A Day In Paradise -
T. H. *Smut*
Summary: You and Tom are on vacation when he notices how needy you are.
Note: who next? Smut or fluff?
Warnings: dirty talk, praise, touching, smut, counter fucking
The sun had been beaming down on your skin for what felt like hours. The pleasant burn would later leave your skin sun-kissed, you knew that, but the sun isn't who you wanted to be kissing you right now.
Every since you woke up 2 hours ago, you had a specific yearning for Tom. He sun was shining in through the windows and shimmered on his beautiful body, the way the shadow of his abs casted and his v-line emphasized. Everything about it drove you through the roof.
"Love, you've been sitting there for 15 minutes. You're gonna get burnt." Tom spoke, chuckling a bit as he patted your thigh. You wanted his fingers elsewhere.
You didn't know how to tell him you wished he was balls deep inside you making you scream his name for the entire world to hear.
But you could show him.
Tom had already walked away to the kitchen. He was finishing up his eggs as you got up and walked over.
"Hey baby," you said slowly, voice a little sultry. He turned clueless, giving you a smile before turning back to the stove.
You walked behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, something normally he did to you. He hummed, but said and expected nothing. You peppered kisses on his back, raking your hands all over his stomach and chest. Tom immediately knew something was up seeing as you're usually not this touchy.
"What's up, love?" Tom spoke up with a small chuckle, feeling a bit of tingle in his lower region from your touchiness.
"Mmm nothing," you smirked, kissing more. You started kissing his neck and he turned around, grabbing your face before pushing you against the counter and slamming his lips against yours. You didn't expect him to comply so quickly.
You hummed against his lips and wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs going around his hips. Tom smirked and grabbed your ass with both hands, making you pull away and gasp.
"Thomas!" You giggled as he smirked.
"You clearly want to be fucked, darling." He hums, "All you have to do is ask."
"I'll keep that in mind." You say, smirking as Tom picks you up and places you on the bare counter, biting and kissing at the sweet spot on your neck. You let out a small moan at this, tangling your fingers in his chocolate brown locks.
You were only wearing a white silk robe, which made it easy for Tom to grab what he wanted. His hands eased their way down to your breasts, groping you without shame as his kiss roughed your lips.
"Tom," you moaned out.
"God, you sound so good," he mumbles, dropping to his knees.
"What are you doing-"
"Shhh," he hushed, "Just let me make you feel good, darling."
Tom didn't give you a moment to respond as he forced your legs open, nothing but your dripping cunt waiting for him. You blushed, but he had a wanting gleam in his eye. It was hunger.
"I did this?" He chuckled lowly, "...dirty girl."
You just wanted to moan at his words. Everything he was doing was driving you insane and you loved it. Tom loved the effect that he had on you and your body whether you knew it or not. Just a touch and you withered in his hands.
Tom's hands roughly gripped your thighs, lifting them onto his shoulders as he leaned in closer and closer to your dripping cunt. You moaned softly, screwing your eyes shut as you felt lick after lick of Tom's tongue violate your folds.
You gasped at this, roughing tugging on his hair between your legs. He moaned at this, making it feel even better. He had his hands gripping your thighs roughly, sparing you nothing as he attached his lips to your clit.
"T-Tom.." you moaned out, throwing your head back. Your eyes were screwed shut, the overwhelming pleasure taking ahold of you.
"Scream my name, love. I wanna hear you."
Right on cue, Tom slammed two long finger deep into your cunt, making your toes curl as you screamed out. He knew exactly what he was doing and how to do it, which turned you on so much.
"Oh my love, you sound like a God send. I want to hear more." He chuckled, curling his fingers inside you. You stood no chance, screaming his name once more.
"You dirty girl."
"Scream my name."
"Does it feel good, princess? Having my long fingers fuck you like this?"
"Such a little slut."
"That's right, take it. You're so good for me."
His words got the best of you, he knew dirty talk was your weakness and you couldn't handle it. Your body tensed as your high rolled over your body, making you see stars as your vision becomes spotty. You winced as Tom pulled his fingers out of your dripping cunt.
"That was entirely way too sexy," he smirked.
"Tom..." you started, but couldn't finish.
"I can't wait to be inside your pretty little pussy, darling. Always so tight for me."
He stood up and dropped his shorts, already revealing his thick length. To you, Tom was the perfect size, not too small but not too big. But, he was thick, and always stretched you so good.
He pulled you up and pushed your body against his, which made his length rub against your core. You whimpered and winced, tipping your head back with your hands on his shoulders. Tom loved to watch your face, it got him even harder and he wasn't even in you yet.
He looked down then back at you, biting his lip.
"Please," you spoke softly, pleading with your eyes. Tom nodded and braced your waist, rubbing you more.
"Please, Tom, I need you." You whimpered, groaning softly. Tom smirked, kissing you deeply before slamming his hard cock inside you.
"Ah!" You called out, screwing your eyes shut as he bottomed out inside you. Feeling as all of him filled you up was almost enough to near you to another climax.
"Fuck..." he dragged out, feeling you clench tightly around him.
"T-Tom." You begged, aching for more friction. Tom complied and started finding a steady rhythm, thrusting inside you aching slow in order to find it.
Once he found it, he was quick to start pounding you. You breasts bounced infront of him as your body shook from his roughness, you didn't stop moaning.
"This pussy is mine." Tom spoke breathlessly, grunting deep and good and he fucks you.
"O-Only yours!" You nearly scream, holding on tight to Tom. His grunts and groans sent a shiver down your spine and you couldn't help but to clench around him.
"Do that again." Tom demanded, digging his fingers into your hips.
You did as he said and clenched your walls around him, bringing him closer and closer to his high. He let out a surprisingly loud groan and you were on the blink of your orgasm.
In the blink of an eye, Tom pulled out, leaving you to squirt all over his dick as his seed leaked from his pink tip. Your cheeks heated up as you hid your face, embarrassed that you just squirted.
"Holy shit- did you just-"
28 notes · View notes
Peter Parker x fem!reader
Summary: Y/N is trapped in her mind and Peter is the one to pull her out.
A/N: So this is loosely based on the song Panic Room. It was supposed to be a lot more like the song but then this happened and I like it too much to change it. Not proofread.
