#no badge here and Peter looks up at him surprised not scared

[milstrim]

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 5: Ironic

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

---

"Woah."

"I know, right," Peter said, unzipping the inside of the suit and moving to plug it into Ned's computer. His friend continued to gape at it, fingers trailing over the fabric reverently.

"I can't believe Iron Man made this," he whispered. "I get to sit here. And touch a superhero suit. That Tony Stark made. For my best friend. This is the greatest day of my life."

"You've said that a lot recently," Peter pointed out, pulling up the schematics of the suit on Ned's computer, who turned to look at him in confusion.

"What are you doing? Are you supposed to be messing with it?"

"I'm not messing with it. I'm just going through Karen's code real quickly."

"Karen?"

"The AI," he explained. "I just want to make sure she's not gonna snitch on me."

"Snitch on you for what?"

"Uhhh, so you know those alien weapons I've been talking about?"

Ned nodded. "Yeah?"

"I'm gonna take that down, and I don't really need Karen telling Mr. Stark," he mumbled the last part nervously. Ned stared at him.

"Why don't we want Karen telling Mr. Stark again? I mean, he gave you the suit, he must think you're capable."

Peter paused, puffing up his cheeks as he took in an awkward breath, staring at the protocols showing up on the computer. He'd already spotted three to tell Mr. Stark if he was in trouble, so he knew it was the opposite of Ned's assumption.

"Actuallyyyy..." He took a deep breath. "You can't tell anyone this." Ned nodded, but he continued to press. "I mean it. Nobody. Not a soul."

"I won't, I won't! I promise, Peter. Not. A. Soul."

"Mr. Stark's my soulmate."

Ned's head whipped around to stare at Peter's shadow, his mouth falling open.

"Oh, my God... Oh, my God! He's your soulmate!!?" Peter nodded, preparing himself for Ned's excited ramblings, but he couldn't really hide the smile on tugging at his lips either, however faint it was. "This is insane! Your life is so fucking insane I think I'm going to lose it!! Have you talked to him? Wait--yeah you have! How many times have you talked to him? Have you done, I don't know, 'soulmate things?'"

"Ned, what?"

Ned threw his hands up. "I don't know, I haven't met my soulmate. I'm trying my best, Peter!"

Peter laughed, shrugging.

"I don't really know what 'soulmate things' are, but we had dinner, and he showed me some stuff in his lab."

"Oh, my God...you've been in his lab. You know you have to show me one day."

"Definitely. I'll figure it out later, just, let us get more used to each other? Maybe? Let me impress him at least, which is why I'm trying to keep Karen from snitching on me."

"Sure. Here," Ned agreed, sitting beside him on the bed and gesturing for the computer. Peter passed it over to him wordlessly. "I'll work on the protocols, you do detective work or something."

"Thanks, dude."

"By the way, and answer honestly, is that Tony Stark's hoodie?"

Peter glanced down at the red hoodie that Mr. Stark had given him, 'MIT' emblazoned on the sleeves while the faded logo sat on the front of the piece of clothing. He smiled at Ned. "Yep."

"This is so cool," his friend melted.

With an amused eyeroll, Peter pulled out his phone, clearing his throat and nervously calling, "Karen?"

The phone lit up. "Yes, Peter?"

"Listen, ah, I was wondering if you could help me. I'm trying to figure out who these guys under the bridge were a few nights ago, but I mean, I can only kind of remember part of a license plate."

"Can you tell me where you were?" Peter rattled off Liz's neighborhood. Karen was silent for a little bit before piping up again. "Was there a white van involved?"

Peter perked up. "Yes! Exactly!"

A hologram popped up from Peter's phone. Ned stopped to stare at it as they both let out an identical, "Whoa..."

Peter watched intently from the security camera as the van rolled up under the bridge to where the buyer had been waiting. Karen highlighted the faces for him.

"Okay. The two on the right, who are they?" he asked.

"Searching law enforcement databases," Karen said, pausing before answering. "No records found for two of the individuals."

"Nothing?"

"One individual identified." The recording was replaced by a mugshot. "Aaron Davis, age thirty-three. He has a criminal record and an address here in Queens."

Peter and Ned glanced at each other. Ned said, "The protocols are disabled."

"Let's pay him a visit."

  ---

"So, what's this surprise you've been talking about?"

Tony's head shot up at the sound of his girlfriend's voice. He smiled, turning from where he'd been forcing some kitchen tools into a box to take in the woman as she stepped off of the elevator. She very much looked like she'd just come out of a meeting in sharp business slacks and an exhausted expression.

"Hey, Pep. How was...London?"

"Tokyo," she corrected, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "It was tiring. How's the packing?"

"Eh, boring," he said, kicking the box lightly and shoving his hands in his pockets. "So, anyway, I think that we should reconsider moving to the compound permanently."

"Tony, we just finished all the paperwork for the tower! And most floors have been packed by now, we can't just--"

"Not the tower. Just for us. Ever thought about a nice high-rise in Queens?"

Pepper stared at him, crossing her arms. "Queens? Since when have you ever cared about Queens?"

"Well, that's the surprise."

"The surprise is that you want to move to Queens?"

"No," Tony corrected, unable to stop his bright grin. "The surprise is that my soulmate lives in Queens."

It took a couple of seconds for that to register to Pepper. When it did, her eyebrows raised and she let out a smiled gasp. "You found him?"

Tony nodded. "Yep, just swinging around New York like a maniac."

"Swinging?"

"He's Spider-Man. Well, 'man's' a strong word. Here." He waved his hand, pulling up a screen that displayed Peter's yearbook photo. Pepper cooed at him. "Peter Parker. Top of his class at Midtown High by day, overly excited vigilante by night."

"He doesn't look like he could hurt a fly, never mind stop robberies. How'd he get his powers?"

"Forgot to ask, actually. He wasn't super excited to meet me at first, actually."

Pepper snorted. "Good. I'm glad he doesn't feed your ego."

"Hey! This is serious," he pouted.

"Uhuh." Pepper gave him another kiss on the cheek. "How'd you meet him?"

"Mugging. I bought him a hot chocolate."

"Hmm. I expected something stranger given your track record."

"He ran away."

"There it is," she said. "It's all good now, though?"

"Yeah..."

"Tony?"

He hesitated. "Peter lives at a group home, and I gotta say, not super fond of his foster father."

"Is he... Does he hurt Peter?" Pepper asked. He shrugged.

"Possibly. I gave Peter some money and the guy took it. Spent hundreds of dollars on liquor. And the kid's really thin. Jumpy, too. But there's nothing to prove right now."

"I'm surprised I didn't have our lawyer calling me to say you broke into a foster home and kidnapped a kid."

Tony shrugged, giving her a soft smile. "I don't need to break down the door to say hi to Peter. Besides, kid's wary, gets nervous easily. I don't want to scare him off by being too invasive about his home."

"Good on you for learning some boundaries, Tony," she congratulated before turning just a little more serious as she glanced at Peter's picture again. "You're sure he's alright?"

"No. But he's got a new superhero suit, a phone with me, Friday, and his own AI on speed dial, an unlimited credit card, and a badge to get into the tower. He's got resources if he needs them."

"Then let's just hope he doesn't need them."

 ---

  Peter waited until the next day to find and interrogate Aaron Davis, more at Ned's insistence that they study for their Spanish quiz and to let his friend geek out over the suit than anything else. He'd stayed at his friend's house for as long as humanly possible, readily accepting whatever snack that Ned had pushed his way and going over notes that Karen gave him about Davis. It wasn't until the alarm he'd had Karen set that it was 9:40 went off did he leave.

Peter didn't like to impose on his friend so much, but Ned hadn't seemed to mind with the new addition of a supersuit and Mr. Stark being his soulmate, and the teenager couldn't help the way he was still avoiding Mr. Fowler like the plague. After leaving Mr. Stark's on Sunday and failing to stop a simple burglary, he'd hurried back to the group home, helping Eric with his homework and then cooping himself up in his room. He'd managed to avoid him the entire night and the next morning due to the man being passed out drunk in his room. Though he was still wracked with guilt at the fact that his foster father had stolen Mr. Stark's money on alcohol, he had to admit that it was at least useful.

Bidding goodnight to his friend, Peter slipped out of the apartment and hurried down onto the street where he joined the late night crowd as he made his way back to the group home. He popped his earbuds in and chose a song on his phone (that had an unlimited choice for him now, but he just stuck with his familiar Spotify playlists) as he rushed back to a place that he wished he could avoid for longer. Unfortunately, the curfew was final, so he made it back to the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys with five minutes to spare.

He stopped in front of the door as his hairs rose. Surprisingly, they didn't direct him towards the house, instead calling him to turn around. Peter glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of a man sitting at an apartment's steps a few buildings down. It was too dark to see his face, especially with the hat he wore pulled down low, but he looked just a little familiar. More than a little nervous, the teenager shook it off and stepped inside.

Mr. Fowler was waiting for him at the dining table. Peter paused, taking out his earbuds as Mr. Fowler turned to stare at him, chewing on a slice of pizza. For some reason, despite living in New York, the man was obsessed with frozen pizza. It was practically criminal, but Peter excused it as mind games since all the kids weren't allowed to eat any of it. Only a sociopath would eat exclusively frozen pizza in Queens.

"Pity. I was hoping you'd be late," Mr. Fowler frowned at Peter as he shuffled to a hesitant stop by the stairs. "Got another card for me?"

"No," Peter lied stiffly.

"What? No sugar daddy today?"

He knew better than to argue. "I hung out with Ned."

Mr. Fowler stared at him, but the travel agent was nothing if not a man of his word. Peter had been on time, so he waved the teenager on. Resisting the urge to scramble into the safety of his room, he whisked up the steep stairs and into the dark bedroom only lit by the lamp in the corner.

Tim was already asleep, but Jeremiah was sat on his bed going over what looked like a book report. The teenager paid Peter no mind as he dropped his bag onto the ground beside his bed and changed into a pajama shirt. He kept the hoodie on that Mr. Stark had given despite the warmth of the night as he slipped under his covers, bundling up in the reassuring fabric.

Peter didn't fall asleep for a while, grateful for the light provided by the lamp as he stared at the outline of Mr. Stark's shadow as though it were the only thing in the world. It might as well be for all he cared. Blocking out Mr. Fowler was quickly becoming a new necessity that was increasingly hard to do with the way his senses focused in on every little thing.

The entire house smelled of the man's alcohol, musty and strong and littered with the memories of a dark closet where even his shadow hadn't been able to comfort him. But the hoodie carried the fading scent of Mr. Stark that washed away his tired uneasiness, at least for the time being, and the shadow kept him preoccupied with one comforting thought. Out there, just across a bridge, was an adult who cared.

 ---

  When Peter woke up, he felt off. He wasn't quite sure how to explain it, just that he knew the day was going to go wrong before it started. He wanted to curl up deeper into the hoodie that wrapped around him like a cocoon, but forced himself to push the covers off of himself and plant hit feet on the cold morning floor.

Jeremiah's bed was already empty, so Peter assumed that he'd already eaten and left with Eric, whose school started much earlier than everyone else's. Tim was still asleep, so Peter put on a pair of pants, grabbed his bag, and woke the kid up before knocking on the door of the other kids' room. He then headed downstairs and began putting together bowls of cereal for the kids that would be stumbling downstairs in a few minutes.

Mr. Fowler was in the kitchen, leaving the teenager to shuffle around him awkwardly as the man gave him a suspicious glare that he tried desperately to ignore. He left the kitchen as quickly as possible, placing the bowls down in the kids' usual spots and then taking up his own place to quickly scarf down a bowl of tasteless cereal. By the time he was finished, all the other kids had already stumbled downstairs and begun to eat.

Peter went along preparing their bags and then taking their bowls to the sink once they were done. He had just put the last dish in the dishwasher when the other boys at Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys walked out the door, leaving him alone with Mr. Fowler. The man was staring at him with the same suspicious glare as he closed the pantry and then made to grab his backpack.

"Wait just a moment, Peter," Mr. Fowler said. Peter paused immediately, holding back a shiver at the danger in his tone.

"Sir?"

"There was a pack of granola bars missing from the pantry last night." The man glared at him, clearly waiting for a reaction, but Peter just stared at him, hesitant. Which kid had taken the bars? He hadn't seen anything off in their bags, unless Mr. Fowler had just miscounted, though that didn't happen often. "Anything to say to that, Peter?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, sir. I didn't take them."

"You didn't? I find that very hard to believe. How close are you to ending your grounding?"

"Three days, Mr. Fowler."

He tutted, standing up from his chair and stepping over to Peter. The teenager couldn't stop the way he froze, tensing up and squaring his shoulders as a large, meaty hand clamped down on one. Fingers curled over the thick fabric of his hoodie, pricking at his skin.

"Well, it would be a pity if it was extended longer. You're sure you didn't take anything?"

"Nothing, sir." The hand flashed to his hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling his head down and to the side with a pained grunt. Peter forced his breaths to steady even as tears pricked at his eyes. "I didn't take anything, Mr. Fowler, I promise!"

"Then you've wasted my time, son. Do you know what makes up for lost time?"

"Wha-what? Sir."

"A bit of hard cash." Peter noticed the way the man's hand trembled. "That card was nice for the weekend, but I'm afraid I'm running a little low. Got anything else for me?"

His thoughts flashed to the newly activated card sitting in his wallet, tucked safely in his hoodie pocket. He could just give it up and walk away. Mr. Fowler would be happy and Peter could go to school, safe and sound.

Steely eyes met Mr. Fowler's impossibly strained ones. "No. I don't have any other money."

The fist let go of his hair, throwing him back. Peter caught himself in a stumble as Mr. Fowler looked at him in disgust.

"Fine," the man rasped. "Extend your grounding until next week, then. Now get to school before I'm forced to call you in an excuse."

Peter mumbled out a grated, "Yes, sir," before stumbling out the door. Instead of making his way to school, he stumbled into the nearest alleyway. The teenager sucked in a deep breath, cursing himself for the tears biting at his eyes and the panic choking his throat. He was fine. Nothing had happened. He was completely fine. It wasn't like the extension of his grounding even mattered, Peter had money to buy food when he needed it. Everything. Was. Fine.

But Peter wasn't fine. He was choking on air and stumbling on panic as he slid down a grimy alleyway wall, unable to even begin to calm down. He didn't know why he was even freaking out so bad, Mr. Fowler had only pulled his hair, but the revival of the strong smell of liquor and the closeness of the man's face to his was horribly haunting.

Peter pulled at his hair as he finally managed to wheeze in a breath, staring desperately at the shadow in front of him. Mr. Stark's fluffy hair and tall shoulders seemed to stare back at him, almost reassuring. The teenager shoved his nose into the collar of his cardinal hoodie, taking in a deep breath to drown out Mr. Fowler.

It calmed him slightly.

But not quite enough.

With chattering teeth, Peter pulled his bag off of his shoulder and tore the suit out of it. With no hesitation, he took off his clothes and stepped into the suit. Karen greeted him instantly.

"Good morning, Peter. Shouldn't you be heading to school?"

"Uh, no, no. Not today, Karen. That man, Aaron Davis? Where is he right now?"

A path was highlighted on his screen.

 ---

  "Remember me?"

Peter's voice was almost hilariously unnatural, but the man at the car stumbled back, so he guessed it worked. He thundered forward to where Aaron Davis was trying to stumble away from his car but was pulled back by the web sticking to the open hood.

"Uh, hey..."

"I need information. You're gonna give it to me now," Peter demanded half-heartedly, the enhanced interrogation mode making his voice much angrier. Maybe it was better than he thought.

"All right, chill," Davis placated.

"Come on!"

Davis paused, staring at him in confusion. Peter tried not to shuffle on his feet. "What happened to your voice?"

Crap.

"What do you mean, what happened to my voice?"

"I heard you by the bridge. I know what a girl sound like," Davis deadpanned.

"I'm not a girl! I'm a boy," Peter protested, quickly moving to correct himself. "I mean, I'm a--I'm a man."

"I don't care what you are, a boy, a girl..." the man trailed off with a shrug, continuing to load his car with groceries.

"I'm not a girl! I'm a man," he protested again. "Come on, man. Look, who is selling these weapons? I need to know. Give me names--or else."

Davis slammed the trunk shut and Peter flinched back on instinct. The man flashed him a teasing smile, shaking his head.

"You ain't ever done this before, huh?"

"Deactivate interrogation mode," Peter said sullenly. Davis huffed in amusement, shaking his head again. "Look, man, these guys are selling weapons that are crazy dangerous. They can't just be out on the streets. Look, if one of them can just cut Delmar's bodega in half..."

Davis, not paying attention in the slightest, looked up, regarding him in slight interest. "You know Delmar's?"

"Yeah, best sandwich in Queens," he shrugged.

"Sub Haven's pretty good."

"It's too much bread."

"I like bread."

"Come on, man, please," the teenager begged one last time. Davis stared at him, unresponsive, so with a dramatic throw of his hands, Peter began to walk away. "Stupid interrogation mode. Karen, don't ever do that again."

"The other night," Aaron started. Peter turned around to look at him. "You told that dude, "if you shoot somebody, shoot me." It's pretty ballsy. I don't want those weapons in this neighborhood. I got a nephew who live here.

Tentatively, Peter stepped back over, catching sight of the man's shadow. It was smaller, clearly a boy with a tall afro.

"Who are these guys? What can you tell me about the guy with the wings?"

"Other than he's a psychopath dressed like a demon, nothing. I don't know who he is or where he is." Peter sighed, leaning his head on the car roof. He was never going to prove to Mr. Stark he was worthy of being his soulmate when he couldn't even find the vulture guy. Aaron offered, "I do know where he's gonna be."

Peter perked up. "Really?"

"Yeah, this crazy dude I used to work with, he's supposed to be doing a deal with him."

"Yes!" Peter exclaimed, beginning to step away in giddiness. "Yes. Thank--"

"Hey, hey, hey," Aaron called. Peter stopped. "I didn't tell you where. You don't have a location."

Peter flushed bright red, making his way back to the car in embarrassment. "Right, of course. Yeah, my bad. Silly. Just...Yeah. Where is it?"

"Can I give you some advice?" Peter hummed. "You got to get better at this part of the job."

"I don't understand. I'm intimidating."

He crossed his arms, but Aaron only shook his head again.

"Staten Island ferry, eleven."

"Oh, that's soon," Peter realized. He began to walk away, pointing a finger at where the man's hand was webbed. "Hey, that's gonna dissolve in two hours."

"No, no, no, no. Come fix this."

"Two hours. You deserve that."

"I got ice cream in here."

"You deserve that. You're a criminal! Bye, Mr. Criminal!!"

 ---

  Tony clapped his hands together in an attempt to dust them off as he stared around the packaged remains of his lab. Scribbled formulas and problems had been wiped clean from boards, tables folded and disassembled, and prototypes all packed into boxes ready to be loaded onto the plane in a few days time. Most of what was left in his workplace was personal items and two encased Iron Man armors.

"How we looking on time, Fri?" he asked, grabbing his mug from where he'd placed it on the counter earlier and taking a sip.

"Packing for the move to the compound is on schedule, boss," the AI responded.

"Great," he said, smacking his lips at the comforting bitterness of his coffee, "How's the search for a Queens apartment going?"

"I have several different listings placed into the Itsy Bitsy Spider folder for you to look at."

"Great. Forward them to Pepper."

"Of course, sir."

Satisfied with the prospective of flipping through apartment listings closer to Peter in the evening, he glanced down at his shadow, frowning at the lack of fluffy hair there. It was Tuesday, wasn't it? He checked his watch for the time. Barely eleven. He was pretty sure Peter should be in school by now.

"Friday, is the spider-suit active?"

"Yes, sir."

He frowned harder. "Activate the Baby Monitor Protocol, I want to see what's going on."

"That protocol has been disabled, sir."

"What?"

The AI was silent for a moment before responding, "It has been disabled, along with many others. The only way to reinstate them would be manually."

Tony glanced down at his shadow again. Surely the kid wasn't messing with the suit? And especially not the protocols to keep him safe? And he'd skipped school, too.

"Call Peter."

 ---

  Peter peered over the top of the ferry roof at the men gathering below, who practically screamed shady. He kept an eye on Dronie's recording, the small robot keeping an eye on the other two guys up on the ferry, while Karen highlighted the men below.

"Who’s the guy on the left?" he asked, his spine shivering as he looked at the man.

"Mac Gargan. Extensive criminal record, including homicide. Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark?"

"What? No. I've got this, Karen."

One of the men that Peter had seen at the bridge approached Gargan. Peter could easily pick up his muttered. "White pickup truck."

Gargan nodded at one of his crones, who immediately began walking into the inside of the ferry holding the cars.

"Dronie," Peter whispered. "Scan the ship for a white pickup truck."

He watched the footage apprehensively as Dronie flew farther outside the ferry, x-raying the boat to pick out the truck inside. The robot then zipped over to it, beginning to scan the contents covered in the trunk but flying away and back to Peter as a man stepped out the front. His leg bounced nervously as the robot settled back in his chest, his heart beating erratically.

"Oh, this is too perfect," Peter said. "I got the weapons, buyers, and sellers all in one place."

"Incoming call from Tony Stark."

"No, no, no. No, no, don’t answer."

Despite his protests, the screen of his suit was swept away as Mr. Stark filled his screen. Peter tried not to grimace, keeping a careful eye on the men below even as the billionaire began to speak.

"Mr. Parker. Got a sec?" Mr. Stark greeted with a tight smile.

"Uh, I’m actually at school," Peter lied, ignoring Karen's correction in his ear. "I gotta get back to class, Mr. Stark, so--"

"What class?"

"Uhh--" Shit, what did he have at eleven? "Alge--"

The ferry's horn blared excruciatingly loudly. Peter resisted the urge to grimace, trying to keep an eye on the criminals below still.

"Band. I'm at, uh, band practice."

Mr. Stark stared at him, unimpressed. "That's...odd. You told me you quit band when you started swinging around as Spider-Man."

"I gotta go. Uh, end call."

"Hey," Mr. Stark protested, but the screen clicked close, allowing Peter to clearly see the people below once more. He flicked out a wrist, snapping a web onto a pair of keys being handed over.

"I’ll take those! Yoink!" He flipped, snatching the keys and webbing them to the ceiling. "Hey, guys. The illegal-weapons-deal-ferry was at 10:30. You missed it."

He webbed away the weapons from two guys quickly and threw them into the water. With a shiver up his spine, he ducked out of the way of the approaching man wearing the shocking gauntlet. The man's weaponized arm got stuck in the net on the ferry.

While he was distracted with the gauntlet guy, the other two he'd disarmed had scrambled to their feet, egging for a get away. Peter turned lackadaisically, webbing them

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not so fast." He threw the two to the ground. "Are you guys okay? My bad. That was a little hard. I gotta say the other guy was way better with that thing. I’m honestly, I’m, I’m shocked."

This was going super well.

 ---

  Peter let out a short scream of pain, suspended between the two crumbling halves of the ferry. His arms burned as he gripped at the webs fruitlessly, but he refused to let go. He could hear their heartbeats, fast and afraid and exactly like his own. The teenager panted, straining harder than he ever had before only to continue to fail. The ferry wasn't coming back together, his webs hadn't done anything, and the entire ship was going to fall apart.

And yet he refused to let go, even as he felt his arms tear painfully. He cracked his eyes open, searching desperately for his shadow. It was currently lost in the waves crashing underneath as cars piled into the rushing water. There was a moment, so quick he almost missed it, where a car hood stayed still long enough just for him to make out the shadow.

Of an Iron Man armor.

There was a metal groaning and an easing on his shoulders. Peter looked away from his shadow.

"What the hell?" With the ferry putting itself together, the teenager let himself drop onto the ferry floor, arm raised in fearful apprehension as the sound of metal colliding echoed around the entire boat. "What the hell..."

Mr. Stark in the Iron Man armor rose into view at the windows. Despite the fact that he was wearing a mask, it was easy to tell he looked angry. Or, hopefully, he was reading too much into it and the suit was just mean looking.

"Hi, Spider-Man. Band practice, was it?"

Nope. He sounded mad too. Peter had to force down a shiver, ignoring the clapping people and swinging to the cargo hold as Mr. Stark flew under it, beginning to piece the ship back together. He followed anxiously on the ceiling, turmoil sitting heavy in his stomach as he followed the man.

"Uh, Mr. Stark?" he called nervously. He continued to skitter after the man as he flew up to the ferry's top, trying to catch the man's attention even as he continued to ignore the teenager. "Hey, Mr. Stark. Could I do anything? What do you want me to do?"

"I think you’ve done enough."

Peter couldn't even bear to look at his shadow.

 ---

  "So that’s it, you’re just gonna run?" Adrian asked as Schultz approached with his overflowing duffle bag.

"Feds were waiting for us. Now we’re on Iron Man’s radar? Yeah, I’m running. You should, too."

"You know I can’t do that," Toomes said, glancing down at the shadow of his wife.

"So now what?" Schultz shrugged. Adrian rubbed at his chin.

"Mason, can you get that high-altitude seal thing up and running in time?"

"Seriously?" the engineer asked, comically giddy despite how hilariously screwed they all were. "Yes. You will not regret this."

Adrian turned back to Schultz. "You in?"

The man glanced down on the floor, contemplative. "If we get caught, we're dead. And we have days before that plane takes off. We'll be caught before then. Stark will get us, you know that."

"So we take care of Stark."

"Take care of Stark? You're crazy. How the hell are we gonna to kill Iron Man?"

Adrian thought for a moment, thoughts creeping back to the night over the lake; a defensive boy and an over-eager man and matching shadows. Peter Parker, as had been reported by one of his men following the kid. He even went to Liz's school, on her academic team and everything. He hurt a little to do this, but nothing was more important than family.

"We don't need to kill Stark," Adrian responded. "We just need to insure his compliance."

  ---

Tony finally spotted the kid sitting on the edge of the building, his legs thrown over the side, his mask torn off his face as he stared down at the water. The bulky outline of the Iron Man armor extended behind him, an imposing figure compared to the hunched and shivering kid. The sound of sirens and helicopters rang in the distance, only feeding fuel to the fire that was his anger. It had been two days since he'd given Peter the suit and he'd already hacked it, lied to him, and endangered the lives of more than a hundred people. He'd taken Tony's tech and ran with it, doing what the man had warned the teenager not to do, and almost gotten himself killed too.

It terrified him just as much as it infuriated him.

"Previously on Peter Screws the Pooch," Tony started, hovering next to Peter's spot on the building. "I tell you to stay away from this. Instead, you hacked a multimillion-dollar suit so you could sneak around behind my back doing the one thing I told you not to do."

"Is everyone okay?" Peter rasped.

"No thanks to you."

He clunked down on the ground, but Peter barely even looked at him, just grasping the mask in his fingers tighter. After a tense moment, the kid turned to glare at him, a sour look on his face.

"What do you care?"

The question almost shocked Tony from his anger, but the fury managed to cling on as the suit opened, allowing for him to step out. There was a defensive flicker on Peter's face, washed away as quickly as it came, at the stiff anger glued to his figure.

"What do I care?" he echoed incredulously. "Who the hell gave you the suit that you're wearing right now? The one that you used to go fight people you weren't ready to fight. Peter, you're not prepared for this--"

"I didn't see you doing anything."

"Who do you think called the FBI, huh?" Tony demanded.

"And they got their asses kicked immediately!"

"And you did what exactly?"

Peter swallowed. A soft, angry mumble shivered from his chest. "I just wanted to be like you."

Tony glowered. "And I wanted you to be better."

Peter didn't have an answer to that, turning away with a sharp flinch to stare down at the water again where the ferry was finally beginning to dock. His face was scrunched up in cold anger. Tony stared at him, waiting, but the teenager didn't do anything. Didn't say anything. With an indignant sniff, Tony glanced between the approaching boat of people and the kid sitting stiffly in front of him.

"Okay, it’s not working out. I’m gonna need the suit back."

That caught Peter's attention. His head whipped around and he finally swiveled off of the building's edge, standing to face him. The defensiveness was back in full force now, broken only by a shiver of fear in the tremble on his face.

The teenager swallowed. "For how long?"

"Forever." Peter gaped at him, shaking his head. Tony hit him with a withering expression. "Yeah. Yeah, that’s how it works."

"No, no, no... Please, please, please..." the kid rushed, his voice pitching higher.

"Let’s have it."

"You don’t understand. Please. This is all I have. I’m nothing without this suit."

"If you’re nothing without this suit, then you shouldn’t have it." Tony stopped in his demand, pausing to stare into the distance under the guise of letting Peter absorb his words but really choking down his own panic and regret. This was how he was treating his soulmate. He hadn't known this kid for a week and he'd had maybe two successful conversations with him. And now he was yelling and bringing down and punishing. "God, I sound like my dad."

Peter stared at him, swallowing. "Mr. Stark, please I don't want you to g--"

"The suit. Peter."

He could barely even look at the kid's completely dejected expression.

  ---

Peter meandered down the street, his head down as he forced himself to bite down on tears. It wasn't that hard, he'd had a lot of practice recently after all, but he couldn't deny that it hurt. Well, he could, but not to himself.

With the loss of the suit, Peter's bag was considerably lighter. Empty. It was disturbingly similar to how he felt in the moment, like a stumbling shell of a person.

He'd fucked up. He knew he had. But he didn't think he'd fucked up enough to lose his soulmate. He'd just--he'd just wanted to try and impress Mr. Stark, to show the man that he was worthy of being the shadow that had followed the superhero--his hero--around for fifteen years. He huffed to himself quietly at the horrible irony of it all.

After Mr. Stark had demanded to the suit, well, Peter had given it to him. He hadn't had much other choice. The man had allowed for him to go grab the bag he'd webbed to an alleyway earlier and change into his clothes. Choking down panicked tears, the teenager had folded up the barely used suit, and, after a moment of hesitation, slipped the card, the phone, and the badge given to him into the mask. He wanted to have given him the red hoodie too, but it was the only top he'd had, so he'd reluctantly kept it. He'd given the stuff that was no longer his to the still seething Avenger and had left. Mr. Stark hadn't ask where he was going, so he hadn't told him.

Not that Peter was amazingly sure he knew himself. He didn't want to go back to where Mr. Fowler was surely working from home. Peter was supposed to be at school, the man would be furious that he hadn't gone, and he didn't have the courage to face him right now. The ghosted feeling of a hand tugging at his hair and painful nails in his shoulder was enough to keep him wandering the streets of Queens for as long as he possibly could.

There wasn't a destination, there was barely even a journey, there was just the tired wanderings of a teenager trying desperately not to break down crying. Part of him wished he'd kept the phone, just so he could text Ned, or even lose himself mindlessly on social media for an hour or two, but Mr. Stark's words rang clearly in his head.

"Forever."

Peter shook himself vigorously, taking a wispy breath. Of course he would lose his soulmate not even a week after meeting him. Everyone else had left too, it really only made sense.

He didn't know why he'd let himself hope.

"I don't want you to go."

A painfully strong shiver up his spine forced the teenager to stop in the middle of the alleyway he'd been cutting through. Peter pulled back his sleeve, brows furrowing as the hairs on his arm rose on end. Without his phone, or the watch kept on his webshooter, the teen had no way of knowing what time it was, but it had to have been at least half an hour since Mr. Stark had taken the suit. Since he'd caused a gun to split a ferry full of innocent bystanders in half.

"And I wanted you to be better."

Peter had assumed his senses had continued to freak out from the resounding adrenaline and the complete rush of panic that had been today--from the horribleness of it all--but they still weren't calming down.

Jittery, he turned to leave the alleyway back the way he came, but there was a man blocking his way. He froze when he recognized him and the glitching gauntlet on his arm. From the bridge and the ferry. The man stalked forward.

Peter whipped around to escape towards the other end, but another man stood there as well, a different alien weapon in his hands. Peter paused again, eyes shifting desperately for an escape even as the weapon behind him charged up with a threatening snap.

"Give it up, kid," ordered the man. "Come easy, and we won't hurt you."

