#play avengers spidey

[webshootersandwingdings]

Spidey Noir plays in the Snow

#spider man noir #playstation #marvel #spider-man #gamerverse #play avengers spidey #play avengers #marvel's avengers #marvel games #crystal dynamics #square enix #video games #virtual photography #gaming #games #gaming screenshot #in game photography #photomode #photo mode

[spaghettiposts]

Window Crashin’

WandaNat x Spidey!Reader

Summery: Crashing into the wrong window at night proves to be the best mistake you’ve ever made.

Warnings: Very OBLIVIOUS reader, straight up stupid I can’t lie. Gay panics all around. Fluff

Word count: 1.6k

A/n: my first time officially writing for Nat and I think I’d like to continue so expect separate fics of her sometime soon.

Kraven had become an incessant thorn in your side, his relentless rampage ever since he announced “The Grand Hunt” in the heart of Central Park felt like a never-ending nightmare. One that persistently dragged on as the weeks floated by, each day a new form of tinnitus growing in your eardrums at the echoings of his horn. Falling once again into his endless game of cat and mouse.

Or in your case Kraven and Spider–with Kraven playing predator and you, the elusive Spider, trying to lure him away from innocent civilians roaming the streets of New York. 

Which wasn’t as easy as one would imagine, but you made do with what you had, brains over brawns. Clinging onto the hope that eventually, Kraven would grow tired of chasing and resign for the night, with the promise that he’d return. And so the cycle goes on. 

There were other options you could resort to, but those were last resorts, ones you only used if you were certain you couldn’t handle Kraven or in case of an emergency. In all honesty, you’re avoiding involving the Avengers, it’s really the last thing you want this to come to. A couple of broken ribs wasn’t an Avengers level threat.

You could handle Kraven by yourself perfectly fine, and nobody got hurt at the end of the day—except mainly your sleep schedule.

And now, as you swung through the thick chilling air on route to the compound; you were struggling to stay awake, the bruises littered across your body only making it harder to keep swinging. It wasn’t that sleep had ever been your strong suit, but now, it seemed like a distant luxury. The sacrifice of a hero came in many forms, and sleep deprivation was yours. 

Tony had sacrificed half his company in pursuit of a heroic lifestyle, hell, even Steve froze himself to save humanity. If humanity needed you to suffer from fewer hours in bed, then so be it. 

You fought relentlessly to keep your eyes from drooping and it only took the honking of a truck for you to jolt awake, merely missing out on the experience of being rammed by one. 

Shaking your head, you muttered words of encouragement to yourself, living on a prayer of making it back to the compound - in one piece. 

As the familiar building came into view, you let out a breath of relief you didn’t know you were holding. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you swung around towards the left block and homed in on your window, only to face-plant straight into it with a resounding thud.

You groaned against the pavement, pressing your hands on the wall to steady yourself before you could slide off. Silently thanking that radioactive spider for granting you the ability to stick to surfaces as you adjusted yourself, what the fuck?

A miscalculation on your part—or at least you pictured. Pushing yourself back from the wall, your eyebrows crinkled. Huh.

You always left your window open–had one of your teammates closed it off?

Assuming one of the guys must’ve closed it off, you didn’t question much, missing your bed and running on pure exhaustion to really assess the situation seriously. Gripping the sides of the window, you tried to pry from the outside, and after a couple of difficulties; you managed to unlock it, budging it open with a click. 

Finally, home sweet home. 

Your body toppled into the room first before the rest of your body crashed onto the floor, reaching an arm to shut the window behind you. With a sigh of relief, you picked yourself up, stretching your arms above your head, eliciting a satisfying ‘pop’ from your back, feeling all the pent-up tensions of the day leave your body. 

Pressing the button on your chest, making quick work of discarding your suit. You struggled more than you’d like to admit, having to hop on one foot to wiggle your feet out of the padding. 

Amidst your squirming, you failed to notice the crimson warps seeping from your bed, freezing mid-movement as the lights flickered on by themselves, looking like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You screeched, scrambling up to your feet, firmly clutching your uniform in a poor attempt to cover yourself from the two women on your bed, equally startled.

“Y/n…? What are you doing here?” Natasha says after a beat of silence, her eyes furrowing as she lowers her gun and the arm protectively wrapped around her girlfriend. Wanda mirrored her actions and let the red wisps fall before she turned to you disconcertingly.

You shrunk under their gaze, feeling your heart pick up. It was too late to salvage any attempts at running for it, so you turned away, ignoring how affected you felt by their disheveled appearances.

Instead, you focused on why they were inside your room in the first place. Not that you minded having two beautiful women in your bed but at this hour? 

“What are you doing in my room? I just got back, what’s…” Your voice trailed off, slipping on your suit, as you looked towards your dresser…was it always that color? And why was there a photo of Wanda and Natasha on your nightstand? Sure, you were hopelessly in love with the two but never to this extent.

Barely bordering on those lines. 

“Detka…this is our room,” Wanda said slowly, as to not startle you. 

You cursed under your breath, realizing your mistake. “Aw fuck, I must’ve crashed into the wrong—wall-side thing,” you explained messily, picking yourself up for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. 

“Crashed?” Both of the girls shouted and you winced, scooting off awkwardly to the side, feeling even more like an intrusion. 

“Yeah but it’s okay though, that’s nothing compared to Kraven's fists, trust me.” You meant to reassure them, but judging by the worried looks they exchanged, it had the opposite effect. Taking their silence as an opportunity to leave, you stepped back.

“Anyways, sorry for interrupting your night.” You mumbled apologetically, reaching for the window handle. “I’ll see y'all tomorrow— son of a bitch.” You grunted, banging your head against the glass for the second time this night. You were really starting to resent these things.  

And Wanda bit her bottom lip, “Malysh, it’s late and you’re…not doing well, why don’t you stay here tonight?” She suggested softly, her voice coming out as sweet as honey and you almost dropped dead there.

“Here?” You blurted out, feeling a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. “Like, with you and Nat?”

Natasha and Wanda shared an amused look, before nodding in unison. 

Your face crinkled, not really understanding what the looks were for but you assumed it was all in your head. Sparing one last glance at the two, you confirmed this was okay, searching for even the smallest bits of hesitancy or discomfort only to find nothing but welcoming smiles. 

With a small nod, barely audible, you murmured a hesitant “alright,” as you settled into the chair beside their bed, placing your feet on the small wooly ottoman.

Had your eyes been open, you might’ve noticed the way their faces dropped in disappointment. After months of obvious pining, not-so-subtle flirting thrown your way, you were choosing to sleep…not with them but on a chair.

A brief silence lingered, and you shifted in your seat. Even with your eyes closed, you could feel their eyes piercing and you were starting to sweat.

“Sorry,” You mumble, heat rising up your neck in embarrassment as you removed your feet off the ottoman, fearing you had overstepped. Still, their gazes remained unwavering and you rubbed your arm unsurely, “Is the chair off–limits too? I can take the floor if that’s better.”

“Dorogoy, we’re inviting you into our bed,” Natasha chuckles disbelievingly, fingers tracing the covers as to tempt you with the invitation. 

“Mhmm, yeah no. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” You shook your head, stumbling over your words. “I don’t do well in confined spaces with pretty women, I mean— no wait you are, both are super pretty but that’s not—“ 

Thankfully, Wanda interjected before you could embarrass yourself further with a giggle. You swore your stomach flipped. “Cute, but won’t you get cold?” She suggested, Natasha nodding and lifting the covers, adding, “It’s much warmer over here.”

Again, you waved them off and they were starting to get fed up with your excuses. “Oh nah! My suit has thermal heating installed, pretty cool right? Tony helped me insulate it–”

“Y/n, just get in the bed.”

Before you could protest further, you felt those warm red tendrils wrap around you, coaxing you into their bed, and you couldn’t even remember why you were fighting this in the first place when their arms wrapped around you. Not when their sheets were so warm, and their bodies warmer. 

Resistance be damned, as Natasha's hand ran gently through your hair, you relaxed into it, and both girls smiled. This was how things needed to be, always. 

Still, your heart was beyond nervous to even enjoy the moment but they were pushing at your shoulders to tuck you in further, getting settled themselves. They tangled their limbs with your own and it was official; there was definitely no escaping this. 

Pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, Wanda murmured a couple of words and you felt more comfortable clothes encase you. Natasha pressed a tender kiss to the shell of your ear before bidding you a good night.

You repeat her words back and they tighten their grip, closing their eyes. 

With exhaustion finally catching up to you, your eyes drooped helplessly again, fluttering shut, bones begging for sleep, and you finally surrendered to its embrace. Allowing yourself a moment of rest with the two people you treasure most in the world. 

And suddenly, crashing into windows didn’t seem so bad after all.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda my beloved #natasha x you #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x wanda #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n

[angelbaby-fics]

Cg stucky x little reader x little Peter where he is the older bro and very protective about his little sis and they go to the avenger tower but she is in babyspace and non-verbal and he won't let anyone near her and is like "nooooo she to tiny you make her owie" and when someone else than their caregivers try to pick her up he Hit the person and get punished by daddies

Baby's Bodyguard

Word Count: 800

A/N: This is such a sweet idea!!!! I love big bro Peter & there's gonna be a lot more of him coming in the future I think 💕 Also nobody yell at me but I haven't actually watched Hawkeye & I don't know anything about Kate imsosorry enjoy!! 💕

Joining the Rogers-Barnes family as their precious and littlest baby was the greatest thing that happened to everyone involved, but nobody took on a greater pride than your big bubba Peter. Steve and Bucky had been worried at first that he wouldn’t take it well, no longer being an only child and the absolute center of their attention. To their surprised delight, however, Peter took on his new older sibling responsibilities with a soldier’s pride. 

Any time you were out on an errand or playing in the park, Peter took it upon himself to keep a watchful eye on you, even though your daddies were more than capable. Whenever you weren’t in your daddies’ arms, you were holding Peter’s hand. At the playground, he’d go down the slide first to make sure it wasn’t too fast, and then wait at the bottom to catch you as you followed. When you ordered food in a restaurant, Peter always took the first bite to make sure it was safe. Well, maybe that one wasn’t as much about protection as it was getting an extra bite, but still. At parties and playdates it was a little easier for him to get distracted, but he always made sure you were within earshot.

That’s how you found yourself now, in one of the common rooms of the sprawling Avengers compound, stacking blocks into a castle while Peter half paid attention to Wanda’s game of pretend on the other side of the room, his focus divided between her and you. Steve was standing around the snack table talking to Bruce and Tony, while Bucky and Sam cracked open a couple of beers on the balcony. It wasn’t a party so much as a lively get-together, team members and family only. 

It also happened to be Kate’s first party with the gang. Kate had been kind to you the few times you had met her, engaged with you in your pretend games and played hide and seek around the compound with you and your friends, but you didn’t trust her all the way yet. She was new here, she didn’t know that the only ones you allowed to carry you were your daddies. When Tony announced that dinner was ready, she was the closest to you, so she picked you up to carry you into the dining room with everyone. She meant well, she handled you gently, but that meant nothing to you at this moment. 

Peter’s spidey senses noticed it first, the sharp intake of your breath as you started to wail. Poor Kate didn’t realize what was happening as everything unfolded. A sticky web splatted into the back of her shirt as Peter ran over to the two of you. 

“No! You put baby down!!” He shouted, smacking the side of Kate’s arm like a cat batting a toy; not enough to hurt her.

Kate let go of you as you flung yourself into Peter’s arms, now sobbing from both the fright of being picked up by a new person and the commotion that had followed it. Peter barely had time to comfort you when a strong voice rang out over the noise. 

“Hey!” Steve shouted, not needing to say anything else to get everyone in the room silent and staring at him. Even you had stopped crying when you saw your daddy enter the room. Peter immediately spoke out in your defense. 

“She was scaring baby!” He cried out, pointing an accusatory finger at Kate.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t! I was just bringing her to dinner!” Kate defended herself, desperately hoping the super soldier would understand. It wasn’t Steve she was worried about, though; Bucky was glaring at her with ice cold eyes. 

Steve placed a calming hand on his husband’s shoulder, calming him instantly.

“Alright, everybody calm down,” Steve said, his face softening as he turned to meet your eyes. “Are you hurt, babydoll?”

You shook your head, reaching out for your daddy’s arms. 

“I promise,” Kate said, “all I did was pick her up!” “I believe you.” Steve nodded. “She just doesn’t like getting picked up by anybody but her family. It's okay, you didn’t know yet.” Kate smiled, grateful for the forgiveness. Your tears had dried, your breathing had calmed, and your tummy had started to rumble. Steve gave you a kiss on the head, and with the chaos settled, everyone began to shuffle off to the dining room. Peter mingled in amongst them until he felt a cold hand on the back of his shirt. 

“Uh uh, not so fast kiddo,” Bucky warned, pulling the youngster aside. “I saw you hit Kate. That’s not nice and you know it.”

Peter looked down at his sneakers. “I’m sorry Baba,” he said dejectedly.

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to Kate. Bucky let Peter go, following him into the kitchen before adding: “and no dessert tonight!”

#little!reader #stucky x little!reader #agere fic #bucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky #daddy!bucky #marvel agere #peter x little!reader #stucky x little!peter #little!peter x little!reader #chloe's fic

[kurogxrix]

Hallway Runaways

Peter Parker x Stark!reader

IN WHICH you are on the verge of taking Peter’s virginity on your 18th birthday, but god forbid your father and teammates just have to interrupt the moment.

WC: 3.6k

Warnings: Mentions of sex, tony stark is a warning of his own, making out, reader is Tony’s adopted daughter, getting caught, semi-public sexual encounters, grinding.

The sound of your heels clicking against the cold tiled floor was all that could be heard resonating around the vacant hallway. Well that apart from the few sounds of complaint that’s left Peter’s mouth, as well as the muffled laughter that escaped yourself. You were more than done with this chase, the hallways were dark and you knew that Peter had a better advantage than you in this situation because of his enhanced senses.

Why was Peter Parker chasing you exactly? Well it had all started while the both of you were just a few floors below with the rest of the avengers, where you should’ve been right now. Today was finally your 18th birthday, and having Tony Stark as a father meant no little celebration. Even if it was just with the people that you considered family, he’d find a way to make everything extravagant and boujee. 

Though you had to admit as you looked past the overdoing of your father, it truly was an enjoyable evening in the company of the people you loved, a certain spiderman a little more than the others. Dinner was passed by a wonderful meal and a few dirty jokes made by none other than your father, making a reddish colour rise on Peter’s neck. You found his ability to get flustered by little to nothing so adorable, the cutest virgin that you knew, there was no doubt in that. 

Everyone was finally settled, apart from the constantly arguing Asgardian brothers, one of which Tony had begrudgingly invited. The sight of the innocent Peter trailing around with his eyes glued to his phone aroused an idea from the corners of your mind. He was most probably scrolling on some news report about Spiderman, given the goofy smile on his face, and he could most probably feel you sneaking up to him because of his spidey senses. Though he played into your game, allowing you to rip the phone from his oddly loose grip and run away from him, not without throwing in a tentative sentence to get him going. 

It wasn’t anything weird to Peter, although it should be. Two 18 year olds chasing one another like children down the halls of your father’s tower. It was even more absurd as you both got onto the tower's elevator, standing beside each other quietly like you both hadn’t been in a friendly chase. He wasn’t even sure that those stilettos of yours were meant for this chase, but he’d always be there to catch you heroically if you ever did fall back. 

Peter couldn’t help a smile from forming on his face as he watched your figure stagger before him, managing to catch yourself before slipping embarrassingly on your face. He observed the way you bent your knees slightly before turning to the curve, running straight as though you had a clear idea of where you wanted to go.

To be honest with himself, Peter had developed feelings for you ever since Tony had introduced the both of you. 

The smirk on your father’s face went unnoticed as you both stared at each other upon first meeting, unspeaking as you took in every single feature of the other in. His feelings only continued to grow for you as time went by, having his heart race manically against his ribcage as you treated his wounds with such intense care and a delicacy that he ignored you could hold, being a Stark and all. 

Now as he ran with you idiotically, the suit that he had borrowed from your father swaying with the speed, he couldn’t help but feel an intense feeling of ecstasy. You both rounded the corner before Peter had spotted it, the familiar view of your room door. He was no stranger to your intentions, hiding away behind your closed door with his unlocked phone in hand. Not like he had much to hide, just the thousand word essay of confessions that he sent to Ned about his feelings towards you, nothing to fret about. 

You let out a sound of surprise once you felt a pair of arms wrapping around your midsection, trapping you against a chiselled chest that you knew much of. It seemed like Peter’s mind had finally caught up on the fact that you could discover his very badly hidden feelings towards you as you held his phone in your hand.

“Thought you could get away from me? Must I remind you that I’m piderman?” Peter breathed out, his warm breath fanning your neck as he spoke. His hands were still gripping onto your hips unrelentlessly, making the option of you ripping away from his hold completely futile. Instead you opted with thrashing around in his arms, though the pair of you burst out laughing as you realised that your strength really was nothing compared to Peter’s. 

The fabric of your dress scrunched up around your middle as you struggled in his embrace, riding up your thighs as you felt the cool air hitting the previously covered area. Finally, the thrashing stopped as you gave up, leaning your whole body against Peter as you craned your neck back so that the top of your head was flushed against him. 

Peter gulped as he tried to ignore the feeling of you being so pressed up against him, in certain areas more than others. He closed his eyes for a second, head tilting upwards towards the ceiling as he audibly gulped. Aunt May had taught him to be a gentleman and to respect women, but god was it hard to retain the rush of blood ploughing towards his nethers as the girl of his dreams was literally  pushed up on him. 

Peter brought a hand up towards his head of curls, running a hand through them as he tried to soothe his nerves. God forbid he popped a boner right there against you, in the middle of the fucking hallways. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever mentally recover if it did happen, or even worse, if you reacted badly to it. Who was he kidding, of course you’d react badly to your best friend being completely bricked up from just playing fight with yo-

“Peter…” the whisper of his name brought him back to the current moment, his mind hesitating at your tone. You moved your body slightly to meet his gaze, and at that moment Peter had understood why you had called out for him. 

Shit

He nearly let out a satisfied groan as your hips brushed against his, but he managed to save himself from further embarrassment. He was frozen in fear, unwilling to believe that his body had betrayed him in such a way. Though Peter was able to keep his spiderman secret away from many people, the evident tent in his pants was much harder to hide. Especially when you had already seen it, yet even felt it. 

Oh and how much he wished for the floor to open up and swallow him whole at the moment, until the soft touch of your hand on his arm woke him up from his pity party. 

