#but like! good with kids! good under pressure! worked his ass off at medical school and it shows!

[biillys]

been flicking between house and er and now i want the billy working at a hospital au's please

#i have no concrete thoughts and head canons just vibes #actually i do but i'm not typing all that out cos it rly is 75% vibes. and probably 25% medically incorrect. so i'll keep that to myself th #but like! good with kids! good under pressure! worked his ass off at medical school and it shows! #also i need max working there too but maybe in a different area and no one knows they're siblings #but then they'll get all /siblings bickering/ in the hallway over dumb shit #and every one's just like.... is that Legal ? #also. heather not working in the hospital but some other job with just as fucked hours #and they're housemates obvsly so every time they catch each other at home they're like #'gonna k myself. you?' 'gonna k myself. bye.' and immediately fuck off to bed or work #and okay. on one hand. billy knows he's not gods gift to this earth. his dads been telling him that his entire life #but. on the other hand. the only way he's made it this far in life is by making himself god's gift to this earth #so. it's rly hard to not be a cocky little shit at the start of his career #which unfortunately leads to small fuck ups. which leads to big fuck ups. #fuck ups he wont forget and carries with him every day #but once he finds his feet. finds his place. boy oh BOY he was made to work in this field #max didnt follow him on purpose. she rocked up on his door step the second she graduated. if that. #and billy more or less just said. im broke as shit and in so much debt i cant even buy myself a chocolate bar. take the couch #if ur staying longer than a week i want fuckin rent #except his version of rent is max pitching in for dinner and chores and groceries etc and if shes gotsome money to contribute thats cool to #but he's not about to like. kick her out #anyway. one night they're somehow magically all off and free for the first time in months. so they're having a few drinks #and heather's bitching about her job and billy's one upping her with every story #and max is like. bro it probably isn't even that hard. and billy's like. i Dare you. #(they're drunk. billy hasn't even had time to think about alcohol in Months and now he's a lightweight and he's Drunk) #and max. becos she's max. and she's never /not/ ready to prove billy wrong. decides to actually go for it #not like she's got much to lose. except money maybe also free time also mental brain capacity and the will to actually wanna live #but. like. nothing to lose! so she's opening google the next day and figuring out where to start. and before she knows it #she's there baby! she's living medical school hell! it sucks ASS. somehow she doesn't give up! #flash forward like 10 yrs and billy likes to brag that his life's so good that max had to copy him. #ran to california. works in a hospital. daddy issues. etc etc.

[dontcallmecarrie]

No Hero [And Not Made Of Stone]

...I’ve got nothing. Not even sure where the idea came from, but as per usual, the moment my brain had an idea it immediately took it by both hands and ran with it so here you go. Name for this AU might change, but for now here have another song lyric [from Five Finger Death Punch’s “Wrong Side of Heaven”]

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Warnings: mild profanity, dysfunctional families, a metric buttload of gender and identity issues, because the protagonist is a possibly agender character [their stance on gender can be summed up as “huh, those parts are new. Weird. Moving on”]. Not exactly Tony-friendly at times, but not for the reasons you’d think. 

To sum up: haven’t done a SI-OC fic before, let’s see how it goes. Under the cut, because RIP mobile users otherwise.

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Justin Hammer’s name wasn’t always Justin Hammer.

He doesn’t really remember what it was anymore, but he knows that much.

.

Honestly? This ‘memories of another world’ thing was more a pain in the ass than anything else, at least at first.

It might’ve been cool if they remembered something useful— concrete dates, specific innovations, hell, even any tips of what stocks to invest in— but no, they had to get short end of the stick with weird dreams, identity crises, and a longing for a family they’d never had.

Oh, and another round of puberty, because of why the hell not. Like last time hadn’t been enough of a pain in the ass.

Ugh. They wanted a refund.

.

...okay, so it probably could’ve been worse. 

Justin has vague recollections of going to sleep hungry, of huddling with their younger sibling under blankets because their parents couldn’t pay the electrical bill— so really, in the great scheme of things, being born as part of the 1% this round was. Something.

Trippy as hell, is what it was, honestly.

This family was loaded, and under other circumstances, they might’ve even been able to enjoy it— if, y’know, they hadn’t had the incredibly shitty luck of being born two years before Tony Stark.

.

“Look at what he’s doing, that could be you” this, “study hard, he’s going to be your rival” that— geez, if any other kid had been in Justin’s shoes, he would not have envied them. 

If he didn’t already have a firmly established sense of self, it would have been a mindfuck of a childhood because for some reason, his father kept comparing them? And yeah, Justin could kinda see some of the parallels— they were about the same age, both firstborn sons and heirs to their parents’ respective companies— but that’s about where the similarities ended.

Look, Justin wasn’t a genius, okay? He was fairly bright for his age, but...he wasn’t a one-in-a-million prodigy. And, up until he was 6, that had been acceptable.

But then the press went wild because oh, look, Howard’s son built a circuit board at age four, and it all went downhill from there because suddenly, being normal wasn’t good enough. Not for his parents, anyway.

.

Sometimes, he wondered what would’ve happened if it had been another kid in his shoes— how they would’ve handled the small army of private tutors and the extra classes they kept being signed up for in the hopes of finding something they excelled in.

The pressure of constantly being compared to a once-in-a-generation prodigy, and always being found wanting.

Justin wasn’t afraid of hard work— but it was grating, even for him. 

Really, just about the only silver lining to this ‘second life’ thing was his adorable little sister, Stephanie.

She, at least, looked up to him: her gap-toothed smile didn’t hold any expectations for anything other than the piggyback rides he regularly offered, and this time he didn’t even have to worry about medical bills, or—

Anyway.

.

His family and the Starks run in the same social circles, because of course they do. 

Now that he’s getting older, Justin’s being dragged along to all of the fancy shindigs with his parents, and it’s only due to two lifetimes’ worth of self-control that keeps his polite smile from wavering when he’s introduced to the bane of his existence.

“Hi, my name’s Tony Stark.” The little brat said, and Justin bit back a sigh as he shook his hand.

.

...so, the Stark heir his father wanted to be his rival was a kid. Actually a kid, which just made this mess that much more pathetic because part of Justin had almost been starting to want to buy into this rivalry thing, but.

In this life, and the last one, they’d been an older sibling.

This time, despite everything, he could tell he was softer— he had never gone to bed hungry, never had to worry about the roof over his head, or being solely responsible for his younger sibling’s health and safety— but.

Old habits die hard. 

.

Of course Justin’s father hears “the Starks are sending their seven-year-old heir to boarding school” and thinks “good idea, why didn’t I think of that?” 

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Steph had cried when they’d packed their things, and for that alone, Justin would never forgive their parents.

.

The other brats at boarding school are more invested in the Hammer-Stark rivalry than they are.

...this was going to be a long 9 years, wasn’t it.

.

One of the perks to going to one of the most elite boarding schools in the world was the options. Certainly, Justin doubted other places offered skiing and fencing and over eleven languages in their electives. 

Not that he was complaining: it was definitely a way to keep busy, certainly much better than the constant attempts at one-upmanship that came part and parcel with cramming the richest heirs, heiresses, and honest-to-goodness royalty in one place. 

At the end of the day, though, they were all kids. Bratty, entitled little shits who were still at the stage where they constantly went “my father will hear about this!” and Justin had way better things to do with his time than engage in those petty little playground attempts at power plays. 

So he dove into everything the school had to offer, bouncing from elective to elective like a ping pong ball, and trying not to think too hard as to why Spanish had come so easily to him, though he’d never studied it before— or why he’d felt a pang when the instructor had congratulated him on his accent. 

.

Somewhere down the line, Justin...kinda made a name for himself? Apparently?

Ugh, they’d never understand these people. 

.

Okay, so apparently he’d kinda become an older brother figure of sorts to the brats around here? Somehow? Even though he hadn’t exactly been planning on doing anything of the sort when he saw an underclassman struggling during practice, or stopped fights before they could start in the common room because he’d just sat down and didn’t have the patience to move all his stuff somewhere else to study.

Didn’t make sense to him, but apparently it was enough for some of the professors to write ‘good leadership skills’ on his transcripts, so whatever.

As a bonus, it made his old man happy. Not that Justin gave a damn about what he thought about him personally, but the increase in his ‘allowance’ [it was in the triple digits, like hell he was calling it that] was nice.

.

Among the hobbies Justin bounced between, there were a few that raised more eyebrows than others.

Knitting, for instance, was something some of the more annoying brats liked to laugh about. They eased up when they found out he sent the scarves and hats he made to his little sister, but... eh, whatever. 

Sewing, too— apparently it was okay if it was framed as a Boy Scout-esque ‘know the basics so you can always be prepared!’ way, but the moment he did any sort of embroidery there went his respectability. 

Well, at least nobody gave him a hard time about cooking. But then, his chilaquiles had some of these guys’ eyes watering just from the smell of it, so. 

It still didn’t sit well with him sometimes— kinda like how puberty had Not Been Fun on a number on levels, but hey, if all else failed, he could just ignore it harder. 

It hadn’t failed him yet.

.

Stephanie insisted on going to boarding school with him when she got to the age he’d been shipped off at.

It was...nice, having his little sister around again. 

.

It was a good thing Justin had been okay with being designated the heir of Hammer Industries, because Steph was... exactly like he remembered her.

Cheerful, upbeat, startlingly devious and manipulative when she wanted to be, and just a tad bit spoiled.

...okay, so Justin had probably contributed a bit to that last one. In his defense, he’d been doing his best to shield his sister from the staggeringly high expectations he himself had to deal with, but look, he wanted at least one of them to have some semblance of a happy childhood, okay? 

Goodness knew he hadn’t [not this time, nor the last].

.

Stephanie wasn’t interested in the family business, was more interested in pursuing a career in the arts.

Justin, of course, encouraged her wholeheartedly.

Their parents weren’t entirely happy about it, but...wasn’t like they had much to complain about. Not when Justin was always in the top ten of his year, not when the professors practically gushed over his responsibility and work ethic. 

He was no Tony Stark, but he’d made a name for himself nonetheless.

.

“So, we’re supposed to be rivals?” The bane of his existence said once, at yet another gala. “Howard says so, anyway.”

“Seems that way,” Justin shrugged as they pilfered a flute from a nearby table, carefully not commenting on how he’d referred to his father by his first name. Talk about a strained relationship, right there.

“You’re not really acting like one.”

“Well,” Justin sipped at his flute before making a face when he discovered it was champagne and not apple cider like he’d hoped, “it’s nothing personal, just business. Healthy competition, y’know? Someone’s got to.”

Stark eyed him for a moment, before giving him a brilliant smile. “You know, I think I’d like that.” 

.

Justin would never, ever understand these people.

.

In the time Justin Hammer got his degree in business, Tony Stark got several Ph.Ds. 

Not that he envied him: the idea of being shoved into the limelight after losing his entire family? Hard pass.

.

For some reason, Tony Stark seemed to think they were friends.

Why.

Sure, Justin tried to be as cordial with him as he did with anyone else, but... how on Earth did that translate into being friends?

.

“You look at him like he’s a kid,” Steph says once, laughing, “you look at all of us that way, haven’t you noticed?”

“Well, to be fair—”

“You’re only a few years older than us, but you keep acting like you’re dad. More like a dad than our actual dad, sometimes,” her smile dropped for a moment, “don’t think I forgot that time he didn’t even call for your birthday.”

Justin made a face. “But what’s that got to do with anything?”

She sighed, then gave him a smile and a look he couldn’t decipher. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

.

By the time Justin Hammer became the CEO of Hammer Industries, Tony Stark had held the same post in his company for over half a decade. 

Yet...well, something weird was going on.

Maybe it was because Justin’d had more time to prepare for the cutthroat world that was the defense industry, but— 

For some reason, he couldn’t help but think Tony was softer than he’d thought.

No-brainer contracts that would have been a cinch to broker, passed over simply because their distributors didn’t pass their incredibly high standards; buyers who wanted in, but whose past associations— very, very far in the past— meant SI didn’t even consider them. 

Justin couldn’t understand it. 

For someone in the industry, Stark’s morals were...unusual. Respectable, from one perspective, but remarkably naive from any self-respecting businessman who wanted to turn a profit. 

He was fairly certain the only reason Stark Industries was considered number one in the sector was because of the constant influx of new designs; they just were turning down too many contracts for him to consider otherwise. 

Sure, sometimes Hammer weapons found themselves in the wrong hands— much more often than Stark weapons, regrettably— but it was one of the hazards that came with the business. They’d both known it from the get-go; Stark weapons were considered the best for a reason, even though somewhere down the line, his company’d gotten a reputation for no-frills dependability and ruggedness to the point where unscrupulous individuals would do anything to get their hands on either. Wasn’t like there was anything they could do about it, not when money talked in ways laws didn’t.

Why Stark was so hung up over it, he just. Couldn’t wrap his head around.

.

Stark was proclaimed dead, and there was strong evidence to indicate the attackers had been using his guns.

...well, fuck.

.

“This is fine,” Justin muttered as his personal headache proceeded to come back from the dead only to say his company was going to stop doing the thing it was known for and making an ungodly mess in the stock market while at it, “it’s not like it affects me, anyway.”

.

Overnight, Hammer Industries became number one in the defense sector. 

Justin was not a happy camper about the spotlight.

Even more so, when he had to take additional measures so his sister could continue enjoy the privacy she’d had after pursuing her dreams as an artist because the press didn’t want to leave well enough alone.

.

“You know, you could’ve given me a warning.” Justin scowled when he saw Tony at the next gala.

“You handled it well enough, didn’t you?”

Ugh. 

His headache was back, and worst part was, the smile he got more than made up for it.

.

...and then I kinda ran out of steam.

tl;dr: MCU canon had Justin Hammer as a foil to Tony Stark, here their dynamic is more along the lines of Beethoven and Mozart [one really respecting the other’s genius, and working their butt off to get to that level of respectability and general acclaim].

in this AU, Stark Industries is kind of like Apple— very futuristic high-tech stuff, all the bells and whistles going on, etc, whereas Hammer Industries is the Nokia in this analogy: not fancy in the slightest but as close to indestructible as it gets. 

#No Hero [And Not Made Of Stone] #No Hero [Downward Descending] #My writing #character study of sorts #fic idea #fic ideas #3 am musings #kinda #also #does it count if said 'fic idea' is over 2k long?

[olivetreehugger]

SnK Scouts/Veterans as Health Care Workers

Note: features Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Levi, Erwin and Hange. A part two to my “SnK Warriors as HCWs” post found here. warning: mentions of blood, trauma, gore (it’s healthcare). Also, I know Hange is nb, I headcanon them as female, so I will be using she/her pronouns. 

Eren: this boy is definitely too involved in everything and has too many people depending on him at once to not be a nurse. The kid barely passed the NCLEX but that didn’t stop him from applying to every trauma center within a 25 mile radius of him. He got hired as a night shift trauma ICU nurse  and he frequently picks up shifts in the ER. He wears the cheapest scrubs he can find, often stained with ink in the pockets area. He isn’t a shitty nurse per se but there are tasks that still need to be done at the end of his shift and he gives a crappy report that’s missing too many details. Nurses hate picking up his patients, it’s always a mess. His charting is really spotty and he gets called into the manager’s office all the time to fix it. 

Still, he tries really hard to improve his time management and skills. He wants to be like his friends Mikasa and Reiner, who are the best nurses he knows. He wants to be involved in the traumatic cases and emergencies because he wants to learn as much as he possibly can. He’s really good at wound care, for some reason (hint hint). He’s kinda cocky sometimes too, which can be troublesome when Dr. Galliard is working. People know to steer clear of those two when they’re both  in the ER. Also, Eren always has a black cloud around him; whenever he works it’s gonna be a hella busy day in the hospital. Lots of emergency surgeries, intubations, codes and deaths. He’ll always jump in to help you if your patient is crashing, though, no matter how busy he is. 

Mikasa: she’s a prodigy. She was a straight ‘A’ student in nursing school, got a perfect 75 on the NCLEX and was immediately hired to the trauma ICU after doing a short internship there. She worked night shift for a year but her sleep schedule was so so fucked she started having night terrors, so she switched to day shift. Eren still calls her a traitor for it :/. She keeps trying to get him to switch over but he just hisses at her and threatens to chug a case of Monster energy drinks. She hasn’t given upon him yet, though.

This girl’s work ethic is beyond measure. She comes in exactly at 6:30 am, looks up her patients, takes report, gives a great update to the doctors when they round, and provides impeccable care to her patients. She knows exactly which treatments the doctors will order before they even speak. She’s incredible at inserting IVs--everyone in the hospital knows Mikasa Ackerman can put an 18g in a 90  yr old lady’s arm AND get blood return (just trust me, it’s flipping impossible). She has great skill when it comes to emergency situations and is a big believer in team work. If she notices your patient’s crashing and you don’t know what to do, she’ll calmly coach you and save your patient, too. All before lunch time. 

It doesn’t take Mikasa long to be promoted to charge nurse. When she’s in charge all the reports, paperwork and audits are completed before shift change. She divides the patient assignments really well and is very fair to the new grads. All around she’s an incredible nurse and leader on her unit, but don’t be fooled. If it’s been a rough day, Mikasa will get in her car and sob so loud her throat goes raw. A lot of people depend on her and working in a trauma ICU is really, really demanding. A lot of patients are demanding, rude and busy. She has a lot of trouble with stress management and is thinking of cutting her hours down so she can catch a break. Someone please hug her <3

Armin: for some reason my brain is just SCREAMING respiratory therapist. Like, I imagine this beautiful blond boy in gray scrubs (the color for RT’s in my hospital) going around helping intubate patients, giving nebulizer treatments and doing blood gases. I can just see him huffing and puffing when the attending doctor is overzealous about weaning vent support. -“Why are we changing the patient to pressure support? do you see how tachypneic he is on volume control?”

-“are you gonna put in the order? if not, your patient’s gonna be on PRVC all day, I’m not changing it without an order”

-“Doc, the patient looks like crap and their blood gas looks like death...oh, you still wanna extubate? ok, well I’m gonna leave the ventilator in here just in case. better yet, let me call a pastor in here, too.”

This kid is sassy af and he knows it. He’s smart af too, knows everything there is to know about the lungs and respiratory care. Knows every ventilator mode better than most doctors. Will certainly tell a resident off for ordering the wrong type of inhaler for a patient. He’s so damn intelligent that he even made the ice queen Annie melt like a popsicle. 

 He has no chill when it comes to his patients and even less chill (like -4078875874670) when a doctor gets in his way. For this reason, Armin has recently been toying with the idea of going to PA school so he can have a little more autonomy. He works al over the hospital, usually frequenting the trauma, CV, and medical ICU. The nurses there love him. 

Jean: Jeannie boy. Baby. Sweetie. He’s also a nurse. He is strictly dayshift and trauma. When he first started, he thought he’d do a year in the ICU and then go to CRNA school. He didn’t want to be around sickly patients with hopes and dreams and fears--it was too icky for him. But, over time, he learned that he LOVED trauma. Jean loves the controlled chaos that comes with the ugly, bloody messes that roll in through the ICU’s doors. He always gears up for trauma season (summer time) by bringing Dunkin Donuts iced coffee for everyone on the unit (day and night shift because he’s a supportive king). He gets really good at dealing with arrogant trauma residents and ortho docs who think they’re hot shit. When Jean sees a resident yelling at a nurse, he jumps in and threatens to have their license revoked. He will dig under their skin and page them incessantly throughout the day, too, just to get back at them. Jean is not a fan of lateral violence in the workplace, no sir. 

He always, always makes sure every room is stocked and new bags are hanging for the next shift. He has a thing where if things aren’t properly organized on the unit his brain just spazzes. He’s on the unit council and education committee because he also loves to teach the new grads. He also doubles as charge nurse, when management can’t be there (there can be one or more charge nurses amongst the staff, they usually work different days, though) He and Mikasa work so well together, teaming up to get tasks done, coding patients, running them down to get scanned, etc. People joke they’re the mom and dad of the unit. It makes them both blush <3 (Eren doesn’t like it, lol)

Jean loves to see patients healing from horrendous injuries, he’s constantly cracking jokes with the awake patients to try to make them feel better, and he’s really good at calming anxious family members down. Our boy just makes such good connections with people. He’s the guy you call when your confused patient is one second away from ripping his breathing tube out. He can convince the most restless, agitated patient to chill out. He’s got the voice for it. Also people love his mullet. It looks great. 

Connie: I really didn’t know at first but I feel like Connie would make a great physical therapist. He’s got great energy, he’s funny and I could see him dancing to Earth, Wind & Fire in front of his patients to hype them up for therapy. He’d be very sweet with them 

Sasha: I’m sick and tired of the food jokes, quite honestly. She’s more than that. In my mind, she’s an occupational therapist, helping disabled patients learn to feed, dress and clean themselves again. She works directly with Connie as they round on all their patients in the hospital, they make a great team!  She’s extremely patient and would make a very good nurse, but is unsure of where life is taking her. That is until she meets Niccolo the dietician in the cafeteria, and she falls hard. He encourages her to follow her heart and she does!  

Levi: Hm. This one stumped me. Levi is a bit...cold. It’s not like he has incredible social skills. He’s meticulous and focused and kinda mean? He reminds me of an anesthesiologist, tbh. Like he’ll sedate the shit outta you for surgery, makes sure you don’t die on the table, and then drops you off to the unit as fast as he can. He never takes off his mask while in the hospital and he scrubs maybe four times before surgery. He is very good at medication calculations and knows everything about nerve blocks, intubation, pain medication and sedation. He can look at a person and just KNOW what kind of sedative to give and how much. Your blood pressure will never bottom out while he’s there, he’ll warn the surgeon and immediately get that norepinephrine started.

 If Zeke is the one operating, Levi is on his ass to finish up the surgery ASAP and to not linger, because Zeke takes his time and ignores the tele monitor alarming in the background. After surgery, this 5′2 demon will scream at the 6′ resident about the importance of blood pressure management and sedation in neurosurgical patients. Levi plays no games and he also just really hates Zeke lol

He seems like a jerk but genuinely cares about getting his peeps through surgery. His favorite surgeon to work with is Hange Zoe, because she’s brilliant and fast, but also cognizant of her patient’s hemodynamics. Levi likes taking trauma cases as long as it’s with her. When he drops a patient off to the trauma ICU or goes there to intubate, he makes sure Jean or Mikasa are there because he knows everything is gonna go smoothly. He trusts them a lot. He likes Armin, too and even let him intubate a few times. On his breaks, he’s drinking tea and reading a Williams & Sonoma catalog or scrolling through cleaning Tik Tok lol.

Erwin: This man. This beautiful and hunky beefcake. Omg. I HC him as someone who went to nursing school, became a charge nurse on the trauma unit back in the early 2000′s and fell in love with it. Erwin would eventually fall in love with leadership and educating, too. He went back to school and earned his Doctorate of Nursing Practice (a practice doctorate). He managed the trauma unit for ten years before his brilliant leadership skills and wicked smart brain got him elected as the Director of Trauma Surgery recently. He is the first person with a nursing degree and DNP to ever accomplish this, so it’s very controversial. A lot of toxic doctors threaten to leave the hospital for this (because they’re assholes), but Erwin threatens to fire them in response and it usually shuts them up. 

He often holds lectures in the hospital auditorium. With a mind and voice like his, people are so drawn in by him. He advocates for nursing staff, for reimbursement when continuing their education, better staffing, parking, etc. He makes nice with doctors and gets them to sign petitions for the nurses to get these things. He’s a bit manipulative He’s also a fantastic manager and director, he’s really good at negotiating things. The nurses and residents all love him because he rounds on every ICU frequently, brings food, and asks them how he can help. He can be a bit daunting because of his height and deep voice but once he starts talking to you, you just get sucked in. All around an absolute king. 

Hange: This character reminds me of a trauma surgeon and intensivist (ICU doctor) we have, Dr. Omi. A great surgeon, really really smart, but takes absolutely NO bullshit. She will yell at you if you freeze during intubating. She wants you to recite every step before you take it, otherwise she’ll take the tube from you and do it herself. In surgery, she’s the same way. She wants you to learn, but by her standards. If she asks a question, you better know the answer or fess up right away, she doesn’t like the “uhms” of uncertainty as you try to search for a shitty response. Either you know it or you don’t. And if you don’t, she’ll teach you. Yeah she can be rough around the edges, but she’s got a big heart. She loves her trauma team. She buys them breakfast and gives them funny personalized gifts. One time, she bought an apply tree for Mikasa and brought it to her car at the end of a shift. Mikasa forgot to plant it and it died in her backseat. Hange will sometimes ask, “Mikasa, how’s your apple tree growing?” and Mikasa will lie through her teeth. “It’s growing!” Fess up, Mikasa. Those google search apple trees are starting to look familiar.

All around Hange loves to work and teach. She is a wonderful trauma surgeon and has saved tons of lives.  

#snk headcanons #attack on titan #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #jean kirstein #connie springer #sasha braus #levi ackerman #erwin smith #hange zoe #lama writes

[hinac0lada]

I DON’T LIKE YOUR SHAMPOO

CHARACTER PAIRING | oikawa tooru x gn!reader

INFO | soulmate!au, fluff

WORDS | 1.9k 

NOTE | by the time i’m probably posting this, is one day before my beloved’s birthday FNKLFNGK ngl i’m pretty excited and i hope ya’ll are too (besides the fact that the manga is coming to an end but let’s not talk about that-) 

WARNINGS | NONE

more to see under the cut!

you live in a world where soulmate marks exist. everyone has different types of marks ranging from; timers, red strings of fate, roman numerals, half tattoos, etc. as you grow old, you watch people find their soulmates, and on some unfortunate occasions, lose them. 

each person had different views on the concept of soulmates, it wasn’t sunshine and rainbows all the time, but you stayed neutral after receiving every side of the spectrum that varied from the good side —  as well as the bad side of meeting their other halves.

you knew you were bound to meet your own soulmate either way, but you wouldn't get your hopes up just like that — until you received your soulmate mark on the morning of your 15th birthday.

it was a beautiful tattoo on your wrist. written were the words that your soulmate would say to you on your first encounter. your parents told you that the time and date of your encounter with them — along with their words to you, would turn golden as soon as you’ve said your first words to each other; just like how their soulmate mark worked. and although you were aware that every mark is different, you couldn’t help but raise a brow from confusion at the sentence that was permanently placed on your wrist.

‘well to be honest, i don’t like your perfume’

it read, an intriguing way to say to your soulmate, you thought to yourself. and that night, you couldn’t help but admire the pretty letterings on your wrist; rubbing your thumb against it, grinning from ear to ear like a fool. 

days went by from when you received your tattoo, you’d constantly wonder what your soulmate was like or when and how you were going to meet them. tracing your fingers along the tattoo turned into a habit whenever you’re bored or anxious about something. to add to that, the thought of their existence would sometimes consume you, and you’d be stuck in a loophole of questions and doubts. 

‘what if they don’t like me? or what if they don’t want to be my soulmate? what if they think i’m ugly? or a disappointment?’ 

regardless of the negative thoughts and worries you had in your head everyday, you were still eager to meet them — even if it takes a thousand years, a thousand hours, or maybe even if they are a thousand miles away, you can’t wait for the day that you’d get to meet them.

or what if it only takes a few months, or a few days? maybe even a few seconds? what if they were across the world? or just across the street? possibly next door? in spite of knowing not to get your hopes up, you can’t resist the anticipation of being face to face with the person you were promised to ever since the very beginning of your existence. 

and every day, you’d hold on to the wrist with your mark — the symbol of a promise to true love, hoping fate decides to take place sooner than expected. 

unbeknownst to you however, your true love was just within arm’s reach all this time.

it was the most awaited day of the academic year, the time where stressed out seniors get to relax for a whole day to indulge themselves in new sights and bond with their fellow batch mates before the dreaded era of finals — field trip day. 

everyone had their own plans, going to after school hang outs right after the planned trip, a handful bringing digital cameras to capture each moment , that one kid in class who has great taste in music providing the speaker, and the rest just going with the flow of today’s agenda.

while the majority of students did plan their seating arrangements on the bus, you, on the other hand, decided against it. in your opinion, it wasn’t a big deal. it was just a 2 hour drive to the destination so what could possibly go haywire? plus, it didn’t matter who was your companion on the bus, it’d open up the opportunity to get to know unfamiliar faces, being divided by classes and all, so what could possibly go wrong?

maybe, possibly everything.

who would’ve thought, out of all of your batch mates, you get to sit beside the grand king himself, oikawa tooru.

it wasn’t like his personality was completely intolerable, it’s the complete opposite, really. he was charming, greeting you with a close eyed grin before sitting down next to you. in the face of all the chaos his friends warned you the male would bring— plus the many chilling glares from his countless fan girls, his presence never shook you the wrong way at all.

you weren’t complete strangers, but you weren’t well acquainted either. you were in a different class and the only time you’d see his pretty face was when you’d pass each other in the hallways. but, what's there not to like about oikawa tooru? he was attractive, a gentleman, a charmer, a friendly being, and everything was as easy as apple pie.

