#also there are so may spiders here they are driving me insane
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𝑩𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝑴𝒆
A/N: Hey hey y'all! 👋🏾 Long time no Miguel huh? Well, to remedy that, I've got here a shorty, but a goodie. I've named her Bite Me, and you'll see why as you read. I hope y'all enjoy, and feel free to share your thoughts and send in more Miguel related asks, provided you read my rules first. Ok, and again I say, enjoy! 😁
❥︎ 𝑮𝒊𝒈𝒊 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒊 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕
You had a bad habit of getting on Miguel’s nerves.
Not that you were necessarily trying.
At least, not all the time, or even most of the time.
Is what you say. But Miguel knows better.
He knows that you may or may not-so-secretly enjoy setting him off. And it’s not even always in the words you say, although those can be particularly infuriating.
It’s in the way you sashay around him, curves and dips on full display. It’s in the way you touch him, gentle yet teasing. A “comforting” hand on his shoulder, that slowly but surely begins to trail downward, resting just on the small of his back.
Which for Miguel, is particularly sensitive.
To sum up, you're driving Miguel insane.
He’s always especially on the verge of losing it when he sees you interacting with the other spider people around the complex.
You’re so friendly and jovial, always offering to help and lending a hand whenever anyone needs something.
This is undoubtedly a good thing, and Jess always comments on how nice it is to have a go getter like you on the team.
She’s right, and your propensity for helpfulness would be fine…
If you didn’t insist on also being so touchy with the people you aid.
And always in front of Miguel no less.
Miguel’s not exactly sure where this sudden possessiveness stems from, but he just knows that he loathes the thought of you touching anyone else the way you touch him.
He quietly observes you as you go about your business, talking and mingling with the other spiders.
A seemingly innocuous touch on the shoulder here, a comforting rub on the arm there.
And a playful butt slap?!
Uhn uhn, nope.
Miguel stomps over to where you are, currently doubled over laughing at the flushed face of one of your fellow spider men.
“__? May I speak to you in the lab? There’s something I’d like you to see.”
Miguel’s tone is apparently firmer than he intended, as you quickly straighten up, clearing your throat and gesturing for him to lead the way.
You don’t miss the way his eyes throw daggers at your companion, but you decide against commenting on it.
The trek to the lab is mostly quiet, and while you’re not exactly afraid of Miguel, you wonder what it is he needs to show you.
Different thoughts occupy your mind up until you reach the lab, such that you nearly bump into Miguel when he abruptly stops walking.
“So, what can I do ya’ for Mr. Boss Man? You said you needed to show me something?”
Miguel is silent for some seconds more, and you’re about to speak again when he suddenly turns, leveling you with a glare that has you taken aback.
“Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?”
Well, you certainly weren’t expecting that.
Mouth agape, you grasp for words like a fish out of water.
“Wh-..I-I’m…what?!”
“You switch around here like you’ve not a care in the world, always so chipper and touchy. Everytime I look around, there you are laughing with or smiling at or touching someone. Why can’t you just be still?”
You’re so taken aback that you can’t even formulate a response for several moments. Where on Earth was this coming from? Since when had Miguel been observing you for long enough to even begin harboring these feelings? And why was he just now saying something? Was it because of earlier?
“-__…hello, Earth to __?”
“Miguel, what in the world? This whole thing has thrown me for a loop. Where is this coming from all of the sudden?”
The man doesn’t answer for several seconds, blood red irises burning into yours.
After a moment, he turns his back to you, waving a dismissive hand over his shoulder.
“Nevermind __, forget I said anything.”
“No Miguel, I’m not just gonna let this go. I want a proper explanation.”
Approaching him, you place a hand on his shoulder, fully intending to turn him to face you when, in a swift couple of movements, he’s grasped your wrist and flipped you around, your back now pressed up against the large console in front of him.
Miguel now looms over you, eyes roaming slowly across your face and front.
“Miguel, what-...”
“Aye coño, I had planned to keep this to myself. You just make everything so difficult, huh?”
You find yourself mesmerized by his low tone of voice and the intoxicating crimson of his irises, such that you’re unable to respond immediately.
“E-explain Miguel.”
The man gives an exasperated roll of his eyes, caging you in with his hands on either side of you.
“Useful though you may be, you’re certainly not the brightest crayon in the box, hm?”
You scoff, rightfully offended.
“If this is your way of flirting, you’re going to seriously have to get better about it.”
Miguel chuckles, and the sound makes you smile slightly despite yourself.
“Is that so? Well then, I suppose you’ll have to give me pointers. You know best what tactics work on you after all.”
You begin to speak, before your eyes widen in realization.
“Wait, you were actually flirting with me? But you just insulted me! Like, two or three times in the span of fifteen minutes. The way you talk, it sounds like you don’t even like me.”
Miguel hums, bringing a gloved palm up to cup your cheek.
“Ah, my sweet __, you’re so simple. It’s adorable.”
You’re not entirely sure why, but when Miguel’s thumb subconsciously nears your mouth, you bite down on it with some force, causing the man to yank the digit away.
He stares at his thumb for a moment, which glistens slightly with a bit of your saliva, before leveling you with an incredulous look.
“You bit me.”
You nod.
“I did. And you totally deserved it. As a matter of fact, I should have bitten you even harder.”
You humph, a little grin curling your mouth.
It’s quiet between you for a moment, before Miguel does something that frankly shocks you.
He brings the bitten finger up to his mouth, licking over it slowly while maintaining eye contact with you.
You can’t deny that the action makes you feel…things, and you’ve little time to react before Miguel has caged you in again, a smirk shaping his infuriatingly handsome face.
“I never took you for a biter.”
This time though, you’re better prepared for the close proximity.
“There’s a lot you’ve yet to discover about me, Gigi.”
The distance between the two of you is subconsciously closing, your lips getting closer and closer.
You can see Miguel’s irises slowly turning scarlet, the color bright and piercing. When next he opens his mouth to speak, you can see the beginnings of sharp fangs dropping from his upper gum line.
“Really? Well, I’d be interested in getting to know all about you, muñeca.”
You snort quietly, before deciding to bite the bullet and pull Miguel in for a, frankly overdue, kiss.
The two of you stay connected in your lip lock for quite a few moments, tongues gently exploring one another. You teasingly graze your tongue over the, unbeknownst to you, sensitive film of Miguel’s fangs.
The action causes the man to moan, and the sound travels straight between your legs.
Pulling away, Miguel touches his forehead to yours, chuckling breathlessly.
“Considering you’ve already had your opportunity, I think it’s only fair that I return the favor.”
Before you can inquire about what Miguel means, he quickly leans up and nips at your bottom lip with his fangs, licking soothingly over the plump flesh right after.
Your giggle at the action evolves into full blown laughter as you double over, jokingly pushing at Miguel’s shoulder.
“Such a tease Gigi. But sure,” you playfully flick his nose.
“You’re free to take a bite as often as you like.”
#miguel o'hara#spiderman 2099#spider man 2099#across the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#atsv#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x reader
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guys i haven’t had time to write in weeks and it’s driving me INSANE. to help cope here are a bunch of percabeth fic ideas i have rattling around my brain that i may or may not get around to writing at some point
annabeth is assigned for cabin inspection and percy slept in (cue speed cleaning and attempted flattery and bribery to avoid punishment). this one is deeply unserious
since we didn’t get it in the show with the spider trap in the tunnel of love i’d love to write some other situation where annabeth gets scared by spiders and percy helps her through it and they talk about their fears
ok ok. hear me out. pjo tv trio watching the lightning thief musical. i’m normally not into “characters watch their own media” type fics, but i think it could be fun to write while also allowing for some introspection! they’re just experiencing this weird uncanny valley where everything is familiar but it’s so different at the same time and also everyone is singing?? percy laughs at his own jokes of course and grover is a theatre kid so he’s nerding out and annabeth is confused (the only musical she’s ever seen is the wizard of oz) but entertained. i think it could be silly
lovesick au with an extra dose of angst. percy gets accidentally drugged with aphrodite’s love magic (and naturally annabeth is the first person he sees) so now she has to deal with a very clingy percy who's sweet and considerate and would do anything she asked but it's not her percy. like she wanted him to like her back but not like this ;-; happy ending tho obviously
hypervigilance and hyperfixation - annabeth has always had to be aware of her surroundings and never let her guard down (ptsd from her childhood and being a demigod), until this boy comes into her life and now all her attention zones in on him whenever he’s within a 50 yard radius. just a little drabble on all the little things you notice when you’re constantly aware of your crush and how even their annoying habits or flaws become hopelessly endearing
annabeth with glasses would be so cute?? (credit to @vicwritesfic for the idea!). basically just some percabeth moments told through glasses: annabeth first getting them and percy helping her feel comfortable with them when she gets self conscious, annabeth losing them in the lake and percy retrieving them, percy trying her glasses on because i think that’s a universal glasses wearer experience, percy finding her asleep at her desk with her glasses askew and taking them off gently, etc. etc. you get the idea
ok y’all know that saying that’s like “you know you like your crush when they get an awful haircut and they’re still attractive to you”? that’s it, that’s the fic. i’m thinking percy gets an unwilling haircut and he gets all embarrassed because his head is a fuzzy egg now, but annabeth still finds him cute because she's down catastrophically bad. he gets his curls back at the end tho don’t worry!
percy is cursed to be honest when he lies to a god and now he can’t stop telling annabeth how pretty her eyes are and how much he admires her; he can’t even use sarcasm - he’s defenseless! basically an excuse for me to torture percy and make him finally talk about his feelings
post tlt. annabeth ran away again after fighting with her father, but instead of going back to camp she goes to stay with the jackson’s (with the obligatory shows-up-on-their-doorstep-sopping-wet-and-pathetic scene and sally decides to adopt her immediately). it was supposed to be for a weekend, but percy convinces her to just stay until they have to go back to camp (about three weeks) and cute domestic shenanigans (and angst) ensue!
percy just got his driver's license after the titan war and takes annabeth for a ride to montauk to meet grover (she obviously has to tease him about the time he was 12 and crashed a car because he was too busy looking into her eyes). they sing along to their favorite songs and percy gets road rage and they stop for ice cream. basically a chance for them to be normal teens because they deserve it!
pen pal au where percy and annabeth write each other letters during the school year (takes place after tlt). just little moments in their lives told through letters and photos and mementos (sally insists on express mailing annabeth blue cookies after a fight with her parents ofc). it’s not the same as having each other there in person, but it helps with the distance. my way of coping with the hiatus between tlt and SoM ;-;
bi percabeth my beloved!! fic about percy’s bi awakening after reflecting on all his boy crushes (childhood friend, luke, beckendorf, etc). he comes out to annabeth after the war and they have this very touching moment where they talk and hug it out. then annabeth is like “oh also I like girls” “you couldn’t have led with that??” “i didn’t want to steal your moment!”
i've also been drafting out some percy pov chapters to my fics "i miss you like a little kid", "nothing's going to hurt you baby", and "punched in the gut (feels like being in love" so those are in the works!!
phew. and that's not even all of them (i think about them an unhealthy amount). i miss writing these two so much, but i won't really have a chance to breath from my school work until spring break so wish me luck ;-;
as always you can find my finished fics here :3
#percabeth#percabeth fanfic#baby percabeth#percy jackson#percy jackson and the olympians#pjo disney+#percy jackson disney+#pjo series#fanfic ideas#ao3#pjo fanfic#the percabeth brainrot is insane
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Hi there! Anon sent reeling by S1E6 again! And I would just like to say that your response to my ask made me So Normal. Especially you bringing up S2E6, which is why I’m currently setting up a lawn chair here on the brink of insanity, because apparently I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.
Because yes, you’re completely right about S2E6 demonstrating this cycle of pushing others away while pushing themselves towards greatness and accidentally leaving pain in their wake that MK and SWK have managed to stick themselves in, but ALSO now I can’t stop thinking about how we get Shadow Play IMMEDIATELY afterwards.
Like… how much do you think Macaque had seen? Obviously he could see MK getting too caught up in his own head (*cough* and trauma *cough*) and shutting out his friends, but… how much had he seen seen, you know?
And now I also can’t stop thinking about how immediately after Shadow Play, we get To Catch a Leaf. Which is obviously an incredible episode in its own right, but it’s also the first episode since Minor Scale where MK is surrounded by his friends and he lets them help him. Because in S2E6, Mei and Sandy are with him, but he’s not really with them. He’s focused on getting stronger, to the point where he ignores them telling him exactly how to do so. And in the beginning of Shadow Play, we learn that he’s been further isolating himself off screen and blowing off activities with them so that he could focus on ‘[being] ready’.
But then To Catch a Leaf happens. And it starts off with MK surrounded by the others, having recently done something fun (curses aside) with Mei, and it’s not a big deal. He’s not stressing about getting stronger or being ready, he’s just… there with them. Present and in the moment, at least as much as he can be, and it’s fine. He’s fine, and more importantly he seems to be letting them in and being a bit more open with them.
And this carries on into 72 Transformations! Because obviously he still hasn’t told them The Thing, but he does go from ignoring/avoiding them while trying to get more powerful to calling them all up so that he can involve them. Figure at least some things out, together. And it drives me insane because he was getting better! He may very well have worked his way up to telling the others about LBD! But then she came a-knocking with more trauma, and it blasts him two steps back and it’s just… AHHH! He was SO CLOSE!!!
Also, side note: Do you think MK believes he has a body count? And I don’t even mean the nebulous potential casualties from all the recent disasters that MK blames himself for, I’m talking about Spider Queen specifically. Because MK isn’t an idiot. If he didn’t know she was dead (or whatever getting sucked into the furnace counts as) immediately after the sewers, he would have put two and two together after Destiny Fulfilled. And considering this is the guy who blames himself for DBK getting out despite knowing that SWK was right next to him in bird form the entire time, I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that he probably thinks it’s his fault. So… do you think it’s possible he sees himself as a murderer? Or, like, murderer adjacent? And if he does, how much more layered and messed up do you think that’d make the potential ‘Wukong reveals he killed Macaque’ moment?
Sorry for the long ask, the monkey show has changed me for better and worse. I will never be the same. *reclines on my lawn chair, gazing out over the precipice of madness with a thousand yard stare*
One: never apologize for a long ask, especially when it has so much good stuff in it! Two: I KNOW RIGHT. The monkey show really does change you for the better or for the worst. I'm still reeling from s4 and it's been 4 months, and then the s4 special came in and permanently altered my brain chemistry once again. I have a house next to this abyss.
ANYWAYS.
The back and forth of MK's character is one of my favorite things about lmk (of which I have many)! He takes 2 steps forward and then 4 steps back, and I think that's a testament to what getting better can look like—it's not linear. Sometimes, it's not even moving forward, and that's hard.
I think a great example of this "2 steps forward and then 4 steps back" phenomenon is MK's growth in Revenge of the Spider Queen:
MK starts believing in himself, smiling at that face in the mirror. It's not a strong belief, not yet, but it's a start. You can even see him making this attempt to improve in 2x01:
(this got a little long so everything else under the cut!)
MK: "Ah! Ugh, come on MK you can do this! Self-confidence! That's Monkey King 101!"
"Wait! I am worthy! Definitely worthy!" I'm Monkie Kid! Basically the new Monkey King—might have heard of me? You know, the next chapter? I'm totally worthy!"
(2x01 Sleep Bug)
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MK's even trying to mimic Monkey King here, the person he thinks he should be:
But then, as you've mentioned, LBD and 2x05 comes along.
And it's funny, because now we know MK did become more like Monkey King, just like he wanted, but it's in all the wrong ways.