“Hey, what’s going on in that little brain of yours?” you attempted to joke, bringing a closed fist up towards his head as you knocked on it. Peter tried to stifle a tiny laugh as you joked about the size of his brain, that for sure was anything but little. “You don’t have to be ashamed Peter, I-I mean things like this are natural and you can’t control it at times.” 

You tried to reassure him, bringing a hand to caress the man’s cheek softly. Though his eyes were still full of humiliation and discomfort, looking for some sort of exit that he could run off to if anything went bad. 

“If anything I apologise, I shouldn't have been all pressed up against you like this..” you knew that it was stupid of you to apologise, given that you had nothing to be sorry for, but you weren’t about to let your bestfriend drown in embarrassment any longer. 

“No-no I mean, I'm the one that pulled you in and everything…” he looked away, avoiding your gaze at all cost as he spoke slowly. “Look, I’m so-so sorr-“ 

You cut off the rambling boy with the smooth slip of your lips against his, knocking him back slightly as he nearly stumbled from shock. He looked like the cutest idiot like this, his eyes wide open as he stared down at you to confirm if this was all real, though your eyes were closed, he reckoned that he should be doing the same. Once the initial surprise had passed him, Peter allowed himself to lean into the kiss more. His hands hesitantly but firmly regained their position onto your hips as he squeezed the flesh there, scrunching the already out-of-place, heightened fabric of your dress. 

Your lips were so soft and they moved fluidly against his own, like they were meant to be together. Peter couldn’t help himself but pull you flush against him once he felt your arms wrapping against his neck, pulling out an audible gasp out of you as his little problem resurfaced once more. 

Breaking the kiss, you both couldn’t help but burst out laughing for whatever reason. Maybe from the stupid flow of events, or most probably because Thor had slipped (with much consent) some of his Asgardian alcohol into your drinks. Whatever, it helped cease the previous tension that was drowning you both, now reduced to dust as you both stared into each other’s eyes so tenderly. 

“I always knew you had a little something for me, Spider-man.” you teased Peter, bringing your other hand up to caress the soft skin of his cheeks. Holding back the urge to giggle at the rise of pinkish colour along his neck, you leaned impossibly closer to him. 

“Oh and please, if by little you mean enormous, then sure u do!” Peter joked, making the both of you double over with laughter. Somewhat his joke was not even close to being funny, but something about this moment made everything that came out of Peter’s mouth so amusing to you. 

Suddenly, Peter’s laughter was cut short as he felt your hand dip from his cheeks and onto the area at the back of his neck. He suppressed a shudder as you ran your fingers up and down across the shorter hairs at the back of his head, and his smile dropped completely as his eyes crossed your own. God, that extreme feeling of nervousness was resurfacing and suddenly, the tightness in his pants was made 100x more aware. 

“I can help you with that, if you want me to.” you whispered quietly as if you were talking to yourself, but Peter had heard you as clear as day. The hairs on his arms raised at your choice of words, he knew exactly what you meant, and damn was he ready for it. The look in your eyes just screamed ‘desire’ to Peter, and he’d be lying if he said his didn’t reflect the same feeling. The shy little nod of his head made you chuckle slightly to yourself. 

His chest tightened as one of your hands lowered towards his abdomen, caressing your way down his body. You maintained eye contact with him all the way down his stomach, searching in them if this was okay for you to do. His eyes were unrelenting, swirling with passion as he gave you the go to continue your hand’s trail. 

Your left hand ended up on his upper thigh, teasing Peter as you were millimetres away from relieving the ache in his pants. You couldn’t help but admit that the fine material of your father’s pants (Tony had passed them to Peter because let’s be real, he was too broke to afford his own) felt uncomfortable under your own fingertips. You wanted to feel skin, raw, naked skin belonging to the boy that was currently looming over you. 

Your other hand was still busy playing with Peter’s hair as his were still glued to your hips. Without any type of warning, Peter pursued your lips in a bruising kiss. The sheer force of the kiss nearly sent you tumbling back, but his strong grip kept you grounded. Peter kissed you with a passion that you ignored a virgin boy could hold, you could only imagine the things that he was going to do to you. Or the things that he wishes you would do to him.

Top or bottom tonight, it didn’t matter to you. As long as you got to spend the night with the boy that haunted your feelings, then you’d be able to die happy. 

You both kissed until you felt your lungs yelling at you for air, breaking away reluctantly from each other to breathe in loudly. His lips didn’t stray much further as they were back on yours just as quickly as they left. Unexpectedly, you dipped your hand a little lower to cup the bulge in Peter’s pants, urging for any type of reaction from him. His first instinct was to gasp, the feeling of your touch felt so gratifying after the minutes spent ignoring his little problem. 

You wasted no time to take advantage of his newfound pleasured state, slipping your tongue into his mouth as you led the kiss. Peter was quick to recover after that, his tongue fighting against yours for dominance. He was a little sloppy, and you could tell that he had kissed before but never to this extent. You weren’t complaining though, his eagerness sent a sharp tingly feeling towards your core. 

The hushed groans and moan that left Peter’s mouth as you continuously rubbed him felt like music to your ears. He was definitely a very vocal man in that domain, and you were going to enjoy every single second of it. It was your turn to groan as you felt Peter’s hands pushing you towards the walls of the hallway, trapping you between his arms as you continued your assault in each other’s mouth. 

When your lungs began to burn once more, your mouth left the man’s to rest your face in between the crook of his neck. He was so close to you, close enough that you could feel his hardened cock brushing against your lower stomach. You could hear his laboured breathing picking up the pace as you rubbed him faster, getting enough of the pieces of fabric that was separating you both. 

Your hand rushed towards the buckle of his belt, only to stutter halfway as you wondered if he was actually ready for all of this. You didn’t want Peter to wake up tomorrow regretting everything that had happened between you two, you weren’t sure that your heart could handle the heartbreak. Though at the feeling of Peter’s lips leaving slobbery kisses against your neck, you knew that he was more than ready for it. 

Without further hesitation, his buckle fell easily under your skilled fingers. Pulling the leather stripe from the belt loops made Peter’s hips collide with yours once more, making your movements rush with anticipation. Oh and you were so close to finally touching him, giving the man the release that he desired and deserved so much. Your hand pulled as his zipper, dipping into his pants just when-

“Wow-“ the familiar booming voice had you both freezing for a second, before you quickly rushed off each other. Peter was sure that his cheeks must’ve been beet red, not only from the previous rush of hands and feelings, but from the fact that you had both been caught by no other than your father. 

You brushed your dress down, fixing the fabric that had scrunched up under his grip. You were burning with embarrassment, and as much as you wished that you didn’t need to face your father, you knew that you had to be the first one to do it. Peter was still busy fumbling with his belt, the leathery fabric slipping under his sweaty, anxious fingers. 

As you turned around to see the probably disgusted face of your father, you were met with the sight of not one, but two other Avengers. Thor, that was probably too shit-faced to even remember this event by tomorrow morning, and the poor bruce that had most probably been dragged here against his will. If you didn’t wanna kill yourself before, this definitely made you want to start digging your own grave. 

“I see that you two have found each other, given that we were all searching for you both earlier.” Tony teased, as per usual. Even after finding his daughter in such a compromising position with his intern, his first instinct was to tease you both about it. Sure enough, the disgusted expression did come afterwards.  

“I’m sure they found waaaay more than just each other!” Thor laughed loudly, patting your father harshly amongst the bag with those huge arms. You watched as your dad threw the Asgardian man a look while Bruce simply smiled sympathetically at you both. Now that Peter had finally been able to fasten his belt, he was now standing besides you with a mirroring guilty expression. Maybe, making out as two horny young-adults in the middle of the hallways was not the ideal thing to do after all. 

You both snapped your heads back towards Tony as he cleared his throat. Now that he had stopped moving weirdly to retain Thor from hitting him on the back once more, you noticed the cold bottle of champagne that was gripped tightly between his fingers. The expensive bottle cost nearly nothing to the billionaire, he lifted it in the air for you both to see, unafraid of it falling to its peril. 

“We came looking for you both to cut the cake and have a drink, but it seems like you two were a little busy,” Tony raised his eyebrows at Peter, his eyes shaded by his dark glasses. You could hear a slight tone of irritation in his voice, but after all what dad wouldn't be after catching his daughter fondling with some guy in plain air. He sighed at both of your silences, clearly too embarrassed to even form the words. 

After a few seconds of further awkward silence, you watched as your father tumbled through his pocket in the search of something. Checking every single of his suit pockets, he finally found what he was looking for. 

“That’s for you, boy.” was all that came out from Tony’s mouth as he pulled out a piece of square packaging from his pocket, throwing it towards Peter, who caught it square with the help of his abilities. His eyes widened at the packaged condom that now sat flat on his hands, fumbling to put it in his pocket as he tried to mutter something back to your father, although he was quicker than Peter. He always was. 

“Don’t need no lil’ Parker’s runnin’ wild round this tower anytime soon, one’s already enough,” he teased, whispering the last part to himself. “Now, I'm gonna call you both in around 10 minutes for all of us to gather. No Fonduing with my daughter in that time-range, got it Underoos?” 

Although your father’s tone was playful at the start of his sentence, you could see his stare harden as he finished. You were drowning in embarrassment from the moment that they had walked in on you both, and your father running his mouth just made you sink further down the waters of shame. Finally, after what felt like hours, you were rejoiced to see the backs of your father and teammates as they walked back towards the elevator. 

You heard Peter release a loud breath of relief once the elevator tinged, shoving your hands towards your face as you tried to shove the embarrassment away. Great, you were most likely sure that this whole thing had killed Peter’s boner. You wanted nothing more than to give him a memorable moment for his first time, but it seemed like life was really against you. 

“Hey…” you flinched as you felt Peter’s hand upon your shoulder, suddenly turning around to meet his face. There was guilt swirling all up in his beautiful brown iris, even though none of this was his fault. 

“I’m sorry for…all of this,” you mention towards the area where the 3 Avengers previously were, making Peter chuckle. “It’s a mood killer I know, I just wanted you to have a good time.” you looked down, all the previous feelings catching up to you. 

“Aye, aye, aye. None of that!” Peter urged forward, gripping your jaw gently into his hand, the other resting softly on your cheek. You couldn’t help the smile that drew itself on your face at his actions, always such a gentleman despite the situation. He smiled right back at you, and you felt your heart race at the view. Nobody could lie and say that Peter wasn’t an attractive man, everything about him was desirable and you wanted to prove that to him. 

“If anything, the mood is definitely not killed.” he muttered, making you tilt your head to the side in confusion of his words before he pulled you in again by the hips. You gasped as you felt it, his arousal that poked you once more by the lower stomach. Peter chuckled at your expression, feeling the newfound confidence radiating off his body. 

“We can't fondue right now, but there’s a whole world of other things that I can show you in under 10 minutes.” Peter looked down into your list filled eyes as you sunk onto your knees. He gulped and damn if you didn’t show him a whole new world tonight, you offered him the whole galaxy. 

-

this didn’t take the romantic turn that i was expecting it to but oh well.

#peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x stark!reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #tom holland x reader #stark!reader #peter parker smut #peter parker #peter parker oneshot #tom holland #marvel

[tetchyorchid]

A soulmate au where the first words you say to your mate is tattooed on their skin, words can change if the meeting is postponed or delayed.

Tony grew up with the words "Dr. Stark, it is an honor to meet you. I read your latest paper!" On his arm. It was never a question that he would get his doctorate. It gave him motivation when school was boring. It made him stay invested in being active in the scientific community after Ironman. He didn't even realize that the words had changed until after all the bots had been handled. Just another reason to hate Justin Hammer, his bullshit with Vanko stopped him from meeting his mate!

"It's you!" Replaced his old words, so he will meet but in ths future but he couldn't help feeling bitter.

Peter had, "God you're cute" On his finger most his life. He wondered about the type of person that says that first thing. Was it a cat call? Would they know I'm their mate? Whenever he felt insecure he remembered his mate will like him and it makes him feel better.

"Thanks for the assist spidey" appears after the expo and it doesn't make sense, not for a few months until the field trip...

Doom bots are super annoying, but it is pretty cool working with the Avengers. As we wrap up and restrain the last of them Iron man touches down near him and calls out" Thanks for the assist spidey " And Peter almost blurts out the first thing that comes to mind but hulk roars startling everyone for and giving peter a moment to think.

Deciding to be bold he walks over to Tony who has his face plate up. "You okay underoos?" Looking tony dead in his eye, Peter smirks and says, "Property of Mr. Peter Stark."

Tony isn't a genius for nothing so when he feels his arm burn and hears peter speak, he pulls back the gauntlet and laughs at the audacity! "Stark huh?"

"I'm playing the long game."

"God, you're cute!"

#starker #tnpt #soulmate words #fanfic ideas

[6rookie-writer0110]

Same love

Peter Parker x Male Reader

Request: Tom Peter Parker x male Kryptonian reader, them reuniting with a kiss in the final battle then fighting together (in the endgame battle)

Peter managed to get the Gauntlet, now Thanos is trying to get it back. Peter is trying to get to Tony, but Thanos is going after Peter. Some of Thanos’ army start to chase Peter. Valkyrie, Carol, and Drax stepped in to fight the enemies then Wanda started to use her magic. Carol grabbed the gauntlet and she helped Peter stand up.

“Are you okay?” Carol asked.

“Yeah, I'm okay. I'm Spiderman” Peter smiled.

“You can call me, Carol,” Carol said.

She starts to help Peter and she uses he powers to fight the enemies. They managed to give the gauntlet to Tony. Then Tony snapped his fingers and everyone watched a portal open. Everyone starts to come out of the portal and Thanos is angry.

You come out of the portal. You don't remember what happened but you see everyone fighting a huge purple guy.

“Peter,” You said to yourself.

You use flight and you start to look for Peter. While looking for him, you used your lasers to kill the enemies.

“Y/n!” Peter yelled.

You see him and you fly towards him. Then he puts his hands on your face and he can't stop smiling.

“You are back! I missed you so much” Peter smiled.

He kissed you on the lips and he hugged you tight. You wrap your arms around him and you are happy to see him.

“I don't remember what happened. What is going on” You said.

“I will tell you later, Y/n. We have to stop the purple guy named Thanos” Peter said.

“Okay,” You said.

You are Kryptonian and you got caught in the snap. Peter is your boyfriend and you always knew that he is Spiderman and wants to be a part of the Avengers. And you know how much Peter cares about Tony Stark.

You help Peter fight the aliens. Drax tries to fight you but Peter tells him that you are the good guy.

“Blades can't hurt me,” You said.

“Next time, we will find out if it's true,” Drax said.

“Ummm, okay?” You said.

You and Drax start to fight alongside killing the enemies. He starts to off then he tells you how strong he is.

“I do have a name,” You said.

“Yes, I know. That's why I call you, laser boy” Drax said.

“It’s Y/n,” You said.

Peter couldn't help to laugh.

✬ ✬ ✬ ✬

After the battle, you and Peter are alone in his bedroom.

“What do you remember?” Peter asked.

“I just remember waiting for you at the movie theater for our date,” You said.

“Y/n, that happened five years ago. That day, I was in space when it happened” Peter said.

“No, way. What?” You said.

“Okay, Thanos got the gauntlet then he snapped his fingers. You got caught in the snap and half of the world went away. But some people call it the ‘blip’ and yes I was in space with Tony Stark” Peter said.

“This is a lot to process,” You said.

Peter starts to explain what happened and how he went to space. You are still speechless and you have so many questions.

—-—

You and Peter are home and he is being really affectionate with you. You and Peter are on the couch, and instead of watching the movie you and Peter start to kiss each other. He starts to kiss your neck then you start to kiss him on the lips again.

“I’m happy that you are back” Peter smiled.

“Me too. Feels strange that everyone is on a different timeline than me” You said.

“It will take a while to get used to, Y/n. How about we go out and have fun?” Peter said.

“I like that idea” You smiled.

It started to snow while you and Peter, were outside. You and Peter start to play in the snow, then start to throw snowballs at each other.

“You can't use your speed, Y/n” Peter laughed.

“You are just jealous, that I have speed” You laughed.

Peter’s spidey sense went up.

“There’s trouble,” Peter said.

“Alright, let's go,” You said.

You and Peter went into a dark alley. You changed clothes and he did the same. You picked up Peter in a bridal style and used flight to get to the crime scene faster.

“I missed you doing this to me and don't tell anyone,” Peter said.

“I won't tell anyone” You giggle.

Arriving at the crime scene, you let go of Peter. He jumped down and kicked the robber in the chest, then you used your lasers to destroy the wheels on their van. They have guns and you use yourself as a shield to protect Peter. Then Peter used his webs to tie up the robbers and the police arrived.

After that, you and Peter go home. You and Peter moved in together not that long ago.

“Tonight, I'm going to cook for you,” Peter said.

“Making sandwiches for dinner is not cooking,” You said.

“Y/n, I'm still going to cook and you will love it” Peter smirked.

“Okay, I'm ready for dinner,” You said.

You watched Peter start cooking. You did help cut the vegetables and you used your speed, to cut the tomatoes fast.

“Show off,” Peter said.

You just laughed then you watched him grill the chicken. When he finished, you tried the food

“Wow, this is good,” You said.

“See, I just proved you wrong” Peter smiled.

Then he kissed you on the cheek. You and Peter eat together and he tells what else he learned to cook.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x male reader #x male reader #male!reader #male reader #peter parker fluff #marvel x male reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman x male reader #spiderman x reader

[wolfmoonmusic]

Can I get MCU!peter Parker x female reader fluff where they had been dating in secret for a few months before they get caught sneaking into each other’s room at night by your choice and they finally decide to tell the avengers and just pure fluff at the end thank you 😘😘

Love, nonny 💕💕

Juice Pops

A/N: I tweaked it just a bit. Hope you like it!

Summary: You and Peter decided to keep things quiet. That is, until a certain 5 year old decided even juice pops couldn’t stop her from telling her dad about the weird things she’d heard and seen.

Pairing: MCU! Peter Parker x reader, Avengers x teen!reader, Bucky x teen!kinda-sister!reader

w/c:2700+

Warnings: PURE FLUFF, reader is an orphan, thought it’s only mentioned once. All avengers are alive. No one dies. Period.

Masterlist

Taglist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3

Peter Parker was the sweetest human being ever. He was an amazing friend too, but he was the best boyfriend.

You’d joined the avengers a little after he had, after your best friend Lila Barton had seen your sparring skills when she’d come to watch one day. One thing led to another and you’d become the youngest agent on the team. When you and Peter met, you’d hit it off immediately. 

Currently you were seated in your room in the tower, struggling with calculus when said boy scrambled through your window.

