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blindingdutchy · 3 years

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lamentation | SEVEN

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 4,000

warnings: fluff. angst. language. not even sure why i warn for angst anymore this whole story is just angsty af

18+!!! minors stay away!

In the following few weeks, you realized two things. One: Peter Parker was definitely not subtle. The other being that you were definitely in way over your head. There was no denying the stupid butterflies in your stomach anymore, or the way you found yourself expecting his touch before it even came.

It seemed as though the two of you were like magnets; a constant tug gravitating the pair of you back to each other with an unstoppable force. If you weren't together, he was on your mind, and like he could sense you thinking of him he'd be quick to reach out in some way or another. Be it appearing at your side, all happy grins and playful eyes, or calling your phone no matter the time with his stupidly adorable stutter--Peter seemed to think of you just as much as you thought of him.

The more that you thought of him, the more that you wished you didn't. It was terrifying. You wished that you could pull away again, to push him back out of your heart and lock those iron bars tight once more, but your heart had grown selfish and stubborn. It was as if you were the one locked out anymore; the control over your feelings slipping further and further from your clutches with every toothy smile Peter sent your way.

Like a magnet, he held you in place. Oh, to be held by... You slapped a pillow over your face and screamed, holding it so tightly that your nose ached and you couldn't breath. Peter Parker was like a disease. A stupid, all-consuming, utterly infatuating disease of the mind and the spirit.

You knew that you were wasting time, undoubtedly causing yourself to risk being late for school with every minute that passed as you continued to lay in your bed, but you couldn't bring yourself to get up. Already, your mother and father both had knocked at your door on multiple occasions and questioned if you were sick, and now you were regretting saying no. It would have been so easy to avoid him if you'd just played hookie.

But, with midterms in the near future, you knew it wasn't the best idea. The realization had come to you in the night. A moment so insignificant, so mundane, but it had been as if a switch were flipped in your mind. A light was turned on, so to speak, and illuminated all the thoughts and emotions you'd been so tirelessly repressing.

Talking on the phone with Peter was like a drug, and talking on the phone to him at night was a dangerous game. Under the dull light of a crescent moon and the ridiculous teddy-bear night light that was plugged into your wall, a lingering remnant of your sister's presence in the space, your inhibitions were always low. With sleepiness your walls were always lowered, and he'd unknowingly put a fatal crack in the foundation.

You rolled onto your stomach on your bed, kicking your feet through the air like a little kid as you fought back the grin that always seemed to worm its way across your lips when you were talking to him. "So, how do you like Ned and MJ?" Peter asked, and you could almost picture him mirroring your position as you heard the quiet rustle of blankets over the line. A little giggle bubbled out of your mouth at the thought.

What a sight that would be, Peter kicking his legs to and fro like a school girl in love. "They're cool. I kinda like that MJ doesn't even pretend to hide the fact that she thinks I'm weird. I don't--I don't know, it's refreshing I guess. Ned's sweet." you rambled, and it was the truth.

Ned and MJ were easily slipping into the fortress that shielded your heart with every passing day. Somehow, it wasn't as terrifying as you'd expected it to be. Perhaps that was because they didn't harbor a secret identity with which they risked their lives every single night, or maybe it was just because you'd come to realize that letting people in wasn't so bad. Not everyone was going to die on you.

Michelle Jones really didn't pretend not to think you were weird, not even a little bit. Her blunt and honest nature was a nice change from the quiet stares that seemed to follow your every move; MJ wasn't much for staring. Rather, she boldly told you what she was thinking without any shred of doubt.

And Ned, sweet Ned Leeds, was like a puppy personified. Always happy, always smiling, and always waiting to offer you compliments when you approached. You couldn't remember the last time someone had dared compliment your hair, your smile, or your outfits. Ned made it impossible to feel anything but comfort and joy in his presence, even his awkward nature was endearing.

"I'm glad." Peter hummed, "They really like you. To be honest, though, I kinda like it when it's just us. Maybe I should have waited a little longer to share you."

There was a pang in your chest at his words. Peter had been subtly flirting with you for days now, but this was more direct. He didn't have to come right out and say it for his implications to come across loud and clear, and that magnetic pull grew stronger.

So strong, in fact, that you murmured back, "I like it when it's just us, too."

If you had just kept your mouth shut, maybe he wouldn't have been so bold as to say, "Not gonna let them steal your heart from me, are you?"

The words were right at the tip of your tongue. Your heart was screaming, never! Nobody could ever steal me away from you, Peter! Yet, your mind was racing with a million and one horrible thoughts that made you feel as though your mouth was full of mud.

The silence between yourself and Peter grew thick as it drew on, no words escaping your lead-like lips. The voice in your brain, the one that sounded like your sister yet you knew was not her, was ringing in your ears. How could you ever fall in love, when she never could? How could you give your heart away, when she never had the chance?

You took that chance away from her. You stole it. This thing, whatever the weird force between the two of you was, was all stolen time, stolen opportunities, and stolen lives.

"Good night, (Y/N). I'll see you at school?"

You whispered, "Yes." The line went dead, and you felt cold.

Those simple words from Peter, with meaning and intention that was far from simple, were all it took to send the walls, bars, and barbed wire around your heart crumbling into nothing. With no protection, no barrier between yourself and the dangers of everyone else, your mind was working on overdrive. It would have been so easy to let him in, had that voice remained quiet, and yet you were steadily building those bricks back into place.

Now, all that was left to do was to steal your heart back. When had he managed to take it from you? Had he snuck in during the night, slipping through the strategically placed cracks and weak points he'd created, and stole away with it undetected? Had he taken it that first night, without you ever noticing?

As you finally released the pressure over the pillow on your face, sucking in a shaky breathe and letting all the heavy things crash over you again, tears burned your eyes. You didn't want to push Peter away. You didn't want to be the reason he was hurt, upset, or angry--you weren't ready to be the villain in his story.

"Mom?" you called out, knowing she was lingering close by.

Proving you correct, the door to your bedroom cracked open only seconds later and your mother's worried eyes fell upon your blinking ones. She definitely saw the troubled look on your face, the tears in your eyes, yet she held back from mentioning any of it as she asked, "Are you sick, honey?"

You nodded, the lump in your throat aiding your act as you croaked, "Yes. I don't feel good."

She frowned a little, knowing that you were bending the truth of the matter. Your mother was perceptive, and with the emotion all over your face, it easy for her to know that this wasn't some stomach bug or sore throat. To your relief, though, she resigned, "I'll call you out of school for the day. I'll be in my office if you need me."

Tomorrow, you could be the villain. For today, though, you were content to avoid your troubles and wallow in your self pity. At least this way you had some time to slip back into your stoic, cold demeanor before you had to face him. Time to prepare yourself to be alone again, because you knew that once you pushed Peter Parker away, Ned and MJ would be quick to follow him.

Sleep didn't come for you like you hoped it would. Well, it did, but then you found yourself dreaming of Peter and woke with a start. School had started an hour ago, and already there were a flurry of confused and increasingly alarmed messages from him lighting up your phone screen. Even though you couldn't hold back from reading them, you locked it before you found yourself replying as if on autopilot.

Pete: are you late

Pete: i'm at your locker

Pete: hello?

Pete: i'm going to class... see you there?

Pete: are you okay? you said you'd be here

Pete: at least let me know you're aldkhdkfj

You spent the day in your room, ignoring Peter and ignoring the world. Occasionally your mother would crack open your door to check on you, fussing over feeling your forehead despite the fact that you both knew you didn't have a fever, and tittering little comments about getting rest and staying hydrated. She knew you weren't sick, yet you were grateful she didn't try to pry.

As much as you wanted to tell her all of the things that were on your mind, the reasons that you were upset, you couldn't. You couldn't tell her all of the awful things you were thinking, and see the way her face would contort in anguish over you. You certainly couldn't listen to her telling you that it wasn't your fault, you weren't wrong for liking a boy, and your sister would want you to be happy. Even if you knew, in some deep part of your brain, that it was true.

Pete: got my phone taken in calculus sorry

Pete: I'm at lunch now, are you okay?

Pete: are you sick?

Pete: like... actually sick?

Peter really was relentless. You wondered how long it would take for him to catch onto what you were doing, or if he would at all. Would he understand why you suddenly gave him the cold shoulder? Would he understand, and be okay when you pushed him away again?

Pete: I'm in speech now.

Pete: we got the class to work on the speech and you're not here

Pete: not that we could do much anyways since you're so stubborn but still

Pete: okay what is going on

Pete: (Y/N)

Pete: please talk to me

Reading all of his messages kept the ache in your chest alive, stopping the numbness from creeping back in. You wished you could put your phone down, turn it off even, but it was like a cruel an addicting game to read each message as it arrived. You found yourself watching the little three dots as he typed another message eagerly, even if he was far from happy.

When school ended, he called. You let it ring each time, watching his name scroll across your screen over and over again until it ended. Once, twice, three times--he finally stopped calling, not leaving a voicemail.

For awhile, you wondered if that was it. Was he done? Had he caught on? Had he figured you out just as easily as he always seemed to do? Had Peter given up?

Pete: i know what you're doing

Pete: i'm sorry if i made you uncomfortable

Pete: we can just be friends if that's what you want

It wasn't what you wanted, and that was the problem. You didn't want to be friends with Peter Parker. Well, you didn't want to just be friends with him. You wanted to know what his touch felt like when it was deliberate and welcoming, not the fleeting and curious brushes of his skin on yours. To be held by him, to taste his lips, to hold his heart in your hands like he already held yours--you wanted so much more than friendship with Peter, and that made you a thief and a fraud.

You: that's not what i want

You were weak. A weak, cowardly idiot is what you were, and you threw your phone on your bed with a groan as you realized what you'd done. The voice in your mind whispered insults, taunting you for being so easily broken.

Pete: what do you mean

You: i don't want to be friends with you Peter

Pete: oh

One simple word, and you realized he had taken that in a completely different way than you had meant it. Yet, you didn't correct him. You didn't explain that you meant you didn't want to just be friends. Maybe this was your chance--an easy way to kick him outside your walls without having to see it firsthand.

The chance didn't last long. A quiet knock sounded on your window, and your heart froze in your chest as you tried to sink deeper into your bed. It was the wind, you told yourself, until the knock sounded again and slightly louder. You could see the shadow on your floor out of the corner of your eye, and you buried your face into your pillow to block it out. If you ignored him, he would go away, and this would all be over.

After a few more knocks, it was silent for awhile, and you tempted a look at the floor only to frown at the sight of the shadow missing. He was gone, and you were alone again. Your lip quivered at the thought; what had you done? It was a mistake. This was a mistake.

You didn't want to push him away. You wanted him to hold your heart. You wanted Peter Parker as your friend, as more than a friend, hell, as anything as long as it was with you. But now? Going back on your word and dragging him back in again would be pathetic. He didn't deserve such treatment, especially not from you.

So, you pulled your pillow back over your face and let the tears fall. Your hot breath burned your eyes and made you feel sticky and gross, but you didn't care one bit. It felt cathartic to cry, like returning to a familiar place you'd been skirting around for ages. Crying over Peter was different than crying over your sister; the hurt was different, but one thing was the same: both were all your fault.

"Go away, mom." you whined, barely hearing the sound of your door unlatching over your muffled sniffles. It creaked further open, and you groaned, pressing the pillow harder onto your face, "Mom, please, I just want to be alone."

A throat cleared, and you froze. That wasn't your mother, the voice was deeper. The sound was still too light to be your father's, though, and that left one option that made your blood run cold. He didn't--did he?

He did. Peter pried the pillow out of your hands, all red cheeks and sad eyes as he stared at you in a sullen silence. "Why are you doing this?" he whispered, "Why are you pushing me away?"

You blinked at him, too paralyzed by the sight of his fluttering eyelids and pouting lips to speak. It must have been a sight to see you like that, your face red and blotchy, streaked with tears and snot that you'd been too lazy to wipe away. He didn't look away from your eyes, though, gazing into them with an intensity that dared you to look away.

Sensing that you weren't going to speak, he pressed on, "(Y/N), what is going on? I don't--It's okay if you don't like me back, I can deal with that. I want to be your friend, though. I thought you wanted to be mine, too."

Voice scratchy, you muttered, "I don't."

Something changed in him, and suddenly Peter was raking a hand through his hair as he frowned deeply. You wanted to smooth the crease between his brows, but you felt frozen. He was angry; he was angry with you, and he didn't hold back as he snapped, "That's bullshit, and you know it. If you didn't want to be friends, then why did you make that deal? Why did you let me make a complete fool of myself just to get your attention? Why did you let me introduce you to my friends? Stop lying to me!"

"I'm not!" you yelped, sitting up frantically and wiping at your face, finally. "I'm not lying, Pete!"

He threw his head back at the nickname, a sigh of exasperation forcing its way from his lips, nostrils flared. "I don't get you, (Y/N). I don't get you at all." he growled, facing you again with a heavy brow.

You gripped your blankets tightly, bunching them around your waist as you blinked at him with wide eyes. "I don't want to just be your friend, Peter!" you burst, "I don't want to just be your friend, and I don't know why. You make me feel all these things that terrify me, but I keep chasing after you and whatever those things are! It was so easy being alone, okay? Then suddenly you came swinging into my life and made everything so--so complicated!"

Your mother's face peered into your room, eyes blown wide in surprise, but the moment you glanced at her she backed away with a bitten smile and you flushed. You didn't get the chance to dwell on the fact that she'd been eavesdropping, though, because Peter sat on the edge of your bed and bit the inside of his cheek, blinking at you with teasing eyes.

"So, you like me?"

Eyes narrowed, you grumbled, "Are you really going to make me say it, Pete? After all of that?"

A sly grin stretched across his lips, cheeks puffing out adorably and making you bite your own to keep from grinning too. He tutted, raising his ruffled brow as he jabbed, "After everything else today? I think it's the least you could do."

You were screwed. His fingertips barely caressed the backs of your knuckles, and you shakily grabbed them before he pulled away again. "I like you, jerk." you mumbled, screwing your eyes shut as you felt your face burn in embarrassment.

Peter just chuckled, squeezing your hand as you felt your bed shift under his weight. "I don't want to just be your friend, either." his breathe fanned over your cheek, and your eyes snapped open to find his face closer than ever. If you just turned, ever so slightly, his lips would brush your own... He kissed your cheek softly, backing away with a tiny smile that you matched. "I like you a lot. Probably more than like, really."

"That scares me." you whispered, eyes still latched onto his, "Peter, you scare me."

He took a long moment to answer, weighing heavily the words he would utter next, before finally telling you, "You scare me, too, but I think it's worth it."

A gentle tapping at your door crashed through the moment, both of your faces burning a deep red as you turned to face your mother's sheepish smile. "Sorry, sorry, don't mind me--"

"Mom!" you wailed, slapping your hands over your face in mortification as she stealthily slipped into your room and dropped a box of condoms onto your dresser before racing away again. "Oh, I can't believe she--Mom! Did you really have to do that?"

Peter was laughing boisterously, head thrown back and eyes shut, though you could tell he was flustered too from the cherry red color that creeped down from his face and under his shirt. As humiliated as you were by your mother's actions, you couldn't help but to feel a little grateful for the interruption. The intensity, the tension in the air, had disappeared with the intrusion, and things felt a little bit lighter again.

You flopped back onto your bed, still pouting over the spectacle, as Peter breathed out, "That's so something Aunt May would have done, too."

At least you weren't alone in the embarrassing family department, you thought to yourself as Peter threw himself down beside you. She meant well, obviously, but did she really think that you and Peter were going to go from admitting you liked each other to ripping each other's clothes off in one night? Well, you were eighteen--maybe she had a bit of a reason to be so hasty.

"Do you think it's worth it?" Peter questioned, and you turned your head to face him, trying to ignore the close proximity of his face to your own. "Liking me?"

You chewed at your lip, listening for that voice in your head that had suddenly gone silent. "Yeah, yeah I do." you responded, and his face split in a blushing smile. You did think it was worth it, because being with him reminded you of all the good feelings you missed out on when he wasn't around. "I just wish we could have been like this before. Maybe then I wouldn't feel like I'm stealing her life."

He grew serious in an instant, eyebrows furrowing as he stated, "I don't." At the sight of your confusion, he continued, "I don't wish we met before. Can you honestly say that you're the same person you were before?"

"No."

He nodded, "Exactly. Stuff like that... It changes you. I would know, remember? You wouldn't be the you that I like, and if Uncle Ben were here maybe I wouldn't be who you like, either."

You had to admit, he had a point. "I guess so." you pondered aloud.

"You're not stealing her life, either, (Y/N). She would have wanted you to be happy, to do all the things she never got to. It took me a long time to stop thinking that way, too, but I did. It wasn't your fault, and you can't miss out on stuff just because of her." Peter advised, and you swallowed down the lump that was growing steadily in your throat, "She didn't give up her life for you to stop living yours."

Fuck, Peter really knew exactly what to say. You, however, were at a loss for words. He said all of the things that you'd needed to hear for so long, so perfectly, and it rocked you to your core. How did he know just what you needed to hear? The answer was simple--because he knew you, and he knew how you were feeling. He knew, because he had lived it.

Changing the subject, you asked, "So, what do we do now?"

You didn't have to explain for him to understand, and he swallowed thickly, "Do you... will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yeah. That might be worth it."

He scoffed, "Might be? Forget it, I don't want you to be my--"

"I want to be your girlfriend, Pete!" you cut him off, laughing loudly. "I really, really want to." So, maybe you lied when you said that Peter made things complicated. In fact, Peter made things incredibly easy--and that made it worth it.

SERIES TAGLIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton @zendayasfwb @sweet-symphony @cherthegoddess @justsomebodyweird

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slowly-writing · 3 years

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Part of The Family: Civil War

Avengers x Kid!Reader

Part 1

Word Count: 5.2k

Requested by me: ...okay but hear me out. Part of the family, during Civil War.

A/N: This is pretty angst, but I promise there’s a happy ending. I hope you all enjoy this, I loved diving back into this universe for a bit! I tried to stay as neutral as possible, but you can probably tell who’s side I was on.

The mission in Logos was not one you wish to remember. It reminds you of the conversation you had with your mom after she got back from Sokovia. Missions like this one are the exact reason she doesn't want you in the field. The fact that you all made it out alive and relatively uninjured is practically a miracle. Sure you’ve got a few broken ribs and your mom for sure has a concussion she keeps denying, but you all walked away. You just want to relax, heal, and forget the whole thing happened.

The news, however, has other ideas. Every channel is playing the explosion on repeat. What is probably the worst moment of your life being played again and again for the world to see. The worst part is the blatant attack they’re throwing towards Wanda. The girl saved your life and the lives of countless others in that crowd. There were casualties and it was tragic, but the things they’re saying are absurd. You’re enhanced too, but you weren’t the one who wasn’t strong enough, so now she’s the monster.

You haven’t seen MJ since you got back, the swarm of paparazzi and news vans outside the tower is far too thick for either of you to break through, but you know she agrees with you, and something tells you you’re going to need that support pretty soon.

“People died and that’s on me,” you hear your father’s voice as you walk up to Wanda’s room.

“That’s on both of us,” she retorts and they both look down solemnly, feeling guilty.

“That’s on hydra. If you don’t want to put the blame where it really belongs, which as I said is on them, then fine. It’s on all of us. We’re a team. This isn’t on just any one of us, we were all there. We all could’ve done something different today and the outcome doesn’t fall on any single person, just like it wouldn’t have if we had done well,” you say firmly as you sit beside your dad on Wanda’s bed.

“This job...we try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes that doesn’t mean everybody. But if we can’t find a way to live with it then next time, maybe nobody gets saved,” your dad says and you nod in agreement. It’s the hardest part, the people you don’t save, but you have to focus on the good parts. If you don’t, the bad will eat you up until there’s no more good at all.

A knock on the door startles all three of you out of your thoughts. You glance up to see Clint standing in the doorway. The look on his face practically screams trouble, and you almost don’t want to know what he’s going to say. “Tony’s back,” he finally says, “and he brought a guest.”

“We know who it is?”

“The secretary of state,” he says stiffly before walking out.

“This…” you look between the two, “can’t be good.”

xxxxx

You glance around the table, your whole family glaring at the accords. At Ross. At each other. You can see the lines being drawn around you and it makes you want to run and hide like the scared kid you feel like at the moment.

Then the bickering starts. Calculations are being run, and people are making arguments. Your dad and Tony being the loudest among the group.

“We may not be perfect but the safest hands are still our own,” your dad argues and Tony’s disagreement is clear.

“If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s the fact and it won’t be pretty,” he says and Wanda tenses.

“You’re saying they’ll come for me,” her voice is barely above a whisper and you speak up for the first time.

“They’ll come for both of us. You’re not the only one with powers that scare them and I don’t know about you but I don’t fancy being locked in a cell until I’m deemed useful,” you grit out and your mom is the next to speak up, but to your surprise it’s not to agree with you.

“Maybe Tony’s right,” she says and all the heads in the room snap towards her. All confused, and none more than you. “If we have one hand on the wheel we can still steer. If we take it off-”

“Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam asks and she sighs.

“I’m just-I’m reading the terrain. We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win back their trust.”

“I’m sorry did I just mishear you or did you agree with me?” Tony teases and you glare at him.

“Oh I wanna take it back now,” she looks like she’s in pain, and you know the feeling.

“No no you can’t retract it,” as Tony proclaims his victory your dad is the first to leave the room and the team slowly scatters. You stay firmly planted in your seat, your eyes locked on the floor as the words they said sink in. Mainly those of your parents, and they make you sick. Not because of your own view, but of the fact that’s becoming clear. You’re all going to have to pick a side, and they’re not going to be on the same one.

xxxxx

Everyone seemed to be jetting off to different places around the world, having meetings in secret and not telling each other the details of them. You stayed home and tried to ignore it all. You even tried to go to school one day, but the stares and whispers made it impossible to even walk in the front doors. It was like the entire student body froze at the sight of you, so you stayed in the tower with Wanda who couldn’t bring herself to step outside, and occasionally MJ, but only when she could sneak away. Her parents didn’t want her to get mixed up in your mess and you couldn’t really blame them. Peter was always at home. There was no way he could get to the tower without his identity getting revealed and you had a sinking feeling Tony was only telling him one side of the story.

Over the next few weeks things only got messier. Your dad, trying to help, has become a war criminal. Your mom is in Vienna trying to fix everyone’s mess. And with your parents gone you and Wanda are locked in the tower, told by Tony you couldn’t leave for safety reasons. You still couldn’t figure out if he was trying to protect you or protect everyone else from you.

“Mom, how is everyone?” you ask, propping the phone up so both you and Wanda could be seen on the small screen. You had just seen your dad get arrested on the news and to say you were nervous was an understatement.

“Everything’s going to be fine. Tony and your father are talking right now,” she says, walking towards the conference room, close enough for all three of you to hear their voices.

“I’d file the motion to have you, y/n, and Wanda reinstated-” Tony speaks first.

“What about y/n and Wanda?” Your dad’s voice joins in, and you realize he has no idea what’s happening with you.

“They’re fine, they’re confined to the tower. There’s worse ways to protect people,” Tony tries only to be cut off again.

“Protection? Is that how you see this? This is protection? This is internment Tony-” It’s your dad’s turn to get cut off

“She’s not a US citizen and y/n doesn’t even have a birth certificate. They don’t grant visas to weapons of mass destruction!” Tony screams.

“They’re kids! She’s my kid!” There’s a long silence where all you can hear is your heart beating in your ears. You see your mom look at you, heart break visible on her face, and you know it’s because of the tears pooling in your eyes.

“Girls,” your mom says gently, she’s walking away from the argument, but you can’t take any more.

“I’ve gotta go,” you quickly end the call, walking to the window and staring out at the city. That was the moment you lost all your trust in your family. It’s also the moment you pick a side. Sure, Tony and your dad both have valid arguments, and you haven’t quite decided who is right, but you refuse to fight for someone who just called you and your best friend ‘weapons of mass destruction’. Sure MJ once said it as a joke, but that was different. She never meant it. After all these years, you can’t believe that Tony does. You can’t believe that's what he thinks of you. After the way he’s been there for you and helped raise you, he still thinks of you as a weapon waiting to fall into the wrong hands, and you refuse to side with someone who thinks so little of you.

“We need to go,” you say suddenly.

“And where would you suggest we go?” Wanda asks as you tighten your hands into fists, trying to control the anger you feel bubbling up.

“Anywhere but here! You said it yourself. They’re going to come for us, and I don’t see anyone here trying to help. Staying here and doing nothing we’re sitting ducks. We both know this is gonna come to a fight. So we might as well make our way to them,” you tell here and there’s a long silence until you hear Clint's voice behind you.

“I think I can help with that.”

xxxxx

You watch everyone else pile out of the van and greet your dad, Sam, and who you assume to be Bucky. You take a deep breath before following, standing a bit behind Wanda as Clint talks to the group. Your dad’s eyes meeting yours as he steps away from Clint to meet you.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” he says and you smile weakly.

“None of us did, and yet here we are. Mom’s not with us on this, is she?” He looks to the floor and you don’t need an answer, the sadness in his eyes is enough.

“We're outside the law on this one, if you do this, you’re a wanted woman,” he says and you nod.

“Ever since I found out about the serum, I promised to do what’s right. I’m not gonna let a little thing like the law stop me now,” he chuckles at your words until an alarm starts going off.

“Suit up,” he calls to the group and with that you all get ready, your dad being the first on the tarmac. You stay back in the shadows to listen while your dad and Tony go back and forth for a while, but your breath catches as your mom steps into the group.

“Steve, you know what’s about to happen. Do you really want to punch your way out of this one?” Before he can answer Tony’s yelling and all the sudden Peter is behind Tony with your dad’s shield in his hand. Tony starts yelling at Steve to give up and for a second you think he’s going to, until you hear Sam’s voice saying they found the quinjet. Then Clint shoots his hands free and you step forward.

“Dad!” you yell, and when he glances back you toss your shield to him. Your mom’s eyes widen as she realises you’re here, and you’re starting to realise how little either of your parents have paid attention to your whereabouts throughout this whole thing. Sure, you’re 17, but you’d think they’d pay a little attention to your wellbeing. But you shake it off. Now isn’t the time to mope, you’re gonna need all your energy to do what you have to do.

