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miraculousluvbug · 3 years

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WINGLESS | Ch. 2

***WARNING: Season 4 Spoilers Ahead

***New to Wingless? Start at Chapter 1!

CH. SUMMARY: Of all the people Rena could let slip that she knows Ladybug's identity in front of . . . it had to be Chat Noir.

< < < THREE MONTHS AGO < < <

Ladybug swung from building to building, the exhilaration of a job well done fueling the fire in her veins. Traffic it would seem had resumed immediately, the sounds of wheels on pavement and cars obnoxiously honking ricocheting throughout the city’s architecture. This didn’t surprise Ladybug, seeing as the city had grown quite accustomed to akumas blocking the roads. Once the tips of her toes touched a rooftop, it wasn’t long before she was joined by another pair of boots.

“That went well,” commented Ladybug as she swiveled to face her teammate.

Rena Rouge folded her arms across her chest and popped a hip, lips puckered in a frown. “Are you kidding, girl?”

Ladybug’s face fell. No, she wasn’t kidding. She honestly had felt it went well. Was she missing something? Did a disaster strike while she was focused on her lucky charm? Had her Miraculous ladybugs not corrected all of the damage? Were there civilians hurt somewhere--

Abruptly, Rena clapped her hands on Ladybug’s shoulders and squealed, putting a halt to Ladybug’s internal meltdown. “That went amazing! We’re like a well-oiled machine, you and me. I still can’t believe I get to do superhero stuff!” At the sound of Alya’s impromptu shrieking, some pigeons nearby took flight, cooing what Ladybug imagined was a bird version of crotchety old people grumbling. Not even the least bit deterred, Rena leaned forward into Ladybug’s personal bubble, eyes wide with excitement. “But what I really can’t believe is that I’m doing it all with my best friend!”

Ladybug relaxed her posture and let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. But she quickly regretted it when she got a nice, big whiff of crepes, urine, and cigarette smoke. Ah, Paris. Home, sweet home. However, noticing her thoughts were veering dangerously offtrack, Ladybug shook herself mentally.

So nothing had gone wrong. Rena was just being Rena and drawing out the suspense. Ladybug patted her friend’s right hand--which was still firmly squeezing her shoulder--and smiled sweetly.

“It sure is convenient that I don’t have to hide from you anymore,” the spotted-heroine remarked. “I think half the time I took so long to get to a battle because I always had to come up with excuses.”

Rena grinned with a knowing glint in her eye. “I might be impressed if your excuses were actually good.”

Rolling her eyes, Ladybug turned away from Rena, causing Rena’s hands to fall to her sides. “Hey, you try having to come up with five hundred different reasons you have to flake on your friends and see if you fare any better.”

Rena was about to sass her best friend some more, but the words caught in her throat at the sight of Ladybug hugging herself. She recognized this stance. Ladybug’s head was in what Rena deemed the “Guilt Grotto.”

Rena stepped forward to wrap Ladybug in a warm, girl-you-better-get-your-head-out-of-the-guilt-grotto-or-I’ll-tickle-you embrace when there was movement across the rooftops in her periphery. She craned her head to the right to find the familiar silhouette of Chat Noir vaulting his way over, a goofy grin clearly plastered across his face the closer he got.

In a matter of seconds, he landed squarely beside Ladybug, startling her. Ladybug, the epitome of grace that she was, did a series of awkward hand gestures before falling back on her bum, shrieking.

Chat Noir didn’t even look a teeny bit remorseful.

“Looks like I got here just in time!” he quipped, bowing and sliding his baton back into place on his suit.

Rena held out a hand for her friend as Ladybug voiced her question: “In time for what?”

Chat bounced on the balls of his feet. “Well, for the akuma, of course! You guys were having a quick team meeting, right?”

Rena and Ladybug shared a look. So that’s what he was so happy about. Ladybug opened her mouth to reply, but Rena beat her to it.

“Actually, we already took care of the akuma.”

Chat Noir visibly deflated. His ears drooped and his belt tail started to swish back and forth. “Oh.” He turned to the edge of the rooftop and hunkered down, letting his legs kick to and fro in an attempt to get rid of some of the adrenaline.

Ladybug winced. Chat did not sound happy. Hesitantly, she sat next to him. Rena then took a seat beside her, making her the middle. “Sorry, Chat. I know you like battling akumas more than I do.”

Chat nodded before murmuring, “Thirteen.”

“Hm?” Ladybug scooted closer to him to hear him better, their legs nearly touching. She leaned to her right to get a better look at his face and tilted her head innocently. If she were Marinette then, she might have fallen off the rooftop altogether, but she was Ladybug, and Ladybug had way more poise.

Chat didn’t answer immediately. Whatever it was that he was about to say, Ladybug knew it must be something important if he, the guy who was always upfront about his feelings, found it difficult to say. The guy who told her . . .

It’s precisely when something is important that it’s important to say it.

No matter what.

Ladybug gingerly rested a hand on his arm, hoping he understood what the gesture meant. It’s okay. Take your time. I’m ready to listen.

After a few more moments of staring at his feet, Chat Noir lifted his head so his eyes bore into Ladybug’s. They creased with . . . Was that worry? Sadness? Fear?

“Thirteen,” he repeated, a bit louder. “That makes it thirteen times you and Rena have battled an akuma without me. Since Montparnasse Tower.”

Ladybug was speechless. As she stared ahead, eyes unfocused, she tried her hardest to recall all the akuma battles. It was challenging as her memory loved to fail her when she needed it most. Had he really not been in any of those battles? Had it really been thirteen times?

Had he . . . had he really been keeping count?

Ladybug didn’t know what to say, but she knew she had to say something, anything. But what could she say? Was she sorry?

No, she couldn’t be sorry that the akumas had been defeated, that the victims had been rescued, that she had been able to do so quickly because Alya had been spending a record amount of hours by her side.

She couldn’t be sorry about any of that. She was only sad that he felt sidelined.

That was not her intention.

But she knew what the solution to that was.

