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#worried tony stark

Okay this fic I’m writing which I’ve told y’all about right ?? I’ve offically gotten to the part that I get stuck

Why this always gotta happen

Like I know what’s gonna happen I just ugh ,, getting there

Maybe I’ll write a short lil one shot real quick and get back there

But like ugh this story hurts so much I don’t wanna take a break from it, but at least I have reading week next week so maybe then I’ll get it finish ???

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Peter stepped into Stark Tower, covering his mouth as he yawned. Tony hadn’t been able to pick him up today because of a board meeting and was going to send Happy up, but Peter told him he wouldn’t mind walking to the tower.

Tony, always the overprotective dad, had insisted he walk instead of swing in broad daylight, where he would be an obvious red and blue target.

He’d grumbled about in their group chat with May, but he really didn’t mind. He liked to stroll through the crowds, his earbuds in, blasting his favorite playlist and blocking out any other noises.

Peter yawned once again, the air conditioner making him shiver. He strolled cheerfully towards the elevator, excited for his lab time and movie night with Mr. Stark.

He began to say, “FRI, penthouse, please,” when a loud voice interrupted him.

“Hey, you! Kid! Stop right there!”

Peter froze and turned around. Two security guards marched up to him. He had never seen them before, but Mr. Stark had mentioned something the other day about “new staff” and “better security,” so he assumed they were new.

“You’re not allowed to be here,” she said, her tall figure towering above him. 

“B-but- I am, really! I’m an intern here, ask anyone!” He knew he sounded hysterically and completely unbelievable, but the sight of the two of the guards made his spidey sense bounce in his brain like an extra fast screensaver in an old tv. Probably because they had their hands on their tasers. Had the security guards always had tasers?

“Okay, kid, either you leave or we’ll make you,” said the shorter man. 

“But-” he began. 

Then a jolt of electricity ran through him. The guard shoved her taser back in its holster, and Peter fell to the ground, twitching violently. She bent and slung him over her shoulder. What he could glimpse of her face for a brief second, she was wearing a malicious grin.

His vision was blurry, his eyes burning, and he realized too late that there was no one else in the building with them. (Oh geez, where was everyone?)

These were not security guards. 

Peter struggled weakly as he was carried to the doors, earning a slap to the cheek. His kidnappers peeked out to see if the coast was clear, then ran to a van parked in front of the doorway.

The teen was thrown unceremoniously in the back, now handcuffed, blinded and gagged, attached to a metal pole. He heard the van door lock, then the pair jumped in. Peter yanked against his cuffs and squirmed around, trying to escape before the van started.

It was no use. The engine rumbled and they pulled away from Stark Tower. He tried the cuffs again, using all his strength, but all it did was send a shooting pain up his wrists.

Where did they get vibranium? As far as Peter knew, that was the only thing that could hold him if he wasn’t weak or sedated. Usually his kidnappers used flimsy metal he could break in a split second. In fact, the only time he’d been locked in vibranium handcuffs was when he’d once been captured by-


Oh shit.

Peter stopped trying to break the cuffs and moved  to work on the metal he was tied to, which was a bit of a struggle with the blindfold. He was about to give it a hard push, when the van stopped suddenly and he was thrown against the back seat.

Peter struggled to blink away the stars in his eyes, wishing he could pull the blindfold off to see what was happening. He could hear tires screeching and cars smashing into another, along with the familiar humming and whirring of the Iron Man suit.

Something blasted through the window and the two Hydra agents cried out. The doors opened and he heard them getting out and yelling. Peter winced when their shouts were cut silent.

There was another repulsor blast, and a few seconds later the door was yanked open with such force it broke off.



Peter smiled through the filthy cloth in his mouth. His blindfold and gag were pulled off gently, and he opened his eyes to find Tony’s terrified face hovering in front of him. 

“Pete- oh baby, are you okay?” he asked frantically. He cupped Peter’s face and kissed his forehead, feeling his head for bumps or blood. He felt along his ribs for breaks and then, satisfied he wasn’t hurt, pulled him into a bone crushing hug. 

“Can’ breathe,” Peter wheezed. “M’sser Stark, can’ breathe!”

Tony’s arms loosened slightly, kissing the top of his head. “Sorry, bud, sorry. I’m sorry, honey. Are you okay? What did they do to you?” He pulled back to see Peter’s face. “Shit, did they hit you?!” He gently rubbed the red mark on his cheek. “Dammit.”

“I’m okay. Really, I promise. I’m fine,” Peter assured him. “But these handcuffs- um, they’re vibranium, I think, um…”

Tony blinked in surprise. “Do they know about Spider-Man?”

Peter shook his head. “N-no, I don’t think so.”

Tony sighed in relief and kissed his forehead. “Okay. Okay, honey, let’s get you out of these.” He engaged his gauntlet and hugged Peter, pulling him away from the pole. A thin, red laser cut through his chains, controlled by Tony’s steadily careful hand. 

When he was free, the boy leaned forward and slumped against his strong chest, massaging his wrists. Tony gave a small gasp when he saw the red, bloody marks. “Oh, baby.” He rubbed the irritated skin of his wrist gently, then brought his hand up to his face and kissed the marks tenderly.

The boy leaned against him heavily, Tony’s worn, gentle hands combing through his hair. “Buddy, you can’t fall asleep just yet. We’ve gotta let Dr. Cho make sure you’re okay.”