The fighting starts and you freeze, realizing how not ready you are for this, you see your mom take out Scott as Rhodey goes for your dad. You get your dad’s shield from where Scott dropped it and watch in horror as your dad throws a truck at your mom, literally. And then, as much as you don’t want to, you follow him towards the quinjet. You’ve made your decision and there’s no going back now.

Tony’s team cuts you off and the two sides line up. It’s all very dramatic and you lock your jaw, trying to stay calm.

“What do we do, dad?” you ask.

“We fight,” he says firmly.

“Well, this is gonna end well,” you hear your mom say from the other line and you silently agree.

Everyone starts running towards each other and you tighten your grip on your shield. You find yourself dodging the cars Wanda throws as you punch a literal king in the face. He comes back strong, the claws of his suit tearing into your arm. You use your shield to knock him back into Clint’s range, and he takes over. You spin around to see who’s alone and see your mother with her gaze locked on you. She runs towards you and you use her momentum against her. You flip her over your shoulder but she quickly recovers kicking the shield from your hands and landing a solid punch to your side.

“I don’t want to do this y/n,” she says and you catch her fist, once again flipping her but this time she lands on her feet.

“And you think I do?” you yell over the chaos and suddenly a red mist encases the foot that was aimed at your chest. Your head snaps to Wanda as she sends your mom flying into a nearby vehicle.

“You were pulling your punches,” she says before running off and you glare after her before turning to Peter and slicing his web with your shield.

“Peter, go home. You don’t understand what’s happening here,” you plead.

“Mr. Stark said you’d say that.” he says before sending more webs flying at you. He grabs you by the ankle, sending you into a luggage cart before chuckling, “he also said to go for your legs.”

He shoots your hands and you use the webs to send him against the same luggage cart. He crumples to the ground and you hesitate for a moment before running the other way.

“We gotta go now,” your dad says and you sigh.

“No, you gotta go. If we’re gonna win this, some of us aren’t getting out of here,” you say, running towards the fight in the middle of the tarmac.

“I’m not leaving here without you. Your my family,” his words break your heart, and you know to get him to leave you’ll have to break his.

“No I’m not. I’m just some kid you felt obligated to help. Hydra screwed with me, it’s not your job to clean it up. Bucky’s always been family. Get him out of here. Who knows, maybe they’ll go easy on me. I am a kid after all.”

“Y/n-” you cut your dad off.

“Steve, go. Bucky you and him need to get to the jet. Scott, you remember that thing you were telling me about on the plane ride here?” you ask and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head, “do that. And try not to split yourself in half. On his signal, everybody move.”

Scott soon grows to a ridiculous height and then all hell really breaks loose. Your only goal is making sure they get to the jet, and trying not to think about what’ll happen to you when they do.

After a bit more fighting you see the jet take off and the dust finally starts to settle. You glance around attempting to see who you can help, but instead you see police all with their eyes set on you and Wanda. You take a step back, trying to find somewhere to run, only to realize you’re surrounded. Slowly putting your hands in the air you kneel down, it’s easy to see you’ve lost and you don’t fight it as the shackles lock around your wrists. They’re hightech, clearly meant to withstand any enhanced ability and you see the same kind being put on Wanda. You glance over to your mom standing across the tarmac, you expect her to yell, tell them to let you go, at least have the decency to look upset. But she just watches as you’re shoved into the back of an armored van.

xxxxx

You look around the cell you’ve found yourself in. Your left wrist is shackled to the wall, apparently they don’t deem the two inch thick bulletproof cell wall enough to keep you restrained. After hours off pulling at the chains, your wrist becoming bloody and raw, you’ve given up on trying to get out of them. You’re still better off than Wanda, who is sitting across from you with a shock collar and a straight jacket. If you didn’t want to kill the people who put you here before, that image was enough to make the impulse arise.

You’re arranged in a circle, able to see the people around you, you may not have known all of them for long, but you know none of them deserve this. After the way you’ve been treated you’re starting to think nobody deserves this, you wouldn’t wish this on the worst Hydra had to offer. As you look at the faces around you, you can’t help but think of their families, how much Clint’s kids must miss him. How Scott’s daughter feels losing her father for a second time. It makes you wonder if your mom has even batted an eye. She sure didn’t seem to care that they carted you away in the first place. You start to wonder if she ever even cared at all, or if it was all some elaborate cover, maybe something set up by Fury to make you willing to work for them. They treated you like family to your face, but conspired against you behind closed doors. You’re reanalyzing every interaction you can remember when the door to the cell block opens.

Tony walks in in a sling and Clint starts clapping “the futurist gentlemen! The futurist is here! He sees all. He knows what’s best for you. Whether you like it or not.”

“Give me a break Barton. I had no idea they’d put you here,” he snaps back and you stand, walking towards the glass only to get yanked back by the chain around your wrist pulling against the wall.

“Well, you knew they’d put us somewhere, Tony,” you grit out. For a second his eyes soften before he’s speaking again.

“Yeah but not some supermax floating ocean pokey. This place is for maniacs this is a place for…” he trails off but Clint finishes for him.

“Criminals? Criminals Tony. Think that’s the word you’re looking for, right? That didn’t used to mean me. Or Sam, or Wanda. Or y/n, the girl YOU helped raise!” Clint yells before his voice drops low again, “but here we are.”

“Because you broke the law,” Tony says. As if that’s all this means. As if it’s all that simple. “I didn’t make you.”

“You better watch your back with this guy!” Clint says, slamming his fist into the cell wall as Tony starts walking around the circle, “there’s a chance he’s gonna break it.”

Tony walks, looking at all of you as if you’re animals in a zoo. He bickers with Scott and then Sam before stopping in front of you. You lock your jaw, ignoring the tears gathering in both of your eyes. “What do you need? Did they feed you yet?”

“Oh so now you’re the good cop? The caring uncle?” you snap, shaking the chain on your wrist, “does it look like we’re getting five star treatment here?”

“I just need to know where Steve went,” he says calmly, and you’ve never wanted to punch somebody more.

“You better go get a bad cop then. Cause I’m not giving up my father.”

“You see that? I just knocked the A out of their AV, we have about 30 seconds before they realize it’s not their equipment,” he says, messing with his watch. “Clearly I made a mistake, y/n. I was wrong.”

“Well that’s a first,” you quip.

“Cap is definitely off the reservation but he’s about to need all the help he can get.”

“Then get me out of here so I can help him,” you grit out, but he shakes his head.

“Y/n, you’ve known me for years. You know who I am,” he tries to argue.

“No I don’t. The Tony I knew never would’ve let them lock us up like this,” you say with a glare.

“I’m trying to help,” He says calmly and you contemplate your options for a minute. You clearly can’t help from in here, and Tony’s telling the truth, right? He has to be, he wouldn’t betray you again. Would he?

“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise he won’t end up in here.”

“I promise,” he says, and you take his word.

xxxxx

“Hey Clint,” you call softly, leaning back against the freezing wall of your cell. You ignore the way you’re shaking, and the way your lips feel cold, undoubtedly starting to turn blue. There may be a bed in here, but they made sure the chain would keep you away from it, not that you’d sleep anyway. You don’t trust them enough to let your guard down like that.

“Yeah, kid?” his voice is just as soft, and he sounds as exhausted as you feel.

“Do you think we’re ever getting out of here?” you hear the sharp intake of breath and everyone in the room is looking at you. Before he can answer the doors open once again. You look down, not ready for whatever is walking though, only to see two familiar sets of shoes stop in front of your cell. You stand quickly, trying to make your way to them but the jerking of the chains snap you back into reality as you stumble back towards the wall. You watch as your parents eyes move to the shackle on your red wrist, dried blood covering your forearm from where you tried to pull out of it.

“Get her out of there,” your dad says, his jaw clenched and Ross steps forward, begrudgingly putting a code into the keypad on the wall. Suddenly everyone’s cell doors slide open, a few guards move to take Wanda’s collar and straight jacket off while one unlocks the shackle on your wrist. As soon it’s off your mom steps forward, presumably to hug you but you flinch away, back slamming against the wall.

“Y/n, it’s okay,” she says, raising her hands slowly as if you’re an animal she doesn’t want to startle.

“Okay?” You snap, “what part of this is okay? The part where we were fighting each other in an airport 36 hours ago? Or the last 24 that I’ve spent in this cell? The chains around my wrist? The collar on Wanda’s neck? Maybe the fact that I haven’t been given food since before Germany. Or the fact that I’m sure I would have passed out from exhaustion by now if I weren’t so scared of what happened if I fell asleep. The part where they tried to torture me for your location? Have you ever been waterboarded before? Because I have, and let me tell you, it’s not fun,” you ask your dad before turning to your mom. “Maybe the part where I had to watch my family fall apart in front of my eyes, or the part where you watched them arrest me and did nothing,” angry tears are welling in your eye for what seems like the hundredth time in the last few days. “None of this is okay.”

There’s a silence in the room as everyone takes in what you’ve said. Your parents are looking around, waiting for someone to disagree with you, tell them you’re exaggerating what’s happened to you, but nobody does.

“You’re right. None of this is okay. What happened is not okay, but we’re leaving now. We’re going to get you all out of here, and we’re going to start making it better,” your mom says gently, her voice cracking. You let her take your hand now, wincing as her fingers brush against your wrist, “we’re going to make this okay.”

xxxxx

Apparently “getting out of here” did not mean going home. It meant cleaning up in the bathroom on the jet and going straight to capitol hill for a special hearing congress was holding to decide whether or not you should be pardoned. You were sitting outside with Wanda because apparently you were allowed to be held captive and tortured for war crimes, but you weren’t allowed to listen in on a congressional hearing until you were eighteen.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask her, trying to break the silence. You almost regret asking as she starts to shake a bit.

“I will be,” is all she says, silently taking your hand and leaning into your side. You understand the feeling, and the need for comfort. So you sit silently, gripping her hand tightly as you try to relax. The two of you sit for a while longer until you see your parents exiting the meeting room, eyes set on you.

“They want to hear from you.”

“What?” your jaw drops at your mom’s words.

“They want the perspective of someone who knows the team, someone who can understand why we did what we did. They decided that was you,” your dad says and you nod, standing on shaky legs and walking into the courtroom. There’s cameras flashing everywhere and reporters yelling questions. You set your eyes to the front, your mom’s hand on your back pushing you forward until you reach the microphone. You carefully sit in front of it, crossing your hands on the desk to hide how hard they are shaking.

“Please state your name for the record,” the congressman says as the room quiets down.

“Y/n Romanoff-Rogers,” you say into the microphone, wincing at the feedback as you get too close.

“You are here today to speak on why you believe the actions taken after the Sokovia Accords were signed were rational, and why your team should be released from federal custody, free of any and all charges. You may proceed,” he says and you take a deep breath, trying not to think about how badly this could end for you if this goes south.

“I’ve seen the Avengers in a light that no one else truly has. You all get to see the badass superheroes-am I allowed to say badass in court?” you glance at your parents, your mom stifling a laugh as your dad rolls his eyes. “Anyway, you see them save lives. I get more than that. I got to see the side that took in a 12 year old girl, because she had nowhere else to go. They could’ve turned me away, sent me packing. Plenty of other foster homes did, six to be exact. But they took a chance on me and I got to see them as a family. My mom, who sat by my bed all night for the first few weeks that I lived with them, because I had nightmares when I was alone. Who tried as hard as she possibly could to keep me out of the field, even though I could pick up my motorcycle with one hand, because all she wanted was for me to be safe. My dad, who told awful jokes and teased me about the crushes I had. Who was gentle and kind despite being twice my size.

“I got to see the side of Wanda who was a scared teenager, just wanting to fit in like everyone else. Who wanted nothing more than to do right by her family and the people she loved. I got to see them all as people, not heroes. Everyone in that tower just wants to do what’s right and what’s best for everyone, and this time we couldn’t agree. A lot was on the line. Not just a failed mission, or a few injuries to deal with. It was the destruction of everything we’d all worked so hard for. It was jail time in a place I know I’ll be having nightmares about for years to come. The people we were dealing with had no problem sending people to a military black site. Had no problem sending two teenagers there, and torturing them to get what they wanted. And that scared us all, to the point where we were willing to lose everything we had to do what we believed was right. Maybe we were wrong, maybe we weren’t, but there’s no saying the people put in charge would have always been right either.

“Too many of the people on my team know what it’s like to have no say. To be used as a weapon in someone else’s agenda. There was no way any of us could let that happen again, even if it meant losing everything. We broke the law, yes, but historically laws haven't always been right. Mankind has done awful things that were perfectly fine in the eyes of the law. Locking my family away was legal. It doesn’t make any of it right.”

“Thank you, Miss Romanoff-Rogers,” the congressman says before the room is emptied for the voting, and you’re sent home to wait. It all seems very anticlimactic, but if you’re going back to prison, you’re not going to say no to one more night in your own bed first. The ride back to the tower is silent, everyone’s nerves are palpable but nobody is ready to talk about it. You step out of the van to a sea of photographers and people yelling your name, but one shout in particular stands out. You see MJ weaving her way through the crowd and grin as she slams into your arms. You hold her tight for a few moments, before pulling her away and ushering her inside.

“How are you?” she asks once you’re in the elevator, not caring that your family is listening in. You shake your head, letting out a long breath before answering.

“Tired. Stressed. Scared. Exhausted. Glad that you’re here,” you list off and she smiles.

“Considering you said two different versions of being tired, it sounds like the first thing on the agenda is a nap,” she says and you chuckle a bit, the rest of your family nodding in agreement.

“I’d say so. We’ve been awake for, what...two days?”

“Three,” Wanda corrects as you all step out into the common room.

“Yeah, a nap is definitely the move right now,” you grab MJ’s hand leading her towards your room.

“Leave the door open!” your dad calls after you as you flop onto the bed. You roll your eyes, but smile nonetheless. Nothing is back to normal yet. Nothing is fixed. It’s quite the opposite actually. You have relationships to mend, trust that needs to be earned back on both sides, a lot to talk about, and a lot of trauma that needs to be worked through, but laying here with MJ in your arms and your family all back on the same side, it seems like a step in the right direction.

Tag list: @rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @prizmix-and-friends @worlds-in-words @im-salt-but-not-salty @5aftermidnight @riotmaximoff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @stop-drop-and-drumroll

Series tag list: @hannahsairwas @niquey-salvatore @ibe-anne @lostlittlenerd @youarethereasonimsmiling @ohfuckno @marvelousmendess @jelly-fishy-babie @whattheheckisevengoingon

#avengers x reader #avengers x teen!reader #marvel x readear #marvel x teen!reader #avengers imagine #marvel imagine #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #black widow x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #black widow x daughter!reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #steve rogers x daughter!reader #civil war #captain America civil war #part of the family #kid fic #potf: Civil war #potf civil war #potf

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aadi-kted · 3 years

Text

Burn🔥🔥

A/N - Hey guyss!!!! AAHHHH!! I just finished watching Hamilton and I fell in love with it!!! I loved everything about the musical and I am soo glad I got the opportunity to watch it!! I loved Phillipa Soo in it and I adored watching her sing Burn. When I heard it I just knew that I had to write a fic on it! I have never written angst before but I am vey glad with how my my story turned out. People who haven’t seen the musical or heard the song can also definitely read this!!

W/C - 1,955...Whew!! My longest fic yet!!

Warnings! ⚠️- Fluff and sooo much angst!

~~~

Memories. Those damned memories. No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t get his memories out of your mind. They were swirling in your head; you were forever being taunted by images of what had been. His hand in yours, as you both walked down the Rockaway beach, smiles on your faces as you talked about nothing and everything. You could still remember the way his curls bounced with the breeze, the auburn streaks highlighted by the setting sun. He had been constantly moving a pesky curl which wouldn’t stay in its place. You couldn’t help but laugh at his irritated expression and with a loving sigh, you had run your hands between strands of his hair. His eyes had lit up with joy and affection and you could feel a smile creeping on your face. Whenever you were with Peter or even thought about him, you would feel an insurmountable amount of love and happiness. But now, just his name was enough to make your blood boil. Instead of smiling every time someone mentioned him, a frown would be etched on your face. You couldn’t bear to think about him, not without wanting to cry. The time you had with Peter had been magical, but now you were left behind, broken-hearted and miserable. You had first started dating in sophomore year of high school. Most people say that high school relationships never last and that you guys would be over before you finished high school, but it would be well into sophomore year of college before you guys would be over.

You could still remember the early days of your relationship, the golden days. You had had partners before, but none had been like Peter. Peter was affectionate and kind and so, so sweet. Unfortunately, he used to get flustered around you and instead of being able to say things to your face, he would write you letters. He used to slip them in your locker, slide them in your desk or give it to you when he would walk you back to your house. Some people might have found it weird, but you found charming. Being a romantic at heart, this was your dream come true. Even though Peter later started being more comfortable around you he still gave you letters from time to time. You cherished every single one of them and kept them safe and secured in your drawer. Every couple had something special to them, and this was your something special. He wrote you letters and you used to bake for him. Peter loved your baking. He said that your cupcakes and cakes were heavenly. In fact, he used to joke that you would just leave the ingredients out and angels would come into your kitchen and bake the sweets. Just reminiscing about those days were enough to put a smile on your face. But, now you didn’t feel like baking, you couldn’t bear to look at the letters. It hurt too much. Peter still wrote you letters, you just didn’t want to open them. You were too scared to find out what he had written, too scared to know why he had cheated on you.

Anyone who knew Peter would say that they could never even imagine Peter doing something like that. Until a month ago, you would have said the same thing. But now, here you both were. You had gone from being that couple in love to practical strangers with broken hearts. You, at least, had a broken heart. You doubted Peter even had a heart. You weren’t even sure you knew who Peter was now. He had first been your cute boyfriend, then he became your cute (secret) superhero boyfriend, he then became your amazing, valedictorian, college boyfriend and now he was this horrible person who didn’t even have the decency to break up with his girlfriend before going off to kiss other girls. This was not the guy you knew. This was not the guy you had dated. This was not the sweet guy who had written all those letters to you. When you had read those letters, you had known Peter was the one. He was yours. You thought he was yours. You should have known. When you had told MJ, your best friend, that you were dating Peter Parker, you hadn’t realized that your expression was conveying more deeply about your feelings for him to her than your words. She knew you were in trouble. She didn’t have anything against Peter, but MJ was a great judge of character and she had known Peter for a long time. She had warned you, she said it would be too much for you one day. But his sweet words had flooded your senses, whenever you were with him, you felt like you were on top of the world. But now you wished you were buried underneath it. You didn’t want to face anyone, your friends, your families and least of all, him. You were cooped up in your room, trying to forget everything. Trying to forget how happy you had been that day. How excited you were to see him again, after months of being apart in different colleges. You had loved every video call with him, but you missed his touch and were craving for it. So, you had decided to surprise him. You had the week off and instead of spending it with your family, you had gone straight to Peter. You were jittery with excitement, you had been imagining the kind of reactions he might have had, but for the life of you, you could have never imagined that you would walk into that room just to see your boyfriend, sitting half naked on his bed, with an equally naked girl on his lap, snogging the lights out of him. For a moment time stood still. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing, but the proof was right in front of you. They hadn’t noticed you yet. You couldn’t think of how to react. You were frozen. But, just like that, the spell broke, you released a gasp and the two people were startled out of their kissing. Peter’s eyes went wide as he took you in.

“Y/ N – Y/N/N!” He stammered

The reality still hadn’t set in for you. You were getting hysterical and couldn’t stop your reply, “And here I thought I was going to surprise you.”

You could see the confusion on Peter’s face. “Pl-please! Just-just let me explain!”

You cut him off before he could give any excuse. You just wanted to know one thing.

“How long?”

You could see the answer in his expression, but you were still unprepared for it when he said it out loud.

“3 months”

That was the moment when you felt your heart break. The moment where you lost control of your emotions. Tears filled your eyes, begging to be released. You couldn’t keep standing there. You turned around to escape with what little of your dignity was left. You could hear Peter calling you from behind, shouting your name, begging you to stop. But you couldn’t, you wouldn’t. There was no possible explanation he could give that would make you forgive him. You didn’t want to forgive him.

So now, here you were, pathetically hiding in your room from everyone. MJ had been calling you continuously. She was the only one you had told what happened. You couldn’t bear seeing the pity in her eyes. Or in anyone else’s eyes for that matter. The letters he had sent you over the years lay scattered about in your room. You couldn’t bear it anymore. You took the first letter he ever wrote you and read it. You read it like you were a person wandering the deserts for months and had only now come upon water. You consumed every letter he had written you. Your eyes scanning every line in ever paragraph. You tried read the lines for a sign, any sign for the boy that had been yours, from when he had been yours. The letters conveyed every one of the emotions and love he used to feel for you. Each affectionate line felt like a dagger to your heart. Every paragraph pierced your soul. You read letter after letter, and then finally you reached the ones he sent you this week, after you found out about his infidelity. With trembling hands, you forced yourself to pick them up. The swishing of the pages as you opened them felt like a daunting warning to not read them. As you read, you wished that you had heeded the warning. He had said that he was sorry. He hadn’t known what to do. He had been having a tough time, juggling college work and his duties as a superhero. He felt overwhelmed and he had needed your comfort. But you hadn’t been there. So when, another girl started flirting with him he didn’t say no to her. He didn’t know how to say no to her. God, you wished he had said no to her. He had never meant to hurt you, but he had lost all clarity and just… broke all the promises he had made to you.

You wanted to scream, to shout, anything to let the pain out. He had forgotten he was yours.

He had forgotten you were his and that you had made promises too. You would have been with him, helped him, and supported him. But he had forgotten. You were a broken mess and you were angry. Angry at the letters for reminding you of better times, angry at him for cheating on you and treating you the way he did, but most of all, you were angry at yourself. Angry for being such a mess, angry for punishing yourself by pushing away people who cared for you, and most all wasting tears on a ruined relationship. You wanted to do something. You didn’t want to sit there and waste your energy and tears. You gathered all the letters surrounding you. You collected them all in your hands and walked down the stairs with a determined stance. You could feel your dorm mates and other students staring at you, wondering what you had been up to, all these days locked in your room, but you didn’t pay attention to them. For the first time in weeks you were feeling hopeful. You made your way to the nightly bonfire the students in your college created. You noticed MJ standing there talking with your friends. You could see that she was surprised to see you, but you just smiled at her and made your way to the front of the bonfire. You looked at the letters and brushed your hands against your name which had been inscribed in Peter’s messy handwriting on the top corner. You then stared into the fire, trying to calm yourself. You didn’t want to look back at the letters again, so you just flung them into the fire. You watched as the fire engulfed the letters. You felt relieved as you let out a breath and felt as though you were breathing for the first time in a long time. What happened with Peter was in the past. And while it still hurt, you knew that your heart would heal over time and that you would find people who deserve your love and friendship. The flames from the fire were dancing as if they knew what had happened and were rejoicing with you. You felt a smile take over your face, brilliant and radiant, almost rivalling the brightness of the fire. The letters had burned, but your life would not burn with them.

~~~~

So..this was it folks!!! Plsss tell me how u liked it and feel free to send me asks!!!

#tom holland #break up #angst #fluffy #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #breaking up with peter parker #hamilton #burn #musical #phillipa soo #just imagine #i love this #eliza hamilton #eliza schylur #schylur sisters

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pemfrost · 3 years

Note

Can u do a spideyfist one where Peter and Danny were boyfriends before there powers and when Danny left to Kun Lun he didn’t tell anyone including Peter and all he left him was his ring that he wore all the time Peter was heartbroken for the longest time and when Peter goes to shield to meet his new teammates and when iron fist reveals his identity peter gets emotional Sorry this is really random but I think u can do the story justice love ur stuff thx❤️❤️

Idk when you sent this n.n I thought I turned off asks when I abandoned this blog back in like 2018 haha. I'm totally down for the angst. Thanks for sending this 💖

____________

Peter didn't want to be part of a team. Any team. He thought he made that very clear from the first moment it was brought up, yet here he was. It was a shame they worked so well together- so well that Peter had momentarily let his guard down and actually wondered if the whole idea wasn't so terrible after all.

But, any fantasy of it working came crashing down the moment Iron Fist opened his mouth.

The very second Fury ended their first team debrief, Peter rushed out of the conference room. Nova's taunting rang behind him, but Peter didn't take the bait this time.

"Hey, Spider-Man." Iron Fist's voice carried down the hallway.

The familiar lilt of the voice sent Peter into both fight and flight at the same time, resulting in him tripping over his own feet. Graceful. Peter cursed quietly and squared his shoulders.

"Good work today, we do make a good team." Iron Fist was right behind him.

With a sigh, Peter turned and offered a curt nod before continuing his ill-planned retreat.

Iron fist called after him, "At least consider joining us? There's a lot of good we could do together."

As Peter turned a corner, he heard Nova chime in. "Don't bother, he thinks he's too good for us."

Halfway home Peter found a secluded alley to change back into his street clothes. He opted to walk instead of take the bus, needing time to process the old memories flooding back to crush him from the inside out.

During his walk, he mindlessly played with the plastic ring he wore on a small chain necklace. Only his Aunt May and MJ knew where it came from- who it came from.

Danny Rand.

Childhood friend.

First crush.

First kiss.

First heartache.

The plastic decoder ring around his neck was the only tangible thing Peter had left. A silly thing, really. It was one of the few things they ever fought over, and Peter let him keep it in the end. That was, until the day it appeared in an envelope on his doorstep. After that, Peter never saw Danny again.

His Aunt told him he'd moved. But, why didn't he leave his new address? Even back then Peter thought his Aunt was hiding something from him. As he got older, wiser, Peter realized she was probably protecting him from his first 'breakup'- and that Danny was a chicken.

"You kept it."

Peter stopped mid stride, fingers still on the ring around his neck. Any doubt Peter had that Iron Fist was Danny Rand was gone: the voice was the same.

The blonde teen sitting on his front stoop smiled up at him weakly.

"Danny." Peter dropped the ring, letting fall against his chest. He was frozen, caught completely off guard. Why was Danny at his house? Now? Peter still had hours of emotional spiraling and role-playing scenarios left to sort through.