"Wow. So reassuring," Peter snapped. Without warning, the teenager leaped, jumping onto the wall as high as he could reach. He attempted to begin skittering up the wall, but there was another spike in his senses.

There was no time to dodge as he was encased by an annoyingly familiar blue light that crashed him to the ground straight into a gathering of trashcans. He groaned in pain as he collided with the metal, the cans tipping over and releasing their contents near and on him. There were footsteps, and he tried to push himself back up, but the man with the gauntlet approached quicker than he could recover.

The teenager stared up at him as the man smirked. The gauntlet cracked.

"Nighty-night."

Peter could only close his eyes as a metal fist came crashing down.

---

~Click for better quality~

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

#friendly neighborhood exchange #peter parker #tony stark #Iron Man #spiderman #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #ironman fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #soulmate au #platonic soulmates #not st*rker #you would not BELIEVE the amount of time i spent on the stupid thing peter is sitting on #idk who designed that #but fuck them

[dragoqueen]

Whoops! Wrong Way 3/8

Summary: Peter has been living at Avengers Tower for 2 years, known to the workers and Avengers as Peter Parker-Stark-Rogers.  When his teacher announces that they're going on a field trip to Avengers Tower, or SI,  he's going to have to attempt to survive a day of embarrassment and keeping a secret identity.

Words: 2023

And here it was, the day of his death. The day of his misery. The day all his worst nightmares would come true. Friday... the field trip.

He had done all he could to convince each and every avenger to not mess with him. He got positive answers from Bruce, Steve, and Thor. However, he was going to have to deal with the rest in any way he could. He had tried to figure out their plan, knowing that they stayed up at night to plan his demise. However, he couldn't figure out a single thing. He had the bright idea to try and figure out what they were doing when he arrived by asking FRIDAY but until then he was doomed.

Tony woke him up an extra 30 minutes earlier than he usually did, not wanting Peter to be late for the field trip. The only good thing he had gotten out of it was that Bucky and Steve had gotten up early too to cook him a smorgasbord of food. He quickly scarfed down enough food to last him the beginning of the day before changing into his outfit and meeting Happy downstairs to get a ride to school.

Somehow, despite getting up early and getting a ride with Happy instead of walking, he was almost late. Almost. He made sure to spend extra long eating his food in hope that he would miss the bus and the school would just make him attend normal classes. Unfortunately, he was just in time to get on the bus and clamber to the back where Ned and MJ were sitting. Sadly, Flash wasn't too far from them either which made the ride to the tower, which he had planned on spending sulking and dying inside, worse.

Flash spent the entirety of the bus ride making jokes of Peter and insulting him. Most of them were intern-related, reminding Peter how he "didn't have an actual internship at Stark Industries" and "wasn't even smart enough to get an internship even at McDonalds". Luckily, before Peter knew it, they had arrived at the tower and the teacher was trying to keep them quiet so he could go check them in and make sure everything was ready.

Then, he got them out of the bus and lined them up in the lobby of the tower for their tour guide to explain the rules to them and hand out their badges. "Alright everyone. I'm Mars and I'm going to be your tour guide today. First, I know you all signed NDA's so please remember anything that happens in this tower that could be secretive you will be forced not to tell anyone or risk getting sued and, let me tell you, we have some very good lawyers. Speaking of the NDA, we are also going to have to confiscate your phones so we don't have you taking pictures or recording things. So I'm going to come by and hold out a basket I expect you to all place your phones in." Mars began walking down the row of children, having them all drop their phones in. when he got to the back where Ned, Peter, and MJ were, he just smiled at them and walked away, having already recognized them and knew that they were authorized to have their phones. Then, he returned to the front of the line where he placed the basket on the counter of the security desk and resumed his place at the front of the line.

"Now, first up on our tour is the Avengers museum. There are all of the first, fails, and worthy achievements of the Avengers. Everything from suits to fun facts can be found there. You will have 45 minutes to wander around before we head up to the intern labs so no dilly-dallying. However, first you're going to have to go through these scanners and scan your badge. For example..." Mars walks to the metal archway and scans his lanyard on the scanner before stepping through. The voice of FRIDAY spooks everyone except for Mars, Peter, MJ, and Ned, "Mars Bars, level 4, access limited."

"What the heck was that?" Cindy asks.

"That was FRIDAY. She's an AI that Tony built, she basically runs this building. But, back on track. Who's next?"

"Me!" Flash shouts, pushing his way to the front and scanning his lanyard before walking through, smug and confident that he was first.

"Eugene Thompson, Level 1, access very limited."

Flash smirks at his name being said by something that Tony Stark created. He walks forward to stand next to Mars while his next classmate goes. One by one, each of the students scan and walk through for Friday to announce their name and the same level and access type. Up until it was MJ's turn. She did the same as all of her other classmates, scanning her lanyard and then stepping through the metal archway but this time FRIDAY announces, "Michelle Jones, "Boss Girl" level 9, full access. Should I alert Scary Girl or Ms. Potts of your arrival?"

"No, that's okay FRIDAY. I'm on a field trip."

"Okay, have a good time." FRIDAY responds, causing everyone to stare at MJ in surprise. She just smirked before returning to her normal glare and stepped into the cluster of kids. Next was Ned, "Ned Leeds, "that one annoying hacker kid" level 9, full access. Shall I alert Science Bro #2 of your arrival?"

"No, FRIDAY. Bruce knows I'm on a field trip. Thanks though."

"Enjoy your time." FRIDAY answers.

Same procedure. The entire class stares at Ned in wonder and confusion. He blushes in response to the sudden attention and takes his spot in the cluster next to MJ. Last in line was Peter. He had been fearing this moment, knowing that he had the highest level in the tower, next to the other Avengers. Plus his nickname from Tony and Clint was sure to cause some questions to arise. However, dutifully, he stepped up and scanned his lanyard and stepped through. "Peter Parker, "Mini-Stark" level 10, full access. Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark of your arrival?"

"No! I mean... no that's alright FRIDAY. He probably knows I'm here anyways."

"Enjoy your trip, Peter."

He inwardly groans at the fact that she called him Mini-Stark, but was happy she had called him Peter Parker, rather than Peter Parker-Stark-Rogers. Tony must have cared somewhat of Peter's confidentiality if he changed that. He ignores the stares from his classmates and the smirk from Mars as he joins MJ and Ned in the middle of the group. "Alright, continuing with the tour if you will all join me in this elevator we will go up to the Avengers museum,"

While they all walk over to the elevator and begin piling into the cramped space. When Peter's in, Mars asks FRIDAY to take them up to the 12th floor where the Avengers museum was. Flash leans over and whispers into Peter's ear, "hey, Penis, how'd you manage to hack the AI to make it seem like you and your nerd friends have such a high access? We all know you're lying so just give up." Peter sighs and doesn't say anything, opting to move out of reach of Flash so that MJ is blocking them.

A/N:

For the sake of my sanity let's assume it's a big and strong elevator that holds all like 25-30 of his class okay? Thanks y'all

The door opens to the museum and the class spills out and begins exploring all of the corners of the museum. Each section was dedicated to a specific Avenger. The kids who wanted a more in depth explanation of things stayed by Mars who was walking around and giving his little "tour guide spiel" about the museum. Peter, MJ, and Ned, who had already explored the museum many times, walked around leisurely to explore different things that appeared to have been updated since the last time they were here.

At one point, Ned dragged Peter excitedly to a new section where Tony had added in a Spider-Man section. Peter observed the information happily...

" 1. Spider-Man prefers hanging from the wall than standing on the floor

2. Spider-Man's favorite snack is gummies.

3. Spider-Man is deathly afraid of spiders. "

"Dude, you're afraid of spiders? How?"

"First of all, shut it. Second, just because I have spider-like powers doesn't mean I like the creature. They're freaky."

Ned just laughs and continues to explore the exhibit. Peter looks over the things and makes a mental note to thank his dads later. The things included in it were incredible, a plaque with the phrase, "with great power comes great responsibility." And referencing his Uncle Ben. His first suit was also in a display case along with some of his old web fluid and a physical design of his webs that wouldn't disintegrate.

Suddenly, he felt an eerie presence provided by his Spidey Sense. He looked around the room, trying to detect where the threat warning could be coming from. Flash and his goons were all in a different section so it definitely wasn't them. And no one else was really around that could be threatening. Just then, he got a warning that someone was going to be coming out of the vents in 3... 2... 1... he stepped out of the way just in time to watch Clint fall out of the vents and crumple onto the ground. Then he jumps right up as if nothing had happened and smiles at Peter. (A/N: Clint was the imposter)

"Clint what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to embarrass you. But also Bucky made cookies this morning and Morgan threatened to take away my venting privileges if I didn't bring any to you."

"And you got scared of a 6 year old because... why?"

"She's scary. Also she has Wanda and Pepper on her side."

"Ooh, yeah. You'd better watch out for that. But, Bucky made cookies? Gimme."

Clint grins and reaches into his pocket to grab a cookie that's wrapped in a plastic bag. It's a triple chocolate cookie with extra chocolate chunks. The cookie is still warm so Peter can only assume it came out of the oven moments before. He takes a bite into it and it almost melts in his mouth. He lets out a sigh of comfort and tucks the cookie, in the plastic bag, into his pocket.

By this time someone had noticed that The Hawkeye was here and had shouted to the rest of the group. A crowd had gathered around him and were all shouting questions.

"What's your favorite thing about being an Avenger?"

"Whos' the scariest Avenger?"

"How do you know Pen- Peter?"

Peter cringes at the last one. He's sure Clint hears it and his suspicions are only confirmed when Clint's casual smile disappears and he turns to glare at Flash. "What did you call Peter?"

"I- uh.. I called him Peter, sir."

"Is that right? Mmh... you better watch yourself kid. And you'll have time to ask questions at the Q & A at the end of the tour with some of the other Avengers."

"Uh... Q & A? That's not on the list of things to do." Mars comments, having migrated over to where the crowd of kids had formed.

"One of your co-workers will inform you of the change in schedule during lunch. Don't worry, it was pre-approved by Tony."

"Mr. Stark? Oh, well... okay cool. Anyways, I think it's time Mr. Barton has to go. After all, we have to continue on with our tour as our 45 minutes are up. Everyone say bye to him."

A majority of goodbyes are shouted out, along with quite a few phone numbers. Clint gives them a mock salute before jumping back in the vents and crawling off to who knows where. Peter only calms down when his heightened senses are no-longer able to hear Clint clambering through the vents. Mars leads them all into the elevator and the doors slide shut, taking them up to their next destination, the intern labs. 

#avengers #domesticavengers #peterparker #irondad #spiderson #spidermom #fieldtripau #spideypool

[maraud-moons]

first one shot ahhh

tw- minor mentions of death

us? never.

third year was the first time he asked her out officially. that infuriating hair and cocky grin he flashed her way before sauntering over to her with a confidence that no fourteen year old should have. ‘so what do you say me and you go on a date evans? you know, tell everyone that we’re an item.’ she grit her teeth because god if he was anything other than infuriating before spitting out ‘us? never.’

fourth year came and the marauders were still as exasperating as ever but she would be lying if she said they weren’t a welcome distraction for her. their constant loud energy let her think about something other than how these days behind severus’s words seemed to linger something so much darker. but all gratefulness for the distraction vanishes immediately when a filibuster bursts right above her at the gryffindor table and now there’s orange juice all over the front of her blouse and all she can see is red. she storms over to the four boys with the innocent looks one their faces and she doesn’t really remember what it was she said but she does know it would’ve been enough to make a grown man cry but not the marauders. especially not james potter. while the other three have the decency to look at least a little scared, potter just sits there with the most self satisfied expression on his face. and then he had the audacity to speak, ‘merlin evans you sure are creative with your swearing. godric’s burning ballsack? it’s inspired really. we could use that talent. your brilliance and my charm, we would make a pretty spectacular team don’t you think?’ lily just stares at him because god if he was anything other than infuriating but it was 8 in the morning and she was already drained so she just said ‘us? never.’

fifth year and she was on the train on her way home for christmas, her body filling with dread, already anticipating the colder than ice welcome she’ll receive from her sister especially now after the blow up in summer after she got the prefect badge. marlene, dorcas and mary were staying at hogwarts that christmas and alice was a bit lost in her newly found romance with frank longbottom and she didn’t want to interrupt their honeymoon phase so she sat alone in the compartment and tried her best not to wallow in self pity. then there was a knock at her door and in glided james potter in all his arrogant glory. she glared at him in an attempt to say ‘what in the living hell are you doing here?’ and he just stared back with a calm but equally challenging expression. she couldn’t tell how long they stayed like that for but after a while he accepted mock defeat and replied to her telepathic question ‘i just wanted to know why you were sitting here all alone and sad when such kindred and fun-‘

‘and glorious!’ called sirius black from god knows where.

‘-and glorious spirits are sitting in the compartment right across from you.’

she rolled her eyes and responded, ‘i’m not alone and sad.’

‘please you can smell the gloom the moment you walk in here’ he scoffed.

‘it’s a lot potter but we aren’t friends so it’s alright you don’t have to listen to my problems.’

he mock gasped ‘how dare you, it happens to be my life’s purpose to listen to your problems. and i must embrace my destiny.’

she could feel the corners of her mouth tug up and she mentally screamed at herself because no no no she is not smiling at something james potter said because this is james potter and god if he was anything other than infuriating. she looked at him and despite the humour in his words she saw genuine concern in his face. so she, as briefly as she could, explained the situation with her sister and they kept talking and somehow, by the time the last rays of the setting sun were filtering in through the window, they were still talking. ‘anything from the trolley dears?’ they both looked up to see the trolley witch smiling at them kindly and james nodded and bought some food. before she could reach for her purse, james was already paying. he fixed her with a stare as if to say ‘don’t even try’ so she just grabbed a licorice wand and bit into it. the trolley witch gave james his change and right before she left she smiled and said ‘so you both are finally together huh?’ and james grinned a smile wider than anything she’s seen before while lily choked on her licorice wand before spluttering out ‘us? never.’

sixth year came and lily couldn’t look at either snape or potter in the face because she was furious, but she was also so so hurt. she ignored the signs for so long and it finally came back to bite her in the ass. and now the damage has been done and whenever she sees snape watching her in the corridors or in the great hall, he was always with an expression of great sadness but she knows it was more for himself than anyone else. and potter. with snape she was sure what she was feeling, an unmistakable sense of hatred. but with potter it was a haze. she didn’t know whether to hate him or thank him for being the reason she saw snape’s true colours. so she ignored it. and she got away with it until one day, she heard him shouting her name from across the crowded hall. she put her head down and tried to blend into the crowd but apparently potter now has an eye like a hawk and immediately spotted her trying to slip onto one of the staircases. she hurriedly tried to climb up and a hand caught her wrist and pulled her back just as she noticed the step in front of her had moved to join another staircase ‘damn these moving staircases’ she internally cursed hogwarts and it’s incredibly horrendous timing. ‘merlin evans watch where you’re going’ came james potter’s slightly out of breath voice ‘you may be terrible at hiding but you sure are fast.’ ‘aren’t you supposed to be an athlete?’ she muttered, looking for the closest exit and then noticed james’s hand still gripping her wrist. ‘har dee har har,’ he replied sarcastically ‘i need to talk to you.’. lily sighed, she knew this was gonna happen eventually so she just nodded at him to lead the way. he gently pulled her down the school and a few minutes later, she was sitting in a well furnished secret tunnel, not surprised in the slightest because what else could you expect from the marauders. then james launched into a winded speech about how he’s really sorry evans and other than the few slightly inappropriate innuendos here and there it was a genuine apology and she found herself nodding when he softly asked ‘so can we put this all behind us and be friends?’. so a few days later the school was buzzing with news that james potter and lily evans actually walked to class together without any minor casualties. lily still found him and his puns exasperating because god if he was anything other than infuriating. but they were friends now and she didn’t mind it? not one bit. ‘should i be jealous now?’ marlene asked one day when they were walking to the lake together. lily looked at her confused and asked ‘what why?’

‘because you and potter are best friends now aren’t you?’

lily looked at marlene with a roll of her eyes and a very small smile

‘us? never.’

seventh year and they were so close to the end. in a few months it would all be over and they would leave the castle and all the magic it held behind. to become soldiers. like it or not they were all going to fight. and god was lily terrified. faces of the missing flashed through her mind at the worst times and she knew, everyone knew, this wasn’t going to end anytime soon. not unless they all fought and won the war or died trying. and she was so so scared for everyone she loved. marlene, dorcas, mary, alice, frank, peter, sirius, remus, james. james. lily thought of the quidditch captain and how absolutely stunned she had been when she saw him in the beginning of the year with the head boy badge. one glance and she could tell he had changed. he stood up taller, not with arrogance but with the stance of someone ready to lead. he talked with purpose and acted the same. james potter had grown up. and she could tell it was for his family, for sirius. and she noticed it all. yeah noticing is one thing but the slow fluttering in her stomach when she did? completely different. and she tried so damn hard to ignore them because she can’t focus on romance when she or anyone around her might die any day. and that was exactly what she was thinking about when she looked down at the daily prophet that day and read the front page article. death eaters strike muggle town. killed 4. she choked back a sob as she saw her town’s name on the smaller print and as she read the names she slowly processed the words. suzzane edward. she had known suzanne, been best friends with her as a child and even talked to her last summer. and now she was gone. her and her whole family. she was devastated for them. she put down the paper with a start and looked around the table to see almost everyone at the table clutching a paper in their hands, their expressions varying from horror to defeat as they took in the tragic familiarity of it all. the rest of the day went by in a blur and by the end of the day she sat in the common room trying as hard as she could to focus on the relevance of the goblin wars to today’s banking system. she could hear wisps of conversations floating from parts of the room and she heard marlene say ‘they were found lying next to each other. i’ve read so many people say that even if they died, they died having found their soulmate.’ and upon hearing that, something inside lily sparked. she had to do something and she had to do it now. she knew peter was attending a study group tonight and sirius and remus were merlin knows where and she did know james did not have practice today so she shoved her parchment aside and like a woman on a mission stalked up the stairs to the boys dormitory. and as she took the last few steps her mind caught up to what she was doing and she paused ‘oh god what am i gonna say when i go up there and what? james potter isn’t your soulmate.’ she sighed and turned around about to leave but then her thoughts interrupted her once again ‘isn’t he?’ and that was the last push she needed. she near sprinted up the stairs again, grabbed the handle and barged into the dormitory with the initials j.p. s.b. r.l. and p.p. carved into the door. she entered breathless, to find james sitting in bed in an old t-shirt and

‘bright red snitch pajamas??!!??’

‘evans!!??’

she couldn’t help her laughter, ‘you wear snitch pajamas!’ she snorted.

james was too startled to even look embarrassed ‘evans what are you doing here? are you okay?’ this sobered lily up immediately and she looked around and remembered what she was there to do and managed to stammer ‘oh- uh- yeah.’

‘yeah?’ james asked, still visibly confused.

lily took in a deep breath, ‘okay you got one chance, DO NOT screw it up.’

‘okay well- shit. okay so you know how there’s a war going on right? of course you do. yeah so i heard marlene talk about soulmates and how dying together is better than living without one and hell when i heard that the first person i thought of was you. all these years i kept turning you down cause i found you immature, annoying and quite frankly infuriating and i didn’t expect that to change and then you show up this year and god you changed. you stopped being an arrogant asshole, you stopped walking around like you owned the place and you changed for the better and i couldn’t believe it. then i saw how you were with the firsties and how well you took care of them and when simon hubell needed help with his transfiguration homework, you stayed up all night helping him. and everyone kept telling me you changed for me but i knew, it was for your brother and it made me want to punch a wall because you’ve become a 100 times better person than you already were and how was i so oblivious. and of course i saw what changed in you but i also saw what didn’t. your hair is still as messy as ever and you still run your hands through it whenever you’re nervous or anxious and your laugh, it still fills up a room with joy like it always did, it’s infectious. and you’re still so determined, i mean, whether it was asking me out or anything about the war, you never gave up and you inspired almost everyone in the school. and your eyes. they’re still the chocolate brown they’ve always been and they still turn lighter, almost amber when you’re happy and turn near black when you’re angry and there’s that shine in them that only shows up when you’re up to no good and lately i’ve seen that shine when you’re talking about the war and god those eyes. i’ve slowly fallen in love with them and i can’t help it anymore. ironic isn’t it?i guess your pining methods do work potter. cause here i am in your dorm almost at midnight declaring my love for you.’

she let out a giant breath and stared at james waiting for something, anything. he stared at her, right at her and slowly got up from the bed and walked across the room, never once breaking eye contact and came to stand less than a hair breadth away from her, his eyes shining in a way she’s never seen before. ‘you aren’t pranking me now are you evans? because if this is revenge for all the pranks i would like to let you know that you would’ve broken my heart, like completely shatter-‘

‘no you toerag. i’m not pranking you.’

‘oh okay-‘

‘because if i was, would i do this?’

then she reached up to cup his jaw and met his lips and she could see it all. the stars, the moons and her entire future. with him.

after what felt like an eternity of bliss they broke apart and rested their foreheads against each other’s. ‘i love you james potter, more than you’ll ever know.’ she whispered.

‘oh i know, because i love you an infinity times more lily evans.’

so as she left the dorm that night, both of their eyes shining with something new and so so much brighter, he called out ‘so does this mean we’re together now evans?’ with a grin in his words.

she turned around, smiling and eyes sparkling.

‘us? never.’

#us?never #jameswearssnitchpajamastryandconvincemeotherwise #jily #jilyfic #jilyoneshot #james potter #lily evans #lily evans x james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #wolfstar #marlene mckinnon #hogwarts #gryffindor #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #slytherin #toerag #jily fic

[lennydaisy]

SWAN SONG || The Walking Dead AU

‘You have to trust that every friendship has no end, that a communion of saints exists among all those, living and dead, who have truly loved God and one another.

You know from experience how real this is. Those you have loved deeply and who have died live on in you, not just as memories but as real presences.’

HENRI NOUWEN

                         The Walking Dead.

        Season 1-?

                                         FEM OC! and ?

This is the prologue for a Walking dead AU that I wrote ages ago, and I feel like its too good to waste. So here it is :))

‘Now to John, who's live at the scene. John, what's happening there?'

'I'm here at Central Atlanta Hospital where there has been a reported disturbance within the wards. Patients allegedly have gone rogue, biting and scratching the doctors and each other.'

'If we pan to our left here, you can see the hallways are overflowing with newly found patients from the attacks.'

Glancing up at the ancient box TV perched in the top corner of the room, eyebrows frowned as I take another bite of my bland chicken sandwich.

The screen displays a lit yellow Hospital hallway with beds and chairs cluttering the space. With no room to breathe, the patients packed together like a tin of sardines.

The camera zooms into one patient in particular, who judging by their attire is a nurse themselves. A sickly colour of unnatural grey washed over their face, a layer of sweat glistening under the cheap lights and her veins protruding from her neck as though she's struggling to keep herself calm.

'Miss, would you be able to explain how your feeling?'

I can't help but scoff at the reporter's request. She is clearly in no condition to answer any of his questions and it's downright ignorant to shove a microphone in the face of a woman who has clearly seen better days.

The women slowly turned to face the reporter, her eyes appearing to lack any colour with bags drooping down to her jaw, and glares with all she can muster. Despite clearly being exhausted from whatever is happening to her body, she has no problem expressing her aggravation towards the man.

'Not responsive I see. Well no mind, as the viewers at home can see, Central Hospital is in desperate need of doctors and nurses. So I'm here to announce that if there is anyone-'

I don't know how to describe what I just saw. Just know that it was revolting enough to put me off chicken sandwiches forever.

In the midst of the reporter's announcement, a pair of hands slowly made their way around his body. Their nails were bitten down to stumps, their fingers a troubled colour of blue as though clogged with blood. The sickly hands, lazily but purposefully, claw at the reports button-up shirt from behind. Tugging on the attachments like grips, the women who the reporter was previously questioning is now sinking her teeth into the man's neck. Trails of blood dripping from her lips as she pulls her jaw roughly away from his neck taking a clump of him with her.

The look of pure horror wash over the man's faces, and mines in probably mimicking his. I've never seen anyone's eyes pop so far from their head. The face of sheer panic and terror covering his visuals as he opens his mouth to let out what I can only assume to be a deafening scream but before a sound is made the camera quickly cuts back to the studio, where the two anchors are now shaking at the sight they just witnessed live.

'We'll be back after this quick intermission,' squeaked out the anchor, eyes still wide, never leaving the screen off camera.

'Were you recently involved in an accident?',  the convenient ad was interrupted by the television being turned off. Snapping my head to my right, only to be met by the sheepish face of Darcy, the department receptionist. Smiling weakly at me from her desk, "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

Nothing to worry about. "Were we just watching the same clip," I breathe baffled at the idea of not worrying about what we just witnessed, "That man just had his neck bitten into but some Wednesday Adams looking women," I laughed, struggling myself to understand what just happened.

"I'm sure he's fine," she waves her hand in my direction before quickly standing up as I did seconds before, " What are you doing?" She questions as I grab my hat off my peg.

Rolling my eyes as I make the reach for my keys, "My job," my fingers scraping the keys before they are snatched out of my reach. Looking up at the elderly women with bored eyes, I hold my hands out waiting for her to cave.

"No, half the department is already helping the city, we need you here in Kings County," she argues quickly running back to her desk, sliding into her roller chair. Out of my vision but not hearing, I hear the clashing of keys, the slamming of metal and the sound of a lock.

She locked my keys in her desk.

"Darcy- " I begin only to be interrupted.

"No" she heaves, hands crossed over her chest tightly, "It's bad enough those two are God knows where doing God knows what, I can't allow the only deputy left in the building to leave."

I would be annoyed and honestly, I am, the woman isn't not letting me do my job, but with just a simple look in her eyes I can see why she doesn't want me to leave, "You're scared," I point out pulling my chair over to the front of her desk, sitting my hat on the table.

Refusing to meet my eyes answered my assumption. She was scared and she had every right to be. What we just watched on the news isn't normal but it's not the first we've heard of this 'infection'. It's been going on for weeks, especially in the city. Residents reporting sights of people staggering through the streets, grabbing and biting anything they can get their hands on. Honestly sounds like a typical weekend in the city in my opinion, after a couple of drinks, you'd be surprised what some people turn into. I haven't seen any of these things personally but that news clip just made everything people have been bustling about all too real.

"These things are apparently migrating. It's not just a city virus, they're making their away out into places like this," her hands brushing the nonexistent lint off the top of my hat, her voice so soft, if you didn't listen closely enough you'd miss it.

"I'm not going to fill you with false hope because honestly, I have no idea what is happening but I will say this if I know you at all, something like a little virus isn't going to be the end to the bombshell that is Darcy Peters."

A small smile begins to creep onto her face, "You should have seen me in my youth," flipping her white shoulder-length hair.  Shaking my head with a giggle, I lean over her desk and turn her desktop towards me looking at the set back of work left for her to complete. Moving the mouse to the bottom of the screen I log her off, " Take the rest of the day off."

Knowing fine well she would say no, I left her no room for arguments as I hastily grabbed her coat passing it to her, "Don't tell me no Peters, Deputies orders," I said with authority behind my voice but eventually broke out into a smile at the delightful women before me.

"But what about-" she points at the computer addressing the work she still had to do. Grabbing the women's hands as I begin to drag her out the door, "Don't worry I'll handle it but you need to go home and chill out," snatching her car keys as I begin walking with her hand in hand to her beloved mustard Ford Fiesta.

Opening the driver's door, "M'lady," I bow holding the door. Shaking her head at my act, she wraps her arms around my shoulders, brings me in for a hug, slightly shocked but I hug her back none less, "Thank you, Macy," she laughs in my ear before pulling away, cupping my face like an affectionate grandmother.

Slapping my cheeks lightly she points her finger timidly at my face, "Now no running off play superhero, you're needed here," her eyes never leaving mine as though to challenge me to say otherwise. Well, I like a challenge, "No promises."

A dead look in her eyes causes me to laugh once more, "Okay, I promise I won't run off, I'll stay put. Now beat it, tell Richard I say hi," closing the door behind the women before stepping away from her car.

Just before she was about to drive off, she rolls down her window, "Oh before I forget, here's the key to the desk. Also there's something for Officer Friendly in there you won't miss it," see spoke throwing the flimsy key my way. Nodding my head towards the women, I mockingly salute her off, catching a glimpse of her rolling her eyes smiling.

Tossing the small, rusted key between my hands, I make my way back to Darcy's desk. After a couple of shakes and jiggles, the lock to the drawer eventually clicks. Pulling open the drawer, I grab my car keys stuffing them in my back pocket. That's when my eyes catch a shine reflecting out of the space. Reaching my hand in my finger brush across metal embroidery.

A Sheriff badge.

Unable to help the smile that made its way to my face as I stare down at the achievement of my friend. 'Officer Friendly's going to flip. So will someone else but for a different reason.' Shaking the thought from my head, I quickly run round to the desk of the newly found Sheriff. Going to place the shining badge on the desk, a note stops me;

Gone for a quick lapse of the county. If I'm not back by finish, I'll see you tomorrow, Officer Friendly.

Still sitting the badge on his desk, hoping that he at least makes it back in an hour, his face will be priceless. Snatching the remote from the floor, I flick the television back on, wanting to see if there are any updates on the situation.

'Government officials have requested that everyone stays inside their homes, only leaving unless extremely necessary. Until this is contained, please be cautious. This has been channel 5's news.'

Drowning out the rambling of the adverts, I absorb myself I'm my phone. 7 texts, damn I'm popular.

From Corey. Hey, can you drop me off :) Sent 07:39

From Corey. Oft okay never mind then I know I broke 3 of your car window, but that doesn't forbid access does it?? Fine two can play at that game, I'll walk. Ummmm that's when you're supposed to be the super big sister and say 'no sweet little sister, don't walk and ruin your BRAND NEW BOOTS, I'll happily drop you off' Boo you, you suck :(( Sent at 07:57

From Corey. Hey, can you pick me up ;) Sent at 17:12

This girl, I swear.

To Corey. I'll think about it :)) Sent Now.

Collecting my things, preparing myself for my leave. All too quickly trying to rush out the door, I skid to a halt and turn round to a certain desk in particular. Contemplating my options, I decided to take the newly found badge with me. For one; it is past shift time and I really want to witness his face when he gets promoted.' I'll just give it to him tomorrow when everyone's here', I thought.

Now I'm well aware that my car isn't exactly the best site for sore eyes, I'll be the first to admit that, but it was my dream car and it was the first real big purchase I ever made as an adult. My glorious, yellow Volkswagen Beetle. She's seen better days that for sure, but she means a lot to me and a couple of bumps and scratches isn't going to make me trade her in. Ever.

I grew up in Mormont, Georgia. A small county that no one has heard of and when people ask where I'm from I'm always met with the same look. In Mormont everybody knows everybody. It's a tight-knit community with no secrets. When word got out the resident widow had adopted 3 girls from the now shut down orphanage, the community was sent into a frenzy.

The same woman who was framed for burning down her old farmhouse that her husband happened to be still asleep in, was now going to be a mother of 3 very different daughters.

Without my mom I wouldn't even be here today, I would be how I am today. Mom adopted me when I was 4 years old, and even at a young age, I know that something about me was different from the other kids at kindergarten. Kids would come and leave joyfully holding the hands of their parents whitest they rambled on about what we did that day. I would leave on a bus with a woman who didn't really care enough to remember my name, looking after me in the centre was just a 9 to 5 for her and she got to go home to her family without a care in the world. I will never forget the day I was called down to the main office.

Believing that I had done something wrong, I reluctantly climbed down the creaking bunk beds steps. Looking around the room, I'm met with many stares, some glaring, some shaking their heads. I was in a room surround by judgemental toddlers.

I've never been called down to the office before. I've seen others been called down and they never come back. Tommy told me that Glenda, the houses mistress, feeds them to the two-headed man in the attic. I never believed him, knowing that he only wanted to scare me but now I'm not so sure. 'I don't want to be eaten', I thought.

