#but you still did break my heart with that whole Mr Tinker thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hiddlesbummmm · 3 years

Text

I decided to try a new style of writing, so I didn’t do a Reader insert this time. I also noticed we are lacking Loki and Peter content, so I thought I would help fix that a little 💓

Warnings: SFW Tickle Fic

Words: 1662 Ler Loki X Lee Peter

Stickiest of Situations

Peter was ecstatic. He had been working on this project for weeks now. So many sleepless nights welding and grinding in Tony’s lab making sure every piece of his new web shooter was smooth and sleek. Tony decided that it was a good learning experience for Peter to build and tinker with things, so he gave him full use of his lab anytime he needed it.

Peter’s hard work had finally paid off. Now, all he needed was to break it in a little bit.

Most of the team was off on a mission today, so it was the perfect day to run around and shoot things like a mad man. He needed to be able to run, swing, and jump without risking hitting anyone. His weeks of hard work led him to believe he had created his strongest and most durable web fluid yet. He had to test this out.

About an hour later, Peter’s obstacle course was set up and ready to go. He had moved couches into random spots throughout the compound. He grabbed his freshly made web-shooters, strapped them into his wrist, and filled it to the brim with his new fluid. He was planning on testing his new invention for the remainder of the day.

Unbeknownst to Peter, he was not alone on this side of the compound. Loki opted out of the most recent mission as he needed a little bit of a mental health day. He was relaxing, reading his favorite novel, and sipping in some chamomile tea. Loki enjoyed having the compound almost to himself. It gave him time to reflect on his new life and enjoy himself without distractions.

Loki was peacefully reading his book when all of a sudden there was a loud bang-out in the hallway. It was so abrupt that it caused Loki to spit out his tea which ended up landing on his book. Loki was furious, to say the least. Who on earth was making such a ruckus and being so careless!? Loki stormed out of his room and went on a hunt for whatever dull creature had disturbed him.

Meanwhile, Peter was having the time of his life. He was swinging off of the overhead balconies, soaring through the air shooting his life size replicas of bad guys. He was correct, this was by far the best web fluid he had ever made. It was slick and smooth and shot out faster than lightning, but durable enough to allow him to gracefully swing side to side. He was in a euphoric state. Mr. Stark would be so proud of his most recent accomplishment. Maybe he could even use his new web-shooters on the next mission! Peter was lost in thought, not really paying attention to his targets anymore. As he rounded a corner he saw a figure out of the corner of his eye. Without thinking, Peter did a flip in the air and shot the figure as he fell onto the ground and landed in his signature stance. He had the biggest smile on his face and felt like he was on top of the world.

That was until he froze and realized the figure he shot was moving. Peter ran over to the figure but once he saw who it was, shivers went down his spine. He had shot Loki, a literal God, smack dab in the face.

Now Peter was extremely intimidated by Loki. He had an aura about him that Peter wasn’t so sure if. He knew Loki was a great guy and all, but he still was scared of him. He always tried to tread lightly around him as to not set him off. Loki was a ruthless prankster, and Peter did not want to be caught in the middle of some of the pranks he pulled. When Loki was feeling playful, he was the light of any party.

But one look at his face and Peter knew he was in big trouble. Web fluid was stuck in Loki’s hair and although almost everything had been removed from his face, there were a few patches still hanging on. Peter gulped. “ Oh uhh hi Mr. Loki. I I I am so so so sorry. I didn’t see you there honest! “ Peter stammered out the best apology he could given his circumstance. He ultimately was trying not to shit his pants because the look Loki gave him was horrifying. Loki was seething. He wanted to rip Peter’s arms off or slap him silly for being so careless.

“ What the Hell are you doing you disgraceful insect! Some people are trying to relax and you are running around like a bull in a China shop! You are acting like a pathetic little child because you are one!!” Loki took a deep breath and pondered his next words. Peter looked like a lost puppy, and it almost made Loki feel bad. Almost. That’s when a lightbulb went off above Loki’s head. Peter was acting like a careless child so he deserved to be punished like one.

Peter saw Loki’s face soften lightly, only for it to change to pure evil and playfulness. “ You know Peter, I apologize for speaking to you like that. You are only a mere child and children need to be punished in their peculiar ways.” Peter’s furrowed his brows. What the hell was this guy talking about? He shouldn’t need to be punished, it was only an accident. “ Mr. Loki sir, it was an accident! I promise I will be extra careful next time!! Loki smirked. “ I’m sure you will be after I’m done with you, Peter Parker”. And with that, Peter was forcefully thrown back onto a nearby couch by a green mist. Before he could process the whole situation, Loki pounced on him, and easily ripped his new web shooter off his wrist. Loki then proceeded to shoot Peter’s hands, causing them to stick to the couch. Now, Peter was very strong, but unfortunately for him, he had made the fluid even stronger.

He was now pinned to the couch with an angry God sitting on his waist. “ Pleeease don’t hurt me, sir, I promise to never bother you again!” Peter was terrified, he had no idea what to expect at this point. Loki chuckled deeply and slowly placed his hands on the boys' sides. Peter flinched at the light touch. “ I would never hurt a child Peter. Besides, it’s much for fun to tickle one to death”. Peter’s eyes bulged from his head. Ever since he got bit by a spider, his nervous system was much more sensitive.

“ No no NO please Mr. Loki!! I swear I won’t bother you ever again. Don’t do this!! “ Peter begged as his life depended on it. Loki took this as his opportunity to test the waters. He gently tased Peter’s sides and the reaction he got was priceless. One little poke and this boy was giggling like a mad man. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Loki poked and prodded the poor boy's sensitive stomach looking for weak spots. Fortunately, every spot seemed to be pretty bad. Peter was a mess. His hair was a mess and he was giggling uncontrollably. “ Please Loki sir, I cananant take it ahaha! I’m really SORAHAHRYY! NO PLEAHEHES NOT THERE!!” Bingo. Loki’s eyes lit up when he saw where his fingers had randomly landed. They were under the kids' armpits. He was so in for it now. “ This will teach ya to never bother me again boy! You made me spill my favorite tea on my favorite book! You must pay!” Loki winked at Peter before he dove in with all ten fingers wiggling and poking and prodding Peter’s armpit. Peter’s laughter went up 3 octaves within milliseconds. “ LOKI NOHAHA PLEAHAHESE NOHAHT THERE! I AHHHHH!!” Peter was shaking his head back and forth, pulling with all his might to break loose the bonds. Loki was relentless. He gave Peter “ mercy” and removed one hand from his armpit so he could swirl it around the boy's belly button.

This combination was incredibly ticklish for Peter and there was nothing he could do to stop it. All he could do was lay there and scream his little heart out. Loki was enjoying it so much. This would teach him for ruining his day. Loki then switched his technique and started to massage Peter’s ribs. This kept the boy bubbling with cute little giggles, but then he would race his fingers back to his armpits just so he could hear him scream again. Anyone could become drunk on Peter’s laughter. It could boost anyone’s serotonin easily. Loki was having so much fun teasing the poor boy, he didn’t notice when Peter finally broke one hand free from his web. Peter grabbed Loki’s wrist and pleaded with a hoarse voice. “ Mercy mercy plehehease. I’m gonnahaha die.”

When Loki heard him he stopped. Peter sucked in as much air as his lungs would allow. His face was neon red like a tomato and he was dripping with sweat. His face was plastered with the biggest smile Loki had ever seen. He was a good kid, and maybe Loki shouldn’t have been so hard on him. But, he did ruin his book.

“ Next time, be mindful of who you disturb”. Peter nodded his head multiple times. “ Yes sir! I will never bother you again!!” Loki playfully hit Peter on the shoulder. “ But I gotta say, great work on that web material. It will be a great asset for our team.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. He had just been complimented, by a God!! Well and also tickled nearly to death, but that was less important. Peter decided that from this happy giggly incident, Loki wasn’t nearly as scary as he seemed.

But, he was definitely going to be more careful with his future experiments.

#Loki X Peter #tickle fic #marvel tickle #mcu tickle #ler loki #Lee peter #Fluff #Bring on the giggles #Ticklish Peter

81 notes · View notes

loversdelusion · 3 years

Text

softer

deacon st. john x reader

a/n: please let me know if you'd like a second part of Deacon and reader finding out Sarah is alive and their reactions to it, I'd probably write it anyway but still lol, my stories are never proofread so if my grammar sucks, apologies

You've known Deacon a few years before the apocalypse began, you just so happened to be in Farewell at the same time as him, Boozer and Sarah were, you watched him send an injured Sarah off with a NERO chopper, your heart ached for the lover's separation, having grown fond of their relationship.

Until you've experienced the much softer side of Deacon, you've seen him at his worst multiple times, seen him break, seen tears streaming down his face, you've also been the one to calm the sea of rage and hopelessness in his heart once or twice, or several times. Deacon did vow to find Sarah with whatever it took, and you helped him every step of the way, you loved him, you weren't entirely sure if he loved you but you felt like you could feel it, in certain things he did for you.

In turn of you giving him a light in darkness, he has done the same for you, he was there when you were down, there when all seemed lost and hopeless, he was your shoulder to cry but you only used that shoulder in the darkest of moments, his hands have held yours when they trembled, his smile replaced yours when you couldn't bring yourself to.

That had to have been love.

You were sitting outside the cabin in Lost Lake, watching Deacon tinker with his bike, Boozer's dog napping in your lap, Deacon sighed, fiddling with a wrench that kept slipping off the bolt he was trying to tighten. "Maybe try a smaller wrench?" Deacon's head lulled back "This is the only wrench I have" he muttered back, annoyance clear in his tone "Deek, you've been fiddling with your bike for over 30 minutes already, fucking with the same bolt" you picked up the puppy and placed it in front of it's little house.

"What's wrong?" You kneeled down beside him, studying his expression "Nothing" he replied, lifting his hand back up to his bike, you gently placed your hand on his arm "Deek, your bike is fine, what is it?" Deacon's arm lowered, dropping the wrench to the ground. "I was thinking about you.." His voice was soft, tone almost shy, you couldn't deny that your heart skipped a beat "Wh-..what about me?" Deacon turned his head to you, he cleared his throat and shook his head "Nevermind" he stood up, eyes staying on you.

"Wanna go for a ride?" He held out a hand to you "Where are we going? We just restocked yesterday" he smiled softly "Just for a ride, I want to show you something.." You slipped your hand in his, standing up "Ride with me?" He asked, mounting his bike, you obliged, getting on behind him, and gripping the bars beneath you.

"Okay, Mr. St. John, have me back before midnight, yeah?" He chuckled at your joke, shaking his head and starting the ignition "Okay, Cinderella" the engine started, the bike lurching forward into motion.

The wind breezed through your hair, sending it whipping around behind you, you were leaning against Deacon, your arms wrapped around him, since you ran over a bump and almost fell off, it was his idea, not that you minded much "Do you still have nightmares?" Deacon's voice called back to you, your whole body tensed slightly "Uh.." You were nervous to tell him, afraid you were annoying with what you felt was your overbearing neediness.

"Are you?" He asked again, his tone taking on worry "Um, yeah..still do" you finally replied "For how long?" He asked, you sighed "It's on and off, sometimes I'll have good sleeps, other times I won't" Deacon shook his head. "How long, (Y/n)?" The only sounds that could be heard was the bike's engine and the sound of the wind breezing passed the both of you, you sighed breathlessly "A few weeks" you could feel Deacon's posture go rigid, you knew he wouldn't like it, but you said it anyway.

The rest of the ride was silent, not tense but you felt like if you said something that went against your wellbeing, the atmosphere would turn tense instantly, so you decided to just leave it at that for now.

Deacon slowed the bike to a stop, you could see a trail in the tree line, Deacon dismounted, you following after him "I found this place, a while back on a job for Mike, I got sidetracked, wandered off the beaten trail and found it" Deacon approached the edge of the trail "Come on" he held out his hand to you, you stared for a few seconds "I don't bite, (N/n)" he smiled, you hesitantly slipped your hand in his, he gently pulled you along the path.

You were both about 10 minutes in, it was quiet and peaceful, the sounds of insects served as background noise, you could forget that the apocalypse happened here "I came here a few times after that run, just to think and breathe" he muttered, your hands still loosely held together.

You came to a grove, one that made your eyes widen, it was beautiful and serene, there was a pond a few feet away from you with a small waterfall behind it, flowers and bushes littered the the edges of the grove, fireflies floating around silently, you were in pure awe, unaware of the longing look Deacon gave you and the warm smile he held on his lips. "This-..it's beautiful" you whispered, letting go of Deacon's hand and walking over to the edge of the pond, the water was still, no ripples whatsoever, you sat down, Deacon sitting beside you, it was quiet again, this time it was a good quiet.

It didn't last long too long "Hey, (Y/n)..?" He sounded nervous, more nervous than usual, you acknowledged him by nodding, too enamored by the calm sight before you, you could feel his eyes on you but you couldn't bear to pull anyway from the scene. Deacon couldn't help but stare at you, the same longing look in his eyes from before, he admired you, the shape of your nose, the curve of your lips, your soft (h/c) hair, your soft (s/t) skin, he licked his dry lips and snapped his gaze away.

"I want to tell you something.." His voice was quiet, your trance finally broke away from the scenery "You've done so much for me in the entirety of us knowing each other, you've helped me through so many up's and down's". "You stayed right by my side when I've been so crazy, especially on my search for Sarah" you shook your head "Deek, you don't have to thank me for that, I'm sure I'd do that if I never knew the fate of my partner, you're just looking for closure.." Deacon took his turn to shake his head "No, I'm sure everyone's sick of me" Deacon laughed lightly.

"But you.." Deacon moved so he was kneeling in front of you on his knees "I want to do anything for you.." His words were quiet, it sounded like he was afraid of your reaction but he continued "I want to be anything for you.." You were stunned, unsure of whether or not he was confessing to you or just telling you how close he felt to you.

Deacon paused in his ramblings about your story together, eyeing your expression extra carefully "You..don't feel the same" his head dropped in defeat "What? No" you sat up, mirroring his sitting position "Deacon, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to say that..I was too scared" you smiled shyly, you could feel heat gathering in your cheeks. "Scared of what?" He asked "Scared of me saying something stupid and you not feeling the same way, I never want to ruin what we ha-" Deacon pressed his lips to yours, silencing your worries, you tensed at first, a little surprised at his actions but you warmed up to it quickly, kissing him back.

You were in pure bliss, finally after all these years, you got to feel Deacon's lips against your own, everything he's ever wanted to say poured in it, Deacon ran his hands up your arms, your own hands finding the skin of his neck, you pulled away instantly, realizing what you were touching- his tattoo of Sarah's name, his love for her basically immortalized on his skin, Deacon looked confused at your expression until he realized what you were looking at.

"Hey.." His hand caressed your cheek "Sarah will always have a place in my heart, you know that, but..the rest is yours" your heart fluttered at his words "If you'll have it" Deacon eyed you, waiting for your answer, you couldn't help the smile that curled on your lips "I'd love that" you breathed, your arms wounding around his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss, his hands finding the small of your back.

Deacon slowly pushed back on you, carefully lowering you to the ground, him hovering over you "You can have all of me, (Y/n)" he said, gentle eyes gazing into your own "No matter what, I'll always be yours" Deacon pressed a small kiss to your cheek. "That is a promise I'll make to you, if you can do the same" he held a hopeful look in his eyes, his thumb traced your bottom lip slowly "I promise" you brought your pinky finger into view, Deacon chuckled, wrapping his larger pinky around yours "We belong to each other".

It was nearing nightfall, you and Deacon laid tangled in each other's arms ever since your confessions "It's getting late.." You hated to break the moment, but night held dangers of it's own, Deacon sighed "Yep, let's get back" he stood up, holding a hand out for you, which you took with a smile.

The bikes came into view, nightfall was in full effect now, the same dreary world was back, ominous screeches could be heard in the distance "Hey" Deacon said, drawing your attention back to him, he smiled warmly at you, easing your worries a great deal "It's okay, I will never let anything happen to you" Deacon made his own silent promise of that, giving your hand a gentle squeeze and bringing it up to his lips, giving your hand a firm kiss, you blushed.

"(Y/n)..?" He asked once you were both back at the edge of the tree line "What?" You replied "It'll probably seem too soon..though I doubt that" he turned to face, grabbing both your hands "But from how long we've known each other..I feel like it's okay" you could almost hear him swallow the lump in his throat from how nervous he was, you could see how careful he was trying to be with his next words, you laughed lightly "Calm down, charmer, you can't lose me now" your heart melted as you earned a bashful smile from him.

He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, you placed your hand on his cheek, Deacon could almost faint at the adoration you had in your eyes, that was all for him and he almost couldn't handle it, the way you held him, the tone your voice had when you spoke to him, everything about you was comforting "I love you, Deacon" the words left your lips in a hushed tone, it was like it was only meant for him to hear it, three words for him and only him.

His heart soared at the words you spoke, the words his soul ached to hear, your eyes were warm and gentle, Deacon was an anxious person underneath his gruff exterior, with a wall made of bedrock around his heart, only the right people could ever get through to him. You just so happened to be one of those people "I-..I love you too, (Y/n)" he finally found himself able to reply to you, he pulled you in for a tight hug, tight enough to keep you from disappearing as if this was all a dream.

Deacon found his person, you in turn found yours too, he loved you and you loved him, that was all you ever craved, him- in his entirety, mind, body and soul, he was the missing piece to your messy puzzle, finally, you found your heart full again, and nothing in this world would take that feeling from you so easily, not even Sarah.

#days gone #days gone x reader #deacon st john #deacon x reader #deacon st john x reader

130 notes · View notes

fandom-necromancer · 3 years

Text

Brothers take care of each others

This was prompted by an amazing anon! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 | Character: Elijah Kamski

The ceiling above him was still clad in total darkness, the sky outside the window turning light blue only at the horizon and stars sparkling peacefully. It was an hour that demanded everyone to stay in bed and get a couple hours’ worth of sleep. Yet Gavin laid in his bed and stared up at his ceiling unable to fall asleep ever since the call of ‘Hah, it worked!’ had woken him up ten minutes to four o’clock. Since then he tried to ignore the distant sounds of tools clattering to the floor. One thing was for sure: Sleeping over these noises was far easier than falling asleep to them. he cursed, looking at his alarm that read 4:30 completely indifferent to what that time meant for Gavin. He sighed deeply. There was no use staying under the sheets any longer, he was awake now. Might as well stand up.

Not bothering with any clothes other than the boxer shorts and the loose old T-shirt he had slept with, he opened the door and yawned heartily on his way to the bathroom. ‘Oh, you are awake!’ Gavin’s lids fell in resignation, as he showed his brother the middle finger and continued walking towards the bathroom without even looking at him. Ten minutes later, he had splashed some water in his face and had readied himself for another day. Sort of. He had zero interest in trimming his stubble and trying to hide the dark rings under his eyes was of no use either. At least he felt ready to deal with his brother now.

‘Morning’, he hummed as he entered the living room, stifling yet another yawn. ‘Good morning indeed.’ ‘Says you’, Gavin commented. ‘I didn’t phcking asked to be woken up at four.’ ‘Sorry. Forgot you’re not a morning person.’ ‘Nah, I’m normal, other than you’, he huffed. ‘Okay, I need a coffee now.’ ‘Perfect! Then you can already try out my improvements!’ Gavin stopped in the middle of the kitchen. ‘Improvements?’

‘Yes! I hooked up your coffee machine with the internet! It is now able to import recipes for any kind of coffee you might like and start brewing it – if you have given it the right ingredients of course.’ Gavin looked at Elijah with a face that expressed to equal measures pain and frustration. ‘And what about a regular damn coffee, like I always make it?’ ‘I called that program a “phcking” coffee’, Elijah mocked him, tapping at the display hastily attached to the machine. Gavin watched how his favourite mug filled with his life saving drink and sighed. ‘Oh, the wonders of technology…’ ‘Oh, then you will love what I did to your microwave!’

Gavin groaned, sipping on his coffee instead of commenting. It had only been three days so far and already Elijah had “improved” half of the technology he had in the house. He would have told him to stop, but as long as Elijah was busy tinkering with his stuff, he wouldn’t become bored. And if Gavin remembered one thing from his childhood, then he knew that was about the worst state one could meet his brother in. Even with Elijah no longer being part of Cyberlife, he was still an influential and rather public person. His latest talk about the autonomy of androids had had quiet the impact, especially in the anti-android community, as they had looked up to him as the creator of these “supposedly alive” machines. It shouldn’t have surprised Eli as much as it had that afterwards, people would come to him with their hate. But since someone had broken into his heavily secured house and had killed one of the Chloes without leaving as much as a trace, his home was an active crime-scene and it was either a hotel room or Gavin’s apartment for the man.

Elijah, curious as ever, had of course taken the latter, if not to spy on police investigation, then to spend a few weeks with his brother he hadn’t seen in ages. Not that Gavin really could complain - it was fun having him around. But he was also a usually very private person and Elijah’s constant energy had quickly started getting on his nerves.