Danny stood slowly. "Remember when we got that? You saved boxtops forever. And I was a little shit, thought we should share it just because I was the one who found the contest. You were so angry you wouldn't talk to me. Until I kissed you on the cheek, and you agreed to share it and let me have it first."

Peter was helpless as Danny walked towards him as he reminisced. The years had been kind to Danny, which Peter could appreciate even without his skin tight supersuit.

"Then you left without a word," Peter finished for him.

"I'm sorry." Danny reached for his hand and Peter pulled it away.

Peter narrowed his eyes. "Why now?"

"I- I'm back now. I moved back to the city." Danny shifted nervously.

Peter knew enough about Iron Fist so far to piece a bit together. Danny left to train. Probably hadn't anticipated ever returning. "You left without a word, a note. No letter all of these years? Or a call? Or a visit? A postcard?!" He quickly tapped into years of unprocessed anger.

"I left you the ring." Danny looked lost, clearly he didn't expect this sort of reaction from Peter. "We agreed to share it, right? I didn't want to break our deal, and… I thought it would let you know I'd be back."

"A note would let me know you'd be back. Or an actual conversation." Peter reached up to hold the ring, twirling it slightly between his fingers. "I guess it's your turn, then."

Peter pulled hard on the chain, breaking it from his neck. He dropped it at Danny's feet and walked past his old friend, lightly brushing against his shoulder. "Maybe we can do this again in a few years."

Peter retreated inside his home and slammed the door behind him.

Well. That happened.

And with Fury's new team initiative, Peter knew his business with Danny wouldn't be over so easily. Did he want it to be over?

Thanks for reading! Sorry about the open ending...

#spideyfist #fic request #prompt fill #better late than never #seriously how long has this been sitting in there?#sorry again #peter parker #danny rand #ultimate spider man #pem writes

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random-fandom1 · 3 years

Text

Lights were blaring, music blasting, sweaty bodies grinding against eachother. A hand touches Peter waist, lips attach themselves to his neck. A man, his name is James? What a strange name. A hot name. A perfect name for such a hot man. Moans escape him. Lips continue to assault his neck, a hand pulls him towards the exit

"Is this okay?"

That voice. If you could fall in love with voices, Peter would be walking down the aisle.

"yes"

8 years later

“Olly James Parker! Hurry up, you don't want to be late for your aunts! You know what MJ did last time.” Peter shudders remembering about how MJ purposely put sand in his salad the last time they were late. The quick patter of soft feet can be heard from the landing upstairs and suddenly a small boy dressed in overalls appears at the top of the stairs, a mop of brown curls covering his left eye.

"Where are we going daddy? Are we going to that fancy place Auntie Shuri took us last week? I didn't like that place, the big red things had strange eyes and the plates. They were, they were too big," The boy made huge over the top circles with his arms. Peter had to agree though, the plates were bloody huge, "I like the cafe Auntie MJ takes us too. I like Kath. She's nice. The pink doughnuts are my favourite" Peter listened to his son rant on about how pink doughnuts are his favourite from Cafe Asgard for about 5 minutes before speaking up.

"There's no need to worry babe, Auntie MJ is picking the place I think. Shuri and MJ had bet on who stole more of the others clothes, turns out it was Shuri and then Shuri, being the competitive bitch she is decided to try and seduce -" Realising he was wandering off appropriate topics for a 7 year old, and that he'd slipped up twice in that story. He looks down to realise he's probably safe as the boy is still going on about how the sprinkles are the right amount of hard. "Go get your shoes on bud"

"Ok" and with that Olly ran down the hall, curls bouncing with every step.

Peter couldn't help but admire his son. About how he was an exact copy of him, from the hair to the freckles scattered across his body. Olly carried his and his dad's intelligence and needed to figure out how stuff works. He was a total clone. Well, almost. He had his eyes. Those beautiful steel blue eyes, the ones that looked at him with so much passion that night. Peter cried when Olly opened his eyes for the first time, realising that he's going to have to be reminded of the man he fell in love with, the man who left him alone and pregnant in his bed, everyday for the rest of his life. He's going to be reminded of James.

Peter is pulled out of his thoughts by a small hand tugging his jacket.

"Come on daddy, I hear a horn honking outside. I don't want Aunties MJ & Shuri to be mad at me" Olly says, looking at his father with huge eyes, genuinely scared of angering his impatient aunts. Resisting the urge to coo, He crouches down in front of his son and wraps him in a hug.

"Oh buddy, they'd never be mad at you...me though, that's a different story. So on that note, chop chop, I'm quite fond of my head" Peter stands up from his crouched position, takes Olly's hand and walks out the front door

"-and the dinosaur was big and green with spik-"

"Ok Olls, I think that's enough of that story. Why don't we head inside" Peter said, holding a tight smile on his face. He unbuckled Olly and headed inside, followed closely by MJ and Shuri. MJ instantly headed towards their usual table beside the window while Shuri made her way into the queue where she instantly started talking to a brown haired man. 'Must be a friend from work' Peter thought. He crouched down to Olly’s level, "Why don't you go get a table with Auntie MJ and Auntie Shuri and I will order the food? You want a pink doughnut and a strawberry and banana milkshake, right?" Olly nodded and ran off towards MJ.

Peter took a moment to think about how he got to this very moment, about how he ended up having Olly. He thought back to the morning after. He woke up alone. James just slept with him, got up early in the morning and left without a word. Peter had to show himself out of his house. There was no note, no contact number, no nothing. All there was was a growing fetus and Peter who couldn't get the man with steel blue eyes and godlike voice out of his head. It was clear that he wanted nothing to do with Peter so in return, Peter decided that he didn't need him. That he can raise Olly by himself without another person. It helped that he had a big family and money was never an issue, seeing as his dad owns the biggest tech company in the world and his pops is a captain in the army. Sure he thought about going back to the flat, seeing if James felt the same way about him as he did. He wondered if Bucky would raise Olly with him, if they could be a family. He's shaken from his thoughts by his phone binging in his pocket.

Pulling it out of his pocket, he sees a message from his pops.

‘hey pete, do you know how to activate that protocol you used to wake us up with? Monster ear or something? dads fell asleep in his locked lab again. thanks, have a good day petey. love you x’

Peter lets out a chuckle when he reads the message. Trust his dad to forget to unlock the lab door. He starts to make his way over to where Shuri is holding their place in the line, typing back a reply to his pops.

“-and then glenn tried to make me take out her copies, like who does she think i am - oh, Pete there you are. I thought you got lost on your way over. Here meet my boss, Bucky, he knows all about yo - get off your phone it's rude” Shuri says, getting annoyed by his ignorance.

“Yeah, yeah. My pops is asking about commands again. I swear he never stops” he says, putting his phone into his back pocket and looking at Shuri. Peter was yet to look at the man in front of him, too busy giving Shuri a death glare.

“It's a pleasure to meet you Peter, Shuris told me a lot about you. She tells me almost daily about your latest mix up, I must say you have a lot.”

Peter freezes

Time stops

It's that voice, the voice he fell in love with. That deep and gruff voice with the right amount of softness on the edges. It's like music, the voice of angels.

He slowly turns his head to look at the man in front of him, watches as his eyes widen upon getting a full view of his face, realising washing over him.

Everything around them become background noise

The only people left in the cosy cafe are them, scrap that actually, the only people in the whole world are them.

They must be zoned out for a while because suddenly Shuris snapping her fingers in between them. Peter's cheeks flush a dark scarlet and he closes his mouth which must have fallen open.

“Peter, you have no idea how much I - fuck, Ive thought about this moment for so long, and I - god, I dont know what to say” Peters eyes snap back up to meet those eyes, those pools of steel blue. They haven't left his mind for years, haunted him around any corner he tried to turn.

Thats when he realised, he was in love with him. He loved James, he hasn't seen him for years, met him once before that, but fuck, he loved him.

“I-uh - I…”

“Daddy, whos this? His eyes look like mine. Isn’t that funny?” Olly comes over and stands next to his father, looking up at, well, his other father. Bucky looks down at Olly, then back up to Peter, then back down to Olly. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, probably trying to figure out who this is, probably piecing it together slowly. Peter gulps and then looks down at Olly.

“Olly, I told you to stay with Auntie MJ. You know what happened last ti -” Peters cut off for what feels like the 50th time today.

“How old are you kid?” His voice is shaking

“Don’t answer that”

“Whos your other daddy?”

“Don't answer that either, go back to Aun-”

“Answer me, how old are you kid?”

Olly is slightly hiding behind Shuris leg, not quite sure what to do.

“You can’t just go around asking people you've slept with and then left alone to clean up the pieces with not even a contact number or note or anything’s kids how old they are, what is wrong with you?!”

Something flashes across Buckys face, regret and hurt, but they quickly go back to rage. Steel blue eyes turning into a stormy grey, like a storm at sea.

“I can if they may be my child!”

“That doesn't make it right!”

“For god's sake, stop being so difficult-”

“I’m being difficult? Do you hear yours-”

“I do funnily enough -”

They’re interrupted by a small voice

“Im almost eight…”

Both they’re heads snap round, looking at the source of the voice. There they see Olly holding up 8 fingers. Tears well up in James’ eyes, the final piece clicking into the jigsaw

“Hes my son..” Its barely above a whisper. Peter lets out a defeated sigh

“Yeah, he's your son”

Slowly James crouches down to Olly's level. Olly looks him over, analyses him as if he's trying to figure out what's inside this man. It's scary that Bucky has the exact same look on his face. Eyebrows furrowed, steel eyes cloudy. It makes Peter's heart let out small flutters.

“Hey there kiddo, Im, well im your papa.” Olly takes a second to process what's just been said before running into his papas arms. Tears are streaming down his face. Both their faces. Scrap that, tears are running down most of the people in the cafe’s faces.

“I've always wanted a papa, daddy always used to say that you went on a mission to space and that its taking a while. But he always said you’ll be back.”

“Did he now?” Bucky looks into his eyes and all is said in that look.

He was going to do whatever it takes to be a part of this family, to be with the man he loves and their son.

And Peter wouldn't have it any other way.

“Whats a bitch papa?”

Shuri cackles, an old lady gasps and Bucky's eyes widen comically

fuck.

#peter parker #winterspider #bucky barnes #tony stark #avengers #superfamily #steve rogers #marvel #stony #cute #shuri #papa #sad #sadbeautifultragic

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cassiecasyl · 3 years

Text

to be or not to be hugged

prompts: whumpay day 2: touch starved/touch repulsed + day 11: don’t touch me/don’t leave me

tw: panic attacks, nightmares

credit for the title goes to @official-wayward-fairchild <3

read on ao3!

Peter knew something was wrong. He was reminded of it everytime someone hugged him, hell, he was reminded every night. It was in the way his mouth filled with this ashen taste that’s just a little too close to the rusty dust of Titan whenever someone hugged him. The touch infected him with dread and panic, with screams and battle sounds, with memories. His spider senses yelled at him in precaution and Peter tensed everytime, even though he knew that there wasn’t anything to be scared of. He was just overreacting.

The first time it happened, he’d almost pushed May into a wall, had almost hurt her. He’d apologized profusely, his hands shaking, guilt rushing through his veins, but May had laughed it off. Yet, the worried glance she’d sent haunted him.

Worst of all were the flashes—when a simple touch brought him back to Titan, more powerful than Dr. Strange’s portals could ever be, and he’s fading into dust, again and again, and Tony looked so broken and as scared as he was (though they’d both tried and failed to hide it), and he’s begging for his life, for Mr. Stark to fix this like he always did—I don’t wanna go—while at the same time, he’s in the supposedly safe arms of a loved one. It was twisted torture in its on way, and Peter couldn’t help but be reminded of one of the stories Loki had told about the time he had been under Thanos’s regime.

They’d promised him might like he deserved, promised him everything he ever dreamed off, and then mixed it with obedience. Suspected him to pain and fire, sometimes ouf of fun—Loki said he got that—and sometimes framed as a test. His already shattered mind had been broken once more. There was a sense of belonging there, with the false love they gave him and the chaos they promised. The mind stone deconstructed and built him up again. Chaos was his element more than ever.

Maybe, he was being tested too, Peter mused. He died, after all, and now he wasn’t sure whether he still belonged into this world, with everybody finding someone new and moving on. May had Happy, Tony had Morgan and Harley, even Ned and MJ felt aeons away. No. Peter chided himself for ever taking this analogy. His misery was nowhere close to Loki’s agony.

Yet, Peter was living a paradox.

He stopped hugging. It hurt too much and had the tendency to rip him from reality, so he just stopped. There’s a few raised eyebrows and concerned looks at first, but they eventually succumbed to normalcy.

“Would you like to notify Boss or try any of the 173 tactics of falling asleep I've collected, Peter?” Friday asked for what must’ve been the upteenth time, shocking him out of his thoughts. He shook his head in a sigh.

“No, Friday. I’m fine,” he answered, lamenting his dismissive tone. She just wanted to help, there was no need to be so rude to her. “Sorry,” he mumbled. The word got half-caught up in a yawn, and he wanted to kick himself for it.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t tired. Peter knew it was late, and even his bones felt heavy with exhaustion, but he just couldn’t sleep. Not while he was at the Tower. He’d been successful in hiding his nightmares from May, but there was no way he’d be able to do so with Tony. Least of all when he had a perceptive AI on his side. Scratch that, two perceptive AIs. He’d almost forgotten about Karen, but he knew if he asked her for company, she’d eventually report him to Tony. Sleepy Spider Baby Protocol, or however it was called.