Peter grumbled into his chest, rolling his eyes as Tony picked him up and carried him back into Stark Tower, telling FRIDAY to bring them up to the medbay where Dr. Cho would meet them. He protested vehemently to being carried into the medbay, but Tony didn’t let him down no matter how much he squirmed.

“You’ll need a straightjacket for him,” Tony advised as he lay Peter on the bed and sat next to him. 

Cho snorted quietly, hurrying forward. She wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm and placed her fingers on his wrist. “What happened?”

“Hydra happened,” Tony answered grimly. He shivered at the thought. His kid. His baby. Hydra. He pulled his kid close, squeezing him tight and pressing long kisses to the top of his head.

Peter blinked rapidly when Helen shined a light in his eye. Tony tenderly wiped away the tears brimming in his eyes from the bright light. 

His kid.


He could have been kidnapped, tortured, or worse-

No, don’t think of that. Don’t.

It wouldn’t happen, never, he wouldn’t allow it. It wasn’t possible.

Peter looked up at him, his big bambi eyes wide and innocent. “What’s wrong, Mr. Stark?”

“Nothing, bambino, it’s okay,” he murmured, caressing his cheek fondly. “I’m just glad you’re okay, sweetheart.”

“You’re right Tony, he’s doing great. A little bump on the head, and I’m going to put some ointment on his wrists just to make sure they heal up, but other than that he’s perfectly fine.”

Tony sighed in relief, and great weight lifting off his chest. In celebration he kissed Peter’s soft cheek and grinned, watching with an overprotective eye as Helen bandaged his wrists. 

“Mr. Stark. I’m okay,” the teen insisted. “You don’t have to worry.”

“I’ll always be worried about you, baby.”

“That’s a fact…. Uh, can we watch Hocus Pocus?” 

“Yeah, kiddie, of course we can.”




Taglist:  @imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute

If you want to be added/ removed let me know!

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Peter *after getting his wisdom teeth out*: fluffy sheep fluffy sheep fluffy fluffy fluffy sheep!!!
Peter: *gasps suddenly*
Tony *an overprotective dad™*: What's wrong?!?! Are you okay?!?!
Peter: *pointing to Tony's hair* Your hair... 's like a fluffy sheep!!!
192 notes · See All

Tony lay in bed, Starkpad resting on his lap as he scrolled through countless notifications and voicemails. Trash. Trash. Trash again.

Glancing at the clock, he realized it was already two a.m. 

Time sure flies when you’re having fun, he thought sarcastically.

He rubbed his sore neck absentmindedly, blinking wearily. He had to get some sleep. Tony shifted his pillow, shutting off his Starkpad, yawning. 

And then a scream, Peter’s scream, sliced through the air.

Tony was sprinting out the door before he knew it, his suit forming around him and he crashed into Peter’s room. He held up his repulsor frantically, ready to blast any intruder. 

But Peter was alone, whimpering and sobbing, tangled in his blankets. Hurriedly the inventor disengaged his gauntlet, almost falling in his haste to get to his kid. 

Tony gently shook Peter. “Kiddo, wake up! You’re okay, Petey, wake up. It’s not real, baby, you’re okay. Can you open those baby brown eyes for me?”

Carefully he gathered Peter in his arms, rubbing his back. “Baby, you’re okay, just wake up, you’re okay. I’m here, I’m not gonna let anything hurt you.”

With a sudden gasp, Peter’s eyes flew open. At first he struggled weakly before he realized who was holding him. “M-mister Stark?” he choked, tears pooling in his eyes.

“No, no, shh, baby, don’t cry,” Tony comforted, cupping his cheek, pressing a firm kiss to his forehead. “I got you, munchkin, you’re okay, shh, shh.”

“Mr. Stark- the building, the building- Mr. Stark!”

“Oh, baby, what do you mean?” he cooed. “What building, sweetheart?”

Peter sniffed and buried his face in Tony’s shoulder. “I-I… when I fought the V-Vulture… um, he dropped a w-warehouse on me, and I keep have nightmares and I-I’m so tired-”

He stopped when he noticed the pure horror on Tony’s face. “W-what?”

“B-but, I got out, Mr. Stark, don’t worry!” he cried, eyes widening. “It wasn’t your fault!”

But the inventor didn’t seem to hear him. “You got a building dropped on you?!”

“Y-yeah Mr. Stark. But it’s okay-”

“No, no no no, it’s not okay, what- what the fuck?!” Hysteria creeped into Tony’s voice. “How did you get out?! Were you hurt?!”

“I-I just pushed it off me! I didn’t really get hurt- I mean it was super scary, though.”

Peter felt Tony’s breathing speed up erratically, his heartbeat going insane. “You-you pushed it off you- oh my god, oh my god. Oh Peter. Fuck, I’m so sorry, baby.”

“No, it’s not your fault, Mr. Stark! You didn’t know!”

Thoughts were racing through Tony’s head at the speed of light. 

Oh god it’s all my fault 

Peter Peter Peter I’m so sorry I’m so sorry 

Oh god what if he didn’t get out what if he didn’t get out-

Nonono not that don’t think about that

“I’m so sorry, god, it’s all my fault,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry.” 

What if he had lost his kid that day oh god no no no please

“Mr. Stark!” Peter half-laughed, worried. “I told you, it’s not your fault! I got out, I’m fine! You didn’t know.”

“Oh god.” Tony crushed Peter to his chest, burying his face in the boy’s soft curls. “Oh Peter.”