((Kind of a side note: We also know that Monkey King couldn't have "picked the wrong successor", because there honestly wasn't another option for a successor to begin with. MK grappling with like, 3 levels of Wukong lies is what makes s2 so delicious to watch))
And then we have 2x06, and THEN 2x07, and I'm sure that's exactly why Macaque stepped in! He saw MK going down the same path Wukong did. The drive to become stronger, pushing his friends away—Macaque in Shadow Play knows exactly what he's talking about:
Macaque: "Well, with ol' Monkey King not around I thought someone should teach you a lesson! Ah MK, you really are dense, aren’t you. Haha, you saw a story about a hero who got handed everything, who didn’t have to work for anything, and you thought you were the other guy? The second the hero got real power, he couldn’t care less about his friends. That’s you bud." (2x07 Shadow Play)
("Everything I did was for us!" "You did it for yourself!" *head in my hands .png*)
Wukong leaves. That's what he does, and that's what he did to MK in both Revenge of the Spider Queen (leaving MK to fight Spider Queen and her mech alone) and 2x01.
And honestly, MK in s2 is simply doing his best to pick up the pieces, to be Monkie Kid alone, without SWK or even his friends. But it doesn't really work—hiding LBD's return from his friends didn't save them in 2x10, and it didn't stop the Lady Bone Demon, just like Wukong hiding LBD's return from MK didn't protect MK from any of it.
This pattern, of walking in Wukong's footsteps and making the same mistakes, keeps repeating itself.
MK's 2x08 parallel to Wukong in 3x10 is another good example of that.
MK's terrifying of hurting the people he cares about, so he leaves. He runs off, and this only hurts his friends further. ("Can't you see you're hurting the people who care about you the most?" and "I can’t risk hurting the people I care about—the one’s I have left.".)
And so, tying this all back to the s4 special, we're starting to see MK take 2 steps forward again:
MK: "You ever wish things will just stay like this, like they are right now?"
Sun Wukong: "Pssshhkk, where's the fun in that?"
Tang: "Uh um, Monkey King, we need to have a serious conversation about your idea of fun."
Mei: "At least we fixed something for a change, instead of destroying it!"
MK: "Yeah! So long as we leave the world in better shape than we found it, then it's all good right?"
(4x14 Better Than We Found It)
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And I'm waiting for the eventual 4 steps back.
Because well..."At least we fixed something for a change, instead of destroying it"...it's not that they didn't fix anything, but plenty was broken:
Flower fruit mountain was destroyed. Azure died. Whoever orchestrated all of this is still out there.
So, MK's current answer to "doing what you think is right" leading "to pain" might just not hold up. Because well, MK can try, that's for sure, but all that effort might still not make it a net positive, you know?
I think MK will blame himself for Azure's death, for SURE tough. He might have residual guilt about Spider Queen and everyone else harmed along the way, but Azure is the one I'm certain on. MK feeling like he's a "murder adjacent" and that compounding with the "Wukong Murdered Macaque" reveal and being "just like Wukong"...OH BABY. IT'S ALL COMING TOGETHER.
Like,
MK: "I just- I just want to be me. To be MK!"
Curse MK: "Yeah well...we all know exactly where that leads."
LBD Voice Over: "To pain."
(4x07 Pitiful Creatures)
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Identity and destiny are very much intertwined in this show, and MK doing what he thinks is right and being himself leads to pain. That's exactly what happened to Azure—he took the Jade Emperor's throne to try and make the world a better place, but all he managed to do was barely fix what he himself had broken.
MK: "Yeah well...I'm kinda always the one getting the world in trouble to begin with so..."
(4x01 Familiar Tales)
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All it's going to take is one antagonist speech towards MK that hits a little too close to home, and everything else is going to come crashing down.
I am very much getting geared up for my s5 lego tragedy, thank you very much!
#legitimately SO ill over it#Like MK is going to go full harbinger of chaos. I don't see any other way this will shake down#*sobbing* IT'S ALWAYS TO PAIN#MK tries SO hard to have positive character development but he always gets struck down#this is probably my favorite ask ever thank you anon#it seems like you enjoyed the monkey show. I'm glad we're all enjoyin' it#brb I am gonna go and rewatch 2x08 because I can#one of my favorite episodes#Like. Sandy accidentally destroying the bear mountain DRIVES ME INSANE. INSANE. HOW COULD THEY DO THAT TO ME.#Like Sandy's answer to ''to pain'' was very similar to MK's. He was choosing not to fight so he couldn't hurt anyone#But that didn't work out!#And this is imp's continuing adventures of going insane over Sandy and MK parallels#''I AM a monster! That's what the world wants me to be—so that's what I'm gonna give 'em!''#Okay jan#Thanks#This will have no implications down the line#lmk meta#lmk#lego monkie kid#monkie kid#asks#lmk MK
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Zephrael ramblings and theorizing that no one cares about
so we know Lolth is historically the goddess of the drow as well as spiders, chaos, darkness, and evil. Say Rae grew up with this church and in possibly the underdark. He's neither drow nor can he speak undercommon. Why was he taken in because he's not even half-drow (as far as we know but from what we've seen it seems unlikely). Living in the darkness all this time can be the cause of his light sensitivity but i think theres a little more. He's part of the reformed church of Lolth that while has better intentions, is still a fucking church of Lolth. There's obviously others who are out to get him because of this and I think that there may have been a little bit of targeted bombings in his past. He's extremely paranoid to the point of almost insanity and specifically is looking for explosives most of the time. This could be part of the reason his eyes are so fucked but also i feel majority of it does come from most likely living in the underdark i just think it would be kinda funny. he's barely mentioned anyone from his past either so i wouldn't be surprised if maybe loved ones or even just people he knew were harmed in such explosion.
this still begs the question on why he's important enough to be called upon as a special guest but also not important enough that he wants another bodyguard to look better. his drive for status and frankly power is intriging because he also doesn't know how society seems to work up here and also seems to get bouts of self deprication. Status is extremely important for drows as classism runs fucking rampant so it would make sense if Rae had internalized that but it all comes back to why was a human living with drow. it's not even like a shadows only thing either because they specifically call them drow customs as well. the lore of Lolth hasn't been changed to include other races, he's just there. Who are his parents either biological or chosen?
there's also the fact that he's literally so religious it actually causes him to have almost panic attacks around spiders and what the old church was doing that one time. as well as that time he full on dropped to his knees to recite a prayer that was seemingly coming from nowhere. the runes across his body seem to be almost tattooed on and i somewhat wonder if that was his choice or not.
It would be interesting if he was some sort of chosen one of sorts but also it doesn't feel like a lot of what Rae does is for himself. Yes he stands up for himself and speaks his own mind but a lot of it is influenced by the church. Im just so facinated because Grizzly loooves a tragic family life for his characters so i wouldn't be shocked if this comes with Zephrael. His staus in where he comes from and where he is now is so crazy to me and just. I can't help but wonder how he got here
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hi could i get some lee nickel ( lol ive asked so many requests) also when i get home i open up tumbler and read ya fanfics and my day gets better keep up the good work
I’m glad to know you like my fics :D.
note from 11/10: IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE 😭😭😭 FORGIVE ME
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When your luck’s a devastation!
Pair:Clover and nickel (platonic)
Show: Inanimate insanity invitational
Summary: Clover arrived to talk to nickel about something, what shall it be?
Also this takes place on the night of episode 9
(Also uhhhh this is kinda based off a hc I saw)
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It was a peaceful night, the stars were lighting the night sky and there was gentle winds, everyone had fell asleep.
Well.. not everyone
Nickel could not sleep whatsoever thinking about earlier, and it is driving him nuts.He twisted and turned around trying to block his thoughts and it wasn’t helping. Nickel sat up and accidentally pushed something against the wall making a loud bang. Luckily he didn’t wake up anyone that was sleeping but he didn’t really care. He was so stuck on about his lucky situation..
He was taken from his thoughts when a pink butterfly fluttered by the window with a sudden whisper noise, nickel carefully got up to step up closer to the window to get a closer view.
He was startled by a certain
“Hi!!~”
And the sight of a green figure jumping up and waving through the window out of nowhere, nickel had yelped and jumped away once again not waking the others.
That green figure was clover! Clover is back!! But how?
Nickel had blurted out a bit quietly but loud enough for clover to hear, “What are you doing here!?” he frantically asked “You aren’t supposed to be here!!”
Clover let out a giggle and made a signal for nickel to come outside the small cabin. Nickel was hesitant at first, but then saw it as an opportunity for this “curse” to be gone.
Nickel was out the door within a few minutes.
Clover walked out to the nearby cliff as nickel followed along wondering what she wanted to say. Clover sat on the edge of the cliff Patting the grass beside her with a sweet smile as she swung her legs back and forth over the cliff ledge. Nickel went beside her and asked
“So..- What did you wanna talk about”
Clover replied “My little gift for you!! How’s it doing?”
Nickel annoyed groan gave clover her answered her question,plus nickel commented “You mean the curse you gave me? I thought my team actually looked up to me only to realize it was because of the STUPID CURSE YOU GAVE ME.” Clover just replied, “Maybe you just don’t see how good your luck is yet! An—“ Nickel cut her off again with another shout “I’m sorry? ‘How good your luck is?..’ THERE IS NOTHING GOOD ABOUT THIS CURSE AT ALL!” His frustration saturated to sadness “I actually thought my team really supported me and .. It was all fake“
Clover was rather speechless,she did not like seeing the disappointed look on his face. Clover had an idea not sure if it’d work though . Clover spoke,
“Nickel they probably do support you, you may just haven’t realized it..!“ nickel let out a sigh and said “Thanks I guess-..“
Nickel still was disappointed as clover expected.. Clover make a claim “I don’t like that sad face of yours mister! We need to turn that frown upside down.“ before nickel could comment, clover lightly scribbled nickel’s sides.
Nickel let out a high squeak followed by giggles, nickel managed to speak “Clohohover- quihihit it!“ Clover obly smiled and switched to his stomach gently pushing him over flat easily spidering her fingers all over. Nickel squealed this time and squirmed around and made a small complaint in between his laughter, “THIHIS IS NOHOT NEHEHECESARY-“ clover just replied “Yes it is!” As she moved her hands down to nickels knees gliding her fingers swiftly underneath them.
Nickel squealed once again though his laughter staying the same, clover complimented “Aww!! Your laugh is just so adorable” this made nickel a little flustered and he blurted in his laughter “SHUHUT UHUHUP-“ clover ignored it though.
Clover stopped for a few minutes to let nickel breathe, he thought it was finally done until clover said, “Hm.. you don’t seem fully cheered up maybe a few raspberries will help you” while giving a sly smile. Nickel realized it wasn’t the end just yet.Nickel panicked and quickly choked out “Uhm— you don’t have to do that in fine see! Heh nothing to worry about here.” He slowly scooted away.
Clover had picked up nickel again placing him flat again and said, “I don’t think so” nickels last words were “WAIT NO—“ before clover blew a long awfully ticklish raspberry on nickel’s stomach. Nickel uncharacteristically shrieked in loud cackly laughter nickel was unable to speak he tried though it turned out as gibberish, clover not wanting to kill him stopped the tickles.nickel laid there breathless on the grass. Clover asked out of slight concern, “I didn’t go too far did I?” Nickel mumbled out “No worries-..” also followed by another one “you’re evil” clover only giggled
The sun was rising and soon the other would’ve woken soon. Clover said “Oh! I gotta go now!! Bye nickel and good luck” clover flown away with her butterflies’ help and nickel sat on the cliff watching as she went away.
Well-.. even if it was a sleepless night at least it was spent laughing!
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who are your top 10 taskmaster contestants ever?
I may have not answered this straight away so I could think about it and then during that time forgotten about it...but here we are!
I feel as though a lot of the time I don’t have favourite individual contestants but favourite dynamics and groups so sometimes my favourite contestants from a series will be multiple people lol, so in no particular series order:
Romesh - honestly I love s1 and starting the first task with Romesh absolutely smashing that watermelon on the floor was such a strong move, long live the tree wizard
Mel - oh gang, just a delight to watch but the whole s4 lot worked really well together in general (I’d say Noel did least for me but still good)
Mark+Nish plus Sally - you’ve got Nish and Sally bringing completely different directions of insanity (one very competent and one...not.), and the Mark and Nish team finally succeeding in the song for a stranger was *chef’s kiss* (it feels wrong to leave Aisling and Bob out of this but I’m trying to not just say everyone!)
Jessica plus James+Rhod - love her earnestness and she gets one of my favourite comments (”it’s frustrating, isn’t it Greg, when you’re asked to complete a task under pressure”), and what other contestant has part of the show’s infrastructure named after them? and then do I really need to explain James and Rhod? (same as above for leaving out Phil and Kerry, s7 is one of the faves)
Joe Thomas - just a weird guy. I think of him whenever I smell tomatoes on the vine.
Rose - shid. (shoutout to Baddiel for driving Ed insane)
Katherine Parkinson - she and Alex were a team! s10 is fairly low in my rankings but little can beat Katherine wondering if she is, in fact, the spider
Jamali and Wozniak - the star of Taskgames and the creator of the absolute casserole. honestly huge respect to Jamali for just going in and stomping on as much as possible, and Wozniak has an incredible way with words (honourable mention to children’s tv presenter Charlotte Ritchie)
Victoria - Ol’ Goosebumps Arm, incredibly intelligent, absolutely useless except when it comes to codebreaking.
Bridget and Judi - I genuinely think these two may be the contestants that have made me laugh the most, I want to study their brains like a bug under a microscope. also Sophie and Ardal and Chris. top tier series.
also as a bonus since it’s not Taskmaster Proper but the whole NZ2 cast, if I had to pick one then it would be David but I genuinely think they may be my favourite cast overall. maybe.
#anyway sorry this took uh. a month.#I'm enjoying s14 though it's not quite on the same level as the past few series#and who knows who may be added after s15 🤔🤫#upslapanswer#taskmaster#cavehags
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TriMax vol. 2 notes are here!! Also note that I might be wrong about the CW for 2.7, but I'm like 99% sure those dolls were anatomically correct (I do not want to know the answers to the questions this raises, the Gung Ho Guns are a buncha FREAKS FR).
TriMax Notes: Vol. 2
TriMax #2.1: Return of the Blue Wind of Death
Content Warnings: Body horror/gore
OH it’s the guy from the ‘98 pilot!
So they’re sending in fake!Vash #1 (from ‘98) against the other Gun Ho members…oh dear
OH NO OH NO OH NO
Hey Legato what the HELL man
WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM
TriMax #2.2: Resume Our Business
This is disturbing on so many levels. His continued degradation even after being saved from sex slavery…just…ahhhhh
Also Midvalley is a dumbass
YEAH DUMBASS HOW DID YOU THINK THAT WOULD GO [Context note: this was him getting body-slammed after pulling a gun on Legato and thinking that would work out in his favor]
“We’ll show him the true human nature he so desperately protects. Fuse the futility of his purpose to his very bones.” Ohhh this is. Scary. In light of Stampede…
Wolfwood dodging how he knows Knives’ name and then being called out by Rai-Dei does NOT look good for him LMAO
“Glorious! My spirit is afire!” / “Gee. So happy you liked it…can I go now?” LOL
“Terrorist priest” is. Close to true, yeah.
Also this fight is gonna be banging in Stampede since Vash does more close quarters fighting there
TriMax #2.3: Samurai Showdown
“No, more like, it’s because they are still human…that’s the reason behind this sinful existence (WW about the Gung Ho guns) chews on this chews on this chews on this
GUN ARM! YES!!!
Don’t know how he won that but good for Vash
TriMax #2.4: Wolfwood
owo
Rai Dei: I WILL sunk cost fallacy my way out of this!!