Peter sighed. He was so tired. He just wanted to feel safe.

~~~

Red sand tickled his throat, and the wind began nibbling at his feet as he stumbled forward. Soon, he’d join the sand, dust to dust, like it had happened countless times before. At this point, he was more scared than confused. He knew what would happen. He just didn’t know why.

Peter looked up, his eyes scanning the battle field for his mentor. He had to be here somewhere. He always was. In panic, he turned around, ignoring how his toes disintegrated with the movement. Had he died? It happened before. Thanos’s stab always seemed worse in his dreams. But he couldn’t even find a body on the ground. He was all alone. Did he leave him? Did the wind already take them away, leaving him to die alone? He choked on a sob.

“Peter?” A voice asked behind him, scared and tentative. Tony. The teen spun around, and more fell than ran towards him. The man was perched on the ground, holding his guts together. He was crying.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered in a plea. Tony looked up at him, but he was looking right through him, as if he was already mourning. His features aged momentarily, his hair turning grey and wrinkles closing in on pained eyes. A quiet, hopeful and sad smile adorned his face, the same one with which he sometimes watched Morgan. Peter could feel himself fading.

The boy crumbled before Tony, reaching out to him in a desperate cry for comfort. “I’m sorry,” he said, right before his vocal cords left him. At the last moment, Tony’s fingers grazed his, and in horror Peter watched as the dusting didn’t stop with him, but extended to Tony, moved up his right arm and eventually his face.

Peter lost his eyes before it was over.

He woke up with a start, eyes wide but unseeing. They were still gone, dusted, he’d be dead again, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. The air escaped him between sobs and panic. “Hey, hey, it’s alright, breathe, Peter, I’m here, it’s alright.” Suddenly, there was comfort. Peter blinked, and instead of complete darkness, shadows started to emerge.

“Tony?” he asked, hope tearing through his throat.

“I’m here, kid,” he promised. It was all the invitation Peter needed, and he shot forward, latching onto the older man. He breathed in the scent of motor oil and iron that never quite left Tony, and he was home. His heart beat faster than normal, but it beat, sometimes stumbling in a familiar way, and that was all that mattered. Tony was here. For the first time in a long while, his spider senses remained quiet. They were safe.

“Shh, it’s okay, kid,” Tony shushed him, gently rocking them as they sat on Peter’s bed. “I’m here,”—Peter tightened his grip at the words—”I’m alive, we’re both alive. We’re in your room at the Tower and it’s 4:14 am on a Saturday morning. It’s raining lightly outside, can you hear that, Pete?”

The spider stilled, focusing his senses on the weather outside. He panicked slightly as Tony’s heartbeat quietened, but his hand fisted around the hem of Tony’s shirt, and Tony’s constant assurances of it’s alright grounded him. Soon, his ears picked up the light pitter-pattern of rain. Peter nodded.

“Good!” Tony praised as if he’d just done the most amazing thing in the world. Without him noticing, his breathing had calmed. The air wasn’t evading him as it was before. Tony’s arms around him were warm and safe and Peter sighed in content. He missed this. God, how he’d missed this.

Tony’s hand found his, the one that was hanging onto the neck of his shirt, and covered it. Peter’s eyes widened as he remembered a flash from his dream. No. He couldn’t infect Tony. He couldn’t let him die, not again. Never. Peter coiled away from the touch suddenly and violently, ragged breaths returning. There was already dust in his lungs. No.

Tony followed him, but Peter fell to the ground as he hastily retreated, leaving his mentor standing there with raised hands signaling that it was alright. It wasn’t though. He’d infect him, and the dust would find him again, travel up his arm, take him away. It was in his name after all, wasn’t it? He petered out, faded gradually until there was nothing left, until his existence came to an end. He couldn’t spread that to Tony.

“Peter?” The man crouched down before him, slowly as if he was a scared animal. Peter shook his head. “What’s wrong, buddy?” he asked, hands reaching out.

“Don’t,” Peter pleaded, recoiling from his mentor’s safe hands. Oh, how he craved their warm embrace. But he couldn’t. He’d kill him. “Please don’t,” he cried, “I’ll infect you.”

“Okay,” Tony breathed, “okay. Infect me with what?”

“Dust,” Peter answered with a hiccup. At Tony’s puzzled expression, he elaborated: “I’m dust, and it’s gonna spread to you. It’s in my name.”

“Oh, kid.” Peter could practically see how a part broke away from Tony’s heart and fell down. That’s how it started, he thought, reminding himself of videos he’d seen of mountains eroding under water. “You’re not dust, not anymore,” he said, searching the room for something, “I brought you back, remember? I wouldn’t bring you back half-baked, Peter. All or nothing, that’s the deal.”

The kid nodded, still watching him with big eyes. He mustered the veins of scar tissue raking up his right cheek, and suddenly his dream made sense in a different way. Still, he wouldn’t wanna test it. He couldn’t kill Tony too. He wasn’t worth two of his father figures dying, let alone three.

Tony stood up and fear gripped Peter. He had enough of him. He’d realized the threat he was and would get himself to safety now. Only, that meant he’d leave Peter behind. “I’m not leaving, Pete,” Tony promised against his anxiety spouting lies, “I’m just getting something. See? I’m not even leaving the room.” He held up the water bottle Peter always kept on his bedside table to show him.

He came back. Peter almost wanted to smile, but his dust-infected body was way too numb to do anything but watch. “Now, could you stretch your arm out for me?” Tony asked. Peter sucked in a panicked breath. “I’m not gonna touch you, I promise.” Slowly, Peter nodded.

Cold water touched his skin as soon as he did what Tony asked of him, shocking him back into reality. “See?” the genius asked, “You’re solid. No dust here.” Peter nodded, blinking and staring at his hand, wet and still in one place. He looked up at Tony, who was smiling assuringly.

“Solid,” Peter repeated, the remains of the nightmare slowly leaving his body. “I’m solid,” he laughed.

“That’s right, Pete,” Tony praised, his hands switching towards him. He still slightly shied away from the possibility of touch though. His mentor fixed him with that concerned gaze, the one with which he could read him like no other, that implied that he was trying to figure out what bothered Peter.

“Can I hug you?” he asked. Peter shook his head. It was tempting, but he wasn’t sure whether he was ready for that yet.

“Rather not. Sorry.” Tony nodded, quickly hiding the sadness.

“That’s alright. Thank you for telling me.” He stood up, mindlessly extending his arm to help Peter up, but then taking it back with a scolding shake of his head. Peter chuckled. “Sorry, didn’t think. So, anything else you wanna do? Catch some sleep, watch a movie?”—he glanced at the time—”Oh, what about a hot chocolate? Rhodey should be up by now ‘cause he has an early meeting or something, and he makes the best hot chocolate in the Tower.”

Peter stood up with a laugh. “Hot chocolate sounds great.”

“Hot chocolate it is then,” Tony confirmed with a warm smile. “Friday, warn Rhodey if he’s awake, we’ve got a spider baby to pamper.” He left the room before Peter could object, and Peter quickly followed him.

tag list: (let me know if you wanna be added/removed!)

@starrynightdeancas @spookyscarykittycat @sherlock-who-mentalist @lost-lunar-wolf @aixabi

#irondad #hurt/comfort #hurt peter parker #tony stark #tony stark acting as peter parkers parental figure #hugs #Whumpay2021

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lexieelouuu11 · 4 years

Text

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

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

TW: Mentions of Rape

Okay so Peter Parker is *Straight*

He likes girls, really likes girls

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

And he may have had a brief crush on MJ

So Peter Parker is *Straight*

Boys are gross, and trust Peter he knows

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

He 10/10 supports anyone who comes out to him

But anytime he thinks about how boys could possibly be into him, his brain immediately goes to Skip Wescott

And how Peter was 9 when it started and that he never wants to be in a position like that again

It was horrible and scary, and Peter Parker likes women and only women, and he will never be anyone’s Skip. And he will never put himself in a position where there can be another Skip.

So Peter Parker thinks men suck.

(Obviously beside Ned and Mr Stark, they’re cool, but Peter has known Ned forever and Mr Stark is literally a super hero, and Peter only became such a huge fan of Iron Man and Tony Stark because of what happened)

His therapist tells him it was his way of coping with what happened

Then one day Happy picks Peter up at school on an non-lab day because Mr. Stark has someone that he wants Peter to meet

Peter really hopes its the Black Widow (because they’re both spider themed heroes !! how cool !!!)

Peter meets Mr Stark and this mystery person in the living room

Mr Stark introduces Peter Parker to Harley Keener

Harley Keener looks hot good, hes tall and wears a leather jacket and cowboy boots with skinny jeans. He looks so out of place, but he doesn’t look bothered by it either

Peters heart skips a beat, but Peter chalks it up to be anxiety

“Hey there Peter, I’m Harley”

Oh my god he has an accent, an actual southern accent

And doesn’t that just make Peters heart race

“Tony here tells me you’re a real Einstein” He laughed

Harley laughed. Peter is not laughing

Peter hears his blood rushing, and feels himself go cold. His spidey-sense is just going off

Peter looks to Mr Stark whose smile falters at the look of pure-fear on Peters face

Mr Stark doesn’t know. Peter never told him. Any files about what happened never include Peters name, or any family members name, so Mr Stark wouldn’t have stumbled on it, unless he went into Peter’s Therapists notes, which he hasn’t because he may be nosy but he isn’t invasive

Peter knows what this is, he knows he’s going into a panic attack. He was triggered and he needs to get out. Out out out before anything can happen

“So-sorry, I’ve gotta, I gotta go, something came up wi-with May. It was um, it was nice meeting you Harley.”

Peter left, and made it back home, though he doesn’t remember how he made it from Manhattan to Queens and into his apartment.

He’s home and it’s not the safest place, can’t go into his bedroom but it’s better than there

Tony beat him to the apartment (without Harley), already sitting with May when Peter walks in

May is quick to give Peter his favourite over-sized sweater (it makes him feel safe) sitting him down in the living room, putting a knit blanket over him, and giving a bottle of water.

“Pete, you okay kid?” Mr Stark asks

And Peter is fine, he always has been, so he nods

“Do you want to talk about why you were triggered into a panic attack” His voice is soft as he speaks to Peter, like Peter would break

May sits next to Peter, pulling him into her

“Adrian Toomes was not the first person Spider-Man sent to jail” Peter started the story like this because it was easier to tell it, his therapist may not be happy with it but she’ll be happy he’s making progress by telling some

“Spider-Man was 11 when he sent his first person to jail. It was a year long trial, one kid versus one 18 year old. He used to call Spider-Man, Einstein”

Peter seemed to be done with his explanation after this, deeming it enough information for Tony to understand what happened

It wasn’t

But May sending a text that said “Search Skip Wescott” gave Tony the opportunity to find out what happened later

(Tony is really pissed when he reads what happens, and makes sure Skip get transferred to worst prison and that he can never leave)

“Okay, Pete, I’ll talk to Harley about not calling you that. But Harley will be going to the same school as you, okay? That’s why I wanted you two to meet.”

After that first night Peter goes back to being his usual chipper self

And Harley starts at Midtown

Peter was just rounding the corner outside of the school to see Harley getting dropped off by Happy

After a moment of hesitation Peter went up to Harley and offered to help him on his first day (because Peter will not let his overwhelming fear take over and he will be friendly for the sake of Mr Stark and that is all)

Despite Peter’s uneasiness and distrust Peter and Harley get on like a house on fire

Peter started to feel really close to Harley, and Harley would often throw his arm around Peter’s shoulder and call him things like sugar, or sweet thing or darling

And Peter liked that a lot, except he didn’t because it was weird (but he really did)

And Peter would always go tomato red whenever Harley was around

Even Ned and MJ recognized the crush Peter had on Harley and vice versa

“Dude when are you going to make a move on him?”

“What the fuck, Ned? I’m straight, Harley and I are friends”

“Peter are you being serious right now? You both obviously have a crush on each other. Harley knows you like him too.”

“The fuck MJ, I expected you to be more understanding about this. We are friends. Maybe I come off as gay to you because I choose to respect people and am not the exact definition of a ‘toxic male,’ but I don’t fucking like you guy assuming that I like men. Men ain’t shit and I’m not going to find myself in another situation like I used too. I like women”

“What’s your issue Peter? You homophobic now? Didn’t peg you as that.”

“Fuck MJ, this isn’t your business. I’m an ally, people love who they love, but I don’t like men, and you need to stop pushing that on me. I have my reasons, you have yours.”

“Peter, the way you’re going off on MJ isn’t really helping your point much-”

“Would the two of you just shut up about this. I don’t like other guys. Women are it for me. I will not be stuck under another man. Fuck, I’m straight and you need to stop pushing the idea that I’m into Harley just because you want me to live out your little fantasies of what my life should be like.”

Peter didn’t talk to them the rest of the day. Not because he was angry but because he was embarrassed that he said too much

At the tower Peter and Harley were cuddled together sitting next to each other watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine and talking

Peter really loved Harley’s Blue eyes

And his accent

And his face

And Harley in general

But totally only in a friends way

They’re bros

“I want to try something real quick, you can tell me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I am”

And then Harley kisses Peter

Harley Kisses him

And Peter freaks out

Without even thinking about it, Peter pushes Harley off of him and bolts, leaving the tower without his phone, shoes or bag, Peter just leaves

Once Peter gets outside he throws up, before his anxiety takes over again and he just runs and runs and runs

Harley is left now sitting on the ground, tears in his eyes, confused and hurt about what just happened

Tony makes it to Harley in record time thanks to Friday, and without a question Harley explains what happened

“I thought he liked me too, Tony, I really did. I don’t know how I messed up this bad.”

“I’m sorry Harls, Peter has been hurt a lot and I just don’t think he was ready yet emotionally for a relationship.”

Tony knows that Peter has probably just been triggered. He’s only heard Peter talk about girls romantically, never boys, but he was sure that Peter and Harley were going to be together at some point

Once Harley finally calms down enough and goes to his room Tony calls May

“May, is Peter with you, he left all his stuff here.”

“No, I thought he was staying with you tonight. what happened?”

“Harley kissed Pete, and he freaked out and ran out without any of his stuff, I was hoping he was with you. His phone is here too.”

“I think I know where he is, College Point Park. Ben and I used to take him there after any court date.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“What about Harley?”

“He’s already asleep, I’ll meet you there.”

Tony and May get there in record time, finding Peter sitting on the rocks facing the East River.

“Peter?” May called out.

Peter turned around, his face clearly red, tears streaming down his face.

“I don’t understand” Peter finally said as May and Tony got close enough

“What don’t you understand?” Tony asked

“Harley kissed me. He kissed me. I expected to hate it. But I didn’t. I liked it when he kissed me. I should hate it though. He’s a boy. I shouldn’t have liked it.”

“Peter it’s okay if you liked Harley Kissing you, and it’s okay if you like him romantically too” May tried to comfort

“But it’s not May, because if I like Harley, and I like him kissing me then that means that I liked it when Skip kissed me. And I didn’t like anything he did to me.”

“Peter, I like when Pepper and I kiss, but that doesn’t mean that if May were to kiss me that I’d like it. Same thing goes for you kiddo.”

“I like girls though. I can’t like Harley.”

“You can like both boys and girls. You could be Bisexual or maybe not. No matter what it’s okay.” May said again.

“I need time. I can’t- I need Dr Rosenburg and I need to not be Spider-Man and I need to not see Harley or Ned or MJ. I need time.”

“Okay baby, you can have as much time as you need.”

Peter ends up taking a week off of school, with daily appointments with his therapist. He went completely ghost mode. Wasn’t active as Spider-Man, wasn’t active on social media. Didn’t read or respond to anyone’s messages. Only talking to May or Tony and only if they were at the apartment.

After his week off, Peter finally reappeared at school, still having not responded to anyone’s messages, preferring to just deal with things in person.

“Peter oh my god you’re alive we all thought you died.” Ned shouted from down the hall going to greet his friend, MJ and Harley in tow.

“I’m fine guys, I just had some stuff from the past come back up that needed to be dealt with before I did anything that would hurt other people.”

“What are you talking about Parker, you wouldn’t hurt a fly let alone anyone else.” MJ said confused

“I’ll tell you when I’m ready too but I’m not there yet. My therapist thinks I made good progress this week though.”

“Your therapist?” Ned asked.

“Uh yeah, sorry. MJ, Ned, I really messed up with how I treated you guys the other day, regarding my sexuality, turns out I may of been wrong and you guys were right, I just repressed any of those emotions due to trauma. So, I’m sorry you didn’t deserve that.”

Ned and MJ obviously forgive Peter bc duh they’re friends

“I would like to talk to Harley privately though, so you guys wouldn’t mind?”

So Peter pulls Harley to the side finally getting the chance to talk to him, and wanted to say his words before he lost his nerves.

“Peter I’m sorry-”

“I liked when you kissed me. That’s why I freaked out. I didn’t think it was possible for me to like that, or men. I’m sorry for pushing you away. I wasn’t prepared and my brain automatically went to a dark place. I like you Harley Keener, but I have problems and I want you to be aware of that before we do anything.”

“Okay.”

“If we are going to try this I need you to be aware of my limits. I have a lot of them apparently, and I’m not sure if more will come up or not, but my therapist said that I should talk to you about this stuff before we do anything. If you still like me, that is.”

“Peter Parker you are too precious, of course I still like you, I don’t plan on not liking you for a while yet.”

And then Peter smiles and he feels relieved, because getting to this point took a lot of work and now he’s here and he likes a boy who likes him back who won’t hurt him

#parkner #parley #peter parker #peterparker #harleykeener #harley keener #bi peter parker #bi peter #irondad #spiderson #insecure #skipwescott #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu

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spideyfic · 3 years

Text

As You Walk on By (Will You Call My Name?)

Peter Parker made a deal with the Devil and now he's paying his dues.

(A purely speculative fic based on the set pictures from today)

He walks down Manhattan Avenue, snowflakes settling in his hair as he alternates between checking the building numbers and the address written on the piece of paper he holds. He’s not really familiar with Brooklyn, but the Brooklyn Daily Eagle ran an article about the holiday window art in a donut shop called Peter Pan, crediting the artist as Michelle Jones, and his heart had jumped right up into his throat.

He’s wearing Ben’s old jacket with the broken zip that has to be twenty years old, the padding bunched awkwardly in the back where May had tried to save money on dry cleaning by throwing it in the washing machine, and he should be cold, but he’s flushed with nervy excitement.

He knows this probably isn’t a good idea.

But he’s doing it anyway.

It feels strange to be walking down the street as Peter Parker without anyone batting an eyelid, after six months of being public enemy number one. Spider-Man might still be wanted, but Peter Parker is just a dorky loner wanted by nobody other than his Aunt May.

He finally sees the bakery, recognizes MJ’s artwork in the windows. There’s a penguin holding a menorah, and it makes him pause for a moment, remembering the hand-drawn Chanukah card she’d given him the first holiday after the Blip, featuring very same penguin. But then he sees her through the window, placing fresh donnuts on a tray, and he’s overcome with the need to see her again. He takes five big strides and yanks the door open, practically bursting into the store.

MJ looks up as he walks in, raising an eyebrow. She’s wearing a look of disinterest and a long, white sleeved tee under a truly hideous mint green tunic with a pink collar and cuffs. “What can I do for you?”

She’s there right in front of him, alive and well, and it’s almost overwhelming. He suddenly regrets coming to find her, her lack of recognition cutting him to the core, but he’s here now, staring at her with his mouth gaping open like he’s some kind of dumbass fish, so he squints at the menu behind her. “Uh – a small Ho Ho Ho hot chocolate to go, please.”

She fills a cup with chocolate powder and milk, holding it under the steamer. “Hey, you go to Midtown, right?” she says, looking back over her shoulder. “You’re in B stream.”

That’s news to him, but he rolls with it. “Yeah. Peter. I mean, I’m Peter Parker.”

“Alliterative,” she says approvingly. “I’m Michelle.” She finishes steaming the hot chocolate and holds up a can of whipped cream. “Cream?” she asks, shaking the can when he nods and squirting a generous amount on top of the chocolate before sprinkling it with crushed peppermints. “Do you want any donuts? Maybe a bagel?” She clicks the lid down on his drink and places it on top of the display cabinet.

The hot chocolate has already blown his budget, but he looks at the five-dollar donuts anyway. A red one catches his eye, decorated with a spider web. “Hey, is that a Spider-Man donut?” he says. “Do you guys support him?”

“We’re pro-Spidey,” she confirms. “The proceeds from that donut go to the Citizens to Defend Spidey fund.”

There goes the rest of his budget. “I’ll take two – Spidey-Nuts?” He squints at the label, thinking – hoping – he’s read it wrong, but nope, Spidey-Nut is there in the neat, flowing handwriting he recognizes as MJ’s. “You remembered the hyphen,” he says weakly, trying not to die of mortification.

“The hyphen is important,” she says seriously, wrapping two donuts in waxed paper and dropping them into a bag that he crams into one of his jacket pockets. “That’s $15.” As she holds out the payment terminal for him to tap his card, he spots a necklace – the necklace – in the vee of her tunic. He has no idea why it exists in this reality, but he’s glad it does. It reassures him that the last three years of his life weren’t some kind of fever dream.

“I like your necklace,” he says, and she reflexively looks down, hooking the chain with her thumb to let the broken pendant dangle. “A black dahlia, right? Like the murder?”

She smiles then, the shy grin she’d given him on Tower bridge, six months and an unaltered reality ago. “How did you know?”

“I used to know someone was into true crime,” he says, making himself look up from her softly curving lips to meet her gaze. “How come it’s broken?”

She shrugs, tucking it back under her tunic. “I don’t actually know? I just found it on my desk. I kind of like it better broken, though. I don’t know its story, but it feels – special, somehow.”

It’s suddenly all too much and he knows he has to get out of there. “I gotta go,” he mumbles, taking his cup. “Thanks.”

MJ looks startled. “OK. Maybe I’ll see you at school?”

“Maybe.” He summons a half-hearted smile and leaves the store as quickly as he entered, the cup clutched in his hand. He drops it in the trash without even taking a sip.

He feels sick, can’t stand that MJ looked at him like he was basically a stranger. But the alternative – MJ bleeding out in his arms, her last breath used to murmur his name – is far, far worse, and he would rather have her alive and not part of his life, than dead, all her passion and intelligence and compassion snuffed out in a moment.

He rewrote reality for her.

He erased any memory anyone in the world had of Peter Parker being Spider-Man to make sure she lived.

He made a deal with the Devil to save her life, and now he was paying his dues.

***

MJ locks the door and flips over the back in five! sign before she heads out to the back of the store. She doesn’t know why, but she feels out of step, discombobulated, like something in the universe had shifted that she wasn’t quite aware of. “Hey, Ned?” she says, stepping into the prep room.

Ned looks up, his hands sunk deep into a ball of dough. “You OK?” he says, his eyebrows knit in concern. “You look weird.”

She sits on a battered stool, tucking her feet behind the bar at the base. “That quiet kid from school just came in,” she says, holding her necklace between thumb and forefinger and twisting it mindlessly back and forth. “The one who wears all the geeky science tees.”

“Peter?” Ned rubs his palms together over the sink, sloughing off little balls of dough before washing his hands thoroughly. “We used to be friends when we were kids, but then his parents died and he moved schools in second grade. I tried talking to him when he started Midtown but he’s like super shy.”

“I feel like I know him,” she says. “There was this – I don’t know, it was like a connection.” She doesn’t tell Ned that she thinks Peter is cute, or that his dark eyes and sweet smile had made her pulse quicken.

He smirks anyway; he’s not her best friend for nothing. “We should talk to him at school,” he tells her, drying his hands on a paper towel. “I saw him wearing a Star Wars shirt before Christmas break. I need someone in my life that appreciates the greatest cinematic franchise of all time.”

Ned’s her absolute favorite nerd. He’s the easiest person in the world to be friends with – he’s all sweet, open affection, the perfect counterpoint to her more closed-off nature, and his kindness is infectious. She’d usually rib him about the Star Wars comment, but she gives him a pass this time, because he’s being all earnest and shit, and making friends with Peter Parker seems somehow inevitable.

“Yeah,” she says, contemplative. “Yeah, we should do that.”

Ned gives her one of his beaming, toothy smiles and pats her shoulder. “First day back, we’ll sit with him at lunch,” he says, returning to his kneading. “He always looks like he needs a friend.”

MJ watches him work, her mind still on the boy who’d burst through the door and looked at her like he’d found a long-lost treasure.

Peter Parker was a mystery.

She wanted to solve him.

#my fic #post spider-man far from home #peter parker x michelle jones #peter x mj

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time-to-cause-chaos · 3 years

Text

catch me to infinity

5 times Wanda catches Peter, and 1 time she doesn't know if she can. (Reblogs appreciated <3) (st*rk*r shippers, pls DNI) (also this is PLATONIC, not slash so yeah, pls don’t read this as slash)

AO3 link WC: 5,738

1. Accidentally, off a couch

“Wanda” Peter says, laying across his chair, feet dangling idly in the air.

“Wandaaa”, Peter whines again. His half-finished hot cocoa sits abandoned on the coffee table while Wanda sips hers quietly.

Wanda pauses the tv, raising an eyebrow and looking over to Peter with an unimpressed look.

The guy on the screen is leaning against a wall, mouth half-open, caught in the middle of a joke.

“We’ve watched this episode like a million times. I can probably tell you every single line and scene by heart at this point.”

Wanda sighs, “Which one should we watch then?”

A quick glance at the window says they’re still stuck inside, if the storming winds and downpour mean anything. They didn’t have a problem with some light rain, in fact, if Tony and Steve hadn’t expressly told them they couldn’t go outside, they would already be soaked and muddy. The last day they’d gone outside in the cold though, the next day was full of fevers and snotty napkins so it was decided they’d actually listen this time. That rainy day had still been awesome though and there were absolutely no regrets, even when Peter was delirious and giggling everywhere in a haze.

The sitcom playing in front of them was one of Wanda’s favorites - probably why Peter had put up with watching it for the millionth time - but at this point, she was barely making it through the episode without wanting to rip her hair out.

She was bored.

Peter came around her and sat on the back of the couch, his feet planted on the cushions. Flipping through the shows was a waste, they’d also gone through nearly every episode they could and starting a new show right now sounded exhausting.

Wanda slumped and Peter got up, standing on the sofa, “There are so many things we could do, we’re in the Avengers Compound, there can’t be nothing to do.”

“We could go swimming?” Peter asks.

Wanda groans, “Then you’ll be the one explaining why we got sick again”

“Wanda, it’s indoors”

“N-o” she spells out, “No swimming”

“Well what about-”, Wanda doesn’t figure out what Peter was going to say because his balancing act comes toppling down, maybe balancing on his heels and pacing on the headrest of the couch hadn’t been one of his best ideas.

Peter yelps and his arms come over his head as he crashes to the floor.

...Except the crash never comes.

Instead when Peter opens his eyes, his nose is one inch from touching the floorboards and his limbs are covered in bright red ripples of light.

“Whoa”, he breathes, uncurling himself and spreading his arms out, as if he was floating.

Wanda scoffs and with a flick of her fingers, let’s go of her hold on the mist and helps him close the gap between himself and the floor, dropping him harmlessly on the floor.

He picks himself up and looks at her, mouth agape, “Wands, you have powers!” he shouts in glee.

She rolls her eyes and snorts, “Really, Peter? That is news to me.”

“No, no I mean imagine all the fun things we could do with this”, Peter’s hands flail wildly to emphasize his point, “we could prank the others, for one”

She smirks up at him, “That’s actually not a bad idea”

“When have I ever had a bad idea”

Wanda’s eyebrows pinch together in exasperation, “The swimming idea?”

“Okay, fine moment of weakness but anyways,” he grins, “We need supplies, I’m going to get supplies”

He snaps his fingers and is out the door before he can hear Wanda yell, “If Tony grounds you, it’s not my fault!”

2. Mysteriously, for the suspense and drama

Peter laughed into the comms as he kicked one of the bad guys down, “Was that a dad joke, Mr.Stark?”

“It was a pun, there’s a difference Spidey” Tony grunts, blasting up into the air and firing another guy down a stairwell.

Clint pops on the comm link, crackling into their ears, “I’m pretty sure that was a dad joke Tony”

Peter shoots a web onto the ceiling and swings around, webbing up the last few people in the room, “Mr.Stark, just make sure to give us a warning before you go full dad-mode and start playing golf and bringing us our lunches”

“I actually think I did bring your lunch to your school that one time”, Peter doesn’t have to see Mr.Stark’s face to know he’s smirking.

“Nope, nuh-uh, no I definitely don’t remember that”

“Oh yes you do,” Tony laughs, “Your face was red the entire time”

Peter grimaces,”No idea what you’re talking about”. Oh he definitely did, it had been embarrassing, god and Ned’s jaw was practically on the floor while MJ watched unimpressed as the entire class’s eyes bulged.

“I think I saw some dudes slip up to the roof, I’m going to go grab them” Peter says, changing the subject and looking for Tony for confirmation.

“Go ahead, Underoos. I’ll be right behind, just going to make sure law enforcement have a hold of these guys, first.”

Peter nods and slips out of the room, already running up the fire escape.

He bursts out onto the roof and immediately has a gun trained on him.

“Make one move, Spiderman, I dare you”

“Well, I do love a good dare”

Peter ducks behind a potted plant just as the guy fires a bullet. Spinning out from his hiding place he yells, “I’m going to call you Boots!”

The man was wearing heavy black combat boots with large wedges, a short person’s true love, Peter thinks.

He had thick wedges too on most of his sneakers, but he assured himself Tony he only wore them because they were fun to wear.