And she would rather die before she let Chat Blanc see the light of day.

Somehow, knowing her identity had led to him being akumatized. Somehow, whether it was in an alternate timeline or when their memories had been wiped by Oblivio, she knew that what he said at Montparnasse Tower--that to know him was to love him--was truth. And Chat Blanc had told her what their love did.

Their love destroyed the world.

Their love had killed her.

Their love broke the moon, for crying out loud.

But, most importantly, their love hurt him.

Chat Noir had told her he loved her, many times, and she had even been considering giving his pun-spurting, jokes-at-the-worst-times self a chance. But being forced into combat with her akumatized partner had violently squashed any hope she had for them, for LadyNoir as Alya coined it on her blog. Ladybug would be damned if she allowed that to happen again. And if that meant encouraging him to move on even though it broke her heart . . .

Well, it wasn’t supposed to be easy being a hero.

Ladybug had this entire conversation with herself in a matter of seconds. She was careful not to let her face expose any of her innermost feelings, instead sporting an expression of neutrality. What she ultimately decided to do was tell him the only truth she had to offer. He hated secrets and she hated lying. What a pair they made.

“I wish it could be different,” she whispered.

And oh, how she did. She desperately yearned to tell him who she was, to know who he was, to tell him about Alya and Nino and all the other people she had entrusted with a Miraculous.

She wanted him to know how she grew up, what kinds of things she did at school, how she was utterly ridiculous when it came to her rotten luck (and she tried very hard to push a certain blue-eyed blonde out of her head the moment that phrase came to mind). She was sure he would snicker at all the times she made a fool of herself in front of Adrien, of all the ways she made her own life a living hell with her clumsiness.

Or perhaps he wouldn’t laugh. Perhaps he would pat her shoulder and uplift her with words of encouragement. She didn’t know. After the stunt he pulled with the balcony of candle-lit roses, the boy was a wild card, an enigma. He was complex.

And it thrilled her.

But no matter how she felt about him, they couldn’t know each other that way.

Sighing quietly, Ladybug brought her knees up to her chest and turned away from Chat Noir. If she had been watching him when she responded, she might have seen him look longingly at her, but she didn’t.

Rena Rouge did, though.

Wanting to make her friends feel better, Rena added, “Don’t you worry your pretty kitty head about it. I’m sure all those battles would have taken way longer if we weren’t already together.”

Ladybug and Chat Noir both stiffened. Chat’s gaze flicked from Rena to his partner over and over before they finally rested on Ladybug. “Uh, what does she mean by that?”

Ladybug shot a glare in Rena’s direction, but her eyes softened when she saw that Rena genuinely appeared surprised.

He didn’t know? Rena’s eyes asked Ladybug.

He didn’t know, Ladybug’s affirmed.

One would think Rena was Lady Luck because her pendant had decided that that moment was the best time to beep, and she couldn’t agree more. Now she had an escape route from this conversation. “Welp,” she clapped her hands together, “I’m gonna go chill in that fine-lookin’ alley over there.”

Before Ladybug could agree, Rena sprang from her spot and promptly disappeared. She was a regular magician, and her latest trick was leaving Ladybug with a rabbit to put back in the hat.

Or, er--a cat back in the bag. Whatever.

“What she meant by that . . . ” Ladybug began slowly, like she was addressing a wounded animal. Which, maybe she was but just, you know, emotionally wounded.

“Yeah . . . ” prompted Chat, signalling that he was not going to drop this.

Ladybug quickly jumped to her feet and began her ritual of frantic pacing. “Look, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while, but I didn’t know how to because I knew it would raise questions that I couldn’t answer--”

A blonde boy in white leather with somber blue eyes appeared in front of her and she dug her heels into the cement, skidding to a stop.

Chat Noir was behind Ladybug now, his voice soft and curious. “Bug?”

Ladybug was frozen in place for a few more seconds before she shook her head hard enough to give herself shaken-baby syndrome and nodded, satisfied that the aggressive head-shaking had rid her of he who shall not be named. She whipped around and started.

Chat Noir was incredibly close.

She didn’t know he had gotten this close.

Geez, his eyes were really cat-like.

He also had a really cute nose--

Ladybug, FOCUS!

Ladybug took a step back. She made it her mission to ogle his bell instead of looking into his dumb kitten eyes. “You--” she began, but Ladybug’s throat was suddenly dry. She gulped. “You know how much I hate secrets and lying. And I know how much you hate secrets and lying. So I’m not going to lie to you. But I may not be able to answer the questions I’m sure you’ll have, so please . . . ”

Ladybug grabbed one of his hands then and held it firmly between her own, pleading with every fiber of her being that this would communicate how much he meant to her even though she knew what she was about to tell him would make it seem like he didn’t mean anything.

Please forgive me, Ladybug’s heart supplied.

When he didn’t immediately take his hand back, she looked up at him. She looked into those dumb kitten eyes and knew without a shadow of a doubt--

She was a masochist.

This was going to hurt. He didn’t like when she was the only one to know Rena’s identity. He definitely wasn’t going to like that Rena knew hers. This would be so much easier if she wasn’t ogling those big, emerald green, beautiful, brazenly dumb kitten eyes.

But she was a masochist. And she needed to see them while they still held love for her.

“I told Rena Rouge who I am.”

There. She ripped off the band-aid. Straight to the point. Zero room for interpretation. After all, her worst arguments started because of her clumsy miscommunication.

Ladybug braced herself for an explosion. She had played this moment in her head a couple hundred times since exposing herself to Alya.

Yelling. There was always yelling.

Sometimes, he stomped away while doing that weird T pose where his fists didn’t connect to his hips . . . a pose she herself was guilty of, too.

Others, he chastised her about her thoughtlessness--to which she responded that she definitely thought about it long and hard that day.

Ladybug braced herself for an explosion because she was sure there was going to be one, especially after seeing him upset about her always running off to Master Fu. He hadn’t even known there was a Guardian for a while.

What she hadn’t braced herself for was the expression on his face.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

His head was bowed.