WW drawing a pistol: Bet, lmao
“Maybe he would have fired…but…I would have just dodged! No matter how many times I’d have to! It’s better than killing him and taking away his chance to stop.” UNHINGED. About this line in light of the Stampede finale [Note: May just do a tumblr post about this on its own because it does drive me insane]
“You talk of saving everyone but you don’t want to get your own hands dirty” GNAWING…
“No matter what you do, you give it up so easily” HRMMM [Note: transcribing this does not capture how my handwriting turned into barely legible scrawl]
I need to make a tumblr post about this [Note: this was the post]
Also ZAZIE NOT NOW
“Did I say something wrong again?” Milly babe everything you say is right and correct!
TriMax #2.5: Desperado
“It would appear I’m no longer fit to hold you guys” I’m devastated thanks for asking!!
Dehydrated!Vash looks like the dying plants in TriStamp…feel like that’s deliberate on Stampede’s part
Vash just wordlessly following this kid with a smile on his face…funny? Sad? Both??
“What’s wrong with saving your family? You people didn’t even try to do anything!” / “Not everyone can gamble with their lives so casually.” Reminds me of Roberto’s comment about how only the privileged can throw around the word “coward”
”There really is something wrong with this brat” LMAO WW leave him alone!!
TriMax #2.6: Home Sweet Home
“I can’t afford to die. For the sake of the kids, y’know.” (WW) Muffled scream
“I don’t have time to play ‘til I hit the limit, the way you do.” (WW)
Vash been gone for 10 years, but everyone seems to view him well…though these are puppets whoops [Note: honestly that whole scene was super messed up in how cruel it was]
TriMax #2.7: Darkness
Content Warnings: Anatomically correct dolls that form together into a cursed looking spider-thing, "genitals" only in a few panels though (I didn't keep count lmao)
Damn Wolfwood didn’t even wait to start blasting
I need to see this bitch animated immediately
OH HE BROUGHT BACKUP?? CHEATING!!!
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Fun fact: demon slayer starts in 1912 and ends in 1927(or at least that's when the Tashio era ends). Using that math Tanjiro (as long as he kept his health good) would very well be alive today at the ripe age of like 78 if my math is correct since he started as 13 in the series. (My math probably wrong asf)
Power imbalance, power bottom reader, knife play, blood but not blood play...
He hated you.
Your very being irked him more than anything he'd ever experienced in all his centuries of living. You were clumsy, boisterous, and played that arrogant music all throughout your home while walking around half naked. Well in Muzan's opinion you were half naked, he couldn't even begin to describe his disbelief at the trend of exposing skin.
It didn't help that you had that insignificant filth running through your veins. At first he was unsure, after all this was a completely different country than Japan, not to mention your darker skin and coiled hair. But no, he could smell and recognise the Kamado blood running through your veins just as strongly as it had run through all your ancestors.
Completely undiluted.
At the very beginning when you first moved in, you came to his home. Knocking aggressively on his front door already getting off to the wrong start. When he opened it, you slipped past him and walked into his living room barely even saying hello as you put poorly decorated sugar cookies on his obsidian coffee table. "This is a nice place you got here Mj."
Muzan's eyes twitched, that joke had long since gotten old since he moved to America.
Now that you were closer he could definitely smell, the century old stench of rivaling bloodlust simmered just below your onyx skin. At any moment he expected you to attack him in some way or form. "Anyways I'm here to say hello neighbor, my name is Y/n and I'm your new best friend!"
Your happy attitude also agitated him to no end. Even though the knowledge of demons had dwindled down to only a few select families, even basic humans were wary of him as their baser instincts made them aware of his dangerous origins. This fact had long since forced Muzan to only prey on the elderly to survive. You had stayed a bit longer babbling about some nonsense that Muzan never acknowledged as he watched you from a good distance.
"You know you really got to add more to your wardrobe than 1963 suits." You walked from the back of his home, an area that he didn't even notice you wandered to. Finally getting bored, you open his door bidding your farewells.
Just before leaving you stop and with a cheeky grin say, "If you ever need anything just come on over. We Kamado's are known for our kindness."
Since then he'd been on edge around you. The point of relocating was for him to keep a low profile but now it seems he'd have to come face to face with an old nemesis reborn.
Muzan snapped out of his thoughts with a flinch as he pierced his hand with his nail. He watches the dark blood well up from the wound and drip down his wrist. In the end this world had long since lost its hostility dwindling the average human incapable of basic combat. Giving you were no doubt a great descendant, Muzan failed to see you as a true threat.
But one can never be too sure
🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢
You heard a knock on your door, soft and hesitant. "I don't think I'm expecting company." You checked your watch and peered out of a nearby window. It was at least 8 at night, you were braless wearing sweats with a red T-Shirt and on your way to bed. In the back of your mind you visualize your two grand-uncles Inosuke and Zenitsu coming over to make you spectate their fights. For two old dudes they still had enough strength in them to do hip breaking nonsense.
You open the door shocked to see your next door neighbor standing before you. For once he wasn't wearing a suit that cost more than your house. His attire was still expensively dressed but in a more casual sense, that being a black dress shirt and slacks. His sleeves were rolled up displaying his pale skin. "Can I come in?" A dazzling smile you had never seen before practically blinds you as he walks past you into your home.
When Muzan walks in his eyes immediately dart to the clear as day Nichirin Blade sword displayed recklessly on your living room wall above your couch. "You like it?" A hand on his shoulder makes him jump, "Got it from my grandpa, he says it's really special but I feel like he's exaggerating. You know how old people are." Muzan shakes out of his stupor. "I don't quite understand what you mean by that, however I do know that it's much more wise to listen to your elders than ignoring…..It could save your life."
Muzan replicates you and puts a hand on your shoulder gently squeezing. This was it, he'd go in for the kill and it would be over, the amount of blood he'd pump into you would be enough to watch you meet a satisfying end of combustion completely untraceable if the police were to get involved. How he wishes he'd be there when your poor grandfather walks along your remains splattered on every surface in your living room. Unable to do a thing as he's finally in his last stretch of life.
The beauty.
Muzan's finger only twitches in the slightest before pain sparks from his own neck. "The thought of you coming into my own home unprovoked and at night no less, was the most obvious sign one could ask more." You had his hand gripped so tight your veins popped while your other hand held a small pocket knife that burned brighter than any Nichirin sword he'd ever encountered. He didn't understand, he was quick enough to kill even the best of the ancient Hiroshima. So how did a little foreign girl like you get the upper hand?
It was embarrassing and almost laughable if any of his pillars were alive to tell the tale.
You press the blade harder before bringing your other hand to caress Muzan's cheek, "Did you think I'd be just an ignorant descendant of an infamous hero?" You clicked your teeth disappointingly. "How naive, you've really become lazy after all these millennia huh?" You walk forward, pushing Muzan back with seductive strength. He allows you to push him into your couch, I say allow because at any time he could have stopped you.
Muzan is most definitely not holding me at gunpoint right now.
The knife never wavers even as you climb into Muzan's lap, pressing it even closer against his jugular. "You do know getting beheaded will not kill me, and I doubt this petty little kitchen knife will get the job done in the first place." Your lips draw into a smirk and you press the knife closer as you trail it down his chest, "That may be true but it's gonna take one hell of a time for you to grow back." Your hand jerks down, popping his shirt buttons open.
Muzan watches with interest, your eyes light up as more skin becomes exposed. The tones of your dark skin contrast strikingly as you caress his pectoral with the tips of your fingers. "For a 1,000 year old grandpa you look decent." Still threatening his life with your blade, you kiss him. It's deep and carnal. Your lustful desires being made known as you grind in his lap. The flesh of your ass snuggly hotdogs the forming outline of his cock. "I've always wanted to be with a demon. You've had to of become a real freak after living this long!"
When you pull away Muzan's thin lips are pink and a bit swollen. He is out of breath despite needing none, "You have a lot of nerve for a mere human." With your free hand you loosen the belt of his slacks, only standing to pull them off, pleased when Muzan voluntarily raises his hips to aid you.
Don't get him wrong, he was still planning on killing you and ending your wretched bloodline once and for all, he just needed his mind to clear itself. Your scent, your confidence, strung him along like a puppet. His hands grip onto your ass cheeks like a lifeline. Molding them between his fingers, even giving them a shake through your sweats. His nails elongate and puncture the thick fabric as if it was nothing more than a spider web.
Your sweats are tugged off completely leaving your lower half nude. Muzan moves his hands to hold your ass again but your blade politely makes itself known. You are out of breath and clearly flustered. "Watch yourself, demon, I'm the one calling the shots, don't forget that." Muzan bites his tongue with sharp glare. He raises his hands in surrender, "Of course."
Muzan can feel your wetness against his leg and it's driving him insane. "Hey…" red eyes refocus on yours, "You ain't got any diseases do you? And you can't get me pregnant right?" Muzan smirks hands enclosing around your ass despite your protest. "I can, however it will cost a lot more than doing it once." The odds didn't seem in your favor but you were in no position to stand down and grab a condom and Muzan knew it.
You curve the blade towards his chin, "If you are lying and give me some ancient unknown disease or I find out you have superman sperm, I will kill you." Muzan links his lips, "Wasn't that the plan from the beginning or have you had a moment of level headedness?" Your wrist is quick and precise, cutting a thin slash along his jawline., not enough to scar and it barely even bled, but the threat was clear.
You grab Muzan's dick and use your thumb to attack the underside with fast strokes. Said man doesn't react outwardly, the only sign being his eyelids lowering by a fraction. "Were you always this well endowed or did you adjust this part too?" Muzan was not amused by your insinuation. Deciding to once again display the true power imbalance this situation had, he loops his arms underneath your large thighs and lifts you just enough to thrust his cock against your hole.
From there he let's go, making you plop down on his length, making you yelp and allowing him to lean back with a relaxed sigh. You were so warm and tight. Now even though I explained what had happened with great detail, keep in mind that in reality it all happened within a fraction of a second.
Your large and in charge persona was cracking. You gripped Muzan's sides tightly as your pussy spasmed around his girth. "F-Fuck it's too….." you trail off not wanting to give Muzan the credit he was truly due.
It takes a few moments for you to get your bearings all the while Muzan and his dangerous jaw swayed in the crevice of your neck. A viper playing with its prey. The blade is back against his neck once again making his cock twitch. If he were human this would be a dangerous feat. Your grip never slacked nor lessened against his neck, slicing into a growing wound that dropped dark blood down his chest and to his abdomen.
His dick stretched your pussy and made it weap on each downstroke. Muzan's hands grip onto the cheeks of your ass with gritted teeth. Your insides gripped him ever so slightly. Sucking him back in as if he belonged there. He felt used and it felt good. His black ringlets stuck to his face from sweat and his red eyes grew in intensity.
He couldn't see much of your body, hell he could barely even touch. In the back of his mind humorous thoughts such as how he knew Tanjiro would lose his sanity if he knew his granddaughter was being bedded by the man he despised. But the more you bounced, the more you squeezed, the deeper you cut into his neck proved that you were truly the one in charge.
"Oh God you're so deep!" Your deep almond eyes shut themselves with pleasure. Muzan could feel your legs shaking with exertion at the same rhythm your pussy twitched. His balls felt tight after having no action in over a dozen years. "F-Faster." He has no care for your blade, only wanting to cum and feel the sweet ecstasy he knew your creamed pussy would provide. "Come on human, go faster." Muzan locks lips with you, gaze hardened and intent on proving some sort of point.
Tossing the knife you wrap your arms around his neck pulling his head closer. Red eyes target brown ones as his hands take a stronger grip on your ass. He uses his strength to bounce you. The sound of his balls slapping against the curve of your ass is just as disgusting as it is sexy. Your nipples rub against his through your tank-top making you both moan. The feeling blood stains your shirt making you shiver from the cool wetness
The couch you rest on bangs against the wall behind you the faster you both go. Muzan's feet are planted firmly in the ground, his fangs further elongated. He looks feral and it is in this moment where you get a glimpse of the horror many people felt when he took their lives. "Focus little Kamado, you wouldn't want to disappoint me now would you?"
Muzan's hips meet yours, spreading the tempo. Your juices coat his lap before finally you tense up completely into a cramp inducing stance as Muzan impaled you on his cock one last time. "Ahh.." Muzan empties himself within you with a relieved sigh.
Maybe the Kamado bloodline could go on.
#blackreader#black y/n#demon slayer smut#muzan x reader#anime smut#muzan smut#muzan x black reader#demon slayer x black reader
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Reluctant Vacation // Charlie Gillespie
Summary: The niece of the infamous Kenny Ortega had its advantages and disadvantages, you received insight on his projects but felt guilty saying no. Kenny seeing the exhaustion pulling you down invites to the set of Julie and the Phantoms where you rediscover your love with the field.
Warning: Swearing and fluff.
Words 2.2k
A/N: I do take requests. It may take a bit to get to them but I’ll post some.
Please ask to be tagged in my inbox because I can’t promise you will be through commenting on the posts!
Masterlist
The sigh came from deep in your chest wanting to drop to the floor for an exhaustion induced nap, but an airport wasn’t the best place. Large sunglasses obscured people from seeing the deep bags under your eyes on the way to the film lot. It was coming full circle, the change different from the frantic schedule you had had recently. When Kenny called you hadn’t hesitated in packing and buying a ticket.
“Miss Y/L/N?” The voice pulled you from your thoughts as a man holding a card with your name displayed. He was of Puerto Rican descendent with a young girl beside him with similar features, “I’m Ricardo. This is my daughter Madison.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m-“
“Y/N Y/L/N.” Madison supplied with a beaming grin on her face having recognized you from your role as Sabrina in The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina along with movies.
All you could do was send a fragile smile in response after a long sleepless flight to Canada.
Madison’s eyes saddened at the exhaustion you carried, “I can fangirl later. You looked really tired.”
“Kenny saw and asked me to come over the guise of help, but he knows I need a break. He’s lucky I don’t need to be on set for a few weeks.” You replied, covering a yawn as you found yourself at a car, the walk a blur.
Unintentionally you found yourself asleep in the backseat the moment you settled back there for the drive. You had filmed in Vancouver before, so it wasn’t a huge deal, and the Reyes’ duo didn’t have the heart to wake you up.
“We’re here,” Madison whispered with the back-car door opened. Your eyelids fluttering at her voice, giving Madison a closer look at your face.
Walking on set, you saw Kenny giving one of his pep talks before he cut himself off at the sight of you. The actors surrounding him furrowed their brows as the legendary director power walked to a person concealed behind Mads.
“Sweetheart.” Kenny beamed, pulling his niece in for a hug before leaning back to scan her features, “You need a nap.”
“I need to meet your new cast.” You snickered stepping around the man to the three actors he had abandoned to see you. You found amusement in their widening eyes at the sight of the Y/N walking to them.
“Oh, my shit.” Owen gasped freaking out as the actress co-starring in the new Spider-Man trilogy came closer.
Last night Owen, Charlie and Jeremy had hosted a movie night in the rented apartment the first two rented. They had quickly made their way through Captain America: Civil War before watching the following movies with Spider-Man. You had a cameo in Captain America: Civil War before becoming a star in Homecoming and Far From Home.
“We manifested her.” Charlie hissed frantically fixing his set costume growing a blush at the smile you wore. He could feel the hair stylist on standby glaring at his tousled locks.
The girl in question came to a stop before the three guys portraying the phantoms of the show in the second season. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the expressions each one of them had.
“Hello.” You greeted flattered when the tall blonde one turned a blossom pink at the voice of an angel. Charlie and Owen had developed celebrity crushes on you.
In revenge, Tori, a returning choreographer and background character, saw Charlie’s expression along with a familiar girl. After filming season one ended the previous year you had stopped by during the filming process of CAOS to catch up with Kenny. Tori had been there and you two became friends.
“Hey!” Tori grinned, pulling you into a hug, “These three binged your MCU movies last night, and Charlie’s wallpaper is you.”