Speaking of, he was pretty sure Mr.Stark made his shoes with wedges in them too-

Peter yelps and ducks as the gun fires again, missing him by a foot this time.

Anyways, he was average height, thank you very much. Anyone who said otherwise could eat his webs and dirt.

Peter notices a slight hesitation in his opponent’s movement and immediately shoots a web out, yanking his gun arm down.

He flips behind him and punches him down right before the man flips back up, nailing Peter on his nose and forcing him back.

Peter yelps and realizes their fight is nearing the edge of the roof, which had a good 8-story drop behind it.

He tries to push his punches in another direction, trying to redirect them both before one of them goes over but the man stays strong pushing them closer and closer to the edge.

Wanda’s voice comes in through the comms, “Peter, where are you?”

“Roof” Peter barely gets out through his grunts.

“I’m under you” she says.

Ironman comes out through the roof access door and watches as Peter stumbles, barely inches from tipping over the side.

He raises a metal hand, ready to shoot but Peter stops him, “Just trust me”

He would’ve let Tony handle it, but the blast could knock him off too, not just the other guy, and if he was going to plummet off a building today, he wanted to do it on his own terms.

Balancing on the small wall, the only thing keeping him from falling off, Peter jumps sideways just as the man raises a leg to kick him down.

Peter smirks, using two fingers to salute, “Sayonara, sucker” he laughs as he pushes off and starts free-falling backwards, wind and gravity pushing on him.

That was so cool, he thinks. It was a perfect reenactment of those scenes in movies where a character will dramatically fall off a roof narrowly escaping their nemesis and then gets caught by like, a dragon or a flying pirate ship.

It’s called a fashionable exit, to all the uncultured misfortunes who think it’s stupid.

Mr.Stark was probably pretty confused about what just happened though.

He plunges through the air for a full three seconds before he’s caught by Wanda’s magic, floating mid-air.

He catches a glimpse of her pursed lips and smiles, “You’re so dramatic” she tells him, concealing her amused eyes.

Wanda takes them both up to the roof where Mr.Stark already has the man Peter was fighting, tied down.

Tony groans in exasperation when he sees them both, already having figured out their little magic act.

They just laugh.

3. To annoy, off the counter

It’s a Friday and the essay sitting on the table next to Wanda has already been long abandoned. He was not going to waste another minute trying to figure out what personal connection he could make the short story they’d been assigned to read during class.

He related to it because he’d been in a similar situation maybe?

But anyways, he wasn’t going to waste time trying to find a way to spread that over 8 detailed sentences and supporting textual evidence.

He’s sitting on the counter and watching Wanda and Vision read books next to each other on the chairs. Wanda’s legs are resting on Vision’s lap and as fun as it was watching them both, he was still exhausted and not in the mood to face the dangers of his other homework for tonight.

Didn’t Mr.Stark say not to risk his life unnecessarily? This should definitely count because just looking as the textbook took away two hours of his energy, at this rate he’d be on his death-bed by nightfall.

Munching on a protein bar, he looks up at the ceiling.

The only one in the building right now, besides Vision and Wanda, was Steve - well technically Mr.Stark too, but he was in a board meeting that Pepper begged him not to bail on so he was off-limits.

He glares at Wanda, trying to get her to notice him bored out of his mind, but she stubbornly stays focused on the page.

She’s actually reading Harry Potter, the result of Peter’s pestering, and she loved it. The plan to get Wanda to do something with him was interfering with the joy he would usually feel though.

Like yay, my pseudo big sister is finally catching up on all the books and movies she’s missed while working with evil people but also please please please notice me before i throw my stupid homework into the sink disposal-

His alarming train of thought still didn’t catch her attention so he slumps before getting up and deciding to walk all over the counters and ceiling. You know if that mark on the wall from when someone - ahem Clint ahem - had thrown a pen on the ceiling, acted like a mark he could pretend he was doing an obstacle course.

Yes, he could see it now, he’d do a cartwheel over the pen mark on the ceiling, then run on the wall, then he’d jump over the couch, and jump back onto the counter, the living room was plenty big enough.

Wow, this is a sorry excuse for fun.

He did the course three times and was skittering across the ceiling when Steve walked in and immediately shook his head at him.

Peter freezes in surprise and looks guiltily at Steve.

“I’m guessing the homework didn’t get done”, Steve says.

Peter sits criss-cross on the ceiling, if he gets down, he’s probably going to be guilt-tripped into doing his homework and no thank you.

Steve sighs and looks at him, “At least get down, you’re going to fall and get hurt.”

“No I won’t. I’m part-spider, this is like my natural territory”, Peter says.

“You have the traits of a spider”

Why did he always have to pull out the school detention PSA voice?

“But look! I can do a cartwheel on here, I’ve been doing them and I’m fine”

He’ll get down, as soon as he does just one, little cartwheel to annoy Steve.

Of course, that’s when his body decides to betray him and he slips, losing his grip on the ceiling.

He wasn’t worried about falling and smashing his nose at all, he knew Wanda would catch him every single time, in fact he’s already crossing his arms over his chest and scowling as he hovers on his back 3 feet above the ground.

Steve walks by him, still suspended in the air, and ruffles his hair, “Homework now”, then probably feeling bad for Peter, he adds, “Tony said you can use the lab later if you finish early”

Peter groans, “Fine”

Wanda puts him on the couch and he walks over to her and drops in the chair next to her on the table. She hasn’t looked up once this entire time, not even when she’d caught him in the air, only unlatching her fingers from Vision’s and stopping his fall with her powers.

Now she looks up and smiles at him, poking his forehead and pushing his computer towards him.

He groans again.

4. To spite and win, off the balcony

Peter licks his lips, running through the plan again.

There’s someone coming down this hall, he can hear their soft footsteps padding on the floor. Peter’s going to jump out and get the offending person out of the game, it’ll be easy as long as he times it right.

He jumps out from where he’s hiding behind the door frame and pulls up the gun aiming it at the unsuspecting form.

His paintball gun chooses right then to stall and dang it, that means that he has no defense or attack.

He looks up to find Clint grinning at him coyly, gun already trained on him and finger poised on the trigger.

He yelps and jumps out of the way just in time, the purple paintball splattering against the counter.

Peter runs back through the hallway, getting away from Clint and his treacherous smile (it was the smile of a deranged man who would do anything it takes to win paintball) and finds a cleaning closet to hide in while he fixes his gun.

Did the plastic pieces just have to jam right then? Talk about shitty luck.

He picks at the inside of the barrel with a toothpick and grins as a faint click ensures that the machine is functioning again. The paintball that had gotten stuck shoots out and Peter ducks out of the way as pink splatters against the dark wall.

He knows Clint’s prowling the halls for him right now and he prays the man didn’t just hear the shotgun go off.

Slowly creaking the door open and making sure there’s no one there, he tip-toes out and runs to the balcony, it’s the perfect place to hide out and wait for his next victim. The second anyone enters the living room, he has the perfect view on them and nobody looks at the balcony until it’s too late, which means more wins for him.

He underestimated Clint though.

The older man jumps out (umm where did he come from??) and kicks Peter’s gun away from him with a triumphant laugh. Peter backs up against the cool metal railing and looks at him imploringly, “Can we talk this out?” he offers weakly.

He really regretted voting for the no superpowers rule now.

“Any last words, Parker”

Peter turns his head around, looking for a way out. It was too high to jump from without his webs and it won’t be possible to run around Clint without getting hit by a paintball.

Right before he decides to accept his inevitable defeat he sees a flash of bright red hair hiding in the branches of one of the thick, green trees below them.

“You know what, you got me Clint” he smirks, letting Clint bask in his moment of victory for a second, “Just kidding” and he flips himself back off over the railing.

He really wishes he could’ve seen Clint’s face at that moment, sadly success came with a price.

Right on schedule, the sharp red crackles of electricity catch him a couple of feet from the ground and he plants his feet on the ground, turning around to face Wanda.

“Thanks Wands”

“Oh I didn’t do it for you”

It takes him a second too long to figure out what she means but by the time he does it’s already too late, a dark red paintball slams into his protective vest.

“You’re a traitor, Wanda” Peter sulked, wow and here he thought he could actually win - or at least come second to Nat.

“All is fair in love and paintball”

5. Unwillingly, off a stage

Wanda had decided to pick Peter up from his Decathlon practice, it was always Happy who did it but he was sick and plus, they could grab some ice cream and talk before they had to head back.

She tapped her fingers idly on the steering wheel, rapping out a misplaced tune and glances again at the school gates.

She fixes the rearview mirror and frowns, Peter should have come skipping out 15 minutes ago.

Wanda steps out of the car and smooths her wrinkled hoodie, running her fingers through hair once in the window before walking towards the school.

Her sneakers squeak, echoing loudly through the empty hallways and she has to wrinkle her nose at the spitballs stuck to the walls and lockers. Someone’s book report flits around in the air and suddenly, she’s incredibly grateful she never had to go to a real high school.

There’s a piece of paper with a handwritten “Academic Decathlon” scribbled on it taped loosely on heavy, wooden doors and she pushes them open, shivering at the rush of cold air that bursts out.

Peering in, Wanda sees Peter on the stage but he’s not alone. There’s another high-schooler gripping hard at his shoulders and sneering at him, speaking words Wanda’s not close enough to hear. It doesn’t take any amount of genius to know the two boys weren’t friends/

She doesn’t even have time to intervene because Peter’s pushed off the stage, it’s barely a 2 foot fall but Wanda doesn’t care, she’s angry.

Peter looks at her in surprise with dark red cheeks once she puts him, gently, on the floor. He practically curls in on himself and she honestly wouldn’t be surprised if her skin was a similar shade as his, just not for the same reason.

She stomps up to the other boy who’s looking at her in alarm and pokes a harsh finger at his chest, “You. bastard.” she accentuates each word by pushing her finger even harder against his t-shirt, “What’s wrong with you?!”

She may not have gone to high school but she definitely knows what a bully is. She’s had plenty of her own in the past, even if she hadn’t realized it at first.

It wasn’t fair Peter had to go through the same thing, school wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was where you were supposed to goof off with your friends and learn, not get pushed around by kids because they think they’re better than you.

A hand tugs at her wrist and she’s so wound up nearly forgets to soften her face when Peter tugs again, silently asking her to just drop it.

She looks back at the bully who’s gone pale and pushes him, sending him stumbling back a few feet.

“Don’t touch my little brother again, asshole” she snarls before whipping around and dragging Peter out the doors by his backpack.

By the time they get to the car, Peter still hasn’t said a word and instead opts to look out the window, not even sparing Wanda a small glance.

Her face is still aflame and her hands are still clenched around the wheel as she pulls to the side of the road and parks, looking over at Peter. His eyes are tinged red.

“I’m sorry” he whispers, the second they’re parked.

“Don’t say sorry, it wasn’t your fault, but why didn’t you fight back? Just one shove”. It doesn’t make sense, Peter is strong enough to take on super-soldiers, he practically is one himself with all his advancements, so why doesn’t he just push back? He doesn’t have to get hurt like this, he doesn’t deserve to.

“I’m just Peter Parker. I’m not Spiderman at school so it wouldn’t make sense, I can’t just do that”, his fingers dig into his thighs and he kicks lightly at his backpack.

“Then you could’ve said something to us,” she’s looking up at him, eyes almost crazed. It’s not okay, it’s not even close alright, it’s awful that this happens to him.

And she knows it’s not just a one-time thing.

Not when bullying at Midtown has been discussed far too many times for comfort, not when he’s come back with bruises and marks even when he hasn’t patrolled in days, and definitely not when Peter just tried to subtly wipe a tear from his cheek.

She feels tired all of a sudden, as her raging wave of anger reaches a crescendo and plummets to the ground, scattering, dropping her intentions to take care of anyone who even comes close to hurting Peter with some well-placed punches and kicks.

Wanda sighs and squeezes her eyes shut, blindly, she grabs Peter’s hand and asks, “Was that the Flash guy?”

“No, Flash never gets physical, he’s not too bad. This is someone else”

“So you’ve been getting bullied by multiple people?”, it’s not a question, she already knows. “Peter, you’re Spiderman, you know this isn’t right so please, please the next time this happens just” she exhales, “Just please, promise you’ll tell someone, anyone and they’ll take care of it”

“Promise” Peter breathes from next to her.

“Okay” she pulls back into the traffic, “I’m getting cookie dough ice cream, which one do you want?”

+1. This one was definitely not supposed to happen, shit, shitshit

It’s getting really hard to breathe.

Which should probably not be happening, but in Peter’s defense, he hadn’t even wanted to skip class. MJ had told him to, quote, “Get out of here before your dumbass throws up on someone’s shoes” and for once he’d actually listened, deciding going home and sleeping his fever off was better than being stuck in a stuffy old classroom, doing schoolwork.

The heater of the apartment sounded like heaven and sunshine right about then.

He was just going to take the subway when one of the tv’s turned on, flashing a news report about the Avengers fighting the group of people near the tower.

According to the news channel, they had a whole lot of advanced technology, from ray guns to shapeless contraptions you couldn’t tell heads or tails of.

And there were a lot of them.

So of course, Peter had immediately donned his warm hoodie and jeans and switched into his suit, already swinging towards to get there, it made his stomach queasy and his head spin, but it was fine, he was already almost there.

“Peter, you’re not doing this right now, stop it and go home”, Tony’s voice is playing through Karen the second he’s in range.

“Technically, I’m supposed to be in school right now, Mr.Stark”, Peter swings onto a roof and crashes against someone, knocking them down before looking at the metal cube object they had abandoned.

It was glowing a light purple, which should probably not be happening.

He walked cautiously around it and his eyes widened as the glow got brighter and spread more, covering the entire cube now.

“Shit!”

Peter manages to scramble back before it explodes, leaving a black scorch mark on the floor and the smell of smoke in the air.

“Peter!?”

Oops, he’d forgotten Mr.Stark was there.

“Yeah I’m fine, just where did these people get all this stuff?”

“No idea, but Pete, I swear to god get out of here, or else I’m calling your aunt”, there’s a strangled grunt and the comms go silent.

“Mr.Stark??”, there’s no answer, “Karen, take me to Mr.Stark”

He swings two buildings away and lands on the 9th floor balcony, entering and running towards the signal. When he enters the room, Tony’s being held up against the wall by someone who’s wearing heavy metal body armor, it could pass for an Iron Man cosplay if you squint really hard.

He jumps over, kicking them down and ducking a punch. Grabbing the wrist of the armor, Peter twists their arm and slams them on their back before immediately looking back at Tony and helping him up.

“You okay?”, Peter questions.

“Yup, something she used fried the comm link though, I can’t get to to anyone else”

Peter nods and they both run through the halls, racing to get to the top of the building.

“What do they want?”

“I don’t know, but right now I think they’re just trying to blow stuff up”

Bursting onto the roof, there’s only one person there with some weird silver spear, which honestly looks pretty harmless compared to everything else.

The man there, sees them and immediately backs off, dropping everything and stumbling away with a forced smile.

Tony still closes in on him and Peter webs his wrists and legs to the floor, just in case.

They’re both looking down onto the other rooftops for trouble when the headache Peter has been ignoring grows, and he stumbles back feeling his fever spike.

Tony approaches him and kneels down next to him where he’s sprawled on the floor waiting for the dizzy spell to pass.

“Kid, you have a fever”, Tony says after asking Karen for his vitals.

Peter swallows and fights the urge to keel over and vomit, “I’m fine”

“If I had a penny for every time I heard that” he jokes, voice unbearably soft, “Listen, you stay here and I’ll come and get you when this is over, ‘kay?”

Peter’s about to nod when someone flies onto the roof, they’re wearing goggles and using mechanical wings to help them fly.

Peter’s too dizzy to do anything so he watches as Tony raises a gauntlet and fires it up with a low whine that resonates in Peter’s keyed-up ears.

“Back off”, Tony says as a warning.

The girl smiles and takes off the goggles, slipping them up on her head with a puckish smirk, folding her wings in.

“Pleasure to meet you Iron Man, as well as you Spider”, she has a lilting accent that Peter can’t place.

The gauntlet doesn’t falter, even as Tony shifts so Peter is stuck in his shadow, “What do you want?”

“I want one of your inventions. I may not be in charge of all these idiots, but my best friend is our leader and if you get me what I want, this can all be called off.”

“Best I can do are scraps from the intern labs, sorry.” he says, before firing a repulsor as she ducks out of the way.

“I wasn’t going to this the hard way but I suppose I’ll have to”, her curly, brown hair whips in her face as she puts it up into a ponytail, still dodging Tony’s blasts.

Peter’s spidey sense flares just as her wings do and she’s coming at him at full speed, lifting him up and flying up, past the buildings. Oh he really has to hurl now.

Tony swears and tries to blast up, only to realize the girl had stuck a small square chip on him and his suit’s shutting down, his breathing clips and he looks up to where Peter’s being flown up.

He gets out of the suit and runs to the edge of the roof, “Wilson!” he calls, signaling Sam over from where he’s hauling debris out of the street for a car to get through.

Sam flies up to him and without a word, grabs him and flies him over to where Clint, Natasha, and Wanda are a few buildings away. The whole 30 seconds he hasn’t taken his eyes off the Peter-shaped speck in the sky that’s getting harder and harder to see.

He stumbles over to Clint who’s looking at Wanda in concern, arms braced behind her to catch her if she falls.

Tony briefly wonders what’s going on, before looking up at the collapsing building in front of them, the scarlet circling her wrists, and the sheen of sweat covering her forehead.

Clint looks over to him, swallowing, “Steve’s in there trying to get the rest of the people out, we can’t get in though, it’s too unstable. The second Wanda lets go, the entire place is coming crashing down”

Tony can’t hide his panic anymore and he points up the sky, “Clint, it’s Peter”

Clint follows his finger and he jerks, seeing the red and blue suit in the distance, “Oh god”

The comms finally crackle back online and Tony swears his heart skips a beat when he realizes the bird lady just dropped Peter, oh my god.

They’re well over 4,000 feet up and his heart is in his throat as Peter’s screaming floods through the comms.

Wanda hears it too and her hold on the building falters as she falls to her knees, eyes squeezed shut. Clint moves to hold her but hovers around her instead, glancing back up at Peter when Wanda has a semi-stable grip again.

Natasha kneels on the ground next to Wanda, “You’re going to have to catch him”

Wanda’s voice teeters on a cry, “I’m trying”

Tony holds back his own cry and desperately tries to speak into the comms, if Peter realizes Tony’s trying to get through to him he doesn’t acknowledge it.

The comms are filled with wheezing and rushing wind and Tony’s gripping his arm so tight because that’s his kid dammit, and he can’t do anything.

Wanda’s attempts at catching him are proving futile, she can’t handle anything else without dropping the building which she can’t do, not when Steve and a whole lot of people are depending on her not to let it go.

“Sam, can’t you take your wings up and get him?”. He doesn't care how panicked his voice sounds right now.

“One of the guys stuck a chip on it, the thing’s dead-weight now” Sam says, voice filled with sorrow.

Tony gulps in a breath and falls on his knees next to Wanda, “You have to catch him, Wanda” there’s a grim undertone in his voice hiding the waver and pure terror flooding through his veins.

Wanda grunts, tears are shining in her eyes, if it’s because of the strain or Peter, he has no idea.

“GUYS! Guys, guys, I’m falling!” Peter screams into their earpieces, voice cutting out, hot tears squeeze at his eyes.

Wanda looks up with a new sense of determination and her eyes flash, Tony suddenly knows that anyone going toe-to-toe with her would probably run first chance instead of fight.

“You can do it Wanda, come on” Tony pleads.

Peter’s form is getting bigger every second, little by little.

At around 500 feet, a faint glimmer of red runs over his body but it’s not enough, it slows Peter’s fall the tiniest bit before he’s hurtling through the air again.

‘Tony, Tony, Tony” Peter says his name like a prayer in the comms and Tony clenches his fist again, switching between looking at Wanda and Peter so fast, he wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up with whiplash.

The strain on Wanda’s forehead grows and her eyes squeeze shut as she tears at her limits.

Tony stands beside where she’s kneeled on the ground, trying to see if he’d be able to catch Peter if this didn’t work. He really hoped it didn’t come to that though, he didn’t have his suit and with the speed Peter was falling at, he didn’t know what would happen.

Eyes focused on Peter, Tony realizes a thin, flickering layer of red is very slowly growing over his body. Relief bubbles in his throat and Wanda is able to slow Peter enough so that he and Sam can grab onto him, they all fall to the ground in a pile of limbs.

Tony grabs Peter under his shoulders and holds him upright as he gags and chokes on nothing, taking off his mask and brushing his curls off of his sweaty face.

Tony’s ears ring with the lingering screams of Wanda and Peter, his throat feels raw and he realizes that in his panic, he had been screaming too. And it wasn’t just his ears that were buzzing, it seemed like everything was still ringing, the air vibrating with panic.

Peter was held close to Tony’s chest as he shook with heaving gasps and suppressed sobs, dried tear tracks streak the sides of his face and Tony tries to comb his fingers through the knots in Peter’s hair.

Looking around, Tony took everything in, everyone’s faces were pale and Wanda was barely holding herself up on her elbows, her heavy pants were forced through clenched teeth.

She’d let go of her hold on the building as Steve had come running out, waiting till he was out of the damage zone before sending it all crashing down. All of that had happened just seconds after she had managed to gradually slow Peter down and get him to the ground in one piece.

A sigh of exhaustion huffs through Tony’s nose and the team sits in silence for a few minutes, trying to process all the chaos that had just happened.

Clint was helping Wanda, shakily, sit up and Peter crawled out of Tony’s arms to her before wrapping his trembling arms around her shoulders and whispering something to her.

Tony doesn’t know what was said but Peter was safe, everyone was safe. They were all alright and his breaths started to come easier.

Natasha sat next to him giving him a small, reassuring smile. He leaned back and shut his eyes, making a mental note to add a parachute to Peter’s suit, among many other things. Also to thank Wanda, because if she hadn’t been here...Tony didn’t want to think about it.

That was done now though. Tony’s chest feels much lighter when Peter smiles at him over Wanda’s shoulder, the type of smile that conveys a million emotions, with nothing else.

He gives a shaky grin back.

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dyde21 · 3 years

Text

Learning 2

Read on AO3 HERE

Summary: MJ is worried about Peter, and when she goes to check on him the next day she finds things are worse than she feared. Now can she help him see he needs help?

Michelle Jones was a bit scared by how easy it was to love Peter. What had started out as a simple fascination with an honest nerd with a bright smile turned into a school girl crush, and ended up with them falling in love and being happily together in college. Growing up, MJ never expected herself to end up in a gushy romance story. It wasn’t that she didn’t think she would fall in love, she just figured she’d be older and have a more mature, graceful descent into it.

But life didn’t care about her plans and she found herself lost in Peter’s smiles and safe in his arms. Something she honestly never expected was that her boyfriend would be an actual superhero. That really was less of throwing a wrench in her plans as much as blowing them up all together. But she was Michelle Fucking Jones. She could handle it. She’d learn, make a plan, and deal with it just like everything else in her life.

It definitely wasn’t easy at times. Having to learn basic first aid to help treat him when he stumbled into her apartment beat half to death, learning to keep up to date on all sorts of crazy villains so she could help him when he needed it, whether or not he asked for it. Having to accept that choosing to stay with him meant that there would be an unfortunate number of missed dates, or early departures. A constant worry that he might face a threat he wouldn’t be able to overcome, and the acceptance that her life may be thrown in the crosshairs eventually too.

But that didn’t matter to MJ. Not as much as he did. The way he listened to and absorbed every word she said, earnestly caring about what she was passionate about. The way he did his absolute best to be there for her when he was able to, and almost never blamed her for being upset with him. The way his eyes would crinkle when he laughed, or he’d see past her harsh words or thinly veiled lies to see what she truly meant and was scared to say. His understanding of her defensive habits built up from a rough childhood, and his patience to get through her walls. The way he gave himself for the city, while never asking for anything in return even when he deserved so much more than he had.

Her biggest gripe with him was probably that he tried to shoulder everything on his own. He had lost so much in his life, and she knew he felt like if he tried to reach out too much for someone, he’d only lose them too. He didn’t care about taking care of himself because there was always someone else he could help first, and he saw that as more important. She admired how selfless he was, but it also frustrated her because it went beyond being humble into being neglectful of himself and harmful. But he didn’t seem to be able to accept that fact no matter how hard they all tried to get it into his head. It hurt to be with someone like that, especially because of how much she loved him. But Michelle Jones was not a quitter, and nothing was going to get in the way of them. Not her own defensive nature or his self destructive habits, they’d learn together.

When she heard a knock on her door early on Saturday, her first thought was to look around the room to find a blunt object to bludgeon them with in return. Pulling down the hood of Peter’s hoodie that she had stolen, and needed to replace soon because it was losing his smell, she shuffled her way to the door.

Opening it, she was surprised to see her golden retriever of a boyfriend standing there looking shocked that she answered the door. She realized it had been the first time she had seen his face since he had bailed on their dinner to fight the Rhino. She couldn’t help the flash of frustration that boiled up. She had gone into the night expecting to be disappointed, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still sting when she had to send him off to save the city.

She knew, she knew perfectly that he really didn’t want to leave. She saw him starting to resign himself to staying with her. But she also knew that if someone died because they were having dinner, it’d destroy him on the inside, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty too. Reasonably she also knew that it wasn’t their fault. Neither of them had an obligation to drop everything, always, to deal with every problem. It was impossible to solve crime in New York completely. But she also knew he had to try, so she had sent him off and tried not to let the disappointment sting too much as she paid for the dinner and left, head hung high in defiance.

Then she saw his face though. The way his cheeks seemed a little more sunken, his beautiful brown eyes seeming just a little bit dimmer. Beyond just nerves, he was seeming even more ragged lately, and she doubted it was just because of the dinner. She felt concern growing in her chest at his state. But she was at least glad to see him. She really did miss seeing him, even if they were busy. Even when they were tense around each other, the first person she always wanted to go to for comfort was him.

“Hi.” She offered, seeing as he was still seemingly reeling from being pulled out of whatever internal spiral he had found himself in.

“U-uh hi. Yeah. I just…” He rambled, making her raise an eyebrow. She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms.

“I’m kinda busy.” She said, before wincing. That didn’t come out right. She knew he came over here to properly apologize, and probably had something else to tell her. It wasn’t that he was unwelcome, she just had a lot of studying left to do, and the lack of sleep and stress had made her snappy but she didn’t want him to think she was still angry about the dinner. That fight wasn’t worth it, and she had been the one to give him permission to go instead of making him choose between them that night. Ugh, emotions sucked sometimes.

“Right! I know.” He cleared his throat. “I know. I promise I’m not here to bother you. I just… here.”

Peter offered her one of her thermos he had borrowed one night. She took a sip a bit confused until she felt the familiar taste of her current favorite tea. She couldn’t help but smile as she knew he remembered her favorite tea, even if she had a habit of changing it monthly. He still always listened and committed it to memory as if her preferences were something he needed to know more than the material for his midterms.

“Also these. And an apology. I’m really sorry. I know I say that a lot. And it sucks. But I am.” Peter added as MJ found two boxes shoved into her arms too. Looking down, she was surprised as she saw they were boxes of that tea as well. Even when things had been tense, he still went out of his way to bring her a thoughtful gift he really didn’t have to. She wasn’t even waiting for an apology or some sort of peace offering. He had apologized plenty before and after he had left, but he still felt determined to make up the perceived slight to her.

She saw his gaze fall to the floor and she could practically see the crushing guilt he felt for literally saving people’s lives. He really was too kind for this stupid city that did nothing but chew him up and spit him back out. Moving forward, she tilted his chin up after moving her thermos to her other hand and shared a kiss with him.

After the kiss, he stared at her with that adorable slightly dazed expression he always had after they kissed. “I know you have work so I won’t distract you. I just… wanted to give you a little care package, and say I know you’ll rock this. I can proofread your article if you need me to too. Or just to get an opinion.”

Jesus, how did she end up with someone so sweet? He knew she was busy, despite being incredibly busy himself, and just wanted to support her without getting in her way. He also knew she liked getting a second opinion on her writing, and wanted to be there for her despite everything on his plate. Moments like these made her want to ask Stark for a suit just so she could beat up anyone who would dare hurt this man, just so she could keep him safe and give him the world.