His eyes were closed.

A lone tear slid down his cheek.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Her heart thudded against her ribcage, screaming at her to run because he wanted her Miracul--!

No! She refused to finish that thought.

Her head yelled back that he wasn’t akumatized right now, that she wasn’t back there, that she wasn’t with him. She desperately tried to shove the image from her mind. This was more than she could bear. She just--she couldn’t take it! She couldn’t take it because . . .

Because . . .

Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Because he looked just like him.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

He looked like Chat Blanc.

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

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It Takes Me All the Way

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “flower shop au” square. The following idea hit me in the head a couple of days ago & I couldn’t let it go until the whole thing was written. Here’s my bingo card - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!! Word Count: 11.5K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case?

Summary:

'For the next half an hour, Peter learned about flower language and the subtle way to artfully layer flowers so the colors blended meaningfully together. Peter didn’t retain too much about the flowers themselves – they were beautiful and coordinated perfectly, but Tony out shone them all. He was obviously in his element; the simple way the information fell from his mouth spoke of years of study and tons of hands-on knowledge. Not only was the man smart, he had an eye for style and created little living masterpieces without much thought.

By the time Peter worked up the courage to make any sort of move, they were at the register, seconds away from a complete transaction. He was in too deep to let the spark between them go another time. Steeling himself for whatever might come, Peter took a deep breath and leapt. “Hey, before I go – would you like to go out with me sometime?"'

Or: the one where Tony's a florist and Peter kind of digs that.

Read on AO3 here.

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After taking home the third, consecutive NCA Championship title, Peter craved a tame summer. Unlike the rest of his teammates, he had no dreams of furthering his cheerleading career by becoming a coach; while everyone else flocked to the NCA cheer champ coaching positions, Peter tried his hardest to create some distance between himself and the sport.

Of course, that was easier said than done when his very best friend was also a teammate. Since the day MJ pulled him off the gymnastics mat and thrust him not so gently into the world of cheer in seventh grade, Peter never looked back – not to gymnastics or the people he left behind. He didn’t naturally fit in with anyone, but with MJ by his side and an incredible amount of athleticism, high school passed by in a whirlwind of football games, competitions, and a rich education Peter clung to. Being smart was a way out of the conservative little town that would never accept the truth of who Peter truly was.

When Purdue became an option for the both of them, Peter immediately understood moving to Indiana was the next step in life’s adventure. It wasn’t the big city that he always imagined he’d escape to, but Peter couldn’t argue with a full ride academic scholarship and a spot earned on the cheer team. As a male with tumbling experience and a shocking amount of strength for his size, Peter didn’t have to wonder about his spot on the team – he’d been leading teams to competition wins for years. Stepping out of the narrow-minded world of Springfield, Missouri was the only thing that mattered; the ability to do what he wanted without worrying about where the money came from to do it – that was just a delightful bonus.

Despite the challenges of college athletics and a philosophy major, Peter managed to keep his close friendship with MJ. They’d been a stunting pair for ages and their similarities made it easy to not only be around each other but stay tight knit in their connection. Going through so many of the trials of growing up together, Peter didn’t know what life would be like without her. After coming out and receiving nothing but a hug and a shy “me too”, their bond was cemented – made permanent in a way that something shared tied one person to another.

Their undying friendship and ridiculous commitment to each other was how he found himself balls deep in wedding planning, instead of relaxing in the peace and quiet of his one-bedroom apartment, playing video games and reading all the books he didn’t get to crunch out during the busy school year. MJ didn’t even bother asking him to be her ‘man’ of honor – after popping the question to Darcy, she simply sent him a list of things to do and dove right in.

Between bachelorette parties, bridal showers, and the seemingly impossible hunt for the best bridesmaid’s dresses, Peter hadn’t spent more than a couple days of the break on his own. Though he loved the fuck out of MJ and her soon-to-be wife, he couldn’t wait for the wedding to come and go. A little peace and alone time was exactly what he needed.

Finally, after a week of long nights and last-minute errands, the big day was upon them. The beautiful ranch venue radiated with a rich sunshine, basking the place in a lucky sort of golden glow. Since he didn’t have to spend his entire morning trapped in a makeup chair, Peter got to enjoy the beautiful weather firsthand as he contributed to the set up and decorating. Aside from helping MJ get into the admittedly cool pant suit she planned to wear, Peter’s time was his own until an hour before the ceremony.

Grinning at the thought, Peter pulled out one of the reception hall chairs and sat down heavily. He relaxed into the comfortable wood, reaching up to run a hand through his formidable curls. They were sans gel at the moment; his fingers sailed through the silky strands with ease.

Peter wasn’t aware he closed his eyes until a loud clatter had them blinking open in surprise. Swiftly turning towards the noise, Peter stopped in his tracks at the sight in front of him.

A big gray vase was the source of the noise, there was no doubt about that the second Peter spotted it. What completely took his breath away, or maybe who, was the man holding said vase. Peter saw tanned arms that were toned to perfection right off the bat. It was obvious at first glance that the owner of those limbs worked outside with his hands frequently. The lithe muscles and glorious golden skin tone spoke more of manual work than physical exercise. With his eyes travelling up firm forearms and the swell of a built bicep, Peter noticed the man’s hair next. Tamed by a plain white dad hat, an abundance of unruly curls flipped under the edges of the brim and sides. Peter imagined a flowing head of dark brunette hair he could easily slip his fingers into the depths of.

As if the man knew Peter was staring, he turned towards Peter’s table, an intrigued look on his face. A face that, after taking in the rest of the stranger’s glorious beauty, didn’t seem fair. Well-kept facial hair outlined perfect lips pulled into a knowing smirk. Rich, honey-golden eyes were just visible under the brim of the man’s sweat-stained hat. They seemed to pierce Peter right in the chest, like their unblinking nature dug under his skin and saw everything he tried so desperately to hide. The feeling was unnerving yet so exhilarating all the same. Though he felt so very exposed, Peter wanted nothing more than to narrow the space and get to know the handsome stranger.