“hey, just a heads up, shittykawa over here has a habit of sleeping on anyone’s shoulder. don’t be afraid to push his head aside when you’re uncomfortable.” iwaizumi hajime, his best friend and the hunk of aoba johsai, patted your shoulder reassuringly before taking his seat behind the two of you, alongside him was hanamaki takahiro and matsukawa issei - who were snickering at the flustered setter beside you. 

for some reason, you thought iwaizumi was just joking or he said that to make oikawa look bad — in which he failed. and so you didn’t take his statement seriously, disregarding it completely. and now you regret ever doing so, because it turned out to come true, eventually biting you back in the ass.

things took a turn when you suddenly felt the weight of the world on your shoulder  — idiomatically and literally.

it was exactly 30 minutes into the drive to your destination and you were on your phone to pass by the time, minding your own business when you suddenly felt pressure on your shoulder. you peered at your shoulder, only to be met with the sight of a sleeping oikawa, snoring lightly with his lips slightly parted.

you stayed still as a rock, not wanting to disturb his slumber - which he probably needed. although you didn’t plan to get him off your shoulder any time soon, you were clueless as to what to do if he doesn’t wake up. you glanced at his friends, who were expecting the whole thing to happen.

“do you need help with him?” hanamaki questioned, taking notice of your gaze at their trio. iwaizumi took your loss of words as agreement and got ready to shake his friend awake, until you stopped him.

“i-it’s okay.. i don’t mind really,” you reassured the three, giving a warm smile before focusing back on your phone, catching glimpses of the sleeping oikawa once in a while. you were far from annoyed. if anything else, you found it comforting for no apparent reason, his warmth that is. 

once you knew he was deep in rest, you shifted to a much more comfortable position for the two of you, one where you can almost smell his scent. which was a big mistake, because you remembered your allergies to this specific shampoo which was unfortunately the one he had right now. 

loreal shampoo.

oh the terror it gave you, you started to get war flashbacks to when you used it on your own hair as well, the horror of sneezing until your eyes were watery sent shivers down your spine at the cringe. 

and as much as you attempted to conceal your allergies, it backfired in the end and now you were left in a mess; sneezing profusely while scrambling to get your medications. you cursed your sensitive nostrils, seeing as you’ve woken up the brunette beside you, unaware of the situation at hand, his half lidded eyes looking around in a daze.

in the process of consuming your medicine, he asked if you were okay, rubbing the tiredness away from his eyes. 

“i.. don’t like your shampoo.” you managed to reply back in the midst of trying to calm down from the sudden attack of your allergies. oikawa, being clueless as to what you were trying to imply, took offense in your words. yet you couldn’t blame him, your answer was quite vague and it caught him off guard.

“well to be honest, i don’t like your perfume,” he retorted back with a pout embellishing his features, earning him an awfully painful smack on the back of his head from iwaizumi, accompanied with the eye rolls coming from hanamaki and matsukawa.

“dumbass, they have rhinitis. your shampoo triggered their allergies” iwaizumi explained to the setter, who was wincing in agony from the impact. You were on the verge of apologizing when the words that escaped his lips gave a sense of familiarity, as though you were accustomed to the sentence.

and then it both hit you. oikawa’s brown eyes dilated with realization, that look of his says it all. it was happening. how could you ever forget those words you were longing to hear, those words that you knew would bring you to your destiny someday?

it felt too surreal, you were immobilized with disbelief and shock. 

but then you felt an itch on your hand. and in a synchronized manner, you and oikawa looked at your own wrists, it was really happening. he was your soulmate. your promised lover. 

‘7/19/20.

2:20 PM’

the letters read in gold ink, a sight to behold. (e/c) irises clashed with one of chocolate brown, filled with bewilderment. your face heated up at the sight of his pink tinted cheeks. you’ve found your way home.

“what’s going on? they’re acting strange...” matsukawa whispers in hanamaki’s ear, baffled at the scene in front of him. iwaizumi then points a finger at their wrists, the distinct color of gold catching his attention.

after a while of literally staring into each other’s souls, a hearty laugh escapes your lips. the corners of oikawa’s lips tugged into a genuine smile, in which you reciprocated with one of your own. 

you were grateful that your first encounter was one of mediocrity - in a good way, of course. it was as if you were meeting an old friend, the warmth that his gaze holds gave you a sense of comfort. 

that smile of his was practically screaming ‘you’re home’. you’ve finally met your soulmate; face to face, and now your destiny rests in his hands, while his rests on your own.

the situation eventually calmed down and you two finally accepted the fact that you are soulmates. the bus was silent, light snores echoing, and everything was tranquil. you could see oikawa’s struggle from the corner of your eyes, his eyelids getting heavier for the nth time, trying not to repeat his mistake from earlier. 

“oikawa-”

“tooru, call me tooru please,” he corrected, a lopsided grin plastered on his face. his eyes fluttering, attempting to stay awake. 

“tooru, it’s okay, you can sleep on my lap instead,” you chuckled, hearing him mumble his gratitude, his head making its way to your lap. it was as if immediately, he was off to dream land once again, your hands gently running through his soft locks whilst trying to doze off as well.

“y’know, i think we should recommend each other products sometime.”

“good idea, maybe after this trip, tooru.”

“deal. well, good night.. my soulmate.”

“sweet dreams, my home.”

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[kirisenpai]

Rio x Reader : Break In Episode

This is the shittiest thing I have ever written in my entire EXISTENCE. I couldn’t get Rio out of my head. I woke up yesterday morning and just immediately started writing about this encounter in my “notes” app. I know it’s not the best by any means but there’s not a lot of Rio fics out there. Something is better than nothing I guess... :/ Also I don’t like using “Y/N” because i feel like it takes away from the story, we already know it’s us we’re imagining when we read this so..

________________________________________________________

You had just finished cleaning up the bathroom after a shower and were grabbing the last of your things before heading out the room. That’s when you heard it. You heard the clicking of heals against hardwood floors. The shuffling and ramming of dresser drawers. Rio was away on business so you knew you had to hold down the fort but god dammit were you completely clueless to where he hid his guns. You guess this was about to be one hell of a cat fight. You breathed in deeply, exhaled slowly, and began to walk silently out into the open living space.

A white woman? Who the hell was she? She was dressed like she worked a normal 9-5 , and her shoes- why the hell would you rob someone in granny heals?

She was standing with her back turned to you comparing keys on a key ring. You knew that was your time to pounce. Seeing her distracted, you silently padded over to her. You quickly reached out and grabbed her hair at the root, and kicked in the back of her knees, forcing her to kneel. “Who are you?” With one hand still pulling her hair you used your other to press at the pressure point in the juncture between her neck and collar bone.

“I- Um, I-“

“Spit it out bitch, I don’t have all day.” You we’re ready to bash her head into the drawers if need be. You had to pick up Marcus from school, Rio’s business was not supposed to intermingle with his personal life. You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of a small click and jumped back as you realized she’d pulled a knife on you. “I don’t care which whore of the week you are, but I’m here on business!” She said with newfound confidence, puffing out her chest as she did so.

You figured now was the time to channel your inner Rio; since this woman wanted to test your gangsta, now was the time to start acting like one.“Oh ho ho,” you chuckled lowly, “you think a little knife is gonna scare me, sweetheart?” 

The woman looked taken aback, as if she saw him in you. But she didn’t have time to retort as you lunged for her. Both of you were on the ground, hair pulling and face bashing ensued. You let her have it, any pent up aggression, any anxiety, all the adrenaline that had built up during the intrusion had sent your body into maximum overdrive and your hands were trying to mangle any flesh they came onto contact with. She landed a few cuts on you with the knife, a few on your face, a few on your arms, but you kept pushing.

With the woman’s hair still in your hand you ripped yourself from her clutches and stood up. Dragging her behind you to the open window which you assumed was her point of entry. “It’s time for you to leave, miss lady. You’ve overstayed your welcome.” To be honest, you didn’t know what to do with the woman, bash her head against the windowsill? Attempt to push her out? Or stand there and wait? While you contemplated you felt a sting to the back on your thigh. You howled out in pain realizing that the woman had stabbed you deep, all the way to the hilt. Adrenaline coursing through your body once more, you held the woman’s head still as you kicked her face in. You heard a crushing noise as your knee connected with her nose. “Son of a bitch!” She cried out, her hand leaving the knife in your thighs to nurse her newly broken nose. You drew in a big breath and pulled the knife out of your thigh, letting out a low groan as you did so. The woman flared at you as you squatted down to her level. You looked at her with fake sympathy and whispered in her ear,” You might want to go home and ice that you know?”

She glared at you and pushed herself off the ground with one hand, the other still on her nose. You gestured to the window with open hands and bowed,” Thank you, it’s been a lovely visit.” She glared at you, while picking her purse off a nearby chair, “I will be back, but I doubt you’ll be here when I do. I’m sure you’ve overstayed your welcome as well.” And with that the woman crawled through the window, cursing as blood dropped down onto the windowsill.

You sighed and shut the window behind her, staying to watch as she shimmied her way down the fire escape. You turned and looked at the mess you’ve made, blood on the floor, and the picture of Rio and his son that once sat on the dresser was now on the floor in pieces. It must have happened during the scuffle. You glanced up at the clock and you knew you wouldn’t be able to clean all of this up and go pick up Marcus on time. You decided to call Rhea, Marcus’ mother, and let her know that some “business” had popped up and you couldn’t pick up Marcus. She was going to visit family this weekend and was supposed to be leaving for her flight soon, but you hoped she would understand.

Once you had made arrangements for her to pick him up and drop him off back at Rio’s, you set to work. You decided to nurse your wounds first so that the blood would be the last thing you had to clean up. You limped to the bathroom gripping your thigh. You turned the knob on cold and let the shower run while you stripped yourself of your bloodied clothes and folded them into the sink.

You jumped when you stepped into the shower, flinching at the cold water. You closed your eyes letting the water run over you, and when you opened them you couldn’t help but chuckle. It looked like you were on your period with the amount of blood that was going down the drain. You finished wiping the crusted blood away from the shallow cuts on your face and arm and began to inspect the wound on your thigh. You knew the gash was deep and would probably need stitches. It was a good thing you kept medical supplies that you used to on Rio when he would come home after taking care of “business”.

You let out another deep sigh, and shut off the water. You walked over to the the cabinet and pulled out the first aid kit which housed sutures and gauze pads. Pulling out the needed supplies you made your way to the full length mirror and began to bend over so that you were peaking in between your legs. An awkward position that would surely result in a horrible stitch, but it would have to do until Rio came home. Once you finished that up, you saw that the cut on your cheek would need two stitches as well.

After bandaging the different areas you threw on a black cami with matching shorts in order to keep your bandages from rubbing against your clothes. You then proceeded to walked to the hall closet and got out the bleach, mop, broom, and a couple of rags.

With a sigh you began to sweep up the broken glass and mop up the blood that trailed from the dresser in the living room to the adjacent windowsill. Hell, you even cleaned up the intruder’s blood that had spilled on the fire escape. After the living room was clean you hobbled back to the bathroom to bleach the tub and mop the floor. You wanted all evidence of the brawl to be erased before Marcus got home. You packed all the cleaning supplies up and tread back to the closet. Opening the door you ran a hand down your face in frustration, it looks like you’re going to have to play Tetris to figure out where you got the items from.

You pulled the box down and inspected it. Curiosity got the better of you and you shook the box wondering what was inside it. You tried to pry it open like a dumbass, but alas it was locked. That’s when you remembered you saw the woman looking at a ring of keys before. The keys in the drawer in the living room! You made a dash for the keys, finding them folded in a piece of paper in the top right drawer. You shook the keys looking for the smallest one, hoping it would fit the lock box. Once you did you made your way back to the hallway and inserted the keys, smiling when you heard the ‘click’. With wide eyes you saw a gun and a box of bullets. “Oh I got something for your bitch ass next time,” you thought to yourself as you attempted to load the gun. You had never in your entire life held one, you had seen Rio’s when he puts it on the nightstand but he never allowed you to touch it. You quickly put everything back in the closet, save for the gun which you hid under the right side of the couch.

Once finished you drew the living room curtains closed and turned out all the lights. It was 3:27pm and Rhea would be there soon with Marcus. You didn’t want him to see you like this, both you and Rio wanted him to stay completely oblivious to this lifestyle. Hell, you wanted to be oblivious as well, you had never imagined you would be in this kind of situation. You’re still just a college student after all.

You heard three knocks on the door, which meant it was either Rio or Rhea. You took a deep breath before opening the door and smiled big, “Hey big man!” You saw Rhea and Marcus standing there all smiles. You quickly engulfed Marcus in a hug, not giving him any time to inspect your face. You mouthed a quick thank you to Rhea who handed you his backpack. “Marcus, come give me a kiss, say goodbye.” She bent down and kissed him gently on his forehead. Once their embrace ended she looked at you as if she wanted to say something more but she just shook her head,” keep my son safe and out of trouble. I mean that,” she said sternly. You looked at her with determination,” with my life.” And with that she was off.

You brought Marcus into the house and locked the door. “You hungry, kid?” You ask walking towards the kitchen. “What happened to you!” He asked running up behind you noticing the bandage on your thigh. You turned to him with a fake pouty face, “I slipped getting out the shower, that’s why I couldn’t pick you up on time.”

His mouth was wide with awe as he inspected your face, he then pouted too, “Does it hurt? Are you okay?”

You gave him a huge grin, “Of course I’m okay nene! Now, what would you like to eat? Do you have homework?” He slipped into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and placed his chin in his hand just like his father does all the time when he watches you cook. “No homework. Can we have Dino nuggets?” He said that too coolly for your liking.

“Marcus,” you chided,” are you sure you don’t have any homework at all?” You side eyed him as you reached into the freezer to pull out the nuggets. “I mean,” he started,” just math. But that’s not important, there’s no school tomorrow!”

“Sly boy”, you thought as your rolled your eyes. You preheated the oven and then put the nuggets on a baking sheet. “Well, if you do your homework now, you won’t have to do it later, and then you can play all weekend without any worries,” you explained to him. You walked over to his backpack which was sitting on the couch and proceeded to go through it. Once you found his agenda you read over today’s notes from his teacher about how he was a good student and saw that there was a basic worksheet for the students to do. You got out the worksheet and a pencil and sat with him at the table. “We can do it super quick while we wait for the oven to heat up!” “He looked down defeated, but knew there was no winning you over.

You sat and helped him add and subtract with his fingers until the oven beeped. “Here, look for the ones you think you can do on your own, and I’ll be back to help you with the other ones, okay?” He nodded as you got up and put the nuggets in the oven. You then proceeded to make broccoli and Mac n cheese for the both of you while he finished off the easier questions.

While the water was coming to a boil for the pasta you checked on him and his work. You gave him a kiss on the head and praised him for a job well done. After helping with a few more problems you went back to cooking.

When the homework was done and dinner was ate you decided to give him his bath early. “Would you like to have a movie night? I’ll pop us some popcorn!” You asked as you handed him his pajamas. He was elated at the idea and raced to get his clothes on so he could be the first one on the couch. Marcus adored the movie “Where the Wild Things Are,” and loved the different monster plushies that took up most of the space in his small room. He selected the movie from Netflix as you popped the popcorn for the both of them.

“Scooch ya mooch,” you said to him as you sat on the couch. He let out a giggle and gave you room to sit down, but came right back to cuddle up in your lap. You decided to prop your legs up on the other end since he was going to be all up under you. You stroked his head as he munched on some popcorn. His eyes never left the screen, it was as if it was his first time viewing the movie.

He fell asleep that way. And when the movie ended you decided to turn off the tv and enjoy the silence that surrounded you two. You reached for the remote which had fell on the floor, and that’s when you felt the gun that you hard forgotten you had placed under the couch. Adrenaline courses through your body again as you remembered what happened earlier, and that the woman promised she’d be back. You grabbed the remote with shaky hands and fumbled with it for a bit before hitting the power button.

You’re on the cusp of sleep as Marcus’ quiet breathing comforted you like white noise. You forced yourself to stay awake, at least until Rio came home, so you would be able to protect him in case anything happened.

You decided to carry Marcus to his bed and tuck him in, in case the woman did come back. You kissed him on his head and watched him sleep for a bit without a care in the world. You decided to pour yourself a glass of wine and went back to the couch, sitting. Waiting.

Your eyes began to get heavier and heavier. You didn’t know how long you had been sitting there, just basking in the darkness of the quiet room. It was calming, washing away all the intense moments of the day. That was until you saw the door handle jiggle.

You quickly grabbed the gun and stood up. You winced at the pain in your leg but figured it was do or die time, again. Marcus was here and you had to protect him at all costs. You had no idea what that woman wanted or if she had brought friends back. But you knew that if it had to do with Rio, it was never anything good.

With bloodshot eyes and adrenaline pumping through your body you cocked the gun as the intruder opened the door.

“Woah woah woah, hey,” Rio looked surprised at first and then he glanced over to Marcus’s room which was off to the side of the open layout. “Put the gun down,” he said sternly, a frown gracing his features. You sighed and he came and took the gun out of your hand. “I-“ you started but he grabbed you roughly by your arm and all but drug you to the bedroom. He threw the gun on the bed and turned to you, furious. “No guns around my son, are you crazy? Have you lost your mind?”

He spoke harshly, that was, until he saw the bandages and stitches on your face, the moonlight shining on you through the bedroom window to show evidence of the scuffle you had been in earlier. His features softened for a moment as he looked it you, then harmed again as he realized the reality of the situation. He quickly reached behind you and flipped the lights on. You squeezed your eyes shut, having been in the darkness for most of the night.

“What happened to you mama?” He questioned, his voice soft but his features stern and he came to move a lock of hair from your face. You flinched a bit thinking he was going to touch your stitches but quickly accepted the affectionate gesture. You took a deep breath before explaining the situation. “Some lady broke into the house. She was looking for something. We ended up fighting but she had a knife. She cut me up and stabbed me in my leg.”

He was already inspecting your body once you finished your story. He saw the cut on your arm and looked behind to see the bloody gauze that covered your thigh. He looked up at you, his expression one of rage ,” When was this? What did she look like? Was Marcus home? I swear to god if Marcus was home-“ You quickly shushed him and you bent down to his level, wincing as you did so. “It was before I went to pick up Marcus. When I was about to leave I heard her rummaging around in the living room. After she left I called Rhea and had her pick him up for me. I don’t know who she was, some white woman. I guess she thought I was some common whore because she said she would come back when I was gone. Assuming we had a one night stand...Are you cheating on me ‘Christopher’?” You question with a playful tone, trying to diffuse his rage with a small joke.

He gives a small huff and rolls his eyes as he helps you to stand. With a gentle kiss to your forehead he whispers,” No I ain’t cheating on you, mama. You my girl.” You smile and lean into him, accepting his warmth. But the embrace doesn’t last too long and he pulls away and walks over to the bathroom. “We need to change your bandage.” You sighed and walked over to the end of the bed and bent over the mattress, allowing your legs to hang off the side.

When he came back out he couldn’t help but chuckle,” I would love to see you like that under different circumstances.” You let out a huff and rolled your eyes. “Just change the damn bandage.”

He bent down and began to take off the bandage, seeing your wound had reopened. “You did a shit job of stitching yourself up, mama,” he said quietly as he cleaned the wound. You squeezed your eyes shut at the stinging sensation, “oh shut the hell up, it was the best I could do.”

He gave you a quick pat on your ass before undoing the stitches. He had never done this before, you were the one who always patched him up. Now the roles were reversed. But he would try anything for you. Do anything for you. So he tried his best.

Once he was satisfied with his work he replaced the bandage and you sat up. He walked toward you and you leaned into his abdomen. His eyes shifted to the gun that was still on the bed,” Where’d you get it?”

You looked up in confusion, “Hm? Get what?” Then your head turned to follow his gaze. “Oh, it’s yours. I found it in the closet. I didn’t know when you or her would be back,”Your face contorted into a frown, “but I’d be damned if she set foot in this apartment again with Marcus inside of it.”

You began to shake a bit, thinking of all the possibilities of how the night could’ve went if it was her and not Rio who stepped through that door. You closed you eyes as Rio pet your head, soothing you. “I’m here now mama, and I ain’t gonna let nothing happen to both of you. But I gotta go now.”

“Again?!” You wine,” But you just got here.” You give him a pout as you reach for the waste of his pants and pull him close. He grabs your hands from his pants and kisses each of them. He pulls you up and embraces you ,”I gotta take care of business mama. You held it down for me and now Ima hold it down for you. You weren’t tryna be involved in this lifestyle but damn did you try, for me.” He places his fingers under your chin and tips your head up to look at him,” Thank you baby.” He kisses you, deep and passionate. Full of all the love he has for you.

Before you can move to intertwine your arms around his neck he pulls away. He grabs the gun off the bed and looks at it for a second. “I guess you kinda need this now, huh?” He walks over to your side of the bed and holsters the gun on a spot hidden in a gap between the mattress and headboard. He gives you a chaste kiss on the lips before heading to the door. “Get some rest mamas,” he says turning the knob,” I’ll be back soon.” And with that he left, head filled with images of the one woman bold enough to pull some shit like this. She was getting out of line, forgetting her place.. It looks like he would just have to remind her that you don’t fuck with a King and his Queen.

He was so furious he couldn’t see straight. He was blinded by rage. That bitch has the nerve, the audacity, to come into his house and lay hands on his woman? Whatever the fuck she thought this was she had it completely twisted. He called up Mick and his boys and had them meet him at Beth’s house.

He let himself into her house with the spare key he had made and trudged up the stairs to her bedroom. He didn’t give a damn if she heard him coming. Didn’t give a damn if she got scared.

Once he reached her bedroom he flicked on the lights and pulled his gun from the waist of his pants. He shot a bullet into the ceiling.

Beth awoke with a scream. Alert as ever, her eyes darted around the room to see Rio’s boys surrounding the bed, with the main man himself leaning against the door frame. “Goodmorning darlin’,” he said smoothly. “Rio what the fuck are you doing here. It’s too early for this shit.” Beth said with a scowl.

“My girl told me you paid us a little visit today... Why the fuck were you in my house Elizabeth?”

“Your girl? You mean that whore that was in the apartment. I thought she was just a fuck.” Before Beth could speak any further, Rio shot the headboard, the bullet barely missing her head. “You better watch what you say, darlin’,” he said, his voice a low warning, “And yes, my girl.” Rio was livid all over again. Fuck being calm and collected. He motioned for his men to grab Beth, “Come on, let’s have a little talk.”

Beth stuttered and protested as the men grabbed her by her arms and drug her out the bed and down the stairs.

There they stood in the living room. Rio eyeing Beth up and down, admiring your handy work. “Looks like she got you good. I’ll have to give her, her props later.”

He stalked towards Beth and tilted her head from side to side with his gun. He winced as he inspected her face, “ Whew, a broken nose? Damn, you go baby.” He saw the many bruises on Beth’s face and his inner conscious beamed with pride that his girl was able to hold her own. He knew he didn’t pick her for nothing. She was the one who would hold him down, and she proved her worth today.

“Now, tell me why,” he started, as he pulled back shaking the gun in his hand,” I shouldn’t put a couple slugs in you for touching my girl? Damn the breaking and entering.” He eyed Beth up and down again, looking for potential places to shoot.

Beth gaped her mouth open and closed like a fish, looking for the right words to say. “First off, your girl? Rio I’m your girl-“

“You ain’t shit.” He quickly cut her off, stalking towards her. She could feel his breath fanning out over her face as she looked up at him with wide eyes. “You ain’t shit but a business partner. You’re just ‘work’.”

“This,” he said as he motioned the gun from his chest to hers, “ ain’t nothin’ but work darlin’.”

“But Rio I-,” Rio backhanded her with the gun and watched as she stumbled back to the couch behind her, spitting out blood onto the floor. “Shh shh shh, don’t speak darlin’, you’re in deep enough shit already.” He back away from her and ran a hand over his mouth, working his stubble over. He decided to conclude his visit with one final warning. “Never forget your place, and never forget you are replaceable. Just as I taught you, I can always teach her, too. Now stay the fuck away from my girl and never come back to my house again.”

With that he left. He knew he shouldn’t kill her now, but damn did he want to. He motioned for him and his boys to leave the woman to wallow in her thoughts. He felt no pity for her or any feelings she had for him. All he knew was that he needed to get back to his girl.

______________________________________________________

It’s complete D O G SHIT but i did it!!! I feel like it got better with all the dialogue at the end but literally this was a dream I had. SO i wanted to retell it exactly like how it happened in my dream. 

@fandom138 @averyraeleigh @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @cardio-princess @dopeybubbles @my-life-is-here-soo @stuff4me2do @uhlxis @minniecrybabyxx @india-nicole19

#rio x reader #good girls fic #good girls nbc #i'm so embarrassed #because this is super shitty #too many uses of the word you

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

Your Hand In Mine ~ Bucky x Reader Oneshot (Request)

A/n: Hi my lovelies! Happy weekend, I hope everyone is doing alright and staying healthy. So I received this request I think like two days after I announced my hiatus and it’s been sitting in my inbox since then. But it’s also been percolating in my brain since then and I’m finally happy with how it turned out.  I hope you will enjoy it too. 

Thanks for the request @ashhys-lost-in-fanfics-again​

Request:  Hi! I love your writing! I have a Bucky x Reader idea, iydm. R's a powerful Avenger. She has a RIGHT(important it's her right) metal arm. It's rose gold when it's not covered by her skin graft. Bucky is being teased by team&gets upset. He yells no one understands how hard the burden is and storms off. R goes after him to comfort, he turns on her, asking how she'd know? She gently disables her skin graft&shows her rose gold metal arm. Fluff & Angst please!

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x reader, Sam, Steve, Clint, Nat and Tony are mentioned. 

Rating: T 

WARNINGS: Trauma, loss of limb, mild language, angst, but there’s a lot of fluff too! 

Disclaimer: My medical knowledge is limited to what I could glean from google so if there’s anything that doesn’t make sense I apologize. 

Word Count: 4230

Bucky grunted as he attempted to reach the knot that had formed in his shoulder blade but no matter which way he twisted or turned he couldn’t get the right pressure. He gave up on using his flesh arm and went in search of a tennis ball or even better a softball.

After finally locating one in the equipment closet, Bucky found the nearest wall and set to work maneuvering the ball into position. He had just found the right spot when you and Sam entered the gym, chattering happily about the movie you’d seen the night before.

Your animated tone made Bucky smile.

“Morning, Bucky,” you greeted him cheerfully.

“Morning, y/n.”

“Turning into a cat, Barnes?” Sam called when he spotted him shimmying his back against the wall.

“Can it, birdbrain,” Bucky snapped, smile falling.

Grumbling about being interrupted when he’d finally started feeling relief, he pulled off the wall and pocketed the ball before storming out of the gym.

“Sam,” you sighed as you dropped your bag and began stretching.

“Don’t ‘Sam’ me. Last week he disconnected his arm enough that I yanked it off and hit myself in the face when he helped me up. It’s fair game.”

“I suppose.”  

Bucky gave as good as he got, and you all knew neither of them meant anything by it. But today you could see he was in pain, but mostly he was frustrated.

“You can’t treat him with kid gloves,” Sam stated firmly.  

“I know. And I don’t think we should, but this is more than him being grumpy. He’s in real pain.”

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll lay off until he settles down a bit.”

“Thank you.”

The two of you started stretching.

“You know, if you’re really worried about him being sore, you could always offer to give him a massage,” Sam smirked and waggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes before you actually considered at.

“Actually. That’s not a bad idea.”

His eyes widened as he froze.

“Wait. You’re really going to offer to give Barnes a massage.”

“Not exactly. But I think I have something that could help.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll tell you later. After I kick your ass.”

“Oh you are on.”

After a full morning of sparring with Sam and then a round of weight training with Steve you were more than a little sore. You settled yourself in the living room post shower with your foam roller and your trigger point massager.

“How was your workout?” Bucky asked as he closed his book, watching you roll back and forth to relax your quad.

“It was good. I think Steve is trying to make sure I can bench press him soon.”  

“I’d pay money to see that.”

You huffed out a laugh which quickly turned into a groan when you started rolling out your other leg.