Tw: Lots of violence, guns mentioned, killing. Literally the whole thing is very dark so.
(Gif isn’t mine)
It was dark, so very dark and cold. It was so cold. Rocking back and forth was no help to fight off the frost that bit your skin, everything about this place smothering any hope you had left. Sobs left your lips as you sat there curled up into a ball. The need to scream was so strong that when the sound tore through your lips, it wasn't a shock. Goosebumps were so prominent on your skin and your heart was racing so fast and your breaths were so uneven and maybe you were dying. You were ready for anything though how you sat would probably indicate just how terrified you were. But being terrified didn't mean you weren't ready.
If anything, it meant you were as prepared the most you could be. It wasn’t the first time being here, you knew what happened. It was almost impossible to escape the monsters that lurked in the shadows here and you tried your hardest to think back to them. The pain and suffering and ache for someone, literally anyone, to save you. But no one ever came and you had to be your own hero. This time, you didn’t think you were strong enough.
Looking up and around the room you were trapped in, your face was so pale and your eyes so wild. You looked dead, dark bags under your eyes only adding to the effect. Everything looked fuzzy except the screen. Gaze locked on the video, you heart broke again and again and again, shattering beyond repair. Not only were trapped here, suffocating in the darkness, but you had to relive that. The same monster that haunted your dreams for most of your life and now you were trapped within memory once more.
Screaming once more, you wanted someone to hear. Your echoing screams were driving you crazy. The hold on your knees became tighter, nails digging into the skin as you shook and sobbed. Silence was deafening, you had spent your life drowning it out and yet here you were, trapped in this dark, damp room with it. You could feel your skin crawl as you caved in yourself further.
You couldn’t speak, not that anyone would hear you anyway. No one could reach you in these dark depths, you knew that. So why did you expect someone to run through that door any moment now? Where you were was inaccessible, a place that didn’t even exist and you were the only one who could reach it. So being trapped there really sucked.
Lights flickered on and off, sparking from being overpowered and shutting down all together. Small whimpers left your chapped lips as you finally leaned your head back against the wall behind you. Monsters surrounded you, pain, grief, anger, guilt. What you would give to just be out of here. You had always tried your best to stay out of these situations after they had saved you, after everything you had done, but life had other plans. And right here, in this room, every emotion was so overpowering, so smothering and you couldn’t repress them anymore. You’d lost control. Your facade had finally crumbled and you were locked away once again with your troubles. If only you were strong enough to control your powers, you wouldn’t have returned. You just weren’t strong enough.
You watched as more screens turned on, one by one. They showed your worst memories, all the pain and horrors of your life. It was too much, your hands moving to your hair, pulling at the roots. Any pain was better than watching those. Voice hoarse and scratchy, you scream once more, just desperate to be heard. Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you felt silenced, the screams no longer echoing. Something else did, footsteps. But you were so deep in the pain and suffering you didn’t pick up on them, tearful eyes reflecting the horrors that were your memories. They were a tornado of fear and torture and terror and you were sucked into it. They had reached out and dragged you down with them, blocking out all the light, all the hope, that you had been blessed with.
“Y/N?” A small gasp left your lips as your dazed eyes look to the brunet at the door. You shook your head, this was a step too far. The small smile of relief on his face, the tears eyes, the slight shake in his hands. “No, you’re not real. You can’t be real. Stop, stop it,” you mumbled to yourself, watching his face fall as he took a hesitant step forward. Your hands slid into your hair once more as your head moved down to rest on your knees, “Stop it, he’s not real, he’s not,” you could hear the small sniffle that came from him, the light footsteps he took, “Stop!” You screeched into your jean clad legs, heart beating fast. You glanced to where he was, expecting him to be gone but he still stood, hands out as he took slow careful steps forward. “I’m here, I’ve got you. It’s Peter, just come here,” he stood a small way away from you, panicked that you didn’t want him there. Your eyes fluttered between screens and he followed, gaze taking in it all.
He watched all the killing you had done, all the pain you caused before he looked back at you. You’d told him, once or twice, that your backstory wasn’t exactly rainbows and sunshine. He knew how you were raised, what you had been forced to be. He knew how you hated yourself for it, how you were trying to make up for it all but seeing it, it was very different from hearing about it. Glancing back to you, he found you had fixated on one screen. All sound from anything faded out as you stood and approached it. You looked to Peter over your shoulder to see his confusion, “What are doing?” Ignoring his question, your hand reaches out to touch the screen and suddenly you were there, both of you.
The courtyard had this calm silence to it, empty apart from the four people in the centre of it all. Two men and two young girls. The older had to be at least sixteen, tied up and gagged in front of the younger, no more eleven. That little girl was staring at the other emotionless while the other looked so broken and hurt. “Y/N, what’s happening?” Not even bothering to respond to Peter, you walked over to the younger girl and scary man with a truly broken expression. Peter followed right after, stopping right behind you and realised that one of the guys was talking. “Shoot her,” he was talking to the youngest, gun placed in her hand, and Peter immediately looked to you with fear swirling in his eyes. When he looked back at the scene, the girl had raised the gun, hands trembling, an the other had managed I lower the gag that now hung around her neck. “Y/N, you don’t have to do this. Put it down, just put it down and we can go home, yeah? We can go see mum and dad, have that picnic you wanted for your birthday? Come on, you didn’t have to shoot me. Please don’t shoot me, I love you bubs. Please don’t,” Peter’s heart broke as you stared at the girl, who’s voice was shaking uncontrollably. Your hand had raised to smother your sobs, your voice breaking as you spoke, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,”
“Y/N, please just put it down,” the young you held the gun in place, now crying, and as you went to lower it, a hand held yours in place. The man had lent down to your height and stared at your sister as he spoke, “Shoot her or he shoots you,” the guy nodded to the one behind your sister and he raised a gun, aimed at your head. Eleven year old you shook your head, mumbling “No,” on repeat (just like older you) as your sister assessed the situation. With tears still in her eyes, she looked to the gun aimed at her and whispered, “You have to shoot me. I’m so sorry but you have to shoot me,” she ignored it when you shook your head and simply nodded in encouragement, “I’m not letting you die, shoot me,”
“No,” both versions of you cried and Peter wiped at the tears at his cheeks, wanting to hold you tightly in some form of comfort. Your sister had nodded with a sad smile sent your way and your shaking hands had pulled the trigger. A loud bang echoed throughout the courtyard, both versions of you and Peter all flinching. A small thud was heard as your sister’s body fell lump on the ground, blood falling from the bullet hole in her head. Instinctively, Peter reached over and gripped your hand, pulling you into him and as you held onto him, he pressed the button the bracelet that Mr Stark had told him to. And you were no longer there.