“Thanks, Tiger.” She said. She couldn’t get past how ragged he looked though. The bags under his eyes were getting worse and his shoulders were sumping lower than they usually did. “Are you okay though?” She asked as she reached out to gently turn his jaw to get a better look at his profile. What normally made her heart flutter (he was very pretty) was now just making her concerned. His cheekbones weren’t normally this pronounced either, she had sketched them enough times to know for sure.

“Have you been eating? Sleeping? You look like shit.” She called him out, reading his expression to look for any of the rather obvious tells he had for lying. It really was a miracle more people didn’t know his identity because he sucked at lying. Or she had just spent too long staring at his face that she could read him like he was her favorite book. (He was)

“Oh, ouch.” She rolled her eyes, that little shit. He knew exactly what she meant. “Midterms.” Peter brushed off her concerns with a shrug. “Happens to us all. I mean you always look beautiful. But you also look a little less beautiful. Only stunningly gorgeous today.”

He had the audacity to look smug while trying to flatter his way out of her interrogation. No matter how sweet he was, she wasn’t that stupid. She gently shoved his shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t try to make myself look nice hoping you’d drop by unannounced.” She replied in a dry tone. “But Gwen and I are making sure we take care of each other. You’re still living alone since Ned moved in with Betty. I’m worried.”

MJ was straightforward like always, knowing beating around the bush with Peter didn’t usually lead anywhere. They resolved things better when they got straight to the point, that’s how they functioned as a couple. Peter would be too flighty if you let him when he was trying to hide something. His solution to hiding something was to leave, which always only made it more glaringly obvious.

“I’ll be fine. Just gotta get a lot done this weekend. Then I’ll rest next week sometime. Maybe we can have a night in, no suit, no alerts.” He said with one of the fake smiles MJ hated. She hated seeing him bottle up what he was feeling, and she was pretty sure even he knew she wasn’t fooled by them.

But she was also a little startled by the desperation she could see in his eyes. She was used to seeing some sort of exhaustion, all college students had it. Even the non-super powered ones. But this almost scared her a little. Like the light in his eyes was flickering out and he was desperately searching for something to hold onto. A sort of lifeline to keep him going.

“Yeah. Sounds nice. I’d like that.” She said, honestly meaning that. She wasn't sure if they’d actually get to have that night, but she was desperate to give him the comfort he so clearly needed right now.

She leaned in for another kiss when her eyes saw his collarbones. “Pete, you need to eat. You’re losing weight again.” She scolded. She had also drawn his collarbones to know that they weren’t usually that pronounced either. (She drew him a lot, okay?)

She could see his own walls starting to form as he was rejecting the truth he was running from. That he needed help, like every person on this freaking planety did. “I will! I bought stuff today.” he offered, and MJ was not impressed.

“I can’t wait to read your article. You better send it to me!” With that he was off down the hallway, leaving MJ to watch him leave and lean against the doorway with a sigh. Her thoughts were now on him, and she could tell he was falling into a rut again. This happened occasionally when everything in his life seemed to pile on.

Stepping back in, she set the tea down and texted Ned.

Peter just brought me a gift and offered to help me with work. Lemme know if our little santa shows up at your place next.

There was a beat before Ned responded.

Oh shit, is he doing rounds again? He’s not Mr.Stark he can’t afford to give gifts every time he’s stressed.

MJ knew that was true and walked back over to her work station, chewing her lip. Stressed out Peter around midterms was bad. But he was also left alone now, which meant it was even easier for him to push everyone away with his bad habits. MJ knew she had to talk to him tomorrow, check in just to make sure he was actually okay. Even if just for her sanity. She’d really rather find out she was reading too much into the situation and be wrong, than realize she was right.

But that meant she had to finish her work tonight, so she could focus on him properly tomorrow. She didn’t moonlight as a vigilante, and she was a good student, so she was actually not too worried about her midterms, she had been studying properly. She just had to finish this article and she’d be good. Though some of that credit went to Gwen cause while it kinda sucked to keep yourself on track, it was easy to keep someone else focused so they worked together this term.

When she got the text from Ned a little later, that he had indeed shown up, MJ felt more fear creep into her heart. That meant he was doing his rounds. This wasn’t just thoughtful Peter, this was panicked Peter. She just hoped he would take care of himself and get through this weekend in one piece.

MJ had to employ every trick in her book to stay focused to get through the article and not let her day be wasted worrying about Peter. There wasn’t much she could do right now, other than set herself up to be in a good position to help him.

When she finally heard Gwen come home a little later she looked up and offered a smile.

Gwen turned, one earbud in as she sang along to the music in her ears. A song her boyfriend Miles had shown her recently she recognized. She paused when she saw MJ, and her brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with Peter?” Gwen asked, setting down her stuff and moving to sit across from MJ.

Scowling at being read so easily, she crossed her arms a bit defiantly. “What do you mean?” She asked, just to be a little difficult.

Gwen rolled her eyes, not impressed with MJ’s show of bravado. “You have your Peter scowl on.” She explained simply.

“I don’t have a Peter scowl.” MJ replied.

In return, Gwen gave MJ the flattest look she had ever seen on the girl. “You’re chewing your lip, your shoulders are hunched and you keep glancing at your phone. You wouldn’t look at the phone if it had to do with your work, and Peter would be over here too if it had to do with Ned. Seeing as I haven’t gotten any major news updates it means Peter’s not kicking butt right now either, which meant something is wrong with him.” Gwen reasoned annoyingly well.

MJ just sighed. “I hate you sometimes.”

Gwen shrugged, a cheerful smile on her face. “You’re not that complicated once someone gets to know you. But what’s up, is he okay?” Gwen asked, leaning forward.

MJ thought about being stubborn for a little longer, but realized she was just being moody because she was in fact worried about Peter. “I don’t know. He’s doing his rounds again.” MJ said, motioning to the tea boxes on the counter.

Gwen looked over before she sighed. “Ah, I see.”

It turned out Gwen and Peter got along pretty well, and she had joined the Friends of Spider-man club pretty quickly. In true Parker fashion, it had been an accident. He had climbed into her window one night after a fight with the vulture, half dead and bleeding. Gwen had heard the thump and MJ’s freaking out, and came to investigate. The blonde had thought she was killing Spider-man until she saw who it was with his mask off. Since then, MJ was actually grateful she had someone else to freak out with when stuck watching the news during a nasty fight, or someone she could openly complain to when it came to the more difficult aspects of dating a superhero.

Peter had apologized about potentially putting Gwen in danger by knowing and Gwen shut that shit down hard, scolding him almost as bad as MJ had about not getting to choose whether she stays involved with him for her. That was when Gwen had cemented herself as MJ’s number one female friend.

Gwen leaned back on the chair, twirling her hair as she thought through the situation. “I assume May is okay?”

MJ nodded. “He doesn’t hide stuff like that. If she was sick he would have told us straight up. I don’t think it’s Avengers related either. He’s gotten better about telling us when he can’t give us specifics.”

Gwen nodded, sighing. “Maybe it’s just midterms? We’re all kind of a mess right now.”

MJ sighed, running her hand through her hair with frustration. “Maybe. I don’t know. He hasn’t been sleeping and he’s lost a lot of weight. Again. The idiot is also trying to hide it.”

Rolling her eyes, Gwen stood up. “Like he’s good at hiding things.” She put her hands on her hips and looked at MJ. “Come on, you need a break. I’ll order some chinese food, you choose a movie. You’re not going to get any work done like this, and I’m putting off studying.” She replied cheerfully, making MJ laugh.

“Fine. Fine.” MJ reletened, saving her almost done article and closing her laptop. She needed a distraction and to process the new problem in her mind so she could get back on track.

By the time Gwen had finished ordering their usual MJ had chosen a movie and was curled up on one end of the couch, clutching the pillow close as she stared at the TV.

“Aww, you don’t even realize you’re doing it, do you?” Gwen said, sitting on the opposite end and nudging MJ’s thigh with her foot.

Returning fire with a confused look, MJ tilted her head slightly. “What?”

Pointing at the pillow MJ was clutching to her chest, Gwen waited.

Looking down, MJ saw that she was clutching the Spider-man throw pillow Gwen had gotten her as a joke gift for her birthday after she found out about Peter. Petulantly, she turned her head back towards the movie, but made no attempt to hug the pillow less. She did however scowl when Gwen’s laughter rang out.

When her phone let out the jingle set only to Spidey news, her heart sank. “He’s not stupid enough to go out this weekend, right? He has midterms and he looked like he was barely holding himself together. He’s not that fucking stupid, right?” MJ asked herself mostly as she dove for her phone. Sure enough news reports of Spidey fighting the Rhino were at the top of her notifications.

“I’m gonna kill him.” MJ said, glancing at Gwen who had already paused their movie and was turning on the news.

Gwen winced as she saw Rhino throw the car at him. “Looks like you might have to get in line.”

“GWEN!” MJ shrieked at her, still staring at the screen.

“Sorry, wrong time.” Gwen offered, her eyes glued to the shaky footage.

They both gasped as Peter was slammed against the wall by the car then the Rhino and from the helicopter footage there was a heart-stopping moment where it looked like he had been impaled. Before MJ could even begin to process that horrible reality Peter had kicked him off and continued the fight.

When Rhino was finally down MJ felt like she had lost another year to her life. “He’s so freaking stupid. I’m switching majors and becoming an architect so I can build him a special prison so he can stay there and be safe. I’ll build him a fucking jungle gym so he can still feel like Spider-man if he wants to. I’m never letting him go out into the fucking streets again.” MJ ranted as Gwen rubbed her back.

Then they saw the cops pointing guns at Spider-man and MJ was on her feet. “Are you serious? The fucking cops are going to shoot Spider-man because they can’t do their goddamn jobs? That they have to let a student clean up the messes they can’t with their defense fund of a budget in this freaking city?”

Gwen stayed silent. Her dad was a cop, and she knew most of the cops did like Spidey, but she also knew that orders were orders. She was also aware MJ was still in one of her spidey-panics and not actually looking for a calm rational debate about police funding.

Luckily they watched Peter vanish and they switched back to the movie, Gwen stealing glances occasionally as she saw MJ slowly come down from the rush. They finished their movie and food and both went back to work.

By the time MJ had finished her first draft of the article she felt like she had calmed down. She knew Peter would be back from patrol by now, and hopefully eating and taking a rest so she sent him a text.

Saw the alert. You okay?

She knew he was probably fine if he hadn’t come crawling in her window asking for help. Which was good news. But she also always wanted to just pull him into a hug and keep him safe after she saw him on the news which she didn’t get to do when he was back at his place.

I’m fine. Nothing broken this time. Promise. Was his response. She stared at it for a moment, as if the text on the screen would reveal more information if she intimidated it enough. She was pretty sure he was telling the truth this time at least. “Nothing broken, he says.” She relayed to Gwen, who let out a sigh of relief.

You better not be lying. Wanna read my article? Are you caught up on midterms?

She responded, already pulling open an email to send it to him. She knew his response before he even typed it.

Yeah, doing surprisingly well. I can use a break. Send it over.

Thanks, Tiger. She responded and stared at the body of the email, debating what to say.

Part of her wanted to scold him for going out when he had so much on his plate. Wanted to tell him he was being reckless. Another part wanted to praise him and leave him a sweet message. Hopefully give him something to smile about when he saw the message after the long fight, but that felt too cheesy.

She typed some stuff, staring at the blinking cursor.

Here’s the essay. Lemme know your thoughts. Make sure you drink water tonight, and go shower. I know you’re lazy about it after patrol.

She chewed her lip, hovering over the send button. Was she too pushy?

“Oh my god, just hit send.” Gwen said, not even looking up from her own laptop.

Reflexively MJ hit the send button before she even realized she was. “How did you know?”

“Because if you stared any harder at the laptop without typing anything it was going to catch on fire.” Gwen said, only glancing up to give her a smug smirk before looking back down.

MJ flipped her off, which Gwen cheerfully returned.

Managing to review a few chapters from the notes she had, she finally got the email back from Peter. Scanning through it, she couldn’t help the smirk on her features. Sometimes fighting crime in spandex and geeking out over the newest electronic thing Tony made made MJ forget how smart Peter was in other fields as well. His points were well reasoned, and his critiques honest but fair. She found herself agreeing with pretty much every point he made, and almost felt dumb she didn’t catch them herself.

“I take it he sent back useful notes?”

“Stop reading me, Gwen.”

“Then make it at least a little bit of a challenge.”

MJ just scowled but texted Peter.

Thanks Tiger, you’re the best. You actually made good points, I’m impressed. Need me to check over your essay?

She couldn’t help the smile as she doodled a little spider in the corner of her notebook, spinning a web in the shape of a heart.

It still needs some work before I can show it to anyone. I’m good, thanks though. Love you. Her phone buzzed.

This made MJ frown again. “Needs some work” was his slang for not done at all. He wasn’t shy about showing her unpolished writing. He was shy about showing unfinished writing. That meant he was behind. And he still went out fucking patrolling. MJ threw her pen down, leaning her head back and rubbing her face. Was he trying to stress her out or was that a natural gift that came with the spider bite. That meant she needed to make sure he actually got some help with his essay tomorrow so he could get some much needed sleep.

Love you too. Get some sleep, okay? I know the Rhino is annoying and I saw you get hit with that car. I can help you study tomorrow so get some sleep. She practically ordered him. She knew the chances were slim, but she hoped just once he’d be a good little spider and listen to her when she was making sense.

You still have studying to do too, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. So much for that. She couldn’t think of a response that wouldn’t end up with them arguing with each other over text so she just set her phone down. His inability to accept help was seriously a problem and she was going to have to confront him about it after midterms. She’d drag in the whole FoS group if she needed to, because this wasn’t healthy. She knew he knew better, and she really didn’t want to date someone who couldn’t take care of themselves. Especially when she knew he could, but wouldn’t. That was the most frustrating part of it.

Gwen must have read she was at her wits end because she closed both of their laptops. “That’s enough for tonight. You look like you’re about to kidnap Peter yourself and I stopped caring about my grades about an hour ago so we should sleep. Tomorrow we can figure out how to download the latest update of common sense into Peter, okay?”

MJ nodded, leaning back in her chair. “Yeah. You’re right. Thanks Gwen.” She got up and pulled her friend into a hug. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Gwen returned it and shrugged. “Either kill Peter, or kidnap him and put him in a zoo for safety, probably.”

MJ laughed. “We have some unused space here. We could build a nice little enclosure for him.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Please, we both know whenever he’s over here he stays in your bedroom.”

MJ flushed red. “Shut up!”

Gwen just laughed and walked away, waving her hands as she disappeared into her room.

MJ made sure the apartment was locked up safely before she went to her bed, pulling the little Spider-man plushy she had gotten to see the reaction Peter would make when he saw it a little closer, and was out within minutes.

XxXxXxXxX

The next morning MJ found herself making the trek to his apartment. She had her backpack with her work in it, one of his favorite coffees and some bagels for breakfast. She thought it might be a little early, but also knew that he was probably already up because he was allergic to sleep even when he didn’t have nightmares. What she didn’t expect to see when she made her way up to his floor though was a couple of neighbors standing nervously in the hallway.

She approached a little faster. She quickly made her way to his door, knocking on it. “Peter?”

She tried knocking again when one of his neighbors approached. “You’re his girlfriend right. Is he okay? We heard shouting and a loud crash.” They said a bit nervously. MJ’s heart kicked into overdrive. Peter almost never shouted and crashing in a superhero’s house usually meant very bad things.

“PETER!” She called out, fishing out his spare key he had given her and unlocked the door, closing it behind her to keep out prying eyes just in case.

Setting down her bag, she looked around and felt her stomach sink lower and lower with each thing she saw. His place was a disaster, but it didn’t look like a fight had happened. It just looked like a mess. But even just a messy apartment, it was worse.

Then she saw the pan sticking out of the broken cabinet and she gasped. Peter never abused his super strength. He was also so careful with it, always terrified of hurting or breaking things.

She finally found him next to the counter on the ground, violently shaking and she could see the tears streaming down his face. “Peter?”

“MJ…” His voice sounded so broken she felt her throat tighten at the sound and it terrified her to her core. Even injured she had seen him with more life than this. She rushed over to his side, trying to find any injuries before she touched him but he seemed fine physically.

But this apartment… she saw the pile of trash, the dirty dishes, the laundry. This wasn’t a healthy space to live in, and was way worse than anything she had ever seen before. Peter was normally a bit of a mess, but all genius’ tended to be. This was different, this was scarier. They often said a person’s workspace is a reflection of who they are as a person, and she prayed that wasn’t true in this moment because she was terrified for Peter if it was.

“Are you okay?” She asked gently as she saw him, still shaking, still crying. MJ knew just how much he hated her seeing him like this, but he wasn’t even able to put up a front. Just what was going on?

“No…” His voice confessed and MJ pulled him into her chest, hugging him as tight as she could. She kissed the top of his hair, just holding him while he shook in her arms and she tried desperately to stay in control of herself.

How much did Peter have to be hurting to fall this far? What kind of hell was going on in his head that led him to this situation. A part of her wondered how she hadn’t noticed the signs earlier. What kind of girlfriend was she if she couldn’t even tell her boyfriend was falling apart at the seams?

She forced those thoughts deep down inside. Now was not the time to dwell on insecurities. Peter was falling apart right now and Goddamnit she was going to fix it. She was going to help him fix it himself. Peter needed help, and there was no force in the world that would stop her from getting him the help he needed. Whatever it was, whoever it neede to be, MJ vowed as she held her shaking boyfriend that she was going to make sure he got what he needed and what he fucking deserved.

But she needed a plan. This entire situation was almost overwhelming, but she had to get a grip on things right now. Help him get his feet underneath him, so they could start to rebuild.

“S-stove…” He choked out.

MJ nodded, kissing the top of his head one more time before she stood up and turned off the stove that was emanating heat. She felt his hand resting around her ankle, desperate for contact still and a lump formed in her throat. How the hell had he gotten so low without anyone noticing?

She crouched down next to him, seeing him shaking still. She recognized that too now. It wasn’t just sadness, he had gone into a full blown sensory overloaded, because of fucking course Peter wasn’t in enough hell right now.

“Peter…” She whispered as quiet as she could, knowing he would hear her just fine. “I’m going to turn off the lights then I’ll be right back.”

“I-I fi-” She cut him off with a brief kiss to the lips, staring directly into his eyes.

“I love you so much, Peter. But I swear to God you are not allowed to use that phrase for the next week or I’m putting on the Rhino outfit and kicking your ass myself.”

Thankfully her little threat got the tiny smile she was hoping for and she quickly made her way over to the light switch, flicking off all the lights in the apartment so only some light filtered in from the windows. She saw the pancake on the ground, and the plate on the edge and was able to piece together what had happened. She gently picked it up and set it on the plate before she sat down next to Peter again slowly wrapping an arm around him and letting him lean into her.

MJ could feel his fists balling up in her (his) sweater and he continued to sob into her shoulder. She whispered the quietest reassurances and just let him get it all out. She knew how cathartic a cry could be, and she wanted to just let him ride the wave and let out whatever had been building up for so long.

“It’s okay, Tiger. Let it all out. I got you. You don’t need to be strong right now. I got you.” She reaffirmed, kissing his head again.

MJ wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, and honestly she didn’t care. He needed her in that moment, and that was where she would be.

Eventually though it seemed like Peter was able to slowly piece himself back together enough for the sobbing to become occasional sniffles. He started to move back, but she held him in place for just a moment longer, not wanting him to rush into putting up any walls. They clearly needed to have a talk, and it was going to happen now.

Scooting over, she sat so she was in front of him, letting her legs spread on either side of his legs so they could sit opposite in the tiny area between the island and the counter.

He stared at her for a moment, and she saw him open his mouth once or twice to say something before he closed it.

She raised three fingers. “3 rules, okay?”

Peter seemed surprised, but a little grateful for her making the first move. He nodded after a moment, still quiet.

“Rule 1. No apologies. Not right now. I love you Peter, and I’m here to help. I know you feel bad, but you do not need to feel sorry for crying, or for needing my help. You can make it up to me later, deal?” She offered, watching his reaction very carefully. She knew Peter, and she was pretty sure what he needed right now was some structure and order. If she felt like her approach was wrong she’d stop immediately, but she slowly saw him nod.

“Okay.”

MJ beamed at him, squeezing his knee reassuringly. “Good. Rule 2. For the next week, you are not allowed to say the phrase ‘I’m fine.’ I don’t care if you are, in fact, fine. You can’t say that. Be more descriptive, and be honest. I won’t use that phrase either, deal?” She offered, waiting, watching.

He looked at her for a moment, before he nodded again, another small smile. “Okay.”

MJ grinned and reached over to hold his hand on the floor, entwining their fingers.

“Good. Rule 3. We’re talking. Right now. About everything we can. No running away, no getting mad, no assigning blame. Either of us. Nothing else matters right now. Not midterms. Not Spider-man. Not even the next season of the Great British Bake-off. Just us. Right here, right now. I’ll be honest with you, and you be honest with me. Deal?” She asked.

She could see the battle in his eyes. The desperate struggle between asking for the help he needs, and his desire to avoid being a burden to others.

She waited patiently, but continued to squeeze his hand and beg him to reach out.

“Please, Tiger. Let me in.” She said softly.

She saw another tear escape him as he nodded.

“Okay.”

Getting up awkwardly, she managed to lean over and share a quick kiss with him. She tried her best to convey how grateful she was, how much she loved him. Eventually she sat back and watched him carefully. “I’m proud of you. So much. I know how hard it can be, but you’re not alone.”

Peter nodded, resting his head back against the cabinet.

“How are your senses?” She asked, still in that same barely audible whisper.

“They’re better now. You noticed right away.” He offered with a small smile that brought just a little bit of light back into MJ’s life right now.

“I always was observant.” She offered, earning a bigger smile from him.

MJ gently knocked her knee against his. “So what is going on?”

She could see the battle that raged in his eyes. Years of desperate self denial warring with the knowledge he needed help.

“Peter, you know I love you right?” She offered and he nodded.

“I can’t stand to see you like this. I can’t date someone who won’t take care of themselves.” For the briefest moment she saw something she almost never saw on him. Pure, unadulterated fear. She’d seen him stare down villains with more tech than him and a single desire to kill him with less fear. Stamping out the flames of any doubt she had just caused with her point she rushed on.

“Peter, listen. I love you. And I am never letting you go. Not now, not ever. But you need… help.” She said carefully. She felt like she was walking a tightrope. There were a million ways this conversation could go, but she knew it had to happen. It was probably long overdue too.

“I can manage…” Peter tried weakly, and she could still see the warring desperation on his features. That was one look she never wanted to sketch.

She gestured around a bit. “Tiger, things look a little… rough.” She squeezed his hand, trying to pour as much reassurance as she could into him. “We all need help, Pete. If I called you crying because the stress of finals was too much, would you break up with me?” She asked patiently. A little smirk came to her lips as she saw the instant call to action as he almost looked offended at the suggestion.

“Of course not! I would nev-”

“See?” She asked, knowing this point had been made before but hoping it stuck a little better this time. “Tiger, you have more on your plate than anyone else I know. You save the city nightly, you’re taking advanced chemistry classes, you’re dating a high-strung girlfriend, and you’re living alone. We can’t do everything alone.”

He was quiet, letting the words sink in.

“I’m not alone…” He replied in a soft voice.

“Exactly. But you act like it.”

Peter’s eyes widened as he looked at her for a moment, and she could see thoughts forming and bursting in his head as the realization set in. She gave him the time he needed to process it. She wasn’t trying to catch him off guard, or trick him into accepting anything. She needed him to understand and accept the truth he was hiding from. The truth he thought he had to reject.

“How do you feel right now? Before I showed up.” She asked once she saw him relax a little.

“...tired. I’m so fucking tired, Em.” He confessed after a moment. MJ knew exactly what he meant. It was beyond physical.

“That’s fine, Peter. You deserve to be after all the work you do. It’s normal to feel tired. But it’s also normal to do something about it.” She said and MJ could see it happening. She could see him slowly accepting the truth, slowly reaching out for the help he needed.

MJ knew Peter’s struggles weren’t unfounded. They weren’t from a sense of laziness or pure stubbornness. Like her own struggles with emotions and letting people in, they were formed as a natural response to years of life battering the lesson into them. Losing his parents, then Ben. Having to hide his identity from the people who loved the most in order to keep them safe because there were people out there who would use them in a heartbeat to get to him.

Peter’s walls weren’t just him being stubborn. They were a desperate survival instinct to prevent him from losing anyone else. But that had to end. He had some many people in his life who loved him who would be more than happy to help him out just a little of the amount he helped them. He just had to let them.

“... I don’t know what to do.” His voice was a little louder, as if he was accepting the words finally. “MJ, I promise you I’ve been trying. There’s just so much. There’s just so fucking much right now. I swear I wasn’t trying to let you do-”

MJ silenced him with a kiss, knowing he was on another spiral. She leaned back after a moment, making eye contact with him. “Peter. I know you have. I’m so fucking proud. I know you have been trying. You’ve done so much Peter, I know that. You’ve managed more than what many people could with half of your responsibilities. You’ve always been my hero.” She said with as much conviction as she could possibly muster to get the message across.

Because she was so fucking proud of him. For both trying as hard as he did, even if it had been a little misguided. She knew how earnest he was in trying to do what he thought was right, and that was what mattered. But she was also filled with pride for him accepting that he needed to change too.

Peter lowered his legs and MJ sat on his lap, straddling him. “It’s okay to not know what to do either. I don’t either. Gwen is half the reason I haven’t dropped out of my classes, and you’re the other half. Peter, you’re the reason I’ve been able to make all these connections in my life. Because you had the answers I needed about opening up, and you helped me.” She admitted, kissing him again. “Peter, you’re the voice in my head when I’m filled with doubt. It’s your red and blue spandex butt that gives me the kick I need.”

Peter laughed, but his eyes were shining at her, like she had just told him the secret to the universe. God, she was so hopelessly in love with her dork.

She pressed on just a little more, knowing they were finally there. “You know what needs to happen next, right?” She asked, reaching up to cup his cheek and give him the permission she knew he was still desperately seeking.

“I…” He trailed off, chewing his lip. “I need to ask for help.”

MJ kissed him. Hard. God, she was so fucking proud of him. It was such a simple statement, and the farthest thing from a secret. But she knew how hard that statement could be. She knew how hard it was for her when she found herself in college still pushing away anyone who attempted to get close to her and clinging to Peter. Putting yourself out there was one of the scariest things a person could do.

When she pulled back, she gently wiped away some of his tears. “Correct.”

Peter laughed, his arms sliding to her waist. “I should be correct more often, then. If that’s how I get rewarded.”

MJ felt her heart soar that he was making jokes again. That he was slowly pulling himself back together.

She felt his fingers fidgeting on her side. “Do… you think they’ll still help me? I don’t know how much help I need but I’m worried it’s too much…”

MJ couldn’t control the laughter that escaped her as he stared at her, utterly bewildered.

“Peter…” She said, slowly regaining her composure. “You sweet summer child, you have no idea how many people are in your corner and ready to help you.” She said, reaching her arms up to his shoulders and rubbing her thumbs over his collar bones. “We’ve been waiting for you to ask us.”

Peter’s eyes brimmed with tears again as he nodded. She could see there was still some disbelief. She didn’t blame him, it wasn’t like you could completely change years of habits in one conversation. But she could see his determination there, to make a change. That was all that was ever needed.

“Peter, I’m pretty sure you could declare war on a country and you have enough people to overthrow it on your side.” She teased, only half joking though. She’d been around the Avengers enough with him to know they would literally walk through hell for him.