Luckily, his chance came a couple hours later.

To stop himself from shamelessly flirting, Peter hightailed it out of the reception hall the second he could, using a check up on MJ as a guise for his obvious escape. Most of his friends were exactly where he left them at the start of the morning – it was a marvel that anything got done when they all got together. After braving the makeup talk and putting out a few emotional fires, Peter’s reprieve came in the form of a man of honor errand.

With MJ’s credit card in hand, Peter made his way to the front of the building where the florist was waiting. He’d been so glad to get out of the bridal suite that he didn’t stop to think about the stranger and the beautiful floral arrangement that’d been in his hand or to make the connection between the two. For the second time that day, Peter tripped over himself when the man came into view. Now that an actual need to speak to him was in sight, Peter didn’t know if he could make his mouth work to take the chance.

Recognition was clear on the florist’s face – though they didn’t know one another, it was hard to forget the very long, very obvious stare Peter was caught in. Those utterly kissable lips were upturned, the pinch around the man’s eyes from the grin making him all the more attractive. Rolling his eyes at the thought (like he needed to be any more attractive), Peter tried to school his features and return the smile with one of his own.

“Hi! I’m Peter, MJ’s man of honor. She sent me to square up the bill for the flowers,” Peter said in greeting. As the space between them narrowed down, Peter nervously reached out, his free hand suddenly taking up the space between them.

A surprisingly soft hand slipped into his a moment later – the touch was firm and efficient, only lingering a second longer than usually appropriate. “Nice to meet you, Peter. Please let MJ know that I really enjoyed the challenge of the flower choices. Geraniums are hard to come by this late in the season.”

Pulling away, despite the desperate want to have the man’s hands all over him, Peter nodded in understanding – most of both MJ and Darcy’s choices were high maintenance and unique. The planning of every step along the way had been an absolute bear. “That’s MJ for you,” Peter agreed with a light chuckle. “We’ve been scrambling around the last week or so trying to get all the details right.”

There was a shared moment of silence where the two simply smiled at each other. The florist seemed just as lost as Peter, the joint look of discomfort and wonder more telling than any words ever could be. For Peter, each second that passed was a small gift he gluttonously got to unwrap until the magic was broken.

“It’s her big day, she should have what she wants,” Tony finally replied, the words and a red blush breaking the silence. “I like the unique stuff, anyway – keeps the job interesting.”

Without missing a beat, a paper invoice was thrust in his direction. “I took out the delivery fee from the total since I was in the area already.”

After that, it didn’t take more than a couple of minutes to complete the transaction – the florist worked swiftly, his fingers nimble and knowledgeable in every movement he made as he swiped MJ’s card and handed it quickly back to Peter. The brush of their fingers in the exchange seemed purposeful, though – especially with the smirk and red blush that followed.

Caught up in how brilliant the look was, Peter didn’t realize there was nothing keeping him there until the shuffling of feet brought the reality of the situation back with a vengeance. As much as he wanted to stay and chat, or ask for a number, or even a name, Peter knew the time wasn’t right. He already felt so caught up – actually having access to his preoccupation wouldn’t be good for his focus. It was MJ’s day; he owed it to her to keep his shit together and make every second of it the very best.

Looking up, Peter shot the other man a large grin before lifting a hand, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “I better get back,” Peter started awkwardly, “but thank you – for helping make MJ’s day so beautiful.”

With a nod, the florist pocketed his phone and took off towards the parking lot. Peter watched him walk away just long enough to catch the glance over work-firm shoulders. Hazel and brown met for a moment before Peter forced himself to walk away – a large part of him wanted to sprint across the black top to stop the gorgeous man from leaving. Something in the pit of his chest was pulsing with life; the feeling was so foreign that Peter pushed it down and quickly ran in the opposite direction, instead.

Peter got back to the bridal suite in a wonky haze – so much so that he didn’t even realize he walked through the door until MJ’s voice broke through his rampaging thoughts. “Did you get everything squared away with Tony?”

Turning towards her, Peter tilted his head, a crease in his brow appearing in his confusion. “Tony?” Peter questioned as he made his way over to the big table in the center of the room to deposit both the invoice and MJ’s credit card.

“Tony – the florist. I sent you to pay the bill. Please tell me you didn’t get lost along the way.” MJ shot him a knowing look, her hazel eyes blazing with affection. “He was a great help these last couple of months – matching all the colors would’ve been impossible without him.”

His brain halted for a second, the organ doing nothing but processing the fact that his handsome stranger now had a name. Recalling the beautiful face, Peter figured the name Tony fit the man pretty perfectly. With that knowledge, it was quickly becoming obvious that his focus was already shot – Tony with toned arms and a delectably deep voice already took up space there, just waiting to distract Peter at the worst possible time.

Like that moment, where MJ was staring at him with growing concern, waiting for a simple yes or no to her easily answerable question. Peter shot her an embarrassed grin when he got himself back under control. Sheepishly, he reached up to run a hand through his hair. “All is well. He told me to tell you he enjoyed the challenge. Oh, and he nixed the delivery fee – said he was already in the area.” He tried to sound cool as he spoke, to not give his interest away. Yet he knew almost immediately he wasn’t successful – Peter heard his own excitement as the words bounced around in his ears.

“So it’s like that,” MJ said, looking at him much more critically now.

“Like what?” Peter shot back, refusing to look her directly in the eye. She already caught the scent – the second he gave her the satisfaction of seeing the truth in his eyes, Peter would never hear the end of it. Regardless of the very important fact that Peter, despite wanting to more than ever, didn’t even pursue the obvious and very mutual interest.

Instead of pushing, MJ surprisingly let a knowing smile overtake her face.

“I see you Peter Parker.”

Luckily, the hustle and bustle of pre-wedding preparations and nerves that were inescapable, swept the subject right off the table a moment later. Peter happily helped MJ make her finishing touches in preparation for finally meeting her wife at the end of the aisle. Getting so swept up in it all, Peter allowed himself to forget the hazel eyed man for the rest of the evening. MJ and Darcy looked so happy – it was hard to see passed anything other than their beaming smiles and the bright future waiting for them.