“Tori!”
“This is what you get for telling Booboo about the poster!” Tori called to the Canadian boy jogging out his area. Charlie’s cheek darkened more than Owen’s as your smile grew bigger.
“No worries Ghost. Luke definitely my favourite character and gotta say you should have been on Charmed more than two episodes.” You supplied walking backwards to Kenny once more yearning for a night’s rest after the flight.
“Holy shit.” Charlie choked smacking Jeremy’s arm repeatedly, “She knows me. Oh, oh, OH. She’s seen me-“
“-Getting it on for a scene.” Jeremy snickered as his friend grew more and more flustered, “That was tame compared to her and Tom going at it.”
Charlie’s face dropped being reminded of the explicit scene you had done with Tom Holland in the movie that came out near the end of 2020. The Devil All the Time was the only film out of the MCU you had done with Tom. You had played the promiscuous daughter of a devout, loyal churchgoer and close friend of the preacher.
“Didn’t they date for a few months?” Owen questioned thinking back to the media mayhem during the virtual press for the film.
Owen was correct with the chemistry between you and Tom it was natural you would do interviews together via shared video chats. Charlie watched every single one that came out with interest. He hadn’t even expected the film to do so dark and explicit, but you had a natural talent.
“English, handsome, actor-“ Charlie started to list off on the English actor with a far more extensive list of credits. Charlie felt like a Canadian child in the city of Los Angeles compared to your leading man.
“-runs a charity with his family.” Jeremy continued raising one eyebrow, “At least he isn’t tall. You’d be fully screwed.”
Charlie shoved his teasing friends away with a smirk of his own as the trio continued on to the film. Charlie put his feelings on the back burner to focus on the storyline and emotions of the scene.
“Spider-Man Three baby!” The English accent shouted from the phone with only an ocean separating the two actors. Tom hadn’t even greeted you before screaming at the news you both received; despite the scripts from a few weeks prior the sequel had fully been greenlighted
Your head tossed back at the childlike glee on the older adult, clearly displaying the two years really mean he was two years old. After meeting on the set of Civil War along with Harrison, you had become friends. Followed with the following MCU appearances, it had been a surprise to be cast in Devil All the Time.
“Insane.” You started making your way through the set to where Kenny had texted you from. It was closing to the end of your vacation.
In the few weeks, you had reconnected with Tori on her breaks along with becoming good friends with the cast members. Something clicked between you and the core four of the show even if Madison sometimes still got starstruck.
“Did you read the script?” Tom questioned quirking his infamous eyebrow his fans wholly adored. You found it amusing, to be honest, that every character he portrayed had the same eyebrow.
“Not fully. I’m surrounded by people, and unlike you, I prefer not to jeopardize my career with marvel.” You teased glancing up as Charlie and Owen made their way over, “I’ll be flying out in a few days for filming.”
Tom nodded his head, “I got get back. Jacob and Haz are visiting. Remember to film the announcement! Bye Love!”
You gave a thumbs up before Tom ended the facetime glancing up at the duo who each raised their eyebrows. Charlie’s mask nearly breaking at Tom’s goodbye. Charlie could feel the cover of his feelings falling more and more each day.
“Announcement?” Owen questioned, slipping his jacket on over his shoulders having changed from his Alex outfit.
“Nothing.” You waved it off, starting to walk backwards with a smile that Charlie thought made your eyes shine brighter than stars.
The boys followed behind on the walk to the house Jeremy and Carolynn had decided to rent during filming. You had been crashing there as Jeremy didn’t want Carolynn to be alone with his filming schedule. It also gave the perfect place for your plan. Last few nights you had binged the marvel movies again ending with Far From Home.
The living room was decked out by Carolynn with your help from earlier as she was the only know that knew. Everyone settled in the living room with Mr Reyes there as well who had quickly become a father figure to you.
“So, I wanted everyone here for a reason. I’m sure you’ve noticed I’ve been reading a script and I have something to open.” You started thanking Jeremy as he brought in the package, he had no clue of the contents, “Now nobody says any spoilers for season two.”
You turned on the camera Paul Becker had supplied with a small smile having already filmed the opening sequence. You sat on the floor in the camera shot, opening the big box to hand out the smaller boxes to your friends. Charlie, Owen, Jeremy, Madison, Savannah, Booboo and every else glanced at the non-descript red box.
“Open them.” You urged grinning as the room went silent except for the tape ripping off the packages.
In each individual box was marvel themed candy, a plushie of Spider-Man along with signed cards from the Avengers actors and the MCU Spider-Man cast. At the very bottom, all it said was to look up at you. Instead of facing them with their looks of shock, you addressed the camera.
“Tom and I are so incredibly happy to announce that Spider-Man 3 is in the beginning process of filming.” You beamed at the camera listening to the intense noise of your friends screaming, “we can’t reveal anything else about the film, but the script is immaculate as usual. You’ll get to see Harper on the screen once more.”
“WHAT!” The collective scream behind you came as you waited a second before ending the video. You’d have to replay it before sending to marvel for the finishing touches with Tom’s version and then you could post it on Instagram.
“Surprise!” You spoke to the group behind you all in states of excitement, “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to tell you guys! I got the script a few days before I came.”
“Holy shit.” Owen spoke, laughing at he shook his head, “You managed to get autographs from fucking Iron Man himself.”
“I got connections.” You snorted meeting the gaze of Charlie, “Nah, Downey’s kids came for a visit, and I kept them company. Downey offered to do anything, and I took the favour.”
The surprise wore off as the group mingled, but Charlie’s eyes stayed pinned to your form as you sent a message to Tom. Locking your phone to noticed his eyes.
“Hey Charlie.” You smiled, sitting on the couch next to him. His expressive eyes showing a silver screen of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher.
The corner of his mouth tilted up in response to the way his name rolled off your tongue, sending his heart stuttering. A cold sweat appearing when you grasped his hand in yours in a confident manner.
“So, you leave soon?” Charlie murmured moving closer to hear you among the chatter of the group. Your lips turned down for a split second as you felt the sadness of leaving.
It was refreshing to be on set without the demands of makeup, costumes, filming and choreography. To see the action and magic but not be part of it was a definite change you had needed desperately. But to leave Charlie hurt.
“My call time is in three days. Need to get ready to bring Harper Osbourne back to the big screen.” You replied, loosening your grip on his hand, “I don’t really want to go back. I’m gonna miss you…and everyone else of course.”
Unaware to the eyes watching in anticipation you and Charlie conversed further on the upcoming months. To the great disappointment of the house began to clear out, Owen for an early call time. Savannah was meeting with her brother, and Mr Reyes was taking Madison home.
It left Jeremy and Carolynn to retire to their bedroom while you stayed on the couch with Charlie for longer. The emotions building from the prior weeks, bubbling to the surface. Hearts thudding in their chest Charlie leaned in glancing at your lips; yours glancing at his.
Who moved first couldn’t be known, but as your lips brushed together just barely you felt grounded and peaceful. If he leaned closer, you wonder what the kiss would make you feel.
“I’d like to kiss you.” Charlie murmured startled at the confidence he had gained, “But before I do. Do you have something with Tom?”
“Other than onscreen chemistry? Absolutely nothing.” You spoke barely louder than a whisper to the boy that had become so much more than some actor.
He was Charlie. The goofy boy that put a smile on anyone’s face with an impromptu concert in the middle of a crowded street. He lived life to the fullest without any regrets. He was passionate about his work, music and the environment.
Those thoughts evaporated when lips met another pair of lips in what might be described as the best kiss ever. No fireworks felt as Wattpad would say, but instead, it was the heady warmth of hot chocolate on a cold day; a warm shower after a long stressful day. It was home and perfect.
Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)
@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @parkeret @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds @kcd15 @siriuswvrld @princessvader15 @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle @joshy-obx @lovesanimals @oopsiedoopsie23 @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you @jaskiers-sweetkiss @lostrandomfangirln @must-be-a-weasley-92 @jatp-holland @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland @dasexydevitt13 @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost @marinettepotterandplagg @ssprayberrythings @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon @zukoshonourr @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch
#charlie gillespie imagines#charlie gillespie fanfiction#charlie gillespie x reader#charlie gillespie imagine#charlie gillespie#jatp fanfic#luke patterson imagines#caitsy and ash productions
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The Man From Willow Creek - PART ONE
Pairing: Mountain Man! Dean/Author! Reader
Y/N isn't in a good headspace, so her publisher sends her off to a remote cabin in the mountains in an attempt to rid her of all distractions and produce the highly anticipated first draft of her last book.
But as she battles with snow, word counts, and surprise visitors, she learns that not every battle needs to be won, and that happy endings aren't always what we'd think.
WC ≈ 35,000 Total
A/N: Thank you to@redweddingsandbowties for helping me to churn out over 25,000 words in a week and filtering out my typing fails.
Warnings: Violence, Recreational Drug Use, 18+ Smut, Pet Death
Read on AO3 or...
“Miss, your total is $426.54. Miss?”
Y/N blinked and looked up at the cashier before taking her credit card out and handing it over.
“Are you stocking up for the end of the world?” The cashier asks as he runs her card. Y/N glances at the trolley loaded with a months’ worth of non-perishables and a dozen crates of beer.
“Something like that.” She tells him as she scribbles her signature on the store receipt.
The trolley is a bit on the heavy side as she heaves it across the car park towards her truck, but she manages it. When she’s got everything all loaded up beside the bags and bags of logs she’s worked up a sweat and has to unzip her coat as she climbs up into the driver’s seat. The truck feels empty without her little border terrier, and she finds herself wishing Harley could have been with her for this new adventure.
It had been her publisher’s idea to go on this little escapade, to get her out of the city, away from all the distractions. He cared more about the lack of pages than her deteriorating mental health, but for the sake of her sanity she had agreed that a month-long retreat into the mountains might do more for her writer’s block than being in her too quiet apartment. Her creative juices had bit the dust around the same time she’d had to make the heart-breaking decision to have Harley put to sleep.
His other idea had been to get a new dog. She’d used some extraordinarily strong language at that suggestion, so… mountains.
She feels fairly well prepared. Provisioned. Whatever. The cabin her publisher had found had been empty for a few years, and she had been warned that it may take a bit of work to get the generator working, and that there would be no mobile signal out there either. But she had been equipped with a satellite phone and the publisher had done some technological whizz-bang magic that meant she would be able to send and receive emails via satellite. She’d also done her own extensive research, which hopefully meant that once she arrived, she wouldn’t have to make the drive back to civilisation until her month was up and her first draft was on its way. She had churned out three books a year at some points, she could manage this.
She reaches over to the passenger seat to pick up one of her many notebooks, this one was her ‘survival plan’.
“Snow tyres, check. Firewood, yes. Socks, hundreds…”
She went down the whole list, covering everything from dry shampoo to copious amounts of candy and snacks. She’d even found a repair manual for the generator online, and had both printed and laminated it, just to be thorough.
“Okay, let’s do this.” She says aloud, still not used to Harley’s absence. The truck’s engine whines a little as it starts up, and she takes a moment to put the map (also laminated) on top of the paperwork piled up on the passenger seat. She still had a few hours until noon, plenty of time to get to the cabin while it was still light and make some sort of order out of it before dark.
The first two hours of her journey went as expected. She didn’t even miss the hairpin turn she had been dreading, but as the bare trees began to curl over the road and block the sun, she felt a prickle of unease. Wishing again for Harley. What was she thinking? A woman, on her own, hiding out in a run-down cabin in the middle of nowhere, all for a book she was contracted to write but had no heart for.
The last four years of her career had been dedicated to her high fantasy trilogy, the world, its characters, its mysteries. Mystery solved and arcs resolved, her baby was done. Before that she had spent years churning out a crappy serial romance saga before a well-earned break funded by selling the rights to turn them into a television series. That was until the inspiration for The Fallen had hit her. But of course, the publishers were keen to squeeze out more profit, and had coerced her into signing another book deal. They wanted a revival of the romance saga, but after over twelve years of being free from churning out two or three contentless books a year, it wasn’t something she wanted to revisit. Besides, it felt ridiculous to be in her early thirties, and turning back to something she started when she was only seventeen. Something different. She didn’t know how to write different. She had planned to save the existential breakdown until she’d arrived and at least got a fire going, but apparently her brain hadn’t got the memo, and she had to pull over to stumble from the truck and put her head between her knees. She focused on her breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose… “C’mon, you can do this.” … out through the mouth.
As she climbed back into the truck sometime later, she heard an engine and slammed her door shut just in time to see beaten up chevy truck thundering past, black smoke sputtering from its exhaust. The driver beeped their horn at her, and her panic was replaced with annoyance. She’d picked a safe place to pull over, she wasn’t blocking the road. Hell, that dick didn’t even have to move positions from the centre of the road.
Apart from the short break at the side of the road, and a five-minute detour down the wrong lane, Y/N was making good time. The only problem came when the cabin was actually in sight. A tree was blocking the drive, and nowhere on the map could she pick out any way to go around. The cabin looked to be only a ten-minute walk away, but everything was blanketed in thick snow, and she had a months’ worth of wood, food, water…not to mention all her writing stuff, clothes, blankets… beers. It would take an insane number of trips and eat into her daylight. But the tree was huge, and even if she had a chain or ropes to try and pull it out of the way, she had no idea how she’d do so safely. That wasn’t something she had researched how to do.
She climbed out and her legs disappeared up to her knees in the thick snow. Not to be put off by the first hurdle, she found the keys for the cabin, gathered up the only valuable things in the truck (namely her laptop and the satellite phone), and locked the truck behind her. The tree had a tangle of roots, so it seemed to have fallen naturally. Not that she really knew what she was looking at. She skirted around the edge and stomped through the snow towards the cabin, which was bigger than she had imagined. The ‘ten minute’ walk took closer to fifteen minutes, hampered by the snow, and then there was the issue of trying to get the door open. The wood seemed to have swelled, and she had to throw her shoulder against it several times before it burst open in a cloud of dust.
It stank. It had that unlived in smell, like stagnant water, and she kept the door open – not just for the light – but for the fresh air.
It was much as she expected really, a small kitchenette (which really was just a log stove and a cobweb infested sink with a single section of worktop) with a small dining table and four chairs. A mismatched armchair and leather sofa tucked close to a log burner. Two doors stood off the one side, presumably to a bedroom and a bathroom.
“Right.” She said, setting her laptop bag down and wondering what to do first.
The owners hadn’t been sure that the water supply would still work, which is why she had lugged her own plastic barrels up here, but if it was working, she wouldn’t have to carry so many.
The pumped the lever over the sink a few times, still flushed from the hard walk. After a few tries, the tap sputtered out a dead spider and rust coloured liquid, followed a moment later by clear, precious water. The initial horror at the colour of the stuff still had her deciding to get some water from the truck, however.
“Okay.” She said to herself, stepping back. “Water, oil, logs, clothes for the night, bedding, cleaning stuff. Food.” She ran through her list again and then nodded, satisfied. On her way out of the door she spotted a big old wooden sled propped up under the window.
“Perfect.”
Her second trip took longer than the first, fighting the sled the entire way and almost losing the barrel of water. It slid off the sled and looked for a moment like it might roll clean of the mountain, but the packed snow stopped it in its tracks.
Catching her breath for the next trip, she checked the other side of the two doors. Discovering to her horror that both led to bedrooms, then – to her relief – that the master bedroom had a rather basic en suite. It contained one of those giant clawfoot baths you only ever saw in movies, though this one was an old-fashioned green colour and a bit rusty around the plug. She hoped she could get the generator running to enjoy a soak at some point.