Sitting up with a gasp, eyes full to the brim with unshed tears as you took in all the superheroes that surrounded you. Curling into yourself again at their worried stares, you flinched at the arms that wrapped around you. You looked to Peter and attempted to push him back, you couldn’t believe you had just let him see that. The boy didn’t let you, grabbing your wrists as gently as he could and meeting your eyes, “You’re okay, it’s okay,” you began to sob again, falling into his body and crying into his chest as he held you. Peter wasn’t looking forward to explaining what he had seen in the deep depths of your mind that he had just pulled you out of. This whole situation was crazy, you losing control of your emotion based powers and being trapped in your mind. Him volunteering to go after you when Tony had found a way and him trying to navigate his way to you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to, I’m sorry,” you mumbled into his chest and Peter shook his head, not wanting to let you go anytime soon.
3 notes · View notes
Natasha Romanoff X Adoptive-Daughter!Reader, eventual Peter Parker X Romanoff!Reader
Summary: She's your mother, you love her there won't be another place like her again that you call home.
Warnings: aliens, mentions drugs, child abandonment, mentions a group home, fluff.
Song: Mother by Sugarland
A/n: HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!
She'll take you in, feed your friends
Her open arms are welcoming
"Mom?" You hollered walking into yours and your mother's shared floor in avengers tower, your friends following behind you.
"Hi sweetheart." Natasha smiled at you.
"Mj, Ned, this is my mom nat." You introduced.
"Your mom is black widow!" Ned said starting in awe.
"Sup." Mj gave your mom a smile.
"Nice to meet you two. Good to see ya pete." Nat nodded at the boy right next to you.
"You too Miss. Romanoff."
She'll rub your back all night when you're crying
She'll listen to you tell your story
"It was crazy! Pete was too busy ogling Lizz and she almost fell!" You rambled on. Nat listened concerned, she saw what happened in Washington on the news and knew you were in the elevator when it happened. Tony was watching assuring her that Peter would rescue you and your classmates. "Luckily Peter caught her but it was so scary!"
"I'm glad your okay." She pulled you into a hug once you were done with your story.
"Yeah just a bruise cause Flash pushed me out of the way to get out." You rolled your eyes but relaxed in your mom's arms.
Hold your fear and all your worries
Help you find the truth when they're all lying
Even when it's hopeless, she keeps trying
You sat in front of the group home playing with a ratty teddy bear by yourself. 11 years old and this has been what you've know for the last two years. Your dad is in jail while your mother was somewhere caring more about drugs than her daughter. You looked up from your bear when you heard screams. Seeing an alien coming your way. You scream running down the street stumbling a bit before you hid behind a car hugging your teddy bear.
"Romanoff help them." Steve said, the battle with loki was done he was in custody but now Steve, and Natasha were helping make sure citizens were accounted for.
"Okay cap." She headed toward two women who were checking on a group of kids. "Everyone okay here?"
"I think so. We're just making sure all the kids are here." One of the women explained.
"Y/n is missing!" The other woman exclaimed.
"I'll find her." Nat promised before going off to look for the young girl.
Back with you. You hesitantly stood up from your hiding spot to see your home city destroyed. Because of that you had no clue where you were or how far you ran. Hugging your teddy tighter you began walking in what direction you hoped to be to the group home.
"Hey kid!" You looked around seeing a woman with red hair making her way toward you. "Is your name y/n?"
"Yes Ma'am who are you?" You whimpered.
"I'm Nat, I'm gonna help you home."
"Thank you!" You smiled taking her hand as she led you back to the home.
Neither of you knew that, that would be the day your lives changed for the best.
She's your mother, you love her
There won't be another
place like her again that you call home
She stands here to help you
"Y/n come here I have to ask you something important." Nat said ushering you over to her.
"What's up?" You asked your foster mom smiling. It's been two years since you met.
"I got some news... Your freed to be adopted." She smiled. "I wanted to know... Would you like me to adopt you?"
"Yes!!!" You screamed tackling her with a hug.
She stands here to help you
there's nothing she won't do
As long as she's alive
you're not alone
you've got each other
That's your mother
"Hey mom." You smiled sitting down on the couch next to her.
"Hi." She smiled back at you. "I have mission today. But bucky and Sam aren't coming on the mission so they'll be checking in on you." She explained.
"Okay! I love hanging out with them. Bucky let's me put magnets on his arm!" You said happily. She shook her head laughing.
She fixes all the broken things
When you're in love, she's got a ring
To give to you, she hopes you'll give away
She don't care who you give it to
Where they're from, if they pray like you
As long as they are good to you, that's enough
First thing she taught you was love is love
"Mom?" You hollered in. After no response you looked back at your boyfriend. "Coast is clear come on." You smiled pulling him in and going toward the hallway that leads to your bedroom.
"Who's he?" Nat smirked from her spot on the couch with Steve and Sam.
"This is Evan... My uh boyfriend." You said nervously shuffling on your feet. "Evan, that is my mom Nat, and her friends Steve and Sam."
"Hello nice to meet you." He smiled.
"Hi." Nat smiled.
"Oooh tiny romanoff has a bOoyfriend." Sam teased laughing when your face flushed.
"Hey kid." Steve gave a small wave.
"Okay we're going to my room. Let's go." You dragged him out behind you.
"Leave the door open!" Was called out by the adults you call your family.
She's your mother, you love her
There won't be another
place like her again that you call home
She stands here to help you
there's nothing she won't do
"How was school?" Nat asked you as you climbed into the car. She just adopted you three months ago.
"It was great nat!" You smiled.
"Yeah mom! I got an A on the test!" You said not noticing you had called her mom, for the first time. She noticed, and she was so happy.