‘And? When will you drive to work today?’, Elijah asked. ‘Still time for breakfast?’ Gavin sighed. ‘Yeah, sure. Want some toast? Don’t think I have much-‘ ‘I want to come with you.’ That made even sleep deprived Gavin suddenly attentive. ‘What?’ ‘To your workplace’, Eli explained. ‘I could find out more about the status of the investigation of my home. Also, I could finally see for myself who that certain android is you put an eye on!’ ‘I don’t- Elijah, you can’t just stay at the station. You are a civilian! I will keep you updated.’ ‘I’m also one of the richest men in the world. I doubt anyone would want to stop me.’ ‘I- Elijah, you still can’t-‘ ‘Come on!’, the man just talked over him. ‘It will be fun! I’ll drive us.’ Unable to stop his brother storming out of the flat with the keys, Gavin sighed, downed the rest of his coffee and hastily got dressed. That would be the worst day of his work life for sure.

‘So this is where you work. Interesting.’ ‘You’ve been here before’, Gavin grumbled, not really sure if he was more tired or more embarrassed at the moment. ‘Promise me you’ll leave me alone for at least the first hour, okay? I seriously have to get some stuff done.’ ‘Oh, of course!’ But despite his words, Elijah followed him to his desk. Gavin decided to ignore him in favour of starting up his terminal, but Nines had never been the one to hide what he was thinking: ‘Mr. Kamski? What are you doing here?’ ‘Oh, you must be Nines! I’m just accompanying my brother to work. Wanted to take a look at the place he keeps complaining about.’ ‘You can’t be here.’ ‘Well, but I am, am I not?’ ‘That… That really isn’t a valid argument.’ ‘Listen, Nines. How about instead of talking about something you can’t change anyways, you show me around a bit?’ Nines looked at Gavin for help, but it was his partner’s silent pleading him to “yes, please, get him away from me” that let him cave in. ‘Okay, but I can’t show you everything.’

Gavin watched them walk off and praised the blissful silence. He concentrated on the screen in front of him, knowing he had to finish all the important work now before Eli would come back and annoy him further. He loved his brother. But some distance was clearly needed after all these years. He actually managed to answer his mails and find himself back into his case, reviewing evidence and the first lab results that had come in regarding blood analysis and genetic information about the murderer. Then Nines and Elijah came back. Gavin saw him passing Fowler’s glass cube and his heart sunk. But then the door opened.

‘What the hell is Kamski doing here?’, the Captain shouted in the room, effectively silencing any conversations. ‘I wanted to take a look around’, Elijah simply answered. Fowler looked at him as if he had just lost his mind. ‘This is a police station! Not some kind of tourist attraction! You can’t be here.’ Every other person would have long apologised and run for their life with Fowler this angry, but Elijah stood his ground and smiled. ‘And you can’t make my brother work his ass off like a Lieutenant and still pay him Detective money, especially after his recent achievements, yet here we both are.’ In over eighteen years of working in this precinct, Gavin had never seen Fowler speechless. The man stared at Elijah, who smiled at him in all confidence, while most of the officers in the precinct seemed ready to duck behind their tables.

‘Leave’, was all the Captain pressed out. ‘Now.’ ‘Alright, don’t want any trouble.’ Elijah grinned, winked at Nines and made his way over to the door. ‘Gonna pick you up later, bro!’ Gavin didn’t give him any answer as he knit his brows and rubbed his forehead. Too little sleep, too much early morning conversation, too little coffee and now the whole precinct’s attention. Great. He just wanted to get his work done, get home and sleep. And exactly that he was going to do.

Until his break began and Nines approached him. With a sigh of regret, Gavin turned around and waited. ‘Is it true?’ ‘Is what true, tin-can? I had a really shitty day so far and I still can’t read minds.’ Nines shifted his weight on his other leg and continued: ‘Your brother… When I led him through the building, he told me you had a crush on me.’ Thinking about everything that could have happened today, Gavin certainly hadn’t expected that.

‘This asshole! I will phcking kill him, I swear!’ ‘So… It’s not true?’ ‘Hell, of course it’s true!’ Gavin froze. Why had he said that? ‘Oh.’ Gavin looked up at the android, that was smiling to himself, cheeks tinged blue. ‘That’s… nice to hear.’ ‘Is it?’ ‘I mean, I like you a lot, Gavin. To learn it’s mutual is… very nice.’ Gavin sighed deeply, holding his head. ‘I will phcking kill him…’ ‘Are you not happy about this?’ ‘Phck, Nines, I am. I really am. But I’m tired, I have an annoying as phck brother at home that just won’t shut up and I really wanted to ask you out any other way than this.’

‘I understand’, the android nodded. ‘But it’s nice to have it out now, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah. Yeah it is. Listen, I… Let’s forget this happened for just this day, okay? I will leave early today, speak to my brother about all of this and if I’m not charged with murder tomorrow morning, how about we do this properly? Tomorrow is your free day, right?’

Nines nodded and smirked. ‘Call me if you need to hide the body.’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #Elijah Kamski #I hope this isn't as bad as my brain makes me think it is and you still enjoyed it #if not let me know I can try again

52 notes · View notes

madeofsplinters · 3 years

Note

for the symbols ask, would you mind all of them that you havent yet done for vader? you have very good opinions on him and i would like to hear them

Aw, thank you! Although man that is A LOT of Vader headcanons left to do :D But I like writing random stuff about him, soooo... Sad:

Vader still remembers all the Jedi younglings' names.

Angry/Violent:

I mean, what in Darth Vader's life *isn't* angry/violent? Lol. The particular way that he uses the Dark Side produces a really fucked up feedback loop: he's angry and in various forms of pain all the time, which produces an energy he can channel into violence, which produces self-hate and further pain, which produces more energy. Lather, rinse, repeat.

A lot of Palpatine's work with Vader is simply about managing this loop and adjusting as necessary. Giving him enough outlets for his rage that he doesn't just combust where he stands and start breaking things he isn't supposed to; tormenting him enough, and giving him the tools to self-torment, so that it never quite subsides into peace.

This isn't the only way of using the Dark Side, but it's a common one for Sith warriors; both Maul and Kylo Ren use something similar.

Sex:

Disabled people can, too have sex - it just takes a little more creativity. Vader has plenty of creativity, as well as magic super powers. If he doesn't indulge in such things - which, honestly, in canon he probably doesn't - then it's due to psychological factors: a conservative upbringing and ascetic lifestyle, unresolved grief for his wife, self-hate, depression, not wanting to let anyone in that close, etc.

Anyways if I see one more "BuT hIs DiCk DoEsN't WoRk" post here on Tumblr dot com, as if that body part is all that sex boils down to, I may actually scream.

Living Quarters:

When he's meditating in his stupid lava fortress, Vader senses the Dark Side nexus underneath him as if it's a living being, a kind of elemental lava spirit. Sometimes he talks to it in his head. (Is it "really talking" back to him? Is he just carrying out a strange symbolic drama in his own head? Don't ask - if you don't intuitively understand how a spiritual experience can be both these things at once, then you're not on Darth Vader's level.)

His favorite thing about the lava river is that it isn't Palpatine. Vader of all people knows how destructive lava is, but lava is direct and straightforward. It doesn't lie to him. It doesn't play games on purpose just to jerk him around. It just flows on and burns what's in its path, and there are days when Vader finds that both relatable and soothing.

Romantic:

Vader has a weakness for partners who are older than him, brave, smart, outwardly stable (the insides may vary), have a cute accent and strong negotiation and leadership skills, feed him attention in measured amounts, and are convinced they know better than him about everything. Padmé and Tarkin (and Obi-Wan, for that matter) all fit this type...

Friendship:

I mean, Vader doesn't really have friends, though. He is capable of forming really intense attachments to a few specific people, and tolerating others because of their competence, but anything in between those ends of the spectrum? Doesn't really compute. Vader does not chill or hang out or make pleasant conversation, not a lot of room for friends here.

Even as Anakin, he was a little like this. It was harder to tell, because his social circle was a lot bigger then - there were way more people in the "would die for them" circle, and way more who he went out of his way to be nice to, even if they weren't exactly close. But all of these social relationships involve some kind of power relation. Anakin has masters and fellow generals and an apprentice; he has favorite loyal troops and a favorite droid; he has a Supreme Chancellor who is being very nice to him for some reason. These are all people he works with, or who want something from him; he doesn't really have anyone he hangs out with just for the sake of hanging out with them. Padmé is the closest he gets to that, and even with her, he’s acting out a romantic role in the way that he thinks is expected of him so that he’ll deserve her love. (And doing a bad job of it, because Anakin is awkward, but never mind.)

Anakin has a huge heart and many attachments, don't get me wrong. But I don't think he's ever fully grasped the idea of a social connection that doesn't revolve around one of the people involved being useful to the other.

Quirks/Hobbies:

(I already did a “workshop/tinkering” one, so here’s a “flying” one...)

Vader's special experimental prototype TIE fighter is in constant need of repairs because of how recklessly he flies. It's not even that he crashes into things - it's just wear and tear because you're not actually supposed to yank the throttle that hard every damn time you turn the ship, Lord Vader, seriously how are you not passing out from those g-forces.

Vader is genuinely confused why the techs keep complaining. Podracers are used to having to rebuild their entire pod after every race. By that standard, he's doing great.

Childhood:

Tiny little bb Anakin wasn't actually any angrier than normal, at least by the standards of traumatized child slaves. Like, he was about at par. There were plenty of angrier ones. You couldn't have looked at him, in comparison to the other child slaves doing similar jobs in Mos Espa, and said "oh yeah that one in particular is gonna have anger and attachment issues."

He did stand out from the other kids, though, on account of just being a weird little nerd. He built a whole droid and a racing pod by himself and his master didn't even make him do it! He keeps talking about how he's going to be a Jedi and fly all around the galaxy and save the planet and marry a queen, when everybody knows there are at least three good reasons why that's wrong. He thinks random customers who come into his shop are his new friends! Anakin is just... weird. Off in his own little world. The other local slave kids know not to be too mean to him because he will always help you out in a pinch, and he is really good with machines, but other than that, I dunno, would you wanna hang out with Mr. I’m Gonna Be A Special Jedi?

Shmi sees this dynamic happening, but there's not much she can do, except to give Anakin all the love and reassurance that she wishes he was getting from his peers.

Cooking/Food:

Idk the Wookieepedia says that Vader can eat nutrient paste out of a straw in his mask if he wants to, but he doesn't want to because it tastes awful. So my questions here are (a) considering everything else they have to do, how can the suit's recesses possibly fit enough nutrient paste inside them for Vader's needs, and (b) seriously we're how many years in the future and we can't even make a nutrient paste that tastes good? We haven't even hit on "bland"? For the Emperor's chief enforcer, whose personal care budget is virtually unlimited? Yeah no, I'm calling canon error on this one. He can't eat, or it's too much trouble to get food into him with the other life support, so he's tube-fed. That's my headcanon.

Appearance:

Vader is very muscular. (This isn't really a "head"canon? He's literally played by a bodybuilder? But some fans disagree, so, eh.) He was already tall and strong when he was Anakin, but the suit adds height and it adds a LOT of extra weight that he has to be able to carry around with him literally every time he moves.

His recovery process after Revenge of the Sith involved having to learn how to move again, with new prosthetic limbs and horrifying new chronic injuries, basically from the ground up, and having to do it well enough that he could sword-fight Jedi Masters to the death, and he had to put on a ton of muscle in order to do that.

Palpatine was very strict in the nutrition and exercise regimes he imposed for this purpose. I have a sneaking suspicion that steroids were also involved.

#darth vader

18 notes · View notes

mostlikelyshutup · 3 years

Text

thoughts while watching the first harry potter:

listen i started this list a little late im ngl but notable thoughts so far are me thinking of dumbledore as a gay idiot and still loving hagrid

do you think hes speaking in parseltongue in the zoo when hes speaking to the snake

forgot boats existed

these idiots do scream a lot dont they

i forgot how light hearted this universe really is in the first couple movies

yer a wizard harry, okay hagrid maybe slide him into it a little better

we get it tuney you have fucking trauma, doesnt mean you should abuse a child

hasnt everyone had their name down since they were born, hagrid? theres a list

i like that his umbrella is pink

are you paying for those damages hargid? stop taking the door off the hinges

though, if the dursleys are, keep breaking shit

speaking about dragons on the the fucking tube, its a miracle harry didnt get in trouble with the ministry sooner

what is hagrid's usual? does anyone know???

fucking Quirrell, cant wait for your epic love story with the dark lord

maybe we should tell the 12 year old how the fuck everyone knows his name, just maybe

they do a great job of getting the wonder down pat

how much money and licensing do you think it took for them to get all these owls on set

ahh yes, antisemitism the bank

how many vaults are in gringotts?? also if harry's vault is the potters vault, a literal like sacred 28 family, one of the original families, and its number 600 something, how many were there before the potters?? did the potters get a vault recently? or is this james and lily's vault?? how rich were james and lily if so??

look at ollivander, crazy tinker uncle, love him

this might be the socialist in me but why do people have to pay for wands if everyone needs one??

why is the dark lords twin wand just sitting around on the shelf, ollie me boy??

do you think thats Harry's true wand or do you think thats because of the horcux thing?? do you harry had to get another wand after he died?? did he? i dont remember the last movie

is ollie me boys actor wearing contacts or are his eyes just like that??

thats a very weird way of showing Halloween 81, very misleading

hagrid said ill predict voldys rise in the first movie so we can have some plot development

hagrid is late to everything isnt he? i can feel it in my bones

i swear ive seen these movies, and ive even read the first book, i just dont remember shit

youd think theyd have someone in the know stationed close to the entrance for the platform, for any muggleborns

ginnys actress really had no fucking lines in this movie did she, just had to stand there

oh wait she said good luck

amazing work ginny

ooh a warm filter

can muggles see the express? like just running from london to scotland

wicked!

you didnt have to show the woman the sad sandwich ron

i think the trolly replenishes magically, i think thats how thats how that works, i want to believe that

god i cant tell if i would love or hate hermione, shes pretentious but so was i at that age

god dont fucking point your wand right in someones face mione

how does mione know who harry is?? why does she care?

look at the tiny first years, might just go and pinch theyre cheeks

MINNIEEEE i love you minnie

looking stunning minnie, the green brings out the sternness in your brow

you go minnie, give your speech, thats my head of house

shut up draco, youre not bond

you pretentious fuckwit, your hair is brassy anyways

if this is a class of kids born in the middle of a war, how big are the usual class sizes wtf

THE FUCKING CLAP

fucking propaganda ron, you slytherin hater

what order are these names going in, did they just randomized the list

oooh we get quiet for the boy who lived, jesus let him keep living

the fact that for the rest of these people its just silent is so fucking funny to me, Harry's just fucking whispering to himself

get their attention minnie

me dads a muggle, mums a witch, bit of a shock for him when he found out

NICK, love to see you buddy

i have no emotional attachment to peeves but i feel i should mention him here

the stairs still piss me off, why the fuck would you make moving stair cases

who sets out gloves for the next day? am i the weird one who doesnt??

Minnie, you are the love of my life

shut up snape you dramatic bloodpurist incel

i know theyre setting him up to be mistaken as the villain but jesus christ hes still an asshole

your robes Neville, you forgot your robes

its weird how they have to learn all these latin charms yet only have to say up to get their brooms to work

why wont you go after him, hes obviously not exactly in control, Hooch

does Hooch only teach first years? she is quite literally the equivalent of a history teacher who coaches football

what the fuck is Quirells classroom

they dont make the house teams because no first years can try out, Ron

MINNIE PLAYED QUIDDITCH?!?!? WHY DIDN'T I KNOW THIS

why didnt you speak up earlier Mione wtf

bc the fire wont give you away, harry, better hide

FLUFFY, WHOS A GOOD BOY

they have much worse things locked up in the school, Ron

Oliver wood is a bloody liar because i still dont fuckign understand quidditch, also theres like 500 rules, wtf

thats a shitty explanation of how the game works, Oliver

BLOW IT UP SEAMUS

SHES TWO FEET BEHIND YOU RON YOU IDIOT

carrot cake? on halloween?

dont shrug as if you didnt literally bully her ron

thought youd oughta know, bit of an understatement Quirell

no duh the trolls left the dungeon ron

lying: the best start to any friendship

we're at a net zero points for gryffindor for the year at the moment

the amount of interaction these kids have with professors is so weird to me, is this what small class size do to kids?? its weird

not comforting Oliver

Okay i understand Oliver simps now, I get it okay

are there no backups or subs for quidditch? feels like there should be, like of all the games

set him on fire mione, i know hes not the villain of the movie but god he sucks

fancy flying from harry fucking potter

okay but also i feel like there are some things we should not trust hagrid with, like hes not that great at keeping secrets

why is harry excited about christmas if he thinks hes not getting presents? i knw there are other aspects but like thats the only reasont o get up early

i always remember this scene at night for some reason??

not just an invisibility cloak, THE invisibility cloak ron

btw who gives it to harry? is it remus? is it dumbledore? is it like an inheritance thing? whats up with that?

there are jumpscares in harry potter

he very much can hide, filch

stop being a narc mrs norris

does harry even know what his parents look like at this point? how does he know who the fuck is in the mirror of erised?? he doesnt have that stupid scrapbook yet does he

oh they nod, sure lets clear up that plot hole

they shouldve put sirius and remus in the mirror in that scene, shown his whole family, wouldve been a nice setup

how does rupert grint already look so tired as a twelve year old

big speech to give to a twelve year old Dumbledore, when you wont even tell him what you see

Emma really does just slam that book on Daniels hand, thats mustve fucking sucked

the fact that ive watched two movies that had Nicholas Flamel in two very different roles this year is very strange to me

well thats probably on account of it being a fucking dragon egg hagrid, now isnt it?

was hagrid a hufflepuff? i think he was, maybe a ravenclaw

yes four, you blonde idiot

that shot is really nice, it sets them apart

what happened to filch to make him such a miserable man?

ooh mention of werewolves, awooo werewolves of london

yeah just dip your whole hand in hagrid, dont be scared of the strange liquid, take a nice little bath

i loev that dog, i want that dog, i want to hug that dog

god just the look of that forest is so bloody cool

wait so is that quirell walking fucking backwards?

maybe ask who the fuck youre talking to before asking other questions??? wtf harry

why are yout talking to the centaur like hes your old friend harry, youve literally never met him before

snape doesnt want the stone at all Harry

god hagrid you sweet stupid man

snape is completely valid for that, if a twelve year old ever looked at me like that i would punch them

Do you think people ever loose invisibility cloaks? like theyre invisible do you think they ever just never get found again

i hate the look of the dog spit, that is so gross

they really left everything in except for the fucking potions didnt they, damn

harry potter walked so queens gambit could run

hermione, posted up

rons stupid in the later movies because he got a concussion as a twelve year old

god harry really posted up to beat up snape in fucking khakis

"I knew you were a danger to me!" Hes twelve, Quirell

let me wait for this weird dude to unravel his head scarf instead of running away

the magic in this movie is real fucking conditional isnt it

just some casual necromancy for the stone? you sure about that voldy, you two faced bitch?

let me choke out this twelve year old real quick

oh yeah why is he able to just avengers endgame Quirell? is there an answer to that? like was that ever found out

do you think voldy passing by him while he hold the stone actually killed him but since he holds the stone hes functionally unkillable and then some magic gets put into him and thats why he can return to life later when he actually goes to the whole afterlife place?

ohhh we're vouching on the blood magic for the endgaming of Quirell

do you think dumbledore came across the vomit flavored bean before or after his sister died?

Mione's got a headband! Looking snazzy!

how did Hufflepuff only get 352 points? Gryffindor literally lost 150 points this year and they only beat them by 50, wtf, is it because they kept getting caught with weed

I wont even speak on the fucking outrage that is this point awarding, its already been spoken on. However, Neville shouldve gotten more points

What if someone just stood up and started challenging Dumbledores math, that would be so funny

some of these extras are really attractive

but james potter is somehow so fucking ugly why did they do that to my mans

hagrid deserves the last shot of this film, i love him, he deserves everything, that stupid sweet man

#harry potter #sorcerer's stone #harry potter and the sorcerer's stone #harry potter and the philosopher's stone #hermione granger #ron weasley #k mumbles #fred weasley #george weasley #ginny weasley #hagrid #rubeus hagrid #albus dumbledore #long post #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin

25 notes · View notes

spagbol99 · 3 years

Note

Heyy happy FFWF! You’re amazing and I love your fics! So, my brain just decided to remind me of one of your posts from a while ago where you gave us a snippet of a fic you’re currently writing (it was the seven-sentence challenge I think) and I got curious about it again. Is it something you’re still working on? If it is, would it be possible to get another sneak peek to satisfy our irondad cravings? I’m sending some sunshine your way, hope you have an awesome day!☀️

Hiya! Happy FFWF!