“Mr. Stark!” he gasped. “I can’t breathe!”

Immediately he loosened his arms, though he still gripped his kid tightly. “Sorry, bambino. I’m sorry.”

“Mr. Stark, I know this is gonna sound a lot like you, but,” he deepened his voice exaggeratedly, “Tony, it’s okay. There’s no reason to be sorry.”

Tony chuckled, his voice wet and on the verge of tears. “Jesus, kiddo.” He kissed Peter’s curls. 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said, suddenly serious, “You’re blaming yourself.”

Tony sighed. “You’re right. I am.”

He expected Peter to go on a long rant about why he was wrong, which Tony wouldn’t believe in the slightest. 

Instead, Peter began his sentence rather absentmindedly. 

“Do you remember the Stark Expo?”

He blinked. “Yeah, kiddo, I’ll never forget it.”

“Okay…” Peter smiled. “Okay, do you remember…” he laughed nervously. “Do you remember a little kid in an Iron Man mask?”

“Yeah…” he replied thoughtfully. “What are you implying, Petey?”

Peter gave a sheepish expression. “Uh, that was me.”

Tony choked on his own spit. “What?!”

“Yup. I came to see you with Aunt May and Uncle Ben, but…”

Things didn’t go as planned.

“Anyway,” he laughed, “I, like, didn’t take that helmet off for weeks! Except for eating. But I tried to sleep with it on, once! It fell off in the middle of the night, though.”

He still hadn’t processed the fact that Peter was the little boy in that helmet, but of course it was. Who else would make such a dumb, reckless, incredibly brave move?

Nobody else but his kid. 

He was horrified to imagine what would have happened if he hadn’t been there in time. Horrified to think that Peter might not have been there in his arms. 

But he was. He was cradled tight in Tony’s arms, living, breathing, warm.

Tony kissed Peter’s forehead. 


Tag List: @imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace

If you want to be added/ removed, let me know!



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Chapter 1.

TW: Mentions of needles, mentions of death

Peter spun and dodged the villain’s hit, aiming a web for the wall. He scrambled up and jumped on the man, prying the knife from his hands. 

“Hey, buddy! It’s not nice to play with knives! I think we learned that in kindergarten,” he shouted.

“I assume you did,” the man grunted, kicking Peter in the chest. “But I took a much more interesting course.”

“Oh?” he gasped, staggering to his feet. “What would that be?” 

He smiled wickedly, his teeth sharp and pointed. “Magic.”

He stepped forward, his hands moving in a circular motion, a red light spinning between them. “I apologize, child. You don’t deserve this.”

Peter was engulfed in red. His chest felt heavy and the air left his lungs.

He crumpled to the ground, and everything went dark. 


Tony couldn’t describe the terror he felt when he found his kid lying on the ground in an empty alleyway, limp and still. 

“Peter!” he cried, scrambling to him and falling to his knees. “Peter! Kiddo, wake up!” He frantically felt for a pulse. “Thank god,” he whispered, as steady thumps met his fingers. 

Carefully Tony pulled off his mask, stroking Peter’s cheek. “C’mon, Petey, wake up. You’re scaring me, kiddo. C’mon.” 

He pulled his kid onto his lap, cradling him against his chest. Worry flooded through him at how pale Peter looked. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s time to wake up now.” 

Peter’s button nose scrunched up as Tony kissed it. He groaned slightly and blinked. “Miss’r Stark?” 

Tony smiled comfortingly, relief flooding through him. “I’m right here, kiddo. You’re okay. It’s okay, Petey, can you open those big brown eyes for me? There you go, baby.”

He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. “Where are you?”

Tony frowned. “I’m right here, mimmo. I’m here.”

Peter’s eyes searched blankly for him, and Tony had a moment of heart-wrenching fear. “Why’s it so dark?”

He stared at his kid, horror flooding through him. “Petey? Kiddo, can you see this?” He put his hand directly in front of his face. 

“See what, Mr. Stark?”

Keep reading

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They immediately break up in the next run

They were a fun couple and them being together made Ultron mad so it was great.

I’m just slightly amused that one of the few things not snapped back to quo ends up undone by the next writer anyway.

It kind of tempers my frustration with the major snapback at the end of this book. And makes me more frustrated at the cancel and relaunch style at Marvel.

In my Avengers liveblog I’ve just gotten to the point where Roger Stern has to pick up Jim Shooter’s dangling plot threads and he does a good job! He finishes up the arc in a satisfying manner that makes it clear he familiarized himself with what had been happening.

It’s a lost art, I think.

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@whumptober2020 - day 17: Wrongfully accused
@tonystarkbingo​ - 4090 - T4: Resolve
[fill details below the cut]

Based on the AU where Iron Man’s identity is still secret, and he runs around blowing up (illegal) SI weaponry and/or trying to get evidence against Stane.
[Also on AO3]

Doesn’t matter how I make things clear
You say it’s my fault that we’ve ended up here
“Hear, hear
“The threat of the year”
Well, if that’s how you want it, I’ll be what you fear 

Doesn’t matter what proof I show
You’ll only see what you think you know
No, no
So I’ll give it a go
If it’s pointless to fight it, I’ll go with the flow 

Doesn’t matter how hard I try
The truth is a story you’ll never buy
So bye-bye
I’m becoming your lie
How dare you stand there asking me why 

Then let me be evil
Let me be what you think me to be
From now I’ll be evil
Regardless, it’s all that you’ll see 

Let me be evil
I’ll be what you want me to be
So, fine, I’ll be evil
You created your own enemy
Prepare to rue the day you crossed me

Keep reading

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Day 3: Herb Garden - Morgan (751 womp womp)

The hem of her dress drags through soft black dirt, still damp from when mom watered it this morning. It’s perfect. She digs in both hands like she’s pulling back a heavy blanket and uncovers a writhing metropolis of fat squishy worms. She plucks free two and tosses them into her cauldron then, using her good stirring stick, churns the muddy slop within.