"Yeah and I got invited to a party this Friday... Could I go? Please?"
"Whose house? Will parents be there?" She threw out questions.
"Caleb's. And yes."
As long as she's alive
you're not alone
you've got each other
That's your mother
"Mom!" You said excitedly as you saw she was home from a long mission.
"Hey sweetie." She smiled hugging you.
"Hi! How was the mission?" You asked.
"It was good? Were you behaved?"
"Yes I was!" You said proudly.
When you fail her, when you're afraid
And crying in the careless mess you've made
She'll make you clean it up yourself
and offer you a little help
And dry your weary eyes when you let her
But she'll look at you and know you can do better
You sighed trying again. Punching the bag harder this time. Today was rough. A breakup never was easy. So you were in the gym of the avengers tower, when you moved into the tower she taught you to take your anger out on a punching bag instead of another person. So you've done it ever since you were 11. You only came in the gym for this reason.
"Sweetheart?" You heard but ignored it. "Y/n." She said louder. She sighed watching you punch the bag harder. Friday had alerted her that you were down here.
"Nothing." You grumbled letting your hands fall to your sides. She immediately wrapped her arms around you putting her hand on the back of your head.
"Please tell me what happened? We'll visit your cousins if you do." She tried to bargain knowing how much you loved hanging out with Clint's kids.
"Evan broke up me." You choked up hiding your face in her shoulder.
"Oh baby." She whispered.
She's your mother, you love her
There won't be another
Place like her again that you call home
She stands here to help you
"Y/n Romanoff." You began walking down the stage. The cheers of the avengers was all that could be heard. You looked up and saw your mom standing up clapping for you.
You met up with them outside after the graduation. You immediately hugged your mom. She's your rock. You were more than positive that if she hadn't adopted you your life would've been so different.
"I'm so proud of you." She smiled.
"Thank you Momma."
There's nothing she won't do
As long as she's alive
You're not alone
The secrets in your heart she's always known
"Mom! I have a new boyfriend." You told her feeling giddy.
"Really? Tell me all about him!" She said from her spot on the sofa.
"I want to know too!" Wanda agreed.
"Well... He's super sweet! And polite. And his so cute!" You gushed. "He has a messy mop of brown hair! And he makes me feel safe."
"Aw." Wanda gushed at how you looked like a love-sick puppy.
"I have to meet him!" Nat told you.
"Well you kinda have... It's Peter."
"I knew you had a crush on him!!" Nat exclaimed.
"A crush on who?" Peter asked walking out of the elevator.
She's a beacon, a harbour
A lighthouse, her armour
A promise and a blanket when it's cold
You'll understand it more when you get older
You've got each other
That's your mother
You've got each other
That's your mother
A/n: my first Nat fic what do you think?
13 notes · View notes
Comfort in My Shadow
Chapter 7: Perfect
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 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 8
Everything went black. Not because Tony had passed out, but because the world had been consumed by thick piles of dust and a dozen layers of crumpled concrete. A ringing silence pursued after the ceiling had collapsed, leaving him unable to hear anything but the aftereffects of the explosions that he'd attempted desperately to shield Peter from. Not that it had gone very well.
Tony tried to move, gritting his teeth at the pain in the lower half of his body, pinned against the floor by what was probably hundreds, if not thousands, of pounds of concrete and metal. He was unsuccessful in even moving an inch, reduced to only wiggling under the smothering weight. At least his head and upper body had managed to avoid being hit. But he didn't know the same for Peter.
"Kid?" he called, his voice raspy. He coughed a few times, sucking in gritty air and blinking rapidly, trying to find the teenager in the low light. "Peter? Where are you, bud?"
There was a grunt, and then the grating of concrete shifting. Tony turned his head in the direction of the noise, squinting. He swallowed down a gasp as he finally caught sight of the kid.
He was not too far from Tony, his entire body crushed between two slabs of rough concrete. Only his head and a shoulder poked out, the material crumbling as the boy shifted. The two were separated by a wall of rebars, snapped and sharpened from the collapse of the ceiling. Whatever Peter had done in the chaos as the roof had fallen, it had saved Tony from the worst of it and left the kid there instead.
"Peter?" he tried again.
There was a whined groan in response, followed by the rumbled grinding of concrete and the clatter of stone falling. It was hard to make out through the darkness, but the kid's head picked up at his call. He could barely distinguish his bloodied and dirtied face, only his swimming eyes broke out from the oppressive darkness.
"Mr...Mr. Stark?" Peter rasped, his voice croaky and strained. His eyes picked the mechanic out in the darkness, settling on him easily.
"Right here, kid," he responded. "Can you move?"
There was a scrabble and the sound of primitive rustling. Tony squinted harder, trying desperately to make out the kid. He could see the movement of limbs scraping against the floor and the flurried panic of a tired struggle. He expected it to die down after a few moments once the teenager realized he was trapped, but, if anything, the scraped movement only picked up in its furor.
And then there was the gasping of wheezed breaths.
"Kid, you gotta calm down." There was no response. "Peter--"
"Mr. Stark!! Please, please, please. I’m stuck, I’m stuck. I can’t move. I can’t..."
"I'm right here, kid. Right here," he tried to assure. "It's okay, kid. It's gonna be okay, you can relax."
Peter shook his head. "No. No, no, I should've--I've got these powers and I couldn't even...I can't even get us out... You were right about the suit, Mr. Stark."
Tony stared at the kid who was keeping his head down, shoulders slumped. He swallowed.
"Maybe I was." Peter flinched, head picking up to stare at him through the maze of rebars, eyes wet. "But you're more than a suit, Peter."
"No I'm not," Peter muttered. "I couldn't even take down the vulture guy with the suit, and I've been here for two days. I should've been able to escape."
"I was in Afghanistan for three months, in an admittedly pretty shitty situation, but with access to materials. Nobody would've expected you to get out from here, kid. I didn't." Peter glanced away from him. Tony dragged in a rugged breath, thinking back to everything horrible that Peter had told him before the ceiling had collapsed. "I said later, but now's as good a time as ever I guess. You're my soulmate. And I'm proud of that."
