand, but that might just be his imagination. Tony grabs a chair and pulls it closer towards Peter, until he sits down right across from him, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I’m really curious how it is for you,” Tony admits. “To me it’s just a banana.” Peter faux gasps. “Just a banana?” He then smirks. “Oh, you wound me.” “Go on, kid, tell me.” Both of them laugh as Peter starts peeling the banana, already infatuated with it again. It’s a long one this time, at least nine inches. “Do you… Do you know that feeling that you get when you haven’t eaten something in a while and then you put something in that taste absolutely divine?” Peter’s mouth salivates as his eyes are still glued to the yellow fruit. “The little orgasm-in-your-mouth kinda feel?” Peter barely notices how Tony’s voice is a little lower. Darker. As a reply, Peter only nods slightly. “Every bite.” “Sounds intense.” “It is.” Peter’s lips part as he brings the length closer to his mouth. He sniffs once. “The smell tickles my nose. And… And the way it sits in my hand, the… The stiffness and the girth of it.” Peter wets his lips, breathing coming out in shorter pants. He can feel Tony’s eyes on him. Studying him intently. The man is slowly inching closer and closer, as if there is only a little bit of oxygen left in the room and it’s right between the two of them. “And then, when I put it in my mouth- when it hits my tongue, I just-“ “You ride a high,” Tony whispers. Peter still stares at the banana, half surprised with his self-control. He would’ve stuffed his face way earlier if he didn’t have Tony’s eyes on him like this. “Feels so good,” Peter mumbles. “Tastes so good.” “What do you do then?” Tony’s voice is so close to him, right next to him. Peter didn’t know when Tony had pulled the chair close enough for him to practically graze his lips past the shell of Peter’s ear. He gasps quietly when Tony’s warm hand finds its resting place on Peter’s thigh. “Like to wrap my lips around it,” Peter answers breathlessly. “Suckle on it.” “Suckle on it.” Tony’s reply doesn’t even sound like a repetition of what Peter said. It sounds like an order. Peter does as told and immediately moans when the fruit hits his tongue again. “That’s it, kid.” A shiver runs down Peter’s spine. Peter can hear Tony’s heartbeat and how it quickens. Can feel how the blood is racing downstairs for the both of them. Was this actually happening? Maybe Tony did want him? Everything that’s happening right now, sure points in that direction. “Keep going further down, Pete…” Tony encourages softly. His other hand makes its way to Peter’s back, gently massaging through his shirt. “Show me how far you can take it.” Peter sucks on the banana, letting his tongue run circles and stripes over the length. His eyes are shut and he pushes further and further until he feels it hit the back of his throat. “Oh,” Tony groans. “Perfect.” The hand on Peter’s back creeps up into his hair and clutches it tight. It starts guiding Peter to bob his head around the fruit and Peter can’t help but grin. Tony wants this. Him. Definitely. Thank you, bananaddiction. “You got a hand left, Pete.” Tony’s soft voice rumbles through Peter’s entire being, making the experience of the banana even better. “Why don’t you have a feel for how hard your nipples are, huh? I can see them through your shirt…” Peter complies, pushing his free hand under his shirt and crawling up until- OH! He moans and rolls his hips in tune with how he rolls the sensitive bud between his fingers. His eyes roll back and he doubles his efforts to feel even better. Peter sighs around the banana as it slowly falls apart on his tongue. It’s even more sublime now that Tony is helping him, steering him, forcing him. “Good boy,” Tony whispers, placing a gentle kiss behind Peter’s ear. The young man’s hips buck involuntarily in their chair but Tony’s hand that’s still on his thigh squeezes to keep him in place. Peter gasps at the pull at his hair and the hand moves to cup his balls through his jeans. Every part of Peter is on fire right now. “Nearly there…” Tony is right. Peter’s cock pulses with the need to release. He nearly has all of the banana in his mouth now and it’s not long before his right hand drops the empty peel to the floor. “Now…” Tony whispers. “Swallow.” Peter whimpers and does as told, automatically opening his mouth wide and sticking out his tongue when all of the banana has disappeared into his stomach. “Oh,” Tony coos, taking his hand out of Peter’s hair to push his thumb down on Peter’s tongue. “So beautiful…” Peter has already forgotten how to talk. His mind is swimming with lust. Want. Need. Tony takes back his hand, but Peter doesn’t see it. He still has his eyes closed, after all, relishing in the aftertaste of the banana. A soft whine escapes his lips when the hand that was gently massaging his clothed cock also disappears. However, when Peter half-opens his eyes, his smile immediately returns. In front of him, hard and aching, dripping precum, swaying and twitching, is Tony Stark’s cock. Something he had only imagined up until now as he jerked himself off in bed. Tony’s fingers curl around the shaft and stroke a few times. His other hand finds its way back into Peter’s hair. The man playfully guides Peter to follow his cock left and right. Absentmindedly, Peter opens his mouth, letting his tongue roll out in an attempt to lap at Tony’s dick. Every time just a little too far away to be successful. “Want it, Peter? You want it, don’t you?” Peter nods in Tony’s tight grip. “So hungry for cock, yet you probably don’t even realize…” Peter frowns slightly, unsure of what Tony is aiming for. “When you get off, Petey, do you eat your own cum?” The question takes Peter off guard, but he’s taken back to every single time he was in his bed, mindlessly lapping at his fingers during the afterglow. “Do you?” Peter nods again, smiling dreamily. His half open eyes still follow Tony’s hard cock in front of him. “Every time,” he manages to moan out. “So good…” “Not just addicted to bananas then?” Tony chuckles. “Bet you’re also infatuated with cum. With the taste- the feel of it when it hits your tongue.” Peter gasps, his own cock twitching and leaking in his now way-too-tight pants. “Such a slut for it, aren’t you? I know why…” Peter lets his head be pulled back until he looks Tony straight in the eye. The man grins and licks his lips, inching closer until the tip of his dick rests on Peter’s cheek as a promise that Peter will get what he wants soon enough. Tony grins wickedly. “There’s also potassium in cum, you know?”

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