I am indeed still working on my BioDad fic. I am about 90K written but I won't lie, I’m struggling a bit. I think a lot of it has to do with wanting it to be good enough- it doesn't feel like it has the same flow like I had with A Peter Parker Problem. I mean, I think what I have is ok but I want it to be as better (- sorry couldn't resist a Homecoming pun..!). So I prob need to get out of my own head about it. Anyway, that really isn't what you asked me, is it?! Can you have another sneak peek? Yes you can! Ok, you know how long winded I am so it’s more of a half a chapter rather than a snippet - oh well!

----

Peter

“Peter, Boss would like to see you in his workshop.” FRIDAY’s voice filtered down from above.

Peter looked up towards where it had emanated from, worrying his lips between his teeth.

Why did Mr Stark want him to go down there?

Peter had retreated back to his room after they had said their goodbyes to Harley. The weekend had turned out much better than he had expected. He’d actually enjoyed himself and not felt like he was taking up space in the Penthouse. They’d tinkered about with tech and watched movies. Mr Stark was so much more relaxed in the workshop. He couldn’t deny that it’d been fascinating to see the man in his element. He’d left the two teenagers to do their own thing at one point, but Peter’s eyes had been drawn to the man as he worked: watching him work with holographic schematics with singular focus.

Peter put down his pen on top of the homework packet that he was working on and headed towards the workshop.

Sweat started to pool under his armpits as the doors to the room swished open as soon as he was in front of them; no need to knock or announce his arrival.

He tentatively followed the sound of metal on metal and as he turned the corner, he could see Mr Stark was working a sheet of a thin alloy into – well he wasn’t sure what, but something else. There was a bead of sweat running down the side of his face, and his hands were oily.

The banging stopped for a moment, and Peter cleared his throat.

Mr Stark twisted towards the noise, pulling his safety visor up when he saw who it was and sending Peter a warm smile.

“You, um, wanted to see me, sir?”

Tony took the visor off completely now and headed towards him, picking up and rag and wiping his hands as he did.

“Yeah kid, I did. It’s about borrowing the tools.”

Peter straightened up. Shit, he was in trouble. He looked at the floor and put his hands in his pockets.

“I’m sorry. FRIDAY said you wouldn’t mind, but I should have asked you directly. It won’t happen again, sir.”

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant…” Mr Stark’s face crumpled. “My tools are your tools. It’s just, I figured it’s safer if you use them in here. So, I set you up with your own workstation in here, you know, so you can have a proper area to create.”

Peter stared at him. He’d never had his own place before. A million possibilities went through his mind.

“It’s just over here…”

He followed Mr Stark a few steps to where there was indeed a cleared off desk.

“I figured you might like a holo projector too.”

Peter’s eyes widened as Mr Stark opened it up.

“I set you up your own server so you can save your work easily. You can talk to FRIDAY just as you’ve seen me do and she’ll help with any calculations or, well, anything you require.”

Peter continued gaping, as Tony jotted something into the holo and a rotating gauntlet came into view. “I took the liberty of putting this on here for you to practice getting used to working with the system.”

Peter stepped forward straight away. This was the coolest thing ever. He pushed his fingers forward and grabbed a piece of the floating gauntlet in his hands, pulling it apart in a motion that he’d seen Mr Stark doing yesterday. The image separated out into the component parts. He moved the pieces around with no more than a flick of his wrist. God, the whole system was so intuitive, it was incredible.

Peter spent a few moments engrossed before he realised that Mr Stark was standing there watching him.

“Oh, thank you, this is awesome. Th-thanks.”

He saw Mr Stark moving slowly, no doubt on purpose, to place his hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. It felt warm and secure. It had been a while since he’d felt such a gentle, warm gesture from an adult. He turned his attention back to the hologram; trying to keep his cheeks from burning but knowing he probably wouldn’t succeed.

Mr Stark’s hand retreated and he did too.

“Um, Mr Stark?”

The man turned around with a hopeful expression.

“I, uh, don’t suppose you have time to show me how it all works.” Peter chewed the inside of his mouth. He didn’t need help, not really.

Mr Stark let out the biggest smile that Peter had seen since he arrived, and he came and stood next to him.

“Yeah, sure bud. All the time in the world.”

Tony

Tony’s heart had taken a while to calm down. He’d been in a lot of high pressure situations in his lifetime. Literal life and death situations; Afghanistan, the wormhole and yet here his heart had been hammering just as much as it had then. At least that is what it felt like to him. Hell, the kid could probably hear it from where he was stood next to him.

He was stood shoulder to shoulder with his son. Just that thought alone was enough to make his stomach flip – though this time in a good way. His heart rate gradually began to decline, and he tried really hard to keep the ridiculous smile off of his face.

Being so close to him, hearing him talk. And God, he was so fucking smart. He seemed to want to hide it, but then he’d start to get excited, and Tony could see the inquisitiveness and joy in him. It was there, had been all along, there just hadn’t been the chance to push it out from behind the sheer fear the kid must be feeling about this whole new situation, this whole new identity that he had.

Tony knew that they should have talked about it all directly by now. But the kid was so on edge, he didn’t want to do anything to make it worse.

Social Services had reminded him that one of the major conditions of their breaking protocol was Tony’s agreement that Peter would attend Counselling sessions – both individual and family sessions. They were set up to start next week – it was just down to Tony to tell him. Tony looked over at him, as Peter studied some calculations, his dark eyes intent on the numbers in front of him, knocking a pencil against his lips as he did. Not today.

This whole weekend had been incredible – he’d be sure to send Harley a fat gift for his part in that. He’d made it all so effortless. So Keener would be getting a gift and an extra bump in his college fund too. But if the weekend had been good, then this afternoon had been perfect.

Tony hadn’t been too sure how the offering of the worktable would go down. It could quite possibly have been met with the same polite distance Peter had shown him since he got here. He was sure he was being totally transparent. Having the worktable in here meant spending time with him. He wasn’t sure that was what Peter wanted. But then, he’d just been about to leave him to it, not wanting to hang around applying pressure and Peter had reached out to him. Peter didn’t need guidance on the system – not really, that much was obvious in the first five minutes - so Tony could only surmise that Peter wanted to spend time with him. He’d asked about Tony’s old projects and tentatively asked Tony to show him them. Which was how they came to be elbow deep in giving DUM-E a proper tune up. Self-admittedly, Peter wasn’t as up with mechanical engineering, so it gave Tony the opportunity to teach him – something that he had always imagined that he’d have the opportunity to do with his son.

Peter’s head lifted and a moment later Tony heard the tell-tale click of Pepper’s heels.

“Tony!” Pepper’s voice called. And oh yes, that was her pissed off tone.

“Over here,” he called back cheerfully.

“So you are here!” Her voice was starting to grow louder as she got closer. “You can’t just mute FRIDAY and include me in that; we had a meeting, what was so…”

Pepper had made it to where they were and stopped still, her eyes training from him to Peter and back again.

“Sorry Pep, forgot about that meeting.” Tony couldn’t help but smile at her with what he hoped was a ‘look at this, don’t mess this up’ vibe.

Pepper’s mouth was open but before she could say anything, Peter did.

“Sorry Miss Potts, I asked Mr Stark to show me how DUM-E worked…” Peter seemed to hunch in on himself.

“That’s no problem. Tony appointed me as CEO specifically so he didn’t have to deal with meetings, if I remember correctly,” Pepper said, sending him a warm smile.

“That was one reason.”

“I suppose it is pointless of me to ask if either of you have stopped to eat whilst you have been down here?”

Tony looked at Peter, who looked back.

“Erm…”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Tony, it’s 8pm and he hasn’t eaten!”

“Oh, sorry kid…”

“I didn’t even notice the time, I was so focussed,” Peter said sheepishly.

“Oh no, now there are two of you.” Pepper put a hand to her forehead. “I’ll go and order something in whilst you finish up and wash up. Pizza ok, Peter?”

“Yes, Miss Potts. Thank you.”

With that she turned on her heel and was off.

Tony looked to Peter who looked a little chastised.

“You did good, kid. If you hadn’t been here, she’d have had my head.” Tony grinned and Peter seemed to push a little smile out. “Shall we get cleaned up?”

Peter looked down at the robot in front of them as he twisted his hands together. “We are about ready to close him up, right? I don’t like to leave him all hanging out. Can we just finish it off, sir?”

Tony shifted his weight back.

“How about we make a deal? You stop calling me ‘sir’, and we can finish DUM-E off.”

Peter looked up at him, a look of uncertainty in his face. Was it so hard to not call your own father ‘sir’? Had his parents or uncle been so formal? Or was it something else? The words emotional distance floated into his mind – huh- maybe he had paid some attention during his past therapy sessions.

“Ok,” he said softly.

“Great,” Tony gently knocked his shoulder into Peter’s without thinking too much about it and was rewarded with a smile. “Let’s get this guy back on the road.”

----

Thanks for the ask!

8 notes · View notes

thompsborn · 4 years

Note

fic where harley is a doctor that works w helen cho that sees peter often because of how much he gets hurt from being spider-man? and they fall in love bc they r already smitten for each other bc why wouldn't they be

i didn’t know how much i needed an au like this until you sent it omg

[read on ao3]

—

He’s in the middle of taking a sip of coffee when the alarm goes off.

“Mister Keener,” Friday says, as he’s cursing over the hot coffee that’s soaking into the front of his shirt. Thankfully, it’s not hot enough to actually burn him, but that doesn’t make it any less unpleasant. “Your assistance is needed in the Medical Wing.”

Harley frowns. “What time is it?”

“Four fifty eight in the morning, Mister Keener.”

“Jesus, really?” Harley sets his mug down and turns his arm over to look at his watch. His brows shoot up towards his hairline, surprised. “Wow. Okay. Didn’t realize it was... Jesus. Alright.”

Friday sounds almost amused when she tells him, “Doctor Cho is insisting you hurry.”

Harley sighs. “Yeah, okay. On my way.”

At this time of the night, the only medical staff on hand are the ones who live close by—like Helen, who has an apartment less than a two minute walk away—and those who live on site, like Harley, who’s had his own floor in the tower since he was fifteen and told Tony over a phone call that he was thinking about coming to New York once he was done with high school. Because of this, Harley isn’t all that surprised to find that it’s only him and Helen that show up in the MedBay—if anything, it’s what he expected.

And he should have expected who, exactly, they’re treating in the middle of the night, but he still finds himself mildly surprised when he comes face to face with Peter’s sheepish grin.

“Of course it’s you,” Harley says, standing at the foot of the hospital bed with his arms crossed over his chest. “Who else would be waking me up like this?”

“Don’t lie to me,” Peter says, sheepish grin turning a bit snarky. “You weren’t asleep.”

Harley purses his lips. “I could’ve been.”

Peter rolls his eyes, but doesn’t get the chance to respond before Helen is hovering by his side, snapping her gloves into place and instructing, “Friday, give me the run down.“

“Mister Parker has several second degree burns along his left leg and left arm,” Friday responds. “His right wrist is broken, and there appears to be a laceration along his abdomen.”

Harley winces in sympathy. “Rough night?”

Peter tries to shrug, but the movement makes his features twist up in a flash of pain. His voice comes out a bit strained when he says, “You could say that. There was—house fire. Not fun.”

“Get everyone out?” Harley asks, if only to provide a slight distraction as Helen assesses the broken wrist, likely checking to see if it needs to be reset or if it’ll be able to heal properly as it is. Peter tries for a grin.

“All of ‘em. Even the kids pet turtle.”

Harley pats Peter’s right knee, careful to remember that it’s his left leg with the burns. “Job well done, Spider-Man.”

“Harley,” Helen says, grabbing his attention. She’s apparently deemed Peter’s wrist not a main concern and is already peeling Peter’s suit off of him. Harley snaps into focus instantly, listening intently as Helen tells him, “I need you to take care of the laceration while I get started on the burns. When that’s done, we need to get that wrist in a cast until it heals.”

Peter pouts. “A cast? Really?”

Helen looks at him sharply. “Last time we didn’t put you in a cast, you managed to re-break your arm before it could heal. Twice.”

Peter’s pout vanishes with a meek chuckle. “It was an accident?” he offers.

“You, Peter Parker,” Helen says, averting her attention back to his burns as she speaks, “are somehow my best and my worst patient of all time. And I’m Tony Stark’s doctor, too, so that says a whole lot about you.”

“Hey—” Peter cuts off with a hiss as Harley starts to disinfect the large cut on his side. Harley offers an apologetic half smile that Peter waves away with another wince and a wobbly sort of grin. “I’m not worse than Mr. Stark.”

Helen hums, high pitched and teasing.

“I’m not,” Peter insists. “I’m not!”

“Believe what you want,” Helen tells him.

Peter huffs. “Why are you being mean to me? Aren’t doctors supposed to be nice to their patients? Isn’t that, like, a thing?”

Harley snorts when Helen says, “Next time, don’t wake me up at four in the morning with second degree burns and a broken wrist, and maybe then I’ll be nicer to you, hm?”

—

The thing is, Harley didn’t plan on this.

As in, growing up, he was sure that what he wanted was to be a mechanic. He loved to build, take apart, recreate, understand. It’s all he ever did. Hell, when Tony Frickin’ Stark broke into his garage, the guy ended up making Harley his own mechanic heaven to say thanks for helping him out.

And Harley still loves all of that, to be fair—he spends a lot of his free time tinkering in Tony’s lab now, helping him out with whatever the man’s working on and often working on his own fun little projects on the side—but it’s not his main drive. It’s not the center of his world.

He thinks it started when he saved Tony.

In a way, anyway—he had only been twelve at the time, and it’s not like twelve year olds are exactly apt on having life changing realizations that change the course of their future. Still, he was a twelve year old that saved Tony Stark’s life, and there was some kind of thrill, almost. It was hard to explain then, and Harley isn’t sure if he could put it into words now, but the feeling had made his fingers feel all tingly and his heart thud heavily in his chest. It was similar to when he built his first successful bot and it came whirring to life, only the feeling was intensified.

He felt like he was doing what he was supposed to be doing. He knew he wanted to save lives.

“You’re getting better,” Helen tells him, after Harley’s helped the medical team with bandaging up the members of the Avengers that just returned from a mission. None of the wounds had been major, mostly just scrapes and bruises, but it’s the most amount of people Harley has helped treat at once, which is a big step.

Harley shrugs, drying off his hands, having just finished washing them. “You’re a good teacher.”

Helen chuckles at that. “How are your classes?”

“Good,” Harley answers, nodding his head. “Kinda boring. I know most of it already, thanks to all the training you’ve given me, but that‘s not really new. I knew everything they taught me in high school, too.”

“You sound like Peter when you say that,” Helen muses, an amused quirk to her brow.

Harley rolls his eyes. “Y’know, people keep saying that, but I only see him when he’s bleeding out and that doesn’t make it feel like we’re all that similar.”

“Oh, you’re similar, alright,” Helen says, laughing a bit. “You’re both genius kids who bust your asses off to save people’s lives.”

Wrinkling his nose, Harley says, “But I don’t do it in spandex. Key difference there, doc.”

Helen holds her hands up in some kind of surrender. “Just saying, you two are alike.”

“I’ll make sure to tell him you said that next time he breaks his leg,” Harley quips.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Friday interjects, “but Spider-Man is reportedly injured and heading to the tower now. ETA of six and a half minutes.”

Harley rolls his eyes up to the ceiling with an exasperated sigh. Helen can only laugh.

—

“Ow. Ow, ow—oh, Jesus, that’s—ow—!”

“Sorry,” Harley says, only averting his eyes for a second to flash Peter an apologetic look before focusing back on the stitches he’s giving him.

Peter curses, slamming his left fist into his own thigh as Harley pushes the needle through. “This sucks,” he complains, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth. “This is—why is this worse than getting stabbed? Why do I prefer getting stabbed over this? This blows.”

“You need to stop moving,” Harley tells him.

Making an indignant sort of noise, Peter asks, “How the hell am I—I can’t stop moving! This hurts, man, like—like, really fuckin’ hurts!”

“Moving makes it worse, dipshit,” Harley retorts, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

“You know what else makes it worse?” Peter glares at the wall. “Not having pain killers.”

Harley does roll his eyes now. “Not my job. I just give you the drugs, I don’t make them.”

“I know, but Mr. Stark isn’t here for me to bitch at, so I’m complaining to you about it instead.”

Harley can’t help the way that he snorts at that, finishing off the last of the stitches as he does so. “I usually don’t like to listen to someone complain while I’m working.”

“Sucks to suck,” Peter replies. “Are you done?”

“Yep.” Harley leans back, taking off his gloves and tossing them into the trash. “Any other injuries? Stab wounds? Broken bones?”

Peter hums, tilting his head from side to side. “I don’t think so. Friday?”

“All clear, Mr. Parker.”

Harley frowns. “The fact that you had to ask worries me.”

Peter shrugs. “I get hurt a lot. Kinda used to it.”

“Still,” Harley says. “That’s concerning. Like, you still feel pain, right? You would know if you were hurt somewhere else, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, trust me, I feel pain,” Peter snorts. “But some things just... don’t matter? Like... I dunno, but if it’s not serious, it’s like my brain filters it out on it’s own to focus on other things. Which, probably, y’know, not good, but, like, oh well.”

“Definitely not good,” Harley murmurs, frowning to himself as he squints around the room for a moment. “Well, if you have nothing else, then you’re good to go. And, honestly, thank god that’s all you have, ‘cause this is the first time I’ve done anything without Helen around and anything more than stitches would’ve had me flipping shit and fucking it all up.”

Peter lets out a light laugh, pulling his shirt down, over the gash that Harley just finished stitching. “You wouldn’t fuck it up,” he says, sounding light and humorous yet entirely serious, too. “You’re, like, really good at your job, Harley.”

Harley scrunches his nose up on his face. “Ew. Don’t be nice to me. It’s gross.”

Peter laughs again, a little bit louder, though the way it makes his stomach jump has him wincing when it pulls at his stitches. “I’m serious!” he insists. “Like, I know you’re still a med student and stuff, but Helen is probably the best person to be training you, so you’re, like, more qualified than most normal doctors. You have the experience that most people still in med school don’t have. I mean, you patch up the freakin’ Avengers, Harley! You gotta be good at this to do that!”

“I help patch up the Avengers,” Harley corrects. “The only person I’ve ever fixed up by myself is you, thanks to your insane ability to always get hurt.”

“It’s a talent,” Peter shrugs. “And hey, I bet it keeps you entertained.”

Harley snorts. “Entertained is not the right word for it, Spidey. Impressed, maybe, by just how much trouble you’re capable of getting yourself into.”

Peter grins. “Gotta impress people somehow, right?”

—

Harley wouldn’t call it bonding.

Because it’s not. It’s not bonding. It’s small talk, and pleasant conversations, while Harley sets a broken bone or treats another burn. It’s filling the silence because, apparently, Helen trusts Harley to handle Peter on his own, unless it’s a major injury that requires more than one person on hand, and Harley isn’t sure why he’s being trusted with this, but he’s pretty intent on not fucking it up.

But it isn’t bonding. They’re just... acquaintances. Who talk. Like, a lot, because Peter comes in at least four times a week needing treatment for something, and that gives them a lot of time to talk. Maybe Harley learns a lot about Peter during this time, like his favorite song, and what his comfort hoodie is, and why he became Spider-Man in the first place. Maybe Peter learns where Harley is from, how he met Tony, and what made him decide to be a doctor over a mechanic.

Maybe, after a few weeks, they start having inside jokes, built not only from the time they spend alone together, but also from the months upon months that Harley was helping Helen treat Peter, too. Sometimes, Peter snorts so hard that he reopens his stitches and Harley has to fix it. Sometimes, Harley can’t stop laughing when he needs to have steady hands and he ends up hunching over on himself and wheezing because of whatever it is that Peter said. One day, Peter comes in when he isn’t injured, dressed in casual clothes with a few textbooks from his ESU courses in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. “I’m headed up to see Mr. Stark,” he tells Harley, “but I thought I’d give you this,” and he holds out the cup of coffee with a big, cheesy sort of grin.

“Why?” Harley asks, though he accepts the cup gratefully.

Peter shrugs. “I’d probably have bled out ten times over if it weren’t for you, and you looked, like, really tired yesterday, so I thought you might need it.”

He is tired—exhausted, really, because his classes may not be hard but there are some big tests coming up that he needs to study for and it’s hard to find the time to study in between training with Helen and doing all the millions of other assignments that are being tossed his way. He takes a sip of the coffee, hums in satisfaction at the way it warms him up, and says, “Thanks.”

“Least I could do,” Peter tells him.

So, maybe they’re friends. Maybe—maybe—Harley is starting to look forward to seeing him and keeps trying to think of a casual way to offer they hang out sometime, outside of the med bay. Maybe Peter starts bringing Harley a cup of coffee every time he goes to visit Tony, and maybe Harley starts to feel a little thrill whenever he hands the coffee over and their fingers briefly brush.

Maybe it is bonding, but it’s not a crush. It’s not.

(”You’re adorable when you’re in denial,” Helen tells him.