Still too soupy.

She rips free some long grass and breathes it in deep. It smells like mom’s favorite tea. She leaves it long like spaghetti and stirs it in.

Hmmm. She peers into the cauldron and considers the slick mass of mud, plants, and sticks. The gem from her Sophia the First amulet winks at her before disappearing into the sludge.

Needs more color.

The red berries mom and dad like are ripe and only squish a little as she slides them off the bush until her fist is bulging with them. A few slip from between her fingers and are crushed under bare feet before she gets them into her cauldron.

There. It’s perfect.

“Morgan Stark!”

She jumps and whirls around, dress slinging mud as her feet slip and mud squishes between her toes. Mom is standing with her hands on her hips and a pinched expression as she takes in the garden.

“What…” she sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose like she does when dad’s projects leave the garage and have to be rounded up and put back before they break anything. “My garden,” she eventually says. “Your costume.”

Morgan looks down at her mud-drenched witch’s dress and then around at the slushy mud littered with footprints and the remains of the plants that she fed into her cauldron. Honestly it looks better than when she started. A proper witch’s garden would never look so neat and orderly. The same goes for her clothes. Witches don’t care about clothes. They care about making potions and casting spells and petting cats.

She opens her mouth to say so but catches the upset line between mom’s eyebrows that usually happens while they’re watching Disney movies right before the sad parts.

“I’m sorry, mom,” she tells her muddy toes. “I just wanted a proper potion to go with my costume.”

Mom sighs and peeks into her cauldron. Her nose crinkles. “It’s a very nice potion, pumpkin, but let’s save these little guys before they drown.”
She makes a face as she plucks out the worms and sets them under the good smelling long grass then wipes her fingers clean on the regular grass.

“Worms can drown?”

“That’s why they all come out of the ground and sleep on the driveway when it rains.”

“Oh, I didn’t want to drown anybody.” She frowns at the worms but they’re already burrowing back into the ground.

“They’ll be okay. This is a wonderful potion, Miss Morguna, but where are you going to put your candy?”

She frowns at her cauldron. The orange plastic jack ‘o lantern is covered in muddy hand prints but that’s fine with her. It looks more real that way. Witches don’t have pretty plastic pumpkins as cauldrons but she had to use what she could find. But she doesn’t want her potion to get all over her candy…

“Petey can carry it?”

Mom smiles. “I suppose he can. How about I get a bag while you see if your dad can clean you up before Petey gets here.”

“But it’s part of my costume! I’m a swamp witch!”

Her lips pinch and she shakes her head but she says, “We’ll see what dad says. First, we need to hose your feet before you track all over the house.”

Half an hour later, the mud is dried to flaking dirt as she leaps onto Petey and wraps her arms around his neck.

“Careful! She’s covered in dirt,” Mom calls out from the porch.

“Oh perfect,” Petey says, hugging her back. “My zombie costume was sorely lacking in the dirt department. I think I could use some more even.” 

He wiggles and swings her back and forth.

She screams, slapping at his arms and giggling. “Stop it! You’re taking all of it!”

“Aww, okay. I’ll get my own dirt I guess, but it’s not going to be as good as yours.”

“Well of course not. Mine’s real witch garden dirt and yours is just normal.”

“Of course,” Petey echoes, grinning. “You ready for candy? I have a whole route mapped out for us.”

“Yeah! Lemme grab my potion!”


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Little heads-up: There’s swearing in this.

Peter fucked up.

“You’re not my father!”

Like, really fucked up.

“You’re not a superhero! How dare you tell me I’m nothing without my suit, when it’s really you who would be nothing without that armor!”

No one in the history of fucking up has ever fucked up as much as Peter.

“You said you’re done making war by selling your weapons, but you just traded one weapon for a different one! You’re not helping anyone!”

Peter deeply regrets saying any of those things, but he has been so incredibly angry when Tony scolded him for going after that drug ring he spent months working on, claiming that it’s too far out his neighborhood, ordering him to stop, threatening to tell May if he didn’t listen. And Peter snapped, feeling transported back all those months ago to the ferry and how Tony kept him out of what’s going on – and that thought hurt so, so much.

After all the time they spent together, Peter thought they would be past that particular I’m-not-telling-you-what’s-happening-and-keeping-you-out-of-the-loop stage. That hurt fueled the anger he felt over literally months of his efforts being thrown away, and he just wanted to hurt Tony back, to make him feel the same pain he was feeling in that moment, so he spit out the most hurtful words he could think of, not caring if they were actually true or not.

Tony’s face went completely blank, and he raised his head, standing tall and his shoulders pulled back, looking absolutely untouched by Peter’s words – which, of course, made him only angrier, causing him to spit out even nastier stuff.