“Baby you have no idea what happened today,” he started, dropping his bag on the bed, pulling off his mask, full of excitement. You stopped, getting up and turning to him as he wrapped his hands around your waist, your own resting on his shoulders. “Yeah? What’d I miss?” you asked, a goofy smile on your face.

“I got an old lady a taco for free, courtesy of the suit,” he grinned.

You laughed, dropping your head to rest on his shoulder. He smelled like a tree. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer to his chest, as if that was even possible. 

“I missed you,” he whispered, one hand resting on your head, as the other wrapped itself around your torso. 

“Me too, spidey,” you responded, lips sending a wave of goosebumps over his skin, as you placed a soft kiss on his neck.

You both went to different schools, which meant you only saw each other at the tower. However, no one else knew about the relationship, because you were afraid of their reactions.

Except Ned. And Lila.

Which meant that you had to keep things subtle.

Which also meant you weren’t supposed to cast loving glances or wink at each other. 

You weren’t supposed to. But what else were Ned and Lila around for?

Peter pulled away slightly, just so that he could see your face, your bodies still flush against each other’s.  He cupped your jaw, kissing your forehead first, before his lips met yours. Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging slightly. He moaned, grabbing your lower lip with his teeth, tugging slightly, his hands sliding down the curve of your body, down till your hip, before squeezing it lightly. 

You both pulled away after a few minutes, gasping for air, lips swollen and cheeks red. Just as you were about to reconnect, you heard a knock on your door. Both of your eyes widened in panic, before Peter quickly dived under your bed, relying on the shadows to hide him.

You straightened yourself out before quickly opening the door, to find a very amused looking Bucky staring back at you. “Y’alright kid?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips. You tried to move slightly, trying to cover your bed as much as possible.

“Yup! Perfectly, perfectly fine,” you said, hoping he hadn’t heard anything. He nodded, that damn smirk never leaving his face. “Alright then, dinner’s ready,” he told you, peeking past you into your room, before turning around and leaving. 

You quickly spun around shutting the door and leaning against it. Peter crawled out from under the bed, dusting himself off before giving you a panicked look. You shook your head, “Even if he heard, he won’t spill the beans.” you assured him. 

Bucky had quickly become like an older brother to you, taking you under his wing when they all found out you didn’t have any parents. He’d done everything for you, from showing you the ropes of handling yourself on the field, to trying (and failing) to help you with homework. He’d even threatened a few boys that had been after you. You wouldn’t be surprised if he knew, but were confident he wouldn’t tell. However, he and Peter never seemed to get along, so it did seem off that he hadn’t lectured you about it yet.

Maybe he didn’t know as much as you thought. Or maybe he suspected it was someone else.

It was definitely the second one. You knew how much Bucky disliked Peter, and he probably trusted that you wouldn't date him.

You felt the teensiest bit guilty.

“I should get down to dinner,” you said, walking up to your boyfriend. He nodded, the disappointment on his face evident. “I’m sorry. You should go home for dinner too. Come back after, yeah?” you asked, holding his face in your hands. He nodded again, “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

He pressed his lips to yours once more, before grabbing his bag and jumping out the window. You ran over, watching as he swung away into the night, before closing, and pulling the blinds, then making your way downstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Princessa, please explain to my sister that she is absolutely wrong,” Pietro pleaded, pointing to Wanda with his fork.

“I am not! N/n tell him that he’s the one who’s wrong,” Wanda replied, staring angrily at her brother.

They were talking about Wanda’s cooking.

Pietro hated it.

The team was divided, exactly half supporting one of the siblings each, so naturally Pietro looked to you for help. 

You held your hands up in defense, “Don’t ask me. I need food. As long as I get it, I’m not judging,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“But if you had to choose?” Pietro asked, waving his fork around.

You pretended to ponder your choices for a minute, before shrugging, “If I had to,” you dragged, looking between the both of them before your eyes settled on Wanda. Her face lit up - “it’d be Pietro,” you said, raising your hand as he gave you a high-five. Wanda frowned, “I should’ve known. Of course you’d support him! I’m not helping you with homework anymore!”

You stared at her, mouth agape. “Don’t bring my homework into this,” you warned, waving your fork in her face. She just shrugged before continuing to eat.

The entire table erupted in laughter, Wanda and yourself included. 

After eating, you quickly ran up to your room, finding Peter already waiting on your bed.

“You’re lucky no one else can open this door without my permission,” you told him, climbing in next to him. He pulled you into his chest, a hand on your shoulder and the other on your waist. You sighed, letting yourself relax.

He ran a hand through your hair, “How was your day?” he asked quietly.

You hummed, “It was good. Calculus sucks though.”

You felt the vibrations of his laughter in his chest, “Yeah, it’s a tough one.”

You felt yourself slipping into a slumber, soft lips against your forehead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ms.L/N, Ms.Stark wants entry into your room,” FRIDAY announced, your eyes snapping open. 

You groaned, “Let her in.”

The little girl walked into your room as the door opened, bare feet against the cold morning tile.

She paused a few feet away from your bed as you sat up stretching, “What’s up Mickey?” you asked. The nickname coming from her obsession with Mickey Mouse. 

“Why is Petey in your bed?”

Your eyes widened in shock, head spinning around to find Peter asleep in your bed.

Oh shit.

“Uhhh,” you had to think fast, “He was helping me with uh-with- with homework and he - um- he got tired - and he- he just fell a-asleep here. Yeah.” you said nodding, satisfied with your answer. How suspicious could a 5-year old be?

But that’s when Peter woke up.

He sat up stretching, wrapping his arms around you, before pressing a kiss to the side of your chest. “Good Morning, baby.”

The panic in your chest grew.

Morgan stared at you for a minute, “Why did he just call you baby then?”

Yep. You were fucked.

Peter seemed to have realized what was going on then, because he immediately backed away, back hitting the wall. You turned to glare at him, as he shot you an apologetic look.

“Okay, okay, Morgan look. You can’t tell anyone.” you said, getting off the bed to kneel in front of her.

She blinked, “It’s a secwet?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s a secret,” you said, nodding.

She put her tiny finger on her chin, tapping slowly, looking away, thinking about it.

You hated how a 5 year old was making you feel so terrified, right now.

She looked at you, the most sinister smile a kid could muster, forming on her lips. “Then, you get me all the free juice pops I want. Whenever, I want” she said.

Dammit, she was good.

You nodded. You had no choice. 

She gave you a tight nod, before prancing out of the room, the actual reason she’d walked in long forgotten.

“We’re fucked,” your boyfriend said, letting out a breath of air.

“You think?!” you asked, spinning around.

He held his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t know! I literally just woke up!”

You shook your head. “Whatever. We just have to,” you waved your hands around, “give her what she wants,” you sighed.

“She’ll get sick.”

“Do YOU want to explain to Mr.Stark why you’re dating the newest recruit?” you asked, pointing to him.

He shook his head frantically. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, running a hand through your hair. 

“So, what now?” he asked, climbing off of your bed.

You looked at the wall clock, sighing. “Now, we have school,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

Peter nods. “See you after school?”

You nod, pulling him in for a quick kiss, before you both bid each other goodbye and he was out your window.

Today’s gonna be a long day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’d managed to force Lila into coming to the tower with you, surprising Clint a little.

“You girls alright?” he asks, watching his daughter walk in with you.

“We’re fine dad, we’re gonna go study,” Lila assures him, pushing you towards the stairs. 

“She just doesn’t wanna go see her boyfriend right now, Mr.Barton!” you yell, Lila hitting you immediately, eyes narrowed, “Shut up!”

You’d basically called her in as a reinforcement. 

Within 5 minutes of you entering your room, Morgan made her way in.

The fear you felt for this child was unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

“Juice pop,” she declared. You sighed, getting off the bed, as Lila started snickering. You shot her a look over your shoulder as you guided Morgan towards the kitchen. Luckily, there was no one there. 

You got her the flavor she wanted, and she skipped off again. You thought the worst of it was over.

Boy, were you wrong.

She came back twice before dinner.

The second time, Sam saw you give her one.

The third time, it was Steve.

“I swear if she comes back again, I’m gonna blow,” you whispered to Lila on your way down.

Peter was helping Natasha and Pepper set up the table, and you quietly joined them, trying to signal to Peter that things were going well so far. It was one of the days when he ate over at the tower, but you hoped it wouldn’t mess things up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morgan decided she wanted to sit around with all of the “big people” today.

Her eyes wouldn’t leave you and Peter.

The second you finished eating, is when hell struck.

“Y/N, I want a juice pop,” she said grinning.

Oh boy.

“Morgan, you already had one,” Steve said.

“She did?” Tony asked.

“Two,” Sam said, holding up two fingers.

“What?!” Pepper asked, shocked.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

“Wrong!” Morgan giggled. Your eyes snapped to her, trying to warn her.

She held up 3 fingers. “I had thwee.”

That little-

You looked at Lila with pleading eyes, but you could tell that even she didn’t know what to do.

The panic in your chest grew, the adults talking over each other as your eyes found Peter, the same thoughts circling his mind.

We’re done for.

“Morgan, honey, who gave you those?” Tony asked.

Don't say Y/N. Don't say Y/N. Don't -

“Y/N”

Annnd she said Y/N.

All heads turned to you.

You looked at Morgan. You were still safe. As long as she didn’t-

“And if she doesn’t give me one more, I’m telling everyone her wittle secret.”

Your eyes widened, landing on a very terrified looking Peter.

“What secret? You might as well spill ‘cause you’re not getting anymore juice pops,” Tony declared, eyes narrowing as he looked at you.

Morgan shrugged, “Petey called Y/N baby,” she giggled, “and they were sleeping together.” 

You wished you could make like Scott and just disappear.

“What?!” Bucky yelled.

“We weren’t having sex, I swear!” Peter blurted out.

“What’s sex?” Morgan asked.

“Not in front of the kid!” Pepper exclaimed, dragging Morgan away.

“You were sleeping on her bed?” Clint asked.

“They were just sleeping, dad!”

“Lila, you knew?!”

“FRIDAY, how come I didn’t get any reports of Peter coming in through the window or something?”

“It’s not necessarily a safety hazard, sir.”

“Yeah, well from now on it is.”

“Noted, sir”

You looked around as everyone started talking over each other. You couldn’t think, not in this noise.

“OKAY!” you yelled, silencing everyone.

You looked at Peter, “The cat’s out of the bag,” you muttered.

“Hell yeah. So, care to explain?” Buck asked. You could tell he was mad.

You let out a shaky breath, “We,” you said pointing between you and Peter, “are dating.”

The table was eerily quiet. No one said a word.

“We didn’t know how you would react. We knew some of you,” Peter paused, looking at Bucky, “wouldn’t like it very much.” 

“Alright.” Steve nodded, “The three of you get out of here, the adults need to talk,” he pointed to you, Peter and Lila. 

“And stay downstairs where we can see you,” Bucky ordered.

You all nodded, before slipping away quietly.

Lila tried to comfort you both, but you were still scared. You didn’t like the way Bucky had been looking at you. Almost, like he’d felt… betrayed. You knew they wouldn’t tell you to break up, but you were worried that it would weaken your relationship with Bucky.

When they called the three of you out, you could still see the fire in his eyes. And as expected, the verdict was not that bad.

“Just - keep your door open,” Tony said, tiredly rubbing his face, “and you,” he pointed to Peter, “use the goddamn front door.” 

“You got that?” Steve asked.

You both nodded.

“That’s enough drama for one night, you guys should go to sleep,” Bruce said. 

You looked to Peter, and he hesitantly came over, giving you a hug, his chin against your head. “We’re okay,” he whispered. 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ll text you,” he said, pulling away. You nodded, his eyes flickered to your lips, but you shook your head.

Not in front of everyone. Definitely not now.

He seemed to understand, and so he just quietly walked away, bidding everyone a good night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was past 11pm and you still couldn’t sleep.

You were worried about Bucky being mad at you.

You got out of bed, “FRIDAY, is Bucky asleep?” you asked. 

“No he isn’t, Ms. L/N. He is in his room, however”

You nodded, making your way out of your room and over to his. You knocked in his door, and it swung open after a few moments.

“Y/N?” Bucky asked, looking tired.

“Are you mad at me?” you questioned, your voice breaking slightly.

“What? No,” he said, pulling you into his room.

You both walked over to his bed, sitting down side by side.

“Why would you think that?” he asked, looking at you.

“ ‘Cause you don’t like Peter,” you said matter - of - factly.

He laughed. “You’re right, but I mean, if he’s making you happy,” he shrugged, “who am I to judge?” 

“Really?”

“Yes, but," he said pointing to you, suddenly looking serious, “if he hurts you - ”

“You’ll break his neck?” you asked, grinning. 

He tilted his head to the side, “I was gonna say, I’ll mess up his pretty little face but sure, you’ve got a better idea.”

“Bucky!” you gasped.

He burst out laughing again, and this time you joined in.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you asked after a minute, making your best puppy face.

“Y/N” he groaned.

“Please! I swear I won’t pull all of the blanket off of you this time!” you said, joining your hands in a prayer-like manner.

He looked at you, clearly not trusting you.

“And I’ll never hide something from you again. I promise.”

“Deal” he said, climbing over to his side of the bed.

“That’s all it took?” you asked, laughing, and laying down next to him.

“Hey! I’m a simple man!” he said feigning shock.

You scoffed, “A simple man who hates a teenager.”

“A simple man who hates Peter Parker. There’s a difference,” he said, holding up his finger.

“Oh shut up Barnes!”

#x reader #fluff #marvel #x you #x you fluff #mcu!peter parker #marvel x y/n #avengers x reader #avengers x teen!reader #bucky barnes x reader #avengers x yn #peter parker fluff #peter parker #spiderman #peter parker x reader #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #avengers #spiderman x y/n #peter parker x you #mcu spiderman

[ironspiderfics]

someone else living in his skin

by @iron--spider for @shoyzz-art

~

Peter slides up alongside Rhodey, and Rhodey startles.

There’s a cacophony of twinkling glasses and chairs being pulled out and whatever weird jazz music playlist Tony’s got playing, and all of it seems loud, in Peter’s ears. Shaking his nerves. 

“Jesus Christ,” Rhodey says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What are you doing? I thought you were putting out table numbers—”

“Do you think he’s acting shifty?” Peter asks, calmly as he can.

He’s calm. Why wouldn’t he be calm?

His eyes are locked on Tony. 

They’re in the middle of setting up this mini gala event, the opening for Stark’s new research facility in the Lower East Side. It’s gonna create hundreds of jobs and scholarships and internships and it’s gonna be a really good thing, partnering with the museums and businesses in the area. Peter’s actually really excited because he’s got the title of ‘Lead Researcher’ for the intern pool, whatever that winds up meaning from day to day, and he thought Tony would be really excited too. He loves celebrations, he loves new opportunities and helping people, but—

But for the last two days he’s been…different.

He’s been…off.

But Peter’s calm. He’s calm about it. There’s no reason why he shouldn’t be calm.

His eye is just twitching a little bit.

Rhodey looks at Tony, and then he looks at Peter, and then he looks at Tony again. He narrows his eyes, like he’s trying to assess the situation. 

“He’s just—I don’t know,” Peter says, blowing out a breath. He wrings his hands together and cracks his jaw. 

“Is this a spidey sense thing?” Rhodey asks, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Peter shrugs, still watching him. Tony is sort of looming around—straightening a table cloth here, pushing in a chair there, glancing over his shoulder like he thinks someone is watching him. He’s sweating more than normal. 

“A little bit of that, a little bit of—just—he’s acting weird,” Peter says. “Not acting like himself, I guess ever since the other night when that guy tried to break in—”

“But we dealt with that,” Rhodey says, looking at him. “It was in and out—cops came, got the guy—”

“Right, I know, but it’s been since then he’s just been like—I don’t know,” Peter says, blowing out a breath. “Like he—the other night, he forgot that I already graduated, he was asking me when I was gonna graduate—”

“We all forget that,” Rhodey says, raising his eyebrow at him. “You’re perpetually twelve—”

“You didn’t even know me when I was twelve—”

“You’re twelve now—”

Peter sighs. “Well, he normally remembers, and he was the one at my graduation screaming and yelling and making a big scene so, that’s not really—easily forgotten, and he was being weird about Spider-Man the other day—”

“Weird how?” Rhodey asks, turning towards him completely, now. “Because he’s always weird about Spider-Man. Every other day he’s messaging me like how do we convince Peter to retire?”

Peter clicks his tongue. “Asking me things he knows. Like how I make my webs and which suit is my favorite and—I don’t know, stuff like that. Weird stuff.”

“You’ve been staying at the compound since that guy tried to break in?”

“Yeah,” Peter says. “Me and May both, the apartment has that infestation, everybody’s out for at least a week.” 

He clears his throat. The guy trying to break in was weird—he seemed normal, no powers, no real intentions, he got pretty far but was taken down fast, and he didn’t seem at all—fazed, by any of it. He was even polite. 

Maybe it got under Tony’s skin? A lot of stuff like that does. They’ve been through enough, with the dying, coming back again two years later, him nearly dying trying to fix it all—a petty thief trying to get into an Avengers compound is just the kind of irritation that might set him off. Last straw kinda deal.

Rhodey stares over at Tony again, and Peter looks too. Tony is being twitchy. He’s talking to waiters and he’s got his hands behind his back and his fingers are twitching. 

“Has Pepper said anything to you?” Rhodey asks.

“Has Pepper said anything to you?” Peter asks, raising his eyebrows. “Because she’s more likely—I mean, with me, we talk about MIT, when I start, how my summer’s going, we talk about, um, TikTok recipes, we talk about MJ, and Tony in the capacity of like, Iron Man, and Spider-Man, or his birthday, or Christmas, but not like—I’m just saying, she’s more likely to—have said something to you, or Happy, than me.”

“No, she hasn’t, but now that you mention—and he is acting weird right now—and yesterday he did get off the phone fast, different from how he normally…” Rhodey trails off, shaking his head. 

“Maybe he’s sick?” Peter asks, worrying a little bit more now. He thought maybe he was overreacting, he thought Rhodey would brush him off and he’d feel better and then Tony would magically start acting normal again after the conversation. “Nervous? He doesn’t usually—”

“No,” Rhodey says, shaking his head. “Not nervous, these things are—easy, like the back of his hand—sick, maybe, but I thought he was well beyond hiding sick from us, so I hope not—” He looks resolute, all of a sudden, and he claps Peter on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go talk to him. We’ve got an hour or so still, of set-up, so let’s just—just keep on putting out the numbers, doing everything on your list—”

“Okay,” Peter says, nodding, and Rhodey pats him on the shoulder again, moving past him. Peter watches, nonchalantly, as Rhodey walks up to Tony, taking his arm and sort of moving him across the room.