"I don't want to hear any 'buts' on that. Not one. I have waited my entire life just to meet you, and I am not disappointed in the slightest. I never even thought of that as a possibility." A pause as he let that sink in. "You asked after the ferry why I cared. I think that's a ridiculous question, but I'll answer it now anyway: You're my soulmate. The little shadow I've been dreaming of meeting for fifteen years. And let me tell you, kid, dreams don't measure up to you.”
He could see glistening tears running down Peter's face, a confused expression scrunching up the boy's features. Piecing together a puzzle impossible to do alone.
"What's eating at you? Let me fix it." A moment of pure desperation. "Please."
There was a moment, a teary sniff, and then, "You said, "forever," and--I thought you didn't want to see me again."
Tony flinched, jostling the pain spiking his trapped legs. But whatever level the pain was, he deserved it for causing this good and kind kid. He forced out a harsh sigh.
"I...I didn't mean it. Not like that. Never like that, Peter. There is nothing you could've done that would have made me never want to see you again... What I said that day--I was scared. I was scared for all those people and I was scared for you." He took in a deep breath, unused to being this vulnerable. For just tearing down his walls like this. But Peter needed him. Peter needed Tony to be honest and open. "I was scared of losing you, and I freaked out and I didn't handle it great and...and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Peter."
"Not forever then?"
"No. Not forever." He tried for a smile. "I was going to call you tonight actually, to make sure we were still on for Friday. I didn't realize you'd put your phone in your mask. Or your other stuff. You're getting all of it back when we get out of here, by the way."
"How are we getting out of here?" Peter asked. "I can barely move."
Tony twisted as far as he could, squinting into the darkness. "We need some leverage. If I can get this off of me, I might be able to call for help. Oh, and stop Mr. Vulture from stealing my whole plane."
"Later. Anything near you that could give us a good purchase on this shit?"
Peter searched around at Mr. Stark's request, looking desperately for something that might free the man. His lower half was trapped underneath a concrete slab, so he just needed something that could let him reach it. Maybe dislodge it a little so that they could hope his phone wasn't broken.
After a few seconds, Peter's eyes landed on the wall of broken rebars between him and Mr. Stark. There were a few long ones, easy enough for him to reach and long enough for Mr. Stark to use. He grunted, reaching out and gritting his teeth in pain as the concrete and metal clamped down around his ribs.
Mr. Stark turned to look at him from where he'd been searching in his area, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of Peter finally wrapping a hand around a rusted rebar. With a grunt, a snap, and a tear, the skewered metal was free, the end he was holding slowly being covered in blood from where it had cut at his hand. But it was free.
"Here," he said, pushing it through the wall of rebar. Mr. Stark grabbed it immediately, pulling it over to his side.
"Good work, kid," the man complimented. Peter watched with sharp eyes through the dark as he twisted, jabbing the metal underneath the slab and heaving. Pushing the rebar back and forth, the concrete began to shift, wiggling backwards. After a few minutes, Mr. Stark was, well, he was still trapped, but he was allowed much better movement now.
The man dug into his now free pockets, pulling out a phone, grimacing, and then grabbing another phone. Another grimace. "Phones don't work. All broken."
"Nothing else in your bag of tricks?" Peter asked. Mr. Stark shook his head.
"I've got plenty of trackers on me, but there's nothing to do until someone realizes we're missing."
That you're missing, not me, Peter thought, but he didn't voice aloud. Instead, he stared down at the ground, wheezing in rattled and wet breaths. Vulture guy was going after the plane, filled to the brim with Avengers stuff and Mr. Stark's inventions and all sorts of dangerous weapons. The guy had built a business on scraps, the thought of what he could do with all of that other stuff was terrifying. And he couldn't let it happen.
Peter grit his teeth, sucking in a deep breath as he braced his shoulders, tensing them up against the concrete. It began to shift above him, grating and scraping and tearing at his still ringing ears. He couldn't help the pained grunt, but it was working. There was enough free space that he could twist his arms, shifting the weight.
He was aware of Mr. Stark staring at him, but only dimly, as he raised onto his knees and then his feet, flinching at every piece of concrete that crashed down around him. He bit down on every scream that tried to tear its way through his throat, but he couldn't completely keep them in. Short outbursts of pain escaped, but then the weight and the pain was gone. There was a deafening crash as it tumbled behind him, stirring up a cloud of dust and dirt so thick he couldn't see a thing as he dropped onto his knees, coughing violently.
"Kid?" Mr. Stark called.
Peter wheezed in a shaky breath, forcing himself back to his feet. "Here! I'm okay, Mr. Stark."
There was a relieved sigh as Peter jumped shakily over the pile of rubble, gripping onto the top and then dropping onto the ground right next to where Mr. Stark was still trapped. The man stared up at him, a proud smile on his face.
"That was impressive, kid. You did good."
Peter grabbed the concrete slab, lifting it easily. His ears burned at the praise.
"Thanks." He held out a hand, which Mr. Stark accepted, pulling the man up. He stumbled for a moment, a hand resting on Peter's shoulder for support. The teenager thought back to the fingers that had curled into his skin and left dark bruises and darker nightmares. But this hand was soft, strong and everything Mr. Fowler wasn't. Peter was okay. "Okay, let's go find the vulture guy. He can't have gotten too--"
Peter was cut off as Mr. Stark wrapped him in a hug. The teenager stood stiffly, confused as gentle arms bundled around him and Mr. Stark's head pressed against his own. After a hesitant moment, he raised his own arms and, after not knowing how long it had been since he'd had a hug, his arms grasped around Mr. Stark. Tight and tired and desperate. He closed his eyes.
With a pat on his back, Mr. Stark let go.
"C'mon, let's get moving. We've got a plane to catch."
Peter followed his soulmate quickly, stumbling after the man and out of the broken rubble, his legs more than a little sore. "How? Aren't your armors on the plane?"
"They are, but they'll be good for something else other than fighting tonight."
Peter blinked, more than a little confused, but he followed Mr. Stark out of the building nevertheless. There was a sleek car waiting, still rumbling with the keys in and the door flung wide open. Mr. Stark slipped into the driver's seat and, after a moment of hesitation, Peter got in the shotgun.
"Hello, sir, glad to see you're still alive," greeted a cool voice. Peter flinched in surprise.