She tested the double bed in the master bedroom, and then checked both the twin beds, testing which of the three was the most comfortable, and therefore the one she would be using. The other bedroom, she would use as storage for all her supplies. The big bed in the room with the en suite was fortunately the comfiest, which meant she could pile all her stuff into the room with the twin beds.
She found an old oil lamp in the kitchen cupboards and a little paraffin heater in the cupboard under the sink. It was the ancient kind with no warning labels. Though common sense filled in the unwritten ‘use in a well-ventilated space or you will suffocate’. She set it up, just to take the edge of until she could get a fire going and put the lamp on the dining table next to her laptop, deciding there and then that this evening would be electricity free. She didn’t want to have to deal with the frustrations of the generator, and it seemed encompassing of her new mountain persona to forgo some of the basic necessities.
Two trips later and her hands are blistered from the friction of the sled rope, even through her gloves. Her legs are screaming at her, and despite the three thick pairs of socks, she would put all her royalties betting on frost bite setting in. There’s one last trip to make sure she has everything she’ll need for the night and most of the next day, and then she covers the flatbed of her truck with its waterproof cover and makes sure it’s stupidly tight. None of her things will enjoy a night in the freezing cold, but as long as nothing gets too damp, everything will be fine.
The door had been open all this time, so the cabin is now just as chilled as outside, but at least it smells fresher now. Her phone – devoid of all signal – becomes a glorified sound system. The oil heater starts to inject a little warmth, and as soon as it’s warm enough to abandon her coat and gloves, she gets to work on making the place fit for habitation.
“…As long as my heart's beating, and these old lungs keep breathing, the highs and the lows, yes and the no’s…” She sings loudly as she sweeps out the log stove of half burnt longs and powdery grey ash.
By the time the sun is setting, the whole cabin is as dust free as it can be without a hoover, the log fire is roaring, the bed is made, and the only lingering issue is the draft from the front door, which – having been forced to open – is now refusing to close properly. Having decided that the back and forth from the truck was enough work for one day, Y/N simply snacks instead of making a dinner and then sits by the fire with her notebook and pen. The flannel patterned throw she’d bought from home depot thrown over her legs.
Nothing comes. Not even a silly doodle in the margin. True, she usually wrote on her laptop. But the charge wouldn’t last long, and she’d been prepared to write this book by hand.
Even with the fire and the blanket there seems to be a wickedly cool draft, and she makes a note to put a makeshift draft excluder together in the morning. Finished with her bag of chips, she stands to select another snack and grab a beer, missing Harley weaving between her legs. She twists the cap of the beer bottle and walks back to the sofa and freezes in surprise.
On the sofa, is a pleased looking black Labrador.
The beer bottle slips from her fingers and shatters on the floor. The dilemma of broken glass and soft paws snapping her out of her shock.
“Hello…” She says slowly, answered by a thumping tail on brown leather. “You stay there. Okay?”
thump thump thump
“Okay, good boy… girl… good dog. Stay.”
Fortunately all the cleaning supplies are in easy reach. Y/N focuses on sweeping up the broken glass as a priority, ignoring the beer sloshing around the stone floor and seeping into the rope rug. Glass sorted; she gets a cloth to wipe the beer up. The front door in ajar, which explains how the dog got in. But it doesn’t explain what they’re doing out here in the middle of nowhere. They seem happy enough, well fed, shiny coat, wet nose. So they’re obviously being cared for by someone.
“Okay, it’s safe.” She tells the Labrador from the floor once she’s sure all the glass is up. They seem to be a pro at broken bottles, because with the all-clear, they jump from the sofa and come greet her properly.
“Oh, yes, hello. Nice to meet you too.” She tells them, trying to shove their face away as their tongue makes a beeline for her mouth. She giggles, giving their neck a good scratch. There’s a chain collar, but no tags.
“Where are you from, huh?” She asks, attempting to stand, her knees protesting against the stone floor.
There’s a tremendous bang and the front door flies open. Halfway to her feet, Y/N loses her balance and topples onto her back, staring up into the doorway.
Where a bearded man in a Stetson and a heavy coat is pointing a shotgun at her.
PART TWO
#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#spn fanfic#dean/reader#mountain man dean#dean winchester likes dogs
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one true love.
Dark!Peter Parker x Dark!GN!Reader
Main Masterlist
Summary : Peter will go threw everything to keep you safe, protected and most importantly always his. He saw you as the person he observed and watched for the past few months, the sweet, kind girl that stopped to pet stray dogs or smiled at everyone who needed it. But somethings he never took notice of, some things that would’ve made him love you even more.
Warnings : THIS IS A DARK FIC! I am not responsible for your media consumption but if any of these topics or just dark fics on a whole trigger you please do not read! cursing, murders, blood, violence, mention of sexual assault, death, stalking, graphic description of a dead body, homicide, fluffy if you squint, use of guns and knifes.
A/n : If any description throughout the one shot does not pertain to a gender neutral reader please let me know :-) also if i missed anything in the warnings.
Word Count : 1.8k
...
The definition of love is something that never stays constant as its experienced from person to person. Even to that very being, the meaning changes every year, month, day even hour, from what that individual may feel in that moment. In some cases, it may be the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to someone, changing there life in ways they could never even imagine.
In other cases, it could break a person whole, bit by bit, tearing down at who they once were. Emotions like guilt and regret, jealously and remorse running through there veins, thinking that love is only made to destroy the ones foolish enough to believe it exists.
Then you have the rare case of love at first sight.
Now, some may argue that this concept that only seems to show up in movies and TV shows is complete bullshit, that it doesn’t exist.
“You can’t look at someone and automatically know they’re the one for you,” Ned said to him one day, pulling his head out of his chemistry book,“What if they’re an awful person? What if they do something constantly that you don’t like? Seriously, looking at someone and knowing there the one is just basing It of there’s looks or something,”
Peter didn’t respond, afraid that he might lash out at the only friend he’s managed to keep throughout the years. He thought about the last statement a lot, wondering if all he ever really felt was the physical attraction.
But no, that pull you feel when you look at someone for the fist time, watching there movements with whatever tasks they’re doing at the moment, even if it’s nothing at all. Falling entranced with there every gesture, taking in every curve and colour, memorising every feature.
It wasn’t just looking at their appearance, it was taking note of how they moved, how they acted, how they laughed, god there laugh is like music to your ears. It was watching and observing, that’s what Ned missed in his little speech.
Then of course you have the people who don’t believe in love, which was something he could understand.
Before he saw you.
For Peter, love was not a strong enough word to describe what he felt for his one true love. The way you made his heart stop with one smile, his face red with one touch, his hands sweat with one word. In your eyes, he found his entire world.
And he destined for you to be his.
The countess nights he spent dreaming of you, laying besides him. He longed to touch you, to feel your skin against his, to mark you with his love. He shocked himself with the self control he had to maintain around you especially when it came to the people you hung out with.
The amount of times he wanted to run out of hiding and crack the skull of some idiot who decided to talk to you or dare even look at you in any suggestive matter. The thought make him gag every time, but he’d like to think that you already knew that he was looking over you, that you belonged to him. That’s why you never took any of them on, that’s why you turned them down.
He couldn’t blame them for trying, but they had no chance since they would be gone the next day.
Which is why he hoped you could forgive him for what he did, for what he had to do.
The body laid in the back seat, wrapped tightly in a bag. There was no blood spilled, sadly, only the indents of his hands on the base of his neck.
It was fun, watching the life drain from his eyes as he listed off every bad thing he’s ever done, mainly to you, but he threw in a few more ex’s just to spice things up a bit more. Maybe he shouldn’t have killed him, maybe he should’ve just let him walk free with the threats he shoved down his throat.
But then he had to call you a bitch, from that point he knew his life would just be a waste of oxygen.
Peter let out a chuckle at the memory, at the fake confidence he showed, struggling in his hold. It truly was a sight to behold, one that made his realise why he enjoyed being Spiderman so much.
Seeing people suffer for there terrible mistakes and knowing that he had the power to punish them.
The drive was long and quiet, one of his hands was on top the steering wheel, tapping to an imaginary beat while the other settled on the arm rest. The streets were rather empty at this hour to Peter’s surprise, making him smirk that he would get away with the murder.
Maybe he could’ve stolen a better car.
But he was doing everyone a favour and he was keeping you safe.
He took a right into a dense forest, his car moving with with the bumps on the course road. When he felt like he was deep enough down the path, he hit the breaks, cringing at the squeaking noise it made.
Regardless, the exited the vehicle, opening the trunk to grab a shovel. He knew that there were a number of more efficient ways to get rid of the body, one that could’ve used his position in the avengers to his advantage, but his old techniques started to grow repetitive.
It didn’t take him as long as he thought though, the hole he dug was around eight feet deep and hopefully the right size to fit the body. Dropping the shovel to the floor, he walked back to the car not to worried about his surroundings knowing that no one ever visited this part of the forest.
He grabbed the body from the back seat, throwing it over his shoulder carrying it to the hole and tossing it inside without care. He smiled at the bag as he filled the hole a quarter of the way.
“Time to find an animal now shall we?” He whispered to himself, pulling out the hunters knife from the back of his pants along with a flash light, “Just incase,”
As he walked threw the trees and bushes, keeping look out for any movements he heard a gun shot cut threw the air. He gripped his knife, walking carefully towards the noise.
Oh how he was sorry for the poor lad that decided to be here this night, but he had too do what had to be done.
Suddenly he was sent back by a force jumping on his back. He fell to the floor with a thud, his body forcefully turned over with a gun pointed directly between his eyes.
“Y/n?” He froze, his breath becoming heavier at how close your face was to his. Now he understood why his spider senses didn’t alert him, because you weren’t a threat to him, you could never be.
“Peter,” you whispered, lowering your gun, scrambling off of his body much to his dismay, “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” He asked back, still shocked at you proximity to him, talking with him, breathing the same air as him.
“You answer first,” you said quickly.
“No you,” Peter said back, crossing his arms.
“I-,” you started, but looked down, trying to hide your bashfulness, but it only drew attention to the blood dripping from your hair.
“Baby,” Peter whispered, walking up to you to grab your face, any sense of self control left his body after seeing the state you were in, “What happened,”
Peter thought it was some attack on you and judging by the amount of blood covering your skin, you had to defend yourself. He expected you to look up with the innocent eyes he’s studied for so long, finally getting a chance to get a closer look.
But instead, you raised your head with a sinister smile gracing your feature, you stepped out of his embrace, taking his hand in yours.
“Let me show you,” you whispered, in an almost sultry voice sending shivers down his spine.
You pulled him to a tree, taking the flashlight held in his fingers and pointed the light to the base of the trunk. Peter stared confused at the sight, walking forward slightly to inspect the slumped body. It was tied down tightly with rope around the waist and mouth, cutting threw the skin deeply showing signs of struggle. There was multiple stab wounds in the stomach, words carved in there legs that he couldn’t make out with the dirt and blood covering them. He did however notice his name on her forehead and the bullet wound in the middle.
The streaks of blond in the hair falling in front of the face told him that this body belonged to Gwen Stacy.
“When she started talking to you I could see how uncomfortable she made you,” you started, looking to the floor while playing with the dirt with the sole of your shoe, “I- I didn’t like how close she got to you, and- and since she bothered you too I- I thought we were doing us both a favour,”
Peter stood back up, looking back at you. He wondered how somebody so insane could hide it so well. Even with the evidence painted over you, he still saw you as incapable of ever doing anything like this.
The thought made him laugh loudly, walking up to you and grabbing your face.
“I fucking love you,” he laughed more, making you smile brightly as he put his forehead against yours, “You’re perfect I swear,”
You laughed along with him, putting away your gun in your pack pocket, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“I’ve- I’ve so long for this,” you giggled, pressing your nose into his neck, basking in his sick scent, “But, what are you doing here?”
Peter giggled as well, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, “Same reason at you my love,”
Your eyes widened, you placed your hand on his cheek, bringing his lips back into yours. It was longer and sloppier than the first, both of you getting use to the movements but also desperate for the feeling.
Peter backed you up against another tree, pressing his body against yours, his deluded mind not reregistering how fucked up the situation was, but he loved every second. His lips moved down to your neck, sucking and bitting at the skin, drawing out delicious moans from your mouth.
“Fuck,” you sputtered, biting your lip and tangling your fingers in his hair, both of you not paying mind to the blood, sweat and dirt, “I’ve- I’ve wanted this for so long Peter,”
“Me too baby,” he said, tightening his hold on your waist, “Me too, now how about we hide these bodies together hmm?” He tickled your sides lightly, grinning at the giggle you let out, “Then I’m gonna take you home and make up for lost time,”
...
--->Interested in more? check out my other Dark!Peter fic<---
Hearts, reblogs and comments always appreciated 🥰
Taglist: @jadegill @joyleenl @ietss
#peter parker#dark!peter parker#dark!peter#dark!peter parker x reader#dark!reader#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker x y/n#peter parker x gn!reader#dark!peter parker x dark!reader#spiderman x reader#peter parker angst#peter parker smut#peter parker fluff#yandere!peter parker
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How about 4 or 18 for the drabble/ficlet thing? Your choice!
18. Do you ever think we should just stop this?
Thank you so much for the ask, I know you asked it awhile ago (so im sorry it took so long!) but at least its finished, so that's something. Its a bit awkward as im still working on getting into the groove of writing, but I think its okay, and hopefully you’ll like it!! <3
~~~
Sometime in the seventies…
“Johnny…d’you ever think we should stop this”
“Stop what?” John replied, half asleep, as he shuffled Paul closer into his arms.
“Y’know…this.” Paul paused, but after receiving nothing but silence from John, he continued “This affair; sneaking behind everyone’s backs. We’ve just been on and off again for the past however many years-”
“And being “off” didn’t work for us, remember?”
They were in some hotel bed, lost in the damp streets of New York.
“Yeah, I remember…”
***
It had all started again with that visit to Johns, after Linda had turned to John and asked him “Do you miss England much John?”
“Frankly, I miss Paris.” He hadn’t even turned to even look at Paul, but both knew too well the subtext of that statement.
***
Finally, they had a second alone together.
“What the fuck was that John?” Paul had half-whispered, so that none of the others in the next room could here they’re arguing.
Underwhelmingly, John retorted with “Hm?”
“Y’know what…all that Paris shite”
John could hardly contain a smile, “Well, I miss Paris. It’s a nice city!”
There was a silence until Paul broke it with his realisation, “You’re gonna be difficult about this, aren’t you?”, then shaking his head, he added with an air of light-heartedness, “You’ve always been difficult.”
“And you’ve always loved that about me, eh Macca?”
“I haven’t” he replied defensively though smiling. “What did you mean with that Paris comment then? Don’t be difficult for once and just tell me, eh.”
John swallowed, a little anxious he replied, “I want to be with you. Again.”
“Johnny, don’t start this again-”
“Well why the fuck not Paul? I miss you, you miss me, so why don’t we just say fuck it and be together”
“Because!” he replied frustratedly, “I have Linda, and you have Yoko, or May, or whoever the fuck you’re with these days! I have a family – and I can’t risk sacrificing everything and everyone in my life just so that you can string me along for a few good fucks when you’re down and out.” He paused, then insisted, “I love you Johnny, you can convince yerself I don’t mean that, but I do. But I just can’t waste another year having an affair with you. Were in a good place, the two of us – we don’t argue like we used to…
And I know you – you’re self-sabotaging, and so just when things are going good for us, you’ll cheat on me, or you’ll leave me, or you’ll insist im leaving you when I just want to be close to you.”
“Well, Dr. Freud…” John joked, then taking a few slow steps closer to him, and cupping Pauls hands in his own, “I won’t this time…”
But Paul was quick to interrupt with, “Ive gotta be honest, I dont believe you mate. I mean I can’t believe you, can I Johnny?” He asked rhetorically.