“It would be pretty hilarious,” you agreed wincing slightly when your shoulder twinged. “I’m not far off. I’m at 220 now.”

“Pretty impressive considering you started lifting like a month ago.”

“Started lifting again,” you corrected him. “I used to lift when I was in the marines.”

“I didn’t know you served.”

“Marine corporal y/n y/l/n at your service.”

Folding yourself so you sat criss cross, you pulled out the trigger point massager debating which end to use.

“What’s that?” Bucky asked as he watched you.

“It helps me get the knots out of the hard to reach places without putting me in more pain. It was a lifesaver when Nat decided I needed to be able to do a full rings performance.”

“Um. Why?”

“They needed me to go in as a gymnastics coach for the men’s team. Had to prove myself.”

“Wow. You’re something else.”

You sighed out your thanks as you hit the knot just the right way to get it to release. Bucky eyed you curiously trying to figure out if it would help him, but also not wanting to ask. You had to bite your tongue to keep from offering it; you knew he was apt to refuse.

“Y/n, can you come help me with dinner?” Sam called.

“Coming, Sammy!”

You started to push yourself to your feet but your arms buckled and you fell back onto your butt with a grunt.

“Need a hand?” Bucky teased, already on his feet.

“No,” you tried again with similar results. “Alright, maybe I could use some help,” you finally sigh.

Chuckling, you grabbed both of Bucky’s hands as he hauled you to your feet.

“Thanks, Buck,” you breathed, caught off guard by the spark the contact gave you.

“Any time, doll,” he promised quietly, earning him a bright smile.

Neither of you had let go yet.

“Shake a leg, y/n!”

You rolled your eyes at Sam’s impatience.

“I’ll see you at dinner, Bucky.”

“See you.”

You squeezed his fingers lightly before releasing him. You tucked the foam roller and massager into the corner next to the couch and slipped out of the room, humming as you went.

“So did he go for it?” Sam asked as he handed you an onion to chop.

“We’ll see.”

 Bucky stared at his hands for a moment; he’d felt a spark when he touched you. And he was almost certain you did too. It was the most contact the two of you had had since you joined the team six months prior, and it damn near knocked Bucky on his butt.

Shaking away the distraction he moved to return to his book, but hesitated as he looked at the massager. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt if he tried it. You had always been very generous with things far more valuable and personal than this. Bucky picked up the massager and settling the curve over his shoulder gasped in relief as it hit where he needed it immediately.

This particular pain had been plaguing him for weeks and to feel it recede was nearly euphoric.

 When you passed by the common room to call everyone for dinner, you noticed Bucky was no longer there and your massager was precisely where you’d left it. Frowning, you gathered everyone you could and asked FRIDAY to call the rest.

Bucky and Steve were the last to join the table, laughing boisterously as they entered. You could see the lightness in him as he sat next to Natasha, and Sam shot you a knowing smile. And, if you happened to notice a massager of his own arrive in the mail a few days later, you didn’t mention it. If you did everything in your power to have more casual contact with Bucky, then you didn’t mention that either.  

The phantom pain was the worst in Bucky’s opinion. All of the other aches and pains he could at least try to alleviate them. But the phantom pain, he simply had to wait it out. Sometimes he would try to work out until his body was exhausted, but still the pain came. So he turned to distraction.

Which is how he found himself sitting in the common room glaring at the television on his third round of channel surfing through nine thousand eight hundred and twelve stations. This was after nearly an hour of searching Netflix for anything to hold his attention.

“Hey, Bucky,” you chirped as you breezed into the room.

He merely grunted out a hello.

“I made tea. Thought you might want some,” you explained as you raised the deep blue mug that he favored.

A smidgen of his gruffness slipped away in the face of your thoughtfulness.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

You smiled and handed him the mug before preparing to retreat to your room to give him some peace and quiet.

“Did you – I mean, you’re welcome to sit. I mean stay if you want. I was just going to find something mindless to watch.”

Your bright smile continued to chip away at the pain induced grumpiness.

“I’d love to.”

You grabbed your favorite blanket and wrapped it around you before settling on the couch to his left.

Bucky tensed as you took your seat. His left side was always left open, he felt caged in, waiting for you to remember the horrible atrocities that hand had borne witness to and get as far as way from it as you can.

But instead you plucked the remote from his metal hand, unthinkingly brushing against it without so much as a flinch. Bucky wasn’t sure what to make of that, but it relaxed him.  

“So what did you wanna watch?” you asked as you blew on your tea and opened the app menu.  

“I dunno. Any suggestions?”

“Well my favorite brainless show is Galavant.”

“What’s that about?”

“It is a comedy musical extravaganza,” you quoted the tag line. “Basically Monthy Python meets Princess Bride meets my high school drama club.”

Bucky chuckled at the explanation.

“You were in the drama club?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Please tell me your performances are on video.”

“Even if they were, they would not see the light of day.”

“Why not? I bet you were adorable.”

The words slipped out without him thinking about it, and you turned quirking an eyebrow and trying to hide a smile at the blush rising on his cheeks.

“I just mean, I’m sure you were a great actress. You’re one of the best spies we have.”

“Believe it or not, that’s a skill not a talent.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d still love to see that footage.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes.

“I bet you would, Barnes. But they are under lock and key.”

“So they do exist!”

“Let’s just watch Galavant?”

Bucky yielded with a triumphant smile.

“Let’s give it a shot. It certainly sounds interesting.”

“Yay.”

Bucky was skeptical throughout the first couple of episodes.

“It gets better,” you promised ardently when you glanced over after the third episode.  

“I’m sure it does,” he hummed, sipping on his tea to hide his smile. “This is really good. What kind is it?”

“It’s a mix of chamomile, lavender, a little lemon, and a touch of peppermint. It’s my favorite. Always helps relax me after missions.”

Between the tea and your enthusiastic sing along during the first season, Bucky’s focus was slowly diverted from the lingering ache in his arm.

When you had started yawning, you readjusted your blanket and snuggled into his side unthinkingly. You had fallen asleep shortly after. He left his arm along the back of the couch, and angled his body slightly so your head rested on his chest instead of the hard metal of his shoulder joint. He turned off the TV, content to watch you as you slept. Soon though your deep even breaths soothed him and he fell asleep as well.

 The first thing Bucky became aware of as he woke up was a weight on his chest. Your head was pillowed just above his heart and you were sound asleep.  The second thing he noticed, but couldn’t quite believe, was that your right hand was interlaced with his left and resting on your stomach.

You were completely at peace and he had no idea what to do, so he stayed still watching you. Your other thumb stroked lightly along his forearm as you cuddled the metal like a teddy bear. Bucky hadn’t experienced this much tenderness since before the war. He hadn’t experienced this much casual affection ever.

He watched as your fingers flexed ever so slightly between his. If he closed his eyes he could feel warmth and the softness of your touch. And for the first time since he fell from the train, he wished a phantom feeling would last forever.

Over the next few weeks you always seemed to manage to brush up against his metal arm in some way – passing food at dinner, or reaching for the elevator button at the same time. Dozens of times. And each time Bucky’s heart would beat just a little bit faster.

But then a mission went wrong. You’d been posing as a married couple vacationing in the Cayman Islands as you tried to get close to the banker for a number of the major criminal syndicates around the world.

Pretending to be in love with Bucky Barnes was easy when you were halfway to actually being in love with him. You were close to the end of the mission when there was a problem and you had to drop Bucky’s hand and distance yourself from him. It brought enough attention that you got made. And soon you were fighting for your life.

It had been a week since the mission and Bucky hadn’t spoken a word to you since debrief. Today was the first time you saw him for more than three minutes as he sat on the floor fiddling with the wiring in his wrist while his arm kit lay open in front of him on the coffee table as you, Steve, Sam, and Clint were playing gin.  

Steve was watching you sneak glances at Bucky. You had tried to find him to apologize, but when Bucky Barnes didn’t want to be found. He wasn’t.  

“Gin!” You announced happily.

“Again?” Sam groaned.

“Tally up, boys.”

“Seventy-five,” Clint grimaced before tossing his cards on the table and turning his attention to Bucky, concerned by the odd sparks coming from his arm.

“Whatcha up to, terminator?”  

“My arm hasn’t been working right since I got shocked on that last mission,” he replied without looking up.

“What do you mean not working?” Sam asked.

“Can’t really control it. My touch is too light or too harsh. I can’t regulate it.”  

“That didn’t happen last time you got hit,” Sam observed.

“Yeah, but last time I wasn’t shoved into a lake while being electrocuted.”

The younger man hummed, dipping his head in acknowledgment. You grimaced knowing it was your fault he got pushed in the lake.

“Should we call Shuri?” Steve worried.

“It’s fine. I’m sure I can fix it.”

“It’s been a few days now.”

“Drop it, Steve,” Bucky nearly growled.

“Did you try turning off and back on again?” Clint offered before he and Sam broke out into a fit of laughter.  

“Maybe you should stick it in some rice.”

“Enough,” Steve warned as Bucky gathered his things and headed for the door.

“Come on, Barnes, we’re only joking.”

“It’s not a joke! Just leave me alone. None of you know what it’s like living with this… this thing every day,” Bucky shouted as he rushed out of the room.

Steve made to go after him but you stopped him, with a gentle hand to his chest.

“I’ll go.”

“Y/n.”

“Steve, it’s time,” you told him pointedly.

Narrowing his eyes, Steve nodded after a moment of internal debate.

“Your choice.”

Offering him a reassuring smile, you turned towards the elevator.

“Y/n,” Clint murmured, making you pause. “Tell Barnes we’re sorry.”

“We didn’t realize it was an over the line day.”

“I’ll tell him,” you agreed.

You hurried towards the elevator, leaving the apologetic superheroes behind.

“Seventh floor please, FRIDAY.”

“Yes, Agent Y/l/n.”

Stepping out onto Steve and Bucky’s floor, you took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

“Go away!” He shouted from deep within the room.  

“Bucky, it’s me. Please can I come in?”

“Just leave me alone, doll,” he insisted but you could tell he was just behind the door this time.

“Bucky, please. I just want to help.”

Silence.

But you weren’t ready to give up yet, so you leaned against his door.

He only lasted a couple of minutes before unlocking the door and allowing you in. His head hung low as you stepped past him and he recoiled when you reached to comfort him so you let your hand drop.

“Can I take a look? I think I can help.”

“I tried all of the normal fixes, and last time I checked you weren’t a biomechanical engineer so I’m not really sure how you can help,” he explained, trying to hustle you out the door.

You tried not to be annoyed by his dismissiveness, but it ruffled you nonetheless. If only he knew.

“I may not be an engineer but I have a lot of experience with prosthetics. I understand-“

“Oh really?” he snapped, frustration getting the better of him. “What the hell do you understand? Do you understand the phantom pain and the way my skin feels like it’s still ripping apart? Do you know how it feels when you have a part of you that you can’t control sometimes? Do you understand how much I wish I didn’t have to be afraid of touching someone with this thing? No? Then just leave me alone,” he growled, though the despair cut through the bite.

“Bucky.”

“Please, doll. Just go.”

His head hung low and his tone was utterly defeated.

“Bucky, I do understand you. I understand all of those things,” you murmured.  

“How could you possibly?”

There was an almost hopeful undercurrent to the disbelieving question as his eyes met yours.  

“Because they happen to me too,” you sighed softly as you extended your right arm in front of you, tapping your pulse point twice to disable the holograft.

Bucky’s eyes widened as the graft retracted into a thin bracelet of rose gold, which matched your newly revealed arm.

“Wha-, how? When?” he stumbled over the questions as he examined your arm.

“I was stationed at a base hospital. There was an accident with the autoclave they used to sterilize the instruments. The steel door blew off and pinned me to the ground, which I probably would have gotten out of, but the impact sent a ton of heavy equipment piling on top of me. By the time they got me out, the damage was done and they had to amputate.”

“That’s… I had no idea.”

“Most people don’t,” you agreed quietly, averting your eyes and resisting the urge to hide your arm behind your back.

“Who does know?”

“Natasha who recruited me. Tony who built my arm and the holograft. And Steve because it glitched out on a mission and he paid the price. Like you almost did.”

“What?” he asked, his brows furrowing.

You finally looked at him.

“When we were undercover last week and I yanked away, it was because my arm was glitching and I could control my fine motor skills anymore. The last time it happened to Steve I actually managed to fracture a few of his bones. I forgot that you wouldn’t have the same problem.”

“So I didn’t hurt you?”

His body was tense as he waited for your answer.

“Oh no. Of course not.”

You heart sank to the floor as he shoulders slumped in relief.  

“Bucky, is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” you asked softly.

He nodded, meeting your gaze through his lashes.

“I thought I hurt you and that’s why you pulled away.”

You were shaking your head before he could finish his sentence.

“No. No. Oh I’m so sorry you felt that way. I didn’t want to hurt you. When it all went to shit, I regretted not telling you so much.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Honestly? Because I didn’t think you’d take me coming up to you and saying ‘hey, I’ve got a metal arm too let’s be friends’ as a good first impression.“

Bucky chuckled at the mental image you conjured eyes crinkling as they found yours.

“It certainly would have been memorable. But I suppose that’s fair.”

You hummed softly as you waited for his next move.

“So all of the things you did for me… the massager, the tea, the weirdass show?”

“All things that worked for me. And Galavant is a treasure,” she added as an afterthought.

Pursing his lips deepened his frown.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Bucky. You didn’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he argued. “I never should have yelled at you or taken my frustrations out on you. Please accept my apology.”

His oceanic eyes implored you.

“Of course. It’s all forgotten.”

“Thank you. I owe the guys an apology for today.”

“They understand,” you assured him. “They said their sorry.”

“Still, I should-“

He turned towards the door but you quickly moved in front of him.

“Will you sit your butt down.”

Bucky was shocked by the authority in your tone and immediately complied without thinking, plopping down on the nearest surface which happened to be the bed.

“Now, can I please look at your arm?” you asked softly.

If he still truly didn’t want your help you would back off.

Bucky nodded his assent, swallowing harshly.

“Where’s your kit?”

“On the desk.”

Grabbing the small screwdriver and a set of tweezers from the worn leather pouch, you sat on the bed next to him and got to work.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you mumbled as you focused on tracing the currents in his arm.

“Why do you always wear the skin graft?”

You were quiet as you thought about your answer.

“From a tactical standpoint, I’d stick out like a sore thumb. So it’s a necessity on missions.”

“But around the team?”

“I wanted one less thing for them to make assumptions about when I joined I guess.”

Before Bucky could ask what you meant, you continued on.

“After the accident, things were hard. It was a major loss, and I wasn’t quite sure how to cope. I didn’t think my life could ever be normal again. But my rehab team were great and they’ve made such amazing advances in prosthetics that life was different but it was okay. I found a new normal, and I could live my life the way I wanted to for the most part. But other people when they met me couldn’t see that. It was like I was nothing more than my arm and my accident. So when Natasha recruited me and Tony offered me the holograft I took it.”

“A chance at normal.”

“Exactly. Fortunately, I’m not known for my metal arm so no one questioned it.”

You offered him a sympathetic smile, knowing he would likely never have the luxury of anonymity. Baseball caps and sunglasses weren’t as good of a disguise as some super soldiers might think.

“This is true. Do you hate it?” Bucky almost whispered and you froze.

The super soldier’s eyes darted to yours when you didn’t speak and your hands stilled.

“I did. For a long time. I’ve known a lot of friends who’ve lost limbs, lost lives, because of i.e.d.’s and landmines, so honestly I did my two tours expecting to not come home in one piece. The fact that it was a random accident in a low risk assignment, made me feel like I’d swum across an entire ocean just to drown in a wave pool. I hated that it made me feel weak. But over time, it became a part of my life. And after attending too many funerals my life was more than enough to be thankful for. And now, I get to use my arm to help people. So no, I don’t hate it. Not anymore.”

Bucky was quiet as he observed you, trying to sort out all of the new information. You returned your attention to his arm, carefully ferreting out the problem.

“Aha! Gotcha. Little piece of… there.”

You stripped out a bit of exposed wiring and tightened a bolt and eighth of an inch.

“That should do it,” you announced. “How does it feel?”

Bucky swung his arm in a wide circle and flexed his fingers.

“Much better. What was wrong?”

 “The shock fried on of the connections that translates the electrical impulses from your nerves. It made it hypersensitive.”

“Thank you, doll.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help.”

You returned the tools to his kit, taking your time to precisely arrange them so you could try to think of what to say next.

“How are your tactile sensations?” You asked when you sat down on the bed again.

“They feel okay, but I should probably test it to see. Make sure it works on precious things.”

“Got anything precious nearby?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky cautiously raised his hand toward you.

“May I?”

You nodded, holding your breath.

The silver hand continued its path to your cheek, cradling your face tenderly as you leaned into his touch.

“You are beautiful. And I have to thank you for being there in quiet ways when I wasn’t ready to ask for help.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you know how much we all care about you. I hope you know how much I care about you.”

“I do.”

Slowly pulling away from your cheek, you pouted until Bucky threaded his silver fingers through your rose gold ones as he lifted your right hand. Admiring the delicate craftsmanship and the way it caught the light, he gently turned it so he could press a kiss to your knuckles.

You gasped at the sensation. The holograft, much like a glove, dulled your sense of touch. The feeling of his lips against your hand was overwhelming.  

“This feels…” you breathed unable to find the words.

“Right,” Bucky supplied. “It feels right.”

You nodded, swiping at tears.

“Like it’s the way it’s meant to be. Your hand in mine,” you mused quietly.

Bucky’s answering smile was brilliant as he squeezed your fingers.