"Yeah, yeah. Can it, Fri, I need the plane's location right now."
"It is currently twenty minutes out from the compound on its projected course."
A screen popped up in the car, showing the path of the plane. Both the man and the teenager's brows furrowed, glancing at each other. That wasn't right.
"Okay, I want you to keep an eye on it and see if anything's tampered with it," Mr. Stark started, grabbing a pair of glasses from the glovebox and slipping them on. "And track Mark Forty-Nine while you're at it. Let's see where these bastards really are." A second dot appeared on the screen, veering off from the projected course of the plane. "Gotcha."
"But how are we going to get there?" Peter asked. Mr. Stark thought for a moment.
"Rhodey's got the only other suit right now, but he's in DC. And Vision's in Europe for a little honeymoon or whatever, so that just leaves us."
"A man with a heart condition and a teenager."
"A teenager who just lifted several thousand pounds while trapped. And my heart's fine, thank you," Mr. Stark countered. Peter gave him a look but it fell as he took in the man's expression, clearly warring with himself. Fear and apprehension and scary determination. After a moment, Mr. Stark sighed, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a familiar red fabric. It was placed on the console in between them. "You're our best bet right now, kid. Lives are going to be lost if we don't get that stuff back before they can start selling it."
Peter grabbed the scarlet mask hesitantly, glancing between the narrowed eyes and Mr. Stark. There was a shake in his hand, accompanied by murky brown eyes and the stench of overpowering beer. Of a hand on his shoulder and the horrible inability to fight back. The teenager shook away the memories flooding him as subtly as he could. He voice shook as he said, "I don't think I'm ready."
Mr. Stark fixed him with a steady stare. These brown eyes weren't murky, they were bright and strong. He didn't smell of rank beer, instead roasted coffee and faint motor oil. The lines on his face weren't fixed in anger and worn away by the harm he'd caused, but rather a comforting mix of laugh lines and memories of regret.
As if against his will, Peter was instantly soothed, his racing heart calming and his nerves quieting. Mr. Stark's words only amplified the safety that had cocooned the teenager ever since gentle arms had wrapped around him.
"We never are, kid. But the world doesn't wait." Peter ducked his head, brow furrowing and mouth frowning. Confusion and fear and doubt all warring and showing clearly on his face. At his silence, Mr. Stark added, "You can do it, Peter, I know you can. You're going to be the best of all of us one day."
Peter's face burned. His heart swelled. His resolve hardened. With a sharp nod, Peter gathered up the suit and hopped into the back of the car. It began to speed off immediately, but Peter stuck himself to the car floor easily, beginning to pull on the suit.
"How are we going to catch up?" he asked. A horn blared and Peter looked back to see someone honking at them as they cut them off.
"If they stay on their course, they'll be going over Jersey in ten."
"We can't make it to Jersey in ten."
"How fast can you swing to Jersey?"
"From here? Not fast enough."
Mr. Stark thought for a moment, eyes focused on the road. "Friday, are the drones still ready to be deployed from the compound?"
"Get one over here, and then attach it to the plane's coordinates."
Peter leaned up front, his mask pulled up over his hair. Mr. Stark glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "What's the drone for?"
"Much faster than a car," he answered. "Get on the hood, it'll take you to the plane in time. I'll try to catch up and keep under you, but right now, it's up to you."
The window rolled down for him. Peter glanced between Mr. Stark and the opening. He gave the man a smile, pulling the mask down. "I won't disappoint you, Mr. Stark."
"You never could, Peter-butter."
Peter, already out the window, peaked his head back in. "I'll be back with an embarrassing nickname for you. Just you wait."
"I don't doubt it."
The drone arrived quickly. Peter's spider sense picked up on it quickly, barreling in from behind him. He narrowed his eyes at it, unfurling from his crouch on the car. With a perfectly timed leap, he jumped off of the car's hood, attaching himself to the drone and holding on as it climbed higher. He swallowed nervously. Heights were kind of his thing, but flying and swinging were very different.
"Incoming call from Tony Stark," Karen said in his ear.
"Connect him," Peter said, nervously readjusting his grip on the drone. A closer look revealed it was the same model as the one that had helped piece the ferry back together. It was pretty cool, actually, able to contort itself to be just a little bigger for Peter to hold onto.
"Hey, kiddo. How's it hanging?"
"Do not joke about this, Mr. Stark."
"Don't tell me you're afraid of heights."
"I swing, I don't fly, Mr. Stark."
"Same difference," Mr. Stark said. Peter grumbled, immediately planning a time to swing the man around. He'd get his revenge one day. "Okay, the cameras on the plane are playing on a loop, so I can't see what's going on over there. You're going to go in blind."
"Okay, okay. Plan. We need a plan. Right?"
"I've got one. I'm gonna stay on the phone with you. When you get in, I'll walk you through resetting the plane's route and activating the Iron Man armors. They'll take it from there."
"Okay, okay, okay. Solid--solid plan."
"Eyes on the prize, kid. ETA in five minutes."
Five minutes came and went too quickly and too slowly. Either way, the teenager wasn't quite prepared when he broke through the clouds, the screen in his mask picking the reflective plane out of the air. He squinted at the strange lump poking out of it, realizing after a moment that it was the vulture's wings.
"I see the plane, Mr. Stark," Peter reported as the drone flew him closer. Once he was underneath, he let go, sticking himself to the plane and attaching a securing web just in front of him. The drone flew off, but he could still hear it buzzing around. "I don't see anyone, but the guy's wings are here. I think it's covering his entrance."
"Do you think you can move it?"
Peter crawled over the metal, getting on the other side and securing himself once more. He gave it a heavy kick. It moved, but not much. "I think so, yeah."
"Okay, get to working on that."
Spider-Man kicked again, pushing with all of his available strength at the metal encasing in front of him. A jolt of pain shot up his leg with every movement, but he didn't stop. He kicked and kicked and kicked until--
Alarms rang inside the plane, and Peter couldn't help the way he flinched.
"Okay, so uh, it moved, but not enough and I think he knows," Peter reported.
"Are you sure?"
The wings opened, revealing a flash of bright green eyes that he only saw for a second before they were lost in the clouds.