When Peter was standing in the penthouse, breathing heavily with anger, Tony gave him a hard look and asked: “You done?” Peter clenched his teeth and fists together. Tony took that as a yes. “Go.” Without giving him a second look, Tony slipped his glasses on his face before turning around and walking down the hallway, not caring at all for Peter and his anger.

Since then, a few weeks have passed, and with every day that passed, Peter felt worse and worse about his angry outburst, his initial anger about the entire situation evaporating after a few hours. Less than 24 hours after Tony told him to drop his investigation in the drug ring, the news of the police arresting pretty much everyone of said drug ring were everywhere. Peter kinda thought Tony would demand the suit back, but he didn’t.

Instead, there’s absolute radio silence between them.

When it was the day of their usual lab sessions, Karen informed Peter that Tony canceled – not only that appointment, but every single one for the next two months. Peter isn’t getting random texts from Tony anymore, no reaction at all to any of the reports he sends him, and when Peter tries calling him, FRIDAY tells him that Tony is too busy to answer. Even though she promises to let her creator know that Peter called, Tony never calls back.

Peter goes as far as asking Happy about it. “He’s busy,” the man answers, obviously uncomfortable and very clearly lying about it. “He’s got a company to run and there are the amendments for the Accords and the entire Avengers Initiative. It’s a lot.” Tony had to do all of those things before, too, but he always made time to at least chat for a few minutes with Peter.

Which means Tony obviously doesn’t want to see him.

And that hurts a hundred times more than Tony telling him to not get involved with those drug dealers.

Peter knows he has to apologize. There’s no way around it, not if he wants to repair what he has broken. But the big problem is how he’s gonna do that, seeing as Tony clearly doesn’t want to talk to him. He asked Happy, Pepper, and Rhodey for their help, but that has been fruitless. FRIDAY fed him some lie (he wasn’t aware the AI could actually lie) about the next free slot being next year.

He actually thinks about making an official appointment with Tony, but there are several problems. For one, not just anyone can make an appointment with Tony Stark, especially without a good reason and on short notice. Besides, he needs to give his name and show his ID – Peter is pretty sure that FRIDAY would interject as soon as she sees his name. Or, like, his face in the lobby. There’s the option of using that hatch Tony built into the windows of Peter’s room in the penthouse (with a stab in his chest, Peter wonders if it’s still his room or if Tony already turned into, like, a home gym or something), but he’s pretty sure Tony wouldn’t appreciate him breaking in. Or FRIDAY would simply lock the hatch.

So, while he tries to come up with a way to get in contact with his (former?) mentor, he’s watching Tony’s Instagram story – a “spontaneous” Ask Me Anything game that has been scheduled months ago (which Tony only accepted because Peter talked him into it). More than a couple of times he’s tempted to send in an ask, but he’s pretty sure Tony wouldn’t answer that as well. While watching Tony laugh and smile at the camera, sitting in his lab with DUM-E and U next to him, a very familiar holo-screen with some mindless but important looking diagram in the background, Peter tries to sooth his aching heart and curses that it’s so difficult to get a hold of one of the smartest people in the world who doesn’t want to talk to you.

About a week later, there’s an opportunity, and Peter doesn’t hesitate a second to grab it.

He’s on his way back from school, when he sees the news alert on his phone – a hostage situation in Manhattan, and Iron Man just arrived at the scene. Never before has Peter changed into his suit that fast.

It takes him only a couple of minutes to arrive at the scene. It’s in an office building up on the highest floor, and as far as Karen told him, there are three hostage takers and about twelve hostages. The hostage takers blocked the exits and apparently hid a bomb somewhere.

Getting into the building is no problem – he simply swings through the hole in the window Tony crashed through when he arrived. Speaking of Tony, he doesn’t seem the least bit surprised to see Peter; FRIDAY probably warned him.

“Mr. Stark, I -”

“Get them out of here,” Tony orders, not even looking at him.

For the fraction of a second, he thinks about protesting, but getting the hostages out of dangers is the priority. Peter sticks to the outside of the building and sticks a web the them before telling them to jump one by one, breaking their fall in time for them to land safely on the sidewalk. He doesn’t allow himself to relax for a single second, because he hears gun shots going off from inside the building. Swinging back inside, he races towards the noises, seeing how the criminals keep firing bullets at the Iron Man armor, while Tony is calmly working on the bomb, seemingly absolutely unbothered by their attacks.

Well, Peter is pretty bothered by it.

He catches the first two by surprise, snatching away their guns and webbing them against the wall. When he turns towards the third one, he’s already staring at the gun, and a second later, Peter has to dodge a storm of bullets. Just when he manages to rip the gun away from the criminal, a sharp pain rips through Peter’s thigh, making him clench his teeth and driving tears in his eyes. Peter ignores the pain, pinning the man against the next wall.

Just then, Tony stands up. “The situation is clear,” he says, his back still turned to Peter.

Peter nods, before he remembers that Tony can’t see it. “Mr. Stark, can I-”

“Police should get up here any moment, you can go now,” he interrupts him, stomping over to one of the windows, already getting into the air.

Peter cannot let this opportunity slip through his fingers. “Please wait!” He hurries after Tony, ignoring the biting pain in his leg, but just when he arrives at the window, Tony flies out of it. “Please! I want to apologize!”

Tony isn’t stopping, so Peter doesn’t stop either. He jumps out of the window and manages to shoot a web against the Iron Man armor, literally sticking to him.