Harley sinks in his seat and tries to disappear. “Shut up.”)

—

The letters of his textbook are blurring in front of his eyes when the alarm rings.

He jumps at the sound, looks up at the ceiling with slightly squinted eyes and furrowed brows, expecting Friday to calmly inform him that his assistance is needed in the med bay, like usual. Instead of that, though, the alarm continues to blare, and all Friday says is, “Urgent. Urgent. Urgent.”

Which is code for: someone’s about to die if he doesn’t hurry.

Instantly, he jumps to his feet, feeling wide awake despite being on the brink of dozing off just a few short moments ago. “Okay,” he tells himself, rushing out of his room and sprinting towards the elevator, which is already open and waiting for him. He only just barely thinks to swipe his tablet along the way, clutches it in his hands while he says, “Okay, okay, okay—who, uh—Friday? Who is it?”

“Iron Man and Spider-Man are both heavily injured and require immediate assistance,” Friday informs him gravely. “Doctor Cho is already treating Mr.Stark and has told me to inform you that you will be in charge of Mr. Parker.”

“Oh, god,” Harley breathes, pinching the bridge of his nose and giving himself a second to take a deep breath while the elevator takes him down to the proper floor. “Jesus. Okay. I need, uh—give me a list of Peter’s injuries, Fri.”

“Of course, Mr. Keener.”

The list is sent to his tablet immediately, and it’s—extensive. Third degree burns and multiple shattered ribs and various bullet wounds, only some of which are clean through, meaning that there’s various bullets that they need to remove before Peter starts to heal around them. The more he reads, the faster his heart thunders in his chest while his mind automatically sorts through it to think of what needs to be prioritized, what to treat first, and how to keep Peter alive.

By the time he reaches Peter’s room, he has a game plan figured out, and he only falters for a short moment when he sees Peter on the hospital bed, writhing around and sobbing in pain. The rest of the medical staff in the room freeze, likely already aware that Helen put him in charge, and wait with bated breath.

“Alright,” Harley says, mostly to himself. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

—

Maybe it is a crush.

Harley is finding it hard to deny it now, as he sits beside Peter’s hospital bed, his hands feeling a little bit shaky where they’re clasped together and hanging between his knees. They had to undergo emergency surgery, and Peter’s heart had stopped four times throughout the procedure. Bringing him back had been the most panic inducing thing Harley has ever experienced in his life, and he couldn’t even show it because he was the one that was put in charge.

But they did, all four times —they got his heart going again and they got out all the bullets and treated all the burns and did everything they could to stabilized the broken bones. They gave him multiple IV’s, all of which he’s still attached to, and he hasn’t woken up since he passed out from the pain shortly after Harley’s arrival—and he passed out looking at Harley, too, with wide, pleading eyes that seemed to be begging for mercy, filled with agony and despair.

Harley would do anything to never have to see that look again.

“How’s he doing?” Helen asks, stepping into the room. She looks tired, undoubtedly exhausted from doing whatever she could to stabilize Tony just a few rooms down. Harley feels that exhaustion in his very bones.

“He’s gonna be fine,” Harley tells her. “Lost him a few times, though.”

Helen hums sympathetically. “But you got him back.”

Harley hesitates, then nods. “Yeah, we did.”

“Good,” Helen says, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You did good.” She stays like that for a moment, doesn’t move, and Harley appreciates the gesture but kind of wants to be alone. Maybe she senses that, because a moment later, she’s pulling her hand back and asking, “Are you staying here?”

“‘Til he wakes up,” Harley tells her.

Helen smiles at him warmly. “Make sure you get some rest, too, okay?”

Harley doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep until he sees Peter awake and talking again, but he still nods at her and says, “Yeah, alright.”

After Helen leaves the room, after it’s just Harley and Peter again, he finds himself reaching forward and taking Peter’s hand in his, and, other than the innocent brush of fingers when passing a coffee cup, this is the first time they’ve touched outside of Harley treating Peter’s wounds. It’s a bit of a startling realization, but Harley finds comfort in the contact, listens to the steady beeping of the heart monitor and starts to relax with the reassurance that he really did good, that Peter is going to be okay and Harley is the one that saved him.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but with that relief flooding his veins and Peter’s hand in his, he finds himself dozing off and doesn’t bother forcing himself awake.

—

At first, he doesn’t realize he’s waking up, his senses still muddled with sleep. It feels almost as if he’s floating in unconsciousness, warm and comfortable and—

“Harley?”

And he wakes with a jolt, eyes snapping open and instantly searching, only coming to a stop when they land on wide brown eyes looking right back at him. “Oh,” he breathes, blinking once and sitting up straight despite the way it makes his back complain. “Oh, my god. You’re awake.”

Peter tilts his head, just a little bit, and looks down at their intertwined fingers.

“Right. That.” Harley clears his throat and scrubs his free hand over his features, trying to wake himself up with a sheepish little smile. “It’s, um—not important, actually. How do you feel? Any pain, discomfort, anything like that?”

For a moment, Peter doesn’t respond, just keeps looking at their hands before rasping out a hoarse little, “’m kinda—kinda thirsty. M’throat hurts.”

Instantly, Harley gets to his feet and pulls open the mini fridge in the room to grab a bottle of water. He takes it back to Peter, hands it over, and feels somewhere stuck between doctor mode and something else, the worry and the uncertainty and the fear from hearing the flat line all mixing together until he feels nauseous with it. Peter accepts the water bottle gratefully, takes tentative sips from it and only winces slightly when he swallows it. “Better?” Harley asks.

Peter smiles, a bit small and tired, but just as genuine as always. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Harley murmurs, hovering by the chair he had been sitting in before. “Is there anything else? Just, like—anything at all? How do you feel?”

“Tired,” Peter tells him. “Like, um... groggy, y’know? And... out of it.”

Harley nods, a bit relieved that the dose of pain killers he chose was the right amount. “That’s to be expected. You were really roughed up, Pete.”

Peter frowns down at his water, brows knitting together. “What happened?”

“There was an ambush,” Harley tells him. “I guess Doc Ock was out and about, so you went to confront him and he got enough hits in to alert Tony, so he went to help you out, but Ock apparently teamed up with Rhino and they were able to catch you guys off guard and get the upper hand. Rhodey and a few others went to help out, but they didn’t get there in time to stop you guys from nearly getting killed, so, when you came in, it was... not pretty. But, you’re both gonna be fine.”

He wants to say that it’s not a crush. It can’t be a crush, isn’t supposed to be one, even if seeing the way Peter lets out a puff of air and relaxes back into his pillows is kind of a... not so bad sight. He looks tired and a bit beat up and a little too pale, but he’s good. He’s alive. Being alive looks good on him.

Maybe, Harley admits. Maybe it is a crush.

“Thank you,” Peter murmurs, head lulling back into the pillows. He holds out a hand and Harley isn’t sure what the action is for, but he doesn’t think before reaching forward and tangling their fingers together.

Harley clears his throat. “What for?”

“Not letting me die,” Peter says.

The mere idea of letting Peter die makes Harley’s heart stutter in his chest. “Of course,” he mumbles, a bit stricken. “I’ll always save you. It’s my job.”

Peter squeezes Harley’s hand, falls asleep with a sigh and a smile on his face.

Harley still doesn’t leave.

(It’s definitely, one hundred percent, a huge, gigantic crush, and maybe... maybe he’s okay with that. Maybe liking Peter Parker isn’t all that bad.)

#parkner #my writing #mild descriptions of injuries #non graphic near death experience

107 notes · View notes

thewnchstrs · 4 years

Text

Hold On

Pairing: DeanXreader

Summary: the life of a hunter becomes too much for Y/N to handle.

Disclaimers: really sad, suicide, arguing, death, mentions of severe depression, forced vomiting, overdose, angst

Word Count: 2.4K

M A S T E R L I S T

Based on the song ‘Hold On’ by Chord Overstreet

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The first thing I noticed when I pulled open the motel door was the silence, my hand freezing on the doorknob as my eyes scanned the room for Y/N.

I remembered calling her name, slowly shutting the door behind me when I called for her again. I let the duffel bag on my shoulder drop to the floor, my eyes scanning the room one last time when they landed on the bathroom door, a soft, glowing light pouring from under it.

In three long strides I was in front of it, banging on it with a closed fist, “Y/N, open the door!” When she didn’t respond, I took a few steps back, bringing my foot up and rearing it toward the lock, the door successfully swinging open.

I nearly dropped to my knees when I saw her, curled up in the corner of the room between the bathtub and the toilet, her arms cradling herself, an empty bottle of pain medication on the floor.

“Y/N!” I shouted, dropping in front of her, holding her head in my hands, slapping her cheeks, “Hey! Hey! C’mon, Y/N!”

When she didn’t respond, I racked my brain for anything, anything I could think of when only one thing came to mind. I pulled her close, leaning her over the bathtub as I supported her at the chest, inserting two of my fingers deep into the back of her throat. Within seconds, Y/N began to gag, a quiet whimper escaping her lips as she vomited into the tub, but not nearly enough for it all to have gotten out of her system.

“Atta girl,” I said as I scooped her up, racing out of the motel and to the car. I threw the passenger door open, setting her gently inside. I ran to the driver’s side, speeding out of the parking lot and down the highway, Baby’s tires squealing. I kept a hand on her as she leaned against the window.

“C’mon, baby, you’ve gotta stay with me,” I pleaded, my eyes flying from the road over to her where a soft noise seemed to come. I nearly slammed on the breaks as I turned to her.

“I’m s-sorry,” she whispered, her eyes still closed.

I pushed down on the pedal harder, the speedometer reaching just past seventy miles an hour. “Don’t say that, it’s going to be okay, you’ll be just fine.”

I shook her again, trying everything I could to keep her awake. “Hey, do you remember the first time we met?”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke, “I remember.”

“How you busted into that warehouse and saved me and Sam’s asses from those vampires?” I asked, looking over to her again, my heart pounding even faster than before as she grew more and more pale. “That’s when I fell in love with you, Y/N. I’m serious, I’d never believed in love at first sight, when I saw you- I knew I couldn’t live my life without you.”

“I…I love you, Dean,” she mumbled, just barely loud enough for me to hear it. I felt her weight grow heavier against my hand that was glued to her shoulder.

I gripped the wheel tighter, “Please don’t leave me, Y/N. Please…we’re almost there, stay with me!”

This time, she didn’t respond. I tried my hardest not to let my mind wander to that dark place, not to ask myself whether it was too late. I kept driving until I saw the large red sign on the side of the road. The car making tire tracks on the road as I swerved to the emergency entrance. I threw the door open, running to the other side where Y/N’s head laid limp against her chest. I pulled the door open, “It’s alright, baby, they’re gonna make you better. It’s gonna be alright.”

I ran into the hospital, her body so limp it made me sick to my stomach. I yelled for help, pleading as two nurses lead me into a room with a bed. I laid her gently on it, watching as they inserted an IV into her arm, talking loudly to each other. A doctor raced past me into the room, closing the curtain between me and Y/N.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I paced the length of the waiting room, ignoring the endless calls I was getting from Sam. I could hardly think straight, let alone explain what’d happened. Thoughts raced through my head, what I could’ve done better, how if maybe I’d gotten there sooner this wouldn’t have happened.

The voice of Y/N’s doctor filtered through the otherwise empty waiting room. I nearly ran to him. “Is she okay?”

The doctor sighed, trying to lead me to a chair to sit down but I pushed his hand away, watching him with wide eyes. “We did everything we could.”

“What…what’s that supposed to mean?” I asked in confusion. If they did everything they could, that meant she should be fine, right? She should be alive, right?

“The drugs Y/N took, she took so many that even after our procedure we couldn’t get them all out of her system. We’ve done everything we can, all we can do now is make her comfortable.”

I stepped back slightly, recoiling at his words, “So, that’s it? You’re just gonna let her…” I couldn’t even finish my sentence, not wanting to believe it. Anger began to bubble inside me. “She’s not gonna die. Not today, so you better turn around and go back in there until you’re one hundred percent certain she’s gonna walk out of here. Alive.”

The doctor looked slightly frightened, “We’ve worked for hours, we’ve gotten to a point where things are only getting worse.”

“Where is she?”

“Mr. Winchester-“

“Let me see her!” I roared, making the man step back slightly as he quickly led me through the swinging doors and up the two floors to her room where I stopped outside of her door, my hand on the doorknob. I closed my eyes, looking down at my hand that I had to keep from shaking as I pushed it open.

I tried not to focus on the machines around her, the only thing that was keeping her alive and anchored to her bed. I didn’t watch the way her chest unsteadily rose and fell, I didn’t pay any attention to the way she looked so small against that large bed.

I watched her, not daring to make a move toward her as if being near her made it final. I wasn’t going to let her die- I promised her that nothing bad would ever happen to her, not as long as I was around.

I found myself always telling people that. That nothing bad would ever happen to them as long as I was there, yet, time and time again I found myself sitting on the other side of death while everyone I loved seemed to cross that line much sooner than they had to.

I turned away from her, holding a hand over my mouth. There are only so many times a bad thing can happen before you start to wonder whether the bad thing started with you. This wasn’t supposed to happen, she was never supposed to go out like this.

“You told me you were getting better,” I said to her as if she could hear me. “You said you’d tell me if it got worse.” I turned back toward her now, really looking at her for the first time and it made my entire body feel like it was being held in a vice. “Now you’re gone and I…now I have to bury you?”

I clenched my jaw as I walked closer, anger and hatred toward the girl I’d loved for so many years filling me. I’d never felt this way toward her, never in a million years, no matter what she did or what she said could ever make me feel the way I felt toward her now. She said she was getting better. She told me, she promised me.

I gripped the end of the bed, my head hanging low between my shoulders as tears rolled down my nose and onto her blanket. “You said you would let me help carry some of the load,” my voice was softer now as my eyes trailed up to her. “That’s what I’m supposed to do, right? I can’t take away what was happening in you, Y/N but I could carry you. I would’ve carried you the whole damn way.”

I watched, willing her body to do something, anything. To pop up in that bed, trying and succeeding to scare the hell out of me. But she still laid motionless, her face pointed up toward the ceiling as if her body was watching her soul as it went away.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I drove back to the bunker in silence, the clear bag of Y/N’s belongings sitting next to me. She didn’t have much on her. Twelve dollars in cash, the small switchblade she always kept in her back pocket, the gold bracelet I’d gotten her for her birthday.

I knew how bad she’d been hurting. She told me months ago what it was doing to her, and we got through it. We pushed and pushed and eventually we’d made it out the other side, or so I thought. I knew that nobody went through this life unscathed and I made her promise to me that if she ever felt that way again, she’d come straight to me. She promised, and I believed her.

Before I’d even realized it, I had pulled up to the bunker, sitting motionless in the car. I pulled the keys from the engine, looking at the clear bag next to me. The last pieces of her.

I threw the car door open, leaving the bag in the passenger seat.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It took Sam exactly three days after we’d given her a hunter’s funeral when he came around asking questions. I’d found solace in the garage, tinkering with Baby the things that didn’t need tinkering with, breaking old parts in the other cars around the garage just to have an excuse to fix something.

I heard Sam before he said anything, his loud footsteps coming up from behind me as I worked under the hood of one of the long-forgotten cars in the Bunker. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.” I said, not turning to him. I heard him sigh, his feet shifting on the ground before he spoke again.

Sam cleared his throat, “Alright, let me rephrase that. When are you gonna talk about it?”

I pulled a wrench from the toolbox next to me before retreating under the hood, “I’m not.”

“Dean-”

“No, Sam,” I said, throwing him a look just over my shoulder as I went back to the car. “I…I can’t.”

“You have to, Dean. You can’t just bury this crap!” Sam began to raise his voice. I started tightening a bolt in the car tighter. “It’s gonna come out sooner or later and it’s not gonna be pretty when it does!”

I slammed the wrench down onto the workbench next to me, turning to Sam who’d jumped in surprise. “What do you want me to do, huh? You want me to cry? Want me to lay my head on your shoulder and tell you about my feelings?”

“I just want you to do something. Cry, get angry, do what you need to. But not this,” he said, gesturing around me. “Not…burying yourself in this garage. You can’t do it, it’ll kill you.”

I shook my head, “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

“Do you think this is what Y/N would’ve wanted?” Sam asked, calmer now. I picked up the wrench again, turning it in my hands.

“You think she was thinking about what I wanted when she killed herself, Sam!?” I nearly yelled. “You think, even for a second she thought about all the crap you and I would have to clean up after she was gone!? She wasn’t thinking, Sam. Not about you, not about me, not about anything! She wasn’t thinking about anybody other than herself.” My words surprised even me as I turned away from Sam, silence hanging in the air between us.

“How could you say that?”

“Yeah, well, it’s the truth.”

“Y/N was hurting, Dean. She was in pain. All the crap she’s been through- hell, who could blame her? And, I’m not saying what she did was right, but I know for a fact she loved you. She didn’t want to put whatever weight she was carrying on your shoulders.”

“Why? Why not let me help?”

“Because all you do is give to the point where there’s not enough let of you to carry yourself. She always told you that, remember? She always told you that giving what you didn’t have was what was going to get you killed one day. I think…I think from now on you need to take care of yourself, first-”

“Don’t make this about me.”

Sam sighed but nodded nonetheless, “I know you’re hurting. I know you miss her, I do too. But she wouldn’t want this for you.”

Sam turned, leaving me in the garage alone, my hand tightening on the wrench as I threw it across the room where it collided with a metal shelf, eliciting a loud clang throughout the room. I let Sam’s words hang in the air: you need to take care of yourself first. A thought so foreign to me it took me forever to process it. My whole life, I never looked after myself first, never even thought it.

“I’m sorry,” I said, wishing with everything I had that Y/N could hear me. “I’m sorry.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Forever Tag List

Dean Tag List

@mccartneywinchester | @resanoona | @blackglitteroldsoul

#dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural oneshot #dean winchester oneshot #supernatural #spn #spn oneshot #jensen ackles #deanxreader #winchester #dean #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic

107 notes · View notes

tonystarkissist · 5 years

Text

IronDad Bingo Fic #4

Trope: Clingy

Tony had been completely minding his own business when it happened. He was humming along to the low volume of KISS playing in his shop, being completely innocent and unprovoking. The music wasn’t loud in the least, thanks to Peter’s sensitive ears, and they were both doing their own thing. He didn’t even know what in the world had come over the kid to provoke him to do what he did.

So, yeah, he was just doing his own, peaceful, little thing, engrossed into his own little world - humming and tapping his foot to the beat while tinkering on a new robot arm for Dum-E - when he felt a large mass collide into his back. He pitched forward with a misstepped stumble and yelped loudly in surprise as he desperately tried to balance himself with the sudden weight clinging to his back.

In a moment of pure panic, fueled by his instinctual fight-or-fight instincts, he whirled himself around harshly, in an attempt to throw the intruder off his back. It didn’t work, but a round of unmistakable giggles erupting from the added mass of weight helped calm his overactive heart rate.

“Geez kid,” he groaned, voice laced with annoyance, hands busy rubbing down his face as he urged himself not to get frustrated.

Peter’s only response was another bout of giggles as he adjusted himself. His arms were draped neatly over Tony’s shoulder, clasping together firmly above the man’s collarbone, and his legs were wrapped tightly around the man’s waist.

“Kid, you’re gonna break my back. I’m too old for this,” Tony grumbled, turning back down to his project, assuming the kid would cut with the shenanigans and get off him. He usually listened…

“Aw, c’mon Mr. Stark. You’re no fun. You know you can hold my weight.” Peter laughed tightening his arms around Tony’s neck for emphasis as he adjusted himself into a position that wasn’t threatening the man’s sense of balance, which would result in them both keeling over. The genius felt a chin land harshly atop his head and he rolled his eyes at the childish action.

“I’m an old man Pete. I can’t carry the weight of an entire teenager, it’s not good for my bones.”

“Oh please,” Peter scoffed, “you and I both know I’m only like 70 pounds because of my hollowness. You bench much more than that.”

Tony rolled his eyes again and grabbed for a screwdriver lying across the table, finding it much easier to maneuver around than he would have thought with a 70lb weight hanging off his back.

“Plus,” Peter continued excitedly, “I’m conducting an experiment, and I know you can never say no in the name of science.”

“Yet, here you are still attached to my back instead of off doing that very thing.”

“This is my experiment Mr. Stark!” Peter laughed outright, right into his ear.

“So, you’re testing how quickly my patience runs out are ya?” Tony teased back, smiling as Peter presses his face into his hair to muffle the giggles.

“Nope! Shuri dared me that I couldn’t stick to something for a whole 24 hours, and I thought it might be a good hypothesis to test, y’know?”

“Hmm,” Tony hummed offhandedly, not quite piecing it together.

“So, instead of just sticking to a random wall for a whole 24 hours, I thought I might stick to something that moves so that I won’t get too bored staring at the same thing for so long. Plus you don’t like it when I climb on your ceilings so…”

“So you decided it was a good idea to latch onto my back?” Tony finished, arching his brow suspiciously. He didn’t like not being able to see the kid’s face.