And it’s probably fine. 

Rhodey’s gonna talk to him, figure it out, and it’s gonna be okay. 

Peter keeps repeating that to himself, as he does his little jobs, and he marks them off his list in his notepad—table numbers, check, badges at the door, check, banners, check, taste test the hors d'oeuvres, mostly check, and he totally had that spelled wrong in his notes and it’s fine—

And when people start to arrive, he realizes that he hasn’t seen Tony or Rhodey since—Rhodey left to go talk to him.

And he gets a little nervous and he looks around, trying to scan the room—not completely full yet, and nothing’s started, but Pepper is here and he sees Happy—

—and May makes him jump when she shows up behind him.

“What’s wrong, honey?” she says, giving him that look, that look that’s gotten sharper and even more severe with every one of his near death experiences. 

So he decides not to tell her what’s going on in his head. Which is usually the opposite of what she wants, but this probably isn’t anything, so. “Nothing,” he says, clearing his throat, still trying to scan around. But Tony and Rhodey aren’t here, not anywhere he can see.

“That’s not your nothing face,” she says, rubbing his arm. “Do you have a job you’re supposed to be doing? Is your brain tingling?”

He narrows his eyes at her. “No, it’s—no, it’s not—I gotta, uh, one second—can you make sure you get me one of those little wonton things? Or like three of them? I keep seeing them on the trays and I haven’t gotten to try one yet—”

“You’re concerned about that?” she asks, her eyes still worried and distrustful.

“Yes,” he says, grinning at her quickly before he starts to go looking. 

Part of him feels like he should say something to Pepper, but he doesn’t want to stress her out—and like, it’s probably nothing, everything is probably fine, and he makes a beeline for the door that leads to the little backstage area. 

“Tony?” he says, and the crowd noise goes muffled when he lets the door swing closed behind him. It’s so quiet back here—he doesn’t even see any of the employees or the guys that do the lights or any of Tony’s security—there wasn’t even anybody at the door when he scanned in.

He hears what sounds like something—brushing against the ground—

“Tony?” Peter asks again, glancing around. “Rhodey? Are you guys, uh—I feel like we’re getting ready to—”

Peter turns another corner and stops dead.

Rhodey is on the ground, knocked out, and Tony is dragging him by the arms. He looks up, and sees Peter there, and the look on his face—he doesn’t—Peter’s brain is going a mile a minute and he’s already surging forward to help but the look on Tony’s face—it registers somewhere in the back of Peter’s mind…

“Oh my God, what—what happened?” Peter asks, rushing over and kneeling down next to Rhodey. “What happened, what did—”

“Uh, he fell,” Tony says, and he kneels down next to him. He nods, and widens his eyes and shakes his head, and he doesn’t seem nearly as concerned as he usually would be. Tony normally loses his mind when Rhodey so much as gets a paper cut, so this is…this is…

“How?” Peter asks, looking at Tony and back at Rhodey again. “He was just—”

“I don’t think he ate enough,” Tony says.

Every alarm bell is going off in Peter’s head. They’ve been going off tonight, and for a couple days, honestly, if he really thinks about it, but it’s loud now. He feels like time is slowing down, like his vision is getting narrow, like all of his senses are on high and zeroing in.

And it feels wrong. The shift in the air and his own suspicion, it feels wrong. What would be wrong with Tony?

But that’s where this is going.

It’s focusing on him.

Peter looks at Rhodey, and there’s a bruise on his cheek—

And Tony is clenching and unclenching his fist—

“Tony?” Peter asks, slowly, glancing up at him. His brain isn’t working. It isn’t working and it’s working too fast and he feels like he’s trudging through sludge. Every move is the wrong move.

And Peter looks at him in a certain way. With suspicion. And he hates it, and he feels sick, but he can’t shake it—

And Tony doesn’t answer him. He just looks at him, and the light that’s usually behind his eyes is gone, and his expression is one Peter doesn’t recognize. 

Like someone else is living in his skin.

And just as that thought takes hold and sends chills down Peter’s spine, setting off a whole new line of panicked questions in his head, Tony clicks his tongue. And he sighs.

“Shit,” he breathes. And it’s his voice, of course it’s his voice, but it sounds twisted, and different, and before Peter can even react, before he can pounce on the alarm bells and the way his senses are narrowing and signaling, Tony surges forward with a stiff arm to Peter’s throat, and knocking him to the ground. 

Tony punches him, with his full strength behind it, and Peter is so shocked that he doesn’t even block, and he tastes blood immediately. He winces, gasping, and he blocks the next one, and then Tony is grabbing his forearms and tossing him across the room. 

Peter hits a thing of shelving, and a bunch of buckets fall down on top of him, and through the pandemonium, he sees Tony running away from him.

“What the fuck,” Peter breathes, and he scrambles to his feet—

And Tony would never hit him, ever, not ever, and Peter’s head pounds, with the force of the punches, with the alarms going off, with fear and worry, and is this a clone, is it mind control—either way he has to get him, there’s a reason, but what is it, what is it—

And if he’s a clone it’d be different, but if it’s mind control, Peter might be able to get through to him, he might be able to break it—

And Peter scrambles to his feet, wiping the blood from under his nose with the back of his hand, and he starts taking off in the same direction Tony did—

And he can’t even call his name before he’s taking the full force of a repulsor blast. 

He’s knocked backwards again, slamming into the wall, and he can feel it cave in against his back with the strength of the hit. He coughs, gasping, and his jacket is smoldering and his skin underneath it is too, and he sees Tony standing there with the repulsor aimed at him—he’s only wearing one, and Peter rolls out of the way, narrowly avoiding getting hit again and trying to catch his breath.

He’s not thinking, because nothing makes sense, and Peter just rushes at him and tackles him to the floor—

And Tony punches him again, with the iron hand this time, and Peter’s neck twists hard with the hit—his jaw cracks, blood in his teeth—

And everything in him is screaming to fight back, fight back, but it’s Tony, he—he can’t—he can’t hurt him he fucking can’t hurt him—

And he grimaces, metal in his mouth, and grabs both of Tony’s wrists, mid-flail, and pins him to the ground—

“Doesn’t fucking matter, it’s set,” Tony hisses, and he doesn’t even sound like himself, and the way his face is contorting, he doesn’t look like himself either. Peter’s heart is in his throat, and he dodges another repulsor blast that Tony manages to get off, and Peter covers the repulsor with his hand and twists Tony’s fist and focuses—

“What is? What is?” Peter knows it’s not him, not right now, not really, but he can’t help— “Tony, Tony, are you in there? Are you in there, can you hear—”

“It’ll still do damage where it is—they’d never scan Tony Stark himself at one of his own events,” Tony says, and he grins, manic. “Good way to get it done, huh? One big blast, kill him, ruin his reputation at the same time—”

And Peter’s mind drifts again, like a lifeboat at sea, and he remembers Tony saying earlier that he wouldn’t need his webshooters here, but he packed them anyway. He remembers him with a gym bag, a duffel, he remembers oh nothing, just a few extra lights, and May is here and Rhodey and Happy and people are starting to arrive and Tony himself—Tony himself, and he’s not a clone, he’s not, they’re—they’re trying to kill him, it’s—it’s mind control, it has to be, they used him to smuggle a device in, and they’re trying to kill him—

Peter’s mind drifts, and guides him, and every time it feels like a pull, like a bunch of arrows, but this is more powerful than he’s felt in a while—

And Tony knees him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him again—Tony grabs him by his shoulders and Peter wrenches away, and they both stumble to their feet again and for a minute they’re in a boxing match, except Peter keeps getting hit, because he’s pulling his punches, because it’s Tony, it’s Tony—

“Stop, stop, stop, you’re—”

Another blow across his cheek, breaking the skin, and he hears a high pitch in his ear, and Tony grabs him by the throat and shoves him against the wall—

And Peter gasps, and pushes him, hard, and Tony trips back and nearly falls and even the way he’s moving right now doesn’t seem like him—

And Peter rushes away and tries to run, his head drifting, pulling him, alert, alert—

Webshooters, backpack, the duffel—they were together, he left it—left it with their stuff, back here, when they—when they got here—

And there are arrows in his head and they’re pulsing and buzzing like neon signs, and he knows he’s going the right way—

But he’s being pulled back to the ground by his ankle, and his head cracks on the tile, and it’s stars and metal and arrows and buzz buzz, how much time is on the clock, we don’t know, we don’t even know it’s a bomb, we don’t even know if it’s counting down, but it sure as shit feels like it—

And he tries to scramble up again and his spidey sense can usually help him from all angles, but it feels off, here, and he knows it is when Tony hits him in the face again, when he grabs him and throws him—and punches him again, rattling his brain in his skull—

And it’s because it’s Tony, because he’s not—he’s not a threat, but he is, he is, right now he is—

“Tony!” Peter yells, because maybe he can get through, maybe he can— “Please—”

And he dodges out of the way of another hit, and stumbles up against the far wall in the narrow backstage hallway—

“Tony, this isn’t—it’s me, it’s Peter, Tony, you have to fight this!” he yells, and he starts running again—again—

“He’s not home!” Tony sing-songs, laughing. “Should have known you’d be fucking trouble, a stupid fucking kid is Spider-Man—”

And Peter runs from him, and sees the fire alarm on the wall, and he grabs it and pulls it as he passes it by—

And the alarm goes off in the real world now, in tune with the one in his head, flashing red and white. He hears Tony curse and yell behind him, and Peter has to—he has to—

Doesn’t fucking matter, it’s set—it’ll still do damage where it is—

It has to be a bomb, it has to be—

And he grits his teeth—Tony is still on his heels, and tears sting in Peter’s eyes along with the heartbeat thump of the pulp his face is turning into, and he sucks in a breath and dodges another repulsor blast—

He has to get him to stop, stop, stop trying to stop him—

And he turns around, and tries to hold back and focus at the same time—

“I’m sorry, I’m—I’m so so sorry—”

And he punches him once, and then again, directly in the face, and Peter knows how strong he is and he tries not to hurt him too badly, and Tony crumples and Peter catches him, guiding him to the ground—

And even though the arrows and the alarms are buzzing and jolting in Peter’s entire body now, he sniffles through the blood and makes sure Tony is still breathing, makes sure he still has a pulse, and he is, he does, and Peter squeezes his shoulder and he can’t think about after, not til they get there—

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, squeezing his shoulder again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

And he gets up and he doesn’t let himself look back and he starts running again—

And he’s limping now, and he doesn’t know where that came from, and he finds the place where they stored their bags—

And alarms in his head, and the fire alarm in the building, and lights flashing on and off and he can hear the insanity in the main ballroom, and he finds the duffel and rips it open and—

It is a bomb. 

And it’s got a five minute counter.

Peter scrambles, his head pounding pulsing sick, and he gets his webshooters out and puts them on and grabs the entire duffel bag and slings it over his shoulder.

And he makes a break through the nearest emergency door.

And he gets a running start and leaps into a swing, and his whole face hurts and the emergency in his head is steeping him in a bubble now, because the source is with him, and the danger is still back there, because he doesn’t know if knocking Tony out broke the mind control or if he’s gonna wake up still trapped as an angry Terminator—

And Peter swings, trying to launch himself higher and higher, and he can hear the timer clicking and he keeps track of the count and he can’t be a second off or this is gonna go south—

And it might not work anyway—

And this is dire straits, but Peter finds himself thinking of normal things, and they rise above the noise in his head and the oncoming sirens and he doesn’t feel calm, exactly—his face is pulsing with the pain of the hits he took and he feels like he lost a couple teeth, and his shoulder feels like it’s not in the socket properly every time he swings higher, and his leg is in fire and his spidey sense is an orb of panic, encasing him in a snow globe, but—

He thinks of watching that African Grey Parrot with MJ and Ned the other day, for two hours straight, wiping out the entire YouTube catalog of all his antics. He thinks about the yoga class with May at Bryant Park they got with that Groupon and the seven chai lattes she had lined up beside her mat like bowling pins. He thinks about touring the MIT campus with Tony and the way he introduced him to everybody and said this kid is gonna be the best student you ever have. Sharing french fries at Sebastian’s Cafe. I’m so proud of you.

And he hears the beeping speed up, and he’s thinking of all of that and everything else and why did I wear these shoes why not the brown ones as he tosses the duffel into the air at the arc of his highest swing, and it explodes above him in a mess of orange fireball and knocks him right out of the air—

~

Tony wakes up broken apart.

He doesn’t open his eyes right away. He’s not in the vice grip anymore, not locked into some subconscious pit in his own body while some asshole takes the reins, but he feels like—he feels like the asshole could take over again at any minute, like he’s still in his head somewhere. Dormant, waiting for a moment of weakness so he can shove Tony back down in his cage—

His hands are cuffed together, and he’s—he’s cuffed to something—

He groans, rattling his hands a little bit, and he wakes up and—

Rhodey and Pepper are there. He’s on the floor, and cuffed to a pipe in the wall, and they’re sitting in front of him, and they both look wary and he doesn’t fucking blame them, and his head is pounding and his memories are slapdash watercolor but—

“It’s me,” he breathes, his throat hurting. “It’s me, it’s me—”

“There’s something wrong with you,” Rhodey says, and he exchanges a look with Pepper. He’s got a butterfly bandage on his cheek and Tony thinks that’s me, my fault and what else did he, what else—

“No, I know,” Tony says, squeezing his eyes shut, and his head is pounding and it feels like someone shredded him from the inside out, and—

Tony, you have to fight this—

He remembers, barely—the NYPD taking that guy away, laughing at the idea that they had to ‘save Iron Man’, and he was alone that night and still skeeved off over the whole thing and then he felt the pinch on his arm and felt the thing burrowing and he panicked and he couldn’t even panic for long enough before he seized, before he fell inside himself—

“Thing in my arm,” he croaks, still squeezing his eyes shut tight, because light hurts because voices hurt because everything hurts, and he’s trying to put together the puzzle of his memories and he feels like he might throw up because—because he’s here now but the other guy—he’s here too, he’s still in there, he’s still—and any moment he could— “There’s a thing in my upper arm, left arm—you need to—dig it out, I think it’s right below—right under the skin, it’s like—it made me—made me susceptible, created a link, I don’t fucking know, get it out. You need to get it out.”

“Tony, what—”

Pepper’s voice.

“Pep, he’s—”

“It’s me right now, get it out of my arm or it might not be me in—” He opens his eyes too fast, and really feels like he’s gonna fucking throw up, and they’re both looking at him like he’s the biggest piece of trash they’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing, and that makes him sick too, and what did he—what did he do, what—puzzle pieces, shifting, falling off a glass table—

And he feels his hands breaking skin—

“Jesus Christ,” Rhodey says, and he shifts around and moves over to Tony’s left side, pushing up his sleeve. Tony isn’t even sure where the hell they are right now—he was deep inside, dark and dank and paralyzed in his own body—

“Jesus,” Rhodey says again, and Tony cranes his neck a bit and sees it, feels Rhodey running his finger over a little bump in his arm about the size of a nickel—

“Cut it out,” Tony says, closing his eyes again. “I’m serious, find a knife, cut it out, that’s—”

“Tony,” Pepper says, and she’s rubbing his knee—

“Pepper,” Rhodey says, in that warning tone he has, and the fact that he has to warn Tony’s wife not to touch him is just—

“Cut it out, Rhodey, I’m serious—”

“Alright, Jesus Christ, alright—” And he scrambles away—

“Sterilize it, Rhodey,” Pepper calls after him, looking at Tony again. Her face is streaked with worry, and she looks at him with wariness and pity and love all at the same time. “Tony, why didn’t you—you couldn’t say—”

“I was here but I wasn’t,” he breathes, and the cuffs are hurting his wrists, and everything is fucking hurting, and what did he do what did he do how the fuck long has it been. “Someone—someone got me, I let my guard down and someone—”

It was so easy. The guy used himself as a distraction, as bait, and then he—he did whatever the hell he did and then he was in Tony’s head—

“Okay, okay,” Rhodey says, rushing back around the corner again. “Close your eyes, Tony, if you are—Tony, goddamnit—”

Tony swallows hard, nodding and closing his eyes, and he winces, holding onto the pipe as Rhodey cuts into his skin. He does it fast, and Tony grits his teeth, and he feels Rhodey take the thing out and then he hears him stomping and stomping and stomping—

Feels like plates falling and crashing to the ground inside Tony’s skull. 

He doesn’t get it all, but he gets flashes—the bomb under his hands, Rhodey confronting him, Peter—

Peter.

He remembers hitting him. Over and over, and is that the same hit or—how many times did he—

Peter hitting the wall, and Tony recoils, a tremor running through him, and what did he, what did—

“Where’s Peter?” he asks, looking back and forth at them. His arm is throbbing, everything hurts, he’s frail and sick and he’s probably gonna fucking puke but he doesn’t care. “Where’s Peter, where is he?”

They both just stare at him, and kind of look at each other, and Tony’s heart sinks. 

“What, did I kill him?” he asks, his voice breaking. He grabs onto the bar he’s cuffed to, feeling like he needs to hold on. He’s terrified. “What, what? Where is he?”

“Tony, you were…” Rhodey starts, shaking his head. “You—the kid knew you were acting weird and I went to confront you and you knocked me out—and I guess—Jesus, I guess you were—are, I don’t goddamn know—being mind controlled, and you brought a bomb in here—we’re at the gala, for the new facility—and Peter sussed you out and you two got into it and he knocked you out and I guess—knocked this guy’s control on you loose enough—but he—he took the bomb and—he had webshooters and he—”

Tony closes his eyes, white noise eating into his vision, and he feels like he’s gonna pass out. “Is Peter dead?” he breathes, shaking.

“We’re trying to find him,” Pepper says, and she rubs Tony’s knee again. “Some people got footage, he tossed it into the air and he was blown back and now we can’t—Happy is out there looking, Sam and Natasha are looking, we’ve got emergency deployment teams looking—”

“Uncuff me, please,” Tony half-whispers, because his voice gets caught in his throat. “I need to help, I need to—I need to help look for him—”

“Tony, you’re—”

“He’s not in my head anymore,” Tony snaps, looking at Rhodey. He doesn’t know how the fuck he can prove that, but he can feel it now. It’s different, he’s—he feels ill, and weak, but he doesn’t feel trapped. He doesn’t feel like the ground is about to fall out from underneath him. “And you need to find someone to get that dipshit, he was supposed to be in jail, but right now, I’m—I’m in here alone, okay? I wanna help look for Peter, I want to—please let me, please. You can stay with me, but I need to—just—please. Please.”