Tony slightly turns his head to him, as if to make sure that FRIDAY really is telling the truth when she said he has some stowaway. “Go home.”

“No! Not before I apologized!”

Clearly, Tony doesn’t want to hear it. He turns back around and flies in a zigzag line, trying to shake Peter off. But Peter is stubborn, he holds on as tight as he can. Then, his leg hits the wound on his other leg, and Peter can’t help but cry out as a wave of blinding pain shoots through him, almost making him let go of the web.

Suddenly, they slow down, and just when Peter’s head clears enough to notice his surroundings again, his feet touch solid ground. They landed on a rooftop, far above the rest of the city.

But he’s even more surprised that Tony is facing him. “You got shot?” the man asks, and his helmet folds away, showing the face Peter hasn’t seen in person for weeks, and even though there are those special angry wrinkles on Tony’s face that always mean he’s in trouble, Peter couldn’t be more relieved.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he starts, not wasting a single second with something as trivial as a gun shot wound. “Like, so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that stuff, it’s not true at all, not a word of it, but I was so angry-”

“You’ve been shot,” Tony says in a voice Peter can’t quite place. “That wound needs to be treated asap.”

“I didn’t mean any of it, I swear, but I-” Peter takes a step forward, but in his haste to get closer to Tony, he forgot about the wound. As soon as he puts any pressure on the leg, a new wave of pain surges through his entire body, making him cry out again and before he knows it, he’s on the ground, face against the rough surface (that pain pales in comparison to the pain from his leg).

However, a pair of strong hands turn him around and he looks up into Tony’s face. “You need to see Helen,” he says, pressing a hand against the wound to stop the bleeding, his eyes turning apologetic as Peter hisses in pain.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter repeats again. His thoughts get muddled with pain and the need to fix the situation because he needs to fix this so bad. Suddenly feeling stuffed under his mask, he pushes it off, not afraid that someone sees his face this far up. Tears are rolling down his cheeks, but he can’t tell if they’re because of the pain or the panic inside him. “Please, Mr. Stark, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, any of it!”

“Peter, you need to focus on the wound, everything else can wait.”

“No, it can’t! I need you to know-”

“I forgive you, okay? Now, let’s get-”

“You’re my hero,” Peter interrupts him, not really liking how shaky his voice is right now but he has no control over it between all the pain, the blood loss, and the burning, life-consuming need to fix this. “You always have been, long before you became Iron Man. And-And you don’t need that armor, not at all, because you have your brain and that’s so much more worth than that armor. Your brain and your heart, because you do care so much. Like, I don’t think I ever saw anyone who wanted to help everyone as bad as you do, and you do it without caring about what it costs you, no matter if money or time or your life! Iron Man is- No, Tony Stark is the best superhero there is and there will ever be.”

Tony just stares at him, eyes full of something Peter doesn’t recognize. He gets more and more drowsy with each breath he takes, but he has to push through it – he’s not done yet. “You’re not my father, I know that, but-but you are so important to me, Mr. Stark. Like… Like you’re part of my family. And I hate myself for hurting you so much. I didn’t mean any of it and I was so stupid for saying all of that. Please, I didn’t mean it. Not at all.” Peter’s words turn into slurs, his tongue and eyelids growing heavy. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please…” His eyes fall shut and he can’t open them again.

There’s a hand cased in metal against his cheeks. “Kid? Kid, open your eyes!”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Peter, look at me. Hey! Shit. Peter!”

“Please…” Peter mumbles, Tony screaming his name turning into white noise as everything around him turns black.

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The Friendly Neighborhood Exchange

By @spooderboyandtincan for @iloveirondad

Rating: Not Rated

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, May Parker & Tony Stark, Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & The Avengers, James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers, James “Rhodey” Rhodes & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Harley Keener, May Parker, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), The Avengers, Clint Barton, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, James “Bucky” Barnes

Summary: Unbeknownst to Tony, Harley is bullying his kid. 

Ao2 Link: Here

A/N: @iloveirondad Thank you so much for the prompt! It was so fun to write!

Peter couldn’t remember when he started referring to Tony as “Dad” in his head. But he could count on one hand the times he had actually called Tony that.

The first three times they had brushed it off, Peter blushing a dark red, Tony smiling into his palm and tears blooming in the corners of his eyes.

The fourth time, Peter lay in the medbay with a white bandage wrapped around his head and Mr. Stark clutching his hand tightly, and he had called him Dad. Tony had teared up (and began to cry) and said he would love it if Peter called him dad.

Peter had it all planned out. It was all he could think about the entire day, even in science when he was reprimanded for not paying attention. He’d jump into the car, grin, and say “Hi, Dad! Guess what score I got on the science quiz!”

He felt a warm rush every time he thought of it. 

Peter rushed out of the school, shouting a quick goodbye to Ned. He flung the car door open. “Hi, D- oh. Happy? Umm, h-hi.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, kid,” said the driver. Peter shut the passenger door, sighing, and opened the back door. 

“Where’s Mr. Stark?” he asked. 

Happy met his eyes in the mirror. “Boss is at the penthouse. He has somebody he wants you to meet.”

Well, that sure cleared things up, Peter thought. Was it a doctor? A therapist? A scientist? His evil clone?

When he arrived at the penthouse, he wasn’t met with an insane doctor trying to kill his mentor with a bludgeon, just Tony and a kid sitting at the kitchen island, drinking strong coffee.

A kid.