“Yeah, Shuri thought it was a funny idea. She double-dog dared me to actually stick to you, and y’know, I can’t turn down a double-dog dare… Plus, she said she’d let me hang out in her lab if I actually did it and I just can’t pass up that kind of opportunity Mr. Stark.”

“Did she now?” Tony sighed, already resigning to his fate. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

“Yep,” Peter smiled, resting his chin atop Tony’s head again while he watched him work, “plus I get a piggy-back ride out of it.”

“How old are you?” Tony questioned patronizingly.

“Fifteen!” Peter answered proudly, flicking the underside of Tony’s chin just to annoy him.

“I figured as much,” Tony muttered under his breath, walking a few steps to his left to pull up a holographic screen. “Why didn’t you go stick to Cap? He’s better built for a 24-hour long piggyback ride.” It was a low blow, and Tony could practically hear the disgusted grimace from the kid.

“Na,” the boy answered, “Shuri said it specifically had to be you. She said she wanted to patronize you through me.”

“Figures.”

“Don’t be like that Mr. Stark,” Peter smiled, “this’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, sure, I don’t think so.”

***

It didn’t take much longer than an hour for Tony’s back to start feeling the effects. So, in an effort to keep the Spiderkid pleased, and to keep his back from completely giving out, he set up a weird, two seated stool type thing. He pulled the two stools together, and according to Peter it wouldn’t be cheating as long as he was still using his sticky powers to stay latched to his back, so they did that for another couple hours.

To be honest, Tony was actually surprised at the kid’s resilience. He would have predicted for Peter to have become bored by the two hour mark, but nope… the kid kept firm in his ambition. His legs remained wrapped around Tony’s waist as he sat in the stool behind him, and his arms dropped from his shoulders to circle around his chest as he slumped forward tiredly in the chair. By hour two, Peter’s forehead was nuzzled into the center of his spine as he snoozed, and Tony simply continued on tinkering, finding slight comfort in the small vibrations of Peter’s contented humms reverberating through his back.

By hour three, Peter’s soft snores and rhythmic humming came to an abrupt stop, which was followed by an insistent grumbling from his stomach.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter interrupted softly, using one of the arms wrapped around his chest to tap the tip of his finger on the man’s collarbone to get his attention.

“What’s up Pete? Finally gonna give up with this nonsense?”

“No,” Peter answered through a big yawn, “if you’re back’s feelin’ better, ‘m just a little bit hungry… whenever you got time.”

Tony shook his head humorously at the kid’s antics.

“Alright, just let me finish up with this real quick and we can head up for some dinner.”

“Kay,” Peter hummed softly, pressing his cheek back against Tony’s spine. “How long was I ‘sleep?”

“About two hours perhaps,” Tony answered noncommittally, standing from the seat slightly to reach across the table to grab the desired tool. Peter just went right along with him, without an inch of effort on either of their parts.

“Cool,” Peter mumbled, trying to repress the grin, “only 21 more hours to go.”

“You sound rather happy about that squirt,” Tony accused him.

“You are a really comfy pillow.”

***

They were approaching hour four rather quickly when Tony finally hobbled off the stool, with a snoozing Peter firmly attached to his back, and headed towards the elevator.

“The things I do for this kid,” he muttered under his breath, glancing down at the four limbs wrapped around his upper body and rolling his eyes. It was like wearing a ridiculously heavy backpack.

He strolled into the main Living Space, purposefully ignoring the strange looks he received from Rhodey and Sam sitting on the couches as he passed. Sam’s face was priceless, by the way. Utter shock and confusion was always a great combination.

“Uh, Tones,” Rhodey called out pointedly, not quite as surprised as Sam, but just about as confused.

“What’s up Honeybear?” Tony asked offhandedly, throwing open the fridge while Rhodey approached him and Peter from behind.

“Um, well,” Rhodey chuckled, “it looks like you gotta little passenger hitching a ride.”

“Oh yes,” Tony replied sarcastically, “how could I forget the 70 pound weight on my back?”

Rhodey raised an eyebrow at him and soon Sam was joining them in the kitchen, mouth agape as he stared at Peter snoozing against his back.

“Fine,” he muttered, turning to face them, “He wanted to do an experiment to see how long he could stick to something and Shuri dared him to stick to me for 24 hours. He’s bad at turning down dares, and I’m bad at putting my foot down when it comes to science.”

That reasoning seemed to appease Rhodey, and the man shrugged offhandedly before returning back to kitchen, but Sam just stared at him as if he were crazy… and he probably was honestly.

“Hey,” Tony addressed, turning slightly to expose his and the kid’s side to the man, “poke him a bit, would ya? I need to know what he wants for dinner.”

***

By hour six, Tony had found it was easier to carry the kid’s weight as long as he was moving. Peter also found easy ways to redistribute his weight to make the whole ordeal that much more comfortable for both parties. So, Tony just made sure to keep himself moving around his workshop when he wasn’t sitting on the stool.

Then, Peter had somehow convinced him to take a visit down to the gym. ‘Change of scenery’ and all that. So, at hour seven, Tony found himself doing pushups and throwing measly punches at a bag in the corner of the room. It was strange similar to wearing the suit without any the extra strength. Which… wow, made it a major workout for sure. Turned out, adding seventy pounds to your body weight while trying to do pushups decreased your reps by almost half. It was nice having his own personal cheerleader though.

That sucked up about another hour of their time, and Tony was feeling exhausted yet invigorated all the same. It left him sweaty and breathless, and Peter fanboying over his abilities without the suit.

But that led to another problem at hour 8 and a half.

“Peter I have to take a shower. I’m all sweaty and stinky, do you really want to stick to a stinky old man for the next 16 hours? Didn’t think so. Off you get.”

“Aw, c’mon, Mr. Stark. That’s breaking the rules. I have to stick to something for a complete 24 hours.”

“Well, you should have thought of that before you rushed me down to the gym.”

“I was bored!” Peter defended with a squeaky lilt to his voice, “I wanted a change of scenery.”

“Well, you got it. Now stick to something else for the 10 minutes it takes me to shower. It’s not technically cheating your experiment, and I won’t tell Shuri if you don’t.”

“Fine,” Peter grumbled.

Tony rolled his eyes and backed himself up to the far wall in his bedroom. Peter’s limbs slowly detached from him and he pulled away, rolling his shoulders and turned to look at the pouting child. It was hilarious.

“Ooh, feels good,” Tony joked, giving an exaggerated stretch to his free arms and shoulders, “no spiderkid to carry around.”

Peter glared at him, and Tony grabbed clean clothes before retreating into the bathroom to take his shower.

***

Hour eleven rolled around and it was nearly two in the morning. Peter was slouching against him again, and Tony was back at it in his workshop. He was used to long binges with days without sleep, so it wasn’t a very big change of pace for him. The only problem that arose was his need to sit on the dual stool every hour or two to rest his back. He swears there will be muscles he never even knew existed sprouting soon. Pepper was sure going to have some fun with that.

Peter fell asleep almost right at the halfway mark and Tony was only slightly impressed by the spidery powers still going strong. By then he was already used to the constant contact, and he was honestly becoming quite curious as to how long the kid was able to stick to something, and he wasn’t about to give up when they were already halfway through. Peter just slouched against him again, arms wrapped over his shoulders, and chin digging into the space joining his neck and shoulder while Tony was standing in front of the holographic screens. When he sat in the stools, the kid would almost melt down his back. His arms fell from his shoulders and wrapped beneath his arms, across his chest, and his cheek found its spot against his spine.

He slept for a good straight 3 to 4 hours before Tony accidentally woke him with a loud bang. He’d dropped a heavy piece of machinery, startling both him and the kid from his sleep. He scrambled in surprise just enough to have Tony himself pitching forward at the sudden misdistribution of their combined weight. He braced himself against one of his lab tables while Peter calmed down. Then the kid apologized profusely before Tony was sitting back in the stool, coaxing him back to sleep, and soon the soft purr-like humms were back to vibrating against his back.

At hour sixteen, Peter was still asleep, and Tony was ready for breakfast. It was seven in the morning, which meant Steve was up and already cooking. So Tony thought it would be the perfect time to sneak up and steal two platefuls before all the food disappeared.

He opened his mouth wide to release a big yawn as he stepped out of the elevator onto the main floor. Then glanced around at the random placement of his teammates lounging comfortably in the large room.

“Good morning Stark!” Thor boomed loudly, startling Tony out of his wits and causing Peter to stir momentarily against his back.

“Shhh,” Tony urged angrily, pressing an index finger to his lips. “The kid’s sleeping. Hush.”

The admittance drew the attention of everyone else in the room, and they all turned to stare.

He had to admit… it must have been an odd sight. They’d only met Peter a handful of times, and none of them knew about his spider-powers yet. What an odd sight indeed.

“Is that-is that um... Peter?” Steve questioned warily, raising an eyebrow suspiciously as Tony rounded the counter and approached the mountain of food the man had cooked up.

“Yep, he’s testing out an experiment right now. Leave him alone, he’s asleep, and he’s quiet. It’s peaceful.”

“You’re just… um… carrying him around on your back?” Clint questioned from his perch on the counter.

“Yeah. Got a problem with it?” Tony snarked without looking away from the coffee pot he was tampering with.

“Nope,” Clint hurriedly defended, “no problem.”

“Great. Be a pal and fix him a big ol’ plate, huh Cap?” Tony instructed, piling on the eggs and bacon onto his own plate before shovelling it into his mouth.

“Uh-uh yeah sure.”

By the time Steve was done fixing the plate, Tony had already cleared his. He traded with the supersoldier, shoving his newly dirtied plate into his confused hands, and grabbing both the plate and mug of coffee before turning to exit the room.

“Hey, Tones,” Rhodey called nonchalantly from the Dining table, as if the sight of a child stuck to the genius’ back was a completely normal appearance. And considering the odd things Rhodey’s caught them doing in the past, this really wasn’t very outlandish. “When are you free from the kid’s experiment. DC wants me and you for a quick debrief this evening.”

“I’m off at 3:07 I think.”

“Great, meeting at 5 then. Don’t forget.”

Tony shot him a mock salute before scampering over to the elevator with Peter still peacefully asleep on his back.

***

Peter finally awoke at hour eighteen. It was a slow process.

Tony first noticed the wiggling and slight stretching about 10 minutes before he actually awoke. Then, he heard the distinct sound of smacking lips and annoyed grunts as he attempted to stretch his limbs, which led to him knocking the screwdriver out of Tony’s hand a couple times. Soon, the kid was sighing and nuzzling his face into his shoulder blade to hide from the morning light.

“Welcome back to the land of the living kid,” Tony laughed, taking a seat on his stool.

“Hng,” Peter grumbled irritatedly.

Not a morning person apparently.

***

Peter wasn’t fully awake and ready to start the day until hour nineteen. He devoured the food Tony left out for him using one hand and he immediately jumped back into his excitable, talkative self once food was in his belly.

“What time is it now Mr. Stark?”

“We’re still going strong at 19 hours kiddie if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“So, only five more hours then?”

Tony could have sworn he sounded sad, but his ears were probably just playing stupid tricks on him again.

“Yep, five more hours until we’re both free.”

Peter just rested his chin on top of Tony’s head, curled against his back, watching as the man messed around with the holographic images in front of them, coffee in one hand, and his tablet in the other. Peter put in his input where it was needed, and the small project kept them both occupied for another hour or so.

***

By hour 21, Peter was bored again, and Tony wasn’t having it.

“C’mon Mr. Stark,” he whined, “pleeaaasse?”

“No,” Tony snapped with an air of finality, “I’m already letting you cling to me for a straight 24 hours. I am not going to run around like an idiot and give you a freaking ‘legit piggyback ride’. You’re fifteen not five, now shush and let me do my work.”

“Whatever Dad,” Peter sassed, rolling his eyes. He plopped his chin on the man’s shoulder and pouted for a good ten minutes while Tony worked.

“Oh my god. Fine!”

“Yes!”

***

Everyone probably thought he was crazy, for sure. It was time for lunch already, and Peter was fully awake, excited and completely jittery. He was practically vibrating, and Tony knew because he could feel it. The vibrations were reverberating against his chest and he could almost feel himself get a bit nauseous at the constant motion.

He’d admit they were eating lunch fairly late… but Peter had had a late breakfast, so at 2:00, they were both ready for a proper meal.

And it just so happened that everyone decided to be lazy that day and hang around reading, drawing or… apparently playing go fish?

Peter didn’t seem to notice the mass of nosey ears that tuned into their conversation when they entered. He rambled on about his recent science adventures in Chem class and the ridiculous questions that were brought up in his Calc class, and Tony nodded along.

“Still going at it I see?” Natasha smirked, looking up from her book to smile warmly at the pair.

“Woah! Hey!” Peter’s eyes bugged out when he saw the group on the couch. “What’s up guys?”

Tony rolled his eyes and started shuffling into the kitchen, wincing at the uncomfortable pinch that had developed in his lower back. He only had another hour to go though, so he could deal with it.

“Hi Peter,” Natasha responded, her mischievous grin growing along her face. Tony glared at her, but Peter seemed indifferent to it, throwing himself right back into his in depth explanation about Ned’s new Lego Star Wars set. Completely oblivious to the fact that it might be considered a little weird for a fifteen year old intern to be getting what looked to be a ‘piggy-back’ ride from his mentor.

Tony swore the team didn’t stop staring.

***

“3:07” Tony announced quickly, “off you get kid.” He rolled his shoulder a bit for emphasis.

Peter grumbled as he slowly climbed off of the man’s back, and Tony moaned happily at the release of tension.

“Don’t sound so happy about it, geez.” Peter sounded offended as he stretched his own limbs.

“Oh please,” Tony scoffed, “I carried your weight, literally, for an entire 24 hours. Any person would be happy to weigh 70 pounds less.” He rolled his neck around in a slow circle, then bent his back backwards to stretch out the muscles. “You coulda started me out at just an hour or two at least before dumping the entire 24 hour pack on me. Goodness kid, I’m gonna feel this all week.”

“Sorry.” Peter actually sounded a bit sheepish.

Tony turned around to look at the apologetic kid wringing his hands together while he stared down at his socked feet.

“I-I didn’t mean to hurt you or make you uncomfortable.”

“Don’t sweat it kid,” Tony smiled reassuringly, “I’d go through a lot more for the sake of a dare… or science.”

“Dare?” Peter asked confusedly, cocking his head to the side.

Tony narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. “Yes… Shuri’s dare… the whole reason you had to stick to me instead of something normal or reasonable... like a wall.”

“Oh,” Peter muttered, eyes widening, “oh yes! Of course! I don’t know how I forgot.”

“Sure,” Tony muttered suspiciously. “Now, why don’t you go skedaddle and go share your findings with your pal. I’ll vouch for you if you need it.”

“Oh! Yeah, okay, sure!” Peter stumbled, grinning slightly as he scampered out of the room with a quick wave and shout of ‘thanks’.

***

Tony didn’t find out the whole truth until weeks later after the effects of the incident had worn off his back and shoulders.

He had called Shuri for some input on his new suit design, and somehow the subject of Peter had come up.

“So, did you feel good sticking a 70 pound kid to my back for a whole day?” Tony joked offhandedly for sake of conversation while he inputted variables into his suits coding.

“Excuse me? What nonsense are you talking about this time Stark?” She questioned incredulously.

Tony blinked and turned to stare at the screen.

“The experiment… the dare,” he responded slowly, studying her face for any flicker of recognition. “The experiment to find out how long Peter can stick to something… a week ago.”

Shuri’s face lit up at that. “Oh that! The one where he dared himself like an idiot? I swear he is such a dork,” Shuri laughed a little before looking back at the screen. “Where did he stick? A wall? The ceiling? I’m curious; he wouldn’t tell me the details.”

Tony slowly processed. Then his face hardened and his gaze snapped over to the overturned backpack slung across the kid’s designated desk.

“That little brat… he coulda just asked.”

So, this one was lots of fun!! Thanks for reading! And thank you again @irondadbingo for the bingo card! :)

#irondad fic #irondad #tony stark #iron man #peter parker #tony stark is a softie #peter parker is too pure #peter parker is a dork #tony stark is such a dad #clingy peter #piggyback rides #tony stark is so done with peter parker

370 notes · View notes

tarithenurse · 4 years

Text

Orphan - 7

Starring: Fem!Reader and MCU characters! Contents: Spoilers for Endgame!! Playing with an idea for a pairing with Reader, so feel free to send asks if you want a say in it (no promises though). Some serious stuff. Some sad stuff. A/N: PREVIOUS CHAPTERS can be found on the masterlist. Thanks for likes and reblogs and comments <3

7. Bittersweet

Tired to the bone but unable to sit still. Ever since Clint told you last night that Pepper Potts-slash-Stark would be visiting today, you haven’t been able to relax let alone sleep. Throughout the night, you’d been tossing and turning along with the millions thought buzzing around in your brain like a swarm of pesky flies. Why’s she coming? You had imagined a simple, official letter from some office or maybe a phone call from a lawyer. Maybe.

Now the woman is on the way to the Barton family’s farm, and you’ve figuratively worn through the soles of the boots from all the pacing. First in the little bedroom, then through the entire house before you escaped to the barn.

Fingers trace lines in the thick layer of dust of Deere’s grooves, mixing with the residue of oil trapped in your finger whirls – no amount of scrubbing is enough, but Laura doesn’t seem to mind. Passing by the front, one of the ancient headlights is still sitting crooked after you changed the bulb, and your hands automatically busy themselves with the little task still left before the M-model would be presentable after too many years of misuse. It feels good to fix the tractor, to give it a chance to do what it’s made for instead of sitting useless, cooped up in some dusty place without a purpose. Machines need something to do…just like humans.

It’s not long before your attention is fully focused on the wiring for the electrical starting, mind at ease as it has tuned in to the ideas of its creators from the late 40’ies. There’s a clear logic to their work which you now admire, trying to respect it as you peel away the old copper with fabric wrapping so stiff it might actually break. There might be a thin layer of aluminum in between but honestly, you’re not sure, and you become enthralled with the task of figuring out the system to the point that you don’t hear the barn door opening or the muted sound of high heels treading easily across the uneven floor.

“Miss [Y/L/N],” a female voice suddenly interrupts your work, clear and demanding, “can I have a word with you?”

Here we go. You manage to sneak a glance down yourself, grimacing at the dirt already adorning your sweater and jeans – not to mention your hands even after you wipe them in an old cloth – before you turn to stand face to face with Tony Starks widow. Her entire posture screams self-esteem. This is a woman, who has worked hard and knows exactly what sort of respect she deserves, someone stubborn enough to deal with NY’s former most notorious playboy. Even with dark circles around the eyes and sunken cheeks, Virginia Pepper Potts is a force of nature.

Silence stretches until it becomes unbearable, making you want to flee rather than do as you do: “Hi there, Mrs…Stark?”

“I…I kept my maiden name…” she trails off, gaze dancing between your dirty hands and your face.

You know she’s trying to find the similarities. Damn it, you’ve spent hours in front of mirrors doing the same, suddenly recognizing where you got your eyes from or the lopsided smile when something quietly amuses you.

“So…erm…I didn’t expect…” The words just don’t want to cooperate. “What can I do?”

“Right.” The pale woman manages to shake herself out of the stupor. “I understand you’ve not wanted to claim any inheritance now that…after…” Tears pool in her eyes regardless of the furious blinking, but Potts manages to hold them back. “I’ve been told you merely wanted to…see if it was right?”

Lamest reason ever, typical me. “I gueeess that’s the best way to put it,” you admit, “little too late but…” Flailing your arms, in the hopes the broken sentence makes sense.

“And what do you think?”

“Dunno…might just be ‘cause I’m looking for any resemblance and the wake…there was a lake in between…”

“But…”

There’s nothing accusatory about the question. In fact, it almost sounds kind as if she might care about your feelings. Why should she? An adult appears out of the blue, claiming to be the dead husband’s kid – it isn’t exactly something that people would want to deal with, she has every right to be on guard. But I just wanted to know….want to know if it’s true. Not to take anything from her or the daughter, Morgan, just to find some peace. Sneaking in on the draught is a chilled sense of righteousness, screaming at you that wanting to figure out your past isn’t a crime. With no way of moving forward it had made sense to look back, to search for some anchor to steady yourself by while the maelstrom of insecurity keeps trying to pull you in and drown you.

“Look,” you begin authoritatively, “I get I could’ve gone ‘bout this a million other ways if I’d had the right support or whatever, but I didn’t trespass…didn’t intend to interfere.” A delicate reddish eyebrow raises slowly but doesn’t deter you. “So it was foolish to turn up ‘cause what I needed to know wouldn’t be obvious even then, but it’s the closest I could get to anything…maybe feel something? I dunno how I thought I’d get the answers I needed. Need. Perhaps I’d’ve walked away without being any wiser if I hadn’t seen his…your daughter. Morgan.” Now both eyebrows have reached the hairline and the sharp eyes could freeze you on the spot. With a hammering heart, you try to explain: “You’ve got the files. You’ve seen the baby pictures of me. You know what I mean.”