One step at a time, I slowly make my way down the wooden steps that despite my lightweight still shriek under my shoes. Before I reach the bottom of the stairs, I'm met by the glorious Glenda. Her lopsided, spectacles clawed eyes boring down at me, 'Come,' she said before spinning around and heading to the room she just walked out from, 'There's someone here to see you."

'Someones here to see me? But I don't know anybody' I thought to myself as I follow behind the women with a newfound spring in my step.

"Mason this is Charlotte, she'd like to adopt you."

I guess you could say that's when I knew. When I first land my eyes on hers, I felt something that then in my short 4 years of life had never felt before, safe. Fast forward 22 years and that feeling had never left. Like the light of an eternal flame, that shine behind my mom's eyes never left, never even flickered. It's a constant reminder, I knew it when I was 4 years old and I still know it now at 26, that home isn't found in a physical building but instead found in those you surround yourself with.

No matter how hard I try, I will never be able to fully express my gratitude towards my mother. She gave me a chance and took me into her home with open arms. She says 'Thats what mothers do' and that might be true but she didn't have too. That's just the type of person she is. A heart of gold, a heart that is far too big for this world. She might not be my birth mother but in my opinion no one could do better, I don't know what I did in a past life to deserve the right to call her my mother, all I know is that I'm forever thankful for that.

Cora, or Corey, my sweet baby sister. The best way to describe her would be prissy. A real drama queen but strong-minded. When it comes to Corey no mountain is too high. Basically it's Corey's world and we're all just live in it. I take deep pride in telling her that she was an ugly baby and I'm not telling any lies. One look at her baby pictures sends a shiver down your spine.

She's your basic stressed college student who believes that the world will end if she fails to hand in one essay on time, but has no problem with partying the night before a big exam. Beginning to understand what type of person Corey is?

Then there's Ally. The big sister, my big sister. I remember growing up and always wanting to be like her when I grew up, I thought she was the coolest person in the world. She shaved off her hair when she was 18 and me and my 8-year-old self desired to do the same. Mom was mortified and kids at school did laugh at me for a while but I didn't care, I wanted to be like my sister, buzz cut and all.

As I grew up however I realised something, Ally had a darkness inside her. When I was younger I never noticed, I always saw her acts for rebellion as inspiration for my own mischief but as I got older and matured, she never. She always stayed the same. It some cases that's a good thing if you're a good person that is. I never believed my sister to be a bad person, more troubled than anything. I think why you get to the age of 36 and still rebel against your mother like an edgy teenager somethings not right.

Ally thinks the world is constantly against her, that the whole world is testing her, but that couldn't be further from the truth. I was the first to know she was pregnant, she didn't tell me herself but the positive stick sitting in the bathroom bunker was a big give away. I've seen her anger a handful of times and more often than not it consumes her, her anger is her own worse enemy and that day I meet the worst of it. There was a lot of screaming and hitting, and things being thrown in my direction. Luckily enough no one else was home when all this happened, but it was quite hard to explain why I had a black eye and Ally had burst knuckles. I lied, that's what I did.

'I got jumped,' it was the best I could come up with at the time. I made up a story of me being mugged and Ally saving the day. Mom barked up a storm, ask question after question, and I was slowly running out of ideas for my action sequence. That was until Ally spoke up,

'I'm going away for a while,' she said placing her fork down on her barely touched the plate, 'Work,' she replied to the looks that were sent her way. I refused to meet her eyes but I knew fine well that she was staring at me in particular, that didn't stop me from listening though.

'Oh, well for how long?,' Mom asked swirling around her glass of wine, 'A couple of months.'

'And what work relate thing causes you to be away for a couple of months?' Corey spoke up, her eyes never leaving Ally's as though to challenge her, 'The companies looking for a new manager, I thought I would try and run for it. It is more money,' she spoke trying to convince not only Cora but our reluctant mother too. Reluctant and our mom isn't two words that I would put together, she's a keen believer of 'if you want it, go and get it', but not when it comes to Ally.

'It seems like a good opportunity,' mother said honestly, nodding her head at her oldest daughter, 'seems like bullshit,' I muttered under my breath causing my mom to kick my shin from under the table, only to be faced with the stern stare of my mom.

'Language Mason' sternly spoke our mom making Cora laugh slightly at the use of my full real name.

'I'm just saying, she seems to go on a lot of these trips and comes back empty-handed every time, sorry for having some doubt.'

'That's enough Cora,' Mom said not breaking eye contact with her youngest who is sitting across the dinner table from her, 'yeah whatever, can I be excused?' Before she could get an answer she was already on her feet marching out the room.

Nodding sadly, mom looked around the table at the remaining 2, 'Macy, darling,  you've barely touched your dinner.'

Meeting her eyes, 'I had a big lunch,' the lies pouring out my mouth at this point.

The rest of the dinner that night was filled with awkward silence. The sound of the chair next to me scraping against the old hardwood floor breaks my concentrated gaze on my plate. Ally's hard duty boots marching out of the room and storming up the stairs.

My mom let out a sigh and placed her fork on her now empty plate, looking up at the only remaining daughter at the table. Flashing my mom a small smile, taking a sip of my now lukewarm water, "You make good spaghetti mom"

"Go check on her for me please," she practical begged, her voice suggesting nothing but defeat, "She never talks to me anymore."

'I'm probably the last person she wants to see," is what I wanted to say to my mom, but looking at my mother with her head in her hands at the thought of my troubled older sister broke my heart.

Before taking the dreaded walk up the stairs and to the door at the end of the hall, I placed a hand on my mom's shoulder, squeezing in reassurance.

'Everything will be okay.' I thought to myself.

Knocking on the door, only to receive no reply, 'I know you're in there,' I said continuously knocking on the oak door. Getting bored with being ignored, I did the brave and open the forbidden door, Ally's bedroom door.

Ally's bedroom is something, I don't know what that something is but it screams Ally. It's dishevelled yet bland, perfect for Ally I guess. Nothing but a set of drawers with half the handles missing, piles of dirty washing sitting in the corner of her room that will probably stay there for weeks, and a chipped dark wood bed. And then there's Ally, who is currently packing a bag.

'There is no business trip is there?' I asked even though I fine well knew the answer already. Throwing the last of her clothes in the bag, she stares me dead in the eye from her position at the bottom of her bed, 'I have to get out of here.'

Walking further into her room as she walks back to her drawers closing them loudly, 'Promise me one thing,' I asked looking out the window at the deserted street. Hearing no noise for behind me I continued, 'That we'll get to meet them one day,'

'I can't promise you that,' turning round to stare at her in confusion, 'what you're never coming back?' I asked softly shaking my head at the idea of her leave and never returning. Ally goes away a lot but she always comes back. We might not be as close as we use to be when I was younger but it's a comfort to know that she's here with us.

She just looked at me not speaking yet her glances spoke a thousand words. I didn't know silence could get any quieter but I was proven wrong in that moment. It was as though the whole world stopped spinning, it was like the world ended right and then. Shaking my head at my sister mentality, my heartbreaking even at the thought of what she wanted to do, 'Oh,' was the only response I muster up as I move to sit at the edge of the bed, my legs suddenly feeling like jello.

Rubbing my hands over my eyes and tugging at my hair, trying to get all my thoughts to settle down. The feel of a hand softly holding my shoulder caught my attention. Looking down at me was my sister, my big sister, that I wanted with every fibre of my being to be like when I grew up. But people change, and Ally surely did. That moment made me realise something, Ally never changed. No, she was always the same. It was me who changed, I was just too young to realise.

The day that Ally left, a part of myself left with her, and that necessarily wasn't a bad thing. No, she took the naive part with her. The sense that everything was okay now, that everything was perfect now because I had a family. Sometimes families go through rough patches and for some reason ours was never-ending.

Shaking my head, snapping myself out of my thoughts, focussing once more on my journey home. I love county lanes, there the best to drive on. You can go as fast as you want and when you go over a little hill you get those silly butterflies in the pit of your stomach. My family hates driving with me on these roads. Apparently I'm too careless when it comes to driving, I argue that I'm not careless I'm just used to acting like I'm in the Fast and Furious movies.

Speaking of radical driving, I hit the breaks slowly once I spot what's up ahead. A car parked sporadically in the middle of the lane, but that's not what's got me confused. There are people, a headcount of about ten, all banging their hands lazily on the windows of the car, smearing their faces over the glass.

Cutting the engine, leaning over to the car pocket reaching for my emergency gun, I slowly stalk my way out of the car. Holding the gun with both hands at the ground, the safety still on as I make my way closer but not too close.

"Hey, what are you guys doing, what's the problem-" my voice slowly losing its confidence as the figures around the car turn to face me and begin to walk drunkenly towards me. The noise they make doesn't sound too good, the air now filled with grunts and groans, the sounds of pain. I noticed a couple not paying me any mind, to busy eating something. Oh.

Realising exactly what I'm witnessing. Those are the sick people that has the world on edge. A group of them a coming right towards me. Raising my gun and flipping the safety off, I take aim, "Don't come any closer, I'll shoot," I announce not really wanting to have to shoot them. I might as well not have spoken, they just keep pushing, stumbling over one another as they inch closer.

Lining up, setting my sights on one, in particular, a middle-aged man, a civilian, I shoot one shot into his left leg. Nothing. A slight knockback at most but he's still alive. Trying again, I aim for his chest and the same happened again. Lastly shooting the head, that's what does it. He's down.

That one alone took up to much time, I have another 8 headed my way and I only have a limited amount of bullets. The odds were not in my favour, that much was clear. Making a dash for my car, hastily ripping my keys from my pocket. Silence.

"Come on don't fail me now!" I said through gritted teeth. Shoving the keys into the engine once more and twisting. Sounds of my struggle echo throughout the car as I feel the nonexistent sweat beginning to build as my breath becomes hot with frustration. Now as good a point as any to point out that I have 3 broken windows, no thanks to Cora. Not broken as in they don't go down, oh no, they don't go up. I mean how one single girl breaks 3 windows is beyond me. Honestly, it didn't bother me that much to begin with, it gives my car character. Right now though it's a different story.

If my internal panic with my car not starts wasn't enough, then maybe those things reaching their grimy hands in my car are. Before I knew it my car was surrounded by the creatures, some toppling over the bonnet of my car, others pushing their hands through my half-cracked down windows. I feel the lazy touch of the fingers brushing against my shoulders and hair causing my entire body to shiver.

"Please" I beg over the sounds of the deathly groans and screams. Turning the key again with my sweaty hands, my body shaking in fear of what's to come. As though Jumpstarted, my car roars to life. The sound of my own engine has never sounded so delightful and I should honestly appreciate it more.

Not caring for speed limits, I push the pedal to the metal. The shrieking of my tires scraping on the hard concrete leaving evidence of my wheels spinning. Pushing through the moss pit of things before my car wasn't as hard as it sounds, even though they look like dead weight, they are quite easy to redirect.

Speeding my car a distance away for the scene, next to the car they were previously attacking, before I slow to a stop again, looking in my rearview mirror. They're following me. Looking to my left, I see the beaten car. Curdling blood dripping from the passenger seat window with loose pieces of straggling hair stuck to the wing mirror. Leaning over slightly I see a few fingers laying on the ground. Holding back my gag, I look back up into the car, only to be met with a figure. A hard to distinguish figure. Completely devoured and unrecognisable. Those rabid animals shredded these poor souls face to shreds with any features now ruined.

Shaking my head at the sounds of the things coming closer to my car again, I slowing start moving, only to hit the breaks instantly as a thought came to my head. Looking in my rearview mirror again at the car, tears begin to build in my eyes. A mustard Ford Fiesta. That's the car. That's her car. My cheeks slightly soaked, my hands shaking once again as I roughly grab the roots of my hair. Having enough, I swat away the tears that are trailing down my cheeks, nose scrunched up as I try my hardest not to look back again. I didn't.

Driving down that road, the road that usually fills me with overwhelming joy, felt different this time around. It felt darker. The road that I knew ultimately leads me to home is beginning to feel like a drag. It's a road that I never want to drive down again because the only thought that I can think of now is: it's my fault.

#twd #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead imagines #twd imagines #daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagines #daryl dixon x reader #rick grimes #rick grimes imagines #rick grimes x reader #glenn rhee #glenn rhee imagnes #glenn rhee x reader #carol patelier #Maggie greene #Maggie greene imagines #michonne #negan imagines #negan x reader #the walking dead au #twd au #the walking dead fanfiction

[petertingle-yipyip]

Selfish - Peter Parker

Part Three: Good in Goodbye

// Selfish // Stained Glass //

//Tags @josiemara @dylanstilinskiposts @just-a-sad-chicken-nugget-xxx @throughparisallthroughrome​ @tomhollandssecurityguard​  @marvel4geeks​ @yourbiggestspiderfan​ //

Word Count: 5974

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Summary: Peter and Y/N have revealed their secrets and tried to talk things out. But in an effort to be honest, it may have gotten worse. Is there hope for this couple or should they find the good in goodbye?

“You got blood on your hands.” Your dad stands over you, Captain America on one side and Black Widow on the other. “How do you plead?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” You say weakly. “I made a mistake. Just-”

“You seem to do a lot of that.” Captain America’s voice bounces through the room.

“Please, I love him. Let me make it right!”

“Doesn’t look like you loved him enough, did you?” Black Widow’s voice offers you a challenge.

-

“Y/N?” MJ said from your side, shaking you lightly.

You jumped slightly, sitting up quickly from leaning against the table. You looked around, seeing no one left in your class room but you, MJ, and your teacher. You sighed slightly, wiping your face and trying to clear your head of your latest dream. You gathered your school supplies and noted that you hadn’t written anything on your papers.

“I slept the whole class period, didn’t I?” You asked regretfully as you and MJ left the room, waving a goodbye to your teacher.

“Mhmm.” She nodded simply. “I’ll send you my notes later.”

“Thanks.” You muttered, pulling out your phone to see nothing from Peter.

“Wanna tell me what happened last night?” MJ offered as you two headed to the main door. “You look terrible.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” You shrugged.

“Does that have any correlation to Peter not being here today?”

“Probably, I don’t know.” You mumbled, turning away from your normal walk home.

“Where are you going? Your apartment is this way.”

“I’m going to my dad’s.” You replied, stopping to turn and face your friend. “I can’t be home, not right now. I could barely stomach to be in my own room last night. I stayed on my fire escape all night because I just couldn’t take it. It’s just all bitter, no sweet.”

“So you two broke up then?”

“We’re not on speaking terms.”

“You broke up.”

“No, I don’t think so… Just not talking right now.”

“Well, what happened?”

“I made a mistake.” You answered carefully. “And I’m having a problem trying to make things right. Last night, I probably made things worse.”

“What are you going to do about Liz’s party this weekend?”

“Not go?” You shrugged with a nervous laugh. “I don’t know, MJ. Right now, I’m just trying to get through the day. And I had a fight with my mom last night about getting in trouble over the Flash thing so I’m really not in the mood for anything today. Sorry.”

“I get it.” She nodded slightly. “Just- Don’t beat yourself up too much, alright? Peter’s just an idiot. You two will figure it out.”

“Thanks, MJ… I’ll text you later.”

You rode in silence through the city to your dad’s tower. You showed the badge Tony had sent to your apartment, security ushering you in easily. You conversated with the head of security after he introduced himself. He said his name was Happy, and that he had known your dad for a long time. Happy took you to the floor where your dad was, saying that Tony’s lab and most of the Avengers were found on that floor.

You wandered around the massive space, soon finding a training room. There was a dumbbell rack against the far wall, a wall lined with full length mirrors. A weight bench was near it, next to a squat rack. There was a row of punching bags, an area on the floor set aside for partnered work. Various pads were piled by the ring, along with pairs of boxing gloves.

“I didn’t know you were coming.” A familiar voice said from behind you as you were kneeling to pick a pair of gloves.

“My mom is working late and I didn’t want to be home. She’s gonna pick me up when she gets off.” You answered, not wanting to turn and face him. You knew if you did, some sort of emotion would take over. But you were scared of which emotion it would be. Desperation? Anger? Fear? Pain? Loneliness?

“Are we okay?” He asked carefully, dropping his bag by the door and coming into the room. You watched his movements through the wall of mirrors, refusing to turn and face him.

That was always the thing with Peter. You two didn’t fight often. The Spiderman feud was probably the only real fight you two had ever had. But you had petty arguments every now and then. And once those arguments got to the silent treatment, one look from him and his big soft puppy dog brown eyes and you were melting back into him.

“There’s so much I want to say… So much I still haven’t said yet.” You replied slowly, picking your words intently. You knew you had to be careful with what you said. You were afraid that you would blow up and lose Peter. “But I’m lost, Peter. Things are different between us, and you can’t tell me it isn’t.”

“Not everything is different.” He offered a small, sincere smile. “I still love you.”

“The worst part about this is that it isn’t affecting you the same way it’s affecting me.” You laughed in disbelief. The words you had been holding in, hiding from everyone around you were bubbling over. The locked up feelings that you couldn’t verbalize were beginning to change into actions. You could feel the familiar twitch in your muscles, begging to release itself as quick and decisive blows. You turned to face Peter, dropping the gloves in your hands.

You let your feet move themselves, guiding your body closer to Peter. It felt like a magnet, pulling you to him. You knew you should’ve stopped. You should’ve planted yourself like a tree and refused to move. But it felt like it’d be right to be close to him, to trap yourself within the painted lines on the floor with him.

You realized you weren’t trying to just be close to Peter. You were closing in on Spiderman, the way you used to slowly stride closer to him before launching an offensive. You wanted to start a fight.

“Y/N, every night that I’m out, I swing by your apartment.” Peter explained, stepping closer to you. He was giving in to your movements, following your lead to close the distance, fully unaware of your subconscious intentions. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what last night.”

Once he was close enough, you threw a quick punch. Peter dodged it easily, catching your right hand with his left. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion while you squinted your eyes in determination. You urged yourself to forget, to bring yourself back to before you knew the identity of the bug-themed boy in spandex. You urged yourself to let your mind slip fully into Heretic’s mindset, the girl who knew how to release her pent up frustration. The girl who wasn’t dating a superhero.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked in surprise.

With a quiet tilt of your head, you reacted. You spun your wrist out of Peter’s grip, grabbing his arm and pulling him to you. While he was thrown off balance, you dropped to a knee and brought your elbow against the back of his knees. He groaned, falling to his knees. You kicked out to the side, knocking Peter flat on the ground.

Peter tried to process what was happening, but his brain kept telling him that he couldn’t hurt you. But the way you were moving, the intent you were moving with, it wasn’t a fight between Y/N and Peter. He recognized your movement pattern as a fight between Spiderman and Heretic. He took a second to compose himself, to allow himself to believe it was Heretic he was against.

He quickly jumped to his feet, trying to decide if he should fight back. Before he could make up his mind, you were coming at him with a calculated series of blows. Peter quickly blocked most of your hits. You ducked under his arm, connecting your elbow to the ghost of the bruise from where you had stabbed him previously.

He wobbled on his feet as he held his side, allowing you to charge again. Your mind was fuzzy, your muscles acting on their own. Soon, Peter was redirecting all of your attacks. He wasn’t blocking or fighting back, just sidestepping and avoiding. You dropped to sweep his legs, but he easily jumped over your foot. He landed in a low crouch, reaching over to push you. You quickly leaned into your palms, kicking your feet out.

Your feet connected with Peter’s chest, sending him rolling across the mat. You used the opportunity to jump to your feet. Peter turned to face you before shooting a web at your ankle and yanking your foot out from under you. You fell to your back, Peter quickly moving to pin your body down. He had his legs on either side of your hips and folded your arms against your chest.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Peter panted, slightly winded. 

You stared at him for a moment, noting the way the sweat made his curls stick to his forehead. His cheeks were slightly tinted pink and his chest noticeably rose and fell with his heavy breaths, both effects quickly fading back to a normal level. You chuckled lightly, pushing Peter off of you. He moved easily, not fighting to keep you pinned. You sat up on your elbows, tilting your head to look at him.

“You should’ve told me sooner.” You said plainly, working through the thick lump in your throat. “Maybe if you had told me before Tony came back into my life, this would’ve been different.”

You knew you had to have this conversation with Peter if you wanted to be able to move on. You wanted things to go back to normal with him, to be able to hang out and laugh and enjoy each other’s company. But now, it just felt like there was an elephant in the room. A big, fat elephant in the room wearing red and blue spandex. And even though you had tried this conversation last night, it didn’t work out well for you.

“I knew how you felt about superheroes.” He replied, his head hanging low. He was upset that he didn’t tell you sooner, but he also knew that you would react in a similar way. He didn’t know that you’d physically fight him over it, but he knew you’d lash out. “And the way you always talked about Mr. Stark and the Avengers… I didn’t want you to hate me too.”

“Peter, you know that I love you.” You sighed, crawling to sit across from him. You considered reaching out for his hand, but you decided against it. You had sent enough mixed messages when you put up the facade for school in the previous days. “Whether you’re a superhero or not, I still love you.”

“Then why did you just attack me?” He asked in shock, gesturing to the mat you two had just been fighting on.

“I don’t know!” You replied in the same tone. “I just- I’m trying to cope with everything still. I’m trying to pretend like everything is okay but it’s not. And this is the only way that I’ve figured out how to deal with things.”

“I didn’t want this to come between us.”

“That’s why I never told you about Heretic…” You explained slowly. You thought that maybe - just maybe - if you had confessed everything, put it all on the line, things could stabilize between you two. “I didn’t want the idea of me being the bad guy to drive you away. I didn’t think you’d understand what I was doing and why I was doing it.”

“I still don’t understand. You’re not the bad guy, Y/N, but...” He shook his head in silent frustration. “These tantrums been old. I can’t keep doing this.”

“You’re killing my vibe in ways words cannot describe. But I’ll try.” You paused, trying to plan your words before you said them. Last night, you let your words flow freely and you caused a rift between you and Peter. So now, you sat before him, silently pleading for him to forgive you. Maybe then you could forgive yourself. “I would take a bullet for you just to prove my love.”

“Only to find out you were the one holding the gun.” Peter scoffed. “Y/N, do you honestly think this hasn’t been bothering me?”

“How would I know?” You challenged simply. “You didn’t come to school today, so was I supposed to just know?”

“It's eight Mondays in a row, nine days of the week.” He replied, punctuating his words with a purposeful point to the ground. “Ever since you started ignoring me the first time, I haven’t been able to actually sleep, o-or focus. Everything reminds me of you, but you don’t even care.”

“I do care, Peter.”

“No, you don’t.” He chuckled in annoyance. Peter wanted to let the whole thing go, to forget that you were at odds and go back to the blissful ignorance of your relationship- back to a time when neither of you knew the other’s secrets. But he knew that wasn’t possible. Your relationship was changed forever, and now you two were faced with a challenge. Adapt or lose everything you two built. “If you actually cared, you’d come with me tonight. As Spiderman.”

You sat in front of your boyfriend, dumbstruck with his request. It seemed so simple. Spend time with Peter as Spiderman, learn to see them as the same entity instead of separate beings. How could you not see it before?

“And if I can’t do it?” You asked tightly, knowing that if you could barely stand the thought of Peter in the suit, it’d be even harder to spend the night with Peter in the suit.

“I saw something earlier, about how there’s good in the bad and bad in the good.” Peter explained, seemingly off topic.

“Yin and Yang.”

“They said there’s an ‘over’ in lover, ‘ex’ in next. But I think what hit hardest was the g-o-o-d in goodbye.”

“We’d break up, then…” You nodded slowly, realizing you were backed into a corner. “Looks like I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“I need you to need both, baby.” He said softly, consoling almost. He leaned over and took your hand, tugging it slightly in an effort to ask you to come closer. You gave in almost instantly. You crawled to sit beside him, to lean your head on his shoulder. His arm came around you as he held you close, as close as he could keep you. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t, Peter.” You confirmed. The moment felt so normal, it made your head swim. “You won’t lose me.”

“Y/N?” You heard your dad calling from down the hall. “Where you at, kid? There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“In here.” You replied, lifting your head from Peter’s shoulder to turn and look towards the door. You watched as your dad entered with Captain America and Black Widow.

Doesn’t look like you loved him enough, did you?

You jumped up in a panic, remembering your dream from your last class. A fresh, new wave of pain and regret coursed through your body. Regret flowed in your veins instead of blood, the desire to flee causing tension in your muscles. Your eyes darted around the room as you looked for another exit, any way to escape the suffocating pressure you felt closing in. Part of you knew that they weren’t going to lecture you - they wouldn’t turn against you - because they didn’t know you. They didn’t know anything about the situation, let alone know anything about you. But the irrational idea that your dream was some sort of prediction was hard to rid yourself of.

“Y/N, this is Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff.” Your dad introduced them.

“Uh, hi.” You said awkwardly.

“Not much for words, are you?” Natasha teased lightly.

“Yeah, guess not.” You chuckled nervously.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about it.” Steve offered kindly. “You’re Tony’s kid, which means your welcome here with open arms.”

“That’s really good to hear, Captain.” You nodded, the tight knot wound in your stomach gently unravelling. “And considering I’m on the outs with my mom, that’s really comforting.”

“What’s this about you and your mom?” Tony cut in, sliding in front of Steve and Natasha.

“Huh?” You played dumb.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N.”

“She got mad that I wasn’t home when she got home.” You waved your hand to dismiss his concern. You saw Natasha motion for Steve to follow her, not thinking they needed to be in the room for that conversation. She pointed at Peter for him to follow, but then shot a look of annoyance before the two left. You assumed Peter refused to leave. “She wasn’t happy that I got into a fight and then ran off like nothing happened.”

“Yeah, but nothing happened.”

“I know that. But she doesn’t. I don’t even care anyways.”

“Y/N-” Peter tried.

“No, I don’t.” You laughed. “She wants to blame me for getting in trouble when A) I didn’t start the fight. B) I didn’t actually hurt Flash, just his ego. And C) Morita was sending me home anyways. What does it matter where I actually went?”

“I get where you’re coming from.” Tony offered, continuing to speak even though you were gathering your stuff to leave the room. “Hey, don’t walk away when I’m talking to you, alright? You’re pissed at your mom? Fine. But you’re not gonna take it out on me.”

“It’s more than just Mom.” You shook your head. “Ask him.” You nodded towards Peter before leaving the room.

You were about halfway out the doorway when you felt a thread-like material wrap wound your wrist. You let your backpack fall from your shoulder on the opposite side while you turned on your heel. You wrapped some of the excess webbing around your hand as you faced Peter, his arm extended and his hand gripping his end of the webs. You glared at him in challenge, trying to gauge if he actually wanted to do it. When his gaze didn’t waver, you acted quickly.

You yanked Peter forward. You aided yourself by moving in close, spinning towards Peter with your left arm locked out, in essence clotheslining the boy. Peter fell to the floor on his back while you stood triumphantly, gently placing your foot on Peter’s chest.

“Seriously?” You mocked. “What were you trying to accomplish?”

“Quit it.” Your dad said, cutting Peter’s web. “Leave him alone, Y/N. He’s trying to help.”

“Yeah, everyone’s trynna do what’s best for me, right?” You scoffed, picking up your backpack on your way out.

You took the long walk home by yourself. You declined Happy’s offer to drive you home. You declined Steve’s offer to pay for a cab. You knew the walk would be about half an hour, maybe more. But it would give you time to think.

You knew Peter would show up on your fire escape tonight, covered head to toe in his suit. You knew that you would have to dig out your gear and if you had the time, repair the neurotransmitters for your knives. A small part deep in the back of your brain was excited, itching to wear the familiar spandex as you silently wandered your neighborhood. But a bigger part, a louder and more prominent part was smarter. It was telling you to call off the meet-up, to find an excuse to not go out.

Maybe you had to catch up on the notes you missed. Maybe your mom was cracking down on you since you were M.I.A. two days in a row. Maybe you were feeling sick. No, Peter wouldn’t believe any of it.

For what felt like the first time in your life, you felt truly afraid. You were scared that you wouldn’t be able to see Peter and Spiderman as the same person. It wasn’t an option to keep them segregated, to have such a deep love for Peter but turn around and despise Spiderman. You kept telling yourself that they were one and the same.

You had seen it with your own eyes. You saw Peter come to your room the night before, red and blue suit fitting snugly against his body. You watched him peel away the mask and let loose a bed of messy brown curls and wide, loving eyes. You saw Peter, in a simple pair of jeans and a nerdy t-shirt, move with the same specific agility and precision that Spiderman moved with. You saw the same moves, the same defensive strategies at play less than an hour ago.

You had ample evidence and memories etched into your brain to support the notion - to prove the notion - that Peter Parker, the boy you loved with your whole existence, the boy who you had given your heart to without hesitation, was the beloved local hero. Peter was Iron Man’s newest prodigy. He was Queens’ protector. Peter was Spiderman…

But could you be Heretic again? It seemed like the fiasco of alter egos kept unravelling new issues every day. It felt as if a mountain of issues was piling up in front of you, and if you pulled on the one you felt was the heaviest to deal with, the entire collection would topple over on top of you and suffocate you.

As you finally approached your apartment door, the sun was slipping behind the nearby buildings. Night was coming quickly, swallowing the time you had left as Y/N. Pushing the time you had to become Heretic upon you. You set your intentions on your bedroom as you entered your home. You quickly reheated your dinner and took it to your room, refusing to utter a word to your mom.

“How was school?” She tried, to which you huffed in response. “Did you go to your dad’s after school or were you at Peter’s?”

The only response was the microwave beeping.

“I know you’re upset about last night, but I don’t think it was right for you to run off with Tony when you were sent home from school… But I do have to admit, I am glad you two are getting along so well.”

“Mhmm.” You acknowledged, a lift to your eyebrows displaying your disbelief in the subject. You carried the hot plate to your room and locked the door behind you.

You knew it wasn’t fair to be so angry with your mother. But with everything going on at that moment, you felt like you wanted to be mad at everyone. You couldn’t even let yourself be - admittedly - starstruck by meeting Captain America because you were upset about what your own mind produced. You hesitated by your door, considering heading back out and apologizing. But the dimming sunlight outside your window and the heat spreading from your dinner to your fingers reminded you of what you were intended to be doing.

You picked at your dinner while you worked to repair the neurotransmitters. You didn’t know what Peter had in mind when he asked you to meet with him, but you knew what the streets of New York could hold, the danger that she kept tucked in alleyways and prowled on dimly lit avenues. You knew you had to be prepared for anything, and since you wouldn’t have your serums to give yourself added protection, you needed to have your knives at the ready.

It was a few hours before you had completed the repairs with the stashed parts in one of your desk drawers. You unlocked your window before changing into your familiar spandex suit. You tugged on your boots, treading silently across your room. You pulled your hair up into a tight ponytail, pulling a couple strands to frame your face. You tossed your mask on your messy bed while you busied yourself at your desk, copying the notes that MJ had sent you.

meech🤔🙄: hey loser. heres the notes you missed. meech🤔🙄: quit screwing around and handle your issues with the other loser. i dont want to see you spiral cause a scrawny nerd

You hadn’t heard Peter crawl through your window, being that you had your music playing on your computer. His light tap on your shoulder caused you to jump and turn aggressively in the chair. Luckily, he was there to catch you so you didn’t tumble to the floor.

“Hey.” He said simply. Even though he had his mask on, you knew he was smiling. You heard it in his voice.

“Wow, guess I fell for you again.” You joked instantly, patting his chest lightly as you hauled yourself to your feet. “So, what’s the plan for tonight, Spiderman?”

“You’re really gonna come with me tonight?” He wanted to confirm. One thing you could always count on was Peter’s double-checking.

“No, these are my new skin-tight spandex pajamas.” You laughed lightly, side-stepping him to collect your knives from your bed, along with your mask. “Peter, I know these past couple days have been terrible. And I know it’s mostly been my fault.”

“Baby, no.” He said softly, reaching for your glove covered hand with his own. You couldn’t physically feel his fingers around yours, but you felt the pressure of a gentle squeeze and the slight texture of his suit against your exposed fingertips. “I’m as much at fault as you are.” Your eyebrows raised in amusement as you paused placing your mask on your face. “I didn’t mean it like that!” Peter immediately backtracked. 