"Uh, yeah. Yep. Pretty sure, Mr. Stark. Pretty sure." Peter glanced up at where the wings had been, disappointed to see no opening for him. He began to climb up the side to where the door should be. "Uh, his opening is gone."
"Can you still get in?"
The wind swept Peter back when he reached for the door, making him grunt in pain as his bruised back was slapped against the metal. He opened his mouth to answer when his senses spiked. He whipped his head around, letting out a yell of surprise as wings broke through the clouds. He shot out two webs on instinct, hitting the metal wings that he barely had time to dodge before they slashed through the metal just inches above his head. The vulture continued flying, pulling him and his web along. He shot another one at the plane, suspending him in air.
"What the hell was that?" Mr. Stark. Peter grunted.
The web snapped.
Peter was trapped in air for a fleeting second before he was shot through the air, the plane still moving ever forward. The jet whirred, angry metal teeth whirring to swallow him. He let out a raspy yell, his throat scratchy. He shot out his arms and shot what looked like half of his web fluid. He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting pain. When there was nothing, he blinked his eyes open to see himself snugly caught in the stuffed propeller.
The propeller fell, and he barely managed to cling on. He reached out an arm, grabbing on and kicking the broken motor. It creaked out before falling through the clouds with a deafening whoosh. He slipped back into the circle where the motor had been.
"I can't believe that worked," he said with a relieved gasp. He began making his way onto the top of the plane so that he could try and reach the door again.
"What worked? What's happening?"
"I thought you had the Baby Monitor protocol," Peter snipped.
"You disabled it," Mr. Stark responded. "I put the suit in the box and didn't look at it. I'll fix it tomorrow."
"Great. Maybe change the name, though."
"No can do, Peter-butter."
Peter opened his mouth--to quip or groan he didn't really know--but any thought of snide remarks was washed away by the raising of his hairs and the pounding of his skull. The Vulture returned, shooting out of the clouds. Peter rolled out of the way, narrowly avoiding the sparked slashes left behind by the metal wings where he had been only a second before.
The wind swept him back as he struggled to get a grip, the whirring of another engine screaming danger behind him. He forced out his back leg and splayed out his hands, trying desperately to stick to the sparking plane. He looked underneath himself to glance at the jet, his head snapping back up at the scraping of metal as the Vulture returned once more.
A wing struck out, and, seeing no other escape, Peter let go. He managed to get a grip again by attaching a web, but the wing came for another slash, digging into the plane where he had been barely a moment before. It snapped the web, and the teenager was dragged back.
Peter flew up as the Vulture came for him once more, the wind carrying him. His senses spiked, but he managed to narrowly miss the jet, instead knocking against the side and flying back. He shot out another web, flailing out behind the dashing plane, the jet catching on fire and blowing a trail of harsh smoke into his face.
"Peter, you're dropping real fast. What's going on, bud?"
The teenager couldn't find it in himself to answer, his breath shot as the plane began to careen downwards. Peter pulled himself forward by his web, squinting his eyes and glaring over the rapidly disappearing clouds. A city was in view.
"Oh, my God."
Ignoring the Vulture digging into the plane and Mr. Stark's demanded question, Peter turned, shooting out a web and forcing himself to his feet. He pulled, letting out a harsh yell at the pulling on his arms, though it was washed out by the groaning of the wings as it turned.
"Please turn! Please turn!" he yelled.
The sparking plane began to tilt, carrying them over the city where it disappeared to be replaced by the twisting rides of Coney Island and the sand that stretched beside it.
The web snapped, whipping him into a tumble onto the plane's wing where he barely held on, curling himself into a tense ball on the flashing metal. There was no time for goodbyes or terrified thoughts or anything of regret. There was only approaching land and a tired fear in his choked throat.
"I'm really sorry, Mr. Stark."
The plane crashed.
Sound left Peter. Reason and understanding left him too. All he was aware of was the pain as he was launched from the plane's snapped wing, rolling a million times over. The sand was hot against him, even through the suit, the high friction tearing and scratching at him through the suit. The heat tore at him, clawing at him worse than anything else.
Peter finally came to a rolled stop in the sand in the middle of dark plumes of smoke and the harsh brightness of red and orange flames. He was sure that the plane was sparking, the wind roaring, and the fire crackling, but there was nothing for him to hear except for the ringing. He was aware dully that Mr. Stark was speaking for him, but nothing made sense as he struggled for a coherent breath.
The teenager took in a gasping breath, forcing himself onto one of his elbows and tugging at his mask with shaky hands. He tore off the fabric covering his face, peeling it off of his sweat and and blood covered face, throwing it into the sand in pain. He stumbled back onto his elbows with the force of his rattling coughs. After a moment, he picked himself up by his arms and knees, finally forcing his stumbling and shaking feet into use, allowing him to stare around the turned up beach.
A tingle ran up his spine. He turned, squinting into the surrounding fire. Green eyes and sharp claws burst out of the sparks and plumes.
He gasped in rattled fear, the reality of the world returning in a loud rush of overwhelming sound and heat as the sharp metal claws clamped around him, pushing him back down into the sand. He let out an unwilling scream as the metal tips tore through his skin.
There was a whine and a whir as Peter was lifted into the air by his wounds. He struck out his hands, tugging at the metal claws until they let go. Peter dropped, grimacing as he turned in air to shoot a web, flinging himself back up and into the man's metal suit. The Vulture was forced to dip low as the teenager unbalanced him, but it left Peter unbalanced too.
The boy snapped against the loose sand, a pained mumble escaping his tired lips, blood tricking from them. The Vulture approached slowly, threateningly. A hooked feather extended, reaching forward and aiming towards his chest. Peter swallowed painfully, staring up at the man through the grit in his eyes and a fiery red lens, sure that this was it.
He could barely move, he could barely even talk. He wished he was at least wearing his mask, just so that he could say goodbye.
The feather jabbed forward. Peter flinched and closed his eyes.
There was a sharp, reverberating clang.
The pain never came.
Tony stood over Peter, a metal encased arm raised in front of him, a metal feather knocked against the Iron Man gauntlet reaching up to his elbow that he had barely managed to grab from the plane's rubble before rushing over. He glared at the Vulture hovering in front of him, the green eyes piercing. Behind him, he heard Peter mutter lowly, "Mr. Star'?"