Pepper and Rhodey exchange a look, and Tony keeps getting flashes—his fist connecting with Peter’s face, grabbing him and throwing him against the wall—and he shakes them off, swallowing hard. “Please,” he breathes.

Rhodey heaves a sigh. “Lemme get the key.”

~

Tony watches the footage from the quinjet while they scan over the city. He was ruthless, relentless, and he watches himself grab Peter by the throat, toss him every which way, hit him and hit him and hit him again. He made him bleed, over and over, he shot him and burned him up and dragged him to the ground, and Peter barely fought him. He actively avoided it, and got worse because of it. Tony keeps watching, and before long Clint is walking over and taking the phone from him. 

“It wasn’t you,” he says, giving him a pointed look. “Alright? You know that. It wasn’t you.”

“Sure looked like me,” Tony says, getting up and walking back over to Friday’s main control panel. Peter wasn’t in a suit, so this is harder than normal. 

“It wasn’t,” Clint says, sitting back in the pilot’s seat. And he doesn’t say much else about it, but Tony knows he knows firsthand what he’s going through, what this feels like. And it helps a little bit, but not much. The images are imprinted in his head.

He loves Peter. May trusts Tony with her nephew, her surrogate son, the person in her care, and it’s gotten to the point that it’s just a given that Peter is safe with Tony, that Tony’s always gonna help him and protect him. But now there’s this. Now there’s Tony punching him and hitting him and choking him and making him bleed, and he looks down at his hands and they shake. 

Nobody else was hurt, he didn’t do anything else, but that’s because Peter took the bomb. He took that on himself, Tony’s mistake, Tony’s problem, and he put himself in danger to solve it and save everybody. And now they can’t find him. 

Tony wavers back down into the closest seat.

“Stop beating yourself up,” Pepper says, walking out of the back compartment and sitting down next to him. “It wasn’t you. You’re a victim here too.”

“I hurt him, whether it was…me in charge or not,” Tony says, his eyes straining with tears as he looks at her. “These hands hurt him. And I almost…blew up the goddamn gala, if it wasn’t for him noticing—”

“I didn’t notice,” she says. “I should have—Rhodey should have—”

“You guys are busy,” Tony says, looking at the screen again. He’s got a social media tracker up too, and so many people are talking about what happened. Peter didn’t have a mask on, but thankfully, there’s no good footage of his face. 

Everyone is calling him a hero. Because that’s exactly what he is, what he always has been.

“You need people to look out for you too,” Pepper says, running her hand through his hair. “We should have done better, but Peter’s got that little…alert system in his brain, and he’s intuitive, and he knows you. He loves you, he worries.”

Tony shakes his head, looking down at his hands again. He knows May is with Happy, searching, and he can’t even imagine how she feels right now. He feels fucking sick.

“You need someone to check you out too,” Pepper says, still touching him gently, and he doesn’t deserve that either. “Probably have a concussion.”

“Not til we find him,” Tony croaks. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Tony,” she says, but he shakes his head. He’s supposed to be better than this. They defeated a fucking Titan, they defied death and time and saved the goddamn world. And he lets a petty thief mind control him? Take away his agency? Hit Rhodey, threaten an event with innocent people, hurt Peter, badly, put him in harm’s way—

“Tony,” Clint says. “I think we got something.”

~

Peter needs to get up.

He’s been laying here for forty five years he’s an old man now—

He needs to get back he needs to fix Tony so nothing else happens he needs to protect him and get that guy that did this it must have been that guy that’s when it started and he doesn’t know how he did it but he mind controlled him somehow—

Peter coughs, twisting onto his side, and he spits out some blood, and a tooth, and he hopes it’s his wisdom tooth that’s been bothering him the top right one—

He got exploded, that’s right—

And his face hurts, and where the repulsor got him is burning and he feels like he’s wheezing and he falls back on his back again and he feels like he’s on fire a little bit and is his left eye closed or welded closed or gone forever and his leg—twisted—

And just a second just a second—

Black again, in a wonder wheel of spiraling stars—

“Hey, hey. Pete.”

He opens his eyes. Tony is there, cupping his face in his hands, and Peter smiles a little bit, dizzy.

“Is it you?” he asks, or thinks he asks. He can’t hear his own voice. Tony sounded muffled too, but he nods at him.

“It’s me,” he says. He looks so sad. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Peter closes his eyes again, because they’re so heavy. “It’s okay,” he says, and he feels like he’s being lifted up, and he doesn’t remember anything else after—

He opens his eyes. He feels like he’s moving, and he recognizes the tiny medical room in the quinjet. Tony is right next to him, and he stands up when he sees Peter’s awake, and is Peter awake? He feels…crazy, he feels…

“Tony,” he says, and he tries to sit up. “Is it you? Is it you? Are you—”

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Tony says, stepping closer. He still sounds muffled, and faraway, and so does everything else. But he looks like himself. He’s not off anymore. “I’m not gonna hurt you again. Jesus, Pete, I’m so sorry—”

Peter shakes his head, blinking at him. “You didn’t, you—it wasn’t you, you didn’t—”

“I did, technically,” Tony says, and he just stands there and he’s got tears in his eyes and he isn’t really looking at him. He’s close, but he’s keeping his distance. “We’re on our way back, to the compound, May and everybody else is meeting us there—you, uh, you saved everybody, you’re burned in a couple places from the blast and my—goddamn repulsor, but Helen’s gonna—when we get back, she’s going to—”

He sighs, stops talking and rests his elbows on the bar of the bed, and hangs his head, like he’s ashamed. Peter hasn’t ever really seen him like this, and his brain still feels like it’s swiss cheese but he sits up a little bit more. He covers Tony’s hands with his own and squeezes them, and tries not to think about how much everything hurts.

“You wouldn’t be mad at me if this was opposite,” Peter says, staring at the top of his head. “You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t blame me at all and I don’t blame you either so. So. Just don’t even, I mean. Just don’t.”

“You can’t even talk straight,” Tony says, still not looking up. 

“That’s most of the time,” Peter says, still holding onto his hands. 

Tony sighs. “I put you in danger and I hurt you. I watched the footage, it was a fucking nightmare, and you let me keep hitting you because you know how strong you are and you didn’t want to hurt me so you just let me keep hurting you—”

“It wasn’t you,” Peter says, trying to be assertive, and he’s so tired, he’s so, so tired. He leans forward, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder, and he closes his eyes. “It wasn’t your fault. It isn’t. So stop. I know you won’t and you’re gonna live in this and punish yourself forever but like, don’t. Don’t do that.” He sighs, leaning into him. “Did you guys get the bad guy—”

“Sounded like it,” Tony says, and he’s still hanging his head, and Peter sighs. “I think so. I gotta check in with Rhodey again. Make sure nobody else got mind controlled.”

“So it all worked out,” Peter says.

“You nearly getting exploded is not it all working out.”

“I didn’t get exploded I only got slightly singed and nobody else got exploded and you are no longer mind controlled so. Win to me.”

Tony sighs again, and he gently, very gently, wraps his arms around Peter and hugs him. “I’m gonna jump off a fucking roof,” he says. “I never wanna hurt you. Never. I can barely remember it, I’ve got flashes—”

“Don’t try,” Peter says, reaching up and holding onto his arm.

“—but I saw the footage—”

“Forget it,” Peter says. “Erase it.”

Tony shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have ever—allowed it to happen in the first place, and I still don’t know how the hell it did, and I’ve just got—a lot of work to do, to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I can’t let myself get taken like that, used like a fucking goon against people I love. Jesus Christ. You’re hurt because of me.”

“Nope,” Peter says, because he doesn’t have the brain power to try and fight him harder, even though he knows it’s gonna be a guilt battle probably for the rest of their lives. 

“Pete,” Tony says, still holding onto him.

“Nope,” Peter says again, and he drifts. Spidey sense is dormant. He’s a piece of raw meat but he’s—safe.

~

And Tony isn’t there when Peter wakes up again, back at the compound. May is there, and after she hugs him and kisses him about a hundred times, she breaks out the Tupperware, containing all the little appetizers from the gala that never was. 

And Tony stays missing in action the next couple days, even though everyone else comes by to see how Peter is doing. Rhodey implies that Tony paid a special visit to the asshole that did this, but he doesn’t go into detail on what the encounter entailed. The guy did have hidden powers, clearly, and Doctor Strange even gets involved trying to figure out how he did it, what exactly that thing was that they pulled out of Tony’s arm. 

But three days later and Peter still hasn’t seen him again. 

“Maybe he’s busy,” Ned says, as he and Peter and MJ walk up and down the hallways. Peter broke his ankle, somewhere in all the insanity, and pulled a muscle in his calf. He’s been trying to walk around a lot during the day, even though he’s still on bed rest.

“He’s not busy,” Peter says. “He’s avoiding me.”

“Well, he beat the shit out of you, and he feels bad,” MJ says. 

Peter sighs. 

“I’d feel bad too,” MJ says, “even if I was mind controlled. It still sucks, I mean, when I saw him his knuckles were still all bruised. Just a constant reminder of what someone made him do.”

“You saw him?” Peter asks, looking at her.

She looks a little bit like she wants to take a back, but she nods. “Yeah, uh, earlier. When I got here, when I was talking to Pepper.”

“Did you talk to him?” Peter asks, as they turn around at the end of the hall. He’s trying to sound nonchalant and failing spectacularly.

“Not really,” MJ says, taking Peter’s hand. “He wouldn’t really even look at me, I can tell he—he’s just really guilty. He feels really bad.”

“Peter doesn’t want him to feel bad,” Ned says. 

“Yeah, but once you feel bad, you feel bad,” MJ says, “it’s not like it magically goes away because someone says that it should.”

“Maybe we can magic him,” Ned says. “Doctor Strange, you know. He could do that.”

“Yeah, let’s just hack into his mind again,” MJ says, widening her eyes at him. “I’m sure that’s the right course of action.”

Peter sighs again. “I don’t know what to do,” he says. “He could do this forever. And ever and ever.”

“Well, definitely as long as you’re all bruised up,” MJ says, reaching over with her free hand and brushing her thumb over Peter’s cheek. 

~

And two more days go by without seeing Tony, and it’s almost time for Peter and May to head back to their apartment, even though May said they could stay at the compound as long as he wanted to.

And Peter decides to do something.

“Friday is he still there?” Peter asks, making his way down to the workshop.

“Yes, Peter,” Friday says, in Peter’s ear.

“And you’re not lying to me?” Peter asks, rushing down the stairs, quick as he can with a bum leg.

“No, Peter,” Friday says. “I am not permitted to lie to you.”

Peter smiles to himself. He knows he still doesn’t look wonderful, but he looks a lot better than he did, and either way he can’t take this anymore. And he gets down to the workshop in what feels like record time and he scans in without trying to make a lot of noise, and when he opens the door he sees Tony at the back door as if he’s trying to escape.

“Stop!” Peter yells, his hands up. “Stop! Don’t leave!”

Tony whips around, his eyebrows furrowed. “Kid?” he says, already walking back over in his direction. “Are you okay?”

“No!” Peter says, a little more forcefully than he intended to. 

“What’s wrong?” Tony asks, gently, weaving around the work stations and reaching his side. 

“You’re ignoring me!” Peter says, and he sounds like a small, stupid child, but he doesn’t do anything to change that. “And I don’t like it.”

Tony’s face falls, and he nods, glancing away from him. “I’m not…ignoring you, I just—I felt like—”

“I know you feel bad,” Peter says, sucking in a big breath. “And I know me telling you not to feel bad doesn’t change the fact that you feel bad, but I seriously don’t want you to feel bad, because now this whole like—keeping yourself separate and out of my sight thing feels like you’re punishing me.”

“I’m not,” Tony says, fast. “I was just—”

“You don’t need to punish yourself either—”

“I wasn’t really…exactly…c’mere, come sit down—”

“I’m okay,” Peter says.

“I know, I know, I wanna sit,” Tony says, taking Peter’s arm and tugging him over to the closest workstation with two rolling chairs. They sit down, and they both sigh, and Tony keeps talking. “I was just, uh—I sent out messages to everyone involved at the gala explaining things a little bit, and I got everything rescheduled on my own, and I, uh—met up with the asshole at Riker’s and attacked him and nearly got arrested myself—”

Peter leans on the workstation, running his hands over his face. He can imagine that, and he doesn’t like it.

“—and I’ve been building some new security protocols, and working on another nano suit for you that’s a lot like my watch gauntlet that can—stay on your person, read your heart rate, come to you if you need it—but I’m trying to make sure it only comes in the correct instance, and not if you like, see a cute dog—”

Peter laughs a little bit, shaking his head at him.

Tony smiles softly. “But I’ve been doing all that, along with maybe, slightly punishing myself by—staying out of your way—”

“You’re not in my way,” Peter says, feeling a little bit too emotional, maybe. “You’re not. You never have been. Never will be.”

“You don’t know that—”

“Tony—”

“What I mean is…old man, long shadow, you know, I’ve been there—”

“You’re not your dad,” Peter says, shaking his head at him. “You’re a good—you’re a good father figure, you’re a…good father.”

Tony brightens up a little bit, and his nod almost looks like a question. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Peter says. “No matter what.”

Tony nods again, more solidly this time. “One more thing—”

“No more saying sorry,” Peter says, shaking his head. “You told me I can never say sorry again, well now, you can’t either so, how about—”

“Thank you,” Tony says, and Peter stops talking. “Thank you for—realizing that something was wrong, thank you for figuring it out, thank you for knocking me on my ass when I wasn’t me, thank you for—saving everybody and me too, in the process. Thank you, Pete, really. Thank you.”

Peter’s throat goes tight, and there are tears in his eyes, and he nods again. “You’re welcome,” he says, holding his chin high. “Any time.”

“And I’m sorry,” Tony says, fast, rolling forward and wrapping him up in a big hug. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Last time, I’m sorry. Okay I’m done. I’m so sorry. Okay I’m actually done.”

Peter snorts, hugging him too, burying his face in his shoulder. “No more mind control,” he says, letting the apologies drift into the air unanswered.

“Oh no, never again,” Tony says, rubbing Peter’s back. “And I figure, when you’re—when you’re tip top again, we can get into the ring, and I’ll feel better if you get a few good shots in, and I’ll forget about the whole thing if you break my nose—”

“No,” Peter says, shaking his head and still holding onto him. “I’m not doing that.”

“Too afraid to box an old man, huh?”

“My old man, maybe,” Peter says, feeling particularly sentimental.

And Tony laughs, in a rush of breath, and holds him reverently for a second. He pulls back, and pats Peter’s cheek. “We’ll see,” he says. “Might get Rhodey in there too, to make it fair—”

“He’ll probably take you up on that,” Peter says, getting to his feet. “Okay, lemme see the suit, remember I get last say in design decisions—”

“Oh, you aren’t going for bright yellow?” Tony asks, resting his hand on Peter’s shoulder as they head over to the main workstation. “You don’t like that?”

“Better than that time you tried to integrate green and made me look like a Christmas tree,” Peter says, grinning at him.

“Hey,” Tony says, typing in a few commands and bringing up the specs. “I thought that was very festive.”

And they start working, and Peter remembers feeling safe, before, when they were on the quinjet and his brain was still scrambled. But he feels like they’re on the other side of it now, for real. 

Safe. Really, truly safe.

#irondad #iron dad #peter parker #tony stark #spider-man #iron man #works by iron spider #irondad fic #iron dad fic #marvel fic

[therealdisneyfan2319]

The Spider and The Witch Chapter 1: The Experiment and The Flu

Summary: Peter Parker and Y/N L/N are junior biochem majors at Empire State College.  Peter needs a volunteer for his research project, and a series of events leads Y/N to come down with the flu...or does he?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Language, blood, needles, description of medical procedures

Word Count: 3.6K

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“I don’t know how I managed to let you talk me into going to the lab with you this early.”  You stretched your arms out as you yawned, keeping your arm just so to keep your coffee upright.

“Dude.  It’s 10 am,” Peter chuckled.

“These good looks don’t just happen, man.  I need a full nine hours.”

“Maybe if you went to bed before 3 am-” “Now wait a minute.  You’re lecturing me about going to bed early when you used to pull all-nighters slinging webs around Queens?”

“Shut up!” He swatted your arm before you had the chance to pull away.  “At least I was doing something productive with my life, not playing Pokemon-” “Completing the Pokedex is extremely productive.  Now it might not be the same kind of productive as extracting the Spidey mutation from your genome sequence, but categorizing all the Pokemon from the Galar region is an important, time-consuming task.”

Peter rolled his eyes as he rolled down the sidewalk next to you.  You chuckled, taking a sip of your coffee as you shook your head.  This sort of banter was typical of your friendship.  Peter was one of your closest friends and easy to joke with, but you also worked well together.  It didn’t hurt that you were both biochem majors and had the same sort of scientific mind.  Since you met in world civ last fall the two of you had been as thick as thieves.  It didn’t matter that he was three years older than you, a grade above you, or that he used to be Spider-Man.  Finding out that the guy in the Stark tech wheelchair who loved Led Zeppelin and Star Wars was once the friendly neighborhood superhero was not what you expected when you went over to his dorm to hang out for the first time.  Peter was used to people freaking out when they found out and was thrilled when you shrugged it off.  

“So what exactly are we doing today?” you asked.  You had volunteered to help him out with a research project he was working on.  He hadn’t told you much about it, only that it was being funded by Tony Stark and dealt with genome sequencing. 

“Nothing too crazy.  I need to take samples of your blood.  I’ll use those as test subjects against my blood.  That’ll be the control sample.”  He punched in a sequence on the keypad on the arm of his chair.  Tank tracks dropped down from the bottom of the seat as the chair began to climb the stairs to the science building.  

“You know how to take blood?” you asked, holding the door open for him as he wheeled into the building.

“Yeah, well…yeah.  I mean Sam taught me how to start an IV and drawing blood is the same principle, right?  You gotta find the vein.”

“Oh my god I’m gonna die,” you mumbled as you turned down the hall toward the lab Peter worked out of.  It was one of the newest labs on campus.  Tony Stark had donated a sizable amount of money toward the Empire State College science and research division with the provision that all the money go toward funding better facilities for students.  The new building had just opened at the beginning of the semester.  Peter was more than excited to have a space stocked with the latest Stark technology to work on his newest endeavor.  It was more convenient than trying to head upstate to the Avengers Compound a few times a week.