“We’ve been together for a long time, hon. I know what you meant.” You shook your head in amusement before hiding behind your mask. “You can keep going, by the way. I like where that was headed.”

“All I’m saying is that I could’ve done a little more. I don’t want to lose you, Y/N.” Peter admitted, headed towards the window with a gentle grip on your hand still. “You are… everything to me.”

A huge smile broke across your face. You had never thought that hearing words Peter had told you a million times over would give you such butterflies, such a tingling feeling across your body. Hearing it come from Peter, but seeing it come from Spiderman, it helped you bridge the gap between the boy you adored and the persona that you despised.

“So, what’s the plan tonight?” You asked again as you two climbed out of your window to your fire escape. “Usually I just kinda wander around until I run into you.”

“You ever wondered what it’s like to swing?” He offered, the sound of a smirk dancing in his voice.

“You’re kidding.” You smiled nervously.

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?” He asked, climbing to stand on the railing of your fire escape and holding his hand out for you. The entire scene reminded you of the Disney movie, Aladdin.

“Yes?” You replied carefully, reaching for his hand. You climbed to the railing, wrapping your arms around his shoulders tightly. “If I die-”

“You’re not gonna die.” Peter laughed.

“If I die-” You continued pointedly. “-don’t let Flash come to my funeral.”

You closed your eyes tightly, burying your face into the crook of Peter’s neck. You locked your hands together, clinging desperately to Peter. Once you felt your feet leave the railing, a small squeal left your lips. You considered wrapping your legs around Peter’s waist for bonus security, but you abstained, worried it would interfere with Peter’s swinging.

You wanted to take a peek and see where you two were headed, but the wind burn on your face kept your eyes shut. You eventually felt the sharp sting of the cool air stop. The deep woosh in your ears had silenced, but it took a moment for your head to stop spinning.

Peter’s arm around your waist relaxed slightly to a lazy drape. Carefully, your feet felt the solid ground beneath but your arms remained locked around Peter. The swirling feeling in your head subsided, your mind settled slowly to allow your body to find its balance. You carefully opened your eyes, finding you and Peter atop a tall building with a familiar skyline.

“Is this your apartment building?” You asked slowly, taking in the new angle of the familiar view.

“Yeah..” He said gently, as if he was admiring the view as well. “I didn’t really want to do anything tonight… I just wanted to be with you.”

“Y’know, last time I was here with you, I threw you off the roof… I didn’t get to actually take in the view.”

“I forgot about that.” He laughed gently.

“I never said sorry for that, by the way.” You said awkwardly.

What you didn’t see was that Peter was admiring the view, only he wasn’t looking at the skyline. Peter’s eyes were trained on you, feeling as if he was seeing you for the first time. Peter was dumbstruck. How could you become even more beautiful?

Maybe it was the wind blown look of your hair. The pink tint of your cheeks and nose due to the wind burn. Maybe it was the wide, soft look in your eyes. The adoring smile you offered. Maybe it was the way you clung to his body even though you were completely safe. He felt your hands release themselves, one of them slid from across his shoulders to hang lazily against his chest. The ghost of your hand left a tingling warmth across his skin under his suit. Even though there was no skin to skin contact, he had missed your touch more than he had realized.

“I love you.” He said so quietly he barely heard his own voice.

“I love you too, Peter.” You replied, turning under his arm to face him. You took a small step to the side so you could stand in front of him fully. You slid the hand from his chest back up to his shoulder and up his neck. “Can I kiss you?”

“I was hoping you’d ask.” He tilted his head with his words, his signature move when he was a little cocky. He leaned in slightly before pulling back quickly and removing his mask. “Almost forgot.”

You paused for a millisecond, recognizing something incredible. You didn’t shy away from the kiss with his mask on. Yes, it would’ve been strange to kiss his mask and not him. But you didn’t think of it as kissing Spiderman. Your mind registered it as Peter with a mask on.

It was just Peter with a mask on.

You smiled widely from your revelation, leaning into his lips eagerly. Your hands easily slid up his neck, the feeling suit disappearing under your exposed fingertips and fading into his warm, soft skin. You felt the tousled texture of his hair, the slightly damp mess of curls that your digits were so used to being tangled in.

When you pulled away for a breath, you noted the dopey smile on your boyfriend’s face. You tilted your head back to let out an honest laugh, the realest laugh you had released since you had learned your boyfriend’s secret.

“This is amazing, Pete.” You said gently, your fingers dancing small circles on the nape of his neck. “I can’t believe you get to do this every night. I can see why you never answer me after eleven.” You joked.

“You’re in a good mood tonight.” He offered a small, content smile as he spoke. “So I guess Spiderman isn’t all that bad, is he?”

“Well, Spiderman did just try to kill me…” You teased, tilting your head side to side as if mulling over the thought, to which he scoffed in response. “But the guy under the mask is actually pretty great.”

“Y’know, if you want, I’m sure Mr. Stark would give you an internship like mine.”

“I don’t know about all that yet.” You shut down the thought almost immediately. “But I don’t think it’ll be as hard for me to see you and Spiderman as the same person anymore.”

“That’s all I wanted.” He sighed in relief.

“I owe you an apology, Peter.” You admitted with a heavy sigh. “It’s the least you deserve.”

“No, you-” He tried.

“Let me say this. Please.” You tried, offering Peter a pleading look. He nodded slightly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “I reacted out of fear, out of anger and- and pain. And I know that’s not an excuse, but I didn’t know how to cope with everything. The entirety of my world had flipped in the matter of minutes. Less than one hour changed my family dynamic and my dynamic with you. You are a huge part of my life, and if I lost you - especially over something so temporary - over feelings so blown out of proportions. I don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself. I couldn’t even sleep last night when you left. And then you weren’t at school and I- I thought it was my fault. I thought I chased you away and I had lost you.”

You felt a gentle thumb drag across your cheek and you realized you had begun to cry. Silent, warm tears had started to fall slowly down your face, and the sight was almost enough to move Peter to tears of his own. He offered you a sad, understanding smile. You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing to let your mind root yourself in that moment.

He knew it was hard for you to admit everything you were saying. He knew you were never the most open of books, not even with him. You told him everything - almost everything. And now, here you were, with the New York skyline setting the scene behind you. The constant sounds of the city’s streets filling the silence between your words, the heavy movements of your chest as you tried to maintain your semblance of calm. Peter felt a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach, a tingling feeling. Almost like butterflies. 

It felt like the first date all over again. 

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I absolutely adore you. And I want you in my life, no matter what you’re wearing.” You laughed nervously. “I love you, Peter Parker. And I need you.”

“You need me?” He teased lightly, wiggling his eyebrows in suggestion.

“I need you, Peter.” You nodded with a smile. “And I need you as Spiderman, too.”

Peter threw his head back with a wide grin. He let out a dramatically long sigh of relief before he faced you again. “I’m so glad you said that.”

“How long are we going to be out tonight?” You asked. The adrenaline of swinging with Peter was draining from your system and you could feel your body inching towards a crash. The lack of sleep from the night before probably wasn’t helping your case.

“You wanna come in?” He offered, leading you to the side of the building that would eventually lead to Peter’s window. “I know you’re tired.”

You nodded tiredly, mumbling how you’d have to explain it to your mom in the morning. Peter hopped over the ledge so he could offer you his hand and help you climb the fire escapes. He stayed in front of you, walking down sideways so he could keep any eye on you. His hand was locked around yours as you two treaded the metal steps that would eventually take you to his bedroom.

#peter parker #peter parker fanfic #peter fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker x reader #peter x you #peter x yn #peter x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x yn #peter parker x y/n #spiderman fic #spiderman #marvel fic

[anotheronechicagobog]

Yeah, I Would Part 2/Final Peter Mills x reader

written by @anotheronechicagobog​

warnings: swearing, mention of corruption, slightly Erin bashing, canon compliant bombing/accident

You arrived at the diner, taking a deep breath. You spotted Peter working the grill and talking to a man who was sitting at the counter, the detective Peter had told you about presumably. “What’s up buttercup?”

“Not much hummingbird. Gumbo and a milkshake?”

“Please.”

“What kind?”

“Surprise me, I trust you.”

“Ha, good to know. Before I get started on that, this is Antonio Dawson, the detective. He’s good, you can trust him, okay? I’ll be back with your food in a sec okay?” He kissed your hair, gave you an encouraging dimpled smile, and then left you with Dawson. “Hi, it’s good to meet you. So you’re the guy investigating my dad?”

“Yes, Ms. Voight and I-”

“It’s Y/L/N, actually. I took my mom’s name when I turned eighteen.”

“Alright, Ms. Y/L/N, I don’t know exactly what Mills told you, but I have been investigating your dad and I need to talk to you about that, and you can’t tell him.”

“My dad is corrupt. Dirty. There’s not enough time in the day to talk about it. But still, I was raised by a cop and a social studies teacher, so one thing I learned very early on in life is that evidence is key. So, here,” you handed him a Hello Kitty flashdrive that you’d kept in your bra, he took it very gingerly, clearly uncomfortable with where it was placed, “I started collecting evidence on my dad once I figured out what he was doing. And every piece of it is on that drive. It’s not the original, and I have multiple other spares, but there’s years of photo and video evidence as well as scanned copies of documents and written statements from me on there. If you need stuff in hard copy I can give it to you before the trial, if it even gets there, because I want to make sure this sticks.”

“Okay, thank you for your time. I’ll leave you with your food. Here’s my card, I’ll be in contact.”

“Of course, have a good night.”

“Here you go, let’s move to this booth over here.” Peter unloaded a tray of Gumbo and milkshakes onto the table on the booth behind you. “You ready to dig in?”

“Oh absolutely.” He held off on asking until you’d gotten a few bites of food and slurps of milkshake in because he knew you got drained just thinking about your family. “How’d it go?”

“Good. At least I think it went well.”

“And how’s the food.”

“Incredible, but it always is.”

“Only the best for you hummingbird.”

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

A few days later you walked behind Mills over to the rest of 51. You were a bit skeptical, you didn’t think that a picnic was cause for wearing celebratory blues, but hey, you weren’t a firefighter. You were, however, proven right when you walked over to a picnic table with about six guys laughing their asses off. “I can’t believe you actually did it candidate!” 

“You look ridiculous!”

“Really? Cause I don’t think so.” The men you’d had yet to be introduced to watched as you pulled your boyfriend down into a full-on liplock. You bit your lip as Peter coughed, a little dazed, and you marvelled that you had that effect on him. “Uh, well, hi. I uh. My name is Brian Zvonecek but everyone calls me Otis. And who are you, exactly?”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N, Peter’s girlfriend.”

“Peter did not tell you about us, we would remember if he had- uh, Joe Cruz by the way. No nickname, just Joe.”

“Capp”

“Tony.”

“Kelly.”

“Matt.”

“Well, hi, everyone. It’s nice to meet all of you. Sorry that didn’t happen sooner, but I thought it might be best if Peter found his footing with you guys first and then I had to work out of the country for a bit.”

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you. You should introduce her to the chief Mills.”

And so he did. Along with Mouch and Hermann, the chief teased him for the blues before congratulating him on snagging a great girl. Cindy was lovely, just as sweet as her brownies. The day was going really well, even with the tension Gabby was creating with just about everyone. She was basically drooling over Matt and literally everyone was noticing, and for some reason, she was acting particularly cold towards you. But all in all, the day was a success, especially since it ended with the arrest of your dad, brother, and sister.

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

Erin was glaring at you so hard that you were thankful Antonio had gotten a freelance security detail hired for you. As it turned out, since a lot of the evidence you had was about your dad covering up the shit your siblings did, that they were in violation of the law as well. Part of you felt bad for Erin, she had worked really hard to get where she was. Yes, she made some mistakes when she was younger, but most of that was due to her mother’s neglect or influence, which you made sure to tell the court, but she still looked like she was planning your murder. “Be grateful detective Lindsay, you’d be going to prison and losing your badge if it wasn’t for Ms. Y/L/N.” She hmphed at the judge and you shrunk into your seat. Peter rubbed your arms, everything about him calming you.

“I hereby sentence Justin Voight to five years in prison with the chance of parole on charges of theft, DUI, neglectful driving, and conspiracy to commit corruption.”

“I hereby sentence Hank Voight to forty years in prison with no chance of parole on charges of corruption, money laundering, stalking, property damage, witness intimidation, and drug conspiracy.”

You left the courtroom feeling much lighter. You obviously didn’t feel good about sending your only remaining biological family to prison, but what other option did you have? They weren’t going to stop or pay reparations to the people they’d wronged. Just threaten and scare everyone who got in their way. And while you knew that Erin agreed with you on some level, you knew that she believed they shouldn’t go to prison. She would cover for them too, she had actually. And it was because of that that she was demoted to officer and barred from taking the detectives exam for five years. She stormed up to you, resembling a raging bull, after both trials had finished. “How could you, they are your family-”

“They have cost people their livelihoods, Justin actually paralyzed someone! I couldn’t stand by and do nothing, if they weren’t going to stop they had to be stopped. You have to realize that.”

“I just can’t believe-”

“Erin, you’re not joining them, and the only reason you’re not getting arrested for any of the shit you’ve done is because I spoke up and said it wasn’t your fault. All of it would have come out eventually, you know that. Now you don’t have to worry about when that happens. Don’t you get that?”

“You just betrayed your family-”

“Nope, you don’t get it. Goodbye Erin, I’ll talk to you when you pull your head out of my dad’s ass and apologize to me.”

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ONE YEAR LATER

You woke up but it was difficult to see and breathe. You could feel dust entering your mouth and throat whenever you tried to get some air, there were some beams of light coming in but you could still see very little, only the shapes of concrete and metal.  You didn’t feel good. Nauseous, light-headed, pounding in your head, ringing i your ears, and your thoughts were moving so muddled and slowly.

You remembered Kim, the CFD logo, and something about the nurses’ station? None of it made any sense to you, and thinking only hurt your head more. You were so heavy, and so tired, so you just let your eyes close.

The sunbeams were gone when you woke up, you heard sounds instead. Machines and ‘whooping’ mostly. But there were some people, you could not for the life of you hear what they were saying. And then you realized, ‘for the life of you’, Kim, CFD booth, charity race sign-up at the nurses’ station, three steps away, boom, nothing, rubble, rebar, dust, minimal light, minal air. The hospital exploded and you were underneath who knows how much of said hospital in pieces! Panic built up quickly, and suddenly you noticed metallic smelling liquid, aches, pains all over your body, something on top of your right leg. You didn’t think, you just acted. You screamed. Loud. In terror. In pain.

Peter, pizza, apartment, cat, Netflix, Cruz, Otis, pancakes, Molly’s, Hermann, Dawsons, coffee, doughnuts, Platt, Al, Justin, Erin, dad. Images, memories, flooded your mind, panic still securing you in its chokehold. You found an engagement ring in Peter’s nightstand last week. You were going to die. You were going to die. You were going to die. You were going to die. You hoadn’t been aware that you’d spent the entire time screaming as much as your lungs could bear until you vaguely recognized someone yelling at you. “Hey! Hello! Are you okay?”

“No! Help me- please!”

Everything was a blur, whether from your tears or your memory you weren’t sure. But in what felt like minutes you were out from and above the rubble, the night’s sky and a group of firefighters meeting your eyes. Their voices were muffled as you felt hands over you and you let yourself fall asleep again. 

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

Crying, someone was crying. It wasn’t you but you could hear sobs coming from right next to you. The room was dark, the only light in the room coming from the cracks in the door and the machines attached to you. You were still in a lot of pain. Your head was throbbing, but not as much as earlier, your lower right leg was in a cast, you could feel bandages on various parts of your body, gauze wrapped around your chest, and there was a plastic lining around your nose in mouth and stale air making its way into your lungs. Your body didn’t feel as weighed down as before, but you could still feel the exhaustion throughout your body. “Peter?”

“Y/N? Oh, thank God. Dr. Rhodes? She’s awake!”

After a flurry of nurses and doctors and tests, Peter was let back in. Dr. Rhodes followed, giving a tentative smile. “Well, Y/N, you are lucky. After being unconscious for five days you have a severe concussion, four broken ribs that we might have to perform surgery on to make sure they don’t pierce your lungs or heart, a broken ankle with three torn ligaments, numerous lacerations, and your oxygen levels were low when you came in. You were initially on a breathing tube but your levels improved so we took it out and put on the mask instead. Is there anything you want me to go into further detail about?”

“My ribs; how close am I to needing surgery?”

“Very, we’ve done our best to secure and monitor them but we really think that surgery would be best, it’s just that your next of kin are arguing about the best course of action.”

“What? But Peter is my next of kin, my only next of kin. Who has been coming to you thinking they have any power here?”

“Uh, it’s your dad, Y/N. They went to the hospital board and argued that they should be considered next of kin. The board agreed. I tried to fight it, but you know how many strings your dad can pull.”

“What? Are you kidding me? Well, I’m awake now, and I can make medical decisions for myself now, right?”

“Yes, I have been told by the hospital’s lead attorney that once you completely woke up you could make all the decisions necessary. We’ve actually been hoping for that because your family has been causing a lot of trouble over this.”

“Do you recommend surgery?”

“Yes. Based on our observations surgery is inevitable. And the fact that your family opposed Peter and your doctors has actually added a significant amount of risks for you.”

“Alright, do the surgery.”

“A nurse will be in to prep you shortly.” 

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

You looked at Peter’s tear-streaked face. “I thought you were dead.”

“I thought that I was going to die, I hadn’t even been aware of where I was or what had happened for most of the time I was down there. I was so scared that I would never make it back to you.”

“When I found out that you were in that building before the bomb went off, I just lost my mind. I was digging through rubble screaming your name, Casey and Severide had to pull me away and restrain me from searching for you. When you weren’t found after eight hours, and all that crews were finding dead bodies, I... The look that Boden and the lieutenants had with each other... It was without a doubt the worst day of my life. I love you, so much.” He was stroking your face, looking at you as if you were a gift from the sun. “I found the ring, almost two weeks ago now.”

He smiled and pulled the black box out of his coat pocket which was draped over the back of his chair. “You mean this one?”

“Yes.”

“I had a much more romantic proposal plan, but I don’t want to wait until it’s too late. I do not want a life without you. I want to spend the rest of my existence with you. Will you please marry me?”

“Yes. I love you so much, Peter. So, so much.”

Your moment with Peter was broken by Doris entering the room “... I hate to break up this moment, I really, really, do, seriously you guys are adorable, but I have to prep Y/N for surgery.”

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

The firehouse took turns visiting you and Leslie in the hospital, celebrating the fact that you were both alive and well and that you and Peter got engagement. Eliza, Peter’s kid sister, showed up with balloons and flowers. Peter spent the rest of your time in the hospital holding your hand and looking at you like you put the sun in the sky. And you looked at him like he hung the stars just for you. Everything finally felt like it was falling into place, and everyone, including your guilt-ridden dad, couldn’t be more happy for you two.

#One Chicago #Chicago PD #Chicago Fire #peter mills x reader #peter mills #hank voight #hank voight x daughter!reader #erin lindsay

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

A Little Time We Can Borrow

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Word Count: 11.2k Notes: This is my free space fill for @starkerfestivals summer bingo. I caught the bug for firefighter Tony & got a couple of help little nudges from @goindownshipping to create this little gem. PS Notes: Sorry about the repost - this wasn’t showing up anywhere :[ Warnings: Some NSFW stuff, fire drama, minor character death, slight angst Summary:

Tony decided to be a firefighter to piss his dad off - & fell in love with the career. Now, a fire chief in Sarasota, Tony's life is bound to change when a handsome pastry chef is in the business of looking cute and making black smoke billow from his ovens.

Or: the one where Tony Stark looks great in his uniform and Peter comes up with excuses to get him to his shop, Truffles.

Read on AO3 here

At the beginning, firefighting seemed like the best way to piss his father off. Tony hadn’t ever been able to please the man, so he figured his career field of choice would be the most self-serving if it also got under his father’s skin. Desperate to get out of New York, Tony took the scholarship University of Florida gave him and pursued fire science with zero hesitation. He wanted to be doing things and in the action for the rest of his life.

Tony’s advanced intelligence made getting through the program easy – he took as many hours as he could to finish up in 2.5 years, instead of four. Finishing out the rest of that 3rd year, Tony took the classes necessary to get into nursing school and entered into it the very next fall semester. The training was fast paced and filled with lots of interesting skills that he couldn’t wait to take with him to whatever fire house he ended up in.

After graduating nursing school, Tony took his medical expertise one step further by getting an advanced EMT certification. By the time he applied to get into the academy, Tony was more than prepared to take on anything that came that way.

His exemplary skills followed him into the academy – Tony surprised no one by finishing at the top of his class. Aside from the bragging rights, top spot earned him his choice of assignment. Enjoying Florida so much, Tony decided to head to Sarasota and take the medic/driver position he’d been excited to try and pursue since he got into the academy.

The job was fast paced and though he didn’t do any actual firefighting inside the buildings, Tony was always busy out on calls. He was the first line of medical care if fire was the first to arrive on the scene. Between his men that were always coming out of a job with some sort of injury and the people that were on the scene, Tony got his wish; action came at him from all angles and from every direction. It fueled his fire – the irony of that not lost on him every time he thought it. Putting his head down and doing everything he could to go against his father ended up being the best decision he could have ever made.

As the years passed, Tony started to move up the ranks. He didn’t try and shift his position in the truck or take on more responsibility in terms of the fire management – instead, he provided leadership in the way he kept everyone calm, collected, and focused on whatever plan they were trying to execute. The knowledge Tony kept in his brain came in handy all of the time – knowing shit made it so much easier to think on the fly.

10 years on the job came and went with the big promotion to fire chief. At 36, he was very young to find himself in a position like that. Yet, the guys in station 501 were behind Tony 100% - most of them grew up in the firehouse with him, and if they didn’t, they quickly learned that he was the guy to go to when in trouble or out of ideas. Tony didn’t have to worry about having children ever, the guys in the firehouse were the only kids he’d ever need.

In all of his time working for the ladder, Tony hadn’t been dumbstruck by any of the people they came in contact with. One of the demands of the job included keeping a level head and being subjective – which meant mooning over gorgeous men with flour on their cheeks during a call was not optimal.

It all started earlier that day when Tony first stepped foot in the station. He’d been on his 3 day turn around and was eager to get into his office and catch up on all the comings and goings during his time away. He barely managed to get his jacket off before the horn was blaring – the early morning calls always ones that made his skin prickle a bit; most of the world had no business being up before 9AM. The worst things always happened in the mornings.

The heart pumping process of getting into his garb and pulling the truck out of the station never got old – flicking on the sirens, Tony got into the zone and got them to Truffle as quickly as they could. In the back of his mind, Tony recalled looking at the new bakery on the corner the day before – his phone ringing and pulling his attention away was the only reason why he didn’t walk across the street and check it out. Heading in that direction, Tony felt a bit like karma was coming out to play.

Getting there, Tony noticed that the building wasn’t visibly on fire – that simple fact one that always made the call seem a little less terror inducing. Despite having been on the job for more than 10 years, Tony still got scared shitless every single time he got in the truck to answer a call. It was half the fun – the activation of his fight or flight reflexes. Putting the truck in park against the side of the building, Tony climbed out of the cab and signaled for the rest of the guys to climb down and start prepping the truck for the unfortunate need of the hose.

A very disgruntled looking employee opened the door for him – her hair was everywhere around her face, a wild look in her eye. “Thank god you’re here,” she said in the form of a greeting. Her steps were quick as she led him into the kitchen – the smell of something burning immediately hitting his nose.

“What’s the problem?” Tony questioned, his eyes roaming around the kitchen in an attempt to find the source of the smell and billowing black smoke. Instead, he laid eyes on someone that immediately took his breath away.

The man had dark curly hair that was streaked through with auburn highlights. There was the smallest stud in his nose and the visible parts of his arms were completely covered in tattoos – the chef whites really highlighting the color of them. Tony couldn’t make out what they were, but they were bright and seemed to be pretty consistent in terms of a color scheme all the way up.

The handsome stranger’s eyes met his, a redness settling in the circle of his cheeks that wasn’t there before. “This was my first time attempting to use the ovens. I turned them on, and they immediately started to smoke. It doesn’t look like anything is actually on fire – the smoke just keeps billowing every time I open up the oven door.”

Tony took his helmet off and put it on the counter, the immediate threat of a roaring fire no longer his first worry. Grabbing the walkie on his shoulder, Tony gave the guys the all clear. “No hoses needed, fellas.”

He took the handful of steps over to the over and pulled open the door. The smoke was black and coming quickly from the back of the oven. “Is this new?” Tony asked, his hands shutting the oven before he could breathe in anymore of the chemical smelling smoke.

Turning around, Tony was surprised to find the man staring at him blankly. “I don’t know – I just got access to the space a few days ago. I set up the front of the house before I even thought about getting baked goods in the display cases. We’re not set to open for another couple of days.” His initial thought was relief over the fact that he didn’t miss anything when he got pulled away from his attempt to walk inside. He did his best to push that away – business was the first priority; it was straight to the facts.

“New industrial ovens like this one need a thing called a burn-in. It gets rid of all the chemical residue that sits on the surface of the new material. Sometimes, there’s remnants of the coating of some of the plastic that catches and causes the billowy smoke like what’s happening right now. You need to open a few windows and let the over run through the process,” Tony finished, his eyes finally meeting the man’s again.

A flour covered hand moved through the dark hair Tony hadn’t been able to look away from. The residue shifted from his fingers to individual strands – he had a couple of white streaks in his hair when he pulled his hand away; and Tony did his best not to notice. It wouldn’t do him any good, reaching out and brushing it away like he wanted to.

“Shit – why didn’t I think of that?” Turning to the woman in the kitchen that originally walked Tony back, the man fired off a couple of instructions, the details he gave her specific and exactly correct. Tony ran his tongue over the back of his teeth to distract himself – he was stuck between wanting to contribute to the conversation and a startling feeling of nervousness that refused to do anything other than settle down within him deeper. Whoever this person was – he had Tony’s attention.

Soon, the man was walking Tony to the front of the bakery, a somewhat embarrassed smile on his face. “Sorry to have wasted your time. MJ kept screaming about the smoke – I didn’t know what else to do.”

Resisting a chuckle, Tony put a hand up between them – if this guy only knew the amount of ridiculous calls they got on a daily basis, he wouldn’t be apologizing. “You did the right thing. It would’ve kept smoking at the temperature you had it set. An hour should do the trick,” Tony mumbled. Suddenly, the thought to give him a business card settled in his mind. He kept a small stack in his jacket next to his ID and badge – he knew they’d come in handy eventually.

“Here – this has the line to my office on it. If you ever have any more scares, don’t hesitate to give me a call. I can bring the SUV instead of the whole crew.” Tony held the card between them and almost felt disappointed when their fingers didn’t brush in the hand off. Though, he might not have gotten out the door if they did.

He watched the younger man look down at the card, a soft smile forming on his lips. “Thanks, Fire Chief Tony Stark.” The card went into his pocket and then a hand floated between them. “I’m Peter Parker,” he looked up as he spoke, the honey-hazel of his eyes hard to look away from.

Tony didn’t hesitate to take Peter’s hand, his gloves tucked into the middle of his helmet at that point. The long sleeve of his jacket covered their hands for a moment, but Tony didn’t miss the way the world sort of shifted when they touched. Pulling away before he could make an ass of himself, Tony turned back towards the door – he shot Peter a quick smirk over his shoulder.

“Don’t burn anything down, Peter Parker,” Tony added before he opened the door and stepped through it quickly. He was met by Bucky, his second in command, before he could get into the truck.

“That took an awful long time for just a little bit of smoke, boss,” Bucky said, his arm digging into Tony’s side. He let Tony up, but not before he ribbed him about the smile on his face, too. “Chief – looks like the cute baker boy got under your skin.” A hand clapped against Tony’s shoulder as he got settled in his seat behind the wheel. “Put the smile away before the guys see.”

Shaking his head, Tony threw Bucky’s arm off of his shoulder and buckled himself in. “Buck – shut the fuck up,” Tony finally replied, his eyes catching icy blue ones in the big mirror right above him. “You’re not wrong, though.”

Bucky threw his head back in laughter, the heavy helmet on his head crashing to the ground behind him. The rest of the ride was filled with sickening awe sounds and cackling that made his head hurt. It was only fair, though – everyone on the truck got the same treatment when they came walking into the group all goo-goo eyed. That’s what family did.

----

Over the next couple of weeks, Tony got three calls from Peter. The first one was an actual emergency – they didn’t have any fire extinguishers in the entire building. Taking care of it was more like a civic duty than anything else.

The second and third calls – they weren’t nearly as legitimate as the others.

Tony walked in during a busy time of the morning expecting to see something amiss, but Peter was simply standing there with a fresh pastry and a smile on his face. Eye bulging, Tony didn’t know what to think – the professional part of him wanted to reprimand Peter for abusing the privilege. Yet, he found himself smiling widely, instead – his heart throbbed any time he was in Peter’s vicinity; the thought of being able to get mad didn’t really register after letting it stew for a moment.

Peter didn’t have any real time to talk to him, either – he simply gave him the bag and slid an espresso across the counter, the same grin on his face the entire time. It made Tony’s head spin – the shift from scared to overwhelmed was a lot to take in, apparently. Sitting down at a table close to the display case, Tony ate the admittedly delicious pastry and watched Peter go about running through his duties flawlessly.

The apple strudel was so good, Tony grabbed all the rest Peter had in the case before heading out. Maybe the ruthless grief he knew he was going to take from the crew would be soothed a little by the sugary deliciousness. He and Peter shared a smile when Tony pulled the box to him – the same feeling of rightness as before settling between them.

It didn’t dissipate, either – Tony knew the second he heard Peter’s voice on the other side of the line the third time that his excuse of faulty wires in the kitchen was total bull shit. He didn’t hesitate to get up and climb into his SUV, however – at that point, he wasn’t ashamed to admit that Peter got under his skin. The resolve to ask him out got more and more traction the closer he got to Truffle.

The shop wasn’t open anymore, so Tony didn’t attempt to keep up the pretense of it being an official visit. Walking in, Tony was immediately hit by the smell of cinnamon and warm butter – the scents he’d immediately filed under ones associated with Peter. He felt his cheeks heat up a little – he might actually have it pretty bad. No matter how much he wanted to ignore it. Tony forced himself to focus, his eyes roaming around the place. “Mr. Parker?” Tony called out; his voice rich with sarcasm.

“In here,” Tony heard a moment later – the kitchen door swung open without Peter walking through it. Taking that as a sign to enter, Tony was immediately taken off guard when he found himself with an arm full of Peter Parker. He was covered in a flour and cinnamon-butter mixture in the depths of putting together some cinnamon rolls. Tony could smell the sugary goodness from where Peter’s hands rested over his shoulders.

Tony was still in his uniform, the black of his crisp short sleeved button down a direct contrast to the white apron Peter had tied around his hips. He didn’t think about the fact that he probably had a smear of butter and sugar down his back – Peter didn’t give him any time to do anything other than respond to soft lips pressed against his own. Without much thought, Tony wrapped his arms around Peter’s middle and narrowed the space between them down to nothing.

A simple kiss like the one he was currently tied up in shouldn’t have made his heart pound the way it did – Tony could feel his pulse at his temples, the throb of it just as alive as the connection that leaked out into the air. Peter was just an inch or two shorter than him, so the tilt of their heads was absolutely perfect – Tony’s nose brushed against his when he pulled away from the deep kisses to place light, chaste ones against the baker’s lips.

“This is the best call I’ve ever answered,” Tony muttered, his hands moving to frame Peter’s face. Tony’s thumbs ran along the sharpness of his cheekbones, the ability to touch something he’d been craving since the first time he saw him. His already kiss swollen lips pulling into a light smile – Tony didn’t want to look too eager.