For a few treacherous seconds, it’s as if Pepper Potts might end you then and there. But her entire demeanour changes, crumbles in on itself with a sigh as she sits down on an upturned barrel nearby. The barn creaks a bit as it settles under the weight of the snow. A few mice run through a sprinkle of blown away leaves or straw in a corner, but you can’t see them when you look. You’re still wringing the oily cloth between your fingers. Then you hear the sniffle, forcing you to look at the woman holding the secret of your past.

“Morgan…you…” Pepper hiccups into a neat handkerchief, “you look like T-Tony…a lot. But but you even s-sound like and to see you-u working on…”

A vague gesture towards the tractor behind you somehow manages to encompass everything from oil, tools, no, the whole concept of tinkering with machines lies within the unspoken words and hits you harder than expected because now you realize that you might have inherited more than Tony Stark’s looks. What else? Truth is, though, regardless which traits are similar…you will never get to see for yourself: the guy’s dead, apparently leaving two kids behind and a widow to try to deal with it all. What a jerk.

A tiny, broken laugh escapes Pepper. “I know that look too…you’re fee-eeling oh so righteous about something, not just for yourself. If you got the chance, like Tony, you’d try to find some way to fix it for everyone.”

“I don–“

“It’s okay, [Y/N].” Your name sounds oddly easy on her lips. Perhaps she notices too because she blushes. “Not everything can be…fixed…not without losing something else.”

There is no need to spell it out. Tony Stark helped sort the biggest mess in Earth’s history by not just undoing the Snappening but by ending the purple space-grape called Thanos. The bill for a repair like that is massive. The news of course are focused on the grander issues from the fall out such as the millions of homeless people and the food shortage now that there’s double the mouths to feed. But on a smaller scale people are still reeling from the shock, some mourn those that will never return. Tony Stark. Natasha Romanoff. There are more. Bright memories burning holes in the hearts of loved ones sitting behind.

What if they could be brought back too? If Clint could have his best friend again, or Morgan could have her dad? If I could…?

“Don’t start down that rabbit hole.” Pepper is somehow right before you, hands reaching for you shoulders slowly as if afraid you might not want to be touched, that you will run off. “It never ends. There’s no peace if you start.” The touch is light while the words are heavy.

Teeth dig sharply into the inside of your cheek before you can talk. “What…what should I do?” I’m not gonna cry now!

“Up to you…but maybe you’ll consider coming for a visit to begin with?”

…

By the time Clint comes over to fetch you for dinner, Pepper Potts has been gone for hours and the tractor’s old wiring is lying in a bundle on the work bench ready to be stripped and rewrapped after the rest of the repairs are sorted.

“Hm…guess it’s really happening,” the Avenger grumbles kindly, “the old machine’s gonna run.”

“It’s gonna take some more work, but yeah,” you smile even if only the engine can see it.

At least you can fix this. A small thing to be set right in the middle of a ruined world. Maybe you can repair more things – not just for the Bartons but for the others too? Rhodey’s legs had been whining, and there’s probably a lot of –

“Hey! You listening?”

Clint’s outburst makes you bump your head against the rust-spattered metal. Oops. The thought is repeated when you realize you’re rubbing the growing bump with your oily hand.

“What?”

“Goddamn it…are all Starks grease-heads?”

It stings and warms your heart simultaneously. “Dunno. What did I miss?”

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do with your life, ‘kay?” The mirth has drained from the eyes, making his alias seem extra fitting. “But I’d suggest you come inside…there’s food and other guests.”

“Who?”

“Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.”

24 notes · View notes

thesoundofnat · 5 years

Text

Still fixing all the cracks

ENDGAME SPOILERS AHEAD

Summary: When May reappears after the snap, it’s in front of a moving car. She survives, but needs to stay at the hospital for a while. Where else is Peter supposed to go but to stay with Pepper, Tony and Morgan?

A/N: I turned an angsty prompt from @insane-sociopath slightly less angsty by having May (and Tony!) survive. I hope you like it!

Warnings: Endgame spoilers, nightmares, hints at trauma and PTSD.

Words: 2 100

Tony had known May Parker had vanished after the first snap, and as awful as it sounded he’d been grateful for it. The pain he’d been feeling after Peter had turned to dust, disappeared right in front of him, had almost broken him. He couldn’t imagine how May would’ve felt, losing someone who was her own flesh and blood. If he was to lose Morgan now he was certain he’d go insane.

Not that his love for Peter was any less because of their lack of a blood relation. He would still kill and die for that kid.

Point was, he was grateful May hadn’t had to go through it. It hadn’t been fun.

“Mr Stark?”

Waking up at the hospital, a model of a prosthetic arm on a table across from him courtesy of Bruce, had been jarring. Partly due to the pain and the drugs, but he’d been so sure he was hallucinating Peter being back for the first couple of days that he’d hated his brain for doing that to him.

“How am I alive?” had been his first sentence. The second a demand to see Pepper and Morgan, even though Pepper had been sitting next to him, her trembling hand holding his own. Only something like this could’ve turned Tony Stark into a confused mess, Rhodey had joked, his eyes wet.

“Mr Stark?”

Tony’s body had barely been in any shape to keep his heart going. They all called him a miracle. A once in an existence type of survival.

“I did it for you, you know,” Tony had said to no one in particular, because truly it didn’t matter. It hadn’t mattered and it would never matter.

“I’m so mad at you,” Pepper had said one evening or morning or midafternoon (Tony hadn’t been keeping track). “You could’ve died.”

Tony had smiled, or at least had tried to smile. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“The worst part is that, if you hadn’t done it, you would’ve lived with that regret for the rest of your life.”

“I can’t seem to calm down, can I?”

Pepper had stroked his face. “I’m sure you’ll be calm now.”

“Mr Stark?”

“Hmm?”

Peter - the actual real life alive Peter - must’ve said his name at least three times before he’d realized. Tony focused his gaze on him; took in the tears streaming down his face. “Shit, Pete-”

“It’s nothing bad!” Peter said, sniffling, panicked, voice too loud in the quiet hospital room. “It’s just… well, Aunt May reappeared and-”

Shit, shit, shit.

“An accident and-”

How the hell could life take away the last blood relative that precious kid had?

“She’ll be out in a couple of weeks and-”

“Wait, hold on, back up.”

Apparently May had vanished into dust in the car and reappeared in front of another one, breaking several bones as Earth had welcomed her back. Typical. She’d be fine, but she was going into surgery and wouldn’t be able to leave the hospital for a while.

“I don’t know why I’m such a mess,” Peter said, still his rambly self, after everything.

Tony, only days into his new life post snap, blinked at him. It was, unfortunately, all he managed before the drugs knocked him out again.

When he woke Pepper had made a decision for all of them.

“He’s staying with us until his aunt is back on her feet,” she said. Tony didn’t protest. Why would he?

“I could just crash at Ned’s,” Peter said for the hundredth time, but Pepper shushed him. Tony could tell she’d handle teenage Morgan with no trouble.

By the time Tony got to go home, Peter had been staying there for two weeks already. May’s condition, though not entirely life threatening, had been worse than they’d thought. Peter tried to not let it show how worried he was, for some reason, but it was all but written on his face. Tony, weak and constantly exhausted, felt so helpless he nearly cried.

“I like him,” Morgan said, the two of them alone in Tony’s bedroom, just about avoiding spilling the juice of their melting popsicles onto the bed sheets.

“He’s nice, eh?”

“Very. He makes me laugh.”

“Ah, a comedian. Maybe I just never appreciated his weird gen Z humor.”

Morgan didn’t provide his to her strange remark with any response. Tony had to resist the urge to wrap her in his arms every other minute. As close as they were, he was sure she’d start getting annoyed at him eventually.

He had no idea how much she knew. How close he and the world had been to being entirely ruined. He prayed to god she had no clue, but she was smarter than any kid he’d met (and to be fair, than some adults as well).

If she knew, she hadn’t told him.

“What do you think about him staying with us?” Tony asked her, attempting to sound casual.

“I think it’s fun.”

“But do you miss it just being us?”

“A little,” she said, swallowing the last of her ice cream. “But it’s okay. I like him and he needs us. That’s what mommy said.”

“Mommy’s right, you know.”

“She says he’s like your son.”

Tony doubted Pepper had worded it like that, but he tilted his head anyway. “I care about him.”

“Why did he never come visit before?”

Crap.

“He was away, for a bit.” Tony smiled, ignoring the sudden rush of emotions. “I’m happy you finally got to meet him.”

“Mr Stark, you have a daughter.”

“Yes, Pete, we’ve established that.”

Morgan’s feeling toward Peter were nothing compared to Peter’s delight and utter surprise at Tony having put a child into the world (or well - Pepper). Every so often, usually after Tony and Morgan had interacted in any way, Peter would repeat these words. Tony wasn’t sure if he should be offended at the awed tone or not.

“How was it?”

“How was what?”

“When she was being born?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure you’re asking the wrong parent here.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I mean, how were you feeling?”

Tony shrugged. “I was a complete mess, to be honest. Crying and laughing and pacing all over the place. When I first got to see her-” He broke off, clearing his throat. “It was the best moment of my life.”

Peter’s smile could light up the whole goddamn world. “I wish I had been there.”

Tony reached for him, pulling him into a half-hug. “Me too, kid. Me too.”

“But I’m here now, and I’m gonna be the best- uh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What were you about to say?”

Peter had turned red. “I was gonna say big brother, but I felt like- well, I didn’t want to-”

“Of course you’re her big brother, you nerd.”

“Oh.”

Tony snorted. “Well, she did call you my son.”

“Did you correct her?”

“Nah.”

This time Peter’s beaming face was turned downward, bashful.

Tony ruffled his hair. “Come on. Let’s go make the queens of the house some dinner, shall we?”

The weeks of Peter’s stay had some dark moments, mostly consisting of Tony’s body not cooperating or Pepper’s heart breaking all over again if she remembered almost losing him or Tony thinking of the moment Peter turned to dust, over and over. It was sleepless nights and trips to the hospital for check ups and visits and all the while Peter feeling guilty for enjoying his stay when his aunt was alone in an empty room.

“You’re there about 90% of your days,” Tony told him. “She doesn’t expect you to do more. In fact, I think she’d kick both your ass and mine if I allowed you to sleep in those torture devices to chairs.”

Tony went to visit her without Peter at times, when he was in school. They didn’t say much because it wasn’t needed.

“I’m sorry you had to spend five years without him,” May said one day, her hand gripping Tony’s perpetually trembling one. The prosthetic one was steady.

“We fixed it,” he said, voice hoarse and slightly too quiet.

“I’m so glad you did.”

“We lost some along the way,” he added, his mind on Natasha, as it often was.

May gave his hand a squeeze. They didn’t speak again for a while.

Having a teenage superhero in the house meant helping them with - and forcing them to do - homework and making them promise to not be out to late and “no, Pete, Spider-Man isn’t needed tonight.” Maybe he was being hypocritical, but at least he could laugh at each look Pepper shot him whenever he reprimanded Peter for things he’d probably done himself.

It also meant running into him when they were both wandering the house in their sleepless states, both confused, both feeling too much with no relief in sight. Tony had been surprised seeing Peter the first night, but, despite his saying he had nothing to make him feel like this really because the snap hadn’t lasted five years for him, Tony couldn’t blame him.

“I’m sure it was traumatic in ways you can’t explain,” Tony said, remembering the hysteria just before he vanished. “And to be fair, the whole goddamn battle was a mess. I’d be worried if you weren’t having trouble sleeping, as much as I wish you didn’t.”

“Does it hurt a lot?” Peter asked then, eyes on Tony’s trembling arm.

“This? Nah. It’s just my body not being as strong anymore. It’s getting better.” Tony hadn’t told any of them of the times he’d entered his lab trying to create something only for him to scream in frustration and not go back in days. His prosthetic arm was working just fine, but the rest of him, parts he’d gotten so used to using whenever he built or tinkered around, were still recovering. That was what Tony said, at least. No one had promised him his old body back. He reckoned he couldn’t really expect them to lie so awfully to him.

“I’ve never been as scared as I was when I saw you sitting there, arm practically crumbling-” Peter cut himself off. “Sorry. Jesus. You probably don’t wanna hear about that.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Talk.”

“I can’t.”

Tony understood.

Some nights, Morgan found them, blinking up at them in the light of the kitchen, confused. “Daddy?”

“Hey, pumpkin, why aren’t you in bed?”

“Why aren’t you?”

And Peter would grin, whenever the tiny little four year old would be smart with her genius father. Tony’s heart was never as full as it was in those moments.

And then, it was over. May, recovered, got to go home and bring Peter with her. They all knew it had been coming.

“You’re sad, aren’t you?” Pepper said the first night without him.

Tony nodded. “A bit. It’s silly.”

“It’s not.”

“Maybe not.”

“You can visit him this time, you know.”

Tony laughed, so loudly he must’ve startled Morgan, wherever she was in the house. “I know.”

“I’m gonna miss having him in the house,” Pepper said. “It wasn’t the same being in the Tower or the Compound. People feel so much closer here.”

“It’s because this is a normal house, which apparently is what normal people live in.”

Pepper laughed. “Domesticity suits you.”

“I try.”

“I know.”

She always did.

“How are you?” Peter asked a couple of weeks later. They hadn’t seen each other since he’d gone back home.

“Me? Doing better. How’s May?”

“She’s doing much better.”

“And how are you?”

Peter didn’t reply immediately, eyes finding the street they were walking next to. “I’m doing all right, mostly.”

“Ah.”

“No new nightmares.”

“But old ones?”

“Always the same ones.”

“I know the feeling.”

If Tony could take all of Peter’s pain and trauma, he would, but he knew that wasn’t possible, so he did the next best thing.

“Let’s grab some ice cream. I think that daughter of mine has made me addicted to that stuff.”

Peter laughed. “I miss her.”

“Well, then I think it’s about time you come visit her, hm?”

“Just say when and I’ll be there.”

“No need. You can show up whenever you want, as long as it isn’t in the middle of the night. Unless it’s an emergency, of course.”

“You say that now, but I bet you’ll raise an eyebrow at me when I walk in on your date with Pepper.”

“As if we won’t have enlisted you to babysit Morgan to begin with.”

“Happy won’t be happy. Hah, that was unintentional.”

“Happy will have to learn to share his duties.”

They were gonna be okay.

#tony stark #peter parker #tony and peter #iron dad and spider son #post endgame fix it fic #post endgame #fix it fic #pepperony #avengers fic #mine #nat writes #endgame #still fixing all the cracks #iron fam

108 notes · View notes

no-goddamn-cilantro · 5 years

Text

I've got you, Kid

Or, five times in which Tony Stark has his kid's back, and one time where his kid has him.

*One*

"Hey Penis! Penis Parker! Going to your pretend internship tonight?" Peter heaves a long, slow sigh, hitching the straps of his backpack up a little more comfortably onto his shoulders and attempts to ignore the irritating bully, increasing his pace to the exit. Alas, if nothing else can be said about Flash Thompson, it's that he's persistent.

"I bet it's just an excuse for you to hide that you don't have any friends besides that weird Ned kid." The boy in question takes this opportunity to rise to the bait and while Peter appreciates the continued staunch support of his best friend, on days like today he's nothing short of exhausted. Patrol went way past curfew and he just knew Mr. Stark was going to have something to say about it.

"Peter's internship is real! You're just jealous he gets to spend time with The Avengers." Peter could actually hear the capital letters on the Avengers and he felt a tension headache begin in one temple. Before Flash could continue berating him for the internship, Peter escapes out the door and makes a beeline for where Happy is normally waiting for him. Instead of the SUV with staid coloring, a familiar orange Lamborghini sits with the genius owner of it casually leaning against the passenger door. A single eyebrow ticks up as he meets Peter's eye.

"What's up kid? You ready for the conference this weekend?" One blink, then two. No, Peter isn't hallucinating. Mr. Stark is really here to pick him up from school. In front of God and Flash and everybody and oh my God Mr. Stark is here. Peter's grin lit up his whole face and he bounded over to the car in four long strides.

"Mr. Stark! Yeah, I-I think I've got everything," a little breathless, Peter continues to grin at his mentor, a thousand words jockeying for space in his brain and exactly zero getting air time. Mr. Stark pushes off from the side of the car and saunters around to the driver's side, leaving Peter to scramble to get in and shut the door.

Once they're on the road headed to the compound, Peter breaks the companionable silence.

"Hey Mr. Stark?"

"what's up Underoos?"

Slight hesitation, then a very quiet, "How did you know?"

With a deliberately casual handwave and shrug, the genius billionaire gives a breezy, "That guy in the chair of yours- Ted? Ed? Bread?- is pretty protective of you. I notice these things." Peter's face blooms with a mortified blush and buries his face in his hands. Chuckling, his mentor reaches over with one hand and runs his fingers through the teen's hair, disguising the gentility with a playful ruffle.

"Hey. I've got you, kid. I wish you'd talked to me about this stuff before, but you know I've always got you."

The warm glow in Peter's chest kept him warm all weekend.

*Two*

"-and son, I need you to come along in wave two with Widow and Falcon and work on webbing 'em up while they fall. Let's try to minimize property damage if we can, but civilian safety come first." Peter zoned back in just in time to hear his part, giving the Captain a jaunty wave in acknowledgement before shooting a web to the nearest building, waiting for the orange and green... Giant frogs? Giant frogs, ranging in size from an oven to a Buick, crawled out of the wormhole between two buildings and began attempting to... What was that?

"Uh... Mr. Captain America sir? Are they eating the road? And the cars?"

Over the comms comes the somehow both angry and delighted voice of Hawkeye. "You're goddamn right they're eating cars and road! They just ate a Camaro right underneath me and the asphalt underneath it. That was beautiful!"

"Do we need another talk about language, Barton?" Tony's snark was never going to get old to Peter- he snickered and began shooting webs, lifting the oversized frogs and sticking them to the sides of buildings nearby-

-only for them to begin eating through the buildings they're webbed to. "Heckin darn it!" Thinking quickly (and ignoring the suspiciously Tony-sounding laughter in his earpiece), he shot a web and snagged the underside of one of the alien's jaws, flicking his wrist just so and managing to wrap the strand of web around the- frog? Not-frog? Whatever's- mouth, effectively cutting off the wanton destruction of innocent vehicles and roads. Giving a whoop of triumph, Peter went to work on each of them that he could find, swinging between buildings and city blocks to cover as much ground as he could.

Then one of the largest Asphoads (as Peter had secretly named them in the privacy of his own mind) opened its mouth at exactly the wrong time and caught his web directly on the tongue. Immediately it have a hard jerk of its head, stronger than he'd expected, and pulled him off course. The frantic release of the now-being-eaten web and attempt at sending out a web to the next building didn't arrest his fall in the slightest and before he could do more than panic-flail, a metal arm wrapped around his chest and brought his fall to a very sudden halt. As he was lowered the last few meters to the ground, Tony's amused voice sounded in his ear.

"I've got you kid. What would you do without me?"

"Get squished by a rolled up newspaper?"

A bark of laughter and he landed gently on his feet. The Asphoads appeared to have no interest in eating him now that he was on the ground, but he still went out of his way to finish webbing up the original target.

Later, back at the compound, Barton and Sam put on a dramatic reenactment of the fall for Rhodey, complete with Peter's doe eyes and a tearful, "Thank you so much for saving the day Mr. Stark! You're the best dad a nerd could ask for!"

Well, Peter didn't exactly disagree. So it all worked out.

*Three*

His kid was gone. His kid was gone. Ash between his fingers, along with almost everyone else that was on this godforsaken rock. He was vaguely aware of a high-pitched, keening noise, before abruptly realizing it was him. He was making that sound, and he couldn't seem to stop until the violent, racking sobs began to rip through him and he bent to push his forehead into the (ash ash ash Peter's ash) dirt beneath him.

In between the sobs he berated himself.

"I've got you," he said

"Liar!" he accused

"Not enough," he knew

"Bring him back!" he demanded

"Oh God, Peter..."

The name sat like the ashes (all that was left of his boy oh my God my boy my kid gone gone gone) on his tongue, terribly heavy and burning.

He clawed at the ground, as if he could dig through the ashes and dust and, like a phoenix, Peter would rise reborn. All he did was dirty his hands and seem to tear something inside the stab wound he abruptly remembered.

Exhausted, he picked up his head and looked dully up at the blue woman that was watching him fall to pieces without so much as a hint of pity. Somehow, this steeled him against his breakdown and he stood, meeting her eye.

"Nebula, right?"

A nod, her gaze unwavering.

"What's next?"

Her voice is rough, the only sign of any emotion from the cyborg.

"We find him. We kill him. We get our families back."

Tony nods.

"We need help. Get us to Earth and we'll have it."