“I won’t let you bleed out on me, man.  Worst comes to worst we’ll just throw some webs on it and send you to New York Pres.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better about all of this?  Because it’s totally not.”  You hated needles.  You hated doctors.  The thought of someone who was decidedly NOT a medical professional fishing around your elbow for a vein made your stomach flip flop.  Maybe a large coffee wasn’t the best idea for breakfast…

The bright fluorescent lights in the lab snapped on as you opened the door.  They seemed unnecessary as sunlight flooded the windows that took up the entirety of the easternmost wall.  The overhead haze added to the sterile feel of the room: the latest in Stark Technology, ranging from microscopes and test tubes to autoclaves and fabricators, shone brightly against the lights.  It was nerd heaven, stuffed to the brim with everything anyone could ever need for any experiment they could dream of.  You threw your backpack on a lab table adjacent to where Peter was setting up his laptop.  Once you were done helping him out, you figured you’d swing by the library to start cracking on the paper for your art history course.

“So I already took my own samples earlier this week,” he explained. “I’m storing them in the fridge over there.  Mind grabbing them for me?” He motioned with his head to the mini fridge that sat next to the sink.  You walked over to the fridge, seeing a rack of blood vials sitting on the bottom shelf amongst the Petri dishes of spores and sole can of Coke.  “Don’t drop it,” he cautioned as grabbed a ziploc baggie of medical supplies out of his bag.

“Whoop.”  You fake tripped, stumbling around and swinging the tray to and fro aimlessly.  He shot you a somewhat serious glare.  You returned a toothy grin.  

“Dude if you drop that-”

“Relax, Pete.  I’ve got steady hands.”  You placed the tray on the table in front of him with the grace of a swan.  “See?” You raised your hands up defensively.  “Steady hands.  I should be a goddamn surgeon.”

“Ah yes, Dr. Y/N L/N, the surgeon who hates blood.”  He dumped the contents onto the table.  Out fell some rubber gloves, a rubber tourniquet, needles, tubes, alcohol wipes, and cotton balls.  You gulped at the sight of the paraphernalia.  “So why don’t you just sit there and roll up your sleeve so we can do this.”

“Are you sure you can’t just, like, prick my finger?”  Plopping onto the stool you rolled up the sleeve of flannel.  

“Do you want to sit here and fill up these tubes one drop at a time?” Peter asked from the sink.  The tray of tubes, empty ones and ones full of his blood, sat next to him as he washed his hands.

“Good point,” you muttered.  It felt like you were chewing on the flannel from your shirt.

“Just relax, I did it on myself the other day and I turned out just fine.”  There was a slight waver in your friend’s voice as he spoke.  Try as he might to hide it, Peter was nervous, too.  He snapped on the baby blue gloves.  You turned your head away, refusing to look until he was done.  “Can you just make a fist for-good okay, yup, I see the vein.”  The sudden coolness of the alcohol against your skin made you shiver, but you refused to look.  Even as you felt the slight prick of the needle against your skin you kept your eyes firmly shut.  “Told you I wouldn’t let you bleed out,” he chuckled, replacing the now full vial with an empty one.

“How many vials do you need?”  You strained your neck as you tried to look as far away as you could from the scene unfolding in front of you.

“I don’t know, I did six of my own.  That should be enough,” Peter shrugged.  

Six vials of blood?  Why did you even decide to do this in the first place?  You could’ve been back in your dorm in the comfort of your bed, sleeping the morning away, instead of having your blood forcibly removed from your body.  Peter definitely owed you big time.  

He removed the tube from your arm, handing you a cotton ball to stop the bleeding.  “That should be it.  Mind putting those back in the fridge for me?”  

The second your feet hit the floor your knees wobbled.  It was probably psychosomatic, but the sight of all your blood sitting inches outside where it should be made you the slightest bit queasy.  “Yeah, no problem.”  You shook your head quickly.  There was no way you were going to let yourself puke or, even worse, drop the vials and have to do it all over again.  

It took all your effort not to look down at the plastic tray in your hands.  You concentrated all your effort on staring down the refrigerator.  That ultimately meant neglecting your untied shoelace.  Before you realized what was happening you found yourself tripping over your feet.  While you managed to not lose your balance completely, the sudden jolt sent two of the vials crashing to the floor.

“Shit,” you mumbled as you set the tray on the floor.  There were shards of glass and blood splattered across the marble tile.  You quickly glanced over your shoulder, hoping Peter hadn’t seen your mistake.  Much to your relief he was engrossed in his notebook.  That bought you some time to quickly clean up the mess.  You looked around for a roll of paper towels, spotting the roll next to the sink and tearing off a few sheets.  The crimson puddles looked like they’d be easy enough to clean up.  Not thinking too much about it, you knelt down and started blotting at the spill.  A sudden stab caused you to recoil from the ground in pain.  As you examined your hand, you noticed a small scratch on the pad of your thumb.  

“You good?” Peter’s voice broke you away from staring at your hand.

“Yeah.  Dropped one of the vials and cut myself.  I’m good.”

“Was it one of mine or yours?”

“Uhh, mine.”  Truth be told you had no idea if it was yours or his.  There was no way to know which vial was which.  Peter knew.  He probably had it marked down in his laptop or something.  But you remembered that his vials were facing you when you pulled them out of the fridge.  That meant yours were away from you and there was an empty spot there.  Yeah, it’s mine.  “You need me for anything else?”

“Nah, you’re good,” Peter focused intensely on his laptop, typing away as you finished cleaning up your mess and putting the samples away.  “Are we still on for dinner tonight?  Ned’s dying to try out that new Thai place on Watts Street.”

“Yeah, shoot me a text.  I’m headed to the library for a bit.”  You slung your backpack over your shoulder as you headed for the door.  “See you.”

“Thanks again, Y/N.”

******

You spent the rest of the day in the library researching and typing and revising your paper.  The minutes ticked by as you lost yourself in the endless barrage of Western paintings you thought looked all too similar.  Yet as the day passed you found yourself feeling strange.  At first you thought you had been studying too long.  The words on your laptop screen seemed fuzzy and you found yourself re-reading the same paragraph on Donatello about a dozen times before anything seemed to click.  Then the library seemed to drop ten degrees before abruptly shooting up another twenty.  Sweat on the back of your neck ran down your shirt and chilled you as fast as it cooled you off.  The lights were suddenly too bright and even the silence was too loud.  

Shit, you thought to yourself as your felt heat radiating off your forehead.  It was probably the flu.  It had been making the rounds through campus for the better part of a month, so you weren’t completely surprised.  Closing your laptop and shoving your books in your bag, you texted Peter as you left the library:

Got the flu.  You and Ned go without me.  I’m gonna go to bed.

The walk back to your apartment wasn’t long, but it was a near-impossible task in your ever-worsening condition.  Every step felt like you were trudging through molasses.  Your legs were as heavy as cement and you prayed you wouldn’t trip because you weren’t sure you’d be able to get up again.  Tears clouded your vision.  Rubbing your eyes didn’t help.  The only thing on your mind was downing half a bottle of Nyquil and passing out as soon as you got back to your room.  

Much to your relief you walked into an empty apartment.  Peter and Ned must’ve already left for dinner.  You kicked your shoes off and dropped your bag at the front door.  There was no doubt in your mind that this was the flu: you felt like absolute garbage as you shuffled to your bedroom.  As you flopped on the bed, clothes and all, your body felt like it was made of lead.  Bone-crushing fatigue consumed you as you shivered on top of your bedspread.  You prayed that you’d be able to get a little bit of sleep to help dull the pain.

When you woke the following morning, you were surprised to find that you didn’t feel sick at all.  In fact, you felt better than you had in a long time.  There wasn’t any evidence that you felt so poorly only a few hours ago.  You swung your legs around to the side of the bed and stared at the floor as you thought about what you were going to do all day, but when you tried to stand up something was off.  As you stretched your arms above your head, you felt something engulf you: it was your blanket.  It was stuck to your hands.  

Did I spill Nyquil on my hands? you wondered as you tugged at the fuzzy fabric.  No, I didn’t take any Nyquil last night.

It took a considerable amount of effort to tear just one of your hands away only for it to stick on the wall as you balanced against it for support.  Paint flaked away as you ripped your hand away.  At that point you weren’t sure if you were still asleep or not.  Squeezing your eyes shut, you reopened them to find flakes of drywall still attached to your fingers.  What the hell?  You shook your hands, trying to free yourself of the debris, but as you flicked your wrist downward, you heard a loud thwack.  The sticky white residue covered Marty McFly’s face on the Back to the Future poster that hung next to your bed.  That same white residue balled up on the inside of your wrist.  When you tried to pull it off, a long spindly web came with it.

Oh fuck.

The implications of what just happened were huge to say the least.  The vial you broke yesterday wasn’t yours: it was Peter’s.  His blood contaminated yours when you cut yourself and now you had…spidey powers?  It couldn’t be.  This all had to be some sort of nightmare.  You were just a normal guy trying to make it through college relatively unscathed.  Sure, your roommate was an Avenger and that was a little weird, but other than that your experience was pretty normal.  You had no interest in having superpowers or saving the world whatsoever.  

“Everything okay in there, man?” Peter asked as he rapped on your door.  It momentarily snapped you out of your panic.

“Uhh yeah, yeah.  I’m good,” you hollered through the door, still looking at the web in your hand.  

“You sure?”

“Yeah.  I’m okay.  Just, uhh, knocked my blankets off the bed.”  You wiped the web up with a tissue, praying that it wouldn’t stick to your hand, too.  It didn’t, much to your relief.  

“How are you feeling?” he called as you started taking off your clothes from the day before.  A long shower would help you figure out what your next move was.  

“Good.  Great actually.  I feel fine,” you responded, throwing your dirty t-shirt on the ground.  “How was dinner?” “It totally sucked, man.  You didn’t miss much,” Ned’s voice was faint as he yelled from the kitchen.  

“Bummer.  I told you that you should’ve done Indian instead.”

“Well hey if you’re feeling better why don’t we go for lunch?” Your stomach grumbled at the thought, but images of getting stuck to the subway pole loomed in your mind.  “Yeah, sure,” you responded absentmindedly while kicking your pants off and grabbing a clean pair of sweats off your bed.  

Wearing nothing but your boxers, you opened the door fully intending to go straight to the bathroom.  The second Peter and Ned saw you their jaws dropped.

“Dude!” Peter exclaimed. 

“Wha-?”  

“Woah!  Y/N, when did you get ripped?” Ned asked.  You were thoroughly confused.  None of your hobbies included going to the gym or working out.  What were they talking about?  The lights came on in the bathroom and as your eyes adjusted to the brightness you were shocked.  It was like someone took a  chisel to your body overnight.  There were muscles in places you didn't know there could be muscles.  The reflection in the mirror showed you defined pecs, swollen biceps, and the faintest outline of a six pack.

“What the hell?” you mumbled in disbelief.  Your fingers traced over your chest, taking in the new body you’d inadvertently fallen into.  It was a surreal experience seeing an unfamiliar body in the mirror.  It was almost like you were watching someone else live your life while you watched from outside yourself.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Y/N?” Peter asked as he wheeled himself in front of the bathroom door.

“Yeah.  I’ve just got spidey powers now.”  It didn’t even feel like you were the one saying those words.  Haze clouded your periphery, forcing you to focus on the newness of your body.  It was an out-of-body experience in every way.  There was no way to really process the profundity of the situation.  

“You WHAT?”

Time stopped.  Everything stopped.  Peter’s face contorted with dozens of emotions in the blink of an eye.  Glass shattered on the kitchen floor as Ned’s glass slipped out of his hand.  

“Umm, yeah I guess.  I’m starting to think that was your blood that I cleaned up yesterday.”  You half expected Peter to be furious at the truth, but the beaming grin on his face told you otherwise.

“It worked!  Holy shit it WORKED!”  He spun his chair around excitedly, whooping all the while.  “Mr. Stark, oh man, he’s gonna be so excited!  He’ll want to meet you.  Man, now he doesn’t even need to look for someone to be the next Spider-Man because…oh this is great, I can teach you everything!  That way you’ll be WAY ahead of where he thinks you should be and he’ll let you onto the team fas-”

“The next Spider-Man?”

“I mean yeah, Mr. Stark will definitely want to talk to you about it,” Peter replied.

“Dude, I’d kill to be Spider-Man!” Ned added, sweeping up what remained of his glass.

“No way, absolutely not,” you groused as you stormed out of the bathroom.  “No offense, Pete, but I don’t want to be an Avenger.”

“You don’t have to make a decision now.  I don’t even know if he’ll ask.  I mean he probably will but that doesn’t mean anything.  He might just want you to come in to do, like, more testing or something.”  Peter gingerly walked back his excitement.  The prospect of training the next Spider-Man brought a sense of optimism back into his life that had long been forgotten.  Losing his identity as the local neighborhood web slinger stripped away a core part of his identity: Peter Parker and Spider-Man were one in the same.  Sure, he still used his powers and webs when he could, but it wasn’t the same.  Tony had offered to make him an exosuit after the accident, but he knew that he couldn’t do it anymore.  One close brush with death was more than enough for him.

“Look,” you sighed, “I’m not you.  I don’t want to go out and swing through Manhattan and stop burglars or fight weird lizard things.  I just want to be a normal guy doing normal guy things with my normal guy friends if I can even call the two of you normal.”  Peter chuckled half-heartedly.

“Wait, can you stick to the ceiling?” Ned suddenly asked.  You sighed again, shaking your head as you extended your arm up and jumped: you stuck.  “Woah!  That’s sweet!”

“Yeah, it is kinda cool I guess,” you chuckled as you watched your fingertips completely suspend your dead weight from the ceiling.  Getting used to your new body was a curious sensation.  Everything felt sharper.  Colors were brighter and bolder.  You saw incredibly small movements even from the corners of your eye.  Your body felt stronger and faster and more agile.  It was strange, spending your entire life as a regular human being and then waking up one day twenty years later with these weird spidery feelings tingling inside you.  

“Do you want one of my web shooters?” Peter asked as you dropped down.

“Web shooters?”

“Yeah,” Peter replied questioningly as he raised an eyebrow.  “You don’t think I can actually make webs, do you?”

You responded by mimicking the hand gesture Peter frequently showed you, flicking your wrist downward as a raveled strand of webs flew out of your wrist.  Peter ducked his head out of the way in the knick of time while Ned’s jaw dropped in amazement.  

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

#wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff fic #scarlet witch fic #wanda maximoff x male reader #wanda x male reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #scarlet witch x male reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x y/n #spiderman #spiderman fic #spiderman reader #spiderman male reader #wanda maximoff x spiderman reader #wanda maximoff x spiderman male reader #scarlet witch x spiderman reader #scarlet witch x spiderman male reader #self reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #therealdisneyfan2319

[qcomicsy]

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

I genuinely do not understand the appeal of heroes being extremely violent on Wade Wilson unless make sense for the character.

Like no sorry I cannot believe all the avengers would be okay to downright dismember this guy despite him being an asshole and a killer. They didn't direct this type of energy to any other villain including the ones who can't die.

I just low-key do not vibe with the gore on Deadpool for sake of gore specially directed at him. I don't find funny, don't think it comes closer to slap-stick humour with the length they do it and when they bend the rules and characterizations of certain super-heroes in the name of the "joke" it makes me lose the respect for the characters, the writer and the history involved.

The same thing applies to jokes regarding his appearance and his skin condition, specially his mental health when it comes to the same people. I do think there's nuance and absolutely when he punches down plays in a totally different direction.

Also to me the only few people that make sense of this kind of joke are Weasel and other characters who does this type of joke in the regular basis, but no you are not going to make me sit there and believe that Captain America would make fun or act disgusted towards the appearance of a cancer and tortured survivor, or be comfortable with his team fuckin dismembering him. Specially when he was literally on the World War ll.

Also, despite of how mean Spidey is towards people he doesn't like I don't buy either that he'd go for the appearance after knowing what Wade been through sorry, I can be wrong. I can be specially wrong. But even if I am it's not something I'd like to read.

I mean c'mon Wade's shitty personality is enough material guys.

#choose violence game #q asks #q talks comics

[webshootersandwingdings]

Getting to know Luck

#hero pets #lucky the pizza dog #playstation #marvel #spider-man #play avengers spidey #gamerverse #play avengers #marvel's avengers #marvel games #crystal dynamics #square enix #video games #virtual photography #gaming #games #gaming screenshot #in game photography #photomode #photo mode

[icyfox17]

New tag game bc I'm bored

List 5-10 of the most obscure crossovers you have floating around in your brain !!

1. Dumbass!crimeboys x halcyon!crimeboys

-> arguably the most obscure since it's a crossover between two aus that aren't even posted publicly, but i gen adore it sm<3 db!crimeboys is a hero au where tommy is just. Welp. A dumbass<3 he's my fav tommy ever guys 😭😭 he's my friend's au and I just SOBS most precious guy ever... And halcyon crimeboys is a detective au. Basically take the dumbest tommy and tired older brother Wilbur and make them meet the smartest crimeboys. It's very silly:))

2. Psych x Dsmp

-> okay hear me out. Hear me out. Shawn Spencer is literally Tommyinnit. They are the SAME. Now Phil as Chief Vic, Techno and Wilbur as twin detectives who both function as Jules and Lassiter (platonic ofc), and Tubbo as Gus. It fits way better than it should 😭😭

3. Critical Role (specifically Mighty Nein) x Dsmp

-> guys. Guys. I went on a rant on here like a year ago BUT CADUCEUS AND TECHNO'S CHARACTER DESIGNS ARE EERILY SIMILAR TO EACH OTHER. Tall pink dude w animal traits (cad is more cow, tech is more pig)? Cad is like c!Phil and c!Techno to me... (Is it bc of the tea obsession? Maybe...). I just also think that clingyduo would get along with Jester and Nott/Veth like a wildfire. OR OMG FOOLISH-- Does anyone remember Foolish building dick statues everywhere?? Yeah, he's definitely a follower of the Traveler.

4. 911xMCU

-> okay ngl guys this just came 2 me bc I realised that everyone calls Bobby Cap like how all the Avengers call Steve Cap and I was like lmfao imagine a scene where someone says Cap and they both respond to it.