“That’s because it is.”

~~~~~~~~ The End 

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this. And @ashhys-lost-in-fanfics-again​ I hope that I did your request justice. Thank you again for the request, I loved writing. Will reblog with Tags 

#Bucky x Reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky x Reader Oneshot #Bucky Barnes Oneshot #Request Fic

[stratus-skye07]

Suga Craze [Two] | Suga

[Masterlist] [One]

The following morning, I got up to get my prescription filled. The lady told me it would take a few minutes so I walked next door to the convenient store. Having this sudden craving for sweets I grab a few chocolate bars. I head towards the cashier when I get sidetracked by one of the aisles.

It was the aisle that sold the condoms and lubricates which got me thinking about last night with Yoongi. Our sex life has increased since getting to spend more relaxing time together in Hawaii. I'm not sure if this is what people would call the honeymoon stage or not but I want us to be as happy as we are now in the future whether or not business gets in the way.

Going down the rows I stop in front of the pregnancy tests. My heart begins to swell when the thought of taking the test with Yoongi waiting with me.  That moment when the strip tells you the good news and the planning begins. One moment that will be years down the line.

I'm taken out of my thoughts when a hand grips my shoulder. I turn quickly to face the owner of the hand when all the blood drains from my body.

The tall figure smiles at me, "Hello Y/N, did you miss me?"

My knees begin to go stiff. I try to back away but end up losing the movement in my joints which causes me to fall back-first to the ground. With whatever strength I had I pulled myself away from the man who looks like Hyung-Sik or is but he can't be alive.

I back away into the legs of another person, "Young lady, are you okay?" I looked up at the elderly man that had just come out from the back room.

"That man," I look back, pointing at an empty aisle.

"What man?" He asks.

Once I got myself together I left the store, got my prescription, and went straight home. My dad is coming to visit today so I had to recollect myself. I had dinner to make for the three of us to talk. I decided to keep the incident to myself so as to not worry Yoongi. 

"Honey," Yoongi places his hand on my wrist, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just spacing out about something." I make up.

After clearing the table my dad and Yoongi continue to talk about business related things as I wash the dishes.

"Y/N, can you come join us for a moment?" My dad calls out to me.

I sat beside Yoongi, "Dad, you know I’m not interested in the mafia work."

He shakes his head, "No, no, this isn't about business. I wanted to talk to you two about your family situation."

Oh no. The last time it was a family situation was when he told me I was going to marry Yoongi. I can only imagine what this talk is going to be about. I hope it’s not a concubine situation.

He raises his arms towards us, "You two have really grown beautifully. You've protected each other and grown to love each other in this short amount of time. I think that it may be time to expand the family legacy."

Yoongi nearly chokes on the glass of wine he was drinking, "Expand? You mean having kids?" He asks for clarification.

I chuckle nervously, "Dad, I think it's a little early to be talking about babies."

"Nonsense, your mother and I had you as soon as we got married and we would’ve had more if she hadn’t passed away. Considering what you two have been through and things have settled down, I say there's no time then now to start trying for one."

Yoongi chuckles, "As grateful as we are for your complete support, Y/N and I would like to wait a little more before coming to that kind of decision because to be honest, I'd like to be a little greedy and keep Y/N to myself."

My dad chuckles, "I'm happy to hear that but don't make me wait too long, I am getting old. I hate to admit it but it’s true."

I walked with my dad down to his car while Yoongi excused himself to speak with RM in his office. I kept thinking about what happened earlier today that I had to know if what I was seeing was real or just my subconscious.

I turn to my dad, "Hey dad, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, sweetie." He looks at me with worried eyes.

"You've killed a lot of people over the years. Have you ever seen those faces haunt you?" It’s not exactly something I’d ever wanted to know from my dad but considering what’s been happening to me I have to be sure.

He sighs before gripping my shoulders, "Yes. I see those innocent and not so innocent lives I took every day. I killed to get to where I am now. I regret most of them especially after I had you and lost your mother, the realization of someone killing your loved one started to take a toll on me, but why the sudden question?"

"I don't want to worry Yoongi but I've been seeing Hyung-Sik. I'm starting to wonder if maybe the guilt of killing someone has gotten to me."

He shakes his head, "You didn't kill him."

"I know, but I was the reason for all this."

"Honey, you shouldn't feel that way since you killed to protect. The way I see it, if you hadn't killed Hyung-Sik someone else would've or worse, he would have killed you and Yoongi. You have nothing to feel guilty about." He reassures me with a kiss on the forehead.

“Call me paranoid but I’ve been having these feelings, like there’s a storm coming our way that we don’t know about yet.”

My dad nods, “I’ve been having it too. Don’t worry yourself too much. Yoongi will protect you and I’ll search around. If something comes up don’t be afraid to come by the house to talk to me.”

“Thanks dad.”

A little while after my dad left, I decided to blow off some steam in the training room with Jimin. The room was huge with mirrors up against one wall like a dance studio. It was a room where the Bangtan members train to keep in shape.

Jimin held the padded glove up as I threw punches in whatever direction he moved them in. Since saving Jimin from bleeding to death, he’s been almost like my personal bodyguard. He’s my second pair of eyes. I appreciate his loyalty.

“Whoa noona, your hits have gotten sharper.” He says with raised eyebrows.

I shrug, “Yeah, well I’ve never practiced like this before. I only knew how to fight just for the occasion that I had to defend myself, which was rarely needed.”

“Do you think you’ll need to again?” He asks hesitantly.

I stop swinging for a moment to take a breath, “I don’t know but it’s better to be safe than sorry. I almost got killed because I couldn’t keep up with Hyung-Sik.”

“Technically, you almost got killed because I shot you.” He says adding a hint of sarcasm.

I nod, “True, but you wouldn’t have had to shoot me if I’d taken him down sooner. Not that I’m complaining but sometimes I wonder if I’d done something differently Yoongi wouldn’t have gotten taken.”

“You can’t expect the unexpected. You did what you could and you faced it head on. Don’t think that any of this is your fault. It’s because of you that Suga is still alive.”

“Okay, you're right, enough talking.”

A part of our training sessions would be to spar. I know how to defend myself but since going to medical school I’ve felt that I lost some of the speed that I had when I practiced Jujitsu. I’d usually do it with Yoongi but he’s been pretty busy lately so I’ve been continuing my training with Jimin.

Jimin starts to throw punches at me, I manage to dodge every one. The last punch, I grab his arm to flip him over my shoulder in an attempt to put him in an armbar but he manages to counter by sliding out of the hold to pin me down.

“You’re getting slower, noona.” He teases.

I sarcastically chuckle. While he’s laughing, I quickly grab a handful of his shirt and lift my hips to reverse the positioning so that I’m pinning Jimin down.

“Is that slow enough for you?”

Suddenly, our attention is drawn towards the door where Yoongi is leaning against the door clapping his hands from the sight before him. 

I rise to my feet and help Jimin up as Yoongi enters the room, “Jimin, you’re dismissed.” He says with a stern tone.

Jimin had a look of hesitance to leave but I pat him on the shoulder, “Maybe next time you’ll get me, Jimin.”

He smiles at me before leaving the room.

I look back at Yoongi, “So you finally have some free time to train with me?”  I interlock my hands with his and pull his arms behind his back so that I’m hugging his waist.

Yoongi smirks before giving me a peck on the lips, “If you were going to train, you could’ve told me.”

“I know, but you’ve been busy with deals that I didn’t want to stop you from getting your work done.”

“So you decide to get your training in with Jimin?” I can sense the hint of jealousy peeking out of his words.

“I mean if you’re that upset about it then…” I quickly maneuver myself under his arm so that I’m able to put his arm behind his back, “…why don’t you make up for it?”

“Alright, but you asked for it.”

Yoongi manages to use his other arm free. He spins so that my head is now under his arm in a headlock. I can feel his hand trail down my back until he reaches my ass. He gives me a hard smack on the cheek.

“Ow,” I swipe his foot from under him.

I manage to get on top of him and throw my rounds of punches. He blocks them until he grabs my forearm and shifts his weight over so that he was now on top of me. I hold him tight in between my legs as he pins me down by my throat but doesn’t apply pressure.

He kisses my cheek then chuckles, “You’re slacking.” I simply smirk. 

I counter his hold by placing my hands on his face and shove him far enough to where he has to release the hold to push my hands away, giving me the chance to reach up and put him in a sleeper hold. With his strength, Yoongi lifted me up but I still managed to keep my hold. I’m beginning to feel his body slow down but he still holds me up.

Finally, he taps out.

I release the hold and drop down to my feet. Yoongi’s face was red from the lack of oxygen that he was getting. No doubt if he was a little more stubborn he wouldn’t have given in so soon.

“I gave you that one.” He says in between taking deep breaths.

I scoffed walking towards a bench where I had placed my water bottle, “I could beat your ass so bad that your great grandkids would feel the shame.”

There was a long silence before Yoongi started up the following conversation, “Do you ever think about it?” He asks.

I finish taking a sip of water, “What kicking your ass that bad?”

He ruffled his damp hair, “Having kids.”

The sudden question catches me off guard as I look him in the eyes through the reflection in the mirror, “Do you?”

Yoongi rises from his position to approach me from behind, “Yes.”

“Do you want to have kids?” I ask in a matter of curiosity.

“With you,” his arms wrap around me, “very much.”

“Then why did you tell dad that you wanted to wait?”

“You seemed very hesitant to say yes. I didn’t want your father to pressure you in any way. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be prepared to take care of you and our child.” He says kissing behind my ear.

My heart skips a beat at how emotional he sounds confessing his feelings of starting a family. We never talked about the idea. I assumed it was something that never interested him but deep down he truly wants it. It’s something I want just as much but also fear.

I turn to face him and wrap my hands around his neck to pull him down to kiss him. 

He smirks down at me with those familiar eyes, “Until then, we have plenty of time to practice.” Suddenly Yoongi’s body began to lean into mine until my back was pushed up against the mirror. 

I bite my bottom lip as Yoongi’s lips begin to travel down my jaw until he reaches the collar of my sports jacket. Slowly, he begins to pull the zipper down to reveal the sports bra I had been wearing. His fingertips tingled over my skin as he slid the jacket down my arms to hit the floor.

Yoongi continues to venture down my chest, leaving trails of kisses down my abdomen until he reaches the waistband of my yoga pants. His long fingers sliding in to pull them, along with my underwear, down my thighs.

I gasp, “Yoongi, what if someone walks in?”

“Then I’ll have to kill them.”

I use Yoongi’s shoulder to balance myself as I take my feet out of my pants. Yoongi’s hot breath was at my entrance but instead he began to kiss and lick both of my hip bones, leaving behind markings.

He goes back and forth until he finally comes to the part of my body that’s been craving for his mouth’s attention. 

His tongue stroked up my slit until he gave my clit it’s fair amount of attention. I bite my lip to suppress a moan. My hands run through his hair in a frantic way as his tongue causes my legs to shake.

“Yoongi,” I say his name in a pleading tone, “wouldn’t it better to continue this in the bedroom?” I barely get the sentence out.

Yoongi rises with a smirk on his face, “Why? We’ve already started. There’s no point in stopping while it’s getting hot.”

I chuckle,  “First the car and now the training room, are you trying to see how many places we can fuck or are you just horny at the wrong time?”

[Three]

#bts #bts suga #bts au #bts mafia au #bts suga au #bts suga mafia au #bts yoongi #bts yoongi au #bts yoongi mafia au #bts yoongi series #bts series #bts suga series #bts smut #bts suga smut #bts scenario #bts suga scenario #bts yoongi scenario #bts suga mafia scenario

[foxsimthings]

Beau West for @simvicii‘s Alex(ander) Goth!

Academic | Good - Bookworm - Jealous Young Adult | Nurse 

private dl if chosen

Beau West would always be a step behind his peers as a child. Born with a congenital heart condition that required surgery in his first month and a number of years on medications, back and forth to and from the family doctor and constantly under the watchful eye of his parents, his early years were far from normal. He wasn’t allowed out to play with his rambunctious older siblings for fear of him becoming hurt. He was the only child of four homeschooled until middle school. It felt, in some ways, like being trapped. Being locked inside like some fragile thing when all of it was so that he could live.

Not much living to be had within those four walls of his family home.

But as he became a preteen, his three brothers protective teenagers by then, his parents loosened their hold. He hadn’t needed a doctor’s appointment in years by then and he didn’t need medication to sure blood ran through him as it should. So for the first time, Beau was allowed to attend public school.

It was awful.

As nice as it seemed to go out and make friends with other kids, play outside, adventure and explore, Beau had gotten accustomed to life inside. He relied primarily on his books and video games for comfort and, truthfully, social situations without his brothers were just a bit too stressful. When one of them was there he felt safe and comfortable to relax and be himself, but without them all he could manage to do was linger in the corner thinking about Super Mario.

The one certainty in his life was that he’d go into medicine. Beau knew since his childhood of fitting toy blood pressure monitors on the family dog’s tail that he wanted to help people the way he’d been helped. He studied hard in high school and while he had the chance to make friends, his grades were always more important. Or maybe it just felt like it was too late to try. Like he’d missed his chance. Books, at least, would always be there for him.

Beau worked hard to get his grades up and keep them that way. He was punctual, organized - he knew which university he wanted to go to before high school had even begun, and now that he was getting to the home stretch, goals crystallizing before him, he wasn’t about to let anything stand in his way.

And then at last, it was there. And he realized that he would have to move away from home for the first time. He would be without his brothers for the first time. And finally he began to question his dream.

It took a while to warm up to the idea of a room mate, but before long Beau got the chance at a social life he’d wished for. His nursing friends were just as studious, but rationalized that if they could find time to hang, so could he. And Beau found he liked being with people. He enjoyed their company, the late night study sessions, the horror movie nights sprawled all over the floor with blankets and popcorn and wine. 

His time in university and nursing school gave him the confidence he’d missed his whole life. Now working his dream job at a hospital, it’s all starting to come together. It would just be nice to have someone to share it with.

TL;DR: 

born with a congenital heart defect, but he’s good now

homeschooled until middle school

big dork, loved his books and his video games

protected by his 3 older brothers

studious boy in high school, nose to the books to get into nursing school

blossomed after high school, for the most part

Personality:

Warm. Beau is a pretty caring guy, he’s ready with a hug and a smile if someone’s having a bad day and he genuinely cares how people are doing.

A little shy. Not as bad as he was, definitely, but Beau will never be a party animal. It takes him a minute to open up.

Ambitious. He’s happiest with a goal in place and will work his butt off to see that goal to a positive conclusion, no matter what it is.

Slightly married to the job. He cares about his friends and family a great deal, but his phone is always on and he has a hard time not thinking about work.

Jealous. Growing up watching everyone else have things he wasn’t allowed, Beau has a bit of a green streak in him. He does his best to work on it and his therapist is well aware of it, but sometimes it gets the better of him to this day.

Goofy. Though he’s not the quickest to open up, Beau has a goofball streak. When he’s trying to make a good impression he’s very polite and even, but with friends he trusts he loves a good laugh and that polite chuckle can turn into a raucous cackle in no time.

Fun Facts:

Loves slasher and monster movies, but psychological horror genuinely spooks him.

Taught himself to do the robot one summer in his room. Told no one.

Takes his coffee with milk, no sugar, but sometimes adds a bit of vanilla extract for some ~pizzazz~. 

Thinks cilantro tastes like hot ass.

His morning routine is the most important part of the day and one of the few things he’s slightly neurotic about. Listen, he’s a morning person.

Mild OCD presenting itself in a lot of handwashing. He can’t go from one activity to another without washing his hands. It wasn’t as bad, but got worse after his ex cheated on him.

Also taught himself to play the banjo and it is hands down his most annoying skill.

#alexgothbcentry #bc entry #simvicii #sims 4 #ts4 #did i mention i'm back on my bullshit #yo i can't stop #i love simvicii too much

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

The villain in your story - 4. Treason

Series Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Summary: Sure, I could be your loyal lapdog, your sweet little slut, you biggest fan. But I don’t want to be. Why should I be loyal, sweet, or supportive when I receive none of those things from you?

Pairing: Bucky x OC (Roxanne Amy)

‘Miss Amy,‘ he smiles when he sees that she’s stopped walking, ‘I have a favor to ask.‘ ‘I don’t do favors anymore,‘ she tells him and continues walking. He runs in front of her to block her way. Her eyes widen at the audacity of the kid. ‘I know, I know, but I need an internship for school and from what I heard you own a company in robotics focused on prostethics,‘ he rambles on and on, ‘and I am really good with robotics and it would be a great learning expe-‘ ‘Fine,‘ she sighs, ‘come around tomorrow at ten am. Ask for miss Amy, not Roxanne.‘

Roxanne really wanted to call in sick when Monday finally came. She had a rough time getting out of bed knowing that the chapter she closed isn’t fully gone. There’s still a bookmark there to flip it open whenever and that bookmark is called Peter Parker. Cheeky little son of a gun. She sits in her office, reviewing old documents and electronics that she remastered for Bucky’s arm in hopes of making their usual prostetics a little more advanced, even if people don’t have a large budget. It’s a lot of financial gymnastics to make that work. ‘Good morning miss Amy.‘ The door swings open without being knocked on. Roxanne almost jumps out of her skin as the overly enthusiastic Peter Parker walks into her office, schoolbag on his shoulder, and dressed way too casual for her company. Is that a science pun on his t-shirt? ‘Okay,‘ she huffs, pointing him towards the chairs in front of her desk and he takes a seat, ‘one, never ever walk in without knocking again. You’re going to give me a heart attack. Two, dress for the job you want, not the job you have.‘ ‘I’m a student,‘ Peter stutters. ‘And you dress like one,‘ she tells him, gesturing at his whole getup, ‘if you want to get an internship here, you have to look the part.‘ ‘Yes ma’am,‘ he repeats, looking a bit down. She smiles, knowing that he picked that up from Bucky. Damn, she misses him already. ‘At least you’re well mannered,‘ she tells him, ‘now, you were rambling last time so what do you want to learn here and how are you going to achieve those goals?‘ His eyes widen at the realization that she’s giving him a chance. ‘Oh, I want to get better at robotics,‘ he explains to her, ‘I’ve been working with them for a while now, but the work you’ve done for Bucky is incredibly impressive and I want to learn how to do that. And I hope you’ll teach me.‘ ‘I don’t do that work anymore,‘ she hums as she writes down a short summary of his words, ‘and the technology we use in our prostethics and other medical equipment is somewhat disappointing compared with Bucky’s arm. See, when I work on Bucky’s arm I know I don’t have a budget nor a deadline. When I work on medical equipment there is pressure to make something that performs well and consistently does so within as little time as possible, and it can’t cost too much so that everyone will be able to use it. Now how long do you have to intern for?‘ Peter looks a bit thrown off, out of his element, after she tells him the reality of things. ‘Two months?‘ ‘Just two,‘ she questions. Peter nods. ‘Okay, here’s the deal. You will work in assembly for a month and will switch department every week so you can see the different parts of it. Legs, arms, hands, etc. The month after, I will put you in the lab with my scientists and engineers.‘ ‘That sounds-‘ ‘I’m not done,‘ she speaks, ‘any work you invent yourself in that time will be patented under your name, mits we can work out an agreement so that we can still work with it and I will pay you 500 a month. I know it’s not much, but it’s what we always offer our interns.‘ ‘That honestly sounds great,‘ Peter says, looking in awe, ‘other companies that I went to told me they’ll own the patent if I invent anything.‘ She shows a small smile. ‘Well, I know what it’s like to have work stolen and though it would probably better for my company to patent everything for ourselves, I want to help the younger generation along,‘ she explains to him, ‘we already have an extensive list of patents that no one else can use, so all we ask is that we can use the invention against a decreased rate for the remainder of the company’s lifetime.‘

‘How was it?‘ Peter almost jumps out of his skin as he steps out of the elevator. It seems everyone decided to wait for him in the common room, but none of them really care. Peter hadn’t told anyone about asking Roxanne for an internship, but it seems they figured it out. ‘How did you-‘ ‘You can people walk to her building from the lab,‘ Bruce tells him, ‘did she give you the internship?‘ ‘She did and she’s even going to pay me,‘ Peter smiles excitedly and starts rambling about the work schedule, the teachers he’s going to get, and the patent arrangement. ‘Is she stupid,‘ Tony laughs, ‘giving people their patents when they work for her. Doesn’t she know that’ll stab her in the back?‘ Peter notices the venomous look Bucky and Bruce shoot at Tony who is too busy looking at his phone. To Peter’s surprise, even Steve and Natasha seem to be bothered at the statement. ‘So you meant nothing of what you said last week,‘ Bucky snaps at him, ‘you were just trying to safe your ass.‘  ‘Guys, come on, I’m sure he was just joking,‘ Peter tries to reason with the two, but it seems to piss them off more. ‘He isn’t, that’s the problem,‘ Bruce says calmly, getting up to make his leave, ‘Tony, I honestly expected better from you.‘ Bucky gets up as well and follows Bruce past Peter into the elevator. ‘Oh come on, I was just joking,‘ Tony says, trying to get them back but they’re gone. ‘That wasn’t fair Tony,‘ Natasha speaks softly and gets up as well. ‘I’m with Natasha on that one,‘ Steve says and follows her into the elevator with Bruce and Bucky. Finally, it’s just Peter and Tony. ‘I know I am not the person to say anything about it, but-‘ ‘So don’t,‘ Tony snaps. Peter swallows thickly, but stands his ground. ‘Honestly mister Stark, I have a lot of respect for you but I honestly hate seeing this. You’re pushing your team away and you can’t even see it,‘ Peter tells him, ‘I think you should try to make things right with miss Amy.‘ And Peter makes his leave as well, following the others into the elevator. He gets a pat on the shoulder from Steve as the doors close. ‘Good job kid.‘ ‘Thanks, but what do we do now?‘ Bucky holds up his phone and everyone reads his text. “Hey Roxanne, sorry to let you know on such a short notice but can we come over to your place for a little? We kind of walked out on Tony. - Bucky.“ It takes a few seconds, but a new message comes up. “Who is we?“ “All of us.“ “If you bring something to drink, I’ll order something to eat.“

The group stands in front of Roxanne’s apartment, hesitant to press the doorbell. Steve sighs deeply and lets his head hang in shame. ‘Even after all this, she still invites us into her home when we’re in trouble,‘ he grumbles, ‘I feel horrible.‘ ‘You should tell her that,‘ Bruce nods and presses the doorbell. The door swings open with force, slamming against the wall. Meanwhile, Roxanne is already walking back into the living room with her phone pressed to her ear. She turns around for a second when she notices no one is following her. ‘You all like pizza, right? It’s all I could think of.‘ They group nods in unison, looking at bit confused at the Roxanne they’re seeing. It’s like a blast from the past. Sweatpants, tank top, huge cardigan that used to belong to Steve, barefoot.  ‘Well don’t just stand there, come inside,‘ she tells the group and they finally walk in. She continues her phone conversation while the group files into the living room and stands around awkwardly. They watch Roxanne talk until she puts her phone away. ‘Did you bring drinks,‘ she asks like nothing’s different than it usually is. Bucky nods and follows her into the kitchen to put them away. ‘I’m sorry, but why are you okay with us now,‘ Natasha asks her, ‘because you’ve been giving me the silent treatment for weeks.‘ ‘I am not ok with any of you, at all,‘ Roxanne explains, ‘but I honestly can’t think of a more meaningful gesture than having all of you walk out on someone that wronged me. I feel like you respect me again and that means a lot to me. Though I shouldn’t have had to fight for it so hard because I was clearly right.‘ ‘That’s fair,‘ Natasha shrugs. ‘By the way, you’re paying for the pizzas,‘ Roxanne tells the group as she opens a cupboard with all kinds of different glasses, ‘what does everyone want to drink?‘

As the evening gets less awkward, the group talks more and more. Though she doesn’t like to admit it, Roxanne has a good time. After all, they used to be friends. For a little while it’s like the old days. Peter Parker and Bucky Barnes are fun additons to the mix, though she did also want to meet the Gods since she never got the chance to. She offered for them to stay over and most of them took her up on her offer. Everyone except Peter who had somewhere else to stay. With two couches, one extra mattress, and a king sized there’s a bit of a discussion of who sleeps where. Meanwhile, Roxanne just starts to clean the room. Eventually, Bucky gets fed up with the discussion too and tells them he doesn’t care. He’ll sleep wherever. He picks up a few glasses and takes them to the kitchen where Roxanne is loading the dishwasher. ‘You sure you’re alright with us staying the night,‘ he asks as he hands her the glasses. ‘Yeah, I’ll be fine,‘ she mumbles. He looks at her and she really doesn’t look that bothered. In fact, he hadn’t seen her as happy as he did tonight. She seemed happy to talk to these people again. ‘Our of curiosity,‘ he smiles, ‘who do you think’ll sleep where?‘ ‘Wel, Natasha is obviously either sleeping on the mattress or the big couch. She’s already sitting on the couch like she owns it while Bruce and Steve are sharing the other,‘ she starts, ‘Steve is a pushover, but so is Bruce. I think they’ll be discussing who sleeps where till the end of time if we let them and if Natasha decides she doesn’t want to sleep in the bed with me, then one of them will end up on the floor because you aren’t going to sleep on the floor.‘ She leans on the kitchen counter with her elbows, head leaning on her hands. Bucky can’t help but steal a quick glance at her body before planting his hands on the kitchen counter to get the same view. ‘I disagree.‘ She snorts out a laugh. ‘Well, what do you think?‘ ‘Steve is a soldier. He’s used to sleeping on the ground and he might even find it more comfortable sometimes. He’ll insist he sleeps on the floor no matter what happens. Bruce might be friendly, but he’s reluctant to say he’ll sleep on the floor because he really doesn’t want to yet he also doesn’t want Steve to sleep on the floor. And Natasha won’t sleep in bed with you because she has some kind of scheme in mind that involves me in your bed,‘ he explains to her. Her eyes widen. ‘I’m sorry, how did you pick up on that?‘ ‘She’s been saying I need to make a move on you all night,‘ he smiles a little. Roxanne has to admit she loves his smile. It’s charming. ‘Okay, then you’ll sleep in bed with me,‘ she chuckles, ‘problem solved.‘ She moves to go tell them, but Bucky grabs her wrist to pull her back. ‘How about we don’t tell them.‘ He has a mischievous grin on his lips which Roxanne finds very, very attractive. She smiles at him and intertwines their fingers on the hand he grabbed. She shows him to her bedroom. He awes over the view for a second before he can realize how personal this room is. There’s a reading nook and a floor to ceiling bookcase just like the one in the living room, only these books look much more read than the others. The bed is huge, but there are only signs that anyone slept on it on the right side, which is the side that is against the wall. There is a small dresser and two clothing racks that hang from the wall all very neatly organized. One seems to be business wear and the other is leisure. ‘Bathroom is through there. There are extra toothbrushes and clean towels in the top drawer underneath the sink,‘ she tells him, ‘I might have a clean shirt for you to sleep in. I wear very oversized shirts to sleep, so I should have one in your size.‘ She goes through the dresser and finds a shirt to her satisfaction. She hands him the shirt and sits down in her reading nook. He takes this as his que to use the bathroom. He isn’t quite certain why he feels nervous, well, actually, he does know why. He’s about to sleep in the same bed as a woman he finds very attractive and might be falling for.

#bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #james barnes #james barnes fanfic #james barnes fanfiction

[one-spidey-boii]

BUMMER SUMMER || peter parker; ch six

read ch five here

masterlist

an; heyo everyone. online schooling is kicking my ass, my cat doesn’t like me anymore, and i keep sleeping until 3pm. no worries tho, cause yesterday i got some starbursts. let me know what you think of this chapter! hearing your feedback is super encouraging :)

**italics indicate flashback**

warnings; mentions of battle wounds (i.e. blood/scars/etc), future smut, mature language, fluff, angst, both peter and oc are 18+!!

word count; 2.7k+

peter's pov

my blood runs cold as soon as the weight of edie's body falls into mine. her limbs are limp and heavy, making it awkward to keep her steady as i gather her in my arms. everything around me is buzzing. every noise is drowned out by the pounding in my ears, the drumming of my heart beat in my chest.

"oh- oh my god. edie." i rush out with a shaky breath as her eyes struggle to stay open, "look at me, please. please keep looking at me, okay? don't close your eyes." i plead.

she gazes up at me, more like through me, as her head lolls against my chest. i pull her into me and lift her off the ground. i try to control my breathing, knowing how i handle these next few minutes will mean more than anything i've ever done before.

edie's eyes wander around the hallway and i make my way to the medical room with bounding strides. she lets out an occasional whimper when i jostle her too much and my stomach drops every time.

when there, i flip the light switch on and take in the room around me. i've never needed to be here before, making me wish every wound i ever endured had landed me in here- just so i can take better care of the girl in my arms.

i move over to one of the two empty beds that resembles those you would find at a hospital and place her down softly. she stares up at the ceiling, her eyelids grow weaker and heavier as time passes. i bite my bottom lip and grab at my hair. i really don't know what i'm doing.

"my side, pete. 'm hurts." she whispers and rolls her head so that she's looking at me now.

i swallow my fear and put up a strong facade for her, "i know, e. just keep looking at me. can you do that?"

edie just barely nods her head and her eyes follow me as i gather the right supplies to address the source of the bleeding. my hands fumble around as i set everything on the cart next to her bed.

"e, im gonna have to take your suit off, okay? i have to get to your side to stop the bleeding." my voice can't help but shake as i mutter the words to her. she just stares back at me with misty eyes that hold no objections.

"m'kay, jus' press the button." edie instructs, her lips parting as her breaths become softer and weaker. with that, i search for the emblem on her wrist and press it lightly. her suit expands and hangs loosely around her frame. i hesitantly begin pulling it down her shoulders, letting out a sigh of relief when i see the dark purple bra covering her chest.

finally able to get a good look at her side, i try to hold back a gasp. along the length of her torso, a gash runs from just under her ribs on her back all the way to her hip bone in the front. no longer being compressed by the suit, the bleeding gushes faster.

i look over at the supplies i’ve gathered and realize none of it will be much help. this is so much worse than i originally thought. i finally move my eyes from the wound and scan the room once again. so many machines that i have no idea how to operate just stare back at me, taunting me as i stand here helpless.

a hand clasps around my own. edie stares up at me with pleading eyes, small whimpers leaving her lips. i hold back a sob as i squeeze her hand back and reach for my cell phone.

the phone rings three times before he picks up, i don't breath until then.

"hello?"

my words are caught in my throat. "uh, m-mr. stark, i need help. edie's hurt and she must have gotten stabbed or something and there's so much blood and i-i don't know what to do or—"

his voice cuts me off, remaining calm and stern, "are you putting pressure on the wound?"

i let go of edie's hand and grab the gauze from the cart, moving to follow orders. "y-yes, sir."

"peter, you need to go to the back right corner and in the first drawer is a device that looks like a pen. grab it and hold it over the wound. press the side button and let it do its thing." mr. stark explains everything to me slowly. i do as he says, grabbing the small device and removing the now bloodied gauze from edie's side.

as i click the side, a blue light emerges from the tip, analyzing the wound before a cluster of lasers move over the length of it. slowly but surely the horrific gash starts mending before my eyes. i grab edie's hand and squeeze. after a few seconds, i feel the gentle press of her fingers against mine.

"everything okay, kid? give me an update here." tony says into the phone i had put down to tend to my best friend.