----

The next few weeks passed by in a flash. Peter finally got some time to himself and reveled in it, taking advantage of every second of solitary freedom he could purge himself on before his final season began. Movies, books, and his favorite video games were the only thing Peter allowed himself to think about (and Tony, so many of his thoughts were about the gorgeous florist). He even went as far as to bar MJ and Darcy from the apartment when they got back from their honeymoon – it was the least they could do after running him ragged with errands and things over the previous few months. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the bombardment of newly wed grossness; it’d been some time since Peter felt the luscious caress of love against his heart and soul – and jealousy just didn’t look good on him.

When his self-imposed isolation came to an end, Peter begrudgingly got back into a suitable routine. Though cheer practice was different without MJ there, Peter easily sunk back into the drills and full body workouts that came after an entire summer off on their own. Hayley, their coach extraordinaire, pushed them hard in the beginning – it was the best way to filter out those who wouldn’t make it when the season really got started and competition prep took over all of their lives.

Once his muscles got used to the severe beating he took on a daily basis, Peter was more than ready for the year to start. Football games and the atmosphere that came with being a Boiler were a lot of fun; and with his decreased workload as a fifth-year senior, Peter planned to enjoy the easy-going nature of spirit and poms and comradery before the teeth came out and everyone’s battle armor settled into place. When competition season started, the team’s overall atmosphere and driving motivations changed.

Of course, just when Peter thought things were going just the way they should, karma came around to prove him wrong. After a long practice the week before the semester started, one of their flyers fell from a stunt, completely unaware of her contact with the ground’s effect until someone on the other side of the mat screamed. The sight, when Peter allowed himself to look, turned his stomach – he’d never seen a dislocated hip in person before and hoped to never do so again.

After the trauma of having the paramedics all over their turf, the team was given a couple of days off to recuperate. Peter and the rest of the squad planned to take advantage of the freedom by visiting Macy, who ended up having to have emergency surgery to save both her leg and her life. Though he knew a bouquet of flowers wouldn’t change the fact that she would never be able to cheer ever again, Peter figured it was a nice touch and planned to have one made before heading to the hospital.

Googling the closest florist, Peter was surprised to find a shop so near to campus. Many of the businesses surrounding Purdue were food joints or bars that were guaranteed to get a lot of steady business during the semester and over the summer. He wondered, just for a moment, how such a random store managed to survive the college population.

It took one look at the place to understand why the shop fit exactly where it was. Instead of the old lady feel he assumed he’d find, Peter stepped in front of a large windowed building with intricate flower arrangements filling the visible shelves. On the far side of the door was a mural of the Purdue P surrounded by all types of flora. The word Stark’s was camouflaged within the swarm of vines and greenery throughout the painting. It was well done and in the perfect, eye-catching spot.

A small bell over the door rang as Peter walked through it – at least one of the cliches in his mind was accurate. Grinning at the thought, Peter let his legs carry him further into the store, his head on a swivel to look at all the beautiful foliage placed strategically from one wall to the other. Though he knew nothing of plants, Peter understood the art of drawing attention – he participated in a sport that perfected it. From the placement to the intrigue, whoever owned the shop knew exactly what to do to draw a person in.

Peter stopped his exploration when a recognizable voice echoed throughout the space – “I’ll be right with you.” Upon hearing the timber and depth that haunted Peter every night since MJ’s wedding, he almost turned around and walked right back out of the store. He wasn’t equipped for the gorgeous man and his distracting smile and eyes and shapely ass.

Before he could make his feet move or even think, Tony and his inarguable gorgeousness walked in through the back door. His hands were covered in dirty gloves, a newly potted plant in the crook of his elbow. A denim apron covered a plain white t-shirt and black jeans that peaked out the bottom. At the sight of him, Peter had to force himself to keep his mouth closed and the pace of his heart under control – much like the last time he enjoyed the view, Peter wanted to bound across the distance and intimately get to know the other man.

Met with a smile when their eyes locked, Peter reminded himself to remain calm and smile back, to actually act like a human person with thoughts and the ability to actually articulate them. He came in here for a reason, walking out of the store with anything but the arrangement he wanted to bring to the hospital was unacceptable.

Tony, upon recognizing him, took the first step towards intelligible conversation.

“Peter, right? It’s nice to see you in here! How’d the wedding go?”

Blushing at the familiarity, Peter dipped his head and took a deep breath, hoping to collect himself enough to actually reply back. “Hi, yes. Peter. It’s nice to see you, too. I was surprised to see a flower shop in the middle of college central, but your place seems to fit in really nicely. No wonder MJ was pulled in,” Peter said in reply, getting the words out all at once to make sure they all saw the light of day. “The wedding was beautiful. Both brides are blissfully happy, and your floral arrangements were the topic of several conversations I had that night. You do good work, Tony.”

Peter’s heart stopped when Tony tilted his head back into a laugh a moment later. How did someone look so sexy doing something so base? No matter what happened, Peter knew he’d never understand such a thing. To cover up his reaction, Peter added his own laugh to the mix – the sounds harmonious in the empty shop.

“Yeah, I’m sure my flowers were a hot topic of conversation, especially with those beautiful women in the room. Thanks for the kind words, though,” Tony mumbled through a laugh. As he spoke, Tony reached up to brush an errant curl from his forehead – without the hat, the hair on Tony’s head looked unruly and all over the place, untamed and absolutely beautiful. The move left the smallest remnant of dirt on his skin, the black flecks of soil like little calling cards with Peter’s name on them. His fingers itched to reach up and brush them away. Tony’s next words shook him of the thought – “What brings you in today?”

“One of my teammates fell and injured herself pretty severely. We, as a team, decided to rub in the fact that she’ll never join us on the mat again by visiting her now that she’s out of the ICU. I figured some pretty flowers might soften the blow,” Peter explained, coloring at the blunt honesty that trickled from his mouth.