5. Cw Flash x Pjo

-> okay this isn't my idea but it's one of my fav fics ever WHY DOES IT WORK SO WELL LMFAO

6. Spider-Man x Dick Grayson & Wally West

-> PETER IS LITERALLY DICK AND WALLY IN ONE PERSON 😭😭 SUPER SMART SCIENCE BRAIN + SILLY GOOFY + ACROBATS they're the same. I need them to meet so badly sobsosbsosbsosvsosbsosbsisbsjs Not sure which versions of which I just. Need it. Pls 😭😭😭

7. Justice League Unlimited x Young Justice (tv show)

-> This one has its own separate post here, but omg it makes me SO UPSET GUYS 😭😭😭

8. TMNT x Batfam

Okay not obscure bc they have had both a movie and a comic BUT HEAR ME OUT. SPECFICALLY THE 2007 MOVIE VERSION OF TMNT. This scene is literally Dick and Jason I can't do this guys WHY DO THEIR COLOURS EVEN MATCH

9. Dceu!Bruce & Barry x MCU!Irondad

-> okay my mental illness is full blast here but omfg they are the same duo THEY ARE THE SAME I need them to swap sons for a day plspslspslspspspdlfkfdishskdfjdksklaskd

10. Any vigilante au Tommy x Spider-Man

-> this is hidden in my notes app and is both like my own version of Tommy and Spidey but omfg I'm attached it's such a fun idea to play around with rahhhshshshss. I have a scene where Tommy and Spidey have a miscommunication over Blade lmfao and it lives rent free in my mind. Like Blade is a vampire but does NOT dress the same as Technoblade who might also secretly be a vampire in Tommy's universe lmfaooo

Okay and Bonus One that literally no one will understand except me

11. Magnum PI remake x Orphanduo (Techno and Skeppy)

-> Katsumoto is literally Technoblade guys. THEY ARE THE SAME PERSON. And omfg Magnum and Higgens are so happy duo ngl 😭😭😭

OKAY THAT'S ALL FOR NOW YIPPEE

Tag time :D

@sammiekel @jiksvokrat @cristalmystery @ghosts-and-blue-sweaters @sleepdeprivedofmycorn @sunflowervc @angrilydancing and anyone else who wants to join in!!

#foxie rambles #tag games #was this just an excuse to ramble about my fav crossovers? maybe... #but now u are all forced to join in mwahahhaa #dc #batfam #mcu #spiderman #dick grayson #wally west #peter parker #yj #young justice #tmnt #crimeboys in these aus are strictly my own and not connected to the ccs #tommyinnit #sbi #philza #technoblade #critical role #cr #mighty nein #caduceus clay #magnum pi #dceu #barry allen #bruce wayne #911 #cw flash #oops max tags lmao

[jor-elthatendswell]

It's a well worn topic at this point but the imminent release of The Marvels has me thinking about how militaristic the Marvel Cinematic Universe is, with Monica Rambeau aka Photon, a habour patrol member in the comics, reimagined as a captain in the US Air Force.

She follows Hawkeye, who was changed from an argumentative former circus performer with a heart of gold (a character so staunchly against lethal force he once revoked his own wife's Avengers membership because she sort of, maybe, subconsciously allowed a villain to fall to his death) into a hard-nosed black ops assassin.

Sam Wilson/ Falcon made his celluloid debut as an army man with twin submachine guns attached to his wrists. It’s a far cry from his print counterpart’s introduction as a social worker by day who uses his skill at falconry to protect his neighbourhood.

If we allow the argument that modern cinema goers are accustomed to a sprinkling of realism to make their superheroes palatable (and it’s a strange argument really- why should realism be a desirable quality in summer blockbuster escapism?) then what actually constitutes “realism”.

Sure, a man who learnt uncanny skill with a bow and arrow growing up with a travelling show couldn’t possibly hold his own alongside Hulk or Thor in the real world (and, yes, there isn’t a Hulk or Thor in the real world; as I say, this is a strange argument), but if he learned those exact same skills in some kind of military context then that somehow passes the bar for realism? The sinister upshot is that these children’s heroes become more warlike just as, globally, they reach more children than ever before.

Increasing the realism of superhero stories only serves to make them problematic. DC Comics' Batman, who is the frequently subjected to “realistic” treatments, is the prime example. If, in real life, a billionaire tooled himself up with the best weapons and body armour money can buy and began dispensing violent “justice” with no accountability, then of course that wouldn’t be a good thing. If they wore a costume with pointy ears and started calling themselves “Batman” then of course we would question their sanity. But Batman isn’t real; it’s a story. Nobody thinks The Muppet Show advocates animal cruelty. Quite the opposite, if anything. ("Not unless they're watching it", as Waldolf once heckled) Yet if a filmmaker decides they’re going to make a “grounded and realistic” remake where Fozzy is played by a real live bear wearing a pork pie hat and spotty necktie, then that's a whole other story. Suspend your disbelief and superheroes are less like the police or army and more akin to volunteers and activists, doing what they can with what they have to improve the lives of those around them. Their actions take the form of crime fighting only because that’s what makes for exciting colourful adventure stories for children.

In the MCU, even Marvel’s poster boy, Spider-Man (another champion of non-lethal solutions, known for his compassion even to his enemies and who possesses an enduring appeal to young children) is given a literal sheen of the military-industrial complex in the form of “Stark Tech” armour, replete with military grade strike drones. Tony Stark even thought to equip his 15 year old protégé-cum-child soldier with an “Instant Kill Mode”. In a moment played for laughs in Spider-Man: Homecoming, Spider-Man rejects his on-board AI's attempt to activate this feature but seems untroubled that such an option exists and, indeed, come Avengers: Infinity War, he voluntarily deploys it. It’s not clear if Spidey actually does kill any of his alien adversaries, but it seems reasonable to assume that one doesn’t say “Activate Instant Kill Mode” without the intention of ending lives. Fans are expected to smile or applaud as Spider-Man says these words, recognising the call-back to Homecoming, rather than find it a gross misrepresentation of Marvel’s most beloved character or an alarming depiction of a children’s favourite.

The MCU Avengers as a whole are a US government “initiative “. The reluctant superheroes need to be cajoled into putting their differences aside for the greater good by army top brass Nick Fury. In a tweak from the source material, the ‘H' in Fury's organisation, SHIELD, stands for ‘Homeland’, making SHIELD as explicitly American venture as opposed to it being ostensibly intergovernmental in the comics.

There is a comic book precedent for this military take on Earth's Mightiest Heroes in the form of The Ultimates, a 2002 series by the British team of writer Mark Millar and artist Bryan Hitch. The Ultimates ,however, was satire. Millar was an unreformed lefty of the old school – someone who has boasted of voting Brexit for left-wing reasons, someone who once appeared on Russia Today as a guest of George Galloway. The Ultimates took swings at the gung ho jingoism of post 9/11 America. Captain America's “Surrender!!?? You think this letter on my head stands for France?“ is not supposed to be a badass one-liner, but rather a parody of the kind of things US media outlets were saying as Jacques Chirac proved less keen than Tony Blair to follow George Bush in bringing gunboat diplomacy to the Middle East. As Millar commentated at the time:

“The Ultimates is completely different because it's a character-driven piece and (something only a few people have noticed) my attempt as a left-wing writer to tell stories about an essentially right-wing concept and cast. It's very much the Anti-Authority, if you will. Captain America and so on are fully-paid members of the US military machine and this means a very different book and approach from a gang of slightly arrogrant, left-wing, superhuman utopians like The Authority ".

Wildstorm Comics' The Authority, which both Millar and Hitch worked on (although not together), was a precursor to Ultimates, featuring a team of similarly “any means necessary” heroes, albeit with a left-wing bent. The Ultimates does have something of The Authority’s utopian streak; Nick Fury and Tony Stark genuinely want to make the world a better place for everyone. It’s very idealistic – what if the head of the military and the biggest tech billionaire actually had the people’s best interests at heart? – and arguably closer to true superhero ethos (basically “with great power there must also come great responsibility “) than those characters more pragmatic MCU equivalents.

Yet, as Millar's one time writing partner Grant Morrison (who actually ghost-wrote at least one issue of The Authority under Miller’s name) observed in Morrison’s major nonfiction work, Supergods, the likes of The Authority, The Ultimates and, by extension, the MCU represent a “capitulation” to the view “that it was really only force and violence that got things done and not patient diplomacy, and that only soldiers and very rich people had the world figured out”. If the MCU is realistic, then it’s a sad indictment of the real world where the heroes are the ones with the best tech, the best guns and no compunction about using them.

Regardless of intent, The Ultimates left a door at Marvel’s “House of Ideas” just enough ajar to allow a malign notion to creep in: “These soldier superheroes are pretty cool. What If they were like that all the time? Wouldn’t they be more popular then”?

Certainly the navy SEAL aesthetic Bryan Hitch brought to the costumes (replacing the colourful tights and capes with pouches, straps and body armour) was soon adopted by superhero tv and film productions even pre-MCU. In fact, Hawkeye's journey from carny to commando mirrors the changes in superhero attire. Most famously, Superman's appearance with the red “overpants” derives from that of circus strongmen, but seeing any photography of early to mid 20th century carnival and circus performers makes it clear the early superhero creators had them in mind when they first put pencil to paper.

In an interview (found in Marvel Spotlight: Captain America, published in 2009) Hitch related how he showed an initial Ultimates drawing of Captain America with a machine gun to Grant Morrison, which Morrison then “described as the most obscene Captain America image [they’d] ever seen”. (NB: Morrison has since adopted gender neutral pronouns). Perhaps Morrison said this with glee, in on the joke with their friends, but in the years since, Cap with a gun became a common sight, even in family-friendly movies (where it was divorced from the irony of The Ultimates).

By a 2015 interview, Morrison lamented the fact that “the Avengers work for the government, and it's been like that since Mark [Millar] did The Ultimates” and said they were “bored with the idea that the best superheroes can represent is some aggressive version of the military. [...] They're supposed to be champions of the oppressed, they help ordinary people, they make things better for people. They don't prop up our grotesque, doddering culture of war and aggression”.

That same year Morrison introduced a new comic book superteam in the pages of The Multiversity. Pointedly the text likens this group, named “Justice Incarnate”, to a “cosmic neighbourhood watch” rather than any formal military or law-enforcement institution.

Millar himself reunited with his Authority collaborator Frank Quitely to create the comic Jupiter’s Legacy, which comes across in part as an apology for The Ultimates and all it begat. It concludes with the protagonists, Chloe Sampson and Eddie "Hutch" Hutchence taking up superhero mantles and promising not to make the moral compromises of their predecessors:

“No more bowing to authority and insitutions. No more deference to people in power”.

“There's a dignity in public service we mistook for old-fashioned, and a humility in having a secret identity, living among the people we protect.“

The Avengers, Marvel’s breakthrough billion dollar box office 2012 movie, by contrast, concludes with Iron Man dropping a nuclear bomb on the “Chitari”, an invading alien army and it seems likely this influenced Morrison’s comments on modern superhero stories.

In Supergods, Morrison

describes their childhood dread of nuclear weapons. The child of “ban the bomb” activists, the “gruesome hand-drawn images of how the world might look after a spirited thermonuclear missile exchange” which illustrated their parents anti-nuclear literature struck terror into the young Morrison. Therefore they seized upon superheroes as being an idea powerful enough to counteract – and overcome – the idea of the bomb.

“It’s not that I needed Superman to be “real,” I just needed him to be more real than the Idea of the Bomb that ravaged my dreams”.

Within the narrative of the movie, Iron Man takes the only option available to him to save New York. Destroying thousands of alien lives to save thousands of human ones. But The Avengers isn’t a documentary; the scriptwriters could have written a satisfying denouement which didn’t involve mass murder. They could at least have included some words of regret by the heroes over what it took to win, acknowledging that killing is not the ideal solution. Instead the Avengers trade banter and eat shawarma, collective conscious clear.

There is a moment in another Grant Morrison work, Final Crisis, which always brings the MCU to mind. In Final Crisis #3, drawn by JG Jones, (published in 2008, the same year the MCU began) “evil gods” from a higher plain of existence have been reincarnated on Earth. In order for the Justice League to counter this threat, a “draft for Superheroes” is implemented. Green Arrow (a Batman-a-like character who was subsequently reinvented to embody the countercultural sentiment of the late 1960s and has since served as the social conscious of the superhero set) responds to receiving his draft notice thusly:

“If anybody falls for this authoritarian, militaristic crap, it’ll prove I’m absolutely right about absolutely everything!... “

Cue the next page, where the drafted heroes have gathered en mass (including Green Arrow, impotently shaking his fist.)

Such an assemblage of characters in usually a triumphant moment in a summer "event" story, but here is framed as a sign that evil already has it’s hooks into reality. This world has fallen to the darkness and the superheroes who inhabit it are too morally compromised to realise it.

#the marvels #mcu #the avengers #grant morrison #mark millar #bryan hitch #the ultimates #marvel #dc comics #the authority #opinion #long form #comics #movies #superheroes #superhero #spider man #mcu critical #marvel critical #mcu criticism

[dangertoozmanykids101]

Toozmanykids Writing Prompt

OMG. I am laughing so hard that I don't even remember why I opened YouTube this morning in the first place. This John Mulaney short automatically started playing and immediately I knew it had to be a Writing Prompt for today. Right??? At least a drabble?

Here. I'll start.

Unfortunately, no smut. It was going to be quick and funny quips at each other, yet I don't think it turned out that way by the time I got done. BUT AT LEAST THIS PROMPT GOT ME WRITING! RIGHT? Now it's your turn, y'all!

SUMMARY: No smut. Just Avengers getting on each other's nerves. Not as funny as it should've been. Damnit.

No warnings.

Word count: 730

Do you believe in ghosts?

The Quinjet had been circling for hours a ways off shore, low to the water to avoid detection, while two dozen of Tony's surveillance drones quietly searched miles of coastline for the mission's target. Four friendly neighborhood Avengers waited patientły impatiently aboard, going stir crazy quicker than anyone would admit.

The silence was thick and tense, but far more preferable to the alternative.

"Hey Mr. Stark—"

"Don't. Just don't," Tony cut off the eager new Avenger. The other two passengers groaned at the sound of Peter's voice. Again.

"But—"

"I swear if you ask me one more 'Would You Rather...?' question, I will rip Charlotte's Web right out of your insides, wrap you up into a perfect spider snack, and feed you to that starving pig."

"Geezus, Tony. Wilbur would never have eaten Charlotte," Natasha pretended to placate Tony, not even attempting to hide her smirk.

"No. No. It's not another 'Would You Rather...?' question, I promise. I got that message loud and clear the second time Miss Romanoff held a blade to my throat." Peter's hand travelled up to his throat while his other waved at Tony in surrender.

Natasha gave Peter a tiny wink when he glanced over his shoulder and offered her a sheepish and awkward smile.

"I told you, she doesn't joke when she's holding a knife," Tony cautioned again.

"Yes, she does! All the time."

"The kid's right, Tony," Natasha admitted. "I prefer to stay unpredictable."

"So Mr. Stark," Peter quickly changed the subject, still gently rubbing his neck. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

"Of course I do," Tony answered without hesitation or even a glance away from the computer screen.

"Seriously? Even after all we've seen?" Peter moved forward, leaning closer to Tony.

Natasha spun her chair to face Tony and gave him her full attention as well. "Yeah, Tony. Seriously?"

"Especially after all we've seen. I'm surprised at you two. How can you not?"

"Have you ever seen a ghost, Mr. Stark?"

"That's a ridiculous question," still not looking away from his computer screen.

"Why is it ridiculous? Have you?"

"Oh damn," slamming his hands onto his knees. "I knew I was forgetting something. I'm so sorry." Sitting up straighter, Tony turned his chair toward the back of the jet and shouted, "Hey Manchurian Candidate! I guess I never properly introduced you to the team."

In the far back end of the jet, camouflaged within the shadows wearing all black combat armor, the fourth passenger hadn't said a single word since boarding. He sat slouched in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, and knees spread wide above huge heavy black steel tipped boots polished to a shine, reflecting the only light in the tailend to infiltrate his shadows. His face was hidden by shaggy brown hair and a well worn baseball cap pulled down low.

"Baby Spider and the Spider Queen are your chippy little cohorts today if we ever spot this asshole and can touch down. Spidey friends, may I present our very own paranormal soldier, Sergeant Bucky Barnes."

"High-fucking-larious, Stark. Now fuck off," Bucky grumbled, pulling the bill of his hat even farther down over his face to look like he was napping.

"Holy shit! I didn't even know he was on board. How did I not sense him?" Peter shouted.

"That's my point, kid," Tony said. "He must be a ghost. Think about it. There's no other answer. He's straight up Jacob Marley, but missing the heavy chains with a door knocker for a nose."

They all burst into laughter - all but Bucky who grumbled some more.

After about an hour or so, Peter walked to the back of the jet and cautiously sat down next to Bucky.

The soldier didn't say anything; he didn't move; he didn't even look to be breathing.

Leaning toward him, Peter softly asked him, "You're not really a ghost, are you sir?"

"I have no idea," Bucky answered flatly and with finality.

Peter's eyes widened, more unsure of his beliefs after that cryptic non-answer than he was before he asked.

"Oh... Yes, sir," Peter said as he retreated back to his chair next to Tony.

Silence hung heavily in the Quinjet after that.

Finally.

Bucky gave Natasha a wink at one point when their eyes met. Eventually Peter would ask more questions, but they enjoyed the silence as long as it lasted.

The End.

It's a new year, and I'm going to be push myself harder to actually post. Good, bad, stupid, or slutty - I'm gonna post stuff anyway. This will be the year of drabbles, false starts, unfinished stories, and plots that go nowhere.

JUST WRITE AND POST, TOOZ!

JUST WRITE AND POST—OFTEN!

My drabble here didn't turn out the way I had planned, but I can see this idea take a fun turn if Bucky actually is a ghost. He could be!!!

He could be trapped on Earth and tethered to his super soldier body that won't decay. At least MOST of the missions Hydra sent him on were to kill other bad guys. Right?

Tony had some other theories too. But it's 3am and now I don't remember what his theory was. Grrrrr.

Anyone else looking for some inspiration?

@nildespirandum @ladyoftheteaandblood @caffiend-queen @redfoxwritesstuff @so-easy-to-love-me @acidcasualties @americasass81 @jtargaryen18 @alexakeyloveloki @devikafernando @spectre-posts @wiypt-writes @nonsensicalobsessions @latent-thoughts @mastreworld @talklokitome @wolfsmom1 @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @holymultiplefandomsbatman @muddyorbs @fictive-sl0th @villainousshakespeare @liminalpebble @jobean12-blog

I really hope to post more this year. I'm serious. AND I'll do an actual tag list. Please confirm if you want to see my stuff or prefer that I leave you alone. You are not required to listen to my drivel for me to still love reading from your blog. I promise. Honest. Just let me know.

#toozmanykids #tooz writing prompts #tooz prompt

[heartsandmuses]

weekly lineup

for @stonyauniverse january week 3 // "nice try, canon"

for @warmandfluffybingocards // square: "free space"

marvel cinematic universe. tony stark/steve rogers. rated g. 1k.

canon-divergent au where steve and tony are still alive to lead the next generation of avengers.