"yes, mr. stark." i call out.

edie's eyes flutter to meet mine. they're glassy and wet, unshed tears sitting on the brim of her lower lids. i glance at the healing device, taking notice that it has turned off automatically after it finished its job. i shakily put it down and latch onto edie's hand with both of mine.

"hey. hey, there," i whisper to her. she smiles weakly and closes her eyes, finally letting a single tear slide down her flushed cheeks, "you're okay now, yeah? how do you feel?"

she just squeezes my hand one more time before her body releases all the tension it's holding and she falls unconscious.

"peter, what the hell happened?" i jump when mr. stark's voice sounds from the phone again. hesitantly, i move edie's hand to her side and cover her almost naked chest with the blanket draped at the foot of the bed.

i pick up the phone and take a deep breath before giving an answer.

"i-i don't know, sir."

-

edie's pov

i never realized how often i put myself in danger. when i go out into the city at night, the thought rarely crosses my mind. it was only when i was face to face with the possibility i wouldn't make it home that night, that's when i realized what wearing a suit really entails.

before i even open my eyes, i'm aware of how cold the air feels around me. it bites into my cheeks and the tip of my nose, making me wiggle it uncomfortably. i can tell i'm not alone too. i hear soft breathing come from a few feet away, the source is asleep from what i can tell. finally, i open my eyes.

my heart swells at the sight of peter sprawled out along the hospital bed next to mine. he lays on his stomach, one hand draping over the side of the bed as his other supports his head. i keep my eyes on his peaceful face- and suddenly i find myself fighting the urge to wrap my fingers around his and hold his hand. i lift my hand away from the side of the bed and i gasp at the pain that shoots from my ribs to my hip.

it's excruciating. my skin feels hot and the red flash of pain brings tears to my eyes. slowly, i move my hand to the blanket covering my torso and push it aside. i raise my head slowly to see a horrible looking scar stretched along my side. it's red and angry and makes me sick to my stomach. i fight to keep a sob from escaping my lips, but the sight of the wound makes it nearly impossible. i let out a whimper and the events of the night before replay in my head.

-

i stay close to the dark alleyways of the city. my lack of web-slinging and flying makes it difficult to remain discreet, but sticking to the alleyways where most of the crimes take place seems to work well for me. the streets become quiet after rush hour hits and the city is lacking its usual light atmosphere. i've been walking for a while and have yet to find anyone who needs help.

once one am rolls around, i stumble upon a younger couple arguing a few meters down the alley. the man is shouting and seems to tower over the girl. she's scared, that i can tell, but something about her seems tough and hard to crack. i hide behind the corner and bend down to wrap my fingers around the knife in my left boot, ready to make a move if necessary.

the man begins backing the girl up against the wall and making large gestures with his hands. he must've said something the girl didn't like because she takes her hand and brings it down across his face with a sharp crack. he stumble back, hand to his cheek. i tense when he looks back at the girl and growls at her like an animal.

as he raises his hand to hit her, i jump from around the building and sprint in their direction. i manage to grab hold of the man's fist before he brings it down to meet the girls' face. his head snaps in my direction and his attention is suddenly on me. i shoot a quick glance at the girl, pleading with my eyes for her to run.

"mind your business, lady." the man hisses through clenched teeth. i hold my ground, focusing on keeping his attention on me so the girl has a chance of getting away. "are you gonna say anything? or just stand there?" he continues. when i don't answer again, he lunges at me.

quickly dodging his attempt at an attack, i slash my knife along his forearm. he gasps and grabs at his now bleeding arm, holding it to his chest. i sneak one more glance at the girl and let out a sigh of relief to see she has fled the scene. the man makes another move and runs towards me. i grab his injured arm and spin him around to face the nearest wall. with all my strength, i push him against the bricks and hold him there while digging my fingers into his cut flesh.

"let's see how you like it, huh, tough guy?" i speak from behind him. he rests his forehead against the brick wall and begins to laugh. it’s a horrible sound. the noise is surprising and unsettling, but i do my best to remain present for the task at hand. i open my mouth to speak again, but all the comes out is a muffled yell as i feel something sharp tear into my side. my grip weakens and the man slides away as i crash forward into the wall.

it feels like someone has tried to sever my body into two pieces. the pain completely overtakes my senses and i no longer have any control. my glassy eyes move to see the man standing behind me, still clutching his arm. next to him is the girl from before, holding a gnarly looking hunting knife by her side. blood drips from the tip of it onto the concrete below. my blood.

the girl comes towards me and kneels next to me on the ground. i stare into her eyes with numb shock, so thrown off by her actions. she smiles at me. a wide, bright white smile that takes up half of her face. she grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me towards her.

"see what happens when you try to help people? maybe some people just don't need help from someone like you. go along, try getting back to your secret hideout with this, little girl." her words mean nothing as soon as she pushes me onto my back and delivers one heavy kick into my side, leaving me breathless as she and the man turn to walk away.

-

images keep flying through my head as i stare down at the scar. i can't look away. this thing is a part of me now and i can't bring myself to terms with it yet, not that i expect it to ever be easy. i slowly move back down until my head hits the pillow. i stretch one hand towards peter as the other one falls along the marred skin of my side. my fingers are just centimeters away from peters limp hand, i try to close the distance but fail as shots of fire emerge from my side.

hopeless and in pain, i finally let a wet sob leave my lips. i squeeze my eyes shut and let all the failure and defeat roll along with my tears. it's embarrassing. i take pride in myself for being a trained fighter both physically and mentally. yet, i had been so blindsided by the situation and it came back to get me, leaving me with a scar to remember it.

clammy fingers meet mine and squeeze tightly. i roll my head to the side and see peter kneeling next to the bed. his eyes are soft and tired. seeing his face makes me cry even harder with both relief and sadness. peter parker is here for me, holding my hand and rubbing the back of it with his thumb as i cry and cry and cry.

eventually, i have nothing left but empty sobs and quiet whimpers. peter has moved closer, his head resting atop of mine as he places soft kisses in my hair. it's intoxicating and warm and i want him to do it for hours on end, but i need to get myself together. as scared as i am right now, i know he is even more so.

"help me sit up, peter, please." i more demand than ask. he obliges and wraps one arm around my shoulders and the other continues to hold onto my hand. i bite my lip to hold in any sounds of protest as my body shutters and writhes against the unwanted movement.

"i need to call mr. stark and tell him what happened. you need to know too." i whisper.

"maybe you just need to rest a little while longer-" peter tries to say.

"no. just... please find my phone." i plead. with a hesitant nod, peter rummages around the floor and comes back up with my phone. he dials mr. stark's number and sets it on speaker.

as it rings, i look over at peter again. he’s sitting on the edge of the other bed, feet dangling a few inches from the floor. i take notice of the empty feeling in my hand. "peter, just listen as i tell mr. stark. i doubt i'll be able to tell it more than once."

the ringing stops and tony starks' voice booms through the speaker.

"edie? are you okay?"

i let out a breath of air i didn't know i was holding, "mr. stark. i-i'm okay." i say weaker than i want to.

"what the hell happened, wolfie?" he asks, almost in a whisper, his voice is laced with sadness and worry.

with that, i tell him. i explain every little detail as best i can. peter lets out a tiny gasp when i get to the part about being stabbed, which makes me glance in his direction. he won't meet my eyes.

mr. stark doesn't say a word until i'm finished.

"im sending happy over. no, yanno what? i'll come myself." my eyes widen at his words. i immediately want to protest, but he wouldn't have it.

"i'll be there in four hours." he says and ends the call. peter and i finally make eye contact. the tired look in his eyes is still there, now laced with sadness and something else. i can't let either of us be sad for much longer. that's not what i want at all.

conjuring up my best smile, i speak with a chipper voice that only cracks once, "well, parker, looks like the boss man is coming home. we better make this place look presentable."

|| taglist; @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @whycantileaveyou @lovewolfspirit

let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist. hope you enjoyed the chapter. :)fvgggggg

#shoutout to tom holland #tom holland #spiderman homecoming #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker smut #cherry #peter parker x oc #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #spiderman #original character #marvel #avengers #tony stark #iron man #one spidey boii’s masterlist #bummer summer #tom holland chaos walking #chaos walking #spiderman far from home #tom holland spiderman #peter parker #avengers endgame #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #tommo hollandy

[xxx-cat-xxx]

What We Lose in the Fire We Gain in the Flood

Summary: The universe is saved, Thanos is defeated, the Vanished are returned, and Tony has survived (though with severe radiation burns and one less arm). Everything should be good now - except that it isn’t.

While Tony embarks on a painful and frustrating recovery, he wrestles with the fear that he’s no longer capable of caring for his family. Meanwhile, Peter tries to find his place in a world that just doesn’t feel like his own anymore.

Words: 13.5k

Tags: Irondad, Spiderson, Ironfam, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-it (but it takes a while to get there), Emotional and Physical Whump, very faint mention of death ideation, Injuries, Vomiting, Everyone needs a Hug

A/N: For @aderymoonlight. Thank you for the prompt and for waiting half a year until it was finally ready. A million thanks to @whumphoarder for being the world’s best beta reader (seriously, I don’t know how I would have done this without you). Additional thanks to @sallyidss, @twentyghosts, and @newnewyorker93 for helping me with the tricky details. You are amazing!

Link to read on AO3

___________________________

Like the flame of a candle caught in the wind, the arc reactor in Tony’s chest flickers, resists, and then eventually dies down. And so does something within Peter. 

“Stay back!” Dr. Strange shouts. He draws a sparkling circle into the dusty air, encompassing Tony and Pepper before making them disappear right in front of Peter’s eyes.

And suddenly, Peter feels a wave of exhaustion crash over him. The world shimmers before him like it’s about to dissolve. He sinks to his knees, drawing in laboured breaths. It’s simply too much. Within one day, he went from a school bus, to another planet’s moon, to the battlefield where the fate of the world is being decided, and he feels as if some parts of him are still scattered throughout the universe. 

Peter thinks he might throw up (or possibly faint), and he figures that he should probably alert someone to that, but the only person he actually knows around here is Mr. Stark, who might be dead, and oh god- 

“Spider-Man?” It’s Colonel Rhodes, to whom Peter has spoken maybe twice in his life. But the man looks at him as if he’s known Peter for years, as if he’s relieved to see him alive, and as if he still isn’t sure whether Peter is actually back or just a dream. “Are you injured?”

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Peter stutters, and he honestly doesn’t. He tries to get to his feet, but the world starts to spin around him in a nauseating way, so he sinks back down onto his knees. He can taste bile at the back of his throat and instinctively presses a fist to his mouth.  

“Okay.” Rhodey gives him a quick once-over, apparently not liking what he sees. “Stay put. Now where’s that goddamn magician -”

Then Rhodey is gone and maybe a minute, or a year, or a century later, the world explodes into golden sparkles and Peter has the unnerving feeling of being crumbled up into small pieces and sucked through the hose of a vacuum cleaner before being spat out again. He lands on a very clean linoleum tiled floor, his stomach in his throat. 

He starts gagging for good then, and someone is shoving a kidney-shaped pink basin into his hands. Hospital, his brain registers while he heaves up the breakfast he ate years ago mixed with dust from another planet’s moon, all the while his heart pounding with worry for his mentor. He clings to the basin with all he has because something in him is still convinced that he might dissolve again at any moment. 

“Take it easy, kid.” Someone is patting him on the back, and all Peter can do is nod before he is throwing up again. “Be right back,” the someone says, but then nobody comes back for a long time. There’s all hell broken loose around Peter, doctors and nurses running hectically to and fro, wheeling patients around. He knows that he should probably help - he’s Spider-Man after all - but he isn’t sure whether he can stand up just now. 

It seems like years that he sits there, faintly wondering whether everyone has maybe just forgotten about him. He stops throwing up at some point, but still feels dizzy and his bones seem weirdly light, as if he might float away if he isn’t careful. 

Then, finally, there’s a voice he knows. “Kid? Kid, is that you?”

“Happy?” Peter glances up and there he is, older and heavier and with a child in his arms.

“Kid? Peter? Oh god.” He sets down the girl and then encases Peter in his arms, tightly, the second completely unexpected hug today. “It worked. Oh my god, it worked. Where’s Tony?” 

“I don’t know,” Peter croaks, and then, out of all the questions in his mind, he picks the most recent one. “Is that your kid?” 

“What? No, no. That’s Morgan. She’s all Tony’s.” The girl has started to cry, tugging at Happy’s coat with one hand while hiding from Peter behind the man’s knees. “Okay, let me get her to Pepper and you into a bed - you look about ready to pass out.”

Ten minutes later, Peter is lying in a hospital bed, his suit pulled down to his chest to reveal dozens of bruises, an IV in the crook of his elbow and a blood pressure cuff wrapped around his bicep, and all he can think is Mr. Stark has a daughter?

After a while, Happy comes back and shoves a phone into his hands. May is on the other side, breathing heavily. “Oh god, Peter, oh my god,” she chokes out. Peter tries to reply, but suddenly everything comes crashing over him and he’s sobbing, heaving, hyperventilating, until someone empties a syringe into his IV port that knocks him out. 

May is there when he wakes up. The sedative is dissolving quicker in his body than it would in a non-enhanced human, but it’s making him drowsy and slow and his limbs so heavy that it feels impossible to even move. 

“Hey darling,” May whispers, blinking tears away. May doesn’t cry very often, so this must be bad, he thinks woozily.

“I’m okay,” Peter slurs, despite having no idea whether that’s even true. And then, although sleep is pulling him under again, he simply has to ask, “Were you… here?” Because he has to know if she had to spend another five years in grief - has to know just how broken she is. 

“No, honey, I was gone. Reappeared in our living room in the middle of someone else’s family dinner, just to see that they finally painted the walls.”

“Okay,” he breathes, and then, his eyelids already closing, he murmurs, “How’s Mr. Stark?”

“He’ll live,” May says. She adds something else, but he’s gone already.

*

When Peter wakes up the next time, May asks him whether he’s okay with her joining the understaffed nurses in treating all the wounded. Besides those hurt during the battle, many were injured while Returning, snapped back to life in the middle of road crossings or deposited into thin air where there used to be five-storey buildings. May’s a doer - she hates to sit idle when she could help - so Peter agrees immediately. 

He’s got a bunch of broken ribs, a concussion, and a number of deep cuts, all of which are already starting to heal, but they let him stay the rest of the night because it’s not like he has anywhere else to go. The hospital is overcrowded, so they have to move him and that’s how Peter ends up in a bed next to Tony’s. There’s a thin curtain separating the patients from each other, but it isn’t pulled completely closed, so Peter is able to catch a glimpse of his mentor. 

Tony is hooked up to so many tubes and wires that he looks like a Cyborg. Despite knowing that these are the very machines that keep him alive, Peter suddenly has the irrational desire to tear them all off and free him, as if that would make him healthy again. 

He doesn’t, of course. Instead, Peter drifts a little, unable to really go back to sleep, and that’s how he witnesses Tony waking up for the first horrible time, before they put him in a coma for days. His mentor takes one painful, wheezing breath, and the only part of his face that isn’t covered by bandages shows raw panic. He makes a choking noise, gasping for air, and then cries out in a way that sounds barely human anymore. 

He might be dying, Peter thinks. What if he dies here and now and I can’t do anything to stop it? But then a doctor bursts into the room and minutes later Tony is out again. 

That’s the first time that Peter wonders how much it cost to bring him back.

*

Five days later, when Peter is long out of the hospital and the world is slowly starting to shift back into a state that once used to be called ‘normal’, when Tony finally stirs and his eyelids flutter open, Bruce expects a joke. A punchline. Triumph. A retroactive kick to Thanos’ ass.

But instead, Tony whispers, brokenly, “Please tell me it’s over.”

And then, to Bruce’s horror, he starts to cry.

*

The Parkers’ old apartment was rented out to new tenants during the five years they were gone. May takes one look at the family staying there, too many people for the three tiny rooms, and decides that she doesn’t have the heart to enforce her right of return. 

Instead, they now temporarily stay in an awfully luxurious home that Happy arranged for them through Pepper. Peter knows he should be grateful for not ending up homeless, but he’d have almost preferred to live in one of the shelters where the rest of the Returned are staying, just to make him feel a little less out of place. 

Everything is still settling - the bureaucracy’s gone crazy, and school won’t start for another month at least, which will likely result in severely shortened summer holidays - but May is already back to work. The hospitals are still overfilled and every person with medical knowledge is needed. Thus, Peter spends his time catching up with Ned and MJ and trying hard not to think too much about what happened. 

A few days after Tony has woken up, Happy texts Peter to let him know that he can visit. 

Happy picks him up with an electric car that opens with a fingerprint sensor - despite half of the world’s engineers being dusted, technology seems to have advanced quite a bit. He’s as grumpy as ever, but somehow in a softer way that makes it clear to Peter he doesn’t really mean it. He glances at Peter every few seconds through the rearview mirror as if he still can’t believe that the kid is back. Peter can’t blame him. He himself has a hard time digesting what all has happened, and more than once he’s woken up bathed in sweat from a nightmare of Titan. 

There are drawing books and a plush toy in the backseat of the car and Happy doesn’t say anything when Peter eats a chocolate muffin and the crumbs fall down onto the leather upholstery. It’s nice somehow, but also weird. Just another detail that makes Peter realise what all he’s missed. Happy is ‘Uncle Happy’ now.

Peter’s stomach is curling anxiously when they pull up to the hospital. He wants to see Tony, but something about the memory of him wheezing in the hospital bed is gnawing at him. He wonders how much Tony has changed in the five years that passed. He wonders what he’s going to say to him.

In the end, it turns out that his nervousness was in vain. Tony is fast asleep when he arrives at the hospital, knocked out cold by the combined force of painkillers and the effort of having been awake the whole morning. He doesn't flinch when Morgan scrambles over him in the hospital bed with her stuffed animals. The girl doesn't seem to be phased anymore by the tubes and wires sticking out of her dad, but Peter is careful not to touch anything, afraid that a single wrong move might worsen Tony's condition.

Tony looks a bit better than he did the day of the battle, but not much. His right arm is gone - nothing left there to be salvaged, they say. His face is still mostly covered in bandages that run down to his shoulder, but Peter can see that his right eye is continuously leaking tears from below a burnt eyelid.

“We'll let him know that you came by. He'll be glad,” Pepper promises, and Peter nods and thanks her but secretly he isn't so sure that Tony would be glad about being seen in this state by anyone. On the other hand, that was the Tony of five years ago, and the more Peter observes everyone around him, the more he realises that he knows practically nothing about this new Tony.

He asks Happy to drop him off at Ned’s and they spend the evening getting up-to-date on the state of the world’s computer games. For a few hours, he almost manages to pretend that everything is normal.

*

Recovery isn’t a straight road. 

Ten days after the battle, just when Tony is able to stay awake for more than a few hours at a time and the doctors are starting to reduce the meds that keep him high and loopy and generally incoherent, Tony’s stump arm gets infected. 

Pepper first notices the chills that run through him while he weakly plays with Morgan in the hospital bed. By evening, he is throwing up what little lunch they managed to make him eat and the next day his temperature is up to 103 degrees. The meds do nothing to keep away the fever dreams. Pepper finds herself at her husband’s bedside once again, squeezing his one remaining hand while he moans and shivers his way through the nightmares and pain. 

He has a seizure the night after that when his temperature hits 104. Then Tony’s heart gives out and for a few terrible hours Pepper is afraid that after all he’s gone through, this is how they’re going to lose him. She has Morgan in her lap on the waiting room bench outside while the medics are shocking the life back into him, not sure whether her child is holding onto her or the other way around.

*

Tony wakes up with a gasp. His memory is a blur of pain and surreal, screwed images of a world in which everyone he loves is dead. But that can’t be true because just next to him, his wife and daughter are sitting, very much alive, looking at him with obvious relief on their faces. 

“What appn’?” he croaks, trying to reach for Pepper with an arm that isn’t there. 

“Drama queen,” Pepper whispers, and he notices she’s crying. “I almost thought we were gonna lose you.”

“What, because I took a bath in gamma radiation?” he replies with a smirk. The words get stuck somewhere in the middle, but she understands anyway, smiling through the tears on her face.

Tony, it turns out, is stubborn as a mule. After they resuscitated him, the antibiotics finally showed some effect in fighting the infection. His fever breaks two days later. 

It’s the only time Pepper has cried since they left the battlefield. Rhodey talks the doctors into putting a second bed in the room and takes Morgan out to the playground for some distraction. Pepper makes it to the bed before collapsing, then sleeps for 14 hours straight. Tony, still feverish and weak, joins her for most of the time, but watches her whenever he wakes, wondering how he ever deserved someone like that. 

He remembers the battle with a mixture of horror, awe, and disbelief. They did it. They won, just like the kid said. Everyone is alive, has come back to life, except for Natasha, who definitely deserved better. But Tony knows that everyone in his team would have thought it worth to trade their own life for so many others’, the assassin included.

It should all be good, then.

But it isn’t. It won’t be for a long, long time.

*

“Tony, it’s okay, you’re okay, hey, just wake up -”

“Oh god,” he jerks awake with the leftovers of a scream on his lips, taking huge, desperate gulps in an attempt to suck in air. It was real - so fucking real.

“Breathe with me.” Bruce’s voice is impossibly calm and reassuring. Tony would call him out on not being that kind of doctor if only he could spare the breath to do so. His chest is hurting so much that he’s almost sure he’s dying for real this time. “In and out. Come on, Tony. Look at me.” 

Tony tries, tries so hard, and after a few minutes he’s gotten himself enough under control that the pain in his chest subsides and the air actually reaches his lungs. But with the oxygen comes the realisation, crystal-clear. It’s not over. It will never be over. Even after his death and defeat, after being killed not once, but twice, Thanos still has a firm grip on Tony’s mind. The disappointment hits so hard that it drives tears to his eyes. 

“It’s okay,” Bruce says. “You’re okay now. We’re all fine.”

“It’s not okay,” Tony croaks, defeated. “It’s not fair. It’s over, we won, this isn’t supposed to happen anymore -” 

Bruce gives him a sad smile. “PTSD doesn’t end when the threat goes away, Tony. That’s why it’s called post-traumatic.”

“I know,” Tony replies impatiently, remembering New York clearly enough, how he never really left space even after coming back to earth. “I just thought that now - now that we’ve brought them back - that it would make a difference.” 

But that’s it, the ultimate proof that it’s not Thanos who is responsible for how screwed up Tony’s mind is, but Tony himself. Defeating Thanos was not a magical solution to all of Tony’s problems the same way that Thanos’ plan was not a solution to any of the universe’s problems. 

He almost wants to cry. “Will this ever get better?” he asks, voice impossibly small. 

Bruce gives him a sad look. “I’d like to say that it will, but I don’t want to lie. You know, my father died almost thirty years ago, and there are still nights when I wake up and feel like he’s leaning over me, about to hit me with a belt.” 

Tony bites his lip upon that admission, feeling ashamed and angry all the same. Bruce is somehow dealing with his trauma - hell, everybody is. He shouldn’t be having so much trouble pulling himself together. 

“Don’t think that.”

“What?” Tony asks.

“I can see it on your face. Stop thinking that you’re being silly. You’re not. I know how much it screws with your mind.” Bruce’s voice is warm as he continues. His huge finger lightly brushes Tony’s hand. “We’re all here for you, you know that, right? And once you’ve recovered a bit more, maybe you could give therapy a chance.”

“Yeah,” Tony says, his voice lacking conviction. “Thanks, big guy.” 

He doesn’t want to go back to sleep, but the meds he is on don’t really leave him any choice. He sinks back onto the pillows. Minutes later, he is falling through a hole in the sky. Thanos is exactly where he left him.

*

When he was younger, Peter used to own a game in which he had to tilt a small wooden maze back and forth until the tiny metal balls contained in it rolled into the right divots. It’s a little how the world feels to him now. People are trying to find their place, struggling to fit in, but there are just too many metal balls and not even close to enough divots for everyone. 

Peter’s lucky. With May, Ned, and MJ all having been snapped, nobody close to him has moved on without him. This is what he tries to tell himself whenever he doesn’t recognise a reference to a movie, or when he realises that his juniors are suddenly a whole head taller than him, or when he mourns the loss of all his personal possessions. Ned is much worse off. Only half his family got snapped, and his mom moved on - and in - with a new boyfriend in the meantime. After Ned and his father Returned, his parents have been fighting without break until Ned temporarily moved to stay with one of his uncles. MJ categorically doesn’t talk about her family, but May’s heard rumours that MJ’s older brother left during the five years and still hasn’t been found. 

Peter’s lucky. That’s what he tells himself when he gasps awake from nightmares of Titan, of Tony’s deathly pale face in a heap of rubble, when he has to dig his nails into the back of his hands so hard that they draw blood just to convince himself that they won’t dissolve in front of his eyes. 

Instead of crime fighting, he goes out scouting. One night, he climbs a garbage heap near their former apartment and finally finds the old suitcase that holds Ben’s few remaining personal items. He cries a bit then, because it’s the middle of the night with no one to see the tears on his cheeks, and it’s all just a little too much. 

May doesn’t ask where he found the suitcase when he hands it to her during breakfast the next morning. She just brushes a finger over the dark rings under his eyes and hugs him tightly before making him the first cup of coffee he’s ever tasted. 

*

Tony’s spent a lot of time in his life ‘recovering’ from something or another. There was the heart surgery he underwent after getting his arc reactor removed, the terrifying weeks in the cave with Yinsen where painkillers were a rarity, blurry periods of rehab in his twenties that he can’t really remember, and the time after Siberia with a cracked sternum that he doesn’t want to. He’s used to dealing with a body that’s held together mostly by morphine and willpower. 

So when the doctors tell him that it will take a long time until he will be able to walk again, that blood pressure regulation will likely be an issue for the rest of his life, that the nervous system on his right side is fried, that he is lucky he didn’t lose more than an arm (and technically an ear, since he is almost deaf now on his right side), Tony doesn’t break. No legs for a while then. One ear, one arm. It’s not ideal, but he can work with that. 

Tony spends the next week with Pepper and Morgan, eagerly awaiting the day he will be allowed to go home. He is usually exhausted enough by lunch that he has to sleep for a few hours, which annoys him almost more than anything else. The fever keeps coming back in the evenings, but he ignores it the best he can and dials up the morphine enough to be able to think through the pain without getting drowsy. He bullies Rhodey into smuggling a tablet into his hospital room and clumsily starts to draw up schematics for a prosthetic arm with his left hand during the nights when he is alone. 

The kid visits one day. He looks tired and sort of nervous, but he is still absolutely alive (which Tony knew, of course, but there are only so many times you can see someone die in a nightmare before you start having doubts), so alive that Tony feels himself tearing up a little. 

Peter stops dead in his tracks when he enters the room, his eyes widening at the sight of Tony’s burnt and scarred face. The stump arm is only covered with a light bandage now and Tony’s sunken eyes and hollow cheeks betray the days spent in a feverish haze. Pepper said that the kid visited before, so he must have known what was coming, but Tony guesses that it’s still kind of a shock to realise the permanent nature of all the damage. He himself still avoids mirrors as much as possible.

Sensing that the situation has every potential to slip into the worst levels of awkward, Tony ploughs ahead. “Guess that’s it for the Playboy cover shoots then,” he jokes lightly.

For a moment, the kid looks baffled. Then the corners of his mouth lift and curl into a smile. “I think they would make an exception for the superhero of the year.” He steps fully into the room and carefully settles on the chair next to Tony’s bed before blurting out, “Mr. Stark, I’m so glad you’re not dead!”

*

Half an hour later, the two have pulled up the schematics for the prosthetic arm and Tony is explaining all the special features to the kid. Tony’s head is aching and the phantom pain is bad today - he knows he was due for more painkillers a while ago. But this is fun, this is what he’s been missing for five goddamn years, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed at all. 

The kid looks exhausted and Tony makes a mental note to check in with May as soon as he’s more able to make sure that there’s no lasting damage from their involuntary trip to space.

“You’re adding a soldering iron to your own prosthesis?” Peter asks, flabbergasted. 

Tony smirks. “Come on, you can’t tell me it’s not cool.”

“It is, but then add some more real-world practical things as well. Like a can opener.” 

Tony sputters. “Next Pepper will ask me to integrate a spice grinder for her cooking. And Morgan will want storage space for Alpaca food.”

“You have an alpaca?” Peter’s face screws up and Tony can practically see how he is trying to fit this new information into the mental image he has of his mentor. 

“It’s all the kid. Morgan has a very soft spot for animals. Even spiders.” He winks. “But she’s also into race cars and explosives, so don’t worry, I’m pretty sure she’s actually related to me.”

Peter chuckles and Tony is overwhelmed by the urge to take Peter to the lakehouse to meet Gerald and his daughter just as soon as he’s allowed to go home. 

“Fireworks,” Peter says eventually. “You should add fireworks to the arm.” 

Tony opens his mouth to protest, then closes it again and slowly makes a note on the sketch for the prototype, the letters a bit awkward from writing with his left hand.

“Speaking of special features, I’m gonna make you a suit with the newest tech and then you can go patrolling again,” Tony promises. “I know you can’t wait to get back to your secret identity. Just hold on a few more days before going out, okay?”

“Sure, of course,” Peter says with a nod, visibly happy that Tony has brought up the topic.  

Then the nurse comes in and coaxes Tony into taking his meds and drinking water, for which he has to sit up completely. It leaves him dizzy and a bit out of breath. He leans his head back against the headboard and holds onto the sheets with his hand, counting down from ten. When the black fades away, Peter is looking at him with a faraway and slightly sentimental expression on his face.

“Mr. Stark?” 

“Make it Tony, will you?” Tony says. “I think we’re past the formalities now.”

Peter swallows. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, Tony. I just...thank you for bringing me back. For saving us all.”

Tony waves his hand dismissively. “Eh, a few more times saving the world and I’ll get a free frozen yogurt.”

*

Happy comes to pick up the kid and drop a package off for Tony, who passes out as soon as they leave. When he wakes up in the late evening, the nurse informs him that Pepper and Morgan visited for a while but didn’t want to wake him up. 

After choking down a tasteless dinner (he really needs to make a hefty donation to the hospital so that they can upgrade the cafeteria) Tony shifts gingerly to the side of the bed and bends down to pick up the cardboard box from where Happy set it. It contains the two pieces of the first prototype for the arm he’s designed over the past week. 

It looks almost like a real arm, but he couldn’t resist adding some red and gold around the wrist and on the fingertips. The robotic prosthesis is based on musculoskeletal modelling, is neuro-adaptive, and, of course, powered by a tiny blue arc reactor set into the palm. Tony positions the upper part between his thighs, then takes the lower in his hand and sets out to connect the two pieces and -