Without a word she turns and stalks towards the Guardians' ship. He follows, after about ten steps realizing that it isn't dust in his eyes, but his vision blacking out. As he hits the ground, he hears Nebula turn and come back, lifting him and carrying him to the ship. She's still eerily silent, but that just leaves room for Tony's last thought before he succumbs to the darkness taking over his sight and his mind.

I've got you, kid. I'm bringing you home. I promise.

*Four*

Tony and Peter are sitting in his workshop, doing what they do best- tinkering. He's letting the kid go nuts with one of his older gauntlets while he works on a new arm for DUM-E. It's peaceful, and he's quietly enjoying the light chatter from the kid as he discusses his latest Spanish test and Mr. Stark, it isn't fair that we have a test every week, it unfairly skews our grade!

He hasn't actually turned and looked at the kid in a few hours, engrossed as he is with this wiring that just isn't working for whatever reason. But the chatter is soothing, a balm to his soul that is deeply weary.

... why is his soul so deeply weary?

... what's going on in the outside world?

What time is it? Shouldn't Peter be tired? Hungry?

Tony shrugs it off and continues for a few more hours, blissful in the unanswered questions. He notices a bit of (ash) dirt smudged on his hand and for some reason (oh God my boy) it's really bugging him all of a sudden.

"Hey Pete, will you pass me a clean cloth from the bucket under your workbench?"

"Mister... Stark...?"

His hands begin to shake.

"Peter. Buddy. Cloth please."

"Mr. Stark, I don't feel so good."

His heart pounds in his chest and he turns around.

And he's not in his workshop anymore. It's Titan, and there's Peter. Bruised, battered, and scared. Looking to him. Reaching for him.

He runs and catches his boy in his arms, lowering him to the ground just as he crumbles to ash.

"Peter! No, Peter... I've got you. I had you... God I'm so fucking sorry... Petey..."

With that mournful cry he jerks awake, met with the darkness of the dead ship he shares with Nebula.

I've got you kid. I'm bringing you back. Just hold on a little longer, wherever you are.

Sick from his injury and exhausted, Tony sleeps.

*Five*

It's over. It's finally over.

Thanos is gone, back where it all began for him.

Back on Titan.

The gauntlet weighs heavy on Tony's arm, not just physical weight but the weight of purpose. The weight of promise.

He breathes deep. Lets it out slowly. Focuses on his exact desires. Personally and as an Avenger. Another breath.

Then. Tony Stark Snaps.

A serene pool stretching into infinity around a tiny Pagoda is before him. In it, stands Soul. Wearing Peter's face, but most definitely Not Peter.

"What did it cost?"

Tony stares at Not Peter.

"Everything."

Burning pain.

Exhaustion.

Then, brightness and relief.

The Infinity Gauntlet, and Tony's entire left arm, fall to the ground, burnt and mangled far beyond repair. Where the stones rested are burnt husks.

Tony doesn't care.

Standing where he fell, looking confused but unharmed, is Peter. His kid, his boy. Whole and healthy. Vaguely aware of the return of the other Fallen, but deeply apathetic to it, he rushes to Peter, wrapping him in a tight hug with his remaining arm. Peter, confused and afraid ("Mr. Stark what happened to your arm?!") but utterly trusting, hugs him back just as tightly, burying his face in Tony's chest.

The genius rests his face in the chocolate curls, whispering fondly.

"I've got you kid. I've finally got you and I'm taking you home."

*And One*

A scream rips through the once-silent hallway, waking up three people simultaneously.

Rhodey sits up, sighing and reaching for his braces again.

Steve rolls out of bed, going to stand watch outside the door with the screaming.

And Peter takes off in a mad dash towards the sound. Even though it's a nightly occurrence, it never stops the spike of terror drilled into his spine hearing Tony scream his name like that.

As with previous nights, Peter and Steve exchange nods before Peter walks through the door, hurrying to the bed where Tony is tangled in sweat-soaked sheets. Another scream escapes his throat, ending with a plaintive whine and rattling sob. Peter sits next to him on the bed, pulling the blankets and sheets off of his mentor and reaching to wake him.

The teen speaks loudly over the sobs, firm as he tries to bring his mentor back from his own personal hell.

"Mr. Stark I'm right here. You saved me from Titan. We're back on Earth. Mr. Stark, I'm right here!"

Finally, dark eyes open and lock on to Peter who opens his arms to the anticipated and much-needed hug. He still jumps a bit at the cold metal of Tony's prosthetic arm, but quickly melts into the embrace, rubbing the genius' back until the shaking stops.

Into the dark, Peter finally summons the courage to say what he's been thinking in the weeks since they returned.

"Mr. Stark, you don't have to try to be so strong anymore. You did it, you saved us. You saved me. Now let us save you. I've got you, Mr. Stark."

Peter pretends to not feel the wet heat of tears in his hair. He adds one last, soft whisper as he pretends to not feel his own tears.

"I love you Mr. Stark. We'll get through this together."

#irondad angst #irondad and spiderson #irondad #iron man #spiderson #five plus one #tony stark #peter parker #why did i write this #why did you do this to me #why did i do that to myself

168 notes · View notes

peterparkercuddles · 5 years

Text

The Faceplant to End all Faceplants

When Peter walked into the lab, Tony knew right away the kid was exhausted. He was sluggish, and his eye bags practically had their own bags. He'd been through enough to know what exhaustion looked like, and that was it.

"Hey, kiddo," he'd greeted. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Peter replied quietly, much too quietly for Peter. The kid seemed dead compared to his usual behavior, and as much as Tony usually wanted to tell the kid to shut up, he was unsettled by it.

"You feeling okay?" he'd asked, and Peter only nodded, furthering Tony's suspicions of exhaustion.

Not wanting to push the kid, as he knew how irritating it was, he left the kid to his own devices, and allowed him to work. The usual chatter Peter supplied was gone, leaving only the noises of tinkering in its wake. Tony hadn't realized how much he actually enjoyed the constant flow of Peter's ramblings until it was gone, and he almost felt empty as he worked on his newest gadget. The boy had made no move to strike up a conversation, or to tell Tony how his day had been, no matter what minor or major things may have happened. It was... odd, to say the least.

The two continued to work in relative silence for another half hour before Tony realized Peter's entire side of the lab had gone quiet. He'd put his own things down, and once he did, the silence registered. Turning around, Tony's eyes fell upon a sight that could melt even the coldest of hearts, and it did. Peter had fallen asleep working, his chin resting in his hand as his eyes barely fluttered. Tony smiled.

The smile was short lived however, as he watched Peter's chin slip from his hand. He expected the boy to jerk awake and catch himself, apologizing for falling asleep even though no harm had been done. It had happened before.

Which was why Tony watched in horror as Peter's face continued to fall until his face had smacked the metal table, no doubt waking the boy up. A sharp cry escaped the boys mouth, and he brought his face up with a hand over his mouth that was no doubt filling with blood at the moment. Tony was frozen in shock.

That is, until Peter pulled his hand away and shrieked. "Mr. Stark!"

In that moment, Tony was truly reminded of just how young Peter really was, and he rushed over to the scene as the tears he'd been expecting finally rushed down the boys cheeks.

"Hey, bud, hey," Tony tried to keep calm as he made his way to the scene, pulling Peter's blood soaked hand away from his mouth as he tried to inspect the damage. "You're okay. It's alright."

Peter's sobbing drowned out Tony's words of comfort, and the man was almost at a loss of what to do. He continued trying to shush the boy, but the blood and the tears kept coming, and Tony really didn't know how to stop either one.

"Pete, Peter, kid, it's gonna be okay," Tony tried soothing. He tried mopping up the blood on the kids face with the bottom of his t shirt, which only effectively smeared it, making the problem look even worse.

"M-Mr. St-ark I-I," Peter tried choking out, which only resulted in the boy breaking off into another wail, not knowing how to convey what he was feeling, and also still totally in shock from what had happened.

"I know, kiddie, I know. You're alright, it's gonna be okay," Tony hated when Peter cried like that, all choked up and sad. It was pitiful, and it was a sight that could make any grown man cry.

"Mr. Stark," the kid tried wailing again, but not being able to get anything else out before he choked up again.

"My-my mouth," he hiccuped, and finally, finally he got something out other than 'Mr. Stark.' At least Tony could now put a name on what was hurting the boy, having previously not been sure whether it was his mouth, his chin, or his teeth. He'd prayed to every deity out there that the boy hadn't hit his teeth or bitten through his tongue, and now he felt somewhat reassured.

"It's alright kiddo, we're gonna get you fixed right up," Tony assured. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., tell Bruce what's going on and alert him we're coming up."

"On it, Boss."

Once that was taken care of, Tony wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulders and pulled him up. He lifted the boy until he was wrapped around his front, arms slung over his shoulders and legs wrapped around his torso. The poor boy was still steadily crying in his ear, hiccups occasionally being thrown in here and there.

By the time they made it up to the medbay, Peter's sobs had begun to cease, with tears steadily running down his cheeks. He ignored Bruce's concerned stare as he sat the kid on the bed, his cries slightly picking up again at the loss of contact.

"Jesus, Tony, what happened to his face?" Bruce asked, quickly making his way towards Peter, and Tony swore as the kid began crying even harder upon hearing how bad he looked.

"Kid was falling asleep and smacked his face on the table; now fix him," Tony answered, going to wipe tears off Peter's cheeks.

Bruce sighed. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., scan Peter and tell me the damage."

"Mister Parker appears to be suffering from a deep laceration to the lip that will begin to contuse soon," the AI soon informed, and the two men let out breaths they hadn't realized they were holding. Peter was still crying, but he'd stopped sobbing, so Tony saw that as a win.

"Okay, we can work with that," Bruce said. "I just have to see if the cut's deep enough for stitches. If it is, I'll sew him up, and if not, we'll give him a cold compress and his healing should set in soon."

Tony sighed in relief. He was hoping Peter's lip didn't require stitches, but he was also thankful it wasn't as bad as he thought it was with Peter's crying. He winced as he heard Peter's pained whimpers from where Bruce was poking and prodding him, and he almost cried in relief himself when Bruce announced stitches weren't needed.

"Tony, I'm gonna have you clean his face up. The blood is making this look worse than it actually is, and then I'll give him a compress."

Tony nodded and took the wet washcloth Bruce offered him, making his way back to Peter and beginning to scrub at the boys bloody face.

"You sure are a mess kiddo," he murmured, and took it as a small victory when Peter gave a wet giggle in response. The blood took a few minutes to clean, and there were a few spots Tony wasn't even able to fully scrub away, but he could tell how much better Peter's face looked once the majority of the blood was gone. Bruce was right, it did look worse than it really was.

"Alright, Peter. I'm gonna give you this compress and I want you to hold it gently where the cut is while I talk to Tony for a minute," Bruce instructed, handing over a rag full of ice. Peter nodded, doing as Bruce said whilst the man pulled Tony aside.

"So, what's going on with the kid?" Bruce asked, and Tony rose his eyebrows in confusion.

"How do you just hit your face on the table like that? And something is obviously wrong, I can tell."

Tony sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

"Honestly, Bruce," he said. "I'm really not sure. The kid came in looking beat today, and he was falling asleep sitting up. His head slipped from his hand and he hit his face. I think he's exhausted."

"Oh he definitely is," Bruce confirmed. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., send me Peter's sleeping patterns."

Once he said that, Bruce's phone lit up with a list of times and hours, hours that Peter should have been sleeping but wasn't.

"Oh, Peter," Tony murmured sympathetically, and Bruce sighed.

"No wonder that hurt him so bad. Pain is amplified when you're exhausted, and looks like he's been averaging just a few hours every night."

Tony groaned. He'd never meant for this to happen. He'd never wanted Peter to turn out like him, like an insomniac.

"I'll talk to him."

Walking back over to Peter, Tony saw himself. He saw the dark eyes and the hollow cheeks. He saw the late nights and early mornings. And he hated it. He hated that this was his kid going through this.

"What's up, kiddo?" he asked, and Peter didn't catch on right away. "You're exhausted; I can tell. And this happened because of it. What's going on?"

Peter's eyes filled with tears for the umpteenth time that day, and Tony didn't think he could take it anymore. He'd seen Peter cry enough to last a year, and now he wanted his sweet chatterbox back, even if he'd never admit it out loud.

"I have nightmares," Peter admitted quietly, head down in what Tony knew was shame. The boy was always one to suffer in silence, and it made the man sick that he saw that in himself too.

"Why?" he asked, getting up on the bed beside Peter, and setting a hand on his knee. He watched as Peter tilted his head back so as to keep his tears from falling. The poor kid was probably just as tired of crying as Tony was seeing him cry.

"Just... everything. My mind just won't shut up. It's the Vulture, or it's you, or it's May. It's always something I'd rather lose sleep over than see again."

Tony's heart was officially broken. His kid, his innocent, kindhearted, loving kid of all people was going through this, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not only that, but he was beyond exhausted, and now that had costed him a busted lip.

"Jesus, kid. I'm so sorry," Tony didn't know how to help the kid. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't reassure him it would get better because it wouldn't; he knew that for a fact.

Peter sniffled. "Don't apologize. And this isn't your fault either. I shouldn't have been falling asleep in the lab."

Tony chuckled at the irony. Peter, the most apologetic person he'd ever met in his whole life, was telling him not to apologize.

He tightened his grip on the kids knee. "I'm not gonna tell you it gets better, because really, it doesn't ever go away. You learn to deal with it over time, but it never really goes away. I won't lie to you."

"But from now on, if you can't sleep, I want you to ask for help. Come to me. Hell, even go to Pepper or that friend, Ed, of yours. Just get some help. I wanna help you. I'm on your side, and you know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

It wasn't often Tony let himself get sappy with the kid, well, with anyone actually. But he had to know Tony cared for him, and he couldn't keep being so self destructive.

"Thanks, Tony," Peter smiled, and Tony lit up at the name.

"Hey, you called me Tony!" he practically yelled, and Peter smirked. "Yeah," he teased. "Don't get used to it."

Tony smiled. "Trust me, I won't."

Bruce eventually gave an all clear to leave the medbay and sent Peter off with some cream for the cut and for the bruising. His healing had kicked in slightly, but it wasn't doing much due to the kids exhaustion. Tony and Peter headed out with a few 'thank you's' to Bruce, and he waved them off.

Tony proposed ice cream for dinner, since Peter's mouth was "sure to be sensitive." Really, the two just wanted ice cream and they knew the opportunity wouldn't arise any other time with Pepper there. The rest of the night was an easy one spent watching movies while Peter's eyes fluttered shut every so often, and Tony would rake his hands through Peter's curls so to say 'you can sleep.'

The boy didn't though, and by the time his usual bedtime rolled around, Tony was determined to get the kid to rest. He did everything he knew to ensure a good nights sleep; he gave the kid a glass of warm milk, tucked him in, and even pulled Pepper up to say goodnight via video chat. He could see the exhaustion on the kids face, and in his eyes, but he could also see the fear now, and he had no idea how to get rid of it.

After all the tricks Tony used had failed, he finally sighed.

"Alright kiddo," he said. "Scoot over."

Peter looked up at him in confusion, but complied and scooted towards the other side of the bed. What he wasn't expecting was for Mr. Stark to actually crawl in bed beside him and wrap an arm around his shoulder.

"Mr. Stark? What are you doing?" Peter asked, though he couldn't deny he did feel a lot more at ease with the comfort of human warmth pressed against him.

"Well, this is my last resort to get you to sleep. I know it does wonders for me when I've got Pepper there," the genius answered, and Peter only nodded.

He tried to fight sleep for a few more minutes, but the relaxation of being warm and cozy, and having his curls massaged made the pull of sleep impossible to ignore any longer, and finally, he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

Tony could have cried in relief when he felt Peter's breathing even out. The kid was finally asleep, and he swore he felt more accomplished than he ever had. He continued to rake his fingers through the boys hair, and eventually, the pull of sleep became inviting to him as well.

That night, Tony fell asleep more relaxed than he'd been in awhile, and both he and Peter slept through the night.

'Hey,' he thought the next morning. 'Maybe I'm not so bad at this parent thing.'

#peter parker #tony stark #bruce banner #iron dad #spider son #crying #blood #my fic

55 notes · View notes

breadkneewrites · 5 years

Text

Swallow Your Pride (And Say You’re Sorry)

Tony Stark has spent his whole life saying shitty things. He should’ve known he would hurt Peter too.

One

“Get out of my lab.”

It comes out harsh. Tony knows it does, god, he knows it did, but he doesn’t open his mouth to apologize. The expression on Peter’s face is one of pure shock. You’d think he had smacked the kid across the face. Actually, it probably was just like that.

“But, Mr. Stark, I thought we were working on my suit today. You promised--”

“I don’t care, kid. Get out and take your stupid cookies with you.” Peter drops his gaze to the crinkled bag of Oreos he brought to share with Tony and his throat tightens. He doesn’t even know what he did wrong.

“It’s Wednesday, we always work on it on Wednesdays after school--” Tony swirls around the whiskey in his glass, silent. He might be a little drunk. You’re a pretty mean drunk, Tones, Rhodey once said. Maybe he is.

“Get out of my workshop, Spider-kid. Once you’ve earned my time, then we can work on the suit.” He flashes him a cold stare. Peter flinches slightly. His heart sinks into his stomach and draws up bile as the alcohol threatens to send him another ‘fuck you.’ Guilt makes his shoulders slump over protectively. God, he’s such a fucking asshole.

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I didn’t mean to--”

“Why can’t you just leave?” His voice rises and he knows it. Dreads it, even, but he’s already done too much damage. He might as well just finish the job, kick the kid out of his lab, and settle on the floor with a cold bottle of vodka to drink himself into oblivion.

Peter feels like he’s been kicked in the stomach. His mentor, idol, and friend was being so cruel. Why? What did he do? He anxiously stuffs his Ziploc bag of Oreos into his schoolbag and squeezes the strap tightly. His mouth opens to ask why, and he knows he shouldn’t, shouldn’t push Mr. Stark any further, but he needs to know. To know why he’s suddenly being so cruel.

“Why?” Tony closes his eyes against the broken tone the question carries. Clenches his teeth to stop the alcohol from replying. Gets up and pours himself another glass. He idly stands and sips the drink, the alcohol burning as it slides down his throat.

The door shuts softly as Peter leaves.

Two

“You don’t deserve your suit.”

Peter looks up from his spot on the curb, hesitating. A bloodied rag is pressed against his busted upper lip. His entire body aches as he lowers his hand to respond to his mentor.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I’ll be more careful.” Tony’s piercing gaze isn’t moved by his words, so he tries harder. Stumbles over his words in an attempt to explain. “I was just trying to help you catch the shooter--”

“And almost got yourself shot in the process.” Peter flinches. “You could’ve died, and it would’ve been on me, Pete. What would May think if I had to drop your body off tonight?” The kid licks the blood still dripping from his lip, ignoring the sting it brings. He’s quiet as Tony continues his lecture. “You can barely control yourself around basic criminals. Did you even think before launching yourself into a terrorist battle?”

“Sir, I just wanted to help you and the other Avengers--”

“We had it under control,” Tony cuts him off, cold. “You should’ve just stayed in Queens and helped old ladies cross the street, kid. We didn’t need your help. In fact, you let the guy get away.” Peter lowers his eyes to stare at his feet, which still ache from the impact of dropping several stories. The guy had shoved him out the window, and he luckily had the sense to drop to his feet. Tingles make their way up his ankles.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats softly. “I’m sorry, sir.” Tony turns to lean heavily on the railing of the roof they’re currently standing on. He’d had to pick Peter up before he got crushed by a building, so he conveniently dropped them several blocks away from the fight. Steve told him twenty minutes ago that they’d lost the shooter. “Sir?”

“I’m taking you home.” Tony steps back from the edge of the building and lets his mask fall over his face. Peter stands slowly, ignoring the throbbing in his body, and pulls his own mask over his head.

Twelve minutes later, Peter is dropped off at his house with a worried Aunt May and no words from his mentor. Tony leaves without a second glance.

Three

“Did you really think you could be an Avenger?” Steve turns and flashes Tony a surprised look. Bruce awkwardly stands up to escape the tension weighing in the air. Peter’s grip tightens on the mask in his hand, feet shuffling against the floor of the compound. “Really, kid?”

“Tony,” Steve interjects. It earns him a hand to the face as Tony moves to stand in front of Peter. He folds his arms and frowns down at the kid.

“Mr. Stark, I didn’t mean to offend you--”

“No, kid, you really need to stay out of the way when we’re doing missions. What do you do, jump out the school bus every time you sense some trouble? Throw yourself into it and expect us to pick up the pieces?” Peter’s teeth snap together as he swallows an apology. It won’t get him anywhere to say anything to his mentor right now. “You’re a kid. Act like it.”

“Stark, you seriously need to calm down.” Stephen steps away from his place on the wall, moving to stand next to Peter, who really looks like he’s going to either puke or burst into tears at any moment. He may not like children, but he wasn’t going to sit around and let Stark verbally assault one right in front of him. “He’s a kid, like you said. Do you frequently attack children?”