— — —

Tony’s favorite thing about spending Sunday mornings in the Compound was watching Steve post the weekly team lineup.

“Alright, no pushing and shoving, this’ll be up here all week. You can take a look at it whenever you need to, okay?” Steve reminded everybody, though his gaze drifted pointedly toward the kids—the newer recruits—who were practically bouncing in their seats out of pure excitement. Slowly, Steve grabbed a Mjlonir-shaped magnet and stuck the roster in its usual spot on the fridge, backing a few steps away before he said, “Okay, it’s up! Go ahead, everyone. And remember — if your name’s at the top, you’re on-call this week, if you’re at the bottom, you’re on the reserve team, and if you’re not up there at all, you’ve got the week off.”

The words were like a starting shot, and despite Steve’s warning to take things slow, Peter, Kamala, and Kate all made a mad dash towards the list. Honestly, Tony was surprised none of them had knocked over any of the kitchen stools in their haste, though it seemed like Peter nearly tripped over himself on the way, his spidey-senses catching him just in time.

Steve looked over at Tony as if to say, can you believe this? even though he’d witnessed this exact scene play out countless times before. Tony just smiled behind his mug of coffee and offered a fond shake of his head to reply, I know.

It was a good system they had going on. Now that the rotating lineup of Avengers was growing every day, only about half the team needed to be on-call anymore, barring an actual end-of-the-universe level threat. And with so many newer, younger team members coming in, it only made sense to pair each of them up with a more experienced, more seasoned pro to learn the ropes. They trained together, they went on missions together, they learned from each other, and the next week, the newbies were partnered with someone else to repeat the process. It allowed them to hone different skills with different mentors, and see which personalities and powers meshed well together. 

It was certainly working out well so far, Tony had to admit. The newer Avengers were already starting to show a ton of improvement from all of the practice and mentorship, and the older ones benefited immensely from the occasional time off. Even if all the gods and super-soldiers around here weren’t slowed down by age, they still could use the rest — missions could be just as emotionally and mentally draining as they were physically, sometimes even more so.

In any case, it sure made things a lot easier than being on-call—and on edge—24/7. Besides, there was something to be said about having a general work-life balance, something that Tony wouldn’t have even dreamed of back in the early days. Now, he was finding that it wasn’t so bad, taking some time for himself. For the people he cared about.

He exchanged another glance with his co-captain.

“Come on, move over, I wanna see!” Kamala said, stuck peering over Peter and Kate’s shoulders, the shortest of the three of them.

“Aha! I got Natasha!” Kate said, finally moving out of Kamala’s way to give Nat a high-five.

“I’m with Thor!” Kamala announced, once she found her name on the roster. “Oh, this is gonna be so cool!”

"I've got Captain Rogers!" Peter glanced at Tony with a bright grin. “And— did you see, Mr. Stark? You're not up here this week!”

“I did see, Mr. Parker,” Tony replied with a laugh. “I made that list, y’know. Well, helped make it. If I had it entirely my way, Steve and I would both be getting the week off.”

His pointed look was met with a fond eye-roll, as Steve settled into the seat next to him. “We will, soon enough,” he promised, giving Tony a gentle pat on the arm in consolation. “Once we know that the trainees can handle themselves without us.”

“Hey, c’mon, give us some credit,” Kate scoffed. “We’ve been doing great so far!”

“She’s got a point there, Cap,” Natasha chimed in. “It won’t be the end of the world if you and Tony take a vacation. And if it is, we’ll call you back in.“

“Yeah, we’ve got things covered,” Kamala said confidently.

But before anyone else could offer up their two cents on the matter, the alarm went off overhead. Over the speakers, Maria Hill announced, “We’ve found a hidden HYDRA base operating out of the Catskills. All on-call team members and trainees report to the Quinjet immediately.”

Steve stood back up, just as the rest of the team turned their attention to him, waiting for orders. “Alright, Avengers, if you wanna prove something, now’s the time. Let’s give it our best out there,” he said, gaze softening as he looked over the newer recruits, then his husband. “And depending on how it goes, we can reconsider next week’s roster.”

Tony’s expression brightened, and he couldn’t help but lean in for a brief kiss, ignoring all of the feigned gagging from the rest of the team. When he pulled back, it was with a dazzling, determined smile. “Well, you heard him, everyone — suit up and head out! It’s time to kick some ass!”

Steve gave Tony a nudge. “You wanna do the honors?”

“Oh, no, you’ve got it, sweetheart. It’s your week, anyway.”

The anticipation in the room was nearly palpable as Steve cleared his throat. “Avengers, assemble!” he called, and everybody moved at once, rushing to get ready.

As always, the kids were the first ones out the door. 

#stonyjanuary #tony stark #steve rogers #stony #otp: put on the suit #iron man #captain america #the avengers #kate bishop #kamala khan #peter parker #natasha romanoff #thor odinson #maria hill #warm and fluffy bingo #warmandfluffybingo #ficlets #fics #my fics #my writing #amy talks

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

evermore

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Prompt - ‘And I couldn't be sure I had a feeling so peculiar this pain wouldn't be for evermore.’

You and Matt had been sitting together on his rooftop, neither of you donned your costumes, content to just sit together under the mid-morning sun, your hands playing with Matt’s and sharing soft kisses. It wasn’t until you pulled away that you saw, off in the distance, a spaceship suddenly appear, the round ship causing your eyes to widen as you listened to Matt and headed downstairs into the apartment, switching on the TV you insisted he have and watching the events play out.

The Avengers, or whatever was left of the Avengers honestly you weren’t sure who was a member and who wasn’t anymore, seemed to have it covered. There was footage of a wizard or two who you didn’t know, Tony Stark was there and you recognised Bruce Banner, then there were the aliens. Whilst there was no sound you could see one of them talking, Tony Stark not looking impressed and cutting him off before the wizards used their powers and suddenly they were fighting.

“Hey, is that Spidey?” You grinned at Matt when you saw a familiar figure swing into frame and Matt raised an eyebrow at you before shaking his head.

“Isn’t this above Spider-Man’s paygrade?” Matt groaned and you laughed before turning back to the screen.

Both of you knew Spider-Man fairly well at this point, neither you or Matt had shared who you were under your masks and neither had Spidey but sometimes he swung by the Kitchen and he was always fun to fight alongside.

You continued to watch the screen, narrating what was going on as it happened, laughing about how insane the camera people were, literal aliens were tearing the streets of New York apart and they were still getting the money shot.

“Wait…” You said, sitting straighter in your seat and leaning forward, Matt raising an eyebrow as he waited for you to continue. “Spider-Man’s on the spaceship…and the spaceship’s gone.”

“Spider-Man was on it?” Matt asked, feeling a wave of worry for the kid because at the end of the day that’s all he was, a kid who put way too much responsibility on his shoulders.

“Iron Man’s heading up too so he should be good.” You said, leaning back into the sofa and letting out a deep breath before cuddling into Matt’s chest, his arm going around your shoulders.

“Aliens.” You grimaced, years of living in New York, years of playing vigilante and you still didn’t think you’d ever get used to everything that happened here.

“Let’s just hope they don’t come back.” Matt chuckled as he pulled you closer, placing a kiss to your head and you nodded before reaching over to turn the TV off, not needing to see reruns of the fight.

It was only a few hours later, you and Matt were back on his rooftop, Matt was talking about the people of New York and what they were doing. It was amazing how everybody was able to simply snap back and carry on with their lives like aliens hadn’t invaded this morning. It was truly ridiculous really and you couldn’t help but smile as you cuddled into Matt who was telling you about a business meeting happening right next to the clean up where cars had been tossed around the streets.

“There’s a school field trip, not too far away, a bunch of kids at MOMA still talking about the spaceship whilst their teacher tries to get them to focus on the trip.” Matt told you as he ran his fingers through your hair, yours trailing along his stomach. “He’s not having much luck.”

“Aliens invade the Earth and everything continues on as normal.” You laughed softly and felt more than heard Matt’s chuckle as it rumbled in his chest. “I think I’ll stick to criminals and the occasional ninja.”

“Not ready to take on the aliens yet? Join the Avengers?” Matt asked and you turned to muffle a laugh into his chest causing his smile to widen.

“I think I’ll stick to our little corner of Hell’s Kitchen, leave the aliens to someone else.” You said because as much as you liked fighting at Spider-Man’s side, especially on the few occasions you’d joined in a bigger fight, you couldn’t stomach the thought of going up against aliens, against powers you knew nothing about.

“Yeah,” Matt sighed softly, tilting your head back gently with the hand in your hair. “I like our little corner.”

You smiled into the kiss as Matt leaned down and you met him half way, the kiss wasn’t hurried, there was no urgency in it. It was soft and lazy, both of you taking your time, not in any rush, both content in each other’s arms.

It was only when Matt pulled away with a frown did you feel a sense of urgency, not quite sure why yet but if Matt was making that face then something was definitely wrong. He stayed silent for a few moments, crease apearing in between his eyebrows as he tilted his head, listening for something you couldn’t hear and you hoped it was just him deciding if a situation needed Daredevil’s intervention.

But when Matt shot up into a sitting position, forcing you up with him from your spot on his chest, you panicked. Matt’s face had gone pale, paler than you’d ever seen with the only exception being when he’d lost too much blood. His head tilted further to the side like he was straining to hear something before his mouth fell open with a silent gasp and you could see his eyes widen.

You trusted Matt’s judgement and for him to look this scared, this worried and confused then you knew you should be scared too.

“Matt, what’s happening?” You asked and it seemed to pull Matt’s attention back to you, shaking his head almost in disbelief but he didn’t answer for a long moment. You could tell he wasn’t ignoring your question, could see the way his mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. “Matt please, you’re scaring me.”

“Something’s wrong.” He told you, his head shifting in every direction like he was hearing too much at once. “The city, it’s…”

In all the time you’d known Matt, from first time meeting him when you were both hidden under your masks to the time you’d spent together as Matt and Y/N, you’d never seen him like this before.

It was terrifying.

“Matt, please tell me what���s happening.” It had to be the aliens, it was the only explanation but you couldn’t see any giant spaceships, no aliens ascending from the sky. As you glanced around it just looked like a regular day.

“It’s, I don’t know, it’s like people are disappearing. I can’t hear- Y/N, I can’t hear their heartbeats, they’re just gone, they’re going out.” Matt told you, turning his attention back to you as his voice trailed into a whisper and you stared back at him with wide eyes.

“What do you mean, gone?” You asked as a wave of anxiety flooded through you and Matt shook his head, turning back towards the streets as he listened.

“I don’t know, I just-” Matt began but cut himself off, his head snapping around to face you, wearing an expression you’d only ever seen once on his face.

It was the expression he wore when you had been shot, he could hear everything and he barely got you to Claire before your breaths came few and far between. Claire had barely managed to bring you back to him but you still remembered that haunted look on his face and swore you’d be more careful because you never wanted to see it again.

And now here it was and you didn’t know why.

Not until you looked down anyway, a strange sensation running through your body and you let out a panicked cry as you saw your hand breaking off and separating into tiny specks of dust.

“No, no, no..” Matt’s voice had you snapping your head up to look at him, tears stinging at your eyes and you could see them pooling in his.

“Matt, what’s happening to me?” You asked, the tears slipping down your cheeks and Matt let out a choked sobbed, pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly like he could keep you in one piece. “Matt, I’m scared.”

“No, no, shh, you’re ok, you’re ok.” Matt murmured, his lips finding their way to your forehead, letting them linger there and you could feel his tears wetting your skin.

“Matt, plea…” Your voice trailed off into nothing and Matt was slumping over, you suddenly not in his arms and your breathing, your sobs, your heartbeat was just gone, like it hadn’t been there to begin.

The tears fell past Matt’s eyes, heartbroken sobs leaving him as he stayed hunched over on the roof of his building and as he cried he heard so many in the city doing the exact same thing whilst more and more heartbeats faded into nothing.

The Blip.

That’s what they were calling the damn thing. The thing that took you had a name and Matt despised it.

It had been eight months, eight months since that warm, sunny day in spring, eight months since you had been taken from him. Now it was November, the sky was grey and Matt could still hear the fear in your voice as you pleaded with him. Eight months without you, eight months where he had become nothing but a shell of himself.

Eight months of replaying every memory he had of you because the thought of forgetting you sent an ache through his heart. Eight months of thinking about all the words he should have said to you, words he would never get to say to you.

Matt stood by the window, the weather seemed to match his mood. He could hear the rain smacking against the window and the pavement, could hear the rumble of thunder, could feel the coldness on his skin but he didn’t care.

He’d been numb since that day all those months ago. At first he put on the Daredevil suit every day and found bad guys to take his anger, his pain, out on. Frank’s words had run heavy in his head, letting him know he was only one bad day away from being him and Matt knew he was right, he just didn’t think the bad day that would push him over the edge would be losing you.

It had seemed so unimaginable months ago that it never even crossed his mind. When you put on your mask you were always with him, fighting side by side, he always had your back so he knew you’d be safe.

But now you were gone and Matt was left alone. It had been months since he put the suit on, it didn’t feel right anymore, like it suddenly didn’t fit but he knew it was because you weren’t there with him. Daredevil had worked alone for so long before you showed up but then you had refused to leave and he found he actually liked working with you.

Matt couldn’t even remember why he used to put on the suit, couldn’t remember what he used to fight for. Everything seemed so pointless without you. How was he expected to just go on about his life? How could he pretend that he was ok when he felt like a piece of him had been ripped away?

He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t fake it until it didn’t hurt anymore because it would always hurt, he knew the pain and heartbreak and the rage he felt would be for evermore.

Somehow five years passed, five long painful years. Matt was surprised he was still alive in all honesty because he had completely lost himself. Considering how reluctant he had been to let you into his life at all back in those early days, he had to hand it to you, you really had wormed your way deep into his life, entwining yourself around every part of it and making it impossible for him to move on.

Not that I ever tried to move on, Matt mused to himself as he walked the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. He was practically catching his death, the cold was bitingly chilly and the rain was almost painful but still he hadn’t bothered to grab a coat on his way out of the door. He just needed to be out of the apartment.

What had once been an empty place had been filled with lots of little trinkets and all the things that made it feel like a home. Sometimes Matt thought about moving, there was too much you in the apartment but ultimately he never did, he couldn’t leave behind something that was a part of you.

It had been five years and Matt hated himself for forgetting the sound of your laughter, he hated that he knew your favourite song but couldn’t remember how you sounded as you sung it whilst dancing around his kitchen, he hated that his sheets and his sweaters didn’t smell like you anymore.

It had been five years since you died and five years since Matt Murdock became a ghost, still alive but really he had died that day with you. Some days he thought about doing it, about ending his pain but he could never do it, catholic guilt and all that.

He knew he’d feel this loss until he took his last breath and some days he longed to put the suit back on, to pick a fight and not fight like he used to, to let the other guy get the hits in until Matt felt himself slipping away from the world.

It was tempting but he couldn’t bring himself to do that either. So instead he was doomed to this life, for the pain to last for evermore.

He was so lost in thought that he missed it at first. It wasn’t until he bumped into somebody that definitely hadn’t been there moments before that he took notice, his eyes widening, breath catching as he heard it.

Heartbeat after heartbeat, it was almost overwhelming and Matt couldn’t stop the strangled sob that left him. More and more heartbeats returned, Matt could hear every single one of them, could hear the excited yells and confused murmurs.

It had been five years, five long, lonely, heartbreakingly exhausting years since you died. Five years since Matt Murdock last felt happy but here in the streets of Hell’s Kitchen a grin broke out across his face, tears pouring from his eyes and he didn’t hesitate to turn around.

He ran, he ran like his life depended on it because it did. As he got closer to the apartment he paused, nearly tripping himself up because there, that was a heartbeat Matt Murdock knew, one he had forgotten the sound of but now he heard it again it was hard to remember how he could have ever forgotten.

He kept running, he ran all the way up the stairs and through his apartment before he was on the roof and there you were. It was really you.

“Matt?” You asked and Matt felt his knees buckle beneath him, barely managing to hold himself upright as he forced his feet to move towards you.

He had to know you were real and when he lifted his hand and cupped your cheek he couldn’t stop the heaving sobs that escaped him and he buried his face against your neck, holding you tightly against him.

“Hey, it’s alright, you’re ok.” You murmured, rubbing your hand up and down his back whilst the other wrapped around his waist. “You’re ok, what happened?”

You didn’t know, Matt thought. He had gone through the worst five years of his life and you had no idea what had happened. Matt was going to have to be the one to explain that five years had passed without you, that the world had somehow carried on without you.

But that didn’t matter right now, Matt wasn’t sure he was capable of words at that moment. The tears and sobs weren’t slowing down but he didn’t care, it had been so long, so damn long, he never thought he’d have you back and now that you were here Matt was never letting you go again.

“Matt, baby,” You whispered, kissing his hair and pulling him closer.

You were so painfully confused, mind fuzzy and unable to remember anything. One minute it was sunny and you had been on the roof with Matt, the next it was pouring down and Matt was nowhere to be seen. You’d only been out in the rain for a few moments before Matt had burst onto the roof like a mad man, staring straight at you like you were a ghost.

“Hey baby, can we go inside, I don’t want you to get sick.” You said softly, noticing how pale Matt had been before he hid himself away in your neck. You had seen the dark circles that were practically black eyes and how gaunt his features were, it looked like you weren’t the only ghost on the roof.

Matt didn’t say anything for a long moment but then he nodded into your neck, placing a kiss to your skin causing you to shiver before he pulled away, his hand coming up to cup your cheek again and he brought your foreheads together.

“I’ve missed you so much.” He whispered brokenly and despite having no clue what was going on you felt your heart break for him.

It wasn’t long before the two of you were in dry clothes and Matt had you tucked under the covers on the bed, pulling you against his chest and holding you tightly in his arms, terrified that you’d disappear again.

“Think you can tell me what’s going on now?” You murmured as your fingers drew random shapes into his chest, from where you lay you could feel Matt’s heart hammering against his chest and though he had managed to stop the sobs there were still tears falling down his face.

It wasn’t long before you were in the same position, tears pouring down your cheeks as you held Matt close to you, heart breaking as you listened to him describe what had happened five years ago and all the time in between. Hearing how lost, how broken and lonely he was, hearing that he had been ready to join you years ago, God you were a sobbing mess by the time he was done and the two of you could do nothing but cry and hold each other close.

And yet even with the tears falling down his face Matt felt better than he had in years, somehow you were back from the dead and he would never take a single day for granted again. Matt had thought for sure the rest of his life would be filled with pain and nothing else, yet here you were and Matt knew the pain wouldn’t be for evermore.

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