Tony looked intrigued, the other man completely unfazed by Peter’s word choice and candid nature. “Must be a dangerous sport if you guys are nursing career ending injuries.” He signaled for Peter to follow him with a swift flick of his hand.

“I’ve seen some pretty intense injuries in my long cheerleading career, for sure. People flying through the air, and all that. I wouldn’t call the sport in general dangerous, per say – I’d say the expectations we have to meet are what’s dangerous. The look, the difficulty of the stunts we make our bodies do – it’s demanding,” Peter remarked, following a couple steps behind Tony as they walked.

“Sounds misogynistic as hell.”

Laughing at the truth of Tony’s statement, Peter nodded enthusiastically. His heart felt warm from the idea of the random stranger in front of him understanding his struggles better than May and Ben ever could. Tony didn’t know him, and yet Peter couldn’t remember ever feeling so seen. “Oh, it is. The beauty standards are unbelievable and if you’re a male in the cheer world, forget it – you’re fodder for mockery and intense judgement. I fit the stereotype and even I can’t catch a break.”

“What’s the stereotype?” Tony asked with a soft tilt of his head and curiousness in his eyes.

They stopped suddenly then – the space between them was narrowed down to a couple of feet with an abundance of plants surrounding them on both sides. If he took a step or two forward, Peter wouldn’t have too much trouble reaching out and touching Tony’s beautifully tanned skin like he so desperately wanted to. It took too much effort to stop himself from doing exactly that. How exhausting.

Without waiting another beat or giving himself another moment to eye kissable lips, Peter uttered the answer with subtle breathlessness – “Gay. Flaming homosexual is usually what people attribute to the men of the cheer world.”

Color travelled up Tony’s cheeks, his lips quirking ever so slightly. He took his time answering, the man obviously thinking through his reply before blurting whatever he had to say into the universe. “Huh. That’s interesting, considering football players don’t go a play without touching each other on the ass.” Tony stopped for a second, making sure to catch Peter’s eye. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Peter answered immediately, the words coming out of his mouth without thought. “Its been my life since 7th grade.”

“I guess that’s all that matters, then,” Tony replied softly, a small, familiar smile on his lips. “Now back to your friend – what’s her favorite color?”

For the next half an hour, Peter learned about flower language and the subtle way to artfully layer flowers so the colors blended meaningfully together. Peter didn’t retain too much about the flowers themselves – they were beautiful and coordinated perfectly, but Tony out shone them all. He was obviously in his element; the simple way the information fell from his mouth spoke of years of study and tons of hands-on knowledge. Not only was the man smart, he had an eye for style and created little living masterpieces without much thought.

For what it was worth, the look of surprise that crossed over Tony’s face was brief. It made Peter’s breath catch in anticipation – for the first time in their short acquaintance, Peter felt uncertain. The feeling quickly passed, however; Tony’s face split into a beaming smile, the earlier surprise so easily replaced with seemingly genuine happiness.

“Yeah, I’d love to. I close up shop around 6 – are you free tonight?” Tony’s cheeks were stained with a rapidly darkening, gorgeous blush, hazel eyes shining.

Peter couldn’t remember what the next ten minutes entailed, let alone that evening – yet, whatever it was, he’d happily reschedule. There wasn’t a single thing that would stop him from saying yes to whatever Tony suggested. “I am. How about I meet you out front at 6:30? I’ll call Tasha and grab us a table for 7.”

Tony nodded, reaching across the counter towards Peter’s phone. “That sounds good. I’ll give you my number in case something changes. I’ve got a greenhouse out back and tend to forget myself. I sometimes lose track of time.”

Completely taken by every new thing he learned about Tony, Peter opened the phone and pushed it in Tony’s direction without hesitation. He didn’t expect the older man to be so forward – then again, Peter wasn’t all that surprised, either; Tony owned, operated, and supplied a successful business – he had to know what he was doing to some extent.

Watching with a delirious sort of haze, Peter followed as Tony’s fingers enter his number, then hit the green button to call himself. A phone on the back counter buzzed a couple of times before Tony ended the call and slid Peter’s phone back to him. “See you later, Peter. Tell your friend I wish her a speedy recovery.”

Numb hands grabbed the arrangement off the counter – Peter raised it towards Tony in a mock solute. “Until tonight, then.” Peter muttered the words excitedly. “Bye, Tony.”

He forced himself to keep his head down in hopes of actually making it out of the store. Peter wanted to turn around and look goofily at Tony – now that he knew his feelings were reciprocated, there was nothing stopping his desire from slipping out. Since the wedding, Peter forced the thought of strong arms and bright eyes from his head, just to be haunted by Tony’s beauty when he closed his eyes and let sleep take hold. His subconscious wasn’t on board with suppressing his urges – the fact that karma played a role made the rightness he felt even more valid.

Tony wanted him too.

His visit with Macy and the team was an immediate drag to his mood – the mix of emotions of the people surrounding their friend attempting to express sympathy was exhausting. Every person in the room feared Macy’s position in the bed. Some handled the anxiety better than others. The one bright spot of the visit, of course, was Tony’s arrangement. MJ immediately recognized the man’s work and winked at him knowingly. Peter didn’t stop a grin from slipping across his face; in their silent means of communication, the look was answer enough.

MJ corned him in the parking lot everyone dispersed to an appropriate amount of time later. When the room started to get too cloying, Peter made his excuses, prompting everyone to follow suit. There was only so much sad he could take – especially when a potential light in his dark tunnel shone so bright, waiting for him just hours away. They stopped at the trunk of Peter’s car, MJ leaning against the bumper like always. “Peter, spill. I haven’t seen that goofy look on your face since high school. Did something happen with Tony?”

Snorting at MJ’s impeccable awareness, Peter shifted until he could wrap his arm around her. He leaned his head against the side of MJ’s, closing his eyes. “Your florist is the best-looking man I’ve ever laid eyes on. I maturely held myself back at the wedding to be there with you in the moment and those karma points I banked were good to me today. I walked into Stark’s for some flowers for Macy and couldn’t bear to walk out without a chance to see him again.” Peter turned his head until he could press a kiss to her forehead. “We’re going out tonight.”