A young man, he corrected himself. He was tall, far taller than Tony and much taller than Peter, with his hair wavy and styled with what must have been copious amounts of hair gel. He wore a red flannel shirt with sleeves he’d buttoned at the elbow, and ragged, torn up jeans with gray sneakers.

“Pete!” Tony exclaimed, jumping up to giving him a quick side hug and ruffling his hair. “Hey, buddy. How was school?”

“Fine. Who’s that?”

At his dreary response, Tony’s eyes glinted with worry. “This is Harley, kiddo. He’s staying here while he looks at colleges. And Harley, this is Peter.” 

The young man, Harley, stepped forward, extending his hand. “Hey, Peter. Nice to finally meet you.”

Peter shook his hand and smiled, joining him at the kitchen island. “Nice to meet you too!” 

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” said Harley. “And I mean a lot.” He glanced towards Tony, who was bustling around, making hot chocolate and cider and getting snacks, oblivious. “It’s all he ever talks about. ‘Peter did this, Peter did that, guess what Peter’s doing right now.’” Harley rolled his eyes. “It gets pretty annoying, to be honest.”

“O-oh. Sorry?” Ouch. 

“Eh. I can tolerate him,” he shrugged. Peter glanced down at the table, running his finger across the lines in the wood. They sat together, the only sounds coming from the clinking of a spoon against a pan as Tony made hot chocolate.

“So what are you?” Harley whispered suddenly, leaning forward. “His secret kid?”

He blinked. “No, no, um… I’m just his intern. Personal intern.” The lie sounded forced, even to him. He was Tony’s kid, biological or not.

“Right,” the young man said skeptically. Peter looked at the table awkwardly, before a plate of cookies was placed in front of him. 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.” Peter grinned.

“Of course, bud.” Tony pulled up a stool next to him, and Peter felt a warm hand on his back. He grabbed a cookie (double chocolate-chip) and sipped his mug of hot chocolate.

“It’s September,” Harley said suddenly. 

“Indeed it is,” Tony replied, not looking up from the plate of cookies, hand hovering above them while he tried to decide which one he would take.

“So why are you drinking hot chocolate?” He looked at Peter, frowning and perplexed, like Peter had performed some unspeakable offense.

He blushed and took a large drink from his mug. “It-it’s just cold out. Y’know.” 

Plus, he couldn’t thermoregulate. Most days he would do anything to get warm. Besides stealing Tony and Ned’s sweatshirts, he could (and would) down ten cups of hot chocolate in a single sitting.

Tony immediately jumped to his defense, sensing Peter’s discomfort at Harley’s not-so-kind words. He stood up and poured another cup for himself, looking Harley directly in the eye. “Cheers.” 

Tony hid his smile behind the mug when Harley looked at him like You too?


“So, Tony, what have you been doing?” asked Harley. “I haven’t heard much about you, just Peter.”

The older man chuckled, twisting spaghetti between his fork and spoon. “Superhero duties keep me pretty busy, kid. Not much else to talk about.” 

Harley scoffed. “Yeah, right. All those ‘superhero duties,’ and you have the time to… you can spend time with your personal intern?” He gestured to Peter. 

Peter knew without looking that there was a tension in Tony’s shoulders, knew that every single instinct in him was screaming ‘protect Peter.’

I don’t need protecting.

But before Peter could say anything, Tony spoke up. “Maybe you can tell us?” he joked, keeping his tone light. “You seem pretty interested in my personal life.”

Harley pursed his lips and frowned. “I was just curious.”

Tony nodded but stayed silent, though he reached out to pat Peter’s back gently. Harley did seem oddly fascinated with Tony’s personal life and his relationship with Peter.

But who would blame him for being curious? 

“Maybe that’s enough about me,” Tony said, trying to keep the air light. “Harley, how have you been?”

The other man snorted. “Boring. My sis just started high school, Mom got a new job, and I have a month till graduation.”

“That’s so cool!” Peter exclaimed, eyes lighting up. “What college do you wanna go to?”

“Anywhere away from Tennessee. Can’t wait to get out of that shit-hole.”

“Watch your language, there’s a kid.” Tony was only half-teasing. He covered Peter’s ears. “You may proceed, young sir.”

Peter shook Tony’s hands off his ears, though he could still hear perfectly fine. “I’ve always wanted to go to MIT! Do you think you might go there?”

“I told ya, kid, anywhere away from my house.”


Peter held back a gasp as thunder and rain pounded in his ears. Ow ow ow.

His attempts were useless, however, as Harley snorted and rolled his eyes, “Aww, you scared?” 

Peter frowned at Harley’s sudden change in mood. “N-no.” He winced, both at the thunder and the way his voice cracked. “No. I’m not scared.”

It just hurts.

Peter listened carefully for Tony’s heartbeat, hoping the man would come to calm his nerves, but the storm had completely drowned him out. Even with his super-hearing he could only hear the pounding rain.

Tony had been dragged to a meeting by Pepper, who claimed his presence was absolutely necessary. He had hoped Peter and Harley could spend some “bonding time” together, but that wasn’t going too well. 

It wasn’t going well at all. 

Peter would give anything for Mr. Stark to realize that he needed him. 

“Christ, what are you, a baby?” Harley snapped as Peter flinched. “Does Tony have to deal with this shit?”

Peter hid his face in his knees. You’re stronger than this. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry. He squeezed his eyes shut, but one pearly tear slipped out. 