John remained silent, in a moment of self-reflection – but Paul had untangled his hands from the others, and had already turned around ready to leave.
But with a total shift in tone, John erupted with, “D’you know you were never perfect either, now were ye Paul!” Paul turned around to look at him, he had a stern look in his eyes. “I mean, how was I ever meant to believe anything you’d ever bloody said when you were always so fucking inhibited!
Used to drive me insane, never being able to tell what you were thinking.” His tone, though still aggressive, was getting weaker with every word.
Paul’s look had softened, but he was slow to respond with, “Johnny…” He took a step closer to him, “Johnny, could you really make something like this work?”
John simply sighed. He recognised in that distressed look of Pauls that, no, he probably could not make this work; he recognised that he’d never made any relationship work, because he’s never allowed one to work; he recognised that he could be marinated with all the love in the universe, and he’d still convince himself that everyone would ultimately abandon him.
But perhaps most significantly, he recognised that he was a lost cause – therapy won’t change shit, because he’s never going to be able to dust away that spiders-web of self-loathing that’s been building up in his lungs and in his heart and in his head his whole life. He is Gods lonely man.*
However, before he could articulate this recognition, he was taken by surprise when Paul took a step closer, grasped him by his hips, and enclosed their lips with a kiss. It was a kiss guided by a plea: a plea to John to just allow Paul to love him this time, forget self-sabotage, leave destruction in the past. But this kiss was also tainted with a plea to either let love in, or let him the fuck out. He really cannot survive another relationship with John if it’s going to consist of a cycle of renewal, abandonment, renewal, abandonment, renewal, abandonment etc.
They broke away, Pauls hands still urgently grasping his shirt. They looked into one another’s eyes, because while they weren’t so great with verbal communication, they always had a way of reading each other’s mind. They were both so desperate, and yet so fucking tired.
“Paul…I don’t know if I can do it.” Defeated, Paul turned his head away from Johns gaze, though his hands remained tightly clenched to Johns shirt. “I think…I think I’m just meant to be alone; I don’t want to be, but ive done it all! Therapy, drugs, Jesus – whatever it is that’s meant to make mad men sane…has never worked for me.”
Paul turned to look back at him; staring urgently into his eyes, he asked “Would you try? Would you try to let this work for us?”
“I’ve been trying me whole bloody life Paul. Or at least, since I met you.”
“Since you met me…” Paul absent-mindedly muttered.
They were silent for the moment, until Paul blurted out softly, “Y’know, I have always loved you. What you were saying about me a minute ago there, bein’ “inhibited” and that – well I know ive always confused you a bit…always been an enigma.
But I have always loved you. D’you know that Johnny?”
“I know…” he said unconvincingly in response, so quietly even Paul who was mere centimetres from his lips could hardly hear him.
Nervously, John pulled Pauls hips closer to his own, and pressed his lips to Pauls. It wasn’t so much a kiss of passion, but more so the calm after the storm. Still, it was a much needed calm that each melted into so sincerely.
Maybe this could work – then again, it probably won’t. But do they have any choice but to try?
*A line I stole from the movie Taxi Driver (1975)
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Slipping Through the Cracks
By Hale13
For the Summer of Whump Day 5 - Broken
Just when his life was finally leveling out Parker luck struck again. Peter has had four opportunities with parents and has lost all of them. The way he sees it, this is the least of what he deserves.
Post-Homecoming - Tony didn’t meet with Peter immediately to offer him a place on the Avengers.
Words: 3856, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English
Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Rating: Gen-Teen
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan, Ned Leeds
TW: Depression, Dissociation, a single line of Suicidal Ideation, Referenced Child Abuse
Read on AO3 or below the line break.
Peter was silent as he exited Midtown with Ned keeping a quiet pace with him. Seven months ago they would be just as excited as their classmates for the weekend, for the plans that they surely would have made to build Legos or marathon movies or even to just study together. Ned would have been ecstatic to set up in Peter’s bedroom as his ‘guy in the chair’ while Peter did a quick patrol or two. If they were at Peter’s instead of Ned’s, May would attempt some new dish that would, inevitably, be awful and they would order pizza from their favorite place for dinner.
Now Peter never saw any of his limited friend group outside of school. He didn’t build Legos or watch movies or eat take-out pizza and he certainly wasn’t Spider-Man anymore – he had given that up after the Homecoming disaster when he had destroyed Mr. Stark’s plane.
It had been just over six months since he had found May dead in their kitchen and Peter didn’t really do anything at all anymore.
The ER doctors told Peter that she had an undiagnosed aneurysm that had finally burst – there was no way for anyone to know. She went quickly. She felt no pain. There was nothing that Peter could have done even if he was there when it happened.
The reassurances meant nothing really – Peter was numb. May was his last living family member, he had no one else and nowhere to turn. He can vaguely remember telling the social worker that was with him when they told him the news about May that he was alone now. He can remember being taken forcibly from the hospital before he was ready to go, wanting to kick and scream and drag his heels but too shocked to do so. And then everything was a blur.
Somewhere in his mind he knew that he had been allowed to pack up everything important from their apartment to go into storage until he was eighteen besides the bag of essentials he had for himself. He knew that everything else was donated or sold to pay off their remaining debt and the medical bills he had incurred by calling for help when he found May on the kitchen floor. He knew that the social worker told him that, even after selling everything, they couldn’t afford a funeral. He has a business card in his wallet with the number of the crematorium that was holding May’s ashes until he was old enough to retrieve them and, hopefully, give her a proper burial in their family plot next to Ben.
He spent the two weeks after in a group home, mute and dissociating with seven other boys in similar situations. He didn’t go to school, but he remembers the constant stream of unanswered texts and calls from Ned and MJ before his phone plan was discontinued then his phone became a dead relic in his bag. There were a lot of discussions about school that Peter didn’t take part in but, thanks to his full scholarship, he was able to continue at Midtown at least until the end of the year.
And then he was placed with his foster parents.
The Fishers seemed to be pleasant people when Peter first met them; they didn’t force him to speak, they had extensive fostering experience with teenagers and were willing to pay for his subway pass so he could get to and from his school even though there was a decent public school in walking distance. It didn’t take long, however, for their true colors to show.
Now, though, Peter knew the rules. He was always home by his curfew of four on school days and he never went out on the weekends. His grades were perfect. He kept his undecorated room spotless. He cooked supper every evening and breakfast and dinner on the weekends. He kept the house presentable. He stayed out of the Fishers way. Mostly he drifted. His days slid together to the point he had difficultly remembering entire weeks passing him by but it was fine.
He was fine.
“I’ll see you Monday,” Ned muttered as he split off to get in his mom’s car, not acknowledging the pathetic little wave Peter offered in return. A coiling feeling settled in his gut and Perter felt guilt rise up to swirl in his throat. Ned was his best friend and he was treating him like shit. With Peter basically unresponsive, bullies had taken to picking on Ned instead… well except for Flash. Flash had been the only one to back off and stand up for both of them – it helped but didn’t fix everything.
“Better if he leaves you now,” a little voice in his head whispered. “It’s better to be alone.” And maybe at one point he would have fought against that mindset but now he couldn’t help but agree. Peter destroyed everything he touched and everyone around him was doomed for misery. Better for Ned to get out while he could.
Lethargically, Peter began across the empty football field toward the subway entrance – his trip home was always a little tight and he couldn’t afford to miss this train.
“Peter!” A harried voice shouted as his shoulder was grabbed and he was roughly turned around to face a red-faced and irritated Happy Hogan. Peter’s mind blanked for a moment in total shock at seeing the man again after so long. “Didn’t you hear me calling for you?”
“Sorry Mr. Hogan,” Peter mumbled, not making eye contact. He felt the phantom sting from the slap he had gotten for that when he first moved into foster care burning his bare cheek.
“The Boss has been calling you, he wants to chat. You screening our calls now?” Happy asked, accusatory as his eyes raked down Peter’s form. Peter felt a shiver crawl up his spine and kept his sight locked on Happy’s chin, trying to remain as relaxed as possible. It was important to not draw any unwanted attention to himself.
“No sir,” he answered, voice a little rough and quiet with disuse. “I don’t have a phone anymore.” Happy huffed and narrowed his eyes at Peter before steering him to the expensive Audi parked in front of the school.
“No matter, he wants to talk to you in person anyway. Hop in and I’ll take you to the Tower.” Peter gulped and fought the urge to dig his heels in – it wouldn’t be polite.
“I have a curfew of four,” he protested weakly as Happy pulled open the door for him and motioned for him to climb in. Peter hesitated but relented when Happy gave him a little shrug.
“I’m sure May will understand and Tony can always give her a call to clear anything up.” And with that Peter was gone. No one had said her name since she died and the thought… the very implication that he could still be living with his aunt, happy and carefree, was insane. His mind floated away and he felt like he was watching himself as a specter. He saw his body relax but his eyes were distant, cloudy. Happy, for the first time that Peter could remember, didn’t raise the partition between the front and rear seats and, instead, watched Peter in the rear view mirror.
The drive to the Tower took over thirty minutes with traffic and Peter would be panicking about how late he was going to be if he had any capacity to feel at all. Instead, he let his mind wander as the skyscrapers of Manhattan blurred into a grey mosaic outside the window, fat raindrops sporadically hitting the window as a drizzle started. “We’re here,” Happy told him as he parked the car in the underground garage that was reserved for Mr. Stark and other high level staff of the Tower. Peter popped his door open and followed the man to the private elevator that he assumed would take them to Mr. Stark’s office.
“Hello Happy. Hello Peter,” the disembodied voice of Mr. Stark’s AI, FRIDAY, said as the doors closed and the elevator began to move. “Boss is awaiting your arrival in his workshop.”
“Thanks FRIDAY,” Happy said, texting intently on his phone. Peter just remained silent as the elevator began to slow before stopping completely, the doors trundling open soundlessly. Happy nudged Peter out but remained inside the car as the doors closed, leaving Peter alone in the sleek room.
Tony was seated in front of a large hologram of his armor, code scrolling past on his monitor as he made adjustments. “Mr. Parker,” he said as Peter edged closer to him, not looking up from his work. “You’re a hard man to get in contact with.”
Though Tony sounded more forthright than angry, Peter still had to fight the cringe in his shoulders as he came to a stop about ten feet away from the work bench – out of reach and with enough time to prepare if the man were to make any sudden moves. “Sorry,” he murmured, keeping his eyes low and doing his best to keep his shoulders from curling in – the last thing he needed to do was show any weakness.
“No need for apologies,” Tony said, light, as he fiddled with a holo mechanism in the right repulser. “Just a statement of fact. According to the news Spider-Man has also been just as difficult to find.”
Peter just hummed in response, choosing not to comment on his previous alter-ego. He didn’t much feel like a hero these days.
“A man of few words,” Tony commented, shutting down the programs in front of him and turning to face Peter fully. “Are you the same kid who was talking my ear off in Germany a year ago?”
“Yes sir,” Peter said, keeping his eyes focused on Tony’s chin. He could feel his mind slipping as his heart rate sped up and he struggled to keep present – it was getting harder and harder to stay in the moment the more he allowed himself to get lost in his head. He occasionally dreamed that one day it might be permanent; one of the few good dreams he had.
“Sir?” Tony parroted, his eyebrows raising and a flash of guilt washing over his features quickly before disappearing. “Look kid, I think I owe you an apology. Actually, I know I owe you an apology. I didn’t communicate with you about the whole alien weapons take-down thing. I underestimated you and treated you like a side-kick and ignored you and then I left you alone and without any protection and you saved my bacon anyway.”
“I deserved it,” Peter said matter-of-factly. “I was in over my head and I disobeyed. The punishment fit the crime.”
“No it didn’t,” Tony told him bluntly but firmly, looking surprised but resolute. “Maybe we both share some fault in the situation but I’m the adult and the one with experience and I didn’t do anything to teach you or help you and for that I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Peter assured him, allowing himself to tap his index finger against his thigh once to let out his stress. Mr. Fisher didn’t like his constant fidgeting and Peter knew that it was pretty annoying so he had done his best to learn how to stand as still as possible to not incur any extra punishments – the index finger tap he was able to normally get away with.
Mr. Stark’s eyes were narrowed as he surveyed Peter. “I wanted to offer you a real spot as my intern. You could spend a few days a week in the shop working on tech and I made you a new and improved suit for the other part of your ‘internship’. I promise that you’ll always have the support you need to be New York’s Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. You’re the future of the Avengers, kid, its pretty clear to me now. Your spot on the team is there whenever you want to take it.”
For the briefest of moments, Peter was overwhelmed with excitement and incredulity. Ever since Tony had announced he was Iron Man to the world, Peter had wanted nothing more than to be a superhero as well, to be an Avenger. If Tony had offered him a spot on the team after Germany, Peter would have taken it in an instant. Now…
“Thank you Mr. Stark,” Peter said, voice still a little broken and hoarse from how little he spoke these days. “But I can’t.”
“Oh you don’t have to join now,” the man assured, misunderstanding. “You’ll need some training first but Rhodey and Vision are always down to join us at the compound for some group work. You have a lot of potential.”
“Thanks but that’s not what I meant,” Peter clarified. “I have to decline all of it but I appreciate the offer.”
“Oh,” Tony looked a little crestfallen, a dark expression of acceptance on his defined features. “I understand. Broken trust and all that. Sure.”
“It’s not that,” Peter reassured quickly. “I don’t hold anything against you – I was the one who messed up. It’s just I have a four o’clock curfew every day so I can’t do the internship.”
“That’s easily remedied!” Mr. Stark said, his eyes lifting with a smile and looking relieved. “I’ll just give Aunt Hottie a call and work things out and we’ll have you in the lab and out swinging through the streets in no time!”
Peter’s ears fuzzed out again, a sharp high-pitched note cutting off Tony’s excited words as a feeling of immense emotion flooded through Peter before he could tamp it down. His breathing felt a little ragged in his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut for just a moment to gather himself. “My aunt is dead,” Peter gritted out, interrupting Tony and rendering him speechless. “She died six months ago. My foster… the people fostering me are a little more strict.”
“Oh,” Tony said, face blank and an awkward silence filling the space. Peter gripped his worn down backpack straps and backed toward the elevator.
“Thanks for the offer,” Peter said earnestly. “It really is an honor I just…” he trailed off. “Thanks. For everything.”
And with that, he entered the elevator and pushed the button for the lobby, the doors shutting on Tony’s pitying expression before the man could say anything much to Peter’s relief. The metro card the Fishers had gotten him only had a set amount of money on it every month so Peter would be hoofing it back to their house from the Tower. His cracked watch face told him that it was already close to four-thirty and his stomach bubbled with anxiety. At this rate he wouldn’t be back in time to have dinner on the table at five-thirty.
Resigned to his punishments, Peter left the building through the shining lobby and pointed himself toward Queens, moving as fast as he could.
——————-
“You’re late,” Mr. Fishers’s tone was short and monotonous from where he was seated on the couch. The house was otherwise quiet which meant Mrs. Fisher was out that evening.
“I’m sorry sir,” Peter whispered looking at the floor and making no excuses. He had learned the hard way that trying to justify his poor behavior only made things worse for him in the long run.
“Go to your room,” Mr. Fisher told him making Peter cringe. “I’ll join you in a moment.”
Later, when Peter was lying on the bed with silent tears still leaking from his eyes and his back and ribs stinging in pain, he thought about Mr. Stark’s offer with selfish desire. In another universe, in another life, he would have been elated but now he only felt desolation - life always did like to dangle things in front of him he couldn’t have.
Setting his alarm for five-thirty so he wouldn’t oversleep, Peter let his consciousness slip away into the ether, mind going blissfully empty and blank.