It doesn’t fit. He tries again, thinking it was just his shakiness or a stubborn hinge somewhere, but no, it simply doesn’t fit. Upon closer inspection, the lower piece is about three millimeters wider than the upper one. It’s a small error, but enough to make it impossible to connect the pieces into a functioning prosthesis.

“FRIDAY,” Tony asks, trying to drone out the growing panic and the sound of his heart beating loud and fast in his ears. “There must have been an issue with the printer.”

“No, sir,'' the AI replies from the speakers of his phone on the bedside table. “It was printed exactly according to the specifications you entered.”

“Who made those measurements?” Tony asks, his breath quickening. He knows the answer. Of course he knows the answer. 

“You did, boss.”

And that’s when Tony breaks.

Of course, the past week he’s been in pain and on drugs and not exactly clear in his head, but he’s worked in much worse states before. High on cocaine and perpetually drunk throughout most of his thirties. In Afghanistan, with a car battery keeping his stuttering heart alive. God, he invented a new element while literally dying. He is Tony Fucking Stark. He doesn’t make mistakes. 

Except this time, he did.

*

The doctors say it will most likely not get worse, but they’re not sure whether it will ever get better. Tony’s brain, his essence, is most likely forever going to be damaged. 

He is still cleverer than the majority of the human population, so nobody seems to think much of it. Tony, on the other hand, can’t help but feel like his world has been shaken to its core. Physical impairment is bearable; he has worked with that before. But if he can’t trust his own mind, he’s useless. Worse, he’s a liability.

He nods politely at the doctor whose last sentences are already being swallowed by the rushing in his ears. Then there’s only silence and the long, deep breaths he takes to fight the tightness in his chest. 

“We’re gonna figure this out, Tony.” Pepper’s hand comes down on his shoulder. She looks at him as if she’s expecting a panic attack, and the funny thing is, he’s expecting one as well. But that’s the thing about anxiety; it’s anything but predictable. It rarely strikes when you expect it to. 

Tony swallows. He doesn’t trust his voice, so he just grabs her hand with his remaining one and squeezes tightly. He once tricked his own heart into functioning again, but this time, it’s the very source of his intelligence that’s bailing on him. He doesn’t admit it to Pepper, but the truth is, he has no idea how to figure this one out. 

*

They let him go a few days later. 

“Daddy is crying,” Morgan points out in a stage whisper when Pepper pulls into the garage at the lake house. 

“I’m not,” Tony corrects from where he is sitting next to her in the backseat. “My eye is a bit broken, just like when the tap was leaking in the kitchen, remember?” But his voice is suspiciously hoarse and through the rearview mirror Pepper can see him blinking rapidly. She can’t blame him - she’s feeling pretty sappy herself at bringing him home. For a while, neither of them were sure he’d ever see the lakehouse again. 

The short walk to the front door and into the living room is tedious. Tony is operating a crutch with his left arm, his stump shoulder supported by Pepper while Morgan is impatiently running ahead of them. By the time they settle down onto the living room couch, all colour has drained from Tony’s face. He is panting and sweating and generally looking about ready to keel over. 

“Let’s go and feed Gerald!” Morgan begs, climbing up onto her father’s lap and pulling at the chords of his sweater. “And then I’ll show you the tree house I built with Uncle Rhodey while you were at the hospital, and then we eat dinner, and then you have to read ‘If you give a mouse a cookie’ to me.”

“Sounds good, Morguna,” Tony replies in a slightly choked voice. He pulls her close to his chest and rests his chin lightly on her head, closing his eyes with a tired exhale. “Let me rest my legs for a bit, and then I’ll see what we can do, okay?”

And Pepper can see it, can spot on every inch of his face the frustration over how his body and his mind are betraying him battling with the gratitude for what he still has left. She can see his love for their daughter seeping from every pore of his body, but it is overshadowed by a fear that’s been in him for as long as she’s known him - a deep-sitting worry that he’s not good enough for any of the good things life gives to him. 

All she wants is to find a way to make him understand that he deserves every scrap of happiness they can find together. She’s told him, in the early morning hours when nightmares would bar both of them from sleep and they were too tired to keep up their usual snark and banter. But sometimes words are not enough to make someone believe they deserve better. 

She settles for bending over the two of them and pressing a long kiss to the top of each of their heads. Then she straightens up, puts on a smile and asks, “So, since it’s a special day, who’s up for cheeseburgers?”

*

It doesn’t really get easier. Something inside Tony seemed to have expected that things would miraculously improve once he was home, but of course they don’t. He’s still in a wheelchair most of the time. The physical therapist makes him stand up for longer and longer every day, which hurts like a bitch and regularly sends his blood pressure down to his ankles. Tony gets to see the living room from the perspective of the carpet more often than he ever wanted to. 

He sleeps a lot. Maybe it’s his age that makes this recovery more difficult than all the previous ones, or the fact that the gauntlet has deep-fried his brain circuitry, but he can’t stay awake for more than half a day. Tony, who has been dealing with insomnia for as long as he can remember, thought he knew how it felt to be tired. But this is a different kind of tiredness, one that seems to stem from an exhausted brain, not body. He hates all the lost hours, hates the fog in his mind when he stays up too long, hates the nightmares that sometimes morph into anxiety attacks. Though it is arguably more bearable now that he wakes up to Morgan next to him playing with her Lego sets rather than a beeping heart monitor and a sterile hospital room.

Tony doesn’t give up on tinkering immediately. He tries to work on his arm again soon after he returns, but this time he can’t remember the exact modifications he'd planned for the dimensions. He hasn’t written them down anywhere and starting again from scratch seems like accepting defeat. So he boxes the arm back up and moves on to Peter’s suit. 

He’s 3D-printed a new suit and is halfway through updating the safety systems when he notices the smell of smoke the same moment that FRIDAY starts sounding alarms. By the time the garage sprinklers have extinguished the flames, half of the suit’s fabric is black and charred, the central chest piece melted into the work table. It turns out that Tony configured the charger wrong, putting 2200 instead of 220 volts into it. The wires connecting it to the plug overheated and ignited the fabric.  

Tony knows what he should do. He knows that he should replace the wires, correct the charge load, finish the update, and print another model. 

But this time, he can’t. It was one failure too many. This time, Tony doesn’t start over. Instead, he keeps staring at the remains of the suit until the spider emblem seems to have burnt itself into his retinas, feeling dumb and useless and old.

*

Peter got his mentor back, except that he didn’t.

Not today, kid. 

He stares at the phone angrily, wondering why he’d ever expected anything else. It’s been the same reply in different variations all week, and he can’t pretend not to be bothered by it anymore. He knows that Tony is still recovering, but he’d said a few days before Peter’s new suit would be ready, and that had been two weeks ago. Many things might have changed in the five preceding years, but Peter can’t believe for the life of him that any version of Tony Stark would be able to resist the challenge of improving his tech.

Enough is enough, Peter decides as he pulls his very first suit out of the cardboard box that contains the few things he’s salvaged from the garbage dump. The empty days are starting to wear him down, and New York is going haywire with crime. With its population suddenly doubled, people are seeking out the houses where they used to live, fighting over homes, life partners, adoption papers, and much more. Peter knows he shouldn’t go out against Tony’s wishes, but then again, the Tony he used to know wouldn’t make him wait for weeks without a suit while sending him nondescript text messages that explain exactly nothing. 

Peter needs an aim, and New York needs her Spider-Man. 

He puts on the costume and looks at himself in the mirror. The old suit is a bit too short at the ankles and wrists, but it will serve its main purpose of concealing his identity. The one he was wearing during the battle got so damaged that it was practically useless even before they cut it off him at the hospital. And anyway, he wouldn’t want Tony to be alerted of his whereabouts.

Peter climbs out of the window and takes a moment to enjoy the wind on his face before swinging to the top of the opposite building. “Let’s go, Karen,” he declares, and then tries to ignore the ache of disappointment in his chest when he remembers why there is no reply. 

*

It was one of the better days, up until the point when Tony decided to run a bath for Morgan. 

Pepper is away for an SI event and Happy was looking after Morgan while Tony’s PT trainer tortured him during the afternoon. Afterwards, they settled in front of the TV, Tony swearing that he was fine and Happy could go home already, only to wake up two hours later to Happy stretched out on the sofa, glancing at him with a knowing smile while getting his fingernails painted green by Morgan.

His driver-turned-bodyguard-turned-forehead-of-security-turned babysitter left after dinner, and Tony practiced walking up and down the stairs for a while with Morgan cheering him on. It was almost like their evenings before, almost, if not for the nagging feeling in the back of Tony’s head that he’d be incapable of protecting her in case something happened. 

“I want the blue bubbles,” Morgan decides when he helps her settle into the bathtub. “And the subarins.” 

“Submarines,” Tony corrects with a smile. He pours the blue bath foam into the water and brings her the box with all her bath toys. 

“Did you take Gerald inside his house?” she asks with a serious frown between her brows. 

One evening the previous week, Tony forgot to take their alpaca back into the stable, cuing it to disturb their breakfast by shoving its face through the porch door in the morning and trying to eat Morgan’s cereal. Nothing bad came out of it, but it seems to have left a dent in his kid’s brain because she’s been asking Tony about it every night since then. 

“Let’s see. Did I bring Gerald inside, FRIDAY?” Tony addresses the wall. 

“Yes, boss,” FRIDAY replies. “However, the porch door is still open.”

“I’ll go and close it,” he says to Morgan. He playfully splashes a bit of water onto her face before pushing himself up with a groan, his back and legs making him very aware of the exercise he did today. His blood pressure isn’t really cooperating with the change in elevation and he has to brace himself against the wall inconspicuously to wait out the headrush before he can continue. 

Tony slowly makes it down the stairs, relieved when he finds the wheelchair where he left it downstairs. He rolls out onto the porch. The sun has just set on the lake, and there is something peaceful about the scene. The first stars are appearing, but not enough yet that he has to look away and find something to hold onto so as not to lose his grip on reality. 

Or that’s what Tony thinks. But when he blinks, the sky is suddenly pitch black and he is covered in goosebumps. Tony pinches himself and then glances at his stump arm to make sure this isn’t a flashback. 

“Shit,” he curses, rolling back into the house. “FRIDAY, how long was I out there?” 

“One hour and thirteen minutes, boss.” She seems to hesitate for a moment before adding, “Your vital signs did not indicate any stress, so I did not alert you.”

Tony curses again. He ditches the wheelchair and takes the stairs as fast as he can, black spots dancing in his field of vision. He almost staggers into the wall before shoving his shoulder into the bathroom door and- 

“Look, Daddy, my fingers are all wrinkly now!” 

Morgan is sitting in the now lukewarm water, surrounded by toys, presenting her hands to Tony with bright excitement on her face. He stops, his heartbeat thudding in his ears and sweat running down his temples, then slowly lets himself sink to the floor. 

“Daddy?” Morgan prompts, realising that something is off. “My fingers will be alright, won’t they?” 

Tony swallows hard. “Yeah, kiddo,” he replies tonelessly and forces a smile onto his face. “Your fingers will be just fine. Come on, let’s wash your hair and get you dried off.”

Tony manages to keep it together until he has settled Morgan in bed. He reads her her favourite book, his voice and arm shaking only the slightest bit. Morgan stares at him suspiciously, so he flicks her nose and tickles her until she is gasping for breath. He kisses her goodnight, closes the door, supports himself down the stairs to the master bedroom, and only then does he break. 

Tony hasn’t had a panic attack this bad since just after he came back from Titan, but the helpless feeling he has now is much the same as then. At that time, he was unable to save the universe, had let Peter die in his arms; now he’s letting down his family, unable to protect those he cares about. Or, even worse, he’s actively putting them in danger by zoning out for an hour.

It’s been years since Tony has thrown up from panicking. He tries to keep it down, but then the nausea gets so overwhelming that he has to scramble for the trash can near the door and heave and retch until all that comes up is burning stomach acid. 

Pepper finds him like this twenty minutes later - panting and shaking, still clutching the trash can to his chest. “Tony!” she yelps, then catches herself and lowers her voice. “What’s going on?”

He swallows heavily, searching for words. “I-I forgot Morgan in the bathroom. She, it must have been an hour, and I, I just- I can’t-”

“Shh, calm down. She’s okay, Tony, we’re all okay.” Pepper crouches down next to him and lets her hand rest on his. “Breathe with me, alright?”

He gulps down bile and air and tries to concentrate on sucking in oxygen. It takes a long time until his heart slows down a little. Pepper gently takes the bin away and then settles next to him, wraps an arm around his shoulders, and pulls him close. Tony feels himself go limp. He lets his head fall back against her collarbones, his body heavy with exhaustion and failure.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, huh?” she asks after a while, handing him a tissue that he tries to take with his right arm before remembering he can’t. 

“I’m nothing without my brain,” he replies, choked. “My brain, my mind - that’s who I am.”

“No, that’s not true. Who you are is this.” Pepper taps on the scar tissue on his chest, then lets her hand rest there, warm and reassuring. “And this is all that counts. I know it, and so does Morgan.”

And Tony would love to believe her, but he can't any more than he can use his right arm.

*

Peter is tired and school hasn’t even started yet.

He’s tired from not being able to sleep, from waking up to the ever-same nightmares in the early morning hours. Tired from having the same conversations over and over again, Oh, you got snapped? What about your aunt? Did you get your apartment back? Tell me, where did this bruise come from? He’s even tired of Ned’s and MJ’s subtle concerned looks and May’s not-so-subtle suggestions that he let his secret identity rest for a bit. He’s tired from looking at his phone and wondering whether there’s ever going to be an answer to the texts he keeps sending.

He’s not tired of Spider-Manning, but the crime rates are skyrocketing. Often times, nightly patrols stretch well into the next morning, and despite feeling like he is finally able to do something useful, it starts to wear him out after a while, making him reckless and more prone to mistakes than usual. 

A week after he resumes patrolling, a robber breaks his finger and he spends the night shuffling back and forth between the freezer and his bed, replacing the ice again and again. A woman who Returned to find her husband living with a new wife wreaks havoc at their house and hits Peter with a baseball bat when he tries to stop her, giving him a concussion that forces him to bunk over at Ned’s for May not to realise. She does anyway, and lectures him about being more careful while dosing out painkillers into his palm the morning after. Another night, May has to stitch up a slash wound he got from a man trying to blackmail an employee of the insurance company not to revoke his life insurance money. 

Then, after a more peaceful patrol when he is already on his way home, Peter finds an elderly woman with dementia trying to enter her old apartment in which a new couple is living now. The woman introduces herself as Mrs. Jackson and offers Peter jellybeans from an ancient-looking package in her handbag, which he politely declines. Peter manages to talk to the two men before they call the police, then tracks down the woman’s daughter and drops the lady off at her new address. He declines the money the daughter tries to give him, but accepts the chocolate bar, munching on it as he one-handedly swings his way back home. The sun is just setting and he watches it go down from one of his favourite viewpoint on top of the Daily Bugle building.

“That was a good day,” he says to himself. Still looking towards the river, he shoots a web over his shoulder to the building he knows is on the other side of the street and lets himself fall backward. 

The problem is, Mrs. Jackson is not the only one who sometimes forgets that the city is not what it used to be five years ago. The building on the other side of the street has been demolished. Peter’s web sticks to nothing. He realises this a split second too late. Frantically, he shoots another web into thin air in an attempt to save himself, but it’s fruitless. 

While falling, Peter thinks that the integrated parachute in the Iron Spider suit would be really useful just about right now, and that’s when his body crashes into a streetlight. Pain flares up in his stomach. It feels as if he’s being ripped apart from the inside, and that’s the last thing he knows.

*

The first time he wakes up, everything is blurry and moving in slow-motion. May is there, holding his hand, and he is in much less pain than he remembered. Peter blinks a bit and tries to feel for the boundaries of his body, but he seems to have become one with the hospital bed. He closes his eyes again. 

The second time, he’s much more lucid. A worried-looking Happy is sitting at his bedside and explains in a forcibly slow voice that May has “finally” gone to sleep and Tony is on his way to the private hospital they took him to. Peter nods, which seems to set in motion a chain reaction in his body, because ten seconds later he is retching bile into a basin Happy hastily shoved under his chin. 

They had to remove his spleen, Peter learns later, when his stomach has calmed down a little and he is sipping Sprite through a straw. From what he can gather, he wasn’t in any mortal danger, but that is mostly due to the fact that his spider powers took the brunt of it. 

The cup grows heavy in his hand while the nurse is explaining this, and then Happy takes it from his fingers with an unusually kind gesture, briefly brushing his hand through Peter’s curls before he nudges Peter’s head onto the pillow. “Get some more rest,” he says, and Peter obliges, woozy and relieved that Happy isn’t angry. 

Tony, as it turns out, is. 

Peter wakes up when he hears the tap, tap of the crutch on the tiles. He is thrown back to the walking cane of his fifth grade math teacher until he hears Tony’s voice ask someone “Is he awake?”. Then his mentor opens the door to the hospital room.

Tony looks better than the last time, but somehow simultaneously worse. His burn injuries are healed - the scars still stand out, though slightly less angrily than Peter remembers. But he’s lost weight, the circles under his eyes are larger than ever, and his usually meticulously shaven beard has become an unkempt mixture of grey and black. All in all, he has the air of someone who isn’t taking care of himself.

“You look kind of bad,” Peter starts, and maybe this isn’t exactly a polite thing to say, but his brain is still a bit messy and a part of him is simply pissed at his mentor.

“You are one to talk, boy-without-a-spleen,” Tony rebutts, the sarcasm sharp, his usual playfulness lacking completely. “So that’s what I get for snapping your ass back and asking you not to play superhero for a while.”

Peter stays silent now and bites his lip. They’ve been here before and there is really nothing new to say about it. He isn’t even scared now - just weary. He feels centuries older than that time he stood at the edge of the city and Tony took his suit away. 

“So we’re doing the not-talking thing now?” Tony asks, almost casually. He sits down heavily on the chair that Happy left abandoned, and it doesn’t escape Peter’s notice that a sheen of sweat has already formed on his forehead from the strain it seems to have taken him to come here. “Because, trust me, I’ve got four decades more experience playing that game than you.”

“That’s not it,” Peter protests. “It’s not like I want to go against you, but what was I supposed to do? Sit at home while all this crime is going on in my city and do nothing about it?” He takes a breath, his cheeks burning from anger and embarrassment. “Nobody even hurt me, okay? This just happened because I messed up.”

“Is that supposed to reassure me?” Tony demands. “Because it’s literally doing the exact opposite. Fuck, kid - do you realise that this is exactly why I asked you not to go out? You need to get used to the city again, get settled in your new life. I asked you to wait. I wanted to keep you safe -”

“But I don’t want to be safe!” Peter interrupts, exasperated. “Nobody needs a safe Spider-Man! If you’d wanted that, you’d never have taken me to Germany!” 

That’s a low blow - Peter can see it. Tony’s tired eyes widen a bit and he takes a deep breath before continuing in a forcibly calm voice, “I was there in Germany with you. I knew what we were dealing with. I was looking after you, something you don’t seem to be capable of doing on your own.” 

“I get hurt sometimes, so what?” Peter asks bitterly. “All the Avengers do. You did - you nearly died. So why is it a problem if it’s me? If you think I’m not good enough at what I’m doing, just say it. Because I don’t know what you even see in me.”

Tony sighs and runs his hand through his thinning hair. “What I see is potential, kid,” he says, softer than before. “So much potential. But you would need someone to steer you in the right direction, to make sure you don’t die before you make it through college. And that someone can't be me.” 

“Because you have your family, I get it.” Peter tries not to sound too bitter, not to let the nagging, ugly feeling of jealousy take over. 

“No, Peter - no that's not -” Tony cuts himself off, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Damnit, kid!” he snaps. “Why do you have to make this so hard?”

There's tears burning in Peters eyes because it's not him who's making it hard, it's his life that won't ever give him a damn thing for free, ever let him keep something beautiful.

“Kid. Look at me,” Tony urges him. “I care about you, a lot, okay? I can't watch you get hurt, not after…” Tony trails off, swallows, looks away. “I realise that I can’t keep you away from patrolling. It was dumb of me to even try, and I won’t do it again. But I can’t  - I won’t be involved in this anymore.”

It’s like someone has punched Peter in the gut. He would have been fine with Tony banning him from patrolling or talking May into giving him house arrest. He expected that, almost. That would have easily been worth the crimes he prevented over the last week. But this - this hurts somewhere else, somewhere deeper than his pride and his childish desire to be taken seriously. 

Everything he thought was there between Tony and him seems to have dissolved to dust on Titan.

Tony takes out his sunglasses and puts them on, not bothered by the fact that it’s still before sunrise. “You know that bird guy you webbed to the floor during our little tussle in Germany? Calls himself Falcon. I’m not a fan, but I think it might be good for you to meet up with him sometime, practice superheroing. He’s got…” Tony takes a deep breath, his voice shaking a little now. He suddenly looks so, so old. “He’s got Cap’s shield now, I’ve heard. I’ll ask Happy to send him your number.” 

He doesn’t want me. I’m a burden. 

Any reply burning in Peter’s throat is gone. When he looks up, he thinks he glimpses tears in Tony's good eye, behind the dark glasses. 

Peter’s own eyes are stinging. He swallows. “Okay, Mr. Stark,” he says tonelessly. 

His legs feel numb when he pushes himself up. There’s a heavy feeling of nausea in his stomach that has nothing to do with his injury. “I’ll go and take a shower,” he adds without looking up at the older man.

“Will you be okay on your own?” Tony asks.

Peter doesn’t even know whether this is about the shower or something bigger. He tries not to care too much. “Yeah. It’s fine.” 

He doesn’t look back before shutting the door. 

*

“It’s fine,” Peter told Tony.

But it isn’t. Nothing is fine. 

Peter gets out of the hospital the next day, and that same evening, he’s back on the streets. Happy sends him Falcon’s number, and apparently, even sent Falcon Peter’s because he receives a constant thread of texts asking for a meeting. Peter ignores them; the last thing he needs is another person promising to look after him only to quit halfway through. Or, maybe, he thinks when he barely escapes a mugger’s bullet the weekend following, maybe that’s not entirely true. But he doesn’t want one anymore. Spider-Man can just as well work alone. 

Happy keeps calling him, but Peter doesn’t answer his calls either. Thinking of Happy makes him think of toys in the backseat and a small girl with Tony’s eyes, and he doesn’t want to remember that because then jealousy boils up, hot and sour in his stomach. He feels infinitely stupid for ever thinking that there could be more between Tony and him than their superhero relationship, for thinking that he was anything more to Tony than Spider-Man. 

“I see potential,” he keeps hearing when he tosses and turns at night in his bed, and yeah, that’s all he ever was to Tony, apparently. 

School starts again and they finally move into their own apartment, almost an hour away from their old one. And maybe, just maybe, Peter should have been more careful in a neighbourhood he doesn’t know yet. Maybe he should have read the news and followed his suspects for a while before starting to fight. But every time he webs up a criminal, every time he hears a thank you from someone he saved, it feels like he’s proving Tony wrong. 

So Peter keeps doing it, studying by day, fighting crime in the evenings, and sometimes he is so exhausted that he actually manages to sleep through the rest of the night without any dreams. He’s tired, and he’s reckless, and he’s doing the exact opposite of what Tony has asked him to. But that’s just one more reason not to pick up Happy’s calls. 

*

Tony doesn’t hear Rhodey approaching from the right with his bad ear, so by the time he realises that his friend has found him, it’s already too late to escape. 

Rhodey cuts straight to the point. “When Pep told me she couldn’t find you, I thought you’d have escaped to the workshop or be out flying around with the suit. But this worries me almost more.” 

Tony looks up from the box he’s been bent over at an awkward angle from the side of his wheelchair, packing screwdrivers and bolts. It’s a wheelchair day, of course, as were all the days in the past week. And the one before that, as Pepper kindly pointed out this morning. 

“Why?” Tony retorts. “Didn’t you all tell me it was a good choice to retire?”

“Retire from being Iron Man, yeah. But Tony Stark not tinkering? What the fuck is going on?”

“Nothing left to tinker with,” he says simply. “And I’ve got more time for Morgan this way.”

“Tony, I’m not buying it,” Rhodey says with a huff. “Just because you got some memory problems? I mean, there’s gotta be an easy way around that. You can programme FRIDAY to remind you of everything important, you can- ”

“I know,” Tony cuts him off. He’s done that, of course - first thing after the bathing incident. He doesn’t leave the house anymore without an earpiece connected to FRIDAY’s server, and has programmed her to alert him of the tiniest things he might forget. But it doesn’t help. He can’t explain the feeling of inadequacy, of constant fear that he’s missed something important, something vital, something that is going to put everyone he loves in danger. He can’t trust his brain, and thus, he can’t trust himself with anything he’ll build.

“What about your arm?” Rhodey asks. “I thought you were making a prosthesis.”

“Not a big loss,” Tony says with a shrug. “One is more than enough for cooking and reading bedtime stories.”

“And the spider kid’s suit?” 

Tony stiffens and sticks his chin out slightly. “What about it?”

“I’m not dumb, Tony. The reason we pulled off the whole time heist in the first place was because the only way you could get over your survivor’s guilt was to either bring the kid back or die trying.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Tony scowls.

“Yeah, and now?” Rhodey demands. “You’re just gonna let him get killed by a random thug on the street because he doesn’t have a proper suit?”

“It’s not -” Tony breaks off, inhaling sharply. “I’ve got him monitored, okay? And he’s supposed to get in touch with Cap’s feathery friend. I just - I can’t do this mentoring thing - not anymore. It’s just not feasible.”

“And why would that be? Wouldn’t it be better if you were looking after him as best you can instead of completely shutting yourself off? Wouldn’t it be better if-”

Tony cuts him off, “Maybe it would have been better if I’d just died during the snap.”

There’s a sudden silence. Rhodey’s eyes keep holding Tony’s steadily while he slowly shakes his head, but Tony can see the sadness contained in them. He already regrets that he said it out loud, his stupid mouth running ahead of him and spilling out what nobody was supposed to ever hear, but it’s too late now, always too late. 

“Nobody wants that, Tony. And I don’t think you do either.” Rhodey swallows, then goes on in a softer tone. “You think you’re useless like this, but you’re not. Not to anyone. You’re way too absorbed in mourning what you lost to understand what all we gained.”

“I am seeing what I gained,” Tony insists, sounding almost desperate in his own ears. “I’ve got my family. This is what counts, not the tech I build. I am okay, Rhodes - stop giving me that kicked puppy look. I am fine.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey snorts, turning around to leave. “Convince yourself of that first.”

*

The warehouse is huge, filled with alien tech that definitely shouldn’t be being loaded into a stolen Joey’s Pizza van. There’s only two of them moving the product, and that should have probably made Peter think a bit more before jumping down from the ceiling with a “Boo!” and webbing the two men’s hands to the pillars. The tech they’re stealing is emitting a constant low-pitched hum and that’s messing with Peter’s senses, which probably should have been yet another reason to wait before he engaged. 

But it’s been four nights and 20 hours of sleep in total, and the paparazzi published a picture of Morgan Stark’s first day of school today, showing a worn-out looking Tony with sunglasses waving to her out of the open car window. The headline read “Shocking Revelation: Iron Man Too Weak to Walk His Daughter to the Classroom Door?!” 

Flash showed Peter the magazine with a raised eyebrow, casually commenting, “Guess that’s it for your Stark internship, huh?” Peter flipped him off, but the rest of the day he just felt empty.

“Resistance is futile!” Peter shouts at the criminals while webbing their feet to the pillars for good measure. Then he fumbles for his phone in the suit pocket in order to call the police, and that’s when his whole body explodes into pain. It feels as if every single one of his cells is individually being hit with a baseball bat. His knees give out under him, and while falling, he can see the sardonic smile of a woman with a taser stepping out of the shadows. 

“I’ve never liked spiders,” she announces. Then Peter’s head hits the floor with a thud and he blacks out gratefully. 

*

“Boss.” 

“Boss.”

“Boss.”

“What?” Tony jerks awake at his work desk, his heart hammering up into his throat. “What - What did I miss, Fri? What did I do?”

“You did nothing wrong, boss. But I thought you might want to be informed that Peter Parker hasn’t returned from his nightly patrol. He is four hours past his usual curfew.”

“The kid? What? Where is he?” 

“I cannot say this for sure, but security footage saw him entering a warehouse in Brooklyn at 9pm. A Joey’s Pizza van left from there an hour later, which has now reached the following location.” She displays a map with a highlighted area in the upstate region. “This warehouse is not an official Joey’s Pizza property.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Tony mutters. “Are there any security cameras inside the building?”

“Negative, boss. However, I can locate Mr. Parker’s smartphone in a two-mile radius of the warehouse. It makes sense to assume that he is being held inside.”

“Is he injured?” 

“I can’t tell from the data I have. It seems that Mr. Parker is not currently using any of the suits you made for him.”

Of course he isn’t. Tony feels a surge of self-hatred rising in his chest, together with the all-too-familiar guilt. He should have known Peter wouldn’t play it safe. He should have checked on him much earlier. There’s a whole laundry list of shoulds and woulds for him to deal with later, but right now, he doesn’t have time for that. He needs to get Peter out of there. 

“FRIDAY, inform Rhodey. Get him there ASAP.”

“Doing so as we speak, sir. However, Colonel Rhodes is currently in New Jersey and will take approximately 40 minutes to reach the location.”

“Shit,” Tony mutters. “What about Falcon?” 

“Mr. Wilson is on a visit to Wakanda.”

Tony curses under his breath. He scours the map again, then racks his brain for anyone else he might call. But, honestly, who is he kidding? The decision has already been made. 

“Boss-” FRIDAY begins when he pushes himself out of the wheelchair and reaches for his crutch, breathing through the headrush that comes with standing up too quickly. 

“Save it, FRI. I need a suit.”

The AI directs him to the cabinet where he stores his nano housing units. The Mark 85 would have been a better choice, but he hasn’t even tried locating it since coming home after the battle. For all he knows, its pieces are still lying somewhere on the field of rubble that used to be the Avengers Compound. 

The armour envelopes him with a feeling that is both familiar and strange, like coming back to a childhood home. It also hurts. The suit is doing most of the work for him, but the sheer strain of being upright without a crutch is a lot, and the extra weight on his legs and back is enough to have him panting by the time he staggers to the garage exit.

“Fuck,” he breathes when his vision clouds up from the effort. “This is not working.”

“Sir, Colonel Rhodes is already on his way. I advise you to wait -”

“Stop it.” Tony takes a deep breath to drown out the rising panic. “FRIDAY, is there any morphine around?” 

“That is not a wise idea, boss.”

“Come on, we’re running out of time!” 

The AI silently lights up a path through the cardboard boxes littering the ground to a medicine cabinet on the other end of the garage. Tony finds the morphine and injects himself with a dose as high as he dares without his mind getting fuzzy. He needs to think clearly now. 