Tony had seen him cry, more times to count, and always he was soft and gentle and kissed his temple, and wouldn’t let go of Peter.

“You crying, sweetheart?” Harley mocked, his voice high pitched and false. “Shit, you’re such a disappointment.”

Stop it stop it stop it. Harley’s words tore at his heart. Stop talking.

“Actual question, though,” he smirked. “Does Tony even care? It has to be a charity event, right?”

Tears leaked from Peter’s eyes. “No.”

Tony loved him, and had told him countless times how much. Tony loved him more than anything.

But Harley’s words drummed into his mind. He couldn’t help the tiny, almost unnoticeable sliver of doubt creep into his head.

Tony loved him. 


“Lemme break it to you Parker.” Suddenly Harley’s hand was squeezing his shoulder almost unbearably tight. “He doesn’t care.  He doesn’t care. Trust me, it’s for publicity, and I know it. I know him.”

Tony would never, ever lie to him.

“Don’t touch me,” Peter whispered weakly. “You’re lying.”

“I’m doing you a favor, Parker you know that? You’re just a naïve little kid.” He squeezed his shoulder again. Peter was sure he had finger-print shaped bruises forming on his skin. “You don’t know anything.”

No no no Tony-

With that, Harley flopped back on the couch, winking maliciously at the other boy, and turning on the tv. Peter buried his head between his knees, trying to hide himself in the cushions. 

Tony loved him. Peter was going to call him Dad.

“Hey, bud, what’s up?” 

Peter jumped when Mr. Stark’s figure suddenly appeared in the doorway. Though he glanced down the moment Tony’s eyes met his, he could see the flash of worry and parental panic on his face at his tears.

“Hey, hey, oh no,” Tony murmured, rushing to his side. He squeezed next to him in the armchair and cupped his cheek with warm, gentle fingers, wiping his tears away. “No, honey, what’s wrong? Shh. Are you hurt? Do you feel bad?”

Peter shook his head frantically, not wanting to cause anymore heat between Harley and himself. Tony smiled warmly, though his eyes were worried and he was desperate to help his kid. “Really, bud? ‘Cause it sure doesn’t look like that.”

He glanced nervously at Harley, who sent him a warning glare.

“I’m fine.”

Tony sighed. Peter held back a gasp when he turned to Harley. “Kid, do you know what happened?” 

The young man stood, faux worry crossing his face. “No. I have no idea. Is he okay?”

Another sigh rustled Peter’s curls. He blinked back tears, sensing how distraught Tony would be seeing him cry. 

He slipped out of his hold and ran.



Tony’s day, which had been going surprisingly well, upended the moment he got an alert from his AI.

The alert filled the screen of his phone when he picked it up, not that he wouldn’t have noticed anything that read ‘Peter’s emotional distress rate at 7/10 and rising.’

Of course, how could he have been so stupid? Peter’s senses must have been going insane while the storm pounded outside. Tony ran for the door, his chair falling back in the process.

Ignoring the exclamations of the old geezers behind him (“Stark, where do you think you’re going?”) he rushed up the stairs, knowing the elevator would take far too long. 

“Hey, bud, what’s up?” he asked, attempting to hide his concern as he glanced at his kid, who was curled in an armchair with his head between his knees. 


When Peter looked up, Tony had just enough time to see his red eyes and the shiny tear tracks on his face.

“Hey, hey, oh no,” he cooed, hugging Peter tightly with one hand and wiping his tears away with the other. “No, honey, what’s wrong? Shh. Are you hurt? Do you feel bad?”

Tony’s worry was only slightly assuaged when Peter shook his head, because it was obvious his kid wasn’t okay.

“Really, bud? ‘Cause it sure doesn’t look like that.” Please, baby, tell me what’s wrong.

“I’m fine.” 

Tony sighed. Oh, buddy. Hoping to retrieve some information to why his kid was so riled up, because sensory overloads always left him clinging to Tony, not shying away.

Something must have happened, and it terrified him.

“Kid, do you know what happened?” 

“No. I have no idea. Is he okay?” Harley stood up, biting his lip and looking worried.  

He glanced back to the boy, and was shocked when he flinched, and then broke from his hold and ran.

“Peter!” Tony jumped up to follow his kid. 

“Pete, open the door, please,” he begged, knocking on the wood. “Let me help you, buddy, c’mon. Please.”




He tested the doorknob and was surprised to find it wasn’t locked. “Petey, I’m gonna come in, just to check on you, okay?”

The door swung open and Tony stepped inside and-

The room was empty.

The window was wide open, curtains whipping back and forth in the wind, raindrops falling on the window sill.

He dashed to the window and leaned out, shielding his eyes from the rain. “Peter?!” He squinted, desperately trying to find the form of his precious spider-kid. 


“Already on it, boss,” said the AI. “Tracking Peter.”

Tony barely noticed when the suit formed around him, too distracted by FRIDAY’s voice. 

“Boss, I am unable to find Peter’s location.”

“Try again, call him,” he ordered, blasting straight through the window, glass shattering around him. 

The phone rang.

And rang.

And rang.

“Boss, he didn’t answer-”

“Try again.” He searched the tops of the buildings and the alleyways frantically, his suit focusing on every heat signature and determining it wasn’t his kid.

Please, please, please be okay, Peter

The call rang. Peter didn’t pick up.

I’m coming Petey, I’ll find you


A small figure with a bright blue hoodie.



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