“I have had my eye on Canada…” He muttered and MJ laughed again, maybe a little harder than the joke deserved but the rush of endorphins of this conversation and breakthrough had her on an emotional high.

“So what now?” He asked, and she could see the yawn escaping him. She knew just how tiring emotions could be, let alone the fact he clearly had been putting his body through hell if that bruise that she had been doing her best to ignore was still that bad.

MJ’s mind was already off to the races though. Plans were forming, she knew who she needed to reach out to. The love of her life needed help, and finally, finally asked for it. She was going to make sure he fucking got it. She knew he had to be in control, he had to make the choices if he was going to learn, but she was going to give him every fucking option out there.

MJ saw him watching her patiently, a slightly goofy smile on his face as he must have known she was deep in a plan.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, MJ knew it was show time. “Okay, how much can you trust me this week?” She asked, a fierce determination in her tone.

Peter cocked his head to the side like the fucking golden retriever of a boyfriend he was. “Completely.” Jesus, how did he answer that so quickly and so honestly like that? He was way too good for this hellhole of a city.

Not even bothering to hold back the smile that she was pretty sure was most of her face now, she nodded. “Okay. You’re in complete control this week. You get the final say in everything, but I want you to just listen to me for now and I will do everything I can to help make things better anyway I can.”

She saw his eyes regarding him, flickers of an old doubt creeping in.

“You’re busy with midt-”

“Neither of us will fail our midterms either. I promise you this won’t be putting me out, deal? Let me help you, please. I promise you I want to be doing this, more than you know.” God, it was true too. She finally had a chance to give him just a little bit of the world he deserved, something MJ had been wanting to do for years.

Peter slowly nodded. “Okay, I trust you.”

She gave him a quick kiss before standing up, taking his hand and helping him up.

“Okay. First things first, this place needs… help.” She said gently, and Peter laughed.

“That’s an understatement. MJ, I appreciate you being gentle, but your snark won't scare me off. Promise.” He said, squeezing her hand. MJ couldn’t help but smile in return. Even when she was trying to be accommodating to him, he was still trying to reassure her that she didn’t need to change for him.

“Okay, this place is stressing me out just standing here. You need to survive midterms and you’re not going to do that here. So pack your duffle bag you use for trips with some clothes, and bring all your Spider-man stuff too. You’re staying with us this week.” She ordered.

Peter’s eyes widened but he slowly nodded. He moved to his room to start, but he emerged a second later, eyes downcast. “I… my clothes… laundry…” He muttered out, and MJ could see the shame rolling off of him. She walked over, nudging his shin with her foot until he looked up at her. “We have washing machines too, dork. Just bring some stuff, preferably whatever doesn’t have your blood on it.” She offered with a smile.

He slowly nodded and went back to packing. MJ was hardly going to fault him for not doing laundry. She understood how with everything piled up, it could just be another knife of shame in his gut, but it wasn’t like she had never had to steal Gwen’s clothes because she had nothing clean.

MJ glanced around the apartment while she waited and felt the lump come back in her throat. She wasn’t grossed out as much as sad. She knew that for it to get this bad, everything really must have piled on. He was usually pretty good about cleaning, from helping his aunt while growing up. The place was also barebones now. It hardly looked lived in as much as just where he crashed between activities. But she already had plans on how to help turn this into more of a home, and knew two women who would be more than eager to help him.

When Peter returned with the duffle bag she saw him glance around. She could tell he was hating himself again so she stepped up. “Now get all the stuff you need for school, okay?” She ordered, snapping him out of his monologue as he nodded and started to gather his laptop and textbooks. MJ walked around, making sure nothing had to be unplugged or was left on, knowing he wouldn’t be here for a while.

A couple of minutes later and he was done. He stood near the door with his two bags, looking at the pile of dishes with unbridled disgust. She stepped into his line of sight, smiling at him. “Everything Spidey is hidden?” He nodded. “Good, now come on. Don’t worry about this place, I already have plans for this, okay? You’re not the only college kid with a dirty apartment.”

Peter looked at her a bit wary of her plans but nodded with a smile. “Thanks MJ. I’m s-”

“Rule 1.” She interrupted, crossing her arms.

He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Thank you for helping me, MJ.”

“Better.” She offered, kissing him before turning him and shoving him out the door. “Let’s go, we still have work to do and my place smells better cause Gwen is obsessed with those air scent things.”

Peter laughed, and they were able to make small talk as they made the trip back to her place, as she sent a text to Gwen.

Peter is staying with us for the week. He finally asked for help. Time to rally the forces.

A block later she got a text.

Thank God. He can learn! I assume you have plans? We’ll have a war council later.

So many. Operation Fuck-Parker-Luck is a go.

I’ll leave the fucking to you.

Gwen! I hate you. So much.

Love you too, I’ll bring home his favorite pizza tonight.

MJ rolled her eyes, but glanced back at Peter who was looking at her confused.

“Gwen is getting Pizza tonight for us.”

“She doesn-”

“Peter, do you really wanna tell Gwen not to help right now? You’re gonna be locked in an apartment with us for a week, I think you’re better off staying on her good side.” She offered and saw Peter let out a defeated sigh. MJ just smiled and squeezed his hand. “Good boy. I really don’t wanna listen to her yelling at you again.”

“Me neither.” Peter said, but she still saw the smile on his face. She knew Gwen was probably the best person to counter his chaotic energy with her own. MJ was probably the most stubborn out of all of them, but Gwen definitely was the more fiery. She remembered one time after a stupid fight she had with Peter, where it had really boiled down to her taking out frustration with school on him, and Gwen had literally locked her out of the apartment until she went and apologized to him.

By the time they made it back to the apartment, Peter looked practically dead on his feet. When she had done her check of his place to turn stuff off she saw how little food he had. She knew his physical state had to be awful as well.

Ushering him into her room, she let him store his stuff while she moved back to their kitchen and made a quick sandwich. She knew he needed to sleep but wanted him to get a little more food in him first. She could worry about stuffing him full of food properly later. At least this week would give her plenty of time to try out the new recipes she had been collecting.

She knew the first problems she would tackle if she was going to get help for Peter, so while her zombie munched away on the sandwich with his eyes closed, she sent texts to Nat, Wanda, and Pepper. Just to give them a heads up that Peter had to talk to them later. She wasn’t going to make choices for him, but she knew the opportunities he had but was refusing to see so she just had to present them for him.

By the time she had shuffled Peter back to her bedroom and into comfier clothes she had gotten back affirming messages from all of them to meet later. For now though, she got Peter to lay down and cuddled next to him in the bed, pulling his head against her chest as she carded her fingers through his hair.

“My paper…” he mumbled out, barely conscious.

“Just sleep for now, Tiger. I got you. Everything will be fine.” She muttered, kissing the top of his head.

“I know.” He muttered, pulling himself a little closer and he was out cold.

MJ just continued to run her fingers through his hair, so proud of him. So ready to help him. So full of love for him. She knew she had a long week ahead of her, but with him in her arms she never felt more ready for it.

#spideychelle #michelle jones #peter parker #fanfiction #gwen stacy #MCU #marvel spiderman #spider-man

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joyful-soul-collector · 4 years

Text

Misser Star’

By @joyful-soul-collector for @wh0doyouthinkyouareiam!

For the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange!

Rating: General Audiences

Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Helen Cho

Summary:

“Woah there Sea Legs,” Tony said, catching him under the arms and setting him up straight. “Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself.” “The sea is in my legs,” Peter said, clinging tight to Tony’s arm as he wobbled slightly. “What if my legs… were in the sea?” “Oh wow--this is going to be fun.”

Peter gets his wisdom teeth taken out, and is a very silly lad

Story is under the cut, or you can read it on AO3!

Irondad Tag List: @phahbiyah @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @clevermuffinalmondpeach @stuck-in-a-fictional-universe @canonismybitch @freckledmountain @not-your-housekeeper98 @misskirkstark @iron-loyalty

Lemme know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!

“Misser Star’, there’s clouds i’ m’ mouth,” Peter mumbled around the cotton, staring at Tony with wide eyes. Tony laughed and pulled Peter’s hand away from his mouth, as he was trying to touch the “clouds”.

“Don’t mess with those, you need them to stop the bleeding,” Tony said with a small laugh.

“I’m bleeding!?” Peter said incredulously. Then he suddenly gasped and grabbed Tony’s arm, a panicked look on his face. “Do they know!?”

“Know what kid?” Peter looked around dramatically then yanked Tony’s arm closer so he could whisper in his ear.

“That I’m a spider,” he said. Tony snorted and gently worked his arm out of Peter’s death-grip.

“You’re good, kid. You’re at the compound, Helen was the one who operated on you. You remember Helen?”

“Karen?”

“No, Helen--”

“She’s my suit lady, she’s nice. But she can’t do tooth stuff Misser Star’--”

“No, kid, Helen was the one who did the work on your teeth, she’s a doctor--”

“I know who Helen is,” Peter said, as if Tony had told him this information several times before. Tony rolled his eyes and ruffled Peter’s hair, only to laugh when Peter raised his head and leaned into his touch, eyes slipping closed with bliss. He was like a little kitten, leaning into someone scratching behind its ear.

In fact he leaned so far he almost fell over, and Tony had to catch him by the shoulder, snorting at the panicked look on Peter’s face.

“Jesus, Dr. Cho gave you the Good Stuff didn’t she?”

“Had to, it was the only thing his metabolism wouldn’t immediately burn through,” Helen said, making Tony jump. “You two are alright to leave now, just make sure Peter doesn’t take that cotton out too early and give him some ice when the medicine wears off.”

“Thanks Doc,” Tony said. Peter made a noise of confusion and pointed at Helen.

“She’s not Doc Ock, Misser Star’! He has way more arms, and she’s way prettier,” Peter said. “I think you need new glasses.”

“I don’t even need glasses in the first place, kiddo,” Tony said with a snort, signing a couple papers Helen handed him.

“Oh yeah!? Then what are those!?” Peter said, pointing directly at the square sunglasses perched on Tony’s nose. Tony raised his eyebrows at him, the determined look on Peter’s face making it hard not to laugh.

“Sunglasses, not normal glasses,” Tony said, then he held out his arm. “Here lemme walk you back to the living quarters, I’m fairly certain you’re not gonna make it there yourself.”

“Why does the sun even need glasses?” Peter muttered as he pushed himself off the hospital bed, and almost immediately toppling over.

“Woah there Sea Legs,” Tony said, catching him under the arms and setting him up straight. “Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself.”

“The sea is in my legs,” Peter said, clinging tight to Tony’s arm as he wobbled slightly. “What if my legs… were in the sea?”

“Oh wow--this is going to be fun,” Tony said, steadying Peter as he stumbled down the hallway to the elevator.

Peter babbled on and on about random stuff on their way to the living quarters, Tony having to physically restrain him from pressing all the buttons in the elevator, and had to answer his questions about extremely odd yet mundane things like “why is the ceiling in the sky?” only for him to forget what he asked entirely.

When they finally arrived, Tony walked him to the couch and sat him down, and Peter immediately curled himself into a ball, knees tucked under his chin.

“Alright kid, you wait here while I call your Aunt and let her know everything went good, alright?” Tony said.

“Wait here,” Peter repeated, with a determined nod. “Waiting waiting waiting. Like a rock.”

At this point Tony had absolutely no clue what Peter was talking about so he just said “Sure, kiddo”, and ruffled his hair before he stepped away for a few minutes.

“Hey, Tony,” May said when she answered. “How’s he doin’?”

“He’s alright, pretty damn loopy but fine,” Tony said, leaning against the wall of the hallway. “I’m glad you came to me about this, I was right, a normal anaesthetic wouldn’t have stood a chance against his enhanced metabolism.”

May chuckled and Tony could hear the bustle of the hospital in the background.

“I don’t know what we’d do without you Tony,” she said. “Thank you so much--Oh, shoot, I gotta go--”

“No problem, May, I’ll take care of him till you get off work. Just call me when you’re done, I’ll drive him over,” Tony said. May thanked him at least ten times before hanging up, and Tony chuckled to himself, slipping the phone in his pocket.

“Misser Staaaaaaar’?” Peter’s voice said from around the corner. It had a rather guilty tone to it, and Tony quickly rounded the corner to see him.

Peter seemed to have tried to grab a blanket, and in the process, had gotten himself rather tangled in it, now lying horizontally on the couch and staring up at Tony with a wide-eyed expression.

“Got tangled in your own web, huh Spiderling?” Tony said, smiling down at him. “Probably for your own good anyway. Might just leave you like that so you don’t get yourself in more trouble.”

Peter frowned indignantly at him, and suddenly started trying to wiggle himself into an upright position, since clearly Tony was just gonna leave him to die like this. Tony rolled his eyes and helped him sit up, but as soon as he tried to get him untangled, Peter leaned away, looking confused.

“What?” Tony said.

“I’m a burrito Misser Star’,” Peter mumbled, snuggling himself further into the blanket. “Spider-Burrito. Or Spider-Sushi. Or Spider-Ravioli. Or--”

“Spiders In A Blanket?” Tony suggested, and Peter’s eyes got wide.

“Oh my god--I’m a spider, and I’m in a blanket!” Peter whisper-screamed. Then he burst into laughter, throwing his head back against the soft cushions of the couch so fast Tony thought he might give himself whiplash.

“Jesus--Just you existing scares me kiddo,” Tony muttered, deciding tv would probably be the best distraction. Just as long as it isn’t a comedy. Kid might break his neck, Tony thought. It’s a good thing Luke Skywalker isn’t played by Jim Carrey.

Peter stopped laughing immediately as the Star Wars theme began to play, though his loud, comical gasp proved it wasn’t just the medicine wearing off.

“I LOVE STAR WARS!” Peter shouted, making Tony jump.

“Jesus christ--I know ya dork,” Tony said, watching Peter bounce excitedly in his seat on the couch for a moment before sitting next to him. Peter flumped into Tony’s side, giving a deep, dramatic sigh of contentment. Tony couldn’t help but give him a little one-armed squeeze; he knew how much Peter loved hugs.

Though he couldn’t expect Peter to be silent for more than a few minutes, now could he?

“Hey Misser Star’?” Peter said.

“Hey Misser Parker?” Tony said, imitating Peter’s tone and voice.

“What if I was hungry?” he said, either ignoring or completely oblivious to Tony’s teasing.

“Um, I would get you something to eat? I think there’s some soup I could warm up for you,” Tony said, looking down at Peter with raised eyebrows. Peter looked skeptical at the idea of soup however.

“Mmm, but what if I’m only hungry for something cold?” he said.

“Uh… you want a smoothie?”

“Something sweet and cold.”

“Smoothies can be sweet.”

“Something chocolate and sweet and cold,” Peter said impatiently. Tony rolled his eyes and looked down at Peter, who put on a very mischievous grin. He sighed in defeat. He just couldn’t say no to that silly face.

“Your Aunt’s gonna kill me when she finds out,” Tony said, getting up with a groan.

“No she won’t! I’ll protect you! I’m Spider-Man!” Peter said, trying to take his hands out of his cocoon/burrito, but only succeeding in tangling himself more. Tony snorted, dragging a tub of chocolate ice cream out of the freezer and scooping some out into a couple bowls. By the time he came back Peter had freed his arms and was rubbing his hands over the fluffy blanket, muttering to himself. Tony helped him take the gauze out of his mouth, which had a surprisingly small amount of blood on it, as it seems his enhanced healing had taken care of it.

Peter ate his ice cream happily, eyes closing with bliss.

“Ice cream is my best friend,” Peter said around his spoon. “‘Cept for Ned. And MJ. They’re better than ice cream, but ice cream is like… real good friendo. Ten outta ten, would go to the movies with ice cream.”

“Ha, me too kid,” Tony said, scraping the last remnants out before setting aside his bowl to focus better on the movie. He never cared much for Star Wars, but he couldn’t deny that the fight scenes were pretty awesome. Peter eventually nudged him with his bowl to say he was finished, and then went back to his original position against Tony’s side.

It wasn’t until the movie was over that Tony realized Peter had fallen asleep like that, curled up tightly in the blanket, his face pressed into Tony’s chest. Tony ran his fingers through Peter’s hair for a moment, smiling as Peter relaxed even further against him.

“You caught all that, right Fri?” Tony said, glancing up at the ceiling.

“Of course Boss,” Friday replied. “Shall I send you the file for you to view later?”

“That’d be perfect. If there’s anything that’ll be more hilarious than Peter getting stuck in a blanket, it’ll be how red his face gets when he sees himself getting stuck in a blanket.”

Peter didn’t even wake up as Tony lifted him off the couch and down the hall to his room. He whined a little when Tony laid him on his bed, but was quickly consoled by Tony’s fingers running through his hair again.

“Goodnight ‘Spider-Burrito.’”

#irondad #irondad fanfiction #peter parker #tony stark #marvel #spider-man #Iron Man #the friendly neighborhood exchange #Marko's Fanfiction

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years

Text

Lost At Sea (But I Am Home) [Part 1]

Dean x Reader

Word Count: ~4600

Warnings: Smut (vanilla, but explicit) and Dean emotions.

A/N: This came from a request by MJ on the occasion of her birthday. It was supposed to be done, like, months ago, but there was much loss of sleep, tearing out of hair, rending of garments, wailing, etc. before it came together. I hope it’s worth the wait. I missed these two.

This is not a coda, exactly, and not a sequel, exactly, to Marked. It’s a fic of its own, but you might want to read that first. There will be two more parts to this.

Big thanks to @thoughtslikeaminefield @fangirlxwritesx67 @justcallmeasmodeus @mskathywriteswords @itmighthavebeenintentional @fookinghelljensensthighs and all the rest of the gay screaming crew for your brainstorming, reading, and inspiration help. Y’all are the best.

We show great loyalty to the hard times we've been through. We are filled with riches and wonders. Our love keeps the things it finds, and we dance like drunken sailors, lost at sea, out of our minds. You find shelter somewhere in me, I find great comfort in you. And I keep you safe from harm. You hold me in your arms. And I want to go home, but I am home.

“Riches and Wonders,” The Mountain Goats

Dean used to think that love might feel like safety.

When he pictured a relationship, a family, a partner, he used to picture apple pies and picket fences. Love, in his mind, was always tied to comfort, PB&J with the crusts cut off, security, and all the other things he knew he’d never have again. The person he is, the things he does… he wasn’t meant for that soft kind of love.

Dean’s gotten so used to hiding his softness behind sharp edges and impenetrable walls that sometimes he forgets it’s still there. The sort of woman he once thought he could love would be shredded to pieces before she could get close to it.

Then he met her.

When he tries to talk about it, tries to describe the way she makes him feel, he ends up stuttering and stumbling over the words, because it’s nothing like a quiet house on a suburban street. It’s not safety that he feels when he looks at her; it’s nothing so simple as that. She makes him feel about as safe as a fucking hurricane, except that when the wind is howling around them, when rain is falling and the churned-up waves are rising, Dean looks at her and knows, with absolute certainty, that in spite of the storm raging around them and within them and between them, they’re going to be okay.

So, yeah, Dean was wrong about love. He’s starting to realize that he was wrong about a lot of things.

Dean storms into the kitchen and almost rips off the cabinet door in his haste to get a glass, and he doesn’t notice Cas sitting at the table until he’s slamming the whiskey bottle down on the counter and going for the first gulp.

Cas just raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that,” Dean grumbles. He knocks back the rest of the glass and pours another before sitting down across from Cas, slumping in his chair and glaring down at the pitted surface of the table like it’s done him some personal wrong.

“You had an argument,” Cas says, gravelly and implacable.

“You listening in?”

“It wasn’t a conscious effort. More like an unfortunate inevitability.”

Dean winces. “Guess we were a little loud at the end there.”

“Yes.”

Cas doesn’t ask. He just sits there, drinking his tea. Dean really didn’t intend to spill his guts, but fuck, his thoughts are rattling around in his skull, too loud to hold in.

“When something’s wrong, you’re supposed to fix it,” Dean blurts out. “Right?”

“What sort of thing are we talking about here?”

“Just… she was pissy all day. Fuckin’ quiet, and trying to avoid me, and… fuck, I don’t know, I just kinda snapped eventually. Mighta lost it on her a bit. And she was having one of those days, I guess. Had a nightmare last night.”

“And… you apologized?”

“Well, yeah. She just wasn’t having it, said she needed space to sort through it on her own. ”

“And that bothers you.”

“Fuckin’... yeah. Because if she’s mad at me, I’m the one who’s gotta fix it, right? I’ve gotta take care of it, I’ve gotta make things right, and she just won’t fuckin’ let me. How the fuck am I supposed to make her feel better if she won’t let me?”

“Did you ask her that?”

“Well, yeah. She said it wasn’t anything I could fix, it was just… something she had to deal with. Went to work, wouldn’t let me drive her. The fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

Cas gives him a look like he’s being the densest motherfucker on the planet.

Dean scowls down at his glass and takes another sip, trying to sort through the tangle of his emotions. His insides are a mess, disorderly and beyond his control, and it’s infuriating.

“I wish I could fuckin’ do something,” he says softly, swallowing around the knot in his throat. “I want to just… take care of it for her. Make it better.”

“Even though she said you couldn’t,” Cas prods.

Dean shrugs helplessly. “If she’d just let me,” he says feebly, all too aware that he sounds petulant and whiny.

Cas rolls his eyes.

“Fuck off, Cas. She’s just… out there. Walkin’ around without me, and I don’t know what she’s thinking, and there’s nothing I can do.”

“What exactly are you afraid of?”

Dean bristles. He opens his mouth, closes it again, and then takes a sip of whiskey to cover his confusion.

“I just don’t like it,” he admits gruffly. “Not being able to do anything.”

“Did she say she’d be home later?”

“Yeah. After work.”

“You know that she loves you.”

“Fuckin’... yeah, Cas, Jesus.”

“You believe this is something you’ll work through?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, without hesitation, almost surprised by how much he believes it.

“You trust her. You know she can take care of herself.”

“Yes. What… what’s your point?”

“My point is that she is a grown woman, a remarkably capable and strong one at that, and there are going to be moments when she does not want you to fix her, or take care of her, or make things right for her. Clinging to the illusion of control is only going to make things worse.”

Dean feels like a fish, opening and closing his mouth stupidly. Part of him wants to get angry; it would be easier than dealing with the uncomfortable ache in his chest. He knuckles at his eyes and takes another drink.

“Fuck, Cas, don’t sugarcoat it or anything,” he mumbles. “Should never’ve introduced you guys.”

“I’d say I’m sorry, but…” Cas shrugs.

Dean makes a face at him. There are a few minutes of comfortable silence as he listens to the ever-present background whisper of the air circulating through the bunker, like the lungs of some gigantic underground beast, and to the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat.

“I miss her,” he says hollowly.

Cas gives him a wry little half-smile. “I believe they call this personal growth.”

Dean scowls. “Don’t patronize.”

“You weren’t the one slamming the door behind you. You admitted you wanted her to stay. That’s new, for you. Growth.”

If Cas wasn’t so fucking right, Dean would probably hate him right now. As it is, he has all too many memories of walking out on Cas, or shoving him toward the door… it’s either cry or laugh, at this point, so Dean digs the heels of his hands into his eyes and huffs out a laugh.

“Shove it up your feathered ass. You gonna have a drink with me, or what?”

Years ago (probably before he was technically old enough to be meeting girls in bars) Dean met a girl — Sasha? Sandra? — in a bar. He doesn’t remember her name, but he remembers the freckles on her pale shoulders and the long corkscrew curls that framed her face when she lay down, like a tangled halo on the pillow.

After, as they caught their breath, Dean played with her hair, twisting one curl around his finger and releasing it again, fascinated by the way it bounced back into its spiral. He remembers putting his arms around her and telling her she was beautiful, and he remembers that she looked away, eyes suddenly shuttered.

“It’s okay,” she said softly, and started looking for her shirt. “You don’t have to pretend it means anything. That was fun.”

He learned quickly, from her and from others, what was expected of him. They wanted him to be confident, if not cocky; strong, but not too rough; kind, but not exactly sweet… they wanted him to be charming, and fun, and not much more than that. Above all, they wanted him to leave.

He learned. Leaving became second nature. Leaving was better than waiting around for the inevitable day that they would leave.

Women didn’t want tenderness or romance, at least not from him. Maybe they wanted those things from someone who might stick around, but Dean would never be that guy. Dean might be the thrilling story they told their friends the next day, a fondly scandalous memory, just dangerous enough to feel like an adventure: I can’t believe I did that.

He learned to take what he could get. He learned to separate the emotional from the physical. He learned to hold back, to tell stories without showing the scars they’d left, to share tiny slices of the truth without ever really revealing the messy whole. He learned to wall off his soft, vulnerable places. Nobody wanted to see those.

It was easy to put those walls up, even easier to hide behind them. Dean started to think he was safe there. He thought his carefully constructed fortress was stronger than any storm. Then she happened.

She keeps proving him wrong. Dean’s getting used to it.

She still hasn’t gotten home yet, by the time Dean bids a bleary-eyed goodnight to Cas. She had the late shift, and he knows that, but his stomach is jittering cold under the blanket of whiskey heat, and he doesn’t expect sleep to come easy.

He hears the echo of Cas’s voice as he tumbles into bed: you know that she loves you.

He falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

When he wakes up in the middle of the night, there’s wet heat and suction enveloping his cock, and he’s thrusting up into her mouth helplessly, rock-hard, gasping her name into the darkness before he’s fully conscious. Dean’s caught in the limbo between waking and sleeping, trying to separate reality from his dreams, but this feels too good to be a dream. Dean’s never dreamed anything this good.

She’s rubbing her thumb along the cut of his hipbone, stroking sweetly even as her tongue does something that should probably be illegal. He reaches down and grabs her hand, lacing their fingers together, and she lets out a low, pornographic moan, her throat vibrating around the head of his cock.

“C’mere,” Dean pleads, hoarse and sleep-slurred. She pulls off with an obscene slurping sound and crawls up his body. She must’ve taken off her jeans before she got in bed, but she’s still wearing her shirt and underwear, and Dean’s pretty sure he hears something rip as he wrestles with the fabric. If the harsh way she’s panting is any indication, she doesn’t care either.

“I’m sorry,” she says fiercely.

“Missed you,” he whispers. His voice sounds broken, pathetic, but it doesn’t matter; she’s here, warm and soft in his arms as they fumble in the darkness.

She’s finally naked, straddling him, and Dean reaches for her blindly, pulling her down for a kiss that’s more of a clash of teeth when they both misjudge the angle. Dean wraps an arm around her lower back and crushes her to his body, fisting the other hand in her hair, holding on for dear life as they exchange deep, bruising, biting kisses. She clings right back, fingers stroking his jaw and his neck like she’s trying to read the Braille of his skin and bones.

Dean’s breathless by the time she breaks the kiss to wriggle back and line up. His eyes have adjusted enough that he can see the faint silhouette of her body, charcoal against jet-black, but the important thing is the way she feels, like solid ground or safe harbor in a storm.

He thrusts up helplessly, stuttering out a nonsense string of vowel sounds as she takes him in all at once, slick and welcoming. Dean’s spine bows with the way it drags pleasure from every part of his body, wrenching and twisting through him, winding him tight. She leans in and rests her forehead against his, so close they’re breathing the same air. Dean digs his fingers into her hips and feels the way she flutters around him, smooth silky wet skin, living heat, pulsing like a heartbeat as his body answers with its own heavy thud of arousal.

“You came home,” he chokes out.

“Of course I did,” she says.

She rocks her hips and Dean surges up to meet her, grinding in deep, pulling her down against him. He’s closer to her than he’s ever been to another person, and it’s never close enough.

Home.

Dean considers himself a giver, when it comes to sex.

It’s always been a point of pride: no matter how casual it was, no matter how easy it was to walk out the door afterward, he put his partner first. Not like it was a fucking chore, anyway. He’s heard stories, heard the way women talked about other men, and it genuinely confuses him sometimes; those men have no idea what they’re missing.

It’s not often, in his line of work, that he gets to make people just feel good. He hasn’t brought anything positive into the lives of most people he’s met; he’s brought danger, and bloodshed, and nightmarish fucking violence. Those rare moments when Dean can bring someone pleasure, instead, have always felt like a gift.

He remembers the first time he figured it out, the way the girl (Jenny? Jessie?) sounded when he found the right spot, the face she made, the way she twitched around his fingers, and he remembers the awed, wonder-struck glow in his chest. He remembers thinking, I did that. It was satisfying in a way that had nothing to do with his own orgasm.

Getting off is great and all, but Dean’s never cared too much about comfort or pleasure. He takes a utilitarian approach to the basic needs of his own body, whether it’s sex, food, sleep, or whatever else. He’s always been fine with his hand, a burger, and four hours of shuteye on a crappy motel bed. He’s never asked for much more than that.

Watching someone else enjoy themselves, though? That’s worth taking his time, doing it right, appreciating every moan and every spasm of pleasure that flickers over her features. It’s not so much about what he wants. It’s about what he has to give.

Dean’s never been a morning person, but he’s starting to understand the appeal. It’s just them, in the morning, before they’ve had time to pull on the invisible armor they wear when they have to face the rest of the world. It’s a nakedness he never thought he was capable of.