The relief is instantaneous. The pain is still there, but it’s muted enough that he can walk out of the house and take off relatively steadily.

*

It takes Tony less than ten minutes to reach the old warehouse. By the time he touches down, he is severely lightheaded, but the adrenaline and morphine are holding him together just enough that he doesn’t fall over. He makes a quick detour to the back of the building and then blasts himself through the front door (“Here’s my plan: attack”) because time is a sensitive factor, and frankly, he doesn’t have any better ideas. 

He takes the first guy out before the man even has time to react. The second one jumps behind the van that is parked in the middle of the large hall and starts to shoot at Tony with something that is emitting blue energy sparks and is definitely not legal. Tony takes cover behind a pillar (while definitely not leaning against it) and breathes for a moment, surveilling the scene. 

Peter is being held in the back of the warehouse. They put him in a cage - a fucking cage with enhanced security that Tony constructed years ago when they were fighting alien wolves in Central Park, and this fact alone makes his insides burn with rage. The kid is apparently unconscious, chained to the bars with handcuffs way above his head, which appear to be the only thing currently holding him upright. There’s blood on his face that seems to stem from a wound on his head where he must have been beaten, but it’s dried. FRIDAY informs him that the kid is breathing, thank god. 

The guy with the electric gun is situated between Tony and the kid, so he’s gotta deal with him first. “FRIDAY, I want a big boom in twenty seconds,” he instructs. 

“Timer set, boss,” the AI replies into his good ear. 

Tony steps out from his shelter into plain view, ignoring the exhaustion weighing him down. He fires a series of blasts that tear through the walls of the van, causing the vehicle to skid towards the right side of the building. He can hear a curse and then the sound of hasty footsteps as the man runs towards the backdoor, trying not to be crushed by the vehicle, and that’s exactly where Tony wants him to be. 

“Hey, asshole!” he shouts. “Come out of your rabbit hole and show your face!”

The man cocks his electric gun. “Iron Man, what a surprise. The papers say you’ve retired? Shouldn’t you -”

Tony never gets to know what it is he should be doing, because that’s when the bomb he planted outside the back door blows up with a satisfactory boom. The man is blown off his feet just as he shoots a blast of light blue energy at Tony, flying a dozen feet through the air. Tony doesn’t hear the thud when he hits the ground because he’s too busy getting out of the line of fire. He almost succeeds, but it’s not enough. The blast catches him at the side, sending him stumbling blindly back into the pillar. 

“Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark, please! Can you hear me? Tony!”

Tony isn’t sure at first whether he is actually hearing the kid’s voice or it’s just a memory conjured by his hazy mind. His good ear is ringing, the other one gone completely deaf. There are sparks of white dancing in his field of vision and the suit is pretty much the only thing holding him upright now. He turns slowly, staggering on the spot, and yes, the kid is awake, thank god, though he is barely holding himself upright. 

Through the haze, Tony can see that Peter is signalling something to him, frantically nodding his head at something behind Tony. “What?” Tony shouts, his own voice sounding weirdly far away. 

“-one more,” he can make out, and then it clicks. Tony raises his gun-arm and spins around, just as the woman crashes into him full force. The impact is more than enough to make him lose his balance completely. He hears shots while they tumble to the ground, feels something hit his helmet, his vision blacking out completely. He fires blindly, repeatedly sending out electroshocks until the body on top of him goes limb. 

Then Tony breathes, in, out, pain coursing through his body like acid, his head throbbing as if it’s being hit with a hammer. He can’t really feel his right leg, but the pain in the rest of his body is more than making up for it. It’s not as bad as the snap - nothing ever was as bad as the snap, that was a million on a scale of one to ten - but it’s enough to let him know that any movement in the coming few minutes will most likely result in him passing out. 

So Tony listens to his own breaths until he is sure he’ll stay awake. Then he turns, slowly, and rolls over onto his side until the woman’s body slides off him. He opens his eyes. His HUD is obscured with blood, so he opens that as well and finally gets to look at the kid.

Peter is crying, the tears that are running from his eyes slowly mixing with the blood on his cheeks. The moment his gaze meets Tony’s, relief blooms on his face. “You’re alive,” he breathes. 

“Yeah,” Tony croaks. He isn’t sure whether his voice is loud enough to travel to the kid, so he says it again, convincing himself. “Yeah, I’m alive. And so are you, kid.”

“Can you -” Peter takes a hitching breath, almost a sob, “Can you get me out, please?” His hands wriggle in the handcuffs. It must be painful, because his expression turns into a grimace and he stops again.

“Yeah,” Tony reassures, then adds, “Just hold on. You’re fine, kid, you’re okay,” because Peter has started to cry again and looks seconds away from a breakdown now. 

Tony pushes himself up on his arm. He gets one leg under him, then the next, and kneels there on the floor in his own blood. That’s as far as he gets before his strength leaves him and he slumps back, barely managing to stabilise himself. The world spins around him as if he’s on a fucking merry-go-around, the dizziness so overwhelming that he’s afraid he might throw up. Peter calls his name, and Tony tries again to get up - tries, and tries, and tries - but there’s a rushing in his ears that makes it clear this is a battle he isn’t going to win. 

“Sir? Tony, please?” Peter sounds panicked.

And that’s what it comes down to. Tony, on his knees, mere metres away from the kid who is calling out for him, yet unable to reach him. He just isn’t strong enough. And this is it, this is the hard and cold reality, the true reason why he kept away from Peter for so long. Because when it truly counts, he is bound to fail him. 

“I, I can’t get up.” Tony’s voice breaks when he finally admits it out loud, “I can’t, kid. I’m sorry.” It feels like he is saying so much more than that, and he wants to tell him, wants to explain how fucking much it hurts to fail him, once all across the universe and now again, and it seems like he can feel the dust coating his fingers once more. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, his cheeks feeling damp. “I am so, so sorry, Peter.”

“It’s - it’s okay,” Peter mumbles through sobs, but Tony knows it is not. 

And this is how Rhodey finds them when he storms into the warehouse fifteen minutes later. Tony must have closed his eyes at some point in time, because it takes him a bit to react when his friend shakes his shoulder. 

“Tony, thank god,” Rhodey says when Tony blinks up at him, the look on his face somewhere between relief and anger. “Why the fuck didn’t you wait for me?” 

“You know why,” is all Tony says. “How’s the kid-” 

“Oh god, Mr. Stark, Tony, are you alright?” Peter is walking towards him with an emergency blanket draped around his shoulders. He’s sort of unsteady on his feet and fresh tears are springing from his eyes when he kneels down next to Tony. “You, you sort of faded out, and I was so scared and I couldn’t get out of that cage and then I was thinking of the battlefield again, and -”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Tony didn’t think he’d have the strength to move and get out of the armour, but the sobbing kid in front of him gives him new energy. “FRIDAY, open up,” he murmurs. The nanobots retract and form a shield behind his back. Tony is grateful because he isn’t sure whether he’d be able to sit upright under his own power. 

“Come ’ere, kid,” he says softly. Peter gives him a doubtful look, so Tony opens his arm and pulls him towards him. The kid leans his head against Tony’s chest, crying harder now, tears soaking Tony’s shirt.

“You’re okay,” Tony murmurs, just like he would when Morgan would come to him in the middle of the night, scared of monsters. “You’re okay, kid.”

“I f’cked up,” Peter sniffles. “I, I should have listened to you, I’m sorry- ”

“No,” Tony says firmly. “No kid, you didn’t. I fucked up. I fucked this up epically.”

“You saved the whole universe,” Peter protests through his sniffling. “You brought me back from the dead! And then you retired, but you still came here and saved me when I needed you.”

“But I couldn’t save you all the way,” Tony says quietly. He takes a deep breath, feeling his heart beat hard and fast in his chest. Time to be honest.

“Listen, kid. The snap messed up my brain.” He holds up a hand when Peter starts to protest. “No, I mean, quite literally. It doesn’t work as well as before. I...I forget things. I make mistakes - silly mistakes, dangerous mistakes. I didn’t...I didn’t think I could take care of you anymore. And tonight proved me right. But it wasn’t your fault, and I should have made that clear to you. I’m sorry, Peter, I should have told you.”

It feels weird to admit it to the boy what he hasn’t really been able to even acknowledge himself. Saying it out loud gives it an air of finality. 

This should be the end, then. Giving up comes almost as a relief. 

But then Peter gazes up at him with a look as if Tony had just said something incredibly stupid. “But I don’t want anyone else,” the kid sniffs. “I only want you as my mentor. I don’t care if your brain works or not. You just saved me, you came all the way here, and you - just, please, don’t go away again, okay?”

And sometimes the universe has weird ways of letting you heal. Sometimes it takes months of falling before you hit the ground, hard. And sometimes you need to feel the impact, really feel it, before you can start to pick yourself up again. 

Tony looks at the kid in his arms, and he makes a decision.

“Okay,” he whispers. He pulls Peter closer and holds him through the weakness and the pain that encompass them both. “I promise.”

*

“Again! Do it again!” Morgan giggles.

Peter looks over at Tony, who raises his arm high into the air and gives him a nod, then Peter taps the instructions into the Starkpad. There’s a quiet pop sound from the bionic arm and a moment later sparkling fireworks erupt from it into the night sky, the red and gold reflecting magnificently on the surface of the lake. Morgan cheers and claps, and Peter feels a smile spread over his face. 

“Again! Again!” the little girl demands, jumping up and down impatiently.

“Enough for today. Daddy’s tired, Morgan,” Pepper says firmly.

“But-” 

Pepper gives her a stern look. “Why don’t we go inside and ask Uncle Happy to read you a story?”

“Okayyyyy,” Morgan pouts.

Peter turns his head towards his mentor. Tony does look exhausted and kind of in pain - Peter knows that the prosthesis hurts him whenever he wears it for too long - but there’s a warm shine to his working eye that Peter hasn’t seen before. He looks… at peace, in a way. 

They make to follow Pepper and Morgan back to the house, Tony a little unsteady on his feet. “You okay?” Peter asks quietly so as not to alert Morgan, offering an arm to his mentor.

“Yeah,” Tony reassures, but then, after a moment of hesitation, he takes the arm and leans a bit of weight onto it. “What about you, kid?”

And Peter has to think for a bit, wondering about where his life could have gone and what it has actually turned out to be. He thinks of the battle and the nightmares and the hours in the cage and of Tony on his knees, unable to reach him. 

Then he watches the last sparkles sink into the lake, followed by a loud “ohhhhh” from Morgan, and turns back to his mentor.

“Yeah,” he replies firmly, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

__________

All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33  @yepokokfine

@badthingshappenbingo - This is my prompt fill for the square “Cry into Chest”.

#irondad #spiderson #whump #hurt tony stark #hurt peter parker #fix-it #endgame #morgan stark #pepper potts #bruce banner #rhodey #vomiting #recovery #angst #emotional hurt/comfort #physical hurt/comfort #ironfam #this is the longest thing I've ever written and I am kind of proud

[wolfsrainrules]

I just watched a music video for "I'm Still Here" from Treasure Planet, and hurt myself by imagining the Midoriyas in the role of people walked out on. I needed to share this pain, thank you for being here.

AHHHHHHH I LOVE this movie and music!!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE if you haven’t seen this movie WATCH THIS MOVIE. @north-peach @hey-hamlet @secret-engima LINK to song AND THAT IDEA HURTS ME. 

......

I LOVE IT. 

HERE HAVE A THING

 Most days, Izuku didn’t really....stay home. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his mother, that he didn’t love his home, but...well. 

They struggled. Ever since that asshole scumbag had walked out on them both, when Izuku was younger, and Izuku knew it. He knew his mom had to work harder than most in this quadrant had to. That the only reason they still lived in this quadrant was due to already having paid off their home.

Izuku did what he could, working around the area, under the table jobs and whatever he could get away with, going out into the scrapyards, building machines and trinkets to help at home or sell off for money.

So he wasn’t usually home, unless he was helping his mother with maintenance or the bakery deliveries, out and about earning money to bring home.

He’d met...quite a few strange beings in the process, living so close to a large space port, with so many alien species or ‘quirked humans’ from interbreeding with those species.

And Izuku was fascinated, utterly and completely smitten with the different beings and their abilities, and what made them so different. If he could do it, Izuku knows with a certainty down to his bones that he’d join up with one of the ships that sailed the verse, and try to get his certification for healing by apprenticing under the ship’s doctor. He’d never be able to afford schooling, but if he could convince the doctor to apprentice him...

But well...it was a dream.

He refused to abandon his mother like his father had abandoned them.

Instead he would keep wandering the port, taking what jobs he could, and helping where he could, earning favors and good standing with the people who lived in the area.

LINEBREAK

Dabi cursed under his breath, rushing from his ship under Commander Aizawa, and absolutely furious that he had to leave the ship at all.

His little brother was on that ship, bleeding and in need of the help only Dabi- Touya- could give him, but didn’t have the supplies left to do so. 

If he could have, he would have sent others to get what he needed, but in order to have medical supplies rushed to the ship, a certified healer with a license had to be present.

Dabi had to be there, to get the supplies he needed to save his family. 

He rushed into the shop he usually restocked at while at this port, and up to the counter. They knew him, and wouldn’t have to spend forever verifying his credentials, and would respond promptly.

Two teens were at the counter- pink skin, golden horns- Dabi recognized Mina from multiple trips, the daughter of the man who ran the shop, and a green haired boy that Dabi had seen all over the place on his various trips.

He ignored the boy for the moment, crashing up to the counter and listing out what he needed as quickly as he could to the young woman who would know who he was and not question him. 

Mina reacted immediately, rushing to grab what he needed, but to his surprise the green haired boy was right beside Mina, grabbing what he asked for and helping load up the supplies.

As soon as it was loaded up, he told Mina to charge it to The Alliance’s account, and grabbed the first box. Before he could figure out how to bring the second box with him, the green haired boy is hauling it up, and a step behind him.

Dabi doesn’t question it, just snapping a quick “Keep Up.” before he runs.

The boy doesn’t hesitate, and keeps right on his heels.

LINEBREAK

Izuku had recognized the code the man had given Mina as an emergency healer code- memorized for the various jobs he had done around the city, and when the girl hadn’t hesitated to start grabbing what he needed, Izuku had followed suit. 

He hadn’t hesitated to follow him either, holding the second box of supplies and ready to assist however he could. 

Izuku may not have been ready to go off and apprentice for his dream job, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t taken whatever jobs he could relating to it. 

So when they approached the ship this doctor had come from- large, and hornet’s nest of activity at the moment- Izuku stays on his heels. 

They get to the infirmary, and Izuku sets his box next to where the man had placed his own, and then turned to scrub up next to him.

“I’m not a professional or an apprentice, but I know enough to help.” 

Dabi eyes him harshly for a moment, hard blue eyes looking into his soul, before he begins briefing him on what they would be walking into, even as he strips into new sanitized scrubs, Izuku right beside him.

When they step in to the operating room, Izuku takes it all in at a glance. He knows immediately that Dabi had taken his help because no one in the room looked to have any sort of training at all. There may have been someone who could help in the array of people already sprawled in the recovery bunks, blocked in on all sides in case of accidents in space, but they were unconscious and thus not an option.

Still, Izuku breathes deeply, and steps up beside Dabi anyway, taking in their patient, and the supplies they had brought in with them. He can see this is going to be difficult and time consuming, but he doesn’t hesitate, providing information and tools as Dabi asks for it, and sometimes before he even needs to ask.

LINEBREAK

When it’s all over, and the boy- Todoroki Shouto, Izuku learns- is sewn up, the compounds on the spike they had operated on and removed from his side and arm preventing them from healing it the quicker way, Izuku finally slips out of the focused mindset he had allowed to take over.

He breathes.

Beside him, Dabi had collapsed backwards, the gloves he had been wearing at his feet, bloodstained and forgotten, as he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“...are you okay, sir?”

Izuku almost doesn’t want to interrupt, but the man looks close to tears.

He looks up and those icy blue eyes have warmed considerably, the relief plain to Izuku. 

“Call me Dabi, kid. I’m alright. That was my youngest brother, and if I could live the rest of my life without having to pull Hew’efe spikes out of his body, that would be great.” his eyes close and he heaves though a deep breath, before reopening. “...what’s your name kid?”

“Midoriya Izuku.”

The next time Dabi looks at him, his eyes are considering and impressed “That was excellent work, especially for someone with no Master Healer to teach them, and under pressure.”

Izuku turns beet read, staring down at his feet immediately. “Thank you sir.”

Dabi scans him head to foot, makes a low considering noise, and then asks “Would you be open to an Apprenticeship?”

BONUS FACTS:

--Inko is invited along as a Sous Chef during the conversation Dabi has with her getting permission for Izuku to apprentice

--Aizawa- Captain of the ship- falls in love with her crepes and coffee and is ALL FOR this

--Izuku could break down and cry when he finally gets to go live his dream, learning under Dabi, with his mother there with him

--The first time the ship is attacked while Dabi and Izuku are operating on a crewmate, and the enemy breaks into the infirmary, Izuku shows himself to be a BAD ASS protective Medic of Death despite his Soft Demeanor

---Aizawa’s ship usually works as a transporter of goods, expensive RARE goods, which means they are a target of bandits and looters....a lot. 

Aizawa’s crew consists of:Mic, Shinsou, Kirishima, Katsuki, Dabi, Shouto, Midnight and Denki- and now Izuku and Inko.  With various ‘fill ins’ that usually trade off from port to port. 

Toshinori is a regular, but due to health reasons can’t stay on board in space for long periods of time. He writes about the adventures of Aizawa’s crew and shit (The Alliance) though, and is rather well known. 

Izuku is a huge fan and loses his entire mind when he realizes his fav stories are BASED ON THE PEOPLE HES WORKING WITH.

#Bnha #Bnha AU #Space Ship AU #Treasure Planet inspired #Bnha and Treasure planet #crossover fun of a sort

[sweetdejun]

medical!au x nct 127

I was reading a post about a doctor!doyoung and was inspired to do this... if nct 127 were workers in the medical field, I think..

taeil would be a pediatrician. he seems like he would be very good with kids, and I could see him distracting a patient with like funny voices and shit while he gives them a shot. when occasionally, a child is being fussy, he proceeds to sing to them, and that distracts the kid to a whole other dimension (as it does for the most of us lmao). he also seems like he’d end the day by giving his patients those big ass stickers. the kids love him, because he’s not scary, the parents love him because he’s amazing with their kids and he loves his job as a pediatrician.

honestly, taeyong gives off dietician vibes. yeah, I see him coming into the office, telling his patients like, “it’s true, an apple a day really does keep the doctor away,”. when he calls his patient into his office, he has like a food scale and measuring cups and shit and he’d show his patients like comparisons of how much the average person eats versus how much the average person is supposed to eat, and he uses sugar cubes to measure grams of sugar in front of his patients and he just LOVES the look of astonishment on their faces when the realization dawns on them.

it’s fitting to see yuta as a dentist, because in all my visits to the dentist, they’ve always had a shining smile, which is exactly what yuta’s patients see as soon as they walk in. he understands that some people are afraid of the dentist, so to ease their nerves, he tries to make them as comfortable as he can. this includes him cracking jokes, singing, but most of the time, he’s usually telling stories about his crackhead friends and how in college, they’d draw dicks on his face when he was asleep, or embarrassing stories of his assistants (who don’t mind because it’s yuta, c’mon). 

I think johnny would be a obstetrician-gynecologist. I say this because he just feels like the doctor who’d say reassuring things during important things like ultrasounds for pregnant women, or just women who come by to get check ups. again, the patients he sees, especially those coming to him for the first time or after a long time, are coming in super nervous. so he finds ways to calm their nerves: maybe by talking about what books he’s reading currently or a little “segment” he has called “johnny’s fashion evaluation” and the patients really seem to enjoy his comforting persona. perhaps that’s why he’s usually the most requested doctor in the department.

doyoung as an otolaryngologist is something I feel like we’ve all known indirectly. I think I would see him taking that career, if he wasn’t a singer, tbh. like when patients come and sit, and they tell him about a pain in their throats, he’s able to deduce the symptoms down to two or three diagnoses, and once he takes a peek in their throats, he’s got it all figured out. the same goes for the nose and the ears. the patients are always so shocked, wondering how he figures it out right away, and doyoung is filled with joy as he tells them it’s his privilege, and loves his job. and he’s honest every time he says it, because he really does love his job and it’s unconventional, but it’s him.

but yoooo.... jaehyun as a neurologist... can you imagine him analyzing brain scans, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and twirling a pen between his fingers in his hand? wow. no but seriously it’s his passion to understand how all sorts of things can have an impact, large or small, on the human brain. he’s worked with big people, which has given him opportunities of recognition and he’s spoken at medical schools (and he gave a ted talk that had assloads of comments talking about how hot he is ok i’ll stop). he doesn’t really know what else he sees himself doing, if he wasn’t a neurologist.

it almost felt instinctual for me to see winwin as a pharmacist, because that’s the kind of job that requires a lot of knowledge and patience which I firmly believe winwin has. he just has this constant curiosity of knowing what medicine cures what, or at least lowers the symptoms for a certain illness. he’s so interested in them he’s learned all and every detail about what his pharmacy sells, and he can even eyeball the right dosage without having to use a scale (of course he still uses one just to be sure) and that always leaves his coworkers so dumbfounded. the job fills him with a sense of pride, that he’s confident he doesn’t wanna ever let go of.

maybe it’s because he’s such a fragile-looking squish, but I see jungwoo as an anesthesiologist. that is a stressful ass job and trust me, jungwoo definitely knows that. but it’s just one of those things, you know how some people work really well under pressure? yeah, that’s what it is for jungwoo. he performs his best under stressful conditions and when he knew he wanted to do something in the medical field, he knew that this was the job for him. he doesn’t have to worry about being the person that operates, and all he does is make sure to maintain the correct amount of anesthetics based on whatever’s happening in the surgery.

mark matches being a physical therapist the best to me. I’m pretty sure mark would be the kind of physical therapist that’s like buddy-buddy with his younger patients, like the teens. he’s always making tik tok references and always does his ‘let’s get it’. they think he’s pretty cool, and they all only ask for him. he’s just that good, too, like he doesn’t want to let the patient go until they’ve shown a sign of improvement. he keeps track of all his patients, and remembers all their details each time they come for their appointments. once they’ve completely healed, he also provides his patients with prevention tips, and always urges them to stop by and say hi. and they do; after all, he helped them do what they love again.

last but certainly not least, I see haechan as a surgeon. I know that sounds like some crazy shit, but I have always felt that he’s very meticulous about certain things, and he’s very precise. not only that, he’s always been very interested in the human body, and how if something’s wrong on the inside, how can it be fixed? haechan always loves seeing the expression on people’s faces when he meets them for the first time, and he tells them what he does. when he asks why, they say, “you just seem so young, and you don’t seem like someone who would enjoy the job.” but it’s very much the opposite. he loves what he does, and the fact that he’s also helping people? what other job can offer him the same, if not more, satisfaction? he has yet to find it.

a/n: lmk if y’all want a scenario or something based on one of these! I’d love to write them!!

#NCT #NCT 127 #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 au #nct au #nct fics #nct 127 fics #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #sweetdejun #kpop writing #kpop aus #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #moon taeil #lee taeyong #nakamoto yuta #seo johnny #kim doyoung #jung jaehyun #dong winwin #kim jungwoo #lee mark #lee haechan

[acciotonystank]

Still I See you, Celestial

Read on AO3

Tony was in the lab when he got the alert. Music was blasting through the room as he hunched over a circuit board when his phone screen flashed with the notification that the integrity of Peter’s suit had been compromised, and that the graphical processing unit of its AI had been damaged, rendering her useless.

“FRI? Baby monitor,” he frowned, putting down his tools and turning to his computer.

The screen lit up with a live feed from Peter’s suit, and Tony swore under his breath when he saw a haze of fire. The boy was staggering through the burning building, coughing and panting with arm around a young woman who was struggling to stay upright. Within seconds, Tony was in one of his suits, the feed now coming through in front of his eyes as he took off from the tower, speeding through the air towards the blinking red dot on the map. 

Tony watched as Peter managed to get the woman to a window and not-so-gracefully swung them down to the ground where a crowd of people where watching anxiously. He let out a breath of relief once the boy was out of the building, only to swear again when Peter then looked back up at the building and scale the wall, scrambling towards an open window.

“FRI, patch me through,” he ordered.

“Mister Stark?” Peter’s raspy voice spoke up.

“Kid, you gotta get out of there,” he said, approaching the building.

“I gotta make sure everyone’s out,” he coughed, racing through the building, dodging falling debris.

“FRIDAY, are there any people left in the building?” Tony asked, eyes darting over the information the AI presented.

“No, Boss.”

“Everyone’s out, Spidey, you can come out now.”

“Okay, Mister-“ Peter cut himself off abruptly. “Wait, I hear something.”

“The main structural support system of building has been compromised and will likely collapse at any minute,” FRIDAY supplied.

“Fuck, kiddo, you gotta get out, it’s about to collapse.”

“No, Mr Stark, there’s someone else here, I can hear it-“

“FRIDAY’s scanned the building, it’s clear,” he interrupted harshly. “Now get the fuck out of that building right now.”

“No, Mr Stark, I can hear something!” Peter insisted frantically.

“Kid,” Tony said sharply, preparing to go in there and drag his stubborn ass out of that building. “I’m not fucking around. It’s clear and about to collapse - you need to get out.”

“Just a minute, I gotta-“

Peter voice was cut off by a series of creaking, cracking and clashing as the building crumbled, and with it, Tony’s face. The man let out a strangled cry and dove into the ablaze rubble, not paying any mind to the sweltering heat the fire produced.  

He almost vomited when he reached the boy. He was lying on the floor, his head turned away from him… and a metal rod pierced through his abdomen, blood pooling around him. The cherry on top was the small bundle of fur tucked under his protective arm, looking around anxiously and meowing loudly. All this for a fucking cat.

“FRI?”

“The object has not pierced any vital organs, however, Mister Parker is losing blood rapidly,” the AI reported.

Tony knew he couldn’t just pull the rod out if he didn’t want Peter to bleed out in seconds, but he had to move him and fast. He crouched down, absentmindedly taking note of Peter’s ragged breaths, and used a laser to cut the rod a few inches away from his skin, throwing the excess aside. A small part of him was grateful he was unconscious, because he was sure that the pain he would be experiencing would be excruciating.

Tony glanced at the terrified cat and let a small huff before grabbing it by the scruff of its neck and placing it on his shoulder, where it clung desperately, sliding around on the metal. He then gently scooped Peter’s limp body up and brought them to the crowd, where he unceremoniously shoved the cat in some kid’s arms and took off towards the tower, already barking orders at FRIDAY to alert Helen Cho and prepare a team for surgery.

He couldn’t help but glance over Peter’s body as they flew, taking in the burns and bloody tears in the suit. The eyes that were usually white were grey with ash and dirt, and Tony struggled with Peter in his arms for a moment while he pulled the mask up over his mouth and nose so he could breathe easier.

When he landed on the balcony of the tower, he stepped out of the suit and ran into the medbay, where Helen was pulling on a pair of gloves. Before he could say anything, the team of doctors had swarmed them, gently transferring Peter’s body to an operating table and rushing him into theatre to perform surgery. Tony followed right behind them, unable to take his eyes of the boy, who was getting paler by the second.

He was stopped abruptly by Helen’s hand on his chest, her expression determined.

“You can’t go in there, Stark. You have to let us help him now. You can watch if you really insist,” she offered, gesturing to the window into the operating theatre, “but… I really would advise against it.”

Tony wanted to argue, to demand that he hold his kid’s hand through the surgery, to tell her to get fucked because he wasn’t going to fail Peter again. But he knew, logically, that acting out would only cause problems, and frankly, he didn’t have the energy or capacity to fight one of the only people who could help Peter now. So he simply shot a helpless look over her shoulder at the team of doctors peeling the suit off of him and pulling out various medical instruments.

“Is… is he going to be okay?” he asked desperately.

Helen looked at him sympathetically. “You know I can’t promise that.”

Tony couldn’t think straight, only stare blankly at Peter as the doctor turned into the room, the door sliding shut behind her as she started directing everyone about. He stumbled slightly over to the window and leant against it to steady himself.

“Tony?” Pepper breathed, running up to him and pulling him into a tight hug. “How is he?”

The man just shook his head, not trusting himself to use his voice. She pulled away and placed a hand on his cheek, brushing her thumb against his skin comfortingly. Her hand found his and squeezed it tightly as they turned to watch the scene play out in front of them.  

Tony watched as they treated and covered his burns and cuts. Watched as they tried to remove the metal, only to end up having to tediously cut it from the muscle that had started to heal around it. Watched as the blood pooled, despite the attempts to put pressure on the wound and prevent the flow.

Then Peter’s heart stopped and, for a moment, Tony thought his had too.

He couldn’t do anything but stare in pure horror at the straight line on the heart monitor, alarms blaring in his ears. His knees gave out underneath him and he placed his hands over his mouth, eyes burning with tears, chest heaving with sobs that he wouldn’t let escape him. He could faintly feel Pepper’s arms around him, her fingers weaving into his hair, could vaguely hear her voice… but he couldn’t concentrate on any of that. Only the lifeless child in front of his eyes.

Peter was dead. His kid was dead. And all he could do was watch his entire body jolt with each dose of electric current they forced through his chest, desperately trying to get his stupidly oversized heart started again. When was the last time he’d told Peter loved him? He sure as fuck didn’t say it as often as he should have. Had Peter died not knowing how much he really meant to Tony? Of course he had, because Tony never did tell him. Sure, he’d said ‘I love you’, but that hardly encompassed everything he felt for the boy who had stubbornly wiggled his way into Tony’s heart.

Peter was the most selfless person Tony had ever met. He was so kind, generous and good and had so much potential. But now he was gone, and Tony wouldn’t get to see him off on his first date, or graduate high school, or go to college, or get married-

Tony froze when a steady beeping met his ears. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. He staggered to his feet, trembling hands pressed against the glass, staring at the pulsing heart monitor in overwhelming relief.  Realising that his world had started moving again, Tony collapsed into a chair with Pepper by his side, and watched them complete the procedure. At some point, May arrived, having left work early when Pepper had informed her of what had happened. Tony expected her to yell at him, to hit him, to refuse to look at him. But instead, she had hugged him, and sat down beside him without a word, staring anxiously at her nephew.

Helen was the first to come out, and informed them that Peter was now stable and would make a full recovery, and proceeded to list the full list of injuries and told them she’d be around if they needed anything.