"Mr. Stark," the Vulture echoed him mockingly, the metal feather still slashed against Tony's upheld arm. "I didn't know you care so much to put yourself in harm's way. Perhaps you're right. I don't know everything."
"No. You don't," Tony answered shortly, narrowing his eyes up at the man through his glasses. He glanced beyond the man at where boxes of his stuff sat idly in the fire, resisting the desperate urge to turn his head and look at the kid. "Now's your chance to run before anyone else shows up."
"How generous, Stark," the man said. "But I'm not leaving empty-handed."
"Then you're not leaving at all."
"Contrary to your usual position, I'm the one with the power now."
"Oh, yeah?" Tony challenged, taking a step forward. The man hovered back, just a little. But it was enough for Tony to confidently lie out of his ass. "Big talk for a man in a bird-suit. You think I didn't have a contingency for this? I have contingencies for my contingencies. A functional War Machine armor and a vibranium android are on their way right now. Three minutes. Your choice."
The feather withdrew from against his gauntlet, the Vulture hovering backwards. Tony held his bright green stare, a furious glare written harshly across all of his features. The man didn't turn away, instead glancing over Tony's head and raising his wings. He flew at Tony, forcing the mechanic to duck down to avoid the wings that sliced the air overhead.
He expected an attack, but nothing ever came. He turned to glare at the man, his eyes narrowing as he watched metal clamp down onto a leaking metal box, glowing arc reactors slipping out. He wanted to yell; to shout and run and defend the power sources only moments away from being stolen, but his shadow flashed underneath him, dragging the mechanic's eyes down to the kid trying to stumble back onto his knees, one arm clutched around his chest.
Tony let him go, dipping down low to kneel beside the kid. It was selfish, and he knew it. Those arc reactors could cause a lot of damage in the wrong hands, but Peter was infinitely more important to him.
Tony pat the kid's back even as he tried to stumble to his feet, murmuring reassuringly, "It's okay. Take a seat, kiddo, you did good."
Peter glanced at him from where he was staring at the Vulture, beginning to lift off into the air, flames trailing after him. There was a terrified stiffness to the kid. His voice was shaky as he said, "Mr. Stark--Mr. Stark, his wing suit. His wing suit's going to explode!"
Tony followed Peter's gaze to stare at the Vulture's wings. They were fizzing and sparking. His immediate thought was, good. He won't get away, but Peter was different. Peter was better. The kid flicked out a shaking hand, a white line streaking out from the metal on his wrist and attaching to the Vulture's suit.
Peter stood, Tony followed suit, unsure of what to do. He didn't have super strength, he couldn't exactly help, so he stood by the kid, a metal arm raised up in warning as the Vulture turned around, clearly confused by the resistance on his suit. Peter only pulled back tighter.
"Time to go home, Pete," the Vulture said.
"I’m trying to save you!" Peter yelled. Tony just glared, refusing to move a muscle as the Vulture raised a wing. He snapped through the web. Peter was flung backwards with the force, landing harshly in the sand. Tony startled, cursing and kneeling beside him as the kid tried desperately to shoot another web. He sent a terrified glance Tony's way as he realized that he was out of fluid.
Heads twisted to glance at the Vulture, the fizzing and sparking crescendoing. With a split second realization about what was going to happen, he forced Peter to the ground, guarding the kid from the heat that exploded behind them and grabbing his head protectively. Peter curled up underneath him, one hand clutching into his jacket desperately.
When the initial force was over, the two unfurled from one another, turning to stare at the crackling fire.
"No," Peter murmured. The teenager flinched and squirmed, rushing to his feet. Tony grabbed his arm.
"Kid," he breathed.
"Mr. Stark, I gotta--I gotta go get him."
Their shadows stretched out from them, switched. A spindly thin teen reflecting a spindly thin teen and a ruffled and sharp man reflecting a ruffled and sharp man. The teenager tore his arm away, the shadows returned, and one terrified and regretful look was sent to Tony.
"Peter!!" Tony yelled. The kid was already gone into the burning flames, and, without a moment of hesitation, Tony followed.
The fire scorched at him through his dark suit, licking and crackling at his skin. He hissed, forcing down pain and squinting through the smoke to make out Peter's red and blue suit. The kid was crouched down beside a heap of metal, a yell of pain escaping him as he touched it. Tony ran over, catching Peter by surprise as he turned up to look at him.
There was apprehension, and then there was understanding. A sliver of trust thrown his way.
Tony gave Peter a nod, digging his metal encased hand underneath the burning heap. Peter followed suit, forcing his own fingers underneath the sand. With equally heavy grunts, the metal lifted, revealing the soot covered body of the Vulture. No mask, no wings. Just a man.
Peter grabbed him, throwing the man over his shoulder fireman style. Together the two stumbled out of the fire. Peter dropped the coughing Vulture onto the sand, stepping a few feet forward before collapsing to the ground himself. Tony laid down beside the gasping kid, wheezing in rasped breaths himself.
Two heroes and a vulture, all collapsed on the sand, coughing smoke out of their lungs like lunatics. Tony didn't know whether to laugh or not. As if it would provide an answer, he turned to stare at the kid, catching Peter's eye, who turned to stare at him as well. Tony smiled. Peter followed suit tentatively, doe eyes swimming.
"I've got your nickname, Mr. Stark," Peter rasped. Tony huffed a laugh.
"Yeah? Lay it on me."
"MacaTony. Like--like macaroni?"
Tony laughed. Full on and hearty and completely disregarding the smoke choking his lungs. He didn't care as the coughs were mixed with his crazed giggles, resting his head back against the sand and staring up at the sky. After a moment, Peter's own laughs joined his, mixing with the crackles of pluming fire.
Their shadows stretched in the orange light, their own kind of happiness flickering in the dark silhouettes, like they knew that their souls had finally met. Finally understood.
Or maybe the goofy grin stretched across Tony's face was making him delirious with joy, but Peter's own bright and sooty grin was enough to make the world feel right even in the rubble of an invisible plane on a burning beach.
Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 8
@annabanannabeth here ya go!
18 notes · View notes