——————-
Monday came both faster and slower than Peter wanted. His body still ached from his well-deserved punishment and he was exhausted from the extra chores and minimal food he had been offered as a result of his actions. School passed in a lonely blur for him as he drifted from class to class, hiding away in the deserted music room during lunch to avoid Ned and MJ. They didn’t ask as many questions anymore but Peter didn’t want to put himself in a situation where he would have to lie to his friends again.
When the final bell of the day rang, Peter chose to not stop by his locker where he may be ambushed and, instead, left the school, headed directly for the subway. He had nearly made it when a body physically blocked him from the stairs.
“Howdy Pete,” Mr. Stark said, peering over his glasses to look at Peter and Peter did his best to school his expression into indifference. He couldn’t be late again. He couldn’t take another punishment, he was just so tired all he wanted to do was sleep. Maybe forever. “Where are you headed?”
“Back to my fosters,” Peter told him, trying to skirt around. “I have a four o’clock curfew.”
“I remember you saying something about that,” Mr. Stark agreed with a nod. “Tell you what – let me give you a ride home. You’ll get home well before your curfew and I can talk to your foster parents about the internship. Who can say no to Tony Stark right?”
“NO!” Peter said loudly before smacking a palm over his mouth. He could feel the blood draining from his face as his body tensed, preparing for the correction he knew was coming. Mr. Stark’s brow was furrowed now and his eyes behind his blue glasses had a twinkle of understanding in them.
“Peter,” he began, reaching a hand out with the intention of lying his hand on Peter’s shoulder but he never got that far. Seeing the hand coming towards him and already being on high alert after his exclamation, Peter violently flinched away, only barely able to catch himself from falling over due to his enhanced reflexes, and squeezed his eyes shut tight. “Oh Peter,” Tony said, a desolate understanding in his voice.
Peter cracked his eyes open to see Mr. Stark with both hands raised in the universal ‘backing off’ signal, a soft look on his face. “Sorry sir,” Peter croaked out. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s fine.”
“Do you have something you need to tell me kiddo?” Tony’s voice was soft and gentle and Peter felt his eyes well up with tears he hastily blinked away as he shook his head quickly. “It’s okay buddy. You can tell me.”
“I’m fine. I’m okay. It’s fine.” Tony looked even more crestfallen at Peter’s answer and tapped the side of his glasses to activate FRIDAY.
“Can you I’ve me a scan FRI?” He asked and Peter flinched again knowing there was no way to hide the broken and healing bones and skin that he had been doing his best to conceal. Tony’s face was tight as he stared at Peter and Peter felt all of the blood left in his face drain away.
“I deserved it,” Peter told him desperately. “I disobeyed, it was my fault.” Mr. Stark just looked even more beaten at his words and Peter felt his breathing picking up.
“It’s not,” Tony said, voice still unbelievably soft but firm. “It’s not your fault and you didn’t deserve it. You’re a great kid Pete.” Peter shook his head no and couldn’t stop a couple tears from leaking out before furiously wiping them away. “I promise that it wasn’t your fault Underoos. Will you let me help you?”
“You can’t,” Peter said, feeling hollow. “Everyone… everyone close to me dies. I’m cursed and I can’t do that to you too Mr. Stark.”
“Can I hug you?” Tony asked suddenly, arms twitching with need. After a seconds hesitation, Peter nodded and was hastily folded into the man’s arms; one arm tight around his shoulders and the other snaking up into his hair to pull through the too long strands carefully. Peter felt more tears leak out and, suddenly, he couldn’t hold it in any longer, throwing his own arms around Tony to return the hug and letting out a gut-wrenching sob into the man’s shoulder. Tony just shushed him and let him take as much comfort as he could. “You’re not cursed and none of this is your fault. I get the feeling no one has told you that yet and you need to hear it.”
Peter sobbed loudly again, curling in tighter. He had always thrived on positive affirmation and had grown up in a family where hugs and shoulder pats and forehead kisses were the norm. To go so long without… he had forgotten how nice it was to just be held and cared for. “Thank you,” Peter said, his voice clogged with emotion. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” Tony said firmly. “Anyone decent would do the same thing and it’s the least of what you deserve.”
Peter squeezed him one more time and took a deep breath before pulling away. “Thank you,” he reiterated, fighting to make eye contact so he could show just how sincere he was. “But I need to get back before four and I already missed my train. I can’t be late.” Tony, who still had one hand resting on Peter’s shoulder, gripped him tightly to prevent him from escaping up the stairs to the train.
“You aren’t going back,” he said firmly, ducking his head and forcing Peter to make eye contact. “You’re coming with me back to the Tower where I’m going to call CPS and my lawyers. You’re never going back there again.”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” Peter insisted. “It’s really not that bad if I’m home on time and do my chores and stay in my room. And its only two more years until I’m eighteen and then I can get a job and an apartment.”
“Pete,” Tony said, eyes shining as he wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders and started leading him away from the subway and toward the Audi that was parked in the pickup lane; Peter could see the outline of Happy’s silhouette in the driver’s seat. “You deserve better. You deserve somewhere safe and you deserve to have someone care about you. I know you don’t believe it now and that’s okay – I’m just going to keep telling you until you do.”
Peter sniffed back another onslaught of tears and allowed himself to be pulled away. “Thank you Mr. Stark,” he said, voice clogged with emotion.
“It’s Tony kiddo,” the man told him with another squeeze that warmed Peter to the core. “And you don’t need to thank me for this okay?”
“Okay,” Peter agreed, fully aware and present and wanting to be for the first time in a long time. Things were never going to be the same, but maybe, just maybe, they would get better.
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No problem, kid
Prompt: Fainting
@canonismybitch asked: CONGRATULATIONS ON 400 FOLLOWERS!!! Could I request Fainting for IronDad? (I'm a sucker for Peter whump ngl) also, pretty please could you add me to your tag list?
Thank you so much for requesting this, it was so fun to write! And as you already know by now, yes, you have been added to the tag list ;]
Irondad Tag List: @phahbiyah @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @clevermuffinalmondpeach @stuck-in-a-fictional-universe @canonismybitch @freckledmountain @hold-our-destiny + @badthingshappenbingo
Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!
TWs: Fainting obviously, some negative self-talk, and while no one has an eating disorder in this fic, I do describe his hunger a lot so if you're triggered by that you may want to be careful
Read on Ao3
Peter hated gym. You’d think that after getting superstrength it’d be more fun, but it was honestly no better than before. At least, not since the “no food outside the cafeteria” rule had been implemented. Apparently a lot of kids thought it was funny to hide food in cupboards so it would mold and rot in there, and the school banned eating any food outside the cafeteria.
This wasn’t a big deal for anyone except for Peter. His enhanced metabolism burned so fast that Tony had compared it to Captain America’s, and Peter had to eat every hour to keep up with it. Hourlies, he called them. Normally you’d never see Peter without a snack in his hand, usually a special protein bar made specifically for his needs, but now Peter’s hands and belly were often empty.
Especially in gym class. Gym was his last class of the day, which meant by now his lunch had been hours ago and his stomach was screaming with hunger. He’d tried to sneak food in the locker room but he was caught almost every time as apparently the lockers were the place the most rotten food had been found, so the teachers kept an extra close eye out.
So here he was, running back and forth across the gym, his stomach rumbling so loud Ned could hear it beside him.
“Jesus Peter,” Ned muttered as his belly gave a particularly loud growl. “Are you like, okay?”
“No, I’m fucking starving,” Peter said, rubbing his middle as it spasmed painfully. “God I hate this. It’s only been a week and I feel like I’m going insane.”
“This can’t be good for you Peter, you should really tell someone,” Ned said worriedly. “I really don’t like seeing you going hungry like this.” Peter gave a small chuckle as they started running again.
“I tried, they didn’t listen to me. But I’m alright, I’m Spider-Man, a little hunger can’t stop me,” he said. But when his stomach rumbled so loud Peter saw a couple people glance at him, Ned raised his eyebrows.
“Forgive me if I don’t believe that was ‘a little hunger’,” he said. Peter’s face went red and he looked away, quiet. Well, quiet except for his belly.
They ran in relative silence for a few minutes, until somehow, Peter actually started to feel worse. Something he didn’t actually know was possible.
His head started pounding and his vision began swimming lazily as a wave of nausea overtook him. Peter stumbled, and was buffeted to the side by several runners behind him, almost falling over until Ned caught him by the elbows.
“Peter? Peter are you okay!?” he asked, the look of worry distorted in Peter’s eyes.
“I-I think I’m gonna pass out,” Peter mumbled. Peter fell against the wall and slid into a sitting position, clutching his face in his hands as the world swam around him.
“Shit, shit, I knew this was gonna happen,” Ned said. “Okay, let’s get you to the nurse.”
Peter nodded, and stood up.
But suddenly, the world was black, and the biting hunger was gone.
~~~
“Kid. Kid, wake up, c’mon Pete, let’s get you back to the tower,” said a voice, slowly pulling Peter back to consciousness.
“Mmm?” Peter opened his eyes to find a slightly blurry, concerned face looking down at him. Tony. “Oh. Hey, Tony.”
The frown in Tony’s brow deepened and he made a noise of sympathy.
“Jeez, you really are sick, aren’t you? Why did you go to school like this?” Peter raised his eyebrows.
“They told you I was sick?” he mumbled, sitting up and massaging his stomach as the deep ache returned.
“What else would they have told me?” Tony asked. Peter sighed and shook his head.
“Let’s just go. I’ll explain when we get in the car,” he muttered. Peter pushed himself up with shaking arms and Tony gently put his hand under one of his elbows to help him up.
“You’re shaking,” Tony said, concern now filling his voice.
“I know,” Peter said grimly. “I just wanna get out of here.” Tony opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it and quickly started the process of signing Peter out of school. Peter sat at one of the chairs in the main office, hugging his backpack to his aching tummy, willing it not to growl in the quiet room.
Eventually they were able to leave, and they made their way as quickly as they could to the car Tony had parked out front. Tony took his backpack and put it in the trunk while Peter eased himself into the passenger seat. He pressed his fingers deep into his belly as it cramped with hunger.
“I know, I know,” he muttered to his stomach, hearing the trunk slam behind him. “We’ll eat in a little bit. Not long now.” Tony sat in the driver's seat a second later, and looked at Peter with concern.
“Alright kid. Out with it, what’s going on?” he said, putting on hand comfortingly on Peter’s knee. Peter opened his mouth, but his stomach interrupted him with a loud growl.
It was so loud Peter could feel the empty rumbles against his palms, and he closed his eyes in embarrassment and misery, curling in on himself and wishing he would sink into the earth forever.
“Jesus… kid was that your stomach?” he heard Tony say, the sympathy in his voice making Peter’s ears turn red.
“I-I haven’t eaten anything since lunch,” Peter muttered. “That’s why I passed out.” He suddenly felt his eyes start to sting. God this was such a stupid thing to cry about. He’s just hungry, this isn’t the end of the world, so why does he feel so awful?
“Oh, oh god Peter, okay, it’ll be alright kid, let’s just get you something to eat then, yeah?” Tony said, quickly starting up the car and driving out of the parking lot. Peter just nodded, unable to trust his voice to keep steady and trying his best not to let the tears spill from his eyes. It was another minute before Tony spoke again.
“Why did the school tell me you were just sick? Why haven’t you eaten in so long, kid? We set up your Hourlies months ago, and with how you look right now I’d have a hard time believing you just forgot--”
“The school made a rule that we can’t eat outside the cafeteria. So the only times I’ve been able to eat are before school, at lunch, and sometimes I can sneak something between classes in the bathroom if I have enough time. They probably told you I was sick because no one else has passed out from hunger yet, so they assumed I was just the idiot who decided to go to school sick,” Peter said, massaging his tummy as it continued to spasm and gurgle. “Though I have a feeling Ned told them what happened and they just ignored him. Teachers don’t tend to listen to us. I even tried to tell a teacher I had some sort of stomach condition so I had to eat more often, but they just started pressing for details and saying they wanted to get a doctors note and permission from Aunt May and all this shit and I just… honestly I just decided to give up and deal with it. Even though I know Aunt May would give permission, I can’t get a doctor’s note, and I hate the idea of being singled out as The One Kid who’s allowed to eat in class. That’s a great way to get everyone to have a grudge against you.”
“Jeez…” Tony said. “How long has this been going on?”
“A week,” Peter muttered.
“Kid, are you telling me you’ve been going hungry like this for a whole week? Why didn’t you tell me?” he exclaimed.
“I don’t know, I just… after getting told no by the teacher I just didn’t bother. I haven’t been able to focus or think all week and I just… I didn’t even consider it. I’m sorry,” Peter said. Tony sighed and gave him a small pat on the shoulder.
“It’s alright, nothing to be sorry for, this isn’t your fault,” he said, turning into the parking lot of a McDonalds. “A couple Big Macs you’re thinkin’ kid?” he asked. Peter’s belly answered with a deep grumble, and Tony nodded. “Four then. With fries and a milkshake.”
Peter nodded shyly, and Tony gave him an encouraging smile as he got out of the car and hurried to the building to order Peter’s food.
Peter took a deep breath, curling in on himself and hugging his stomach, clenching his teeth as more tears stung his eyes, eventually spilling out and rolling down his face.
“Dammit, no, stop it, stop it stop it stop it, not again,” Peter muttered, wiping his eyes furiously on his sleeves.
Peter had cried almost every day since the ban had started, and honestly couldn’t figure out why. The first time happened at lunch, and he was barely able to keep his composure before rushing to the bathroom and bursting into tears. Another time had actually been at breakfast oddly enough, Aunt May had almost had him stay home from school. The time before now had been yesterday when he got home, tears rolling silently down his face as he dragged several containers of food out of the fridge.
“Stop it, what’s wrong with you, you’re fine, stop being so stupid Peter, god. This isn’t something you cry over, you’re just hungry, you’re not dying, so stop being a fucking idiot--” The sound of the car door opening startled him into silence, and he looked up in surprise.
“Alright kiddo, I got your food, I don’t often like using the ‘I’m famous’ card but considering the circumstances I thought we should be fast--” he cut off as he caught sight of Peter’s face. “Oh Pete, are you crying?”
“No! No, I-I’m fine, it’s stupid, I--”
“Hey, it’s alright, it’s okay,” Tony said softly, sitting down and shutting the door. He held out the bag and Peter felt his mouth watering fervently as the smell hit his nose. His belly clenched hard and he quickly took the bag, trembling fingers wrapping around the greasy burger and opening it.
The first bite sent Peter’s tummy into a frenzy, begging loudly for more, which he was all too happy to oblige. He started breathing heavily as he stuffed more food into his mouth, the tears spilling out of his eyes causing small whines of frustration between bites.
And the tears only increased when Tony smoothed a hand on his back and started whispering words of comfort to him.
“It’s okay buddy, you’re gonna be alright,” he said softly. Peter finished the burger a minute later, and he sat for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, gripping his knees and taking several slow, deep breaths. He was nowhere near satisfied, he still had three burgers, fries, and a milkshake left after all, but he finally felt well enough for the tears to ease a bit and let him speak.
“I… I’m sorry I cried like that, I don’t know what’s wrong with me--”
“Woah, hey, no it’s okay to cry Pete, you’re alright,” Tony said, rubbing more circles into Peter’s back.
“Yeah, I know, it’s just I don’t do that usually, but I’ve just been it doing all week and I don’t understand--”
“Peter, you haven’t been able to properly eat for a week. That really messes with you, both physically and emotionally. Your body and mind are overwhelmed and honestly, when that happens, you cry. Anyone who’s in your position would feel the same,” he said. Tony moved his hand from Peter’s back and put it under his chin, coaxing him to look up. “It’s okay, kiddo. You’re not being irrational. You just get some more food in your belly, and I’ll get us home, okay?”