Peter took a step back, a matching smile on his face. “I was going to go insane if I didn’t kiss you. The sneak attack has been my best idea yet,” he replied, his cheeks coloring at his admittance. Looking at his hands, Peter blushed a little harder. “I totally forgot I was baking before you got here. I probably got your uniform all dirty.” The look on his face was a cross between amusement and guilt.

Shaking his head, Tony stepped up and gripped Peter’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. He leaned forward and gave him another soft kiss. “The department pays for my dry cleaning. It’s okay, Pete,” Tony said, his lips tingling from the touches as he forced himself to actually put some distance between them.

It took a second to get a hold on his courage, Tony hadn’t done something like this in a long time. Sucking in a deep breath, he met Peter’s eyes – light brown pools were fixed on him, looking at him unblinkingly. “Want to go out on a date with me? Not that I don’t love all of the calls,” Tony started, his face breaking into a smile. “We might have more options when I’m off the clock, though. I’ve been told I’m a lot of fun.”

Tony wiggled his eyebrows and let a hearty laugh fall from his lips when Peter’s face scrunched up at the look. He felt like a kid again, enjoying the minutes of life passing merely because he could – because, when all was said in done, it felt good to. Peter joined him in laughter, and they spent a few minutes trying to gain control over their very adult, very mature selves.

“I would very much like to go on a date with you,” Peter finally answered after a while, his eyes a little watery still from all of the laughing. He pulled in a deep breath and let it out noisily, Tony watched with interest as Peter tried to collect himself. The roll of his shoulders almost had Tony losing it again, but he managed to keep it in. The way Peter made him feel was indescribable.

“Good – then I’ll pick you up here tomorrow night.”

----

Tony felt nervous the entirety of the next day. Usually, he was counting down the hours until he got his 3 days off – he was definitely excited; but nervous all the same. He talked to Bucky about taking Peter to The Hangout on Siesta Key Beach and groaned when his best friend’s eyes opened widely. “You’re taking the baker boy out? Tony Stark does have it bad!” Bucky exclaimed, the words echoing around the room loud enough to get everyone’s attention.

Despite Bucky’s reasoning behind letting the entire firehouse know about his endeavors later that evening, Tony was glad for the distraction. It’d been a slow few days on the call front and they were all getting a little antsy. The ability to make fun of their fire chief made the time pass much quicker.

Before he knew it, Tony was pulling up to Truffle, his heart hammering against his chest for a totally different reason. He looked down at his outfit one more time, suddenly unsure of the black henley and jean combination he picked out. Peter must have seen his car pull up because he was out the door before Tony could second guess himself any longer. Hitting the locks, he grinned when he caught Peter’s attention.

The smell of Peter’s cologne hit him the second the man started to slide into the bench seat of his truck. There were the underlying spices as well as something citrusy – the tang of it made Tony’s mouth water. Leaning over when Peter settled, Tony pressed his lips to a soft cheek. “You look great, Pete,” Tony remarked, his eyes sweeping over his date for the evening.

Pete’s jeans were dark and hugged his legs nicely. The flip-flops on his feet gave way to long toes that were obviously well cared for. Living at the beach brought a certain style to the people that embraced it and Peter was one of them. He wore a black necklace around his neck that had a small pie pendant hanging from it, the crisp blue he wore contrasting nicely. It was a totally different look than the rolled-up chef whites Peter usually donned.

“Thanks! So do you, Tones. I had no idea that firemen could look as good out of the suit as they do in it,” Peter slipped his hand on Tony’s leg as he spoke, his fingers digging in with the last statement.

“Common misconception, I think,” Tony replied, backing out of the parking space. With the gear shift dealt with, Tony scooped up Peter’s hand and held it tightly. Their joint fingers were warm against his thigh. The music wasn’t too loud, so when Tony asked about how the day went for the bakery, conversation flowed easily between them. Peter was open with is words and wasn’t afraid to say what was on his mind.

Tony was beaming by the time they made it to the beach. Shifting in his seat a little, Tony brought their joint hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to one of Peter’s knuckles. “I thought we could get a drink and play some cornhole, or something. When you find yourself getting hungry, let me know – I’m making dinner back at my pad when we’re ready.” For whatever reason, he felt the need to explain himself – he wanted the night to go well and couldn’t stop the nervousness from overflowing.

Luckily, Peter was an amazing person and just went with it. They got out of the car and spent a few minutes tracking down a bar tender to get a couple of drinks. Tony stuck with a beer and giggled insanely when Peter ordered a strawberry daquiri; the happiness in his eyes when the bartender put it down in front of him was absolutely adorable.

Making their way over to one of the cornhole pits, Tony let Peter pick his bean bags and took the other set. “You’re not too far out of culinary school or college, right? You know how this is played?” Tony asked, his eyebrows raising when he saw the acceptance of some unknown challenge settle on Peter’s face. He was learning new things about the younger man by the minute – starting with the fact that Peter Parker was very competitive.

“We used to have backyard tournaments all the time when I was a kid,” Peter remarked, his hand flipping the bean bag up and then catching it on its descent. “Want to make this interesting?” Peter spoke again, an evil sort of glint in his eye.

Not one to pass up a challenge himself, Tony nodded, his smile widening. “Cool, then we’re on equal footing. We’ve got a pit in the common area at the firehouse. I would love to make this interesting.” And he did – no matter what Peter threw his way; Tony was probably going to be absolutely excited to be a part of.

Unless, of course, it was baking – Peter’s face took on an amused expression. “If I win, you come learn how to make those cinnamon rolls you’re always mooning over. If you win, I’ll bake whatever you and the crew want for a whole month.” The deal was very one-sided and should have been enough of a clue for Tony to understand that he would not be wining and that the cuteness of Peter Parker was laced with mischief and a sort of excitement that was entirely too addicting.

Instead of running like he should have, Tony took the deal without any hesitation. “Bucky is going to be so stoked – he loves that baklava that you make.”

In the end, Peter kicked his ass – his aim was practically perfect and the amount of cornholes he scored made Tony embarrassed to have even tried to match him. They played 5 games and Peter won every single one of them. While they played, they talked about little things – what kind of food was their favorite, where they traveled, favorite colors. Tony enjoyed every single painstaking second of getting his ass handed to him; Peter was full of life and made it hard for anything else to break through the surface.

“So, I guess I should tell you now that I have no baking skills to speak of. Putting me anywhere near your kitchen with an intention of not burning something is a huge risk, Pete,” Tony said a little later. They were gathered around the small table in his kitchen passing a big bowl of pasta back and forth. As long as he wasn’t using the oven, Tony could put food together – the minute he needed to gauge time and temperature all bets were off. Aside from pissing his dad off, a near fatal interaction with cupcakes as a kid put firefighting in his head to begin with.

Peter reached across the table and gripped his hand tightly. He’d been doing that periodically throughout the meal – his hands were constantly moving, especially when he talked. Yet, Tony wasn’t upset about it for a single second; the restless nature of Peter’s need to move matched with the way Tony’s brain could never shut off.

Done with the food on his plate and able to give Peter more of his attention, Tony laced their fingers together. He didn’t miss the flash of happiness in Peter’s eye, the look one Tony hoped he’d get to be very familiar with. In his adult life, Tony didn’t make a lot of connections like this – he appreciated every aspect of the interesting relationship they were slowly starting to piece together. If he read things correctly, Peter seemed to be throwing himself full body into their interactions, as well – but only time would tell.

“You can cook – that’s at least a little reassuring. The baking process just gets a little more technical than throwing stuff in a pan and hoping it tastes good. I can teach you – how hard could it possibly be?” Peter gave his fingers a squeeze and pulled away to take a long sip of the glass of wine tucked against his plate.

Tony didn’t have any idea, so he didn’t comment. He simply relaxed into his chair and watched Peter enjoy himself. Bucky told him that when he met Steve – things just clicked. There was something inside that just knew. Looking at Peter in that moment, Tony finally understood what he meant. It was too early for thoughts like that – but he felt something settle in him and take hold; Tony wasn’t going anywhere as long as Peter would have him.

With that thought in mind, Tony let Peter help him with the dishes before grabbing the rest of the wine and leading him out to the front room. He spent most of his time out there, so it was pleasantly decked out with a big wide screen TV, multiple gaming platforms, and a deep L-couch that Tony spent more time sleeping on than he cared to admit. Peter’s eyes widened with excitement as he looked around the room.

“This is nerd haven, Tones. On a night that I haven’t beat your ass already, we’ll have to fire up the Switch and play some Super Smash Bros Melee – I used to win so much money as a kid in tournaments playing as Link,” Peter gushed. When Tony settled against one of the edges, Peter snuck under his arm and leaned against his chest, their sides pressed together from shoulder to hip.

Wrapping his arm more firmly around Peter’s shoulder, Tony placed his wine on the table next to him and picked up the remote. He got a movie on the screen, then turned his attention back to the conversation they were having. “That doesn’t surprise me at all, Pete. I bet you hustled all the other little kids out of their money no problem,” Tony said, his lips pressing against the side of Peter’s head.

At the affectionate contact, Peter leaned a little further into Tony’s side, his arm wrapping snugly around his waist for good measure. “I didn’t hustle anyone. I just used my superior video game skills to win money that was fairly bet. It’s not my fault that people have always underestimated me.”

Tony let his hand drift up and down Peter’s arm in what he hoped was comforting. He knew exactly what it was like to be underestimated – his father didn’t believe in him a day in his life. Keeping that to himself for now, he simply pulled Peter even closer to him and tucked in to enjoy the fact that they were together and watching Pineapple Express.

The soft snore he felt against his chest half an hour later had Tony grinning – Peter shouldn’t be allowed to get any cuter, but he did and probably wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon. Shaking him with the hand still resting on his shoulder, Tony managed to wake him up. “Hey, let me take you home – I know you have to open the shop early in the morning,” he whispered, the smile on his face stretching wider at the sleepy look on Peter’s face.

It took a little bit of prodding, but Peter eventually got up and collected himself enough to get into the truck without much of a fuss. He didn’t fall back asleep and spent most of the drive staring over at Tony. He didn’t want to admit that he spent more time looking at Peter than the road – he drove a firetruck for fucks sake. Pulling into the driveway of a small ranch style house, Tony parked the car.

“Can I walk you up?” Tony asked, his eyes flashing to the porch at the front of the house. Though he knew the night needed to come to an end, Tony didn’t want it to – especially not before he got to feel Peter’s lips pressed against his own again.

“Sure, Romeo,” Peter replied, the softness of his hand on Tony’s softening the blow of the sharp sarcasms. Tony gave it a squeeze and got out of the car, meeting Peter around the front of his truck. Grabbing his hand again, Tony led him the 20 feet between his headlights and the door.

Peter didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Tony when they got to the door – his fingers played with the soft hairs at the back of his neck for good measure. Tony pulled him in tight and leaned forward, pressing their noses together. “You’re kind of a shit, aren’t you?” Tony asked, his lips skimming Peter’s he spoke.

“Yup, and you like it,” Peter replied before filling the rest of the distance and really kissing Tony. His movements were still a bit choppy from the sleepiness, but the heat of his kiss was more than enough to sweep Tony right off of his feet. Peter pulling away felt like crashing to the ground – his lips already missing the press and pull of the other’s.

“Good night, Tony Stark,” Peter whispered, his body already turning towards the door to get it open.

Taking a step off the porch, Tony grinned – “Night, Peter Parker.”

----

The next couple of weeks passed by like a snap – Tony worked a couple of double shifts to cover for Bucky who went out of town with Steve for their wedding anniversary. He spent as many random moments with Peter as he could, but they weren’t able to get together in much of a formal capacity until Bucky got back. If it weren’t for the dazed look on his friend’s face, he probably wouldn’t have made it out of the door so quickly without a little heckling. Tony owed Peter a little time in his kitchen and planned to pay his due that evening.

Walking into the empty bakery always had Tony taking a deep breath in – he’d never get over the warmth and comfort that immediately wrapped him up the second he took a step inside. Peter was standing at the counter waiting for him, a warm look on his face. “Chief,” Peter greeted him, his hand wrapping around Tony’s shoulder without any prompting.

Tony grinned and turned his head to press a kiss to Peter’s ear. “Chef,” Tony replied as they walked through the heavy door to get into the kitchen. Tony got a quick kiss on the lips – then, an apron hit him in the side of the head.

Like most things, Peter seemed to be playfully specific about his time in the kitchen. He helped Tony tie off his apron, then immediately set him up with a rolling pin. He guided him through the best way to get the dough flat and what sort of thickness they were looking for. The way his fingers tangled up with Tony’s made it hard for him to concentrate on the baked goods – despite being flour covered, Peter’s hands were so soft.

They put an embarrassing amount of butter on the rolled-out dough, then sprinkled a cinnamon and sugar concoction on top. Peter moved behind him and showed him the maneuver to roll up the dough – Tony once again almost completely distracted by the touch of Peter’s hands on him. “You’re distracting as hell, I hope you know that, Pete,” Tony said after they had the dough rolled.

Cutting individual rolls, Peter nodded his head, a cocky smile slipping across his cheeks. “That’s kind of the point, Tones,” Peter admitted, his hands moving in a repetitive motion that was very obviously familiar. “One of the best parts of baking is the freedom of it. You have to make it fun. Touching you is fun.” Peter finished what he was doing and put them into a couple of pans. Tony, in an effort to help, put them in the oven.

Before he could move away, Peter was grabbing his upper arms and walking him back until Tony was pressed against the counter. “Those need about half an hour and then we’ll need to check them. I can think of something that will pass the time, though – if you’re interested.” He leaned in before Tony could even respond, but it didn’t matter; he wasn’t going to pass up the chance to be pressed flush against Peter in any way.

It’d been a long time since he spent so much time making out with another human – Tony felt very much like a teenager and appreciated it wholeheartedly. Peter started to thrust his hips against Tony after a while, the hardness that pressed against him was the ultimate tease. Not interested in resisting the urge to reciprocate, Tony broke away from their kiss and let out a deep groan. “You feel amazing,” he babbled, his fingers attempting to make quick work of the button on Peter’s jeans.

Just as he started to make progress, Peter’s alarm for the food in the oven went off. With a sigh, Peter pulled away and stumbled the few steps over to the oven. Tony followed, his body unwilling to be separated from Peter’s, even for the few seconds it would take to open the doors and check on the pastries. He wrapped his arms around Peter’s hips and pulled him close. Tony’s lips started to suck and kiss on the back of his neck.

The heat from the open oven had Tony hiding his face against Peter’s shoulder, his nose pressing into the softness of his shirt there. Peter made quick work of pulling them out and turning the pans – it didn’t seem quick enough, though. Tony moved his hand to the temperature gauge on the side and cranked it up while his other hand turned Peter around when the oven door was finally shut.

Getting lost in Peter’s lips was insanely easy. The idea of getting lost in his pants brought a whole new dimension to what they were doing together. Tony managed to get the button popped and the zipper down without much of a hassle, his fingers grazed over the front of Peter’s boxer briefs without any hesitation.

When the fire alarm started to sound, Tony had Peter’s boxers pulled all the way off his hips and his cock gripped tightly in his fist. Peter tried to do the same for Tony, but only got around to getting his pants undone. Looking up in confusion, Tony let out a sharp gasp when he noticed that actual flames were engulfing the oven. “Holy shit,” Tony stuttered out, his brain still muggy from the haze of arousal. “Get the extinguisher!” Tony yelled, watching as Peter rushed to pull up his pants and run into the office in the kitchen.

Tony got Bucky on the phone as quickly as he could.

“What’s up, Stark? I thought you’d be too caught up in your date by this point of the night,” Bucky said in the way of a greeting. Any other time, Tony would’ve laughed, but he couldn’t – not right then.

“Bucky, grab the keys to my SUV off of my desk and get to Truffle. The oven is on fire.” Tony mumbled the last few words and looked guiltily down at himself, the button on his jeans still undone and everything. “Hurry!” He didn’t give the man a chance to respond – Tony hung up and grabbed the extinguisher from Peter when he came running out with it.

It didn’t take much to get the flaming pans of cinnamon buns under control – they were all ruined, but the oven would still be usable once it got a thorough cleaning; which Tony offered to pay for several times. Calling Bucky wasn’t exactly necessary – it just gave Peter the ability to file a report with his insurance company if push came to shove. Luckily, it didn’t.

Tony, however, was not so lucky – Bucky started to laugh at him from the second he was let into the bakery until he left. He looked at the still undone button on Tony’s pants and the permanent flush on Peter’s cheeks with a knowing expression. The cursory glance that he gave the oven was just to make the pain of his presence even worse than it already was. Tony bit into his lip to stop himself from being a sarcastic asshole. He’d get Bucky back one of these days.

Before he left, Bucky wrapped his arms around them both, a shit eating grin on his face. “We should have learned in this embarrassing collection of events that having sex and cooking cinnamon rolls is not a good mix. Chief, you should know better.” Bucky finished his little lecture with a firm kiss on Tony’s cheek and a soft smack on Peter’s. “Be careful, kids.”

Both Tony and Peter stayed silent until they heard the bell on the front door ring, signaling Bucky’s exit. Tony broke the silence first, his hearty laugh echoing in the otherwise empty kitchen. “That’s probably the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me,” Tony groaned after a few minutes of letting the hilarity overtake his body. The gasping sounds of Peter laughing right along with him made it all a bit more okay.

“I can’t believe he just gave us a safe sex lecture,” Peter added, his face now completely red. “In my own kitchen!” He put a hand on his chest like he was affronted, which made them both laugh even harder.

Unable to stop himself, Tony wrapped Peter up in a tight hug and let the remnants of his chuckles die down – his nose buried in the man’s skin was more than calming. “I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have touched anything,” Tony admitted, regret and the slightest bit of guilt apparent in his voice.

Peter shifted until he could palm Tony’s cheeks. Their eyes met, the soft smile he saw on Peter’s face was too much – there were so many emotions just sitting on the surface. “It’s okay, Tony. Life with you is never going to be boring, and I’m way more than okay with that.” Peter rubbed their noses together, then kissed him – the intention behind it very clear.

----

Tony couldn’t decide whether the break they took to take both their cars to his house was a good idea or a terrible one. It gave him a few seconds to clear his head, because Peter consumed him whenever they were together – it was obvious in the way that he almost burned down the bakery he’d been slowly becoming familiar with. It felt miserable to be away from him, though – his fingers ached to feel Peter’s warm skin underneath them. The slightest taste he got back in the kitchen wasn’t nearly enough.

They pulled up right around the same time and hustled into the house through the garage door. Tony didn’t give Peter a chance to do anything other than react, his hands gripped slim hips and tugged him close. Their lips were pressed together before either of them knew it, Tony’s tongue slipped between the seam of Peter’s lips when he gasped at the sensation of being pressed lip to toe.

It took a little bit of fumbling, but Tony managed to walk them through the maze of his kitchen and front room until the backs of Peter’s knees were hitting the edge of his mattress in the master bedroom. Tony broke the kiss and pushed on Peter’s chest, the other man taking the hint and dropping down, crawling until he was up by the pillows in the middle of the bed.

Pulling the soft t-shirt he’d been wearing all night over his head, Tony kicked off his shoes and thumbed off his socks before crawling onto the bed. He methodically took Peter’s clothes from him, too. First the short sleeve button down; then his pants, boxer briefs, and flip-flops all in one move. Tony took a few seconds to enjoy the vision of Peter naked and panting – he couldn’t recall anything so erotic. “You look great spread out on my sheets, Pete. I’ve imagined you here so many times.”

Peter looked up at him with lust blown eyes, his tongue peeking out to trace his bottom lip. “Is that so? What, exactly, have you imagined?” Peter got Tony’s button undone and zipper pulled down while he spoke. His hand plunging into the front of blue boxer briefs and gave Tony’s cock a quick squeeze.

His skin tightened, Peter’s touch like a hard press to the gas of his body’s responses. Gooseflesh pebbled over his skin, the battle between fire and icy goodness pulling a moan from his throat. Reaching down, Tony reluctantly grabbed Peter’s hand and worked it out of his pants so he could get them down and off his body. He replaced the hand on his cock and went about running his hands all over Peter’s skin.

“I mostly imagine this – the long lines of your limbs and how the skin gives way to the lean muscle I knew you’d be sporting. You’re under me a lot and sometimes, I’ve got you on your belly and pressed so far into the mattress. It just depends on the mood, honestly – you’ve been in a starring role since we met.” While he described what he thought about, he let his hips start to move in the tight grip Peter had around his cock.

Leaning down, Tony let their lips tangle. He slipped his hand between them and slapped Peter’s away. His fingers wrapped around himself and Peter and started to stroke, instead – the slick from his cock helping the slide of his hand up and then back down. When Peter started to pick his hips up and chase Tony’s touch, he squeezed their lengths together one more time before pulling back. Peter looked up at him desperately, his eyes wide. “You okay?” Peter asked breathlessly.

Tony didn’t answer right away, he gave Peter another swift kiss on the lips, then leaned over to the bedside table to grab the lube and a condom – things were about to get hot and heavy and he didn’t want to have to stop. “I’m good, Pete. Better than,” he finally muttered, a sigh leaving his lips when he was pressed against Peter’s bare skin once again. “How do you want me?”

Peter blinked up at him, his colorfully coated arms rubbing up and down Tony’s sides. “This is good. I don’t need much prep, I want you so bad, Tones.” He gripped Tony’s shoulders and pulled him down, the kiss they got lost in warm and intense – the touch a sweet prelude to what was to come.

In an attempt to finally get some of the friction back against his length, Tony pulled away from Peter’s distracting lips and shifted until he was upright and seated between long, lean legs. Snapping the cap off the top of the lube, Tony poured a large amount into the palm of his hand – he wrapped it around Peter’s erection and gave a couple of slow pulls, spreading the slick around. Peter thrust up into his touch, the vein on the side of his length throbbing against Tony’s fingers.

He forced himself to pull away from Peter’s leaking erection to pour more lube into his hand. Coating his fingers in it, Tony traced the rim of Peter’s hole, the muscle clenching with the tickle-y caress. Tony used his free hand to fist his red cock while his lubed-up fingers traced and pushed until two of them were slipping into Peter’s warm embrace.

Tony didn’t spend much time teasing anything out – he pressed forward slowly until his fingers were fully seated, then pulled back and started a steady rhythm. He kept his thrusts even until he felt the tips of his fingers press against Peter’s prostate – the contact against it pulled a sticky glob of precum from the head of his cock.

“Oh, fuck! Tony – that’s fantastic.” Peter tossed his head back and forth, the words coming out of his mouth in loud shouts. “More – I need more. I want you inside of me.”

Running his tongue over his bottom lip, Tony pulled his fingers out swiftly and immediately pushed back in with 3 of them. He spread his fingers apart at the rim a couple of times in a desperate last-minute attempt to stretch him. Then, he pulled out completely and reached for the condom he placed carelessly on the comforter. He put the edge of the foil between his teeth and ripped it, a sigh of relief slipping from his lips when his fingers fumbled it out of the package.

Shaky fingers rolled the latex down his hard length, his fingers squeezing at the base when he got there. Closing his eyes, Tony heard the cap of the lube open and fingers that weren’t his own slick him up. He glanced down to see Peter looking at him impatiently, his cheeks beet red and covered in sweat. “Come on – “ Peter gasped out, obviously unable to control himself.

Not needing to be told more than once, Tony guided the head of his cock to Peter’s hole and pressed in, his upper body folding over the man below him. With each thrust forward, Tony got a little further inside, the warm heat enveloping him like a tight glove. His eyes were wide and his breathing erratic – it’d been a long time since he felt something so sweet; and the fact that it was Peter below him made it that much sweeter.

His hips rested against Peter’s ass as he finally bottomed out. Biting down into the skin of Peter’s shoulder, Tony let his hips roll forward, just that slight movement making the heat in his core bubble dangerously close to the rim. He turned his head enough to capture Peter’s lips, Tony drawing his hips back and snapping them forward as their tongues tangled.

The arousal rising between them was tangible – intensity swirled in the room around them. Peter broke away from the kiss to pant out loud breaths and moans; his chest rose and fell against Tony’s in a way that spoke of how good it actually felt. Tony took advantage of Peter’s distraction to sit up and grab his legs, throwing them up over his shoulder. The change in position let Tony slam in a little deeper – the tip of his cock nailed Peter’s prostate with every single thrust.

Signs of Peter’s orgasm overcame the younger man’s body progressively. Tony felt his toes curl against his fingers, then saw the rush of blood trail down Peter’s chest. It was a deep red, much like the color of his cock throbbing against the flatness of his stomach. The pearly bead of precum that dripped onto his stomach caught Tony’s eye, his vision focusing on the clear liquid. When Peter actually came apart under him, Tony couldn’t look away – thick ropes of cum covered his stomach.

Rhythmic clenching of Peter’s hole pulled Tony over the edge a thrust later. He managed to drop Peter’s legs down around his hips before falling down over him, his body suddenly heavier than Tony could manage.

Lips against the side of his head pulled him out of the haze a few minutes later – Peter was looking at him with a deep look of satisfaction on his face. Tony grinned up at him – his heart felt light and despite the fatigue that tried to pull him under, he’d never felt better. He managed to shift just enough to pull out, get the condom off and tied, and lay down heavily on Peter’s side. His heavy head rested on Peter’s muscled shoulder and finally, Tony let himself relax.

The next time Tony blinked, he was on his back with Peter tucked under his arm. His skin felt like it’d been wiped clean and the room around them was much darker than it’d been when things first started. Peter’s arm was across his chest and for the first time, he got the chance to look at the tattoos covering the entirety of it. There were a collection of roses wrapping around his forearm and over his bicep and deltoid. All of the free space was covered by cherry blossoms. It was simple and elegant – perfect for the man Tony was starting to know so much about.

Before relaxing back into the pillows, Tony gave Peter’s forehead a soft kiss – a smile slipping across his face as he did. Gripping the tattooed arm resting against him, Tony nestled into the warmth surrounding him and let himself drift back to sleep.

----

For a little while after that, Tony got to live in a state of bliss that shouldn’t have existed. Peter was passionate in all ways – breaking down the wall between them in the physical sense opened the floodgates and pulled them both under. For weeks, whenever they could get a free second to be together, Tony and Peter allowed the hunger to take over.

The guys at the firehouse were quickly accustomed to seeing Peter walk out in the early hours of the morning with a sleepy chief trailing after him for the chance at one more kiss. It quickly got too sickeningly sweet for them to make too much fun of it.

Tony was more than grateful for that – and not just because it got the guys off his back. Peter brought out a different side of him and for the first time, probably ever, Tony had someone else that got him to the very core. With Peter, Tony could be himself.

They were able to live in the fuzziness of the novelty of their relationship for 10 weeks before the reality of Tony’s job came crashing down around them like the scary thing it actually was. He’d been lucky, to have met Peter during a time when things were slow around the station. In the years he’d been working, Tony knew lulls didn’t last for long – and when they came to a grinding halt, there was always something catastrophic to blame.

Getting a call on his day off, Tony immediately knew there was something wrong. Fury, the Captain in charge when he and Bucky weren’t around rarely called him. Even when he was actually needed. Seeing his name on the caller-id had him kissing Peter on the check and excusing himself to the hall of the restaurant they were at. He didn’t miss the concern etched on Peter’s brow – though, the depth of it was not yet understood.

By some sort of weird gut feeling, Peter already knew he had to go when he walked back into the room. He paid the check while Tony was on the phone and was waiting by the door. “I’m sorry, Pete. There’s a multiple building fire and they’re calling everyone in. I have to go,” Tony explained, his thumb hitching over his shoulder like Peter didn’t know Tony’s truck was parked outside. “I’ll come back when I can.”

With a soft kiss and what felt like a desperate hug, Tony was turning on his heel and heading towards the location he’d been given. The enormity of it hit him when he realized how backed up traffic was on his way to get a couple of miles down the road. Pulling up, Tony covered his mouth when he saw the entirety of the brand-new commercial shopping center on fire.

It didn’t take long to find Bucky, who was also in a similar state of civilian dress – they looked at each other with wide eyes, knocked shoulders, and walked into the scene with as much confidence as they could. Aside from the battalion chief that hadn’t been called in, they were the highest ranking on the scene.

Tony didn’t hesitate to move around and get into a suit while collecting all of the facts. They were four trucks deep and pulling as much water as they possibly could. There hadn’t been signs of explosion, but the intensity of the fire meant it had a mind of its own – a change could occur in a heartbeat. Unable to think of anything else he’d need to know, Tony tucked in behind Bucky on their truck’s line.

The fire was too big to recognize all of the signs of the flashover that took the building down and 6 firefighters with it instantly. Tony, who’d been near the front of the building went flying back, landing in a heap not far from the truck. Disoriented, Tony got up and pulled anyone in his path up and off the ground. No matter what – they needed to get the fire under control.

It took another couple of hours and two more buildings falling to the ground to finally get the flames under control. Tony, who’d been dealing with dizziness and nausea since getting off the ground, called in for back up from neighboring stations – they needed manpower and they needed it quick. Falling against the side of the truck when things were finally out of his hands, Tony retched, then slipped down further until he was on the ground.

A panicked look in Bucky’s eyes was the last thing Tony remembered before the blackness of a severe concussion and fatigue overtook him.

Waking up in a hospital bed wasn’t what he expected when he walked onto the scene the night before. Peter and Bucky, both pale with what he could only assume was worry, were staring at him when he blinked awake. The lights in the room were incredibly bright and the figures of his two favorite humans were a little wonky – but, he felt glad to be alive.

“We got it stopped, right? I didn’t punk out before the fun was over?” Tony asked, his voice foreign to his own ears – he sounded loopy, the words slurred a little. Whatever they had him on, it was doing the trick. He felt woozy and without a single ounce of pain.

Peter grabbed his hand and let out a snuffled laugh – for the first time since coming to, Tony could see the tear streaks on Peter’s cheeks. Reaching out to him, he gestured with his fingers for Peter to come closer. In the state he was in, it probably didn’t look coordinated, but his boyfriend came over, anyway. He let out a sigh against Tony’s chest when he pulled him close – the feeling of Peter was the only thing Tony needed in that moment.

“We got it handled, Chief – no worries. There was a lot of damage and we’re… 6 men short; but we stopped it.” Bucky’s voice cut through the little bit of goodness he was feeling – the memory of the blast and the guys they couldn’t get to respond hit him like a bus. 6 good men. Clenching at the hand that he was more than grateful to be holding, Tony let tears he couldn’t control fall.

Without any hesitation, both of the guys in the room wrapped him up in a hug – the sensitivity of his head and body be damned. He felt the sleeve of his hospital gown get more and more wet with tears; the spot Bucky was claiming a total mess when the moment finally broke. Tony clapped a hand against Bucky’s arm a few times in solidarity – the two of them sharing a look.

After a little while of merely existing in the same room together, Bucky got up and moved towards the door. “I’m gonna go home and sleep – now that I know you’re okay, I can stop worrying Steve.” Bucky flashed him a halfhearted smile, the forced nature of it making Tony’s stomach churn a little bit.

It should’ve been a sign – the unease he felt. Yet, Tony was just grateful to be there and have Peter sitting there by his side. That lasted all of ten minutes before Peter was bringing his hand up to his mouth for a lingering kiss – then, he let it go and got up. Tony pinched his eyebrows together – the move making his head ache through the haze of the drugs. “Pete?” Tony mumbled; his body suddenly frozen.

“Tony – I’m glad you’re okay. I needed to make sure you were.” Peter looked at him, the man desperate to portray something in the way he stared at him. Tony didn’t blink – the thought of closing his eyes meant Peter would disappear that much sooner. “I think I need some time to think. I’ve lost so many people in my life – the idea of you being one of them the past twelve hours was a little soul crushing.”

He took a step towards Tony and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Please understand. I just need some time.”

Tony tried not to let the sob that shattered him go until he heard the click of the door closing behind him. It was probably the head injury – making him feel like the world titled a bit off its axis at the sight of Peter’s back to him. He suddenly wished for the numb feeling he experienced the first couple of seconds of coming to – at least then the feelings wouldn’t be sitting on his chest, threatening to stomp him into the dirt and keep him there.