Tony shifts to fix his gaze on the doctor, eyes tight. “Stay out of this, Strange.”

“Why? To let you fuck with a kid?”

“No, I’m trying to teach him a lesson.”

“What lesson? The ‘I’m a cool superhero and you’re not good enough for me’ lesson?” Tony’s lip curls angrily and he drops his arms to ball his hands into fists.

“Are you really trying to fight with me right now, doctor?” He spits the title out in disgust. Stephen doesn’t react to the words, simply shrugging flippantly.

“You’re practically ripping him to shreds.” This makes Tony glance at Peter, feeling the guilt claw up his throat at the broken look on the kid’s face. Peter’s jaw is tightened, throat bobbing as he tries to swallow the tears probably burning his eyes.

Tony is practically making the kid cry in front of his idols. The Avengers. God, he fucked up big time. Steve has the courtesy to drag the other members out of the room after he notices Peter try to hide his face from them. They all shoot glares at Tony as they leave. He deserves it. He really, really deserves it.

Stephen seems to realize that Tony’s stopped his assault on Peter and steps away, but the look of disgust on his face is enough. Tony sinks his teeth into the side of his cheek as he tries to think of anything to say to the kid. To make up for what he’s said. Nothing comes to mind, so he just half-heartedly drops his hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“Go home, kid.” He does.

Four

“You’re not a superhero.”

One glance at Peter after he says this earns him a pierce through the heart. He shouldn’t have said it, but he’ll be damned before the kid gets himself killed trying to play superhero. Still, the guilt creeps its way up his throat. He opens his mouth to apologize, but Peter speaks up first.

“Then what am I, Mr. Stark?” Peter’s hand raises half-heartedly, and he brushes away his unruly curls with a pinched expression. Bruises litter the side of his face, and Tony bets there’s a huge one on his ribcage after the fall he took. His Spider-Man suit is torn in random places, as if the captors were trying to see how much fun it would be to destroy a multi-million dollar suit.

“A kid. You’re a fucking kid, and you’re not going to swing around New York trying to protect everyone every night.” His breath catches in his throat. He really can’t stop ripping into the kid tonight, can he?

“Then what’s the point of having powers?” Peter’s voice rises in the dark lab. Tony has half a mind to flip on a light switch, wincing at the assault on his eyes. Both literally and figuratively. The bruises blossoming on the kid’s skin are darker now than they were an hour ago. “To just… protect myself?”

“That’s exactly the point!” Tony slams his hand on the worktable with exasperation, leaning down to rest his elbows on it and grip his hair with one hand. “You’re not a superhero, you’re a kid with nifty powers that could be used to protect yourself!” Peter flinches at the bitterness in his mentor’s tone.

He shouldn’t have gone after the drug dealers, maybe, but he was trying to help -- to stop people from hurting others. He just wants to be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man that makes people feel better about living in Queens. Why keep power to himself? Mr. Stark’s words echo over and over in his head, and he feels his chest tighten with hurt. You’re not a superhero.

Then what is he? He doesn’t want to keep power to himself. That’s what villains do. Or, he thinks they do. He hasn’t really met a villain yet.

Who is a superhero then?

“Kid,” Tony breaks through his thoughts, his voice tight, “go home.” Peter presses his lips together, throwing his bag over his shoulder and ignoring the way it makes pain spread through his sore body.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.” He opens the door and pauses. He almost doesn’t say anything else. Then, “See you tomorrow.” The door shuts with a click.

Tony drops his head into his hand and curses himself.

Five

“You’re not my kid.”

The words shoot out like hot venom. Venom that sinks into Peter’s flesh and curls around his heart as he hopelessly stares at his mentor for an explanation. “What-- Mr. Stark, sir, what did I--”

Tony barely looks up from his tinkering. An Iron Man suit lays in pieces on the worktable as he dismantles it to look for the faulty components and replace them. It’s one of his original suits, and he’ll be damned before he lets the thing die on him after so many years. “You’re not my kid, that’s all.” He fixes a panel on the breastplate, wiping his greasy hands on the tar-tinted rag slung over his right shoulder.

“I know that, sir.” Peter swallows back questions, knowing he won’t get answers.

“Then why do you prance around like I’m your father? You’re always following me around, asking me questions, and practically begging for my attention.” The words sting. Tony knows they do. But he can’t have Peter walking around and calling him ‘dad.’ He wouldn’t father any child, no matter who they are, because it’ll just be terrible for the kid. To have Tony’s image smearing over every achievement they do, to have the press constantly hounding them for attention. He won’t do that to a kid, any kid, even if the words stick to his throat like cotton.

Peter doesn’t reply, the screwdriver in his hand twisting over and over in his hands.

“I’m not your dad, kid.”

“Then why do you call me ‘kid?’” Tony’s hands still on a scratched up plate as he works to reply.

“Because you are one, aren’t you?”

“I’m almost an adult.”

“You’re fifteen. That’s basically a baby.” He’s trying to cover up the sting of his words with jokes, to ease the tension in the room, but he can tell Peter’s worrying on the inside of his cheek. “I’m just telling you that you aren’t. My kid, that is.” He swallows awkwardly, throat dry. “I’m just a mentor, got it?”

“Yes, sir.” Peter stops twirling the screwdriver around and sets it clumsily on the table. “Is it alright if I leave early, Mr. Stark? I promised I would be home earlier for dinner.” Tony knows it’s a lie. A bad one, too. He knows it is because Peter had suggested they just eat greasy pizza and watch the Star Wars marathon airing on TV tonight. Tony was looking forward to it all day, to have that small moment of domesticity, but he’s gone and fucked that up, hasn’t he?

If there was a definition to describe Tony Stark, it would be ‘fucked up’ in every sense of the word.

“Yeah.” Hurt filters through his tone, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, kid. Tell May I said ‘hey,’ alright?” Peter sends him a small, hurt smile as he swings his bag onto his shoulder. Tony ignores the tears he sees tinting the kid’s eyes red, because it would just make it worse to talk about it. To talk about feelings and why Tony can’t accept him as a kid. To talk about, well, Tony. Everything about him.

“See you on Wednesday, Mr. Stark,” Peter says quietly, slipping past his mentor as he practically flies from the room. Tony lets his hand rest on the plate a few moments longer, letting the guilt sink into his bones.

He picks up Peter’s screwdriver, turning it in his hand, and yanks out another part.

+ One

“I’m sorry.” Peter hesitates at the door, his bag slipping off his shoulder. Tony is sitting on the couch, facing Peter, with a can of coke resting at his feet. At least he’s not intoxicated this time.

“Sir?” He’s pretty sure he must’ve missed some important part of the conversation, or walked in while Mr. Stark was on the phone.

“Pete,” Tony says running a hand across his face, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“Everything I’ve said to you these past months.” Peter slowly moves to sit down next to his mentor, his hands in his lap. What do you say when your mentor is apologizing? “I took so much out on you. Fuck, I’m sorry, kid.”

“‘S okay, Mr. Stark. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“That’s the problem. I did mean it, at the time.” Peter falls silent, listening to Tony confess. “I meant all the mean shit I said to you and it’s been eating at me for months. You didn’t deserve that. Any of that. I shouldn’t have told you to get out of the lab. Or that you didn’t deserve your suit after that terrorist attack. Or that you aren’t a superhero. You are a superhero, kid. A damn good one too.”

Peter wrings his hands, mulling over what to say. He knows he didn’t deserve what Mr. Stark told him. Of course he didn’t. But he also knows he’s been careless, pushy, and irresponsible towards Mr. Stark. He knows he hasn’t listened to his mentor’s advice. Didn’t care about the consequences. He might not have deserved what was said, but he did deserve to be lectured. Mr. Stark was just trying to look out for him.

“And,” Tony suddenly says, snapping Peter out of his wondering, “you are my kid. Maybe not biologically, but you’re still my kid.” His mentor drops his hands, turning his body to look at Peter fully. “And I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Stark.” When Tony opens his mouth to protest, he pushes on. “Maybe I didn’t deserve what was said, but I was being irresponsible. I didn’t listen to you, and you were just trying to protect me.” Anxiety is making his hands sweat, so he wipes them discreetly on his jeans. “I’ll listen more.”

“I have a lot to make up to you, kid. I’ve said a lot of shit.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to forgive me, either. It’s probably better you didn’t. I can’t promise I won’t say something like that again. I will, actually.” Peter nods.

“I know. It’s fine, Mr. Stark.” Tony presses his lips together, as if he’s fighting the urge to protest more. “You can make it up to me.” Peter’s eyes glint with mirth. “By letting me work on my suit again.” This earns him a Tony Stark Eye-Roll.

“Got any more Oreos in that bag of yours?” Tony’s lips curl slightly into a smile. His shoulders drop a bit in relief, and Peter notes the way his hands clasp together anxiously.

“I always bring snacks.”

“Good.” Tony stands up and runs his hand through Peter’s curls, ruffling it gently. “Come on. Grab a few drinks from the fridge, yeah?”

Peter gathers up his bag, Oreos, and pulls out a coke and root beer from the fridge. Tony cracks open his new can of coke and takes a large sip, analyzing how much work is left to be done on Peter’s new flight thrusters. Peter sits down and rests his chin on his hand, watching F.R.I.D.A.Y. project the blueprint with a grin.

“Let’s get to work.”

#irondad #spiderson #tony stark #peter parker #peter & tony #tw: verbal abuse #tw: alcholism #irondad fic #stephen strange #mcu #marvel #5+1 fic

45 notes · View notes

letterboxd · 5 years

Photo

Endgame.

“I think audiences are so smart now, so they require to not be fed the same drivel as even 20 minutes ago.” —Robert Downey Jr.

The cast and filmmakers behind the most anticipated release of the year talk to Letterboxd, without actually saying anything specific about the film. (But we don’t mind.) This article contains mild Infinity War spoilers.

Although there are going to be many, many more of them, Avengers: Endgame can’t help but feel like the climax of the grand Marvel movie experiment; the culmination of the shared universe first suggested by a delightful post-credits teaser in 2008’s Iron Man.

Since then, the Marvel Cinematic Universe has come to dominate the modern blockbuster with hit after hit, year after year. Then came last year’s Avengers: Infinity War, with its devastating cliffhanger in which many Marvel protagonists evaporated into dust. That epic act of character disintegration built an anticipation for the follow-up that allowed the filmmakers to apply incredible restraint in the film’s marketing. Indeed, all we really know about Avengers: Endgame is that we don’t know anything.

Marvel head honcho Kevin Feige announced that there would be nothing in the trailers from beyond the first twenty minutes of the film. That is unprecedented in modern blockbusters, which center their campaigns around the major action set-pieces, usually dutifully showcased in teasers and trailers to the point where we complain we’ve already seen the film.

In the modern marketing-saturated film-going environment, to go into a film of this size and not be aware of which direction the story is heading, or what the major action scenes will be, is an almost impossible task.

Feige and co-directors Joe and Anthony Russo are to be commended for using their accumulated powers for good in this regard—not since Gone Girl has a major studio film shown such restraint. Heck, they didn’t even let press see the movie before we sat down with Feige, both Russos and the (currently officially alive) cast members of the film (pretty much the original Avengers team) in downtown Los Angeles this week.

Read on for the low-down on the Avengers’ best Boggle player, Natasha Romanoff’s evolution from “sexy secretary”, and the scene that had Robert Downey Jr. “more shredded than a julienne salad”.

Front row, left to right: Danai Gurira, Jeremy Renner, co-director Anthony Russo, Chris Evans, co-director Joe Russo, Brie Larson and Mark Ruffalo. Back row, left to right: Karen Gillan, Paul Rudd, Scarlett Johansson, Marvel Studios president/producer Kevin Feige, Robert Downey Jr., Don Cheadle and Chris Hemsworth during Marvel Studios’ ‘Avengers: Endgame’ press conference in Los Angeles.

Letterboxd: Filmmakers are known to tinker with blockbusters until the very last minute, honing in on what audiences respond to in the teaser material. That’s obviously not the case here, since you held back so much in the film’s trailers. How did this lack of advance audience feedback impact the filmmaking process, if at all? Anthony Russo (co-director, the taller brother): Look, at the end of the day, my brother and I, we came to this material because we’re fans. We grew up loving the comics. We came to the MCU already fans of the MCU. So the energy we move on is our own passion and our own excitement, and that’s how we tell stories. We learned long ago that you have to tell stories for yourself. You can’t be thinking about how others might receive them.

So for Joe and me, because we have such an intimate relationship with the material, because we have so many amazing collaborators—starting with Kevin [Feige, producer]—we are able to really fashion the story around what we want to see as fans. How do we surprise ourselves. How do we excite ourselves? How do we challenge ourselves? How do we force ourselves to keep digging deeper and keep exploring this narrative and these characters in ways we never imagined? That’s sort of how we guide ourselves through the process.

And once the film is complete and we put it out into the world, we really have no idea how it is going to be received. Once that complete film is experienced and digested and responded to, I think that’s the moment where we are then filled up with a reaction. But as we’re executing, once we conceive the film and start executing, we’re not really second-guessing what we’re doing. We’re really focused on chasing the initial vision that we had for it.

On how the Russo brothers are feeling now that they are near the end of the journey: Joe Russo (co-director): This is, I think, a really unique experiment in movies, this grand mosaic. Depending on how you count it up, eleven franchises… have been interwoven into one big narrative, and I think a lot of people have invested a lot of heart and soul into the characters. When we take these movies around the world, it’s really heartwarming to see people come up to you and say “hey, I started watching this with my classmates when I was ten years old—now we’re all 21 and we’re all going to go see this together” or “my parents have taken me to every movie” or “my grandfather has taken me to every film”. It’s a real sense of community and sharing in these stories and believing in them. And I think with Endgame, we get the opportunity to finish off one of the grandest experiments in movie history and bring it to, as Kevin said, an epic conclusion. So what we’re hoping for is that people feel satisfied with the conclusion.

‘Avengers: Endgame’ co-directors Joe Russo and Anthony Russo.

On what it’s like to join the Marvel Cinematic Universe at this critical moment: Brie Larson (Carol Danvers/Captain Marvel): I mean, stressful, now that you put it like that. I’ve felt kind of chill. But now I’m scared. So I hope you guys did a good job. I came at just the most magical time I think. To come exactly at this ten-year anniversary, and really, my first introduction to everyone was the ten-year photo, which was a really remarkable and special day. And super surreal and also like not allowed to [be talked about]. So the whole thing has always felt like a dream.

This film will always be personally dear to me because it was my first time playing Captain Marvel. We shot this first. So I had to stumble and try to figure out who this character was with no script for this and no script for Captain Marvel either—and perform for the first time in front of legends. But it was incredible.

As big as it is, it still feels like a bunch of kids. Just like what I was doing over summer break, making movies in my garage. There is still this sense of wonder and play and encouragement—and of course this film deals with some heavy subject matter. So you’re bouncing in between things that feel very deep and serious, and then we’re going off and playing Boggle. Which I am very good at. Just to be clear.

There is no other word I can describe it as other than surreal. And I’m super excited for this to come out. Mostly just so that I can talk about it. I want to be able to talk about my experience, which I haven’t been able to do for a very long time.

On connection to his fellow Avengers: Mark Ruffalo (Bruce Banner/Hulk): It doesn’t feel like family to me because we all really get along well. There’s not that much drama. It does feel like family. It’s a family that you wish you had in a way. I don’t know if you could tell, but it’s a little bit different press conference than the last time. It has a little bit sort of sadness to it. We’re all talking about like we’re dead. I loved working with these guys. It was great knowing them. They were great Boggle players.

There is something very bittersweet about this moment, because as actors, we’re like vagabonds. We kind of bounce around. We have these intense relationships. And then you don’t see anybody until you get nominated for something or you’re nominated in something and you end up in an award ceremony.

Chris Evans (Steve Rogers/Captain America): What’s that like? Speak for yourself.

MR: Well. But like, this is the closest thing that any of us really have to—unless you’re in several franchises—it’s the closest thing you have to continuity and friendships and watching people grow up and have children and get married and then get divorced and then get remarried.

On how Captain America’s leadership role is affected by the presence of other leaders like Black Panther and Captain Marvel: CE: I think he tends to lean on those people who are of like mind and nature, who kind of are intrinsically selfless. I mean, all the heroes up here have their baked-in-the-cake flaws. And I think a lot of that makes for really good conflict in storytelling. That’s why my favorite stuff in this arc has been my stuff with Downey, because [there is] such a dichotomy between how we approach things. But at the end of the day, our hearts are both in the right places. It provides a lot of great friction. By introducing characters like Captain Marvel and Black Panther, people who also align very similarly to Cap’s nature, it reinforces Cap’s sense of purpose and home. It’s an environment that… feels more natural for him. It’s nice to see the certain pockets where he feels at peace and the certain pockets where he feels his buttons might be getting pushed.

On the evolution of the franchise’s female roles: Scarlett Johansson (Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow): Initially, the character really started as a sort of sexy secretary with a skill-set on the side. Posing as. And we didn’t know, or I certainly didn’t know how the audience would react to the character, my interpretation of the character. And obviously a very beloved character for a long time. Then the next time that we saw her in Avengers, she was sort of one of the boys for better or worse. And that made sense then.

I think the fans and the audiences have really pushed, certainly Marvel, but pushed all the studios and filmmakers to really throw up on the screen what represents what’s going on in the zeitgeist and wanting to see diverse films and casts that represent their own aspirations and how they feel. I feel the character has sort of grown in reaction to that. And the movies have really grown in reaction to that kind of fan encouragement.

I remember when Lizzie [Olsen, Scarlet Witch] signed on. Cobie [Smulders, Agent Maria Hill] was there. We were all clinging to each other… I felt like I had been in this testosterone fest for such a long time, it was so nice to see other female cast members. And then with Brie [Larson] coming on and Karen [Gillan, Nebula from Guardians of the Galaxy] and Danai [Gurira, Okoye from Black Panther]. I’m amongst so many wonderful actors, so many strong actors, and it’s just grown beyond my wildest dreams. I could never have imagined where this would take us. And all of us. It’s been quite a journey.

On how Robert Downey Jr. felt while filming the now-iconic scene in which Spider-Man (Tom Holland) fades away at the end of Infinity War (“Mr Stark, I don’t feel so good”): Robert Downey Jr. (Tony Stark/Iron Man): I just love the lighting in that scene. I look so shredded. I was more shredded than a julienne salad, man. No. I make a lot of faces. I need some help in the editing. It was one of those moments. “This is the most serious thing that’s happened since you were nine. Now don’t F this up.” And I remember the brothers were there. I think we re-staged it once or twice. Anyway. It was crazy to shoot it. But it was just another day. But then I think seeing it—I happened to see it with this amazing kid, this Scottish kid who couldn’t go to a theater—I saw it with him and his reaction really f’ed me up.

So I think what a lot of us are looking forward to—like Kevin always says—is that it’s a surprising, delightful experience with Endgame. It’s one of those things where you go “Wow, I think we just made a pretty serious choice here”. But I think audiences liked that. I think audiences are so smart now so they require to not be fed the same drivel as even 20 minutes ago. It’s like we need novelty. And I think that what the Russos and Kevin have been able to do that is provide that in spades.

On what’s been special about Chris Hemsworth’s journey with these films: Chris Hemsworth (Thor): Well, just to echo something you were saying before, Anthony, about the first time that the Marvel Universe came into my universe back in Australia: I was sitting there, and I would have been just straight out of high school and watching Iron Man and thinking the same thing. Thinking “Oh my god, imagine. I wish I could be a part of that world”. And then a few years on, getting cast in it as Thor and having the opportunity to embark on this thing, and at the time I thought, was this film even going to make it past DVD? Or make to the cinemas? Or was I going to be re-cast and all those sort of questions.

I think the answer to the question, what made it so special for me was just the different people I was able to work with. From Kenneth Brannagh—that first film was really sort of completely in his hands, and he was basically willing to do whatever it takes and wherever he needed me to go for the character—and then through the films with each director and each different cast member, I would learn something different from them.

And by Ragnarok, I felt like I finally had enough sort of confidence to go “Okay, what is it that I could possibly bring to this?” And then have this great collaboration with Taika [Waititi, director]. We really decided to do something different to see how we could make it unexpected and unique. And then I had been calling Joe and Anthony and saying look, I’ve got this new version of Thor that we’ve just shot. And I want to continue that version. I don’t want to do the old version. And they said we’ve got an even newer version for you.

It’s just about the people that’s made it so special and I think unique each time with any of our characters. The fact that we’re all willing to be open to what new possibilities lie ahead of these franchises and these characters. It’s been a pretty remarkable journey.

‘Avengers: Endgame’ opens in Australia and New Zealand on 24 April, and in UK, US and other regions from 25 April. Reporting by Letterboxd West Coast editor Dominic Corry.

#avengers #mcu #Marvel Studios #ironman #avengers endgame #avengers infinity war #thor #black widow #natasha romanoff #scarlett johansson #letterboxd

9 notes · View notes