May was the first to go in once Peter had been transferred to a recovery room, and Tony insisted she have some time alone with him. Although it came across as him being polite to May, in truth, he was just hesitant to go in, despite how desperate he had been to be with Peter before. Maybe it was because he’d realised how terrifyingly mortal Peter was, or because a part of him still didn’t believe that this was real - that this was a figment of his imagination he’d come up with to cope with the fact that he really was dead. Or maybe it was to do with the crippling guilt because why did he waste time telling Peter to get out when he could have just dragged him out? When had Peter ever been one to listen in situations like that? If only Tony had gotten there faster, if he had built the suit better, if he had-

“Stop it,” Pepper said softly, pulling him from his thoughts. She was gazing at him intently, waiting for him to actually step into the room. “I can practically see you stewing in self-loathing, but none of this is your fault. And don’t even try to argue with me.”

“I just… I always feel like I could be doing better, I feel like I could have done better,” he replied pathetically.

“You did everything in your power to keep Peter safe-“

“But it wasn’t enough, was it?”

“Tony,” she sighed exasperatedly, “if you weren’t there, he would have died in that fire. You got him out in time so he could be saved.”

Pepper drew him into one last soft, sweet kiss, and gently guided him into the room.

Peter was connected to an array of machines, and had an endotracheal tube coming out of his mouth. His dirty face was still pale, but had regained colour since Tony brought him in, and was covered in bandages, yet he still looked incredibly peaceful. May was curled up in the chair beside his bed, clutching his hand in her own. The woman gave him a small smile and gestured to the chair on his other side. Tony rested a hand over Peter’s free hand, before letting out a sigh and taking a seat. Now that he was here, he didn’t want to leave in case something happened, he needed to make sure he was safe and alive. He took comfort in the steady beeping of his heart monitor, unable to keep the echoes of the flatline alarm out of his mind.

Tony reached forward to take Peter’s wrist and feel his pulse underneath his fingertips. Just to make sure. And when he made eye contact with May, he pretended not to notice the knowing look in her eye. At some point, May had reluctantly gone to bed as she had to get up early for a double shift the next day and needed to make sure she was well-rested, despite being tempted to call in sick.

Throughout the night, Tony stayed there, persistently refusing Pepper’s pleas to eat and drink and sleep. Even when she brought down a tray of food and a glass of water, along with a pillow, he refused to move. Instead, he tapped away at his StarkPad, jotting down ideas to better the suit in terms of puncture resistance, flame retardation, smoke filtration… maybe an in-suit defibrillator? At about 3am, Tony decided that Peter’s face really needed to be cleaned, because it was still covered ash and dirt and that wouldn’t do. So he got a cloth and some lukewarm water and gently started wiping the grime off Peter’s face, soothed by the youth it restored.

The man then returned to his position of one hand on Peter’s pulse and the other typing one-handedly on the screen. By now, the rhythm and tempo of his heartbeat was ingrained in his mind, and that, along with the steady beeping and sound of Peter’s assisted breaths eventually lulled him to sleep.

Tony awoke late the next morning to Helen checking over Peter and swapping out the drip. He noticed the tube was gone, replaced by a cannula, and wondered when that had happened.

“He’ll most likely wake up in the next few hours,” she spoke up, realising he was awake. “He’ll be in and out for a while, though. I’m amazed at his healing, even for an enhanced. I’ve never seen anything like it. He’s a very lucky young man.”

At first, he thought she meant Peter was lucky to have his powers, but then the real implication of her words sunk in and he swallowed. If it weren’t for his healing, he may have been dead by the time Tony got to him, unable to be saved. He would have died for sure.

He did die, some voice in the back of his mind supplied.

About an hour later, Peter stirred and was conscious for approximately fifty hazy-as-fuck seconds before passing out again. He woke up a couple more times with slightly better results, however it wasn’t until a bit after 2pm that he fully regained consciousness. His eyes blearily blinked open and trailed around the room, landing on Tony, who offered him a glass of water without saying anything. Peter gratefully took a few sips and looked at Tony anxiously.

“Is everyone okay?” he croaked.

It seemed that during all that time, Tony had plenty of time to churn his anxiety and fear into anger and frustration. He wanted to explode, wanted to demand why Peter didn’t follow his order because despite all the guilt he carried, it was still easier to lash out.

“You mean everyone aside from you?” he asked bitterly. “Yeah. Even that fucking cat.”

Peter’s lips pressed together and Tony knew he hadn’t masked his frustration nearly as well as he’d hoped. He also knew that he’d struggle to not snap at Peter, and decided that it’d be better for both of them if he just got himself out of there.

“I’ve got to go take care of some SI stuff,” he said abruptly, getting to his feet. “I’m… I’m glad you’re okay, kid,” he added at the slightly hurt expression on Peter’s face.

He glanced at him one last time before walking out of the room and taking the elevator back up to his floor. Pepper wouldn’t be back from her meeting for another couple of hours, so Tony busied himself with making coffee, responding to emails and working more on his designs for a new suit for Peter.

Maybe rewatching the footage from the incident over and over wasn’t the best idea, but Tony needed to analyse everything he could to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. So over and over again, he watched Peter stumble through the haze of fire, watched him fall through the floor, watched the broken curtain rod pierce through his body.

He started preparing designs for a fabric that was completely fire proof and was much more resistant to tearing. It would be hard to balance that with making sure it was still comfortable and easy to move in but he would make sure it worked. He improved the protection around Karen’s GPU so Peter wouldn’t be left without her again. He made plans for adding a filter in the mask so that Peter wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of smoke inhalation again - he hated the sight of the ugly tube coming out Peter’s mouth and the implication that he couldn’t breathe on his own that came with it.

“Hey,” Pepper smiled at Tony as she walked in, pausing to take her heels off. “FRIDAY said Peter’s awake, how is he?”

“Uh, okay,” he replied distractedly, eyes still trained on the screen when she came up and placed a kiss on his head.

She pulled away and stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed slightly as they went between the screen and Tony’s tired face. “How long have you been up here?”

“Um, about two hours.”

“And how long has Peter been awake?”

Tony hesitated in shame. “About two hours.”

“You’re hiding from him,” Pepper responded flatly, folding her arms.

“I’m not hiding,” he scowled. “He disobeyed a direct order and almost - no wait, sorry - did die.”

“I know you’re angry, Tony, but you need to go down there and talk to that poor boy, because he can’t be alone right now. I don’t care if you’re mad at him, you need to swallow your pride and make sure he’s okay.”

“He died, Pep, because I wasn’t good enough. He’s better off without me.”

“Okay, so let me run this situation past you - Peter is in that burning building, but you’re not there so he bleeds out or- or burns to death. Is that what you mean by better off?”

“He wouldn’t have been in there if I never got involved.”

“That’s bullshit,” she said calmly. “That whole fiasco on moving day with that vulture guy showed that no matter if you never met him, he would still have been in that building. But he wouldn’t have the suit and probably would have died before he could get even half those people out. When will you get it through your head that he needs you? I know that you’d move heaven and earth for Peter-“

“But he doesn’t know that,” Tony interrupted quietly. “He- he could have died and he wouldn’t have known how much I-“ he cut himself off and Pepper took a deep, steadying breath.

“So you hide up here? Is this you showing how much you care about him? By hiding when he needs you most? You’re right, Peter could have died on that table without knowing what he means to you, but he came back and now you have the chance to tell him and you’re abandoning him! God, Tony you’re a dumbass sometimes. Get your ass down there and talk to him.”

Tony buried his face in his hands. “Fuck, you’re right. What am I doing?”

Pepper pursed her lips and ran her fingers through his hair. “It’s going to be fine, honey.”

He nodded and pulled her into a tight hug, then pulled away and kissed her softly. “Thank you.”

When Tony arrived outside of Peter’s room, he hesitated for a moment before walking in. Peter was staring at the television, but looked over at him with an unreadable expression when he entered.

“Hey, Mr Stark,” he greeted softly, voice still hoarse.

“Are you sure you’re supposed to be sitting up already?”

Peter frowned slightly, glancing down at himself or a moment before meeting Tony’s eyes again. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Tony couldn’t help the childish ‘hmph’ that escaped him at the word ‘fine’, because things were not ‘fine’ by any standard.

Peter’s gaze dropped and his hands fidgeted. “I’m sorry, Mr Stark, I know I should have gotten out when you told me, but I heard something and I thought there was someone else inside.”

Tony was well aware that people shouldn’t bottle up their emotions, because that never ends well. But it was hard to avoid it when he didn’t even realise he was doing it. He never did until it was too late, and now was one of those times.

"That ‘something’ was just a fucking cat, Peter. And I told you to get out and you didn’t listen to me!”

Peter scowled. “Because I thought there was another person trapped in the burning building, forgive me.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, I told you it was clear!”

“Well, it wasn’t,” he replied petulantly.

“Four-legged creatures don’t count.”

“Well, that’s rude,” he muttered.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Tony burst. "I know you have the urge to protect every living thing on the planet, but you can’t risk your life for a fucking pet, Peter.”

“I didn’t know it was a cat, okay?” Peter defended, his lip wobbling. Tony’s face softened slightly, beginning to think he was being too harsh. “I don’t regret it, though,” he added stubbornly. And Tony exploded.

“You would have died if you weren’t you, do you not realise that?” he snapped.

“Yeah, well, right now I’m beginning to wish I wasn’t,” he mumbled angrily.

“What did you just say?”

Peter just glared at him.

“You disobeyed a direct order-!“

“I don’t care!” he interrupted defiantly, swinging his legs around over the bed to face Tony. “Do you not realise that? I got those people out, that’s all that matters.”

“NO, ITS NOT!” Tony yelled. “YOU MATTER, PETER. Jesus Christ, I got in there and saw you lying unconscious and bleeding, I thought you were-“ he cut himself off and took a deep breath. “Fuck, Pete, you gotta look after yourself sometimes.”

“Like you?” he replied coolly.

“I don’t want you to be like me! Can’t you get that through your thick skull?”

“Yeah, I get it, Mr Stark, you want me to be better… but I saved all those people and I’m fine, I don’t see-“

“YOU’RE NOT FINE!” he roared. “YOU DIED ON THE TABLE WHILE I COULDN’T DO ANYTHING BUT WATCH. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW THAT FEELS?”

This was clearly news to Peter, who’s face dropped at hearing he had died. At the last sentence, however, he glared harshly at Tony and stood up furiously.

“I KNOW EXACTLY HOW THAT FEELS!” he shouted, jabbing a finger at Tony. “I watched uncle Ben bleed out in front of me and it was all my fault! Thats why I have to do this! I don’t want anyone else to die because I failed!”

Well, that was annoyingly familiar.

“You can’t save everyone, kid!” Tony argued. “And I get it, you can’t let go, but I can’t let go of you. I can’t lose you, Peter. What happened with Ben sucks horse shit, and if you could go back in time and prevent that happening you would, wouldn’t you?”

Peter stepped back in offence. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I would!”

“Then can’t you see that this is why I’m doing this?” Tony begged. “I’m just trying to protect you. If I tell you to get out, you need to get out. You barely came out alive and I can’t do that again, I can’t. And you won’t always be that lucky. If you keep pulling shit like that, one day you’re gonna- and I can’t-“

Sometimes, Tony could feel pain attacks slowly tugging at him, drawing him under like quicksand. But this one seemed to snatch him, plunging him under the icy water with no warning.

“Mr Stark?” Peter spoke up, eyes watching him anxiously. “Mr Stark, you gotta breathe,” he pleaded, guiding the man into the chair and crouching in front of him. “C’mon, deep breaths, follow me.”

It took a few minutes to bring the man back down, and when he did, he stared fixedly on Peter in front of him and reached out to gently take his wrist to feel his pulse again. The boy glanced down at his wrist in confusion, but his expression softened when Tony turned it over and placed his fingers over his pulse point.

“I-I’m okay, I’m right here,” he whispered, guilt crashing over him in waves at the fact that he had caused this. “I’m sorry, Mr Stark, I’m so sorry.”

Tony shook his head and let go of Peter’s wrist. “No, kiddo, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you. That was… I hated how my dad acted and yet here I am screaming at you.”

“I was being selfish.”

Tony barked out a shaky laugh. “Kid, you are anything but selfish. You’re terrifyingly selfless. You’re so good, Pete. You’re too good and it scares me because I know you’d risk your life over and over for random strangers, which is unbelievably heroic but I still hate it.”

“I know... I’m sorry for not considering your feelings. I was so wrapped up in thinking about Ben, I didn’t consider what you were going through. I guess sometimes it’s just hard to think that... never mind.”

Peter looked away, biting his lip and Tony frowned.

“Uh-uh, none of that. What were you gonna say?”

“I just... I know that you say you love me, but…”

“You don’t think I love you?” he asked weakly, feeling his self-hate coil a little tighter around him.

“No. I- I know you do l, but sometimes…” Peter trailed off and Tony’s heart clenched when he realised what he was struggling to say.

“Anxiety tells you I don’t?”

He nodded, still not looking at Tony. “It... it makes it easier, when I’m in situations like that, to think that I’m not important to people.”

Tony swallowed and leant forward to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Oh, bud. I’ve been there, done that. But trust me, I’ve learnt that it’s better to keep the important people in your life in your mind because it gives you an incentive to make it back home. If you go into missions thinking you don’t matter you won’t try nearly as hard as if you know you’ve got someone waiting at home for you. And you have ‘em, kid. You’ve got May, Ned, that scary girl you like... Pepper, Rhodey and Happy all love you, even if Happy pretends not to.

“And I love you, kid, so damn much it scares me. When… God, when you flatlined during surgery, I- I couldn’t breathe, I… couldn’t stop thinking about how you had died not knowing truly how much you mean to me. I don’t tell you I love you enough and it’s something I’m trying to work on-“

“It’s okay, Mr Stark,” Peter interrupted softly.

“It’s not. It’s not,” Tony shook his head insistently. “Pete, you’re… you’re like a- you’re like my- my-“

“I know,” he said, giving the man a small smile. “You don’t have to say it, I get it. I know that you're not a very affectionate person, but that's not a flaw.”

He shook his head frustratedly. “No, kid, I want to say it. You’re like a- a son to me. I care about you more than I ever thought I would and I love you more than you can imagine. And I’m so sorry for getting so angry at you, it was just- it was just my fear twisting out of control and pouring out in an ugly fit. I’m really proud of you, Pete. I am. I admire you so much. But you gotta stop being reckless, okay? If I tell you to do something, it’s for a reason. I can’t let anything happen to you, Pete. You’re way too important.”

“Okay, I’ll try,” Peter promised. “And I love you too, by the way. Ben was the closest thing I had to a father after my parents died and then- and then all that happened now that’s- that’s you.”

“Underoos, I- fuck, did you pull a stitch?” Tony stared at the growing red stain on the bandage around his abdomen in panic. “FRI, get Helen.”

“Huh, guess I did,” he replied nonchalantly. “Is that bad?”

“Yes, it’s bad! You need your blood inside your body.”

“Wow, they really don’t call you a genius for nothing,” Peter sniggered.

“Oh, shut up, you’re grounded.”

“Why are you out of bed?” Helen demanded, storming into the room and pushing Peter back onto the bed.

“His fault,” Peter grinned, pointing at Tony while the doctor just rolled her eyes and got out a small kit to restitch the wound.

“You were the one who felt the need to stand up suddenly to make a point, you drama queen.”

Both Peter and Helen paused to look at the billionaire with raised eyebrows.

“Right, pot kettle,” he murmured, scratching his goatee.

“What can I say?” Peter grinned. “I take after you.”

“You’re a little shit.”

“Also you.”

Tony reached across and flicked him on the nose, causing him to jerk away and laugh.

“Dude.”

“Don’t ‘dude’ me, young man.”

“Okay, dad.”

“You’re grounded ’til you’re thirty.”

“I don’t even live here!”

#iron dad #irondad fanfiction #peter parker #tony stark #Irondad and Spiderson

[daughterofelros]

Hey so I saw your post about Alex and his resilience and how he's rate on a scale and how this relates to his childhood trauma etc and was really curious to know/understand more on the topic and how it manifests with alex but also you mentioned rosa? And the other characters too. If you're happy to elaborate otherwise no worries of course. What interpretations do you make from what we've seen on screen? ☺

Oh my gosh Nonnie, thank you for the juicy, delicious ask!

The Connor-Davidson Resilience Scale (Commonly abbreviated to CD-RISC) measures, in its full version, 25 different statements. Some of the ones that stand out to me in thinking about a bunch of the RNM characters include being able to adapt and change, having close and secure relationships, able to make unpopular/difficult decisions, know where to get help, but they’re all pretty important.

As established in my earlier assessment, Alex Manes = Super Resilient, and that definitely has an effect on the ways he handles the traumas he’s faced over his life.

Let me dive into Rosa little bit more first— Rosa, despite not enduring the specific type of abuse that Alex and Michael did as kids, might actually score in a lower percentile than either of those characters on the resilience scale. Part of this is because adverse childhood experiences, though cumulative, aren’t exactly ranked and scaled. Trauma impacts people differently, and you can’t really say whether growing up feeling abandoned by an alcoholic parent in an otherwise supportive context, or never having a safe parental figure, or having a parent die will impact someone “worse”—they’re all adversity, and they all have an impact on our health and capacity for resilience. (Also, inequality isn’t a fixed experience in our brains—for more reading on how weird our brains are in this regard, check out “The Broken Ladder: How Inequality Affects the Way We Think, Live, and Die”  by Keith B Payne).So Rosa definitely has adverse childhood experiences that impact her relationships. At the point when we’re first introduced to her, she’s probably in about the worst place she could be there—Her friendships are being proven to be based on what drugs she can score, her relationship with her mother is shredded, and she’s just learned that Arturo isn’t her father. Even though Arturo’s love and support for her wouldn’t budge an inch, she feels separated from the most supportive relationship in her life, and she’s spiraling. She struggles to adapt, her coping mechanisms mess with her brain chemistry where she’s already contending with dopamine issues due to the mental illness she’s battling , and it’s pretty clear that she doesn’t have a strong read on where to get help (Though she’s willing to accept it—Valenti’s help getting clean, having met once with a therapist, leaning into her artwork).  Pressure doesn’t make her think very clearly, and she doesn’t seem like she takes high levels of pride in her achievements, or trust that she can achieve her goals if she works for them. Traumas are going to hit her hard. They’re not going to roll off her back easily. When she comes back to life, she gets a partial reset button, and handles some big trauma pretty well…but she also is terrified of messing it up, and breaks down if anything gets derailed (see: “I Ruined my Miracle”). I’d say she’s doing a great job coping with what she’s got…but her resilience score isn’t the highest. Things hit her hard.

Let’s look at Michael then. He’s got every reason why his resilience score might not be high. He’s dealt with so damn much. But the thing that’s helped him get through is that his resilience score actually seems like it would be pretty well up there. He doesn’t have good parental figure relationships (understatement of the year)—But he’s got a couple of relationships (Max and Isobel) that won’t abandon him, no matter how he pushes, even when everything is burning around them. Michael clearly believes that working toward goals means he can achieve them. He’s been trying to build the spaceship to take him back home since he was, like, eight. That’s goal-oriented right there! He’s not going to score well in the “getting help” vector at all, but he does work extremely well under pressure (his genius increases when he’s pissed off). Michael also clearly believes that he can deal with whatever comes his way, he ultimately doesn’t give up when things look hopeless (alien pacemaker in 7 hours), and I’d bet my bottom dollar that he would agree that coping with stress has made him stronger. He’d probably rank himself pretty high on the “Can make difficult or unpopular decisions” factor—choosing to take the blame and protect Isobel, volunteering to be the alien who gets turned into the authorities…there are flaws in his reasoning on the last one, and definitely some internalized feelings of his life not being as important…but he shows a clear propensity for being willing to make unspeakably challenging decisions. He probably won’t rank high in the “Pride in my achievements” vector, and that hits up against the things he’s internalized from the ACES he’s had piled on him—from childhood abuse and abandonment right up to Jesse Manes, crippling injury, and covering up murders. His resilience is high, but he’s coping with a lot, and he doesn’t have as many tools to keep coping as, say, Alex does.  We can also see that there’s a pretty debilitating impact when he shifts to the knowledge that his Mom was alive and he watched her die… and then starts to question why she didn’t take him out of the Pod to be with her in 1947. He starts to have thoughts about abandonment that he hadn’t had when he just thought his Mom died in the crash…and that paired with Max’s death really, really throws him. He rejects connections that have ever been tied up in pain and abandonment, and we see him spiraling. His resilience definitely dips when those circumstances occur…and as we see him trust in some of his relationships again, we see his ability to cope return as well. With the right tools and support, he can actually do a lot of healing yet too.

Isobel probably scores pretty high on the scale at the beginning of season 1. She’s had some adverse childhood experiences from waking up from the pods, from being attacked in the desert as a teen., but she’s made it through all of that without a ton of trauma responses (given that the blackouts turned out to be mind control) She’s confident in her goals, her relationships, she’s strong in her decision-making, she believes she’s built herself a good life. She has a supportive family, Max is her person, she’s got Michael, and her husband is amazingly supportive. We don’t see much in the way of friends, but she’s got a Boss-Ass support structure. Until she realizes she doesn’t. That Noah is a thread of rot through all of it, and she’s been deceived on an inconceivable level. And then she loses Max.

Isobel at the beginning of Season 2 would fill this assessment out very, very differently. And the sharp drop in some of the factors of her resilience really make her struggle. Her confidence in herself as a strong person is deeply under review, and she’s leaning a little hard into the god-like powers aspect of herself. Knocking Rosa out with a book is a really alarming manifestation of how her reasoning and coping skills are out of alignment. She’d probably use it as evidence for her ability to make unpopular decisions though. She’d score really high in the vector regardless though—because choosing to terminate a pregnancy in a town like Roswell…that takes so damn much resilience, ability to make decisions under pressure, etc.  She’s still got the resilience that comes from her goal setting and working for things she values though—her training with her powers shows that pretty clearly.

Isobel definitely isn’t going to score high in the “Knows where to get help” vector though. She refuses therapy, refuses help from family, doesn’t seek medical assistance, and almost dies as a result of her abortion, when she would have had all kinds of support from people around her if she’d been able to reach out. Even when she’s struggling, she has a history of resilience to draw on though.

Let’s talk Cam for a moment—we don’t have a lot of info on her childhood, but Cam actually seems to be a character with high scores across the board—for only having 2 years in Roswell, she forms connections pretty readily, goes to people for help, is focused on goals, takes pride in her work. She handles most things with aplomb, and isn’t easily manipulated. Jesse Manes has to work pretty hard on her to get her to bat an eyelash. That’s particularly interesting given the relationship that resilience has in attenuating depression effects and PTSD effects on people with combat experience.

Max is hard to talk about, because we don’t know a lot about where he is this season, and what the trauma of dying and being kept in a pod in constant pain is going to do to him. He seems reasonably able to deal with the hardships he’s faced prior to this, shows a propensity to be able to make unpopular decisions, and is probably the character who is most consistently and intentionally shown investing in relationships. I’d imagine that his resistance score is at least in the middling percentiles. Max is also pretty much the character it’s hardest to wrap my brain around when I’m writing, so that’s why I think I struggle in guessing how he’d assess himself here too.

Kyle is so interesting, because he’s a character who seems to know himself really well, and has maybe also changed the most over 10 years. Kyle these days really values and invests in his relationships—His Mom, Liz, rebuilding a friendship with Alex, trusting Cam. He’s dedicated in pursuing goals, takes pride in his accomplishments, has a reasonably good idea of where to seek help, works well under pressure. He’s had a lot of advantages in life, and while med school definitely tests his resilience and endurance, I don’t know how much his resilience has had to help him get through trauma before this.  I do know that the scene where he almost buys a gun is one of my favorites, because it shows him trying to cope with crisis and handle a lot of stress. I don’t think we’ve seen a full enough arc of how he’s coping yet though—I think there’s more to come.

Maria DeLuca strikes me as scoring relatively high on resilience assessments (or at least the high end of mid-to-upper range). She’s caring for a mother with dementia, runs a business, and deals with racism and misogyny in a town like Roswell, which it’s well-established is renowned for both of those things. Maria has really strong relationships—her Mother is a huge priority, her friends matter deeply to her (fandom drama over ships aside, and whether Alex should forgive her for dating Michael or not, Maria in canon expresses a lot of care for her friends, worries if she’s hurt them, and forgives when she’s hurt herself). She’s close with Arturo, she visits Rosa’s grave once a month. She does a lot of giving, not a lot of getting back, and feels pretty shaken when she’s deceived, but she still has a lot of stable relationships to lean into. She’s…not great at asking for help, or letting on that she needs it- she tries to go everything alone. But she also problem-solves, she pursues her goals, she believes that you get what you work for  (“No one ever accused me of a lack of hustle”),  and she doesn’t give up when she feels hopeless.  She’s probably middle of the road on handling unpleasant feelings—some she handles well, some she reacts intensely to, some she buries. It seems like when a crisis happens, she’s conflicted and struggling in the moment, but processes through things in a reasonably short time. I’d say one of the places that she doesn’t score that high on is the ability to adapt to change. She gets there eventually, but that’s where she struggles the most. The thing is, because of what she’s faced with in daily life, she’s constantly utilizing her resilience. It’s something she leans on all the time.

Liz is brilliant, and amazing, and it’s kind of hard for me to parse this out for her. Strong relationships, she’s got those. She’s great at adapting, great at problem-solving and pursuing her goals. She sees herself as strong, faces challenges, sees the humor in things, bounces back from setbacks, honestly, she would score pretty well in every category. I think there’s pretty clear evidence that with all the things she’s accomplished and all the things she’s endured, Liz Ortecho is a wellspring of resilience, and it definitely attenuates the long-term negative effects she might face from her experiences. She faces some of the same adverse childhood experiences that her sister does, but reacts very differently. Their resilience—despite the similarity of their contexts for nurture—differs substantially…and that’s even before we add in the trauma of Rosa’s death that Liz contends with.

Overall, the characters on this show are a resilient bunch. I’m watching some other shows right now as I make masks for my community, and it strikes me that most of the RNM characters would score higher on the CD-RISC assessment than the characters on those other TV shows (many of whom hold a relatively large amount of privilege).

But notably, the characters on RNM strike me as far more like the people who move through my community every day. Overwhelmingly, my community is comprised of queer people, people of color, homeless and unaccompanied youth, people dealing with mental health issues, sexual assault survivors, abuse survivors, folks with PTSD and DID, and people who would be considered low-socioeconomic status. My community is made up almost entirely of people who deal with adverse experiences, and had intense adverse childhood experiences. Resilience is the norm. Resilience ends up being a key word in almost every letter of recommendation I write. And one of the reasons I love RNM so much is that the characters are brought to life quite realistically. There’s a lot of different truths from experience, and a lot of different paths to similar truth. But overwhelmingly, their responses to these impossible events are grounded in realistic depictions. When it comes to character development, this might just be some of the best writing I’ve ever seen on TV. And for a show that’s solidly in the sci-fi realm…it’s possibly the most realistic show I’ve ever seen.

#RNM meta #Anonymous #Resilience #Alex Manes #Rosa Ortecho #Michael Guerin #Maria DeLuca #Kyle Valenti #Liz Ortecho #Max Evans #Isobel Evans #Jenna Cameron #CD-RISC #my thoughts

[hclycons]

( charles melton , cismale , he/him, 25 ) omg ! i was walking yonge street downtown , and you’ll never guess who i saw . kai moon ! i just saw a post about them on sixsecrets ! i think it said something like “ is he ever sober? kai moon runs down a letterbox again ” . isn’t that wild ? i guess it makes sense through , since they’re apparently secretive and negligent . but i’ve heard they’re also charming and considerate ! i’ll just stick to giving them the benefit of the doubt . i mean , it’s not like i know them personally — they’re a famous actor ! you know , i’ve actually heard rumors that redacted, but they’re just rumors … i think . i dunno . if you happen to run into them , tell them i’m their biggest fan ! 

pinterest board here but be warned for some potential nsfw / body image ! 

originally from north carolina, and he was raised by a single mom ( he doesn’t know who is dad is ) who worked two jobs at all times to get kai where he wanted to be which basically wore the poor woman down , which kai only realised when it was too late 

illness tw : his mom was diagnosed with alzheimers through kai’s final years of high school which were also the years where he was finally picking up acting roles after years of auditions and working his ass off to fly back and forth to los angeles for castings. he was in a couple films as a kid, but nothing notable until he was cast in the fosters, and he moved with his mom to los angeles to film it ! 

working so much, now both for himself and for his mom and the growing medical bills meant that he was constantly under pressure to keep his passion for acting strong so that it wasn’t  ‘ all for nothing ‘ and so he could pay the bills, basically. 

drugs / alcohol tw : he started to hang around with a group of other aspiring actors who introduced him to the glitz and ‘glamour’ of hollywood, from lavish parties and rare invitations to the wild parties and ‘ free ‘ drugs, something he easily fell into so he could keep up with the pressure of everything. 

twenty-one and he was well and truly in the limelight working in his role in the fosters, partying up a storm and slowly forgetting about his responsibilities. he met a girl, another actress while working on a romantic drama film and after a weekend of ??? passion ?? they hooked up on a once-off and didn’t see each other again for a few months until promo for the film begun. 

death tw : he lost his mom this same month to her illnesses , and he fell into his habits even more - frequenting the tabloids and not in a pretty way, either. this was around the time that he found out he was gonna be a dad , two weeks into promo and the actress he’d had the fling with told him she was three months along and !! it was his. 

after he was cast in to all the boys i’ve loved before as the lead, he was immediately recognised for his acting, finally, and his hard work was starting to pay off - and when his daughter was born during filming, he kept it a secret as well as he could to protect her, and he still does.

after a small stint in rehab in 2019, he was stable enough to get back into things, cementing himself as ‘the heartthrob’ as much as the label made him cringe, it was a little accurate.

a bit of a player , will charm the hell out of anyone he wants to get close to and kinda sleeps around a lot ?? not a huGe fan of commitment but also a huge romantic so GOOD LUCK

humble to an extent , kinda let the fame get to him a little and spends way too much money trying to fit in to hollywood and leave his less-wealthy life behind and the guilt that lives there, too. 

rides a motorbike but is the clumsiest guy you’d meet, so he is constantly injured 

ask him specifically to not speak sarcastic and you might get a proper answer from him

if he wasn’t an actor, he’d probably be a photographer and always has his camera around his neck or nearby 

#sixhqintro #illness tw #death tw #drugs tw #alcohol tw