Peter sniffed and nodded with a watery smile. Tony brushed a tear from Peter’s cheek and smiled back before starting the car.
Peter finished another burger by the time they got to the tower, now feeling well enough to walk without his knees shaking. When they got to the living quarters they sat on the couch together, Peter tucked safely under Tony’s arm, munching happily on his burger and dipping his fries in his milkshake while they watched Star Wars. Peter went to sleep with his stomach heavy and full of food, and when he went back to school on Monday, the ban had been lifted for reasons nobody seemed to know.
Peter sent Tony a thank you text that morning, crunching down happily on a granola bar in homeroom.
No problem, kid.
#irondad#irondad fanfiction#tony stark#peter parker#bad things happen bingo#fainting#spider-man#Iron Man#marvel#MCU#marvel fanfiction#spider-man fanfiction#mcu fanfiction#fanfiction#fanfic#my spidey boy#Tony freaking Stark#he's a hungry spider#yes i know I've written this trope 3000 times shaddap#Marko's Fanfiction
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Puppets - XXIII - Returning
Once the sun begins to rise, so do Texas and Louisiana, who poke their heads out of the tent and start packing up their bags. Massachusetts joins them soon after, due to the noise Texas is making if Russia had to guess. Russia douses the fire and packs his remaining belongings into his bag, keeping the tomahawk within arms reach. When he exits the tent, he sees Ute and Canada are also up and about. Canada is helping the states pack their bags, and Ute is beginning to dismantle tepees.
It took only around 30 minutes to deconstruct the camp fully and pack it up. Though, Russia could've sworn there was far more to carry than what Ute has on his back. 'How many Americans have magic?' Russia thinks, baffled. He shook off the train of thought when Ute begins walking, and he hurries to keep up. Russia walks at the back of their group, but the states are trying to include him in their conversations, which he thought was sweet. He also had to admit some of the stories they tell are hilarious.
"Remember when Tex shot a flare in the house and broke a window?" Louisiana says nonchalantly.
"LOUISIANA!" Texas exclaims, his face reddening.
"I remember," Massachusetts comments, "Dad was soo f***ing mad."
"What was it that Alabama and Mississippi did that ended with the wall in pieces?" Canada prompts from in front of the states.
Texas answers, "oh yeah. Montana dared Alabama to make a human cannon. In all honesty, Idaho should've stopped them, but once 'Bama has an idea-"
"No matter how stupid," Massachusetts interjects.
"He'll follow through. He ain't the smartest of us, but he'll be damned if he's called a quitter," Texas finishes, smirking slightly.
"How does anyone do anything in that house?" Russia asks, exasperated.
"I don't know. We usually only get together on holidays. So right now is weird as it is. Even with all that, Dad and New York can get stuff done, most of the time," Massachusetts says, shaking his head fondly.
"Even if no one is purposefully causing chaos, just talking gets to insane volumes," Louisiana says.
"I have heard," Russia says, smiling.
Suddenly, Massachusetts goes pale.
"What's wrong?" Russia asks, concerned.
"New York is going to f***ing kill us," Massachusetts says, running a hand through his hair.
Texas' face falls, "he's probably worried sick. Darn, we shoulda given him more warning."
Canada sighs sympathetically and says, "We should call him as soon as we get service." Russia agrees, and feels a pang of sympathy for New York. 'He probably thinks he lost his siblings and uncle like he lost America,' Russia thinks.
"You should," Ute says, snapping Russia out of his reverie, "according to Utah and Colorado, he's panicking and trying desperately trying to contact you five."
Russia pulls out his phone to see if he has service and stops in his tracks.
"How long were we gone?" he asks, horrified.
"A day if I had to guess," Canada replies.
"According to the date, we've been gone for more than a week," Russia replies shakily, looking up to see the group had stopped.
"WHAT? Lemme see that!" Texas exclaims, rushing over to Russia.
"How?!" Massachusetts demands.
"Oh no," Louisiana mutters quietly.
Canada just stares back, frozen. Texas nearly snatches Russia's phone out of his hands, and slumps over, defeated when Russia's words are verified.
"We should keep moving. The sooner we get back to the road, the sooner you will have signal," Ute says, urging them forward again.
The once happy mood became sullen, and Russia can faintly hear Texas mumbling about "stupid magic" and "a whole week lost." Russia agrees with the sentiment, and can't imagine the chaos that must be the house of the remaining states. His pace becomes quicker, and the others do the same. The image of New York the day America was captured flashes in Russia's mind. Tomahawk in his hand, swinging at his side, he treks forward.
He briefly wonders about how his father is handling his disappearance. 'Probably not well,' Russia muses.
The sun is high in the sky, and his shadow is nearly invisible by the time they approach the road. Russia sees the rails above them, but he doesn't see a way to climb up. "Back up," Ute says, holding a wooden staff that Russia had not seen before, and Canada backs up with the states.
Ute slams the wooden staff into the dirt twice, and the ground shifts. Slabs of dirt and stone rise to create steps. Russia stares up at the stairs, and when he turns back to Ute, the staff he had been holding is gone.
"This is where I must say goodbye," Ute says, "I cannot go any further with you. The monsters here have been significantly more active, and I need to be here to control it."
"Okay, so long, partner! Thanks for the help," Texas says with a wave, ascending the stairs.
"Bye, Ute!" Louisiana says happily.
"Goodbye!" Massachusetts calls.
"Thank you for your help. Wouldn't have made it without you, eh?" Canada says with a grin.
"Thank you for your help. We are very grateful," Russia says with a slight tip of his head. He then turns and climbs the stairs, following the others. He turns around from the road to wave goodbye, only to see the steps no longer existed, and Ute was nowhere to be seen.
His hand lowers, and he turns to follow the others. They walk up the road for 20 minutes until Texas spots the car and takes off into a sprint. Russia runs with him.
Russia pulls out the keys and unlocks the doors. The states hop in, and Texas falls into a seat with an audible sigh. "Yay, a comfortable seat," he says, his eyes closed.
Massachusetts laughs. Russia helps gather bags and throw them into the back of the car and he sits back in the seat. The moment he sits down and starts the car, his phone begins ringing. Turning the phone over, he sees that it's his father. He answers immediately.
"Hello?" Russia answers.
"Russia! You're okay! What happened to you? The states contacted me and told me you were missing for 9 days!" his father yells into his phone.
"I am okay. Everyone is okay. There was some magic time thing that caused it. We thought only a day had passed," Russia says.
Soviet sighs and Russia catches something ding in the background. He hears his father groan into his hands. "You will tell me everything. For now, I am being called into a UN meeting. I will talk with you soon. Goodbye," Soviet says with a tone of finality.
"Goodbye, Papa," Russia replies before hanging up.
Opening his phone, he sees dozens of missed calls and texts from New York, and later his father, demanding to know if they were alright and where he was. He sighs and calls New York, putting the call through the Bluetooth speakers in the car. The call is picked up immediately.
"Hello? This better not be a motherf***ing joke," New York says aggressively.
"Hi, New York!" Massachusetts calls from the backseat, waving sarcastically.
"Massachusetts?! Is everyone there?" New York demands frantically.
"Yes, you can calm down now," Canada replies, trying to pacify New York. Russia winces when he hears New York choke slightly. He hears the state sniffle for a moment before pulling himself together.
"Thank f***," New York mumbles, "I thought you were gone. You're okay."
The relief in his tone is thick, and Russia tries to remedy it. "Yes. We are sorry for the lack of communication," he says.
"It ain't our fault that the cave entrance collapsed," Texas chimes from his seat.
"What?! What happened?" New York asks.
"Well, something tried to trap us in a cave with a spider monster. Then we fell off a cliff," Massachusetts says flippantly.
"There were also cameras everywhere, and some guy was watching us for entertainment," Louisiana says in disgust.
"Jesus Christ. Now I know how Dad feels," New York mumbles and asks, "how did you survive?"
"Colorado's friend Ute saved us. He also helped us find the car," Texas answers.
"I guess that pot-head does have some good ideas," New York mumbles. "Dixie would want to know about this, but he was just pulled into a nations' meeting. And there is a lot of yelling. I may have to go in there and help. I'll be calling you again later, and you betta answer!" New York says before hanging up.
Russia chuckles and sits back in relief. He is certain something else is going on behind the scenes but decides that he'll figure it out another day, probably with the help of the states and his father. For now, he'll focus on driving them to their next hotel.
~
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maybe 82, 52, or 32 w peter and tony?? love your work so much!!!
52. “Why don’t you tell me why you really came here tonight?”
&
32. “I need to know if you’re okay or not.”
Peter is drunk out of his mind when Tony Stark appears at Flash’s house. In fact, he’s so wasted he actually assumes it has to be some kind of hallucination. There’s a lot of weed in the air, maybe he’s getting a second-hand high or something.
It’s just too crazy to be real. The fact that Peter is here, even, is insane—but Flash had thrown the party last minute in the wake of an intense AcaDec competition and in the exaltation of winning, he’d forgotten to despise Peter for a minute and had accidentally extended an invitation; Peter had accepted purely because he knew it would annoy the other guy and also, he was really curious to see the house that had shaped possibly the most arrogant person he knew.
Typically it’s a fucking mansion, but it’s also… really hollow. There’s sheets covering all the oil paintings and locked doors and it honestly feels more like being in a museum. Instead of enjoying himself, Flash is frantically running around trying to stash vases and antique lamps and picture frames. He’s also clearly regretting his decision.
But he’s also a jerk on a daily basis and MJ is drunk and giggly and begging him to drink more too and then, oh no! He’s butt dialling someone! The music is too loud to see the caller ID—or no, to hear it? “What?” Peter demands of his phone, and there’s a muffled reply before he gets impatient and hangs up.
Twenty minutes later: Tony Stark.
Someone screams something. An air horn sounds off in another room of the house where word clearly hasn’t spread yet, but it’s catching like wildfire. Peter is in the backyard between the pool and the gaudy stone fountain. Tony is on the porch, standing there with his hands in his pockets, staring.
Peter blinks. He turns to MJ. “Yo, that’s Tony Stark.”
She bursts into laughter. It makes him laugh too. Then Tony’s walking over and it’s somehow even funnier.
“What’s the joke?” Tony asks. He’s smiling but there’s something not right about it.
“I, uh—what are you doing here?”
“Well, you called,” Tony says, “and you were drunk, and clearly you still are—I’ll be taking that, by the way—” much to Peter’s annoyance, he snatches the red solo cup out of his grip and dumps the remainder of its contents into the pool, “—now that that’s over with, I think it’s about time we took you home.”
“Sorry?”
“Yeah, I would be too, especially when that hangover hits—yeesh. Anyway, chop chop, come on.”
Tony makes to grab him but Peter rips away. “No, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Pete—”
“No, I’m—I’m having a good time, okay? I don’t wanna go anywhere, thank you very much.”
Tony’s face changes. He looks kind of angry now, but it’s hard to tell through the haze of intoxication. “Pete, I really didn’t wanna come here at all—”
“Then go.”
The older man sighs and glances around and that’s when Peter kind of realises, dimly in some slowly sobering corner of his mind, that people have crowded around them and are watching and even filming on their phones. He’s kind of too out of it to do much more than wonder why—it’s just Tony, who’s always being such a mother hen. This is nothing new, nothing special—
Oh yeah, that’s right: none of these people believed that Peter was Tony’s intern. For years he’s been saying and now, here’s the proof.
They’re saved from further causing a scene when MJ abruptly doubles over and throws up into the pool. Peter moves to grab her before she can fall and he holds back her hair, and behind him Tony is telling everyone to turn their fucking cameras off and delete that footage or he’ll personally hack into all of their devices and do it himself.
“Ugh,” MJ groans. “That is so disgusting.”
The tiny sober part of Peter’s brain is rapidly growing larger. Apparently alcohol doesn’t really last on spider-mutants. “You did challenge Brad to beer pong.”
“And I won,” she spits bitterly. “It was worth it.”
Peter isn’t about to argue with her. “You wanna go home?”
“Yeah, but you don’t.”
“I do if you do.”
“I’m taking both of you home,” Tony cuts in, “no arguments this time, okay?”
Peter rolls his eyes. “Yes, Dad.”
It’s just a joke, a spare sarcastic remark he doesn’t even think about, but it’ll haunt him for a really long time after that.
Tony helps Peter get MJ into the car. Up front, Happy grumbles about stupid teenagers and dumb parties and you’d better not throw up in the back of my Audi, kid, you understand? I’ll charge you for every penny—
Tony tells him to shut up and drive. They sit in silence for a couple of minutes before he asks, “Why don’t you tell me why you really came here tonight?”
Peter shrugs one shoulder, careful not to jostle MJ off the other. “I don’t know. Seemed preferable to an empty house, I guess.”
Tony squirms a little. “You know May is doing the best that she can—”
“No, I know,” Peter says, “and I get it, I really do. I’m grateful. But it doesn’t change the fact that it gets lonely sometimes, you know? Guess I’d rather be shitfaced and surrounded by strangers than shut up alone.”
At that, Tony goes a little white. His gaze rips abruptly away and he blinks, rapidly, his left hand fisting and flexing. Peter nudges his leg. “You okay?”
“No, yeah,” a nod, “just, uh… Jesus, you remind me of myself.”
Peter gets his meaning pretty quick: Tony Stark’s party days are no secret to the public, after all. “I get the feeling that’s not really a compliment.”
The older man’s gaze softens. “You remind me of myself in more than one way, Pete. But this, uh… this isn’t a trait of mine you want to embody, trust me. It can be a really slippery slope. Starts with house parties and ends with you splayed out on a ping-pong table in nothing but your boxers with coke stuck in your stubble—not a pretty picture, to say the least. I don’t want that for you, you know? I want… I want so much more for you.”
Peter stares. Then, “Hey Tony?”
“Yeah, kiddo?”
“Why did you come here tonight? I mean, you could’ve just called May or Happy or something and had them pick me up—”
“I needed to know if you were okay or not.”
He closes his mouth and ducks his head because while yeah, that’s what he’d been looking for, it’s also a lot to hear. All of this is, actually.
“Pete?”
“I’m fine,” he promises. “I’m okay.”
“You’re sure?”
He takes a second to really think about it and decides that yes, he is; as long as this never stops, at least. As long as… as Tony’s always around for him to lean on.
But he can’t, like, say that. It’s too much pressure to put on someone who’s just supposed to be his boss… or mentor… or whatever.
MJ saves him from actually answering by grunting and wriggling to get comfortable again on his shoulder. Peter remains perfectly still and has no intention of moving a muscle until they drop her off.
“So what’s this?” Tony asks, gesturing between them.
Peter raises an eyebrow. “What’s what?”
“Oh, you’re gonna play dumb about it? Real mature.”
Peter grins. “I’m not playing dumb I just… don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it. She’s my friend before anything else, so whatever.”
Tony hums. Peter rests his chin on top of MJ’s head. The rest of the car ride passes in silence, but it’s the easy, soft kind. And when Tony drops him off later, he hesitates in front of Peter’s front door and then says, “You know you can always call me, right? And I’ll come?”
“Yeah, I know—”
“No, I mean, always. Not just for Spider-Man stuff. I don’t care if I’m halfway across the world, I’m still gonna do everything I can to be there for you. I want… I want you to be safe, but I want you to know that even if you make mistakes I’m… I’m gonna help.”
Peter studies him. “So like if I were in jail and needed bail or something—?”
“Don’t push your luck, kid,” Tony says, shoving him inside. “But… yeah. Never tell your aunt I said that. Goodnight.”
Peter laughs. “Night, Tony.”
#asks#anon#drabbles#marvel#tony stark#peter parker#michelle jones#irondad#spideychelle#my writing#this is longer than it was supposed to be dkdjjdjd#OOPS#i hope it doesn’t suck
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