“I’m happy for you,” MJ said, her thin arms wrapping around him. “When I first met him, I thought you two might like each other. He’s older, a little weird, smart as hell – just your type.”

“I guess there’s a reason why you’re my best friend,” Peter quipped. “Seriously, though. Thank you – you always point me in the right direction. I really like him.”

MJ pulled back just enough to tap her forefinger against Peter’s nose – the move their sign of affection for years now. “Go get your man, Pete.”

----

To stop himself from pacing up and down the hall of his apartment, Peter went to the fitness center on campus – a hard workout with the weights was exactly what his body needed. Sweating and listening to a couple of playlists took Peter away from his thoughts of dinner later and into a mindset that let him just exist. It didn’t hurt that the pump in his arms looked amazing by the time he packed up and called it a day.

Timing it perfectly, Peter left himself an hour to get back to his apartment, shower, and decide on an outfit that didn’t shout desperate, but expressed his implicit interest, too. Not living too far from campus made it easy to fret about his clothes after a lengthy shower that took every ounce of Peter’s willpower to not masturbate anxiously. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to face the star of his fantasies head on after beating off to the thought of Tony’s tanned skin and gorgeous smile.

After a few restless passes through every piece in his closet, Peter took a large step back, attempting to clear his head. From what he already learned of the older man, Peter knew Tony looked flawless in anything – his style was basic, but the casual nature in which it was worn made the look stylish, anyway. Tasha’s restaurant wasn’t the fanciest place in the world and the pressing feeling of being comfortable in Tony’s presence made an outfit pop into Peter’s head after a couple of long breaths that helped to calm him down.

Peter slipped into his favorite dark wash jeans, smiling all the while – it seemed silly, the anxiety he danced with less than five minutes ago. He’d felt nothing but ease and excitement around Tony, getting himself prepared for a date with the man wasn’t as life and death as he let himself believe. Stressing over something that felt simple in every other way was a new feeling – Peter carried an abundance of confidence with him everywhere. The change made Peter believe whatever might happen with Tony was different and so much better than any other romantic dalliance he’d ever taken part in.

The outfit was finished with a couple small sprays of his favorite cologne – Peter only broke out the fancy stuff for special occasions. With a tug to his rolled shirt sleeve and the slightest adjustment of his collar, Peter took a deep breath and wandered across the room to stop in front of his mirror. His straight legged jeans were clasped at the waist with a black leather belt that cut Peter’s figure dramatically. Both muscular and trim, Peter went out of his way to make sure each attribute was highlighted appropriately. A white and blue stripped short sleeve button up wrapped around Peter’s firm biceps and tucked neatly into his waistband to highlight the narrowness of his hips.

Aside from the rogue curls Peter couldn’t tame, he felt good about the way he looked – the outfit and the confidence it made him feel would be a hit. Tony seemed to like the upfront and honest way he presented himself, there wasn’t any reason to change that now. Allowing himself one last look, Peter turned away from the mirror and made his last-minute preparations – he pocketed his wallet and keys and grabbed a jacket off the coat hook on his way out of the door.

It took less than five minutes to get to Tony’s shop – without the daily traffic on the road, the drive was easy. Pocketing that fact for another time, Peter climbed out of the car excitedly; for the first time in a while, Peter felt ready to date. Tony presented intrigue and want and a curiosity that Peter hoped to cling to for as long as possible. The simple fact that Peter already felt that way spoke volumes.

A door shutting brought Peter’s attention to the sidewalk in front of him. He expected to find Tony turned around to lock the front door of the shop, yet the older man was closing a door on the side of the building instead. Even more interested now, Peter started to head in that direction.

“I live in a huge loft above the shop,” Tony said with a knowing tone, answering Peter’s unspoken question without any sort of hesitation. “When I first bought the building, a storefront wasn’t what I initially had in mind. After I opened up the shop, it made the most sense.” Tony continued to speak as he closed the distance between them.

A soft pair of lips were pressed lightly against Peter’s cheek before he could think, let alone reply. Peter felt his cheeks and neck light up with a heated flush, his body temperature skyrocketing. Tony’s next words only added to the feeling – “You look amazing, Peter.”

Swallowing his awkwardness, Peter smiled in Tony’s direction, finally taking the man in front of him fully. Tony’s legs were encased in charcoal grey jeans that were rolled twice at the cuff. The edges sat nicely against a pair of black and white vans. The tanned arms Peter hadn’t been able to stop thinking about were on display – Tony’s short sleeve button up was perfectly tight against a trim chest and firm shoulders. Other than the stubble Peter figured Tony always had, the man’s cheeks were smooth – highlighting how gorgeous the florist truly was. It didn’t hurt that their fashion senses were similar, either; Peter wondered for a moment where Tony got the floral shirt currently driving him crazy.

“You’re stunning,” Peter eventually managed to say, his breathy words finally breaking his minutes long silence. “You’ve looked great in every way I’ve seen you – covered in dirt, sweaty and working, dressed to impress – it’s kind of not fair, Tony.” Peter let the truth of what he just said sit transparently on his face. They were passed the point of coyness and subtlety; Peter wanted Tony to know he was wanted, even though they hadn’t known each other long.

His bluntness seemed to do the trick – Tony grinned widely in his direction, avoiding direct eye contact with Peter in obvious hope of getting himself back under control. “Charmer,” Tony muttered, stepping a little closer to Peter to emphasis his point.

After opening the passenger side door like the gentleman he was, Peter settled behind the wheel and onto the main road. Tasha was a former teammate, a senior his freshman year, that escaped to Paris – only to make her way back to Indiana and use the knowledge she gained in one of the cooking capitals of the world. Over the years, Silver became a regular place for Peter and the team to spend their classier nights. The food was amazing, and Tasha’s unique style made the minimalism the restaurant was known for interesting and thought provoking. When he called to make the reservation, Tasha cooed in Peter’s ear while saving his favorite table for 7.