----

The doctor kept him in the hospital for another day to make sure they observed his brain function and symptoms fully. Bucky and Steve grabbed him when he was released and plied him with greasy cheeseburgers and fries before dropping him back at his house. He still had a couple of days off, so he bypassed his living room and dropped onto the bed. It smelt like Peter – everything in the place did. Stuffing his face into the pillow that Peter usually slept on, Tony let his tears lull him to sleep.

That went on for about 16 hours – he slept for a while, came to and got lost in the rush of emotions that he couldn’t control, then fell asleep again. A part of him was glad that Peter wasn’t around to see him – he wasn’t stable in any way. Peter deserved much more than that; much more than him.

His inability to sit still for long had him heading back to the station the next day – sitting around his house that was swarming with fresh memories of the person he thought he might really let himself have fully wasn’t going to get him anywhere. It felt more painful than the ache in his head ever could.

He didn’t take into account, however, that 2 of his own guys were taken from them in the horrendous fire that, at that point in his career, was the worst one Tony experienced. The mood around the station was somber and only made the entire body ache that engulfed him so much worse. Funeral service plans were waiting on his desk, the sleek black of the folder finally making the situation real.

In a desperate attempt to find that numbness again, Tony got lost in the mountain of work that he’d been putting off. Between the hands-on part of the job and sneaking off to spend as much time with Peter as he could, Tony let a lot of his duties slack. Now that he didn’t have anything to look forward to, the least he could do was get his work done.

The funeral ceremonies were the following week – seeing everyone dressed in their Class A’s usually made him beam with pride; but it made his heart heavy, instead. Tony made his speeches about Quill and Draxx with as much emotion as he could pull from himself. He stood at the front right of the procession and did his best to bring comfort to anyone that needed it. All the while, Tony found himself falling apart more and more – it was all too much at once.

Making his excuses as early as he could, Tony got back to his house without turning around. He never distanced himself like that from the job that was so important to him. Yet, he found himself unable to give himself to the people that needed that from him – so, he got out and went to hide his tail between his legs in the privacy of his own home.

What he didn’t expect, however, was Peter’s car parked in his driveway, the man leaning against his driver’s side door. Tony tried not to smile, his face a little unsure of the movement pattern, anyway. Seeing the person who’d been on his mind non-stop since he walked out of the hospital room made Tony feel a lot of things. Relief the first among them.

Before getting out of the car, Tony ran his hands over his eyes and down his face. There wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d be able to wipe the sadness and days’ worth of tears from his face – but it felt good to try. Sinking his hat low on his brow, Tony finally climbed out – the entirety of him feeling on edge.

Peter didn’t wait to approach him, he filled up the space between them and threw his arms around Tony’s shoulders. The touch was too nice to worry about anything else, Tony merely leaned into it – his own hands wrapping around Peter’s waist. Closing his eyes didn’t feel like inviting in a nightmare, so he tilted his head and let his chin rest of Peter’s shoulder. The weight of everything left him; just for a second.

Wordlessly, Tony pulled back and grabbed Peter’s hand. Much like the first time he brought him home, Tony led Peter through the door – only this time, they stopped in the kitchen. Tony let go and went about taking his hat and gloves off, the fancy things getting brushed to the corner of his otherwise empty counter. He didn’t stop moving until the crisp jacket was off his shoulders and slung over one of the chairs pushed into the table.

“Tony, I – “ Peter started. His hands gripped the edge of Tony’s counter, the knuckles turning white.

“If you’re going to say you’re sorry, don’t. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. My job is scary and it’s a lot to handle. Even for me,” Tony said, the last couple of words coming out breathlessly. The truth behind them made him want to curl up in a ball. He walked to the fridge and grabbed two beers, instead – anything to distract himself.

Their fingers brushed when Tony handed over the bottle – Peter’s fingers held his purposely, the warmth of his touch scalding, the scorch a delicious pleasure-pain of uncertainty and deep want clutching and not letting go. It felt good – even if it was fleeting; having Peter back at all was enough.

“I was just going to say that you look good – in your uniform. It suits you. You embody it. I didn’t know what I came here to say, to be honest. I just knew that I wanted to be here,” Peter stopped to take a long pull of the beer, his eyebrows arching at the hoppy taste of the IPA. He let silence build up for a moment – their eyes never leaving each other. “I think that’s enough. To be bigger than the worry. Being here, I mean. With you.”

The click of glass on the counter was the last thing Tony remembered before Peter’s lips were on his. He could still taste the beer on Peter’s tongue – the bitterness of it made the slide and press of their lips together that much sweeter. Huffing out a breath through his nose, Tony gripped Peter’s cheeks and tilted his head further, deepening the kiss.

“I need you to be sure, Pete,” Tony whispered after a while, his forehead resting against Peter’s. “You’re it. Don’t let me get used to you if you’re going to disappear.” It was more than he meant to say, but now that it was out there, Tony felt a bit better for it.

Peter grabbed the back of Tony’s arms, the touch soft, his thumb moving over the thin white shirt there. He gave Tony a brief kiss – and then another. “I’m sure, Tony.”

#starker #starkerfestivalsevents #bobbie writes

[schrijverr]

School at Work

A classic field trip to Stark Tower, where Peter already works and they find out fic. 

Here Peter is already in the building when he stumbles upon his classmates on a field trip, they are a bit surprised to see him there.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none, but tell me if I need to tag something!

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the other class who got to go on the field trip in the end, it was on the day the rest of the school was free and Peter didn’t mind not going all that much if he was being honest. He and field trips didn’t have the best of history. Besides he would get to spend an extra day at the Stark Tower on his “internship”, even though it wasn’t really an internship anymore.

It had all happened when Pepper and Tony wanted to go on a vacation and Peter had wholeheartedly encouraged them, but they didn’t have anyone to watch over all the projects. Peter really wanted them to go, because they deserved it, so he had offered to do it as a joke. And Pepper and Tony had taken it completely seriously. So a week later he found himself in charge of the biggest company in the world.

When Pepper and Tony came back everyone had been very enthusiastic about Peter, who had enjoyed being in charge a lot, minus the sleep deprivation, but he was used to that. After that he helped much more in the Tower itself. He oversaw the other interns and checked projects in all the departments before they went into production. He practically worked full time and he earned money.

The money he earned he saved for college so that May could use the money she had been saving for him to go to school and go up in the hospital. This was also why he lived in the Tower with Tony and Pepper. Life was great, it was amazing even. He had everything going for him, outside of school that is. No one believed him there, but he didn’t mind MJ and Ned believed him and that was what was important for him. He had wanted to invite them to hang out today, but they were going on that field trip to, uh..., Peter had forgotten where to, but they were both going, he knew that.

He got out of bed at 8:00 and put on Tonys too big for him Stark Industries sweater and some jeans. He ate some breakfast and decided to chill on the Intern Levels today as he reviewed some of the stuff there and went through the projects he was sent.

~

The Midtown Tech class was standing in front of Stark Tower with wonder in their eyes. It was an impressive building and only MJ wasn’t looking up. Ned leaned over to her and said: “I wonder if we bump into Peter today.”

MJ shrugged, but didn’t get to respond because Flash pushed through them while loudly exclaiming: “It so sad that you two believe Penises lies.”

MJ rolled her eyes and said: “Just because you are too dumb to get a spot doesn’t mean Peter is, alternative.”

Flash huffed, but left them alone in favor of getting in front of the group as they started to walk inside. Their teacher got to the desk and the woman behind them pointed them in the right direction where a thirty-year-old woman was waiting on them with a basket of badges. She smiled: “Hello everyone, I’m Mira and I’ll be your tour guide today. I will give you a badge, which you need to pin on your clothes. Do not take this off, because you will be escorted out of the building. At the end of the tour you will have to give them back.”

Then she went down the line handing them out and the tour began. Mira talked about the history of the building while they went through a small museum, the Arc-Reactor and the current projects.

They got into the elevator and the tour guide said: “We’re going to the Intern Levels, there our 50 interns work on their own projects next to the work they do for the employee they follow. I have ask you to be respectful and leave them to do their work. There will be a few who we can ask questions about their internship. You are talking to the bright minds of the future, so be polite.”

After that the elevator doors opened and they were in a gigantic space. There were work stations everywhere and it was one big hive of production. People were walking in and out, packages were bing delivered and from time to time lights flashed. The group moved slowly as they tried to take everything in, when they were distracted by a loud cackle and a loud yell.

“NO!”

Then an explosion. They whipped their heads towards the sound and saw no one other than Peter in a SI sweater laughing while standing next to a table while brushing a bit of dust out of his hair. Next to him stood a college aged guy with big shocked eyes. Peter put a hand on his shoulder and said: “I told you it would be fine.”

“It exploded.” the guy said back.

“Yeah, that was the point. We put it in danger of being captured by someone unknown, so it self destructed. We can employ these safely to distribute information without risking enemy capture.” Peter was still grinning manically.

From a station over someone arrived with a fire extinguisher. She put out the small burning robot and said: “Really Peter, you need to stop testing explosive stuff here when it’s not from here. You’re scaring people.”

“If they want to work on the higher levels they need to get used to sudden explosions, I’m doing them a favor.” Peter shot back with a smile, then he added: “Besides, who doesn’t love a good explosion.”

The girl only rolled her eyes and pushed Peter. Then she waved and said: “I have a tour to go to, see ya.”

“No, wait. I’ll come with.” Peter ran after her, “I’ll green light this for production and then I need a break I’ve been busy since 8:30. And I’ve promised to help on Level 80 when I wasn’t busy and I don’t want to go without taking a break, so I need to be busy.”

“Only you, Peter, only you. What were you going to help with?” the girl said, they were pretty close now.

“Just the alien tech stuff. We’re trying to figure out if it can give us clues for better and cleaner energy or if it’s harmful to the environment as well.” Peter said.

They were next to the group now and the girl said: “Hello everyone. I’m Kyra and I’m an intern here. I’ll be answering your questions about the internships at Stark Industries and if I don’t know it Peter here can answer you.”

She pointed at Peter who looked up from his hologram tablet and promptly dropped it. The small rectangle device hit the ground and the hologram disappeared. He quickly picked it up, straightened himself and said: “Uhm, hi guys. Fun to see you here.”

“What the hell are you doing here!”  and Flash had found his words again.

Kyra raised his eyebrow at Peter who rolled his eyes back at her and said: “These people are from my school, I forgot they had a field trip here today. So, I think I’m just going to bail on you and help upstairs.”

He started to walk away, but Kyra got a evil glint in her eyes and she grabbed his collar. He chocked on it and shot a glare back. “Let me go!”

“Nope,” Kyra replied, “This is way too funny and you still owe me for hiding you form Clint last week.”

“That’s no fair.” Peter whined, “You said I didn’t owe you because no one should be tester for punch-arrows, and I got you that material you asked for, I even rushed it.”

Kyra gave zero fucks about his complaints: “I retract that statement. You owe me, now stay and answer this nice boys question.”

She pointed at Flash and Peters face turned sour. “He’s not a nice boy.” he whispered, then he said: “Well, Flash, since I am free from school today, I’m using my extra time to work. I thought I told you about working here.”

“Yeah, but you were lying. You have to be. They don’t take High-schoolers as interns I called and asked.” Flash was frowning.

Kyra said: “They don’t, but Peter isn’t an intern. Seriously, did no one believe you?”

Peter shrugged: “Ned and MJ do, right?”

Ned nodded excitedly and gave him two thumbs up and MJ also nodded, but more subtle. Kyra smiled at them, meanwhile Flash was having some sort of meltdown. He said: “If Peter isn’t an intern, what is he doing here. He doesn’t even have a badge, so shouldn’t he be escorted out of the building?”

Kyra started laughing now and Flash was getting mad. He was demanding an explanation and Kyra managed to wheeze: “Peter is a full time employee, he is so high up he doesn’t even need a badge and you, you all just didn’t believe him. That’s really fucking funny.”

Kyra dissolved back into giggles and Peter just rolled his eyes at her antics. The teacher broke the shocked silence with: “Uhm, can you tell about your position in the company.”

He too was trying to wrap his head around the fact that Peter had a full time job at he company they first didn’t even believe him to have an internship at. He needed someone to talk so that he could regroup himself.

Peter was also taken aback by the question, but soon answered: “I’m a bit of the last stop before things go into production. Everything that this Stark Industries building makes goes through me or Mr. Stark, but I’m also a helper. I go around and help where extra hands are needed.”

His watch bleeped and he said: “Speaking of that, they really need me now, so I have to go, but enjoy your tour! I hope you enjoy the robot exercise I designed at the end.”

And then he was running away while putting an ear piece in. Before the elevator closed behind them they could hear him say: “Do not touch a thing. Try to stay still the particles are-”

Kyra had now sobered up some more and she said: “Peter is one of our best, but he is very humble. There is no one in this building who doesn’t like Peter. There are rumors that he was in charge for a week and is the heir of the company, but those are just rumors, for now.”

The whole group was silent. Their brain was overflowing with information and no one knew what to make of all of this. This wasn’t Peter, it couldn’t be. The tour guide seemed to sense this, because she clapped in her hands and said: “Well, why don’t we take a break. It’s lunch time, follow me.”

As a horde of zombies they followed her.

Peter avoided school for the next two days, but after that he never got called Penis or a liar ever again.

#RR writing #marvel #peter parker #ned leeds #mj #michelle jones #field trip #MCU #mcu peter parker #Flash Thompson

[itsberrie]

Anyone asked for browneis? (BuckyxReader)

Summary: Your father it's a war veteran and he asks you to go with him to a veteran reunion in wich Captain America it's invited. What you didn't know it's that Bucky Barnes was going too.

Words: 1129

Warnings: Sorry if there are any grammar errors. English it's not my first language.

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

I didn't like to go with my dad to the veterans reunions, but he didn't want to go alone. He looked so happy being able to share his fears with people that had been in a similar situation. I simply couldn't say no. That is why every Friday afternoon I spend hours backing muffins, pies and brownies. The ones that I had made for that reunion had red, white and blue decorations because Mr. Captain America was going to be there.

"This brownies taste really good sweaty. You should wear the dress that you bought some months ago." he said meanwhile I finished cleaning the dishes. "The pin-up dress? Don't you think it's too much?" I asked lifting one eyebrow. "I am sure the Captain would like it."

So there I was wearing a pin-up dress next to a table filled with pies, muffins and brownies meanwhile the Captain and, for my surprise, James Buchanan Barnes were talking to my dad. Before I could realised the three of then were in front of me.

"And this is my daughter Y/N. She is who made the pastries for every reunion." my dad introduced me meanwhile I forced a smile trying to not faint. "They are delicious Y/N it's an honor for us to be here." Steve Rogers said to me meanwhile his friend, James, looked in other direction. "Thank you Captain Rogers we are delighted with your presence." he smiled at me. "Call me Steve. Bucky don't you wanted to thank the lady?" Steve poked Bucky who looked at him angrily. "Thank you for inviting us." he was clearly lying. "It's our pleasure."

He wasn't even looking at me when he nodded in response. After that, other people started talking with they so I decided to go outside to breath.

It was a beautiful day outside. I decided to sit down in a bench and enjoy the sun. The birds were singing and I closed my eyes. I don't know how much time I had spent like that, but when I opened my eyes he was next to me.

"Oh my God. You almost killed me. How much time have you been there?" I asked breathing heavily. "A couple of minutes." Bucky replied. "You are like a ninja." I laughted. "I came to apologise." he looked to the ground. "It's fine. I guess it might be hard to come to something like this. A war doesn't finish that quick inside here." I said pointing to my head. He looked to me and forced a smile. We spent a moment in a comfortable silence.

"Bucks I've been looking for you like crazy. Natasha called. We have to go." the Captain was at the door with a couple of motorcycle helmets. Bucky got up and grapped one. They started to walk to a pair of motorcycles, but halfway there Bucky turned around and he looked at me.

"See you" he said. "See you" I replied.

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

Some weeks passed. I didn't think more about the event. I was at home when my young sister arrived. A guy was with her.

"Did you eat all the cookies?" she said meanwhile looking in one of the cupboards. "It's nice to see you too. They are in the one above the sink. Who is your friend?" "I am Peter. Peter Parker." "Nice to meet you Peter my name is Y/N." the boy looked pretty nervous. "Whatever." my sister said leaving the kitchen with Peter and the cookies.

Some hours later Peter returned to the kitchen.

"Y/N?" he said. I looked at him raising my eyebrows inviting him to continue talking. "A friend of mine asked me to give you this." he said handling me a piece of paper. I grabbed the paper and when I was going to ask him who was his friend he wasn't there. I opened the paper.

"The Captain misses your browneis . Do you think you can do more and bring them to..."

There was a direction in the paper. I was in shock. This had to be a joke, but something in me told me it wasn't. So I decided to get up and cook the browneis.

By the time I finished it was already late. I grabbed a jacket, the car keys and the browneis and I drived to the place. When I arrived the small house I jumped out of the car and knocked at the door.

"Bucky go open the door!" I heard a voice from the inside followed by quick steps. The door opened reveling me Bucky Barnes.

"Anyone asked for brownies?" I said with a smile. He smiled back to me. "I didn't though you will come." he said inviting me to pass. I entered the house. "I wanted to know if it was a joke or not."

"Hey Y/N. Did you bring the brownies?" Steve was closing the door of what I thought was their kitchen. "Did you set the kitchen on fire again? Bucky asked with a smile on his face."Don't expose me like that." Steve pushed him slightly.

We talked for a while meanwhile the supersodiers devoured the browneys.

"We have to make you part of the team Y/N." Steve said. "Do I get a badge? A codename? Oh my God, a flamethrower?" I asked. "We will have to ask Natasha about the flamethrower, but I think your codename could be Sweety." Bucky said.

My phone started ringing interrupting the conversation. It was my father.

"Yes?" I said realising he didn't know where I was. "I was so scared Y/N. Where are you?" "At Captain America's house." I answered. "That you are where?" I give the phone to Steve. "Hello?" he said.

"That was Steve Rogers. I have the car so don't worry. I will be there in fifteen minutes." I hung up the phone. "I have to go now."

"Do you want me to go with you? It's late and you shouldn't be out alone this late." Bucky suggested.

"It's fine. I won't walk home. I have my car." I declined his offer. "Let me at least escort you to your car." Bucky insisted. "If you don't let him he is going to be worried the hole night." Captain said with a smile. "Don't set nothing in fire in our absence."

Bucky and I walked to my car. "You were right that was a long dangerous walk. I don't know what I would done without your protection." I joked. "I didn't want to say this in front of Steve, but do you want to have dinner with me someday?" he asked. "It would be a pleasure Bucky. Will you send me a note with the time and the place?" He smiled in response.

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

This fic it's for the sad hatters fic party and the topic that I choosed it's the number 4 "Do I get a badge? A codename? Oh my God, a flamethrower?"

@the--sad--hatter hope you like it! ❤️

#marvel fic #marvel #hattersficparty #james bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #writing challenge #writing

[eightmakar]

A Summer At Stark / One / P.P.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Original Character

Summary: Cameron Murphy is a Georgia girl working in the Big Apple over the summer with Stark Industries and their “most promising employee” Peter Parker.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: ENDGAME SPOILERS

A/N: I know i was supposed to post this yesterday but hey tumblr is a piece of shit and deleted the whole ass post when i tried to schedule it. so here it is instead! the Tag List is open so shoot me an ask! shoutout to @the-claire-bitch-project for beta reading!

Cameron placed her box down on the couch of her tiny new Queens apartment. She tugged her tank top down and her running shorts up again; her shirt always seemed to creep up her tummy while her shorts slid down her butt, especially when she carried things.

She was dripping with sweat. When she accepted this summer job in Queens, she expected it to be cooler than the Atlanta summers she’d grown up with. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and wiped the sweat off onto her shorts. Her hair was sticking to her throat and neck and she could feel it frizzing up. Why had she come up north away from the humidity just to have her hair frizz up wildly while she was moving in?

She pulled her hair down from and flipped her head over, combing through her thin, blonde-kissed brown curls and forming them back into their ponytail. She bound them with her hair tie, making sure she got as many of the flyaways as she could.  She fanned at herself for a moment, trying to cool off before she had to trek back downstairs and outside to her car. Only a few boxes left, she thought to herself.

Cam took a deep breath and placed her hands on her hips. She bit the inside of her lip, tugging on it as she looked around the shoebox. She wished her parents had been able to come up and help her move, but they didn’t have the work time off since they’d taken time off to go on vacation together with her sister.

She finally walked out of the door of her apartment and padded down the hall to the elevator. Her building had just been renovated by Stark Industries, Cam’s new employer. She was working a summer internship with them that she hoped would turn into a job someday. She’d been told by the hiring manager she’d be working on some sort of “special” project with Stark’s “most promising team member.”

She wished this promising team member could’ve helped her move her stuff in. Cam nearly cried in joy as she realized she just had one box and her backpack left to move in. She swung her backpack on her shoulders and trudged to her trunk to lift up the box. She placed it gently on the ground as she shut her trunk door and locked her car with the remote on her key. She leaned back down with a groan, grabbed the far corners of the box, and headed back inside her apartment building.

She waited for the elevator patiently, thankful she’d left the lightest box for last. The elevator doors opened with a ding and she stepped in.

The doors began to close and Cam heard a small call of “wait!” She groaned and stuck her foot in the door to prevent it from closing as a boy came running into the elevator with you. He was on the smaller side, just a few inches taller than Cam. He shoved his unruly brown hair out of his face as he grinned.

“Thanks,” he said breathlessly. “What floor?”

“Um, seven,” she said, pressing her lips together. She was still sweating, still horribly sticky, and didn’t have the energy to be talkative.

“Sure thing,” the boy said. He pressed the “7” button and only the seven button. He bounced up and down, full of energy for some reason. Maybe he enjoyed the god-awful heat. “I’m on seven, too.”

Cam just looked at him, lips still pressed together over her teeth, and nodded.

“You, uh, just moving in?” he asked. He turned to press his back against the opposite side of the elevator, grabbing the handrail.

“Yep,” Cam said. “I’ll be here all summer.”

The boy opened his mouth to speak again, perhaps to introduce himself or welcome her, but the door dinged open again. Cam mumbled a quick “bye” and hurried off the elevator, walking quickly to her apartment.

She plopped the box down and sighed, tugging her backpack off her back and letting it gently drop to the floor. Cam kicked her flip-flops off and padded to the thermostat. It was set on 70, but she felt like she was melting, so she reset it to 62. She would set it to probably 65 later, but for right then, she needed to cool off.

Cam ripped her shirt off and stood in the middle of the room in her sports bra. She looked down at her tummy, turning her nose up a tiny bit at the purple stretch marks that decorated her stomach. She shrugged, then laid down on the floor. She was surprised at how much cooler it was.

Cameron laid for a few moments before forcing herself to get up again. She found her box labeled “BEDROOM” in her sister’s handwriting and carried it into her room with her. She dropped it on her Queen-sized bed, then sighed when she remembered she left her pocket knife in her backpack. She padded back into the living room and grabbed her backpack, dragging it into her bedroom and lifting it up on the bed with the box. She dug through the small front pocket until she felt her knife.

“Aha!” she exclaimed, pulling it out and tugging the blade out of its cover. She cut the tape on the box, pushed the blade back in, then tossed her closed knife on the bed. She ripped open the box and was greeted with a framed picture of her, her sister, and her best friend, Maggie. She grinned at it, pulling the frame out of the box and immediately placing it on her bedside table.

She unpacked for a while, making her new place feel like home. She kept a list in a note on her phone of what all she needed. Her new landlord had left her a welcome basket with things like toilet paper and paper towels and soap, which was wonderful. She did, however, have to order pizza, since she had no food in the house, but she wasn’t complaining about buying New York pizza.

Cam arrived extra early at the Stark Industries in the morning. It was situated near Prospect Park, a quick Subway ride from her Queens apartment over to Brooklyn. She walked into the enormous building, nervously feeling the gel fingernail polish that adorned her nails. She was excited nervous, but still scared her new employer or this promising recruit she would be working with would somehow deny her a job.

The secretary at the front desk directed her to the elevator and told her to go to the 45th floor. She thanked the secretary and walked nervously to the elevator. Cam’s eyes went wide as she looked at the directory next to the elevator button. 45TH FLOOR: MS. PEPPER POTTS, CEO, it read. The CEO? Why was she meeting the CEO?

Nevertheless, she stepped onto the elevator and hit the button. The doors began to close when she heard a small call of, “Hold the door!”

Cam stuck her hand between the elevator doors to force them to open again. Standing in front of the open doors was none other than the chirpy, brunette boy she’d met the day before in the apartment elevator.

He looked confused as he stepped onto the elevator. “Is this, like, a glitch in the Matrix or something? Didn’t we meet yesterday on an elevator?”

Cam pressed her lips together and nodded. “Yep, we did. Are you, like, following me or something?”

The boy shook his head. “Oh, no no no, I work here.” He pointed to an extremely obvious Stark Industries badge hanging directly in front of Cam. “I’m Peter Parker.” He stuck out his hand.

“Cam Murphy,” she replied, shaking his hand.

“What floor?” he asked, turning to look at the buttons. He paused, about to reach for the “45” button when he realized it had already been pressed. “Oh, are you the summer intern?” He asked.

“I mean, I’m a summer intern,” she said, awkwardly.

“We only hired one intern this summer,” Peter said. “I could only convince Pepper to give me one helper.” He chuckled, then took a sip of a coffee he had in his hand.

“Oh,” Cam said, thinking. “So you’re this ‘up and comer’ I keep hearing about?”

Peter spluttered on his coffee. “‘Up and comer?’” he repeated. “I don’t know about that.”

“I was told I’d be working with the “most promising employee” here,” Cam explained.

“Oh.” Peter was shocked and stared at the wall ahead of him before puffing his chest up proudly.

“What do you do here?” Cam asked, turning to look at him.

“I do, uh, research,” he stuttered.

“On?”

“Um, have you heard of Spider-Man?”

Cam snorted. “The spandex-wearing dumbass that swings around the city? Yeah, I’ve heard of him.”

Peter’s cheeks flushed. “Um, yeah, that guy, he, um, he works here, kinda, I guess. But the webbing, um, stuff that he uses is super cool and I do research on it.”

Oh, so he’s Spider-Man, Cam thought. But he doesn’t want me to know. Wait. He’s Spider-Man. He, like, regularly gets in fights? And swings around the city with webs and shit? What the fuck? Why this guy? He’s so… tiny? Why spiders? Is he one of those weird bug guys? What the fuck?

“What’s so special about it?” Cam asked aloud, hiding her confusion. She examined him, looking for some enlightenment on why this guy specifically had become a worldwide phenomenon. He just seemed like a normal guy. A normal guy who liked to talk.

Peter’s face brightened. “It’s like, crazy strong, right? It’s got all kinds of qualities that could be used for other things, like in medicine, so we’re being contracted by a bunch of different agencies to see what other things it can do!”

Cam smiled. He was so passionate about this web stuff that her suspicion was immediately confirmed. He was, one hundred percent, Spider-Man. But why spiders? What was his deal with spiders? She had so many questions for him.

The elevator dinged and the doors swung open. Peter held his arm out, motioning for Cam to step out before he did.

“Ladies first,” he said.

She stepped out of the elevator and gazed around. It was incredible. Windows were everywhere, so it felt bright and warm in the room. Peter stepped out next to her, then ushered her to the front desk.

“Hi, can I help you?” the secretary asked. “Good morning, Peter.”

“Morning, Ashley!” Peter chirped happily.

“My name is Cameron Murphy, I’m the new intern,” Cam said. “I’m guessing I need a badge?”

“Welcome to Stark!” Ashley said. She fumbled in her desk for a moment before she pulled out a badge that read GUEST. “I’ll take your picture later and get you a permanent badge made, but for now, this will be yours! Peter can take you back to meet with Ms. Potts, and since you’ll be working with him, he’ll also show you your work station! If you need anything, let me know!”

Cam pinned the badge on the hem of her shirt. “Thanks!”

Peter pointed to a hallway behind him as Ashley went back to typing on her computer. “This way, madam,” he said.

Cam paused, curtsied at Peter, tugging her flower-print dress out, then continued into the hallway.

Peter laughed, and Cam felt a small surge of pride. She didn’t know why; maybe it was because Peter’s happiness was infectious, or maybe it was because she didn’t know a single soul in New York and he had been kind to her from the moment he met her. Either way, she walked down the hall, Peter hot on her tail, until she saw a sign on the door she was looking for.

“That’s it on your left,” Peter said from behind her.

Cam gasped dramatically. “No, really? I thought I was looking for the door that didn’t say ‘Pepper Potts, CEO.’”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Ha ha,” he said. “Very funny.”

Cam smirked and shrugged. “I try.”

Peter walked up to the door and just went inside, to Cam’s surprise. She looked at him incredulously as he held the door open for her, motioning her inside. “Why didn’t you knock?” she asked quietly as she walked inside.

“Because he doesn’t need to,” a strong woman’s voice said. Cam looked to the desk in the middle of the room to see none other than Pepper Potts, the CEO of Stark Industries and the widow of Tony Stark.

“Hi,” Cam squeaked. Pepper was one of her idols, so she couldn’t believe she was here.

“Hi, Cameron,” Pepper replied, coming around to the front of her desk to shake Cam’s hand. “We’re so excited to have you as part of the team.”

“I go by ‘Cam,’” she managed to get out.

“Oh, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t,” Cam started, “don’t worry about it! I’m very excited to be here.”

“I see you’ve already met Peter,” Pepper said as she walked back behind her desk. “Have a seat, please!”

Peter sat down in one of the two chairs in front of Pepper’s desk. He leaned back, looking at Cam as he put his hands behind his head.

Cam saw movement underneath Pepper’s desk, but as soon as she realized what was happening, there was a loud cry of, “BOO!”

Peter fell backwards out of his chair, landing face first but immediately jumping up perched forward on one hand with the other behind him. It was a pose Cam had seen Spider-Man do on the news, so she added that to another mental note under “Evidence Peter Parker is Spider-Man.”

A little girl, probably 7 or 8 years old, clambered to her feet, giggling. “Gotcha!” she said proudly.

Peter breathed deeply and looked at the ground, smiling and shaking his head. “You sure did, almost scared me to death!”

She giggled again, then ran towards Peter, who scooped her up in his arms, set his chair back up, and sat back down. Cam followed suit, sitting down in the chair next to him.

“This is our new friend, Cam,” Pepper said. “Morgan, can you say hi to Cam?”

The little girl turned her head and rested it on Peter. She waved at Cam. “Hi Cam,” she said softly.

“Hi,” Cam said back. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“This is my daughter, Morgan,” Pepper said. “She insists on coming to work with me during the summer.”

“It’s my company,” Morgan explained to Cam. “I’m going to be the CPO one day!”

“CEO, Morg,” Peter said softly.

Morgan pulled her head off his shoulder and glared at him. “That’s what I said.”

Peter laughed. “Sorry, Squirt, just wanted to make sure I heard you right.”

“You will,” Cam said to Morgan. She leaned in really close to her, then whispered: “Can I be your Vice President? When you’re the CPO?”

Morgan thought for a moment. “Yep. I’ll need someone with your, um, qual-i-fi-ca-tions.” She looked proudly at her mom after slowly pronouncing each syllable with precise annunciation.

Pepper shook her head, laughing. “Cam is definitely qualified.”

Morgan looked triumphantly at Cam. “You’re hired.”

Cam laughed. “I look forward to working with you, Miss Morgan.”

Peter chuckled, ruffling Morgan’s hair. “We gotta talk to your mom now, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” Morgan said, then laid her head back down on Peter’s shoulder.

“Alright,” Pepper said, folding her hands and putting them on the desk in front of her. “So, like I said, you’ll be working with Peter here doing some research for us. As I’m sure you know, Stark Industries has kind of become a, um, home for ‘superheroes,’ if you will, and we’ve begun research on one of these people’s item of choice.”

“Spider-Man’s web stuff, right?” Cam asked.

Pepper nodded. “Peter tell you in the elevator?”

“Sure did.”

“That’s exactly right. A lot of people are very interested in it, and—.”