He wakes half-sprawled across her, one arm over her chest and a leg hooked over her thigh, like he was worried about her escaping from him in dreams. His face is tucked into the side of her neck. He inhales deep, immersed in the smell of her shampoo and her sweat and her skin.

He traces the soft lines of her body, running a feather-light touch from the round of her shoulder, across her collarbone, down the center of her chest and then back up to map the curve of the underside of her breast. He rubs his thumb back and forth over her nipple, feeling the skin start to respond to his touch just as she sighs and stirs, and then he trails his fingers down to brush the inside of her thighs, down and up, one and then the other.

It’s not like he’s trying to tease, he just can’t stop touching her. He could spend eternity running his fingers over her smooth skin, dips and curves and hollows and swells like an entire landscape under his hands. He maps it all, awed, until she’s breathless and squirming.

In the end she just grabs his wrist and shoves it down, showing him exactly what she wants. She holds him there, cupping her hand over his, rocking up, hot and slick under their entangled fingers.

Dean waits until she’s trembling, straining, close.

“On your side?” he whispers, and kisses her cheek. He doesn’t pull his fingers away, just rolls with her and fits himself against her back. She arches, raises one knee, and she lets out this desperate throaty moan when he has to move his hand for a second to adjust, but then he sinks in and he can feel her shudder down to her toes.

He’s been so focused on her that he didn’t realize how hard he is, but he’s dizzy with it, suddenly, like every drop of blood is rushing to his dick and throbbing, his nerve endings on fire with the searing slippery friction of her body opening up for his. Jesus, he’s so close it should be fucking embarrassing.

She’s whimpering on every breath, clenching and dripping around him as she grinds into her hand. Dean reaches forward and slides his fingers under hers again, and he can feel the way she squeezes, muscles pulsing in waves of silky heat. He rolls his hips and she arches her back, biting out an anguished sound.

They’re barely moving, rocking against each other gracelessly without the leverage for more, just a push-pull-shove-tug that builds into something powerful and unavoidable. Dean can feel it pounding through him with every shallow thrust and every little groan. He’s losing control, swamped by the sensations, barely holding on.

Dean focuses on the way she feels under his fingers, the rhythm, pressing and circling, working her just the way she likes.

“Not yet,” she gasps, practically writhing in his arms. “Want to feel you.”

“So fuckin’ close, just -”

She hisses, grabbing his wrist in a steely-strong grip like a handcuff and forcing his hand away as she snaps, “Dean, come for me.”

He can’t help himself. It hits him immediately, sucks him under, sweeps him up and whirls him around, until all that’s left is how fucking good it feels: her sweaty skin against his, her soaked cunt squeezing him over and over again as she comes, wringing it out of him, and her fingers bruisingly tight, a bright spark of not-quite-pain around his wrist, as pleasure twists in his gut and spirals out and carries him away.

He’s dimly aware of the way she’s shaking, the sound of her voice, but it takes a conscious effort to understand the ragged words: “So good, Dean. So fucking incredible, feeling you fall apart for me.”

They’re both trembling. She loosens her grip on his wrist and brings his hand to her mouth, kissing the center of his palm and then every fingertip in turn. The sweat between them starts to tickle as it cools.

She turns in his arms, pulling back to look at Dean with a sparkling smile and a curious, level gaze. He can see the gears working behind her eyes, cogs clicking into place, but he can’t for the life of him figure out what she’s seeing as she stares. Then it clears, and she’s just beaming at him, giving him the same open, tender expression he sees every morning when they wake up together. He can see it all over her face, how much she loves him.

Dean’s not sure what he did to deserve that smile, but he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to earn it.

He’s heard it so many times: take care of your brother.

It wasn’t just Sam, though. It was always very clear to Dean that being a man, being strong, meant protecting others. It meant making the hard choices, putting on a brave face, shouldering the weight so that others didn’t have to… no matter how he felt, no matter how hard it was sometimes, his job was to take care of the people he loved.

He remembers smiling, hugging his mom, trying to make her smile again: It’s okay, Mom. Dad still loves you. I love you, too.

He remembers putting a hand on his dad’s shoulder, looking into bloodshot eyes: It’s okay, Dad. I’m really glad you’re home.

He remembers setting his jaw, holding his head high: Shoot first, ask questions later. Watch out for Sammy. He remembers that curt, military nod he got in return: That’s my man.

So that’s what Dean did. He protected people. When he loved someone, he did whatever it took to keep them safe. It was the foundation on which he built his entire life; it was the cornerstone of every structure, every wall, everything that held him up and held him together and kept him from falling apart.

You’re going to be okay, Sammy. I’ve got this. I’m okay. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got it all under control.

Then she happened. He couldn’t keep her safe from himself. He failed.

He tried to push her away, after. He tried to rebuild all those walls, for her sake, but she just knocked them down again. She demolished everything, right down to his crumbling foundations, and she loved him not in spite of what she saw in the wreckage, but because of it.

Dean has always believed that he isn’t a man, isn’t strong, isn’t worth loving, if he can’t protect the people around him. She claims he’s wrong. He was skeptical, at first, but she keeps coming home to him; it’s hard to argue with that. They’re building something new together, and it feels solid.

“Get your fucking moose hands off me, Sam, I’m fine,” Dean snarls. “Motherfucker, you’d think I never needed stitches before. Stop fussing.”

Sam lets go of his arm with a huff, and Dean sits down on the bed a little harder than he meant to.

“Welcome home,” she says flatly from the doorway.

“Maybe you’ll have better luck with him, I give up,” Sam growls. He shoulders past her, closing the door behind himself.

“It’s really not a big -”

“Lie the fuck down, you moron,” she snaps, eyes blazing. “Bad enough you have to go and get yourself half-torn to pieces. If you make things even worse because you’re too fucking stubborn to deal with basic first aid, I swear to god -”

She’s got that face on, the one that means it’s pointless to argue.

“Okay. Okay, see? Lying down. Jesus.”

Dean settles back against his pillows, trying to hide his wince as the movement sets off shooting pains down his side. She stands next to the bed, looking down at him, and her jaw is set as she takes in the big gash across his ribs and the swollen punctures in his shoulder, visible through the shredded, blood-stained remains of his shirts.

“We’re gonna have to take care of that,” she says briskly, but her voice is shaking. Dean can see the fear in her eyes, and guilt twists in his ribcage.

“I can deal with it,” he protests automatically. “It’s not a big deal, I’m fine, you don’t have to -”

“Dean,” she interrupts. “Don’t. It’s me.”

I’m fine, it’s not a big deal, I don’t need you. It’s the first line of defense, has been for as long as Dean can remember. In all those years, she’s the first person who really bothered to break through. She makes it look easy, too, like a tornado going through a crooked old fence.

Dean feels off-kilter and flayed bare, suddenly. Now that he’s not bothering to keep up appearances, he just feels raw inside, like the monster clawed something deeper than his skin.

She bustles around for a moment, gathering up bandages and antiseptic, and Dean’s throat feels too tight. He missed her. He always misses her, and now instead of letting him hold her, kiss her, touch her, she has to patch him up… and part of him is so pathetically grateful that he doesn’t have to do it himself, even though he knows that he could. He can take care of himself. He should be the one taking care of her.

He just wants to hold her. He wants to reassure them both that he’s still breathing, that he’s home, that he’s safe.

She comes back with scissors. She gently moves the ruined flannel aside and then snips up the front of the t-shirt, biting her lip intently and then scowling as she pulls the fabric away from his skin to reveal the livid bruises that are already blossoming across his chest.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he tries. His voice cracks on the last word, and her eyes snap up to meet his gaze. She opens her mouth to argue, pauses, frowns, then closes it again.

She’s studying him. Dean feels a prickle of embarrassment, cheeks flushing under the weight of her stare.

“What is it?” she asks softly.

He wants to say, just come here, hold me. He can’t seem to force the words past his lips.

Dean raises his less-injured shoulder in the barest suggestion of a shrug. It hurts. He rolls his eyes at himself and clenches his jaw. He can’t quite look at her.

She watches for another second, and then she sighs, putting the scissors down on the nightstand.

“Okay,” she whispers. “Can you sit up? At least help me get that off you.”

She slides into bed carefully, doing her best not to jostle him, and Dean sits up, gritting his teeth against the pain. She helps him ease the remains of both shirts off his shoulders and then tosses them aside. Dean settles back, fitting himself under her outstretched arm, shifting slightly onto his good side so that he can rest his cheek on her chest. He has to squeeze his eyes shut tight to ignore the way they’re burning.

“I’m really glad you’re home,” she says, hoarse and fervent. She brings her free arm up to cup her hand to his cheek, and her thumb brushes back and forth in a soothing, mindless rhythm.

Dean wants to apologize, wants to reassure her, wants to thank her… he fucking hates scaring her.

He wants to promise that he’ll never scare her again, but that would be a lie. He wants to ask why she bothers, but they’ve had that conversation one too many times before; Dean’s starting to accept that there’s nothing he can do or say to convince her that she’d be better off without him. She’s stubborn that way.

“I love you,” she says softly. “I got caught up. I’m sorry.”

Jesus, Dean can barely breathe.

He wants to ask, What did I do to deserve you? He wants to ask, How do you always know?

“Just for a minute,” he whispers.

“As long as you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s choking on all the things he wants to say, variations on thank you and I’m sorry and I love you.

He listens to her heartbeat, feels the rise and fall of her chest under his cheek, takes in the smell of her shampoo, and he reminds himself that he’s home.

It’s nothing like the home he used to dream of; he lives in a bunker, no fucking picket fence in sight. He’s bleeding from a half-dozen places, and no matter what he might think in the brief stretches of peace between apocalypses, he’s never really safe.

In this quiet moment, she could be mistaken for the soft sort of woman he used to imagine falling in love with, but she’s so much more than that. This tornado of a woman is sharp and tough and smart enough to break through every wall of bullshit he hides behind, and it’s terrifying, being exposed like that, but Dean wouldn’t have it any other way.

It’s not what he pictured, but this is home. This is love.

He doesn’t say anything. He has a feeling she’ll understand anyway; she always does.

Next part is here.

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mshermia · 3 years

Text

Not Fine - Webpril day 6: Scars

summary: Peter struggles to accept how different things between the Avengers are after the Un-Snapping. As much as everyone else seems to have moved on from what tore the group apart, Peter is not ready to forgive and forget.

read on AO3

Chapter 1

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Chapter 2

It was quiet for a Thursday afternoon. Even with the mid-November weather mild and sunny, there weren't many people out on the streets. Truth be told, that was exactly how Peter liked it. He had his hoodie pulled up shielding his face while he watched life go on from the rooftops of Queens.

He had been lying low for more than 3 months now. Sometimes, there were the small things that his senses picked up, helpful stuff he could do for people like a kid that lost his parents. Heavy grocery bags that had to be carried across the street. Anything he wouldn't need his suit for.

That, he wouldn't risk. Too many people knew his face now. Too many people could expose him and put May in danger. Ned and MJ. Maybe even Tony. No, Peter had to lay low. That had been one of the reasons why he had spent so much time upstate at Tony's new house. It removed the temptation. Out there in the woods in Tony's basement, his senses weren't tingling, calling for him to be more useful.

Well, that had worked well until two weeks ago. Until the event at the new Compound Tony had made him go to. He hadn't been able to hold back any longer. The senses he had been suppressing for months had been screaming at him to jump so he had.

If only, he had never gone to the stupid event.

He hadn't seen Tony in almost two weeks. Not since he had bolted. It had been stupid and impulsive but Peter hadn't been able to help it. He couldn't stay there with these people looking at him for another minute.

Goosebumps erupted on his arms. Frowning, he leaned a little forward-looking down into the street. Maybe it was just the memory of that day, of Rogers' hands on Tony that made his senses chime up.

No. When the hair on his neck stood up, there was no doubt. Slowly, he rose to his feet, tugging the sleeves of his hoodie a little further down to make sure that his web-shooters were well hidden.

"Hello, Peter."

He turned fast towards the voice. Rogers stood in the middle of the rooftop, right next to the stairway. Peter's pulse was throbbing in his ears. He was such a fool, should have never gone out without the suit.

Rogers' hands were in the air, his head inclined towards him. "I'm just here to talk..."

"I don't want to talk to you," Peter hissed.

"Yeah," he nodded. "And that's exactly why I think we should."

Peter had his arm still stretched out in Rogers' direction, trying to keep him away. "What's wrong with you?"

Roger's sighed, his shoulders slagging a little. "You don't have to be scared of me, Peter."

"Scared of you." He huffed out a dry laugh. "You think I'm scared of you? The last time we went toe-to-toe I was 14 and I almost beat you even then." He tried to keep his breathing in check, but his heart was racing. "I've only gotten stronger since then."

"I don't want to fight you." Rogers shook his head. "We're on the same team."

"No, we're not," Peter breathed.

His eyes narrowed, before his head moved up and down in a series of tiny nods, inching a little closer to where Peter was standing. "Right, because you're on Tony's team."

He didn't say it in a condescending tone, or any tone at all, really. Just a factual statement. Still, it spurred on Peter's irritation like a hot poker.

"I'll always be on Tony's team," he hissed.

Another step from Rogers had Peter retreat a little further toward the ledge behind him.

"That's my team too, Peter." As another show of surrender, Roger's arms were spread wide, the lines on his face deepening. "I understand how difficult it is to wake up and find things to be different from how they were before. Believe me, I'm the expert when it comes to that. But there's nothing anyone can do about that." Rogers tiled his head to the side, eyebrows knitted together in a display of concern. "Things are different. A lot happened while you were gone and we had to go through some deep shit together. I would never tell you not to look out for Tony. He's very lucky to have you in his corner, but we moved on. You can't be mad at him for that surely?"

"Moved on..." Peter shook his head. "That's really convenient for you, hm?"

Rogers' frown only deepened. "I think it's convenient for all of us, to be honest. We could only bring everyone back together. We could defeat Thanos only together, as a team. Mistakes were made. We know now what it took to win."

"Yeah," Peter huffed out a laugh. "I wonder how many of us didn't already know that before."

His shoulders pulled back, standing a little taller, Rogers studied him. "What do you want me to do, Peter? Do you want to have it out? Punch me in the face to get it out of your system?"

His heart gave a painful squeeze at the notion. At the very idea of his fist connecting with the sharp lines of Rogers' face. "I'm not gonna punch you," Peter growled, his breathing heavy.

"Then what? What can I do that will be enough?"

Peter's breathing hitched. He took another step back, even closer to the edge of the building.

Nothing.

He hadn't realized it until now, but there truly was nothing Rogers could do for Peter to ever trust him. He made his priorities clear, what was important to him. Who he would protect when push came to shove and Mr. Stark hadn't been good enough for him. How would Peter ever be?

"Peter, wait—"

Before Rogers could grab him, Peter had taken the last step, falling - maybe a little further than he should have. Reveling in the rush before he engaged the web-shooters and got the hell out of there.

The Compound still gave Tony the creeps. I just looked so similar, basically the same as it had a few months ago. Almost like nothing had happened at all, no battle, no Thanos. Inside, things got even weirder. It was eerie to walk through the hallways and see them bustling with life. Not like it had before the un-Snapping or even the initial Snap. No, there was so much going on, Tony could easily pretend that it was still 2015 as people walked by and greeted him on his way to his lab.

The lab. Not his anymore. Bruce's in fact.

"Ah, there's the doc that I've been looking for," Tony called out as he stepped into the room.

"Tony! Hello, hi! Come on in..." Bruce waved him over, then shook his head. "Not like you need an invitation of course. I mean it's your lab and all, always will be. Thank you again for the opportunity—"

"At easy, buddy." Tony held up his arms to stop him. "I'm just here to help. I have a PO box for fan mail."

Bruce laughed and waved him closer to the workbench. Working with Bruce had always come easy to him. They understood each other on a level that was different from the other Avengers. From anyone really except the kid. Tony pressed his eyes shut for a moment before he blinked, trying to focus on the piece of hardware in his hands again.

Peter had been avoiding him for almost two weeks now. It was the longest Tony had gone without seeing him since they had brought everyone back. It brought up memories that Tony didn't particularly want to remember.

He had screwed up. He should have listened. Peter had been absolutely clear that he hadn't wanted to go.

This could have all be avoided if he would have just paid better attention. Now, the shit had hit the fan and Tony didn't even know where to begin to smooth things over. The panic on Peter's face, that had been too real.

He should have paid more attention.

"Sir, Captain Rogers is here to see you."

Tony hissed a painful curse through his teeth after his hand slipped and he hit his knuckles on the edge of the workbench.

Bruce, who had ignored his mishap, simply blinked up toward the ceiling. "So, FRIDAY's back?"

His knuckles pressed against his lips, Tony cringed. "Just for today's field trip. Let him in, FRI."

Rogers had his eyebrows raised as he walked up to them. "So, FRIDAY's back?"

Refusing the urge to roll his eyes up at her, Tony dropped his hand. "You know how cranky I get without an assistant."

"Yeah, about that. Listen..." Rogers' face was uncharacteristically unreadable. "I went to see Peter yesterday."

"You went—" Tony almost swallowed his tongue. "You did what?"

Rogers tilted his head at him like Tony was the one being unreasonable. "I went to see him because I thought if we just talked—"

"Jeezes, Rogers. Didn't I specifically tell you to stay out of it?"

"And how am I supposed to do that? I'm supposed to be in charge of this team. How can I do that if we can't—"

"I told you!" Tony pointed towards the lawn outside the building. "We stood right out there and I told you that the kid needs space. That he needs time. That I needed you to back off!"

"Yeah, well that's what I gave you once before," Rogers hissed back. "I gave you all the space you wanted. I'm not making that mistake again."

"Oh please, that's hardly the same, Steve. It's been two weeks not--"

"We're vulnerable as a team, Tony." Steve's shoulders sagged with a sigh. "Listen, I understand, okay. Peter's yours, but he's also Spider-Man. He's also going to be an Avenger, but--"

"Excuse me," Tony crossed his arms. "Going to be? Do I have to re-tell the story where the kid fought Thanos on--"

"No." Steve held a hand out to stop him. "I'm not trying to diminish his bravery and his sacrifice. But if he wants to be part of this team, we need to come to an understanding."

Tony gnawed on the inside of his lip. Unfortunately, the Capsicle had a point. Their feud had already cost them enough. It was over with. They had needed to move on to win, to bring everyone back and they couldn't fall back into old patterns now.

"Maybe you were right that he needed some space from me," Rogers admitted begrudgingly. "But then you need to go and talk to him. He trusts you, Tony."

His face scrunched up, Tony's eyes shot over at Bruce.

"It's fine, Tony." Bruce waved him off. "I understand you want to take care of your kid. You do that. I'll just be here, okay? When you got some time?"

He grimaced apologetically. "I'll be back when I can."

With a short nod at Rogers, Tony walked out of the lab. He had a trip to the city to make.

When he showed up in Queens, May let him into the apartment. The kid wasn't home.

"He's been out a lot. I mean, after the... you know." She sighed. "I do think that getting back to his old routine, that's good for him. Getting back out there and feeling useful."

"Right," Tony breathed.

Peter hadn't spent as much as a minute out there in the suit. Not since the last battle. But that wasn't something May needed to worry about, not yet.

"I'm off to work in like 10 minutes, but you're welcome to wait for him," May said while she was collecting things like her phone, keys, and glasses from different places around the apartment.

"I would actually," Tony said. "If you don't mind."

"Not at all," she waved off the idea that it could bother her. "Just help yourself to whatever you find edible in the kitchen."

"I'm good, May. Thanks."

She was cheerful enough when she left and Tony did his best to plaster a smile on his face so she wouldn't get suspicious. If May still thought that Peter went out there in the suit, he hadn't shared whatever was bothering him and Tony wouldn't risk maneuvering himself even further on the kid's bad side by setting May onto his trail.

Instead, he got himself a few cookies from the kitchen, a glass of water and made his way to Peter's room. The great thing about retirement, he had all the time in the world to just sit this one out. Even if the kid somehow sensed that Tony was waiting for him, he wouldn't stay out all night. The nights were getting a little chilly for that and Tony knew for a fact that Peter still wasn't wearing his suit when he went out there.

Turned out, Peter didn't sense him. In fact, he almost doubled over in surprise when Tony spoke up as Peter was sliding the window to his room shut.

"Little late to be out there without your parachute."

"Fuck's sake..." One of his hands was stretched out toward Tony, the web-shooter armed and ready. The other was clutching his heart after he had recognized Tony just before he had fired his first web. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"

"Er, I did knock," Tony pointed out. "In fact, that's the very strategy I used to get in here."

Peter scrunched up his nose before he pulled his hoodie over his head and flung it onto the bed. "May let you in?"

"Yeah, you know if you want to strategically avoid me, you should at least clue her in enough not to let me through the door like that."

"I'm not strategically avoiding you." The top of Peter's ears were pink, so were his cheeks, either from the cold or from the bold-faced lie he just told. Maybe a little bit of both.

"I heard you had another visitor."

The kid's arms were crossed tightly across his chest where he stood across the room as far away from Tony as possible. "What's it to you?"

"What's it to me?" Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Okay, time out. Could you at least fill me in at what point of all of this I became the bad guy?"

Peter blew out a long breath, eyes on the floor. "You're not the bad guy."

"Really? Cause I could have sworn that you didn't just avoid seeing my face you also dodged my calls and didn't respond to my txts for the past two weeks."

Peter groaned."It's not about you, okay?"

"No." Tony blew out a sigh. "It's about Rogers."

Arms still tightly held in front of his body, Peter leaned against the wall. He was doing what he could to avoid Tony's eyes but there was nothing he could do to hide the truth written so clearly on his face.

"Pete, you know I love you for your spirit, but..." Tony pursed his lips, watching as the kid hid away from him with every passing word. "It's time to just let this go."

The words shot out of him like he had been waiting to say it for two weeks straight. "Well, I don't want to let this go."

"Pete...."

"No. No, I'm not okay with this." He pointed towards the window like he was pointing to the bunker in Siberia. "He left you to die!"

"Buddy, that was 7 years ago... I moved on. I had to."

"I don't care if it was 70 years ago!" His voice was shaking with emotion. "He was okay with you dying out there."

Tony blew out a breath, trying to reign in his own emotions. "Pete, I think you're being a little dramatic."

"Yeah? Dramatic?" Peter huffed out a humorless laugh. "Well, why don't you take off your shirt and say that again?"

Tony's mouth popped open in shock. "Wh-what?"

He pointed at him, his eyes glassy. "I've seen the scars, Tony."

Slowly, Tony's hand rose to his chest, clasping onto the fabric of his shirt. He had been so careful. He had always been careful to keep those hidden for almost a decade now.

Peter's face was red with fury. "You think I could ever trust anyone who did that to you?"

"But..." Tony shook his head, letting go of his shirt like it was burning metal. "Steve didn't do that."

Like someone had turned up the thermostat, the color on Peter's face deepened. "Why are you lying for him?"

"I'm not, I..." Going for the worst course of action, Tony pulled up his shirt. "You mean these?"

Peter backed up a few steps, eyes wide, a couple of tears falling from his lashes onto his own shirt while he refused to blink.

"Jeezes, kid..." Tony dropped the hem of the shirt and ran the hand that had been holding it up over his face instead. "Rogers didn't do that. It's from the arc. When... when I had them take it out."

"But, no..." Peter's eyes were still fixed on the spot of his chest, now covered by his shirt again. "No, I saw the suit," he mumbled. "I saw it. He... he struck you right there. Right on your chest where..." Peter's hand shot up, covering his mouth, as he spun away.

With a few hurried steps, Tony was across the room. Clasping Peter by the shoulders, he turned him back around, back towards him. It was all the kid needed to latch onto him, his arms tightly wrapped around him, like he had to make sure that Tony was still there.

"I'm fine now, buddy. It..." Tony pressed his eyes shut. Rogers sure had left a few scars on him but Tomy had been through worse than that. "It was a shit time and... and I should have never gotten you involved in that mess. It wasn't fair to you."

Peter shook his head. "Stop saying that it's your fault. It's not your fault."

"Shh, it's okay." He held him closely pressed against his chest like that would wipe away the memories, all of this was bringing up.

It had been a shit time after Siberia. He had been hurt, his body bruised but not as badly as his soul. Still, it was nothing compared to the pain that the friction in the team had cost him.

"I get that this is hard for you, buddy. Believe me, I get that. That pain you're holding onto." Tony swallowed hard, holding onto the kid a little tighter. "The thing is, I had to let it go because if I hadn't, you wouldn't be here. I had to trust him to help me bring you back and without him, you wouldn't be here right now."

Peter shook his head against Tony's chest, but only a stifled sob bubbled out of him.

"Maybe, if I hadn't held onto all that bullshit for so long, I would have never lost you in the first place." Tony blew out a breath and let go of Peter just enough to look into his red-rimmed eyes. "If you want to be an Avenger, then you need to move past this. You don't have to like it, but you'll have to work with them."

"How? What if... they all know who I am. They all know May, where I live. What if they tell people? What if--"

"Then we'll deal with it when the time comes."

Peter shook his head, eyes still swimming with tears. "I can't... I can't do it. I'll never trust him."

"Okay..." Tony swallowed hard. "Okay, then... well, you trust me though, right?"

Peter gave him a look like he was being insulting.

"So, if I came back to the team—"

"What? No..."

Tony shook his head. "If I came out of retirement, then you could trust me. Trust that I'll keep you safe. That someone on the team has you back."

Peter's hands had been clinging to his shirt, but he let go now. "No, Tony, I don't want that."

"Well, I don't really see any other option. You're unhappy with the situation. So I'm rectifying the situation."

Peter pushed himself away from him. "Fine," he snapped. "I got it, okay? I'll make it work."

"Buddy..."

"No, you don't have to blackmail me." He stalked away, out of the room towards the kitchen. "I get it. I'll... I'll move on. Work... work past this."

Tony was right on his heels. "Okay, stop. Come back here."

His back turned to Tony, Peter pulled open the fridge, staring into it like the solution to all his problems might be hidden between the butter and the cheese slices.

"Pete, I need you to be safe on the team, but I also need the team to be strong so all of us will stay safe."

"I get it, okay?" He slammed the fridge shut but didn't turn around, now staring at the pictures pinned on the outside of it. "I'll make it work."

"Can you maybe look at me?"

With a huff, Peter turned to face him, his eyes still red. "You're not coming out of retirement."

"Okay then." Tony frowned at him. He wouldn't deny that it had been a threat, but it hadn't been an empty one. He'd do what would be necessary to keep his family safe. Peter included. "I'll reserve the option to change my mind if you're struggling."

"I won't be."

Tony pointed a finger at him. "Not telling me about how much of a struggle it is for you is not an option."

Peter snorted. He turned his head away, the corners of his mouth twitching with some resemblance of humor.

"Sometimes I hate you, you know that?"

Eyes still on his kid, Tony studied him. "I wouldn't be doing a great job with all the mentoring if that wasn't true."

Peter shook his head, his smile growing a little wider until he swallowed hard. The smile disappeared and he was looking directly at Tony. "I hate this. I hate what they did. Rogers. All of them. I'll never forgive them."

In acknowledgment, Tony inclined his head in a soft nod. "That's not what I'm asking, bud. This isn't about forgiveness."

"Right. We're just..." He blinked a few times, eyes squinting to the side. "We're just moving on."

"Not 'just'..." Tony shook his head. "I'm not asking you to just flip a switch, Pete."

"Right," he breathed, looking back and forth between Tony and the wall, teeth gnawing on his lower lip like he was actually considering this at last.

"We'll just take it one day at a time," Tony offered. "I'll still be here for you."

"Here but just..." Peter hesitated, eying him suspiciously. "...just not too close to the action."

"As close to the action as you need me to be."

Peter dropped his arms to his side, no humor in his expression whatsoever. "Where I need you is back in the woods."

"Alright." Tony held up his hands in defeat. "As long as you know that I'm still here for you."

"I do. I know." He shuffled back and for on his feet. "It's okay. I can do it. I think. Move on."

His eyes were still red, the tears not quite dried on his cheeks. But as Tony studied him, there was honesty on his face, a true intention to try.

He narrowed his eyes on him, ready to test that newfound commitment. "We could start by moving on to the Compound right now? Where Bruce is waiting for some help with his nanotech project?"

"Nanotech at the Compound?" Peter scrunched up his nose. "Only if there's dinner."

Tony clutched his heart in affronted shock. "When did I ever not feed you?" He dropped his arms and waved Peter a little closer. "Come here, buddy."

Peter didn't hesitate. He stepped into Tony's arms, clinging to him tightly.

No... Tony pressed his eyes shut. Maybe the scars ran too deep for there to ever be true forgiveness. But that didn't mean they couldn't move on.

###

Thanks for reading :)

#spiderman #webpril 2021 day 6 #webpril #scars #tony stark #peter parker fic #irondad fic #IRON DAD AND SPIDER SON #iron dad #webpril 2021 #steve rogers #bruce banner

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