“Excuse me? Mommy?” Morgan interrupted.

“Yes ma’am?” Pepper looked at Morgan.

“May I be excused to go potty?”

“Yes, you may, thanks for asking! Peter, will you take her?”

Morgan slid off Peter’s lap and Peter stood up. “I would be honored!” he cried. He took Morgan’s hand, then the two walked out of the room together.

Cam shifted in her chair. “So, um, Peter’s Spider-Man, right?”

Pepper pressed her lips together. “He told you too much in the elevator, huh?”

“Yes ma’am, he sure did.”

Pepper sighed. “He thinks he’s subtle about it, but he’s just excited. Please don’t tell him you know, at least not until he tells you. And act surprised when he tells you.”

“How many people know?” Cam asked.

“Um, probably everyone that works in the building. It’s a miracle he’s not all over the papers.”

“I’ll keep it to myself,” Cam laughed. “But it’s his web stuff we’re researching?”

“Yes. He created it himself, which is incredible to me. He’s a good kid, and he needs something to keep him occupied and safe during the summer, so I promised him and his aunt that he could work here. It’s been a rough few years for him,” Pepper said sadly. “He was very close with my husband.”

Cam nodded. Everyone knew what happened to Tony Stark.

“So just help him with what he needs,” Pepper continued. “He’s got a good little set up just down the hall. He’s essentially your boss, to be honest. It’s his project and we’re happy to fund it. If something happens, you come straight to me, okay?”

Cam nodded again. “Yes ma’am.”

The door swung open and Peter came running in with Morgan on his back, squealing in delight. He ran around the room a few times before he let her down and rejoined Cam and Pepper at the desk. Morgan ran back to her mom and crawled into Pepper’s lap.

“Alright,” Pepper said, hugging Morgan. “That’s all I have for now, Cam, unless you have any questions for me. We’ll send the chief administrator to do paperwork with you in a little bit. Otherwise, it’s all you, Peter!”

Peter grinned. “Lab time?”

Pepper smiled softly and nodded in response. Peter’s grin brightened, if it were possible.

Morgan looked up at her mom. “Mommy, can I go with Peter?”

“I’m sorry, sweetie, Peter’s going to work on his special project,” Pepper explained.

“And only grown-ups are allowed in Peter’s lab,” Morgan recited, as if she’d heard it a million times before. “I can’t wait to be a grown-up so I can help Peter, too!”

Pepper kissed Morgan’s head. “He’d love that, sweetheart.”

“I sure would,” Peter agreed. “But I’ll see you for our dinner date, okay Squirt?”

“Okay!” Morgan cheered. She slid off Pepper’s lap, then skipped to the corner of the room where a myriad of toys lay on the floor.

“We’ll see ya later, Pepper!” Peter claimed, standing up and walking towards the door. Cameron quickly stood up and scurried after Peter, wondering, how does he move so goddamn fast?

She was a little out of breath when she and Peter reached the lab. Peter Parker moved far quicker than he should have, and she wondered if it was because of all that Spider-Man shit. What even was the story on that?

“So here it is!” Peter proudly sang. “This is where the magic happens.”

Cam gave him a look, unamused.

Peter giggled, unphased. “So, until you get your keycard, I’ll have to key you in,” he began, swiping his badge and opening the door. The lights of the lab automatically came on, illuminating the various equipment strewn about the room. Cam gazed around, taking in everything.

Peter was grinning from ear to ear. “It’s um, pretty sick, right?” he asked, puffing his chest up a little. “I designed the whole thing myself.”

Cam started walking around the perimeter of the room, looking in jars, reading labels, checking out the equipment. It was an impressive set up; Peter had all the latest tech in his little lab, to no one’s surprise.

“This is some pretty impressive shit, Parker,” Cam said, leaning against a counter and crossing her arms. “What do you need me here for?”

“I mean, what’s not to like about a physics and electrical engineering double major from Georgia Tech?” Peter spouted. “I didn’t even know they let you double major in those.”

“I mean,” Cam began, “they usually don’t. I had to petition them hard to let me do it. They told me, ‘If I wanted to do that I should’ve gone to MIT.’”

“What’s so bad about MIT?” Peter asked, mimicking Cam’s stance and smirking.

“It’s in the north, that’s what’s so bad about MIT. I’m a Southern girl, through and through.”

“But you’re in the north right now, aren’t you?”

“For the summer, yeah,” Cam countered. “I hate snow. I could never live up here full-time.”

Peter gaped. “You hate snow? Why?”

“It’s cold and wet and makes everything else cold and wet.” Cam shuddered at the thought of the winter in New York.

Peter continued to stare. “Wow.”

“Bet you couldn’t survive a day in a Georgia summer,” Cam challenged with a grin.

“Oh really?” Peter countered. “How so?”

“Well, y’all don’t know anything about humidity up here. At home in the middle of July, good God you can’t leave the house for a second without sweat pouring down your whole body,” Cam explained. “It can get up to 90 degrees plus one hundred percent humidity.”

“Whoa, what?” Peter was taken aback. “How is that possible?”

Cam shrugged. “Wish I knew, Parker, wish I knew. So, are we gonna, like, work?”

“Oh,” Peter said, a little disappointed.

The feeling is mutual, Cam thought. Peter Parker was a really cool dude.

“Oh, my god!” Peter laughed, walking Cameron down the street to his favorite cafe. “People in the south really say that?”

“Oh yeah,” Cam replied. “I can’t tell you how many goddamn racist comments I hear every day. It’s so blatant it’s crazy. Once, my great-grandfather met a friend of mine from upstate New York, and when I told him where she was from, he looked at her and deadass say, ‘Oh you’re a Yankee? Well I’m a rebel!’ And cackled about it.”

“Yikes,” Peter said.

“He also told me that if I brought home a black guy he’d disown me, so that was pretty cool too,” Cam said nonchalantly.

Peter’s eyes bulged. “Excuse me?”

“Yep, you heard me exactly right. He uses the n-word with a hard ‘-er’ at the end, too, and sees nothing wrong with it. I had half a thought to bring home a black girl as a fake girlfriend just to see his reaction.”

“Wow.” Peter was blown away.

Cam shrugged. “It’s fine, he’s ninety-nine years old and we’re just waiting for him to die.”

“Cameron!” Peter gasped.

Cam didn’t regret it. It was true; her great-grandfather had lived a long, full life and he himself would tell you he’d been ready to die for thirty years.

But she also rather liked the way Peter said her full name, even though she’d never gone by ‘Cameron.’ Her parents decided she was ‘Cam’ when she was five days old. She didn’t really associate herself with the name ‘Cameron,’ but if that’s what Peter Parker wanted to call her, then she wasn’t going to stop him.

“I mean, he’s been ready to die since he turned seventy,” Cam explained.

“That’s horrible, Cam!” Peter said, holding back a laugh.

“He’s a racist old man, Peter!” Cam said in the same tone. “The south created him that way, and it’s unfortunate. The south creates a lot of people that way.”

“It didn’t create you that way,” Peter said softly.

“Well, yeah, my dad is from the north and my mom is from the south, so I had the best of both worlds. I practically grew up in Philly.”

Peter opened the cafe door for Cam and she stepped inside. “Where’s your mom from?” he asked, letting the door close behind him.

“Tuscaloosa,” she replied, heading towards a small booth in the back corner. “Her parents were Alabama graduates. She went to Georgia Tech, met my dad, stayed in Georgia.”

“Interesting,” Peter said, trailing after her. “Why’d your dad go to Tech?”

“Engineering. He’s a computer engineer, Mom’s a mechanical engineer. They make a great team.” Cam slide into the booth.

“Oh shit,” Peter said softly, sliding in across from Cam. “That’s a lot of money.”

“My parents are minimalists. We spend the money on experiences, not stuff. We understand we’re very lucky and we do what we can to help people that aren’t as lucky as we are,” she explained.

Cam and her family had personally gone on mission trips to different countries every summer since she was eight. Her mom had started an anonymous charity to bring low-cost, long-lived technology to third world countries, and when they could, the Murphy family personally took their technology to the people that needed it. In high school, Cam designed a solar-powered wheelchair specifically for rural communities. She called it “The Off-roader,” and she went with her mom to deliver it all over the world. She adored their summers abroad helping people. She always wished she could stay longer and help more.

She wanted to improve people’s lives with her degrees by making technology more accessible for the people she met on her trips. She knew about Tony Stark’s reach into renewable, sustainable energy, like his arc reactor, and she was hoping that she could utilize some of Stark’s tech and apply it to the work she’d been doing with her parents all her life. She hoped that maybe Stark Industries --and, by extension, Peter Parker-- would share her desire to help make life better for people who weren’t as lucky as she was.  

“Oh,” Peter squeaked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—.”

“It’s cool,” Cam said. “A lot of people think I’m just some entitled white girl, so I’m quick to defend myself.”

“I, um,” Peter stuttered, “I don’t come from a lot of money. My parents died when I was little, so I live with my aunt. My uncle died a few years back, and since then my aunt has been doing her best to keep us afloat. Until Mr. Stark,” Peter’s voice cracked, “gave me this internship, we didn’t have much. Pepper’s made sure we did okay, too, but, um, yeah. I’m rambling, yeah, but, uh, that’s why I said that.”

“You’re fine, Peter,” Cam said, smiling softly. He was such a sweetheart, she could barely stand it. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“Don’t be, I understand exactly where you’re coming from. I’ve been working at Stark for so long that people assume things about me, too, and I’d do the same thing.” Peter smiled back.

“You’re a pretty cool guy, Parker,” Cam said as a waiter came up to them. “This is gonna be a fun summer.”

buy me a coffee maybe? (i’m saving money for grad school!) | masterlist

tags: open!

@shutyourmoustache @dtftomholland @madmadmilk @starksparker @spiderboytotherescue @bensbuttercup @upsidedownparker @parkerpuffwrites @parkerpete @peterplanet @petersbackpack @heavenlyhollands @heavenly--osterfield @borhapparker @hollandroos @tomhollandeu @thewackywriter @musiclover1263 @sincerelymlg @paradoxparker @all-the-best-people-are-weird @printedpeterparker @starlightfound @its-obrosey-bitch @ohsweetcarol @trashqueenbitch @spidermanfarfromhome 

#peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fics #peter parker fanfics #peter parker fanfictions #peter parker x oc #peter parker x original character #endgame spoilers #avengers endgame spoilers #spiderman fic #spiderman #tom holland

[azaraspirit]

13, 16, 35, 36. You already know which otp. 😂 Sterek babyyyyy

SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! i hope you like it babe! basically its an FBI sterek au which is the only au that matters. 

13. i wont let anyone hurt you. you’re safe with me. 16. ive got you. 35. you make me feel safe. 36. you’ve shown me what love can feel like.

SHIT THIS GONNA GIVE YOU SO MANY FEELS. I HOPE YOU HAVE KLEENEX WITH YOU MIRANDA. STEREK ANGST IS A GO. there’s fluff too i guess lol @i-need-fangirl-therapy

*

It’s been about five years since the incident. The nightmares have almost subsided as well as the anxiety and constant fear. Turns out being a victim of a serial killer has some serious side effects with a dash of PTSD. Now the only reason why Stiles would have an episode is if he was triggered. 

At least Stiles had Derek. Stiles swore he would be dead by now if he wasn’t with him. No. He WOULD be dead. Scott is his best friend but it wasn’t enough. He needed something more and that something more was Derek. He proposed almost immediately after he rescued him from Peter who just nearly killed Stiles. Stiles didn’t hesitate. Stiles kept bringing up the details and the date but Derek was assuring him there was no rush. He knew Stiles was still recovering from the incident. Derek knew him like no one else. He looked fine on the outside but the inside was a different story. All that torture and pain changed Stiles forever. On top of that, they stripped Stiles of his FBI badge which made it even worse. Stiles loved being on the field but there was no way he could recover. 

Scott sighed. “Alright, Stiles, if you swear you think you can handle it, I’ll give you you’re badge back.” Stiles was in Scott’s office again, trying to pursue him to get him back on the field again. The pros of your boss being your best friend. 

Stiles rushed over and gave his friend a hug. Scott rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me regret this. I don’t want your fiance coming in my office and yelling at me.”

“I won’t! I promise! You won’t regret this!” Stiles excitedly rushed out of Scott’s office with his shiny new badge, skipping on the way. His coworkers looked at him as if he was crazy. Stiles headed for the arena, knowing he hasn’t picked up a gun since that night. 

“Where do you think you’re doing?” Stiles just reached the door when he heard Derek behind him. He spun around. 

“Gonna practice. Wanna join me?”

Derek walked up to him, dead serious. “You think that’s a good idea?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Derek, I’m fine. it’s been like five years. Besides, Scottie just approved of me to back on the field anyways so it doesn’t-”

“HE WHAT?”

“Derek!”

Derek did the one thing Scott didn’t want. He stormed right into his office. “YOU’RE LETTING STILES BACK ON THE FIELD??”

Scott nearly backed up, Derek, being absolutely terrifying. “So you heard.”

“Yeah! He just told me! You have no idea what he’s been through Scott! It’s too soon!”

“Derek, calm down.” Scott sat down at his desk. “I put a lot of thought into it and I think Stiles is ready.”

“You’re wrong.” Derek growled. “I know him best. Something will trigger him and his life will be on the line.”

“Derek-”

“If something happens to him, I’m going to take it out on you.” Derek stormed off, everyone going back to their business, pretending they didn’t hear him just now. 

“Hey, you’re back.” Stiles said, seeing Derek. “I knew you would.

Derek embraced him, Stiles being surprised but hugged back. Derek rested his head on Stiles’ shoulder. “If you’re going out on the field, I’m there every step of the way. I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’re always safe with me.”

Stiles smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now can we please go and practice? I’m dying.”

Derek was right next to Stiles as he prepped his pistol. “I got it, Derek. Jeeze. Can you stop hovering like a damn helicopter?”

Derek took a step back, holding out his hands. Stiles took a deep breathe and aimed at the target in front of him. He exhaled before pulling the trigger. 

Last thing Stiles remembered was hearing Derek call out his name. When he came to, he was on the floor, Derek beside him. He came into focus, seeing absolute fear and worry. “Stiles!”

“W-what happened?” Stiles murmured, tugging on Derek’s shirt.

“You shot the gun and fainted. You okay? You scared the shit out of me.” 

Stiles didn’t answer. He knew he fucked up. No way was he going out on the field. If a simple gun fire triggered him, he was stuck at a desk for life. Stiles choked back a sob and buried his head in Derek’s chest. Derek embraced him, whispering reassurance to Stiles. “I’ve got you, Stiles. I’ve got you.”

“I won’t be able to go back….I’ll be stuck at a desk…I hate it Derek…I wanna be with you on the field…” Stiles sobs broke Derek’s heart. He had to do something.

“You make me feel safe.” he murmured. “You show me what love can feel like. I won’t feel that being at a fucking desk alone.”

*

“Hey, is he okay?” Scott asked in a soft tone when Derek entered his office. Derek sighed. “He’s embarrassed more than anything.”

Scott sighed. “I’m sorry, Derek. This was all my fault. I thought he was ready.” He was expecting an I told you so from Derek but he apologized to. 

“I shouldn’t have went off on you like that. Totally unprofessional.”

Scott blinked in surprise. “It-it’s okay, Derek. I know how much you care about him.”

“Speaking of that, we need to talk.”

*

Stiles glared at the desk in front of him. Surely the word has spread about his episode. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, silently judging. He had a stack of files before him.

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

Stiles looked up to find Derek standing at the desk across from him. “Uh what?”

“I asked if this seat was taken?”

“Uh, no. But why are you-”

“I’m your new neighbor.” Derek took a seat at his new desk.

“Wait what?”

Derek chuckled. “I talked with Scott. I’m gonna be here with you now instead of out on the field.”

“What why? You love being on the field.”

“No, what I loved was working with you.” His reply made Stiles blush. “If this is what it will be like now than, I’m fully on board with it.”

“You-you serious?”

“Dead serious. I know how much you hate it here but I figured it would suck a little less if I was here with you.” Derek reached over and took Stiles’ hand, squeezing it. 

“D-Derek…you didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.”

Stiles stood up and rushed over to Derek. Sitting on his lap, framed his face and kissed him, right there in front of everyone. “God I fucking love you.”

[marauders70s]

Title: Flirting with the Enemy Pairing: Remus Lupin/Slytherin reader (idk if u do reader pairings but) Drabble: Marauders Era, maybe like a first kiss or something? it's up to you

eeeeek so i don’t write reader ones i don’t really get how? so i changed it to first person POV and gendered it female (sorry if i have assumed incorrectly). It also galls me to write first person with Marauders because I can’t “float” the camera to different POV

Title: Flirting with the EnemyPairing: Remus Lupin & POV Slytherin GirlSummary: “You can’t like her!” James exploded. “She’s the Slytherin keeper! She’s the enemy!”

It was stupid, really, to be a Slytherin who was bad at potions, but there I was. Professor Slughorn despaired of me; he only took a shine to those proficient in his class. James Potter and Sirius Black. Of course. Those two. Lily Evans, too, but only really because of Severus Snape. Slughorn’s star pupil. 

“Crush the petals,” moaned Zinnia in my ear. I glanced down, distressed. I had been staring again, and had forgotten to read carefully.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, as she shouldered me aside, stirring the cauldron with one hand, not willing to let me do anything lest I mess it up.

“Excellent, excellent,” I could hear Slughorn chortling over Potter’s cauldron. I narrowed my eyes in envy. Though we were both in quidditch, no one talked about me the way they talked about Potter. Honestly, no one talked about Potter, the way Potter talked about Potter. They even had little badges to sell and collecting cards of the players. I knew how many people had bought my card. Four. The girls in my dormitory, out of guilt. It had doubtless been Zinnia’s idea.

“Miss Greengrass,” said Professor Slughorn, coming over to frown at Zinnia’s one handed attempt to salvage my petal disaster. “Trouble, are we?”

“Oh…no,” Zinnia tried to smile, her face flushed and pink from the cauldron. “Doing just fine.”

“And Miss…” even after five years, Slughorn still had trouble remembering my name. It was absolutely humiliating the favoritism he showed.

“You’re not helping?” he finished, frowning avuncularly down at me as if I were a child. Or a moth. An unwelcome moth on the kitchen wall. 

“I was trying,” I mumbled, not wanting to sound like I was whining. “I’m just…not as good as Zinnia.”

“Then you had better practice,” tsked Slughorn. He beckoned the Gryffindor boys over. Their cauldrons were empty, evidently already bottled and tagged, needlessly in everyone’s opinion, as they had finished early and had scored perfectly. The only other couple to be done was Severus and Lily chatting in the back of the dungeon in soft voices. 

“Miss Greengrass and her friend,” wow, not even an attempt, “need to restart their potions,” said Slughorn, frowning mock-gently in our direction. “For the practice! Since you two have so evidently succeeded in your attempts, will you pair up with them and give it another go?”

“I can’t, Professor,” said Potter at once, and I was aware - as everyone was aware - of Lily Evans’s head snapping up. “I have quidditch practice after this. I’m vice-captain, so I’ve got to get there early to set up for drills.”

“The skipper,” hummed Slughorn delightedly. “Well, then, yes, hmm. I see. You are excused.” Potter didn’t need to be told twice, only summoned his bookbag and winked at his friend. 

“Mister Black will help Miss Greengrass, I think,” and I knew Zinnia was close to fainting. She had a massive crush on Sirius, with his gelled hair and his leather jacket on weekends, and his not-quite-uniform black boots under his trousers. He smiled at her politely, but I could see the gloss of failure in Zinnia’s dazzling beam in return. He didn’t like her, but she couldn’t see it. Something about pure blood prejudice in him. Or so everyone said. Strange, really, since he was a Black.

“And who will help…erm…” Slughorn waved his hand over my head as I brimmed with mortification. 

“I will,” said a voice, and if it was possible to blush over your internal organs, I certainly did so. 

“Ah, the perfect Prefect,” joked Slughorn. “Always willing to mentor. Thank you Mister Lupin.”

“Of course,” said Remus politely. He was tall; taller than Slughorn, and his growth spurt had come up rapidly between fourth year summer and fall term. It made a lot of girls start to look at him, including me, even if I wasn’t a prefect, or good at potions, or shared any of his interests.

“Thanks,” I said, furious at Slughorn, and yet oddly grateful for the demeaning repeat. I knew Zinnia wouldn’t complain at least, and that was something. She was already listening to Sirius read the directions out of his notes, with his messy, scrawling handwriting, long and looping. She was tapping the page, nodding as if she hadn’t been the one to carry us this far.

“It’s a really crummy thing of Professor Slughorn to make you repeat the potion,” Remus said as we gathered the materials anew. 

I looked up at him, askance. “Crummier to punish you by doing it twice.”

“Slughorn never liked me much,” said Remus.

“I can’t think why,” I said flatly, and a ghost of smile flitted around Remus’ mouth for a moment before he shrugged.

“Too poor, I guess.”

“That shouldn’t matter.”

“Shouldn’t,” he agreed. “Here, start stripping this bark.”

My hands were busy but my mind was blank. We had always been in classes together, but if I counted, aside from “Excuse me,” “Good morning,” and other vague polite phrases said moving around other people in a shared space, I couldn’t recall a single time talking to him one on one. I had looked enough -

“You know, I don’t think we’ve ever partnered up before,” said Remus, echoing my thoughts uncannily. 

“I’m usually with Zinnia.” Why did I say that? Now it sounded like I would never want to partner with anyone else.

“I’m usually with Peter,” Remus agreed. “Unless Slughorn makes us partner up by birthday or something.”

Why did teachers do that. They thought they were so clever, and all they caused was pain and awkwardness. I said as much to Remus, and he laughed.

“I think they’re trying to force us to mingle.”

“I hate mingling,” I said, savagely stripping the bark, and then looked up, eyes wide and scared. “Not that I -”

“I get what you mean. I hate small talk too. Here. You’ve done enough bark stripping. Dice the roots.”

I switched to chopping slowly and precisely, vowing to be careful on this potion, at least. Remus seemed to anticipate my problems, and was having me do all the preparation as he started the cauldron simmering. The simple foresight to keep me away from the actual adding and stirring was so thoughtful I wanted to cry in gratitude. I glanced surreptitiously at Remus’ usual partner, Peter Pettigrew, and understood.

“James says you’re the enemy,” and Remus surprised me with an impish smile. I was confused, and he laughed at the look on my face. “Because you’re the Slytherin keeper. Says you can’t be trusted lest I give away quidditch techniques or something.”

“Do you know any quidditch tactics?” I asked him, teasing him gently with the correction.

He only laughed over the steam and added my roots. “Obviously not.”

“What do you like to do?” My heart was hammering. This was stupid. I was mingling, asking dumb small talk questions he just said he hated. I should be witty and interesting and deep. But I was in Slytherin, not Ravenclaw, and had hardly left Leeds my whole life.

“Read, mostly,” said Remus. “And look in tea shops. And Honeydukes, of course.”

“Of course,” and I was eager to jump in. “My favorites are the lava fudge.”

“’Real boiling action!’”  he quoted. “I don’t always like that feeling in my stomach.”

I had that feeling in my stomach right now.

“We-we should get some,” I said nervously.

Remus was busy stirring the green potion counter-clockwise eighteen and a half times. “Yes,” he said, but I know he didn’t understand.

“We…we could go to Hogsmeade. Together,” I ventured.

The spoon slipped, and grey eyes came up from his concentration. “What?”

I managed to grab the spoon to keep stirring, counting under my breath as Slughorn passed by. There was a long, awkward silence.

“If you want,” I said. “I could go…go look at books with you. And I’ve never been to the tea shop. I always pass by. You could show me.”

This had to be the longest minute of my life. His grey eyes never blinked, like two luminous full moons staring at me.

“He’d love to,” said a loud, sarcastic voice from the next workbench over, and we both jumped. I turned to look, but needn’t have bothered. It was Sirius Black, grinning wickedly and winking at Remus.

“We’ll all go,” he said cheekily to Zinnia, who was so pink in the face she looked like a strawberry.

“Well then,” said Remus, smiling slightly and catching the spoon before it could complete the nineteenth rotation. “It’s a date.”

Send me a made up AO3 title and i’ll write you a drabble based off of it!

#drabbles #follower fun

[word-bug]

Of Dates And Misunderstandings

Happy Birthday Sarah ( @lifeinahole27 ) <3

Here’s a little something for you. I am so glad that this time I got something out for your birthday. And I didn’t forget to tag you. It should have been up at your midnight but I will assume there is still somewhere when it’s just the beginning of your birthday.

Special thanks to @ladyciaramiggles and @space-whales for beta reading. Thank you so much. <3

Of Dates & Misunderstandings (T-rated) AO3

Emma’s leg started jittering as she waited for her laptop to power on. She missed the comfort of her bed but with the wine she had already drank she was reluctant to get too relaxed, lest her mind wandered to less than innocent territories that she wasn’t ready for yet. She still believed that online dating sites were a farce, especially ones with the cliched names like - Happy Endings. But, drunk Emma made questionable decisions and signing up to an online dating site at Ruby’s prodding was one of them. She signed in and carefully made her visibility selective. She didn’t want the entire world to know she was online and having to fend off sleazy come-ons that would put her perps to shame.

No, Emma was interested in only one - therealkillianjones.

Emma was intimately aware of the nitty gritty of an online dating website, she had used them too many times to lure in her perps. Men were predictable that way. Act a little coy, laugh, or in this case, send a winky emoji on their crass pick up line and -boom- you had a date. She had fake profiles set up on many of these platforms but Ruby raved about the advantages of finding dates through them, gushing about the men and women she had met. So one day, Emma sat with her friend after sharing a bottle of wine between them and proceeded to set up her profile. Though drunk, they had  created  her profile including as much information as they could without revealing  too much. It was fun while it lasted. Together they had vetted potential suitors and fended off some sleazy ones - a nice way to blow off some steam. So, she was surprised to get a direct message from someone named therealkillianjones.

therealkillianjones - Oh My God! I love that quote and the book. It’s one of my favorites.

Emma was tempted to ignore it. Many people used celebrity names or a mixture of random words not wanting to give away their privacy. Emma respected that but Killian Jones was an actor that she really didn’t like. He wasn’t bad looking, on the contrary, the man was sex on legs, but he was overhyped, and Emma hated overhyped things. Every street corner had vendors selling magazines with his face plastered and what’s the saying - too much of a good thing is bad for you? Killian Jones was that good thing for her. It didn’t help that all the movies that he did were trashy flicks with a manic pixie girl as their protagonist. Emma hated those movies with a passion. So, hatred for Killian Jones was an acquired trait for her and it would take a lot for her to change her mind.

But for the first time, someone had actually gone through her profile, rather than just see her profile picture and send a pick up line. So she figured it couldn’t hurt to reply back and it wasn’t like her username, theswanprincess, was highly original. She figured, if the guy got too clingy, she could just shut the conversation down.

theswanprincess - Me too. The Princess Bride is my all time favorite. And the movie adaptation does it justice.

therealkillianjones - Aye. I agree. I am partial to the book, for obvious reasons. But the movie has a permanent place in my collection. I’m Killian by the way.

Emma scoffed, this guy was taking the charade way too seriously. She had been scrolling through his profile. He seemed nice on paper at least. All the fields of the profile were carefully filled with all the proper grammatical conventions. The profile picture was that of a pirate, she waited for it to download. When it became clearer she didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or cry. The picture was of Killian Jones, the actor, in the whole pirate regalia. She remembered seeing it on a magazine cover for his upcoming TV series or movie, she couldn’t remember. She was about to call him out on it when she saw the dots jumping, indicating he was typing.

therealkillianjones - Which house are you in? I was sorted into Gryffindor but in my heart I recognize myself as a Ravenclaw. My brother teases me that I am a Hufflepuff but he doesn’t realize that being sorted into Hufflepuff would be an honour, a fact the movies failed to capture.

All her thoughts to call him out on his choice of name and profile picture flew out the window as Emma launched into a full throttle response to his question .

theswanprincess -  I feel you. Some of my friends are the same. Though I was sorted into Hufflepuff and I wear the badge with the honour. Tough luck!

Emma bit her lip resisting her temptation to add a wink at the end. She didn’t want to come on too strong but she was enjoying the conversation and prayed that he wasn’t a douchebag or something worse.

therealkillianjones - Touche, Swan! Rubbing my face in it. So tell me about yourself.

Emma was startled to see him address her with her last name. She hadn’t made her name public so she started working herself up about it, when it struck her that he was calling her by her chosen username. He did tell her that his name was Killian but she wasn’t sure whether it was his real name or not, so she decided an alternate way to find out.

theswanprincess - If you’re gonna call me by Swan, what should I call you? ;)

This time she let the wink remain to maintain the playful tone of the conversation. If he read too much into it, then what was the harm? She was here, after all, to date.

therealkillianjones - As I said before love, Killian will do. ;)

**

Emma learned over the course of month that he was English but had moved to the States after the death of his parents when he was a teenager. Currently, he was in Ireland for some work and their conversations would be cut short due to the time difference. Emma loved the time when she was on a stakeout the entire night and he had no work the following day. They talked the entire night and she loved it. After a while,  she found herself constantly smiling. Ruby had nudged her for that very  reason but Emma had waved her teasing aside saying it was just nice days at work. Thankfully, Ruby had forgotten about the dating profile so all was smooth sailing.

She and her online date hadn’t gone beyond the medium of the website to communicate, but no topic other than the specifics about their professional life, remained untouched between them - from past troubles to lost loves, from emotional scars to physical injuries. They talked everything out, she found the anonymity of a dating website helped her open up. He didn’t press her for more, not even a photograph, the one she had used as her profile picture hid some part of her face so no one could outright recognize her. She never did call him out on his username choice, figuring that it could be his real name. It did have an English ring to it, too. So they remained in the bubble. She had almost forgotten about his actor namesake until she came across the trailer for his new show. It was a modern retelling of Peter Pan but with Captain Hook as the lead. The actor Killian Jones was playing it and he looked nice. She was just reeling in what she had seen when the message from her Killian popped up. She didn’t even notice her use of the possessive pronoun when thinking about him.

therealkillianjones - Hey Swan! How is it going there?

theswanprincess - The same old. Nothing exciting. I finally did see the trailer of this new show. I think so it’s called Neverlanders? Neveravengers?

therealkillianjones - The Neverland Rangers?

theswanprincess - Yeah... The show in which the actor you is acting.

therealkillianjones - Did you like it?

theswanprincess - Surprisingly, yeah.

therealkillianjones -  Surprisingly?

theswanprincess - Yeah… I mean I see this face on every newspaper stand and I am just so done. It’s just so obvious that the acting choices have been made to cash in on the dashing looks nothing else. I am really  glad that this time it was on content matter rather than just looks. I hate people like that, no offense.

therealkillianjones - None taken. Glad to know what you actually think. Swan…. They’re calling me. I’ll get back to you. I had to ask you something.

Emma looked at the clock, confused as to why he was leaving so early when she saw the time. It was almost two. It must be around seven in Ireland, she mentally calculated the time. She was about to close her laptop when another message popped up.

therealkillianjones - Goodbye love. xoxo.

Emma knew what it meant but she didn’t know what to make of it. They had spent the last month talking and never even once had they sent a parting greeting. That was surely crossing a line, right? It was too intimate. But they were on an online dating website so wasn’t that what was expected to come out of a conversation in the end? She went to bed thinking about it and sleep soon engulfed her and, for the first time, she dreamt about her Killian Jones.

The next day, she made conscious effort to not sign in wanting to distance herself and test the waters. She didn’t know what he wanted to ask her so her mind was conjuring weird scenarios. Would he ask her something personal? Or for a photograph? Did it matter? Weren’t they already more intimate than they could physically ever be? So what he could possibly ask her?

The following day proceeded the same way,albeit, Emma was calmer than before. A day away from him had helped her put things into perspective. She realized it didn’t matter what he asked of her. She knew if she said no he would take a step back immediately. He respected her and she him. Suddenly, she wanted to know him, wanted to have a face to go with his name and it didn’t scare her. So when she went back home, she switched on her laptop and logged in, certain a message would be waiting for her. She waited in anticipation but her excitement crashed down on her when there was none. Emma glanced at the time. It was five. Maybe he hadn’t logged in yesterday? So she waited for him. His last activity was in the morning so he had come online but she didn’t understand why he hadn’t sent a message. There hadn’t ever been a day when there wasn’t a message waiting for her. She sat there, browsing aimlessly on the net waiting for a message to come but it never did. She didn’t know when she had drifted off, waking in the morning to find her laptop’s  battery had died. She was tempted to switch it back on but decided against it.

When Emma returned home that night, she delayed going online for as long as she could but she knew it was inevitable, it was too much of a habit. She watched some random video and went to check her profile only when she was ready to sleep, not wanting to get excited about nothing. There was one unread message and Emma couldn’t manage to contain her excitement. She opened it but there sat a message from someone named wizardofoz.

wizardofoz - so ur a princess? Want me to use my wand and hv sm wicked ways with you?

Emma scowled seeing the message. It wasn’t from whom she was expecting and it was the worst written message she’d ever seen. She blocked wizardofoz when another message popped up.

therealkillianjones - I don’t know when you’ll get this as the connection is a bit problematic here. I am going back to New York tomorrow and I would really like to meet you. Here’s my number. I am sure I’ll be jetlagged so I won’t be able to message you straight away. Sorry for that. I’m hoping you would like to meet me, too, or we could stay as strangers. Though, I’d rather go forward than backward. Hope you’ll call.

And sure enough there was a New York number attached. If Emma let out a squeal seeing the number, no one would ever know. She really wanted to meet him. Emma glanced at the time. It was around eleven. Would he still be sleeping? She wanted to wait but she couldn’t contain her excitement. Double checking the number, she saved it and opened whatsapp to message him.

The contact list  updated and she let out a snort seeing his display picture. Yet again, it was that of the actor Killian Jones but it was only his face with his hook resting near his chin. She had to admit he was kind of cute but she was sure he wouldn’t hold a candle against her Killian. Emma bit her lip, smiling like a schoolgirl with crush, she typed a simple greeting.

“Hey… Swan here.” - E

Emma wasn’t expecting a response. Sure there were double ticks but there weren’t blue ticks so he probably hadn’t seen it and forgotten to switch off his net. She was about to switch to another conversation, when his status changed to online and blue ticks appeared. Before she could process what was happening, her phone started ringing.

“Hello...”

“Hey… love...” came his husky voice and Emma lost her breath for just a moment. He was really English, his accent heavy in his voice. Emma bit her lips but then realized, hitting her forehead against her phone, she was behaving like a teenager.

“Hey… love you there?” His voice came again and Emma realized she still hadn’t replied.

“So you’re really English, huh?” Emma mentally berated herself. Smooth Emma. Real Smooth.

He let out a booming laugh and Emma decided that she really liked his laugh.

“Aye... love. I told you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah… yeah you… did.”

“I can’t believe that we’re really talking.”

“Yeah me too.” She whispered. They remained quiet, words failing them in the moment. Emma didn’t know what to say. They knew each other so well but she didn’t know how to talk to him like this. Suddenly, he was real and not just some stranger on the net. She wanted to say something but he beat her to the punch.

“So… I was wondering… I mean... shit I’m not normally this bad with words. I don’t even know your first name….”

“It’s Emma.”

“Emma….” It seemed he was testing it and Emma really liked hearing it from his mouth.

“Emma… Emma Swan… It’s…. It’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you.” She whispered back and the silence returned. She wanted to see him. She wanted to meet him but she didn’t know how to broach the subject.

“Uh… Emma… Swan… I was wondering… would you like to go on a date with me? I mean… like not a date… but like would you like to… uh… meet me. I would love to put a complete face to your name.”

“I would too.” Emma answered. She wanted to know what he really looked like.

“Huh?”

“I mean… I would love to go out with you.”

“Ohh.. great. Tomorrow at 7 at the Eleven Madison Park?”

“Yeah… sure… text me the address.”

“Yeah… sure. Bloody hell. I can’t believe this is happening.” He laughed nervously. He was adorable.

“Can’t wait to meet you.”

“Aye… me too, love.”

**

Killian had texted her the address as soon as they said their farewell. Emma was excited to finally meet him and put a face to his name. Seeing his profile picture for so long, she had started imagining him as the actor Killian Jones and it unsettled her because this Killian was a real person and she didn’t want to give him someone else’s face. When she had looked up the address she was surprised to see the grandeur of restaurant. She started thinking of the dresses that would match the place. Emma really wanted to call Ruby, knowing her friend had dress for literally every occasion but this thing with Killian was so fragile and she really wanted to keep it to herself for the time being.

In the end she went shopping for a new dress. She had her eye on a black and bronze number for so long but couldn’t muster enough strength to buy it - because there was no one she wanted to wear it for and she really didn’t want to wear it for a fake date with a perp. The dress was too beautiful for that. It was a one shoulder dress with a black upper bodice and minimal embellishments. The lower portion of the dress was in complete contrast, it had a  flowing bronze skirt, finishing just above her knees with delicate embroidery that caught the light depending on the angle. Emma had paired it with black pumps that made her legs look shapely. She had gone with minimal makeup but had carefully curled her hair in perfect ringlets that weren’t too tight and flowed freely. She had forgone jewellery save for a set of diamond drop earrings that she had bought on her last birthday. She looked and felt beautiful.

When she reached the restaurant, she was, yet again, taken with the beauty of the place. It was elegantly lit with artificial candles that looked like diamonds floating in the sky.

When she reached the reception, she was guided to a more private dining area. It was intimate, with tables kept far away to offer privacy to the patrons, quite a contrast to the outer seating area of the restaurant. It was currently empty and she was glad there wasn’t anyone to witness their first meeting. She saw the fire crackling in the fireplace and got lost in the movements of the flame when she heard her someone speak.

“You’re way more beautiful in person.”

Emma turned around startled at his sudden entry.

“Fuck… you scared me….” her hand went to her chest trying to calm her breathing. She looked up but her eyes widened as she saw him. “Holy shit you’re Killian Jones.” The face that had haunted her for the last week was standing in front of her and she didn’t know what to make of it. He just looked confused as if she was being absurd.

“Yeah… and you’re Emma Swan. Are you okay, love?”

“Are you… are you insane? You’re Killian Jones. THE freaking Killian Jones. Star of Neverengers.”

“Neverland Rangers.”

“Yeah… The same. I am sorry. I think the maitre’d misdirected me. I was about to meet someone who, oddly, is also called Killian Jones. I think they mixed it up. I’ll just leave.” As she started walking, he came behind her catching her arm.

“They didn’t mix it up Swan. You’re here to meet Killian Jones. And I am Killian Jones.”

“You’re not my Killian.” Emma spoke exasperated that the actor couldn’t see reason. Was he just a pretty face? How could he be so dumb?

“Your Killian…” His eyebrows waggled hearing her call him that.

“Yeah… Now if you would please…”

“Swan… Wait...” he took her hand again, “I really am your Killian. You’ve seen my picture on my profile.”

“No I saw your picture...” she spoke pointing at him, it was getting exhausting, she really had to leave lest her Killian believed she had ditched him, “on my Killian’s profile who is a fan of yours.”

“What are you talking about? That was me. Why would anyone use someone else’s picture on a dating website? That’s insane.”

“Yeah exactly… This is insane. I am leaving.” For the third time that night, she was stopped from leaving.

“Swan… would you just wait? Who did you think I was? You really had no idea that it was me?”

“I mean… yeah obviously I had no idea. I mean why would you need a online dating profile? This just doesn’t make sense.”

“You love cinnamon on hot chocolate. It always warms you up and makes you feel secure and happy. ‘Your Killian’ has a ship named Jolly Roger that he wanted to take and sail towards the horizon. ‘Killian Jones the actor’ aka me should make better career choices and not rely on my good looks. Though, I was flattered to know that you find me dashing.”

“Yeah… well I’m not blind,” but Emma realised she was getting carried away. She also realized that she had criticized his career choices to his face.

“Shit… I called your career choices rubbish.” Emma covered her mouth in horror and Killian guffawed seeing her like that. She threw a venomous look towards him but that didn’t perturb him.

“Yeah… admittedly that was a little strange but then you said things I felt myself so I let it slide. Love… no one finds my career choices more rubbish than myself. But I needed to find my footing in the industry before taking riskier projects.” His voice then took a softer note, “you really didn’t know it was me? I thought you knew.”

“I swear I didn’t know it was you. I thought you were a fan and then you started talking about books and it was long forgotten. And why on earth would you need a online dating profile?” Emma asked wondering what he was doing on the portal in the first place.

“Too much drinking leads to questionable things in life. And the sort of anonymity that it provides… I don’t find that much in real life. Why do you have a dating profile? I can’t believe a lady like you needs to resort to these means.” Emma blushed under his appreciating gaze and Killian smirked seeing his effect on her. They were standing closer than before and he could smell her perfume and it was the sweetest thing.

“Well… When you go on too many fake dates to apprehend people who skip their bail, your dating pool gets kind of shallow.”

“So you’re a bail bonds person? That’s hot, no offense.” Killian spoke making Emma smirk. They slipped into silence, neither knowing what to do. Now that Killian knew she had no idea it was him who she was talking to, he couldn’t help wonder whether she wanted to go out with him or not. When they had started talking he had been happy because he had been connecting with a person who knew who he was but had chosen to talk to him for who he really was. But now things were different and he didn’t know what to do with the information.

“Uhh… well you’re welcome to join me for dinner. I mean you were expecting someone else and I mean I will understand if you want to go home,” he spoke hurriedly.

It took sometime for his words to register with Emma and she was touched that he was giving her the option to back out . She hadn’t imagined that she would be meeting a celebrity with the intention of going on a date with him. If she was to date him, her life wouldn’t remain the same. But she had been his friend for more than a month and it had been amazing. If he had been just Killian, she would have jumped on the chance to date him. Did it change if he wasn’t just Killian rather The Killian Jones? There was only one way to find out.

“Yeah… let’s have dinner,” she said, a grin covering her face and the smile she got in return rivalled the sun.

**

In the end, she didn’t just decide to stay for the date,  she also kissed him and went on a second date with him. He had joked during the dinner that she should help him in vetting new scripts and few weeks later, she was doing just that, in his shirt, on his bed with him bringing her her hot chocolate and spooning her as they read one of the scenes together.

Happy Birthday Once Again, Love! Have a long and happy life <3

#cs ff #cs fic #Captain Swan #Emma Swan #Killian Jones #Of Dates and Misunderstandings #Vaish Writes #Happy Birthday Sarah #Finally Have Something #For you

[edelwoodsouls]

Over the Rainbow

I saw Spider-Man: Homecoming on Thursday and this fic idea hasn’t let me go since. It’ll probably become a series/multi-chapter later on. Please comment, I’d love to know what you think!

Tags: Trans Peter Parker, Bisexual Peter Parker, Panromantic Michelle Jones, Gay Ned Leeds, Bisexual May Parker, Pride, Everyone is LGBTQ+ okay, Pre-relationship,

Word Count: 2139

Also on Ao3

"I'm really sorry, dude."

Peter can feel his heart sinking already; he knows exactly what Ned is about to say.

"My mom forgot to tell me we're going to see my gran today," Ned continues, "and I can't get out of it."

Peter swallows before he can say what's on his mind. They both know that the last minute nature of this trip is entirely planned on Ned's mom's part, but neither of them can bring themselves to voice it.

"I'm so sorry, Peter. I really wanted to be there."

"It's fine, Ned," Peter manages, pressing the phone hard to his ear as he swings down from his bed. "I'll take loads of pictures for you."

"Be careful out there."

"I will."

The call ends, and Peter only just resists the urge to throw his phone at something.

He's been looking forward to New York Pride for months, ever since he came out to Aunt May last year. Until then he'd been too afraid of being caught there, of being outed before he was ready.

Last year seems like decades ago; so much has changed since then.

His outfit sits inocuously on his desk chair - a pink, white and blue striped t-shirt and black shorts; cans of pink, blue and purple hairspray - with Ned's rainbow shirt hanging behind it. Suddenly the clothes seem less appealing than before.

He could just not go. That might be easier than going alone. Besides, he wouldn't have to deal with the crowds and overwhelming loud noises, which make his ears ache and the world seem to close in on him, ever since the spider bite. Really, going to pride doesn't make much sense in his situation.

Except the parade passes right by his apartment. He remembers how painful it was to watch the rainbow flags and cheering people, so close yet so inaccessible to him, year after year. He wants to be out there, with people who understand him, not set back right where he was before. And he did say he was going to get pictures for Ned - his best friend will be able to tell if he took them from his own window rather than ground level.

"Peter?" Aunt May's voice startles him, and he realises he's been staring morosely out of the window for a good five minutes. "I thought you and Ned were planning to leave early. Won't you miss the beginning of the parade?"

He turns to look at his aunt, so open and smiling, brow furrowed with worry for him which only increases when she sees what he imagines is his crestfallen expression. She's been nothing but supportive since he came out - saving up for hormones, researching and buying the safest binders - and he can't believe he was ever scared to hide himself from her.

Before he realises it, he's crying.

Aunt May is across the room in seconds, wrapping him in a hug as he sinks onto his bed. "Hey," she soothes, "it's okay, Peter. What's wrong?"

"Ned- he, uh," Peter feels anger well up inside himself, whether at Ned's mom for all the homophobic shit she puts Neds through, or himself for crying, he can't tell. "He can't come to pride. We were- we were to do this together."

Aunt May's arms tighten around him. "Is it his mom?" She takes his silence has confirmation. "You know, I've always thought that woman needed a good slap back to reality. I've got half a mind to go over there right now and-"

"No," Peter interrupts immediately, then winces at the force in his voice. He extricates himself from the hug, wiping away his tears in frustration. "Sorry. It's just, uh, getting involved isn't the best idea. The only reason they haven't fought about it is because they've never acknowledge it, like, verbally. Confronting her about it would only make it worse for Ned."

"Well," she sounds unsure, placing a comforting hand on Peter's shoulder, "he's always welcome here. I don't think it's healthy for him to live in that sort of environment."

Peter nods shakily. Before he came out to his aunt, he and Ned would fantasise about running away together, somewhere where no one knew them. Somewhere where Ned could kiss a guy and people would walk on by because it was nothing out of the ordinary. Somewhere where no one remembered Peyton Parker. Peter always liked the idea of moving to the Gay Kingdom of the Coral Sea, but the idea of spiders the size of his face freaked him out too much.

Oh, the irony.

"So why aren't you ready?"

"Huh?" Peter blinks, looking at his aunt like she's grown a second head.

She stands up and grabs one of the cans of hairspray, shaking it vigorously. "How much of this stuff do you need?"

An hour later his hair is an impressive mix of colour, and there's glitter everywhere. Literally everywhere. In his hair, stuck in stripes to his cheeks, all over his hands and arms. Aunt May has sprayed her hair too, painted her nails, and dug out a tie-dye sun dress from years ago.

He's just about ready to go when she shoves a large rainbow flag into his hands. "I bought you this yesterday, and forgot to give it to you."

Peter's eyes widen, and he throws his arms around her. "Thank you so much aunt May. I love you."

She grins widely, taking him in as they stand by the doorway. "Your parents would be so proud of you, y'know." She says it quietly, smile flickering, and Peter can feel his cheeks heat in a mix of pride and overwhelming sadness.

Aunt May shakes her head as if to clear it, smile back full force. "Let's go, or we'll miss it."

It's three in the afternoon before Peter gets another chance to breathe. He and Aunt May end up catching the parade half-way through its route, cheering on floats of rainbows and glitter explosions, flowers and flags, and a few appearances of the Babadook, which takes him a good ten minutes to explain to his aunt. After that they're quickly caught up in an impromptu dance party in the park, then taking photos with and for groups of strangers who smile and wave and joke like they've known them their whole lives.

Peter has never felt more comfortable in his own skin. Every time he sees a trans flag his heart feels a hundred times lighter, and he goes out of his way to high five the people carrying them. It's probably a hundred degrees outside, too hot for anyone to reasonably be doing anything, yet he feels as if he could run a marathon or fight off an army. He sees a guy dressed in nothing but his binder and shorts and wishes he had the confidence to do that too; maybe one day soon, he thinks.

They stop to get sandwiches, and lay out the rainbow flag to sit on. His chest is aching and he knows he should probably take the binder off soon, but he doesn't ever want to leave the park. If only every day could be this open, this happy - he's pretty sure he hasn't stopped grinning since the morning started.

"Hey, Aunt May, I'm gonna go get a badge. There's a stall just over there."

She sits up, blinking the sun out of her eyes. "Okay - get me a bi one?"

Peter blinks at her as she laughs at his vaguely stunned expression. After a moment he echoes her wide grin with one of his own, jumping up from the grass. "Sure thing, aunt May!"

He can still hear her laughter as he runs.

There are a few people crowded around the stall, picking out badges of all sorts. There are ones for every flag he can think of, ones for preferred pronouns, and various pop culture ones. He slows down to a walk, trying to decide which badges he should go for, when he hears one of the people behind the table talking.

"Sign our petition for permanent gay and trans pride crosswalks in New York? It's a show of solidarity from the city which will not only support the LGBTQ+ community, but also really piss off the homophobes."

The crowd of people part slightly, and Peter does a double take, because there's Michelle, hair as wild as usual but dyed in rainbow colours, wearing an oversized t-shirt with a pink, yellow and blue heart on the front - it's weird to see her wearing actual colour for once - her face open and earnest as she shakes a petition clipboard at someone.

The person in front of her takes her proffered pen, and Michelle looks up smugly, her eyes catching his and widening in surprise. "Peter?"

He feels almost - vulnerable as he watches her eyes take in the colours of his t-shirt and hair, but walks closer despite his heart thundering at a hundred miles per hour. In the last few months he's come to consider her a friend, and since she only came to their school in sophomore year she never knew him when he was still in the closet.

His fear is quickly assuaged as she smiles at him - a genuine, unironic smile which he doesn't think he's ever seen on her; it softens the hard, confrontational edge she usually exudes.

"What can I get you?" she shakes a jar of badges.

"Could I get a male pronoun one? And two bi?"

She rattles the jar around, fingers digging through them to find the badges he's requested, and he takes the time to look through the ones already displayed on the table.

His eyes are drawn to a set of rainbow flag badges, each with a different Avenger on them, and he can't help but smile.

Michelle clears her throat and presses four badges into his hand with a knowing smirk and a raised eyebrow. He looks down: she's given him an extra one, rainbow with Spider-Man's mask on it.

His eyes widen, and he stares at her, blood rushing to his cheeks. "Wha-"

"Hey, Andy, can you cover for me?" Michelle hands the jar of badges to the guy next to her as Peter drags her behind the stall.

"How long have you known?"

"Seriously, Peter?" she rolls her eyes, entire body exuding sarcasm once again. "You're hardly subtle. You're constantly disappearing. You 'know' Spider-Man. Spider-Man vanished when you lost the Stark internship - I mean, the entire world knows that Tony Stark is Iron Man, the head of the Avengers. You finally get the date you wanted, only to bail, and your girlfriend's dad gets arrested courtesy of Spider-Man that same night?"

"Okay, but-"

"Plus you and Ned talk really loudly. Like, seriously, anyone at that party could've heard you."

"You've known since the party?" he splutters.

"I was right behind you buttering toast, dude. Just be glad it was me, not Flash, or everyone would've known."

He feels like he should be more freaked out about this turn of events, but instead he finds himself only vaguely resigned about it, and more relieved that he doesn't have to lie to her, especially since they've been hanging out more recently. He should've guessed that she knew, really, considering how observant she is.

"So are you gonna take the badge?"

"Huh?" He looks down at the badge, feeling a strange warmth at the sight of it. "I didn't know Spider-Man is an LGBT icon."

"Anyone can be an LGBT icon unless explicitly stated otherwise. Who better to look up to than the superheroes who keep us safe?"

"That's... a really inspiring way of looking at things."

"Why thank you."

They stand for a moment in silence and, for once, Peter doesn't feel the need to fill it with noise. It's comfortable; safe.

"So where's your usual partner in crime?"

"Ned? He, uh- he's still kinda in the closet with his mom."

"Oh. That sucks."

"Yeah."

For a moment Michelle looks uneasy, like she's trying to decide whether or not to say something.

"My shift ends in half an hour," she says eventually.

"I'll be there. We can get ice-cream - or something?" Now Peter feels unsure; he's never been sure when it comes to girls in any respect.

"Awesome." She sounds as relieved as he feels. "I'll see you then."

As she's slipping back into the tent, Peter calls out to her. "Hey, MJ - uh, me and Ned are doing a Sense 8 marathon this evening, if you want to come?"

Her face splits into a smile. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Peter spends the next half an hour grinning, butterflies in his stomach that he can't quite understand, and though he can feel Aunt May's amused, suspicious gaze on him, he feels higher than the clouds.

#peter parker #trans peter parker #spider-man: homecoming #michelle jones #fanfiction #bisexual peter parker #panromantic michelle jones #ned leeds #gay ned leeds #aunt may #may parker #bisexual aunt may #bisexual may parker #pride #everyone is lgbtq+ okay #own work

[3rdgymbros]

Me Against You

PART 1, PART 2 

A/N: I turned 18 today, on the 10th of April, and as a birthday treat, here’s an extra long chapter!! I wanted a date with Tom Holland for my birthday present, but needless to say, I did not get what I wanted. Someone please tell me that he’d love me as much as I loved him if we ever met in this lifetime. 

Warning: Angst, mentions of torture.

Everything happens quickly.

One moment you’re staring up at a wide expanse of blue sky, watching the jet disappear; the next, you’re surrounded by a group of soldiers rushing onto the scene in combat fatigues, pointing their guns at you.

Realization sends you backpedalling, but you run into something solid. You turn, already swinging, and nail one in the chin. He stumbles to the side and would have given you a clear shot to your friends, but three other soldiers take his place.

Before you realize what’s happening, a metal collar is snapped around your neck, sharp electrical pulses shooting through you. Suddenly, you can’t move, can barely breathe. Panic fills you, joining the adrenaline rushing through your veins, and your body isn’t sure how to react. Keep fighting, or shut down.

“W-What are they doing?” You hear Peter ask. You can’t see him, but he sounds scared. Panicked. “That’s a collar. Mr Stark, you said they were only going to talk to her!”

“Stop it,” Agent Barton snaps. “That’s a child, not an animal, get that thing off!”

Keep fighting. Definitely keep fighting. The idea of sending your SAT scores to Attica instead of Cambridge is not appealing. You unleash it all with a scream. A plane explodes in a ball of fire, shaking the ground beneath your feet. Screams of terror fill your ears. The shock wave hits everyone within a hundred foot radius, knocking them backwards. You hit the ground hard, and a wave of pain sweeps over you.

“Run!” You try to shout, but only gurgles escape.

And then that familiar voice says your name, taut with pain.

“(Y/n).”

It’s him.

“(Y/n),” Peter tries again.

You slowly lift your head up to stare at him.

He’d known what would happen. He’d done this. He’d betrayed you.

Peter’s scrambled to his feet now, hands outstretched, almost as if he wants to touch you, but can’t quite bring himself to.

With a feral scream, you launch yourself at him. You and Peter slam onto the ground, hard. Volts of electricity shoot through you, sharp and hot and carnivorous. You open your mouth to scream. Peter takes the opportunity to shove you off of him, shooting webs to pin your hands and feet to the ground.

“(Y/n),” Peter manages. He sounds closes to tears now, his tone as tormented as his expression. “(Y/n), please, I’m your friend.”

You stare at him, your eye wild and feral-looking, your breath coming quicker and quicker from your parted lips. The pain is crashing over you in waves, the shocks making your muscles twitch and seize painfully, but you manage to raise your head, glaring at Peter with such soul-deep hatred that the blood turns to ice in his veins.

“We were never friends!” Your screams come one after another, scraping along your raw throat without pause. “I have always HATED you!”

For the third time that day, Peter recoils. He goes incredibly still, so still that you notice how his hands are trembling. He’s wearing a mask, but you know that his face is contorted in misery. There’s a quiet whoosh of air, followed by the sharp stab of pain in your arm. You can only stare at the small darts in your shoulder before blackness pulls you under.

“– How is she?” A male is saying. You recognize his voice. It makes you angry. Angry enough to force you out of your deep sleep, the only thing protecting you from feeling the pain in your body.

You blink, looking through eyes glassy from the strain they’ve endured. Tony Stark peers in through the glass window, looking at you as though you are a particularly interesting specimen under a microscope. Dark half-moons ring his eyes, and his arm is in a sling. You can’t find it in you to feel sympathetic for his injuries.

The anger magnifies, giving you strength. Strapped to the cot with metal shackles, you fight for freedom. Snarling like the very animal you might be becoming, you twist and buck, half-crazed eyes staring at him, wishing that you could do so much more than try to kill him with your eyes. All you receive for your trouble is another jolt of electricity. The bed shakes with the force of your shudders, the pain acute, gut-wrenching and soul-zapping. They’re going to kill you. How could they not? After a while, even your skin begins to vibrate and it doesn’t stop when the electricity does. Your bones feel brittle, as if they’re going to break at any second. Your lungs have to be filled with glass rather than air. Every breath is agony.

Tony Stark only looks at you again once your screams have stopped. His head droops. With shame? “The Spiderling wants to see you. You hurt him pretty bad.”

“Good,” You snarl, surprised at the sound of your voice. You’ve shouted, but only a whisper can be heard. “Tell him I hate him and that I lied.”

Tony Stark closes his eyes, releasing a heavy breath. “He was doing the right thing.”

You raise your head to stare at him, eyes narrowed to angry slits. “No. He was doing what you asked him to.”

Tony Stark’s mouth opens and closes, and you know he’s searching for a response. When he finds none, he turned on his heel and marches out of the room.

“Good riddance,” Clint mutters.

Scott’s the first to recover, a curious edge to his voice. “What exactly did you lie about?”

You let your head droop back onto the pillow. “Having a good time,” You dead-pan, your eyes flickering up to the ceiling. “We went out a lot.”

Scott’s the first to snort in amusement. Slowly, the others join in, Clint and Sam snickering right along with him. It’s even enough to rouse a weak and rusty-sounding laugh out of Wanda, who’s been silent for the whole week that you’ve been stuck here.

It feels good to laugh. Even for only a moment.

You wake with wet cheeks, and a warm, calloused hand tapping at your face. You hope this doesn’t mean that the doctors are back to draw more of your blood; but the doctors at the Raft would never be that gentle with you.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n), can you hear me?” The voice is pained, and you think you hear a muttered curse of, “Damn it, Tony.”

The pain is a constant throb in your head and limbs, you shouldn’t move; it will only make everything worse. Wincing, you crane your head up to see who has called your name. Blinking several times, you focus as hard as you can on the only face you can see. It is contorted with anger. His eyes are the palest blue you’ve ever seen, and remind you of clear summer skies and languorous lagoons. He’s not in the red and blue uniform, but in a plain grey hoodie, a white shirt and a pair of jeans. But you would recognize that face anywhere.

“Captain,” You croak weakly. “How was Russia?”

“Cold,” He answers wryly. “I prefer a warmer climate.”

He kneels, you hear the tinkle of metal being ripped apart, and your hands and legs are free. It’s difficult to move; fatigue has added weight to each of your limbs and your eyelids feel as if they’ve been replaced with sandpaper. Captain America helps you sit up, draping his hoodie over your shoulders.

“The collar now. Okay?” He offers you a calm and steady smile, his eyes warm and kind. “One, two –”

Quick as a flash, he grasps at the collar around your neck. Your fingers dig into your palms, gouging crescent shaped marks into soft flesh. Bracing yourself for an electric shock, you nod tersely, and he breaks it apart with his bare hands. You exhale in relief, smiling faintly and wanly at him.

“We’re getting out of here, (Y/n),” Captain America says, smoothing back soaked and matted hair away from your forehead. “Everyone’s waiting in the jet.”

You’re unable to support your own weight; he has to half-carry, half-drag you for several paces at your insistence that you can walk. When what little strength you have drains out of you, you crumple into a heap on the floor. He gives up the charade of allowing you to walk on your own and unceremoniously lifts you up off the floor and into his arms, as if you weigh nothing more than a feather. Your head lolls against his chest as he carries you out of your cell. An alarm erupts, screeching through the empty room.

“I was mean to him,” You confess groggily, your voice strained. “Very, very mean.”

“Him. That kid with the webs?” Captain America bends down, and rips a badge off the neck of an unconscious guard. “The one from Queens?”

“He’s called Peter Parker,” You confirm, tears springing into your eyes. “He’s got the warmest brown eyes, and the nicest brown hair. He’s funny, he’s smart, he’s nice. He always got picked on by Flash Thompson, but Peter never let Flash bully me. He’s – well, was – my best friend.”

“I’m sorry,” Captain America apologises, the pain naked in his voice. “I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in this. Tony shouldn’t have –”

You close your eyes on a pained sigh. “Tony Stark is responsible for many things. But he didn’t make me shove Peter out a window, or into a concrete wall. I did those. Me. I’m a horrible person.”

Captain America uses the badge to open the door to the hallway. The two of you enter a long, narrow, passage that you’re relieved to find is empty. Maybe he’s disabled all the guards already. You can only hope. You’re tired of fighting, of having to use your powers. All you want to do is curl up in a ball and fall asleep.

“Believe me, I’ve seen a lot of horrible people. You’re not one of them.”

It doesn’t make you feel any better. You close your eyes against the pounding in your head. “I said I hated him. I hurt him, really bad. Peter hates me now.” And I don’t blame him.

Down the hall. Around a corner. Another hall, another corner. In the stairwell, your breathing and footsteps echo off the walls. But these are the only sounds. No one is following the two of you. Others will be here soon, though. You’re certain the alarm’s already been reported to Ross, wherever that monster is.

A pained groan slips past your lips as Captain America carries you up, up the steps. As fatigued as you are, as undernourished, as wounded, your trembling seems to magnify with every new inch of ground the two of you gain. He opens the door to the landing pad, and you see the jet you’d helped to hijack sitting right in the middle of it.

It’s dark outside. Frigid air envelopes you, worse because you’re in thin prison clothes, with only a hoodie draped over your skinny frame. The cold sea breeze whips hair around your face, and, you think, slices at your skin. You huddle closer to Captain America, exhaustion glazing your moon-soaked features.

“Hold on,” Captain America says pleadingly, and you hear the worry in his voice as he practically sprints for the jet. “There’s a first aid kit in the jet. You’re going to be fine.”

Sam yanks the door closed as soon as the two of you are on the jet, strapped in and ready to go. Without a hitch, you’re shooting across the dark sky. Bucky turns, sympathy written in his eyes. He’s been through some horrible things, too. Wanda is curled up by Clint’s side, her face gaunt and her eyes closed. Scott’s already asleep, snoring like a jackhammer in the seat by the window.

“What if he hates me?” A sob escapes you, a testament to the still-fraying rope holding back your emotions. It won’t last much longer now. “Peter hates me, I hate me, I’m –”

“(Y/n), do you want to know what I think?” Captain America asks kindly, kneeling down to look into your red-rimmed eyes, brimming with tears. He clasps your hands in his. It feels as though you’re holding the full blazing sun in your small palms, his so hot and yours so cold. “I have heard nothing but positives about Peter Parker. If this guy is as good a person as you seem to think he is, then I’m willing to bet he’ll forgive you when you apologize.”

Your chin trembles, a fresh round of tears threatening to fall. You lean forwards, pressing your face into his shoulder, and there is a sudden, hollow silence.

#peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spider man #marvel imagine #peter parker imagine #( my crush on tom holland has not abated in the least ) #*sobs uncontrollably* #( i just ) #( love my husband so much ) #( but he doesn't even know I EXIST ) #ＰＡＩＮＴ Ａ ＰＩＣＴＵＲＥ ＦＯＲ ＭＥ | my reader inserts