They made easy small talk during the drive over – Peter described the pre-season workouts he’d been trucking through while Tony regaled him with a story of his last customer of the day who tried to steal roses by stuffing them down her shirt. As he listened and absorbed, Peter realized Tony was funny and full to the brim of wit – he laughed freely, the sound so joyful, Peter couldn’t help but join in. They were still chatting as the hostess led them to their table and set large menus before them.

Their drink orders were taken almost immediately – the serving staff was familiar with Peter and must’ve been tipped off before they got there. A bottle of red wine was set on the table before either of them could delve back into their previous conversation. Peter poured them each a glass, then pointed at the menu – “Did anything catch your eye?”

“I thought I’d go with the steak frites. Out of all the dishes on this extensive menu, that one immediately came to your mind. Seems like as good a reason as any to give them a try,” Tony reasoned, lifting the wine to his lips as he spoke. “What about you?”

Peter’s cheeks were already starting to hurt from the giddy smile he couldn’t help – talking and joking and simply being with Tony felt so natural. He didn’t have to think to reply casually to whatever they were talking about. “I get them every time I’m here. When Tasha first opened this place, she’d just lay dishes on the table when we sat down. I stopped being her menu taster when she introduced me to the steak frites. I haven’t had anything else here since,” Peter admitted, his cheeks flaming once again.

“You’re one of those people, huh?” Tony shot back, grinning all the while.

“One of those people?”

Tony grinned a little wider, his eyes shining with affectionate enjoyment. Before he replied, the older man slipped his hand across the table, taking Peter’s fingers lightly. “Yeah, one of those people. Someone that gets the same dish at every Chinese or Italian place they go to, no matter the options.” His thumb trailed over the back of Peter’s hand. “You like what you like.”

Feeling a little called out, Peter ducked his head to stop anymore redness from overtaking his skin – he probably resembled a tomato already. It was crazy – to feel so happy being teased. “Okay, yeah – I’m one of those people. I’ll try that one dish anywhere, though.”

They traded a few barbs back and forth until they ordered, and their dishes were sat down in front of them. Without the threat of interruptions in the near future, Peter felt ready to broach some of the more personal topics – for the first time on a date, Peter genuinely wanted to listen and find out more about the person across from him.

“So, tell me more about yourself – who is Tony Stark when not covered in dirt or up to his elbows in beautiful flowers?” Peter cut into his steak as he spoke, hoping the relaxed way he asked the question would take a little tension off Tony’s obligation to answer. The last thing he wanted to do was make their time together feel like an interrogation.

Tony didn’t seem to mind, though – he looked up with a tilt of his head. “What do you want to know? I’m shockingly not covered in dirt a lot of my time throughout the day.”

“How did your love for flowers start? Did you study horticulture in college?” Peter decided to ask.

Smiling lightly, Tony shifted in his seat, preparing himself for story time. “I studied Botany and Plant Pathology, actually. I have a doctorate in Plant Genetics and Soil and Water Sciences. During my plant genetics studies, I did some time abroad that took me to every continent – seeing the wide range of flora that exists in this world was the first time I ever thought about making plants and flowers a daily part of my life to the extent they are now.” Tony stopped to meaningfully catch Peter’s eyes.

“I used to be a professor at Purdue – when the restrictions of the lab became too much, I ditched the academic world and opened up the shop. I’ve been elbows deep in beautiful flowers ever since.” Tony winked in his direction, repeating his words jokingly back to him. “What about you? You cheer and charm unsuspecting old men, I know that. What else do you get up to?”

“You’re the only unsuspecting older guy I want to be charming, don’t you worry,” Peter reassured Tony with a soft chuckle. “When I’m not sweeping you off your feet, I study Philosophy and play a stupid amount of video games. Cheer and all that comes with it takes up a lot of my time, though. Most of my college life has revolved around football games and competitions.”

“Sweeping me off my feet – jeez, Pete,” Tony mumbled. His cheeks were red and the smile he wore spoke of happiness and enjoyment. “I took a couple of Philosophy classes during my undergrad days. What do you plan to do with an entire degree with it?”

A laugh slipped from Peter’s mouth at Tony’s question – though many people asked him that very same thing, no one presented it quite like Tony did. “You’d be surprised by what you can do with a Philosophy degree,” Peter retorted. “I want to be a bioethicist. My minor is Public Health – when I put my cheer shoes away for good, I hope to get a master’s in Bioethics and finally get into the realm I want to be in.”

Tony tilted his head then, his eyes roaming over Peter curiously. “What made you want to get into that? I’m sure there aren’t a lot of young bucks walking into higher education with their sights set on changing the medical world like that.”

Sucking in a long breath, Peter let the question sit on the air for a moment. He swirled the last of his wine in the glass before drinking it. “My parents were in a car accident a couple of days before my 10th birthday. My dad passed away immediately, but my mom – she hung on for an extra couple of days. There was a lot of internal bleeding that they were worried about. In all that worry, they didn’t wait for scan results or blood work to come back before they attempted a new, exploratory surgery. She didn’t make it back out of the operating room.”

Peter paused for a moment, catching his breath. “I was old enough to know someone fucked up and when I looked into it later, I decided I never wanted to let someone feel like I did in a crisis like that. There’s got to be someone who reviews the evidence and makes the ethically just decision to save someone’s life. Why shouldn’t it be me?”

For a second, Peter thought he went a little bit too far – there was a tense moment of silence that felt heavy after revealing something so personal. Peter bit into his bottom lip, not letting himself look up to see whatever reaction existed on Tony’s face. Then, a soft touch brushed across the back of Peter’s hand, Tony’s calloused fingers wrapping around his own. A brief squeeze had Peter looking up, his breath catching at the awe that met him. “I’m sorry to hear about your parents, Pete. Mine aren’t around anymore, either. It’s kind of cliché to say that you saw the deeper meaning of something so tragic, but it’s true. You’re using your pain to make the world better. That’s good shit,” Tony said, his voice hinting at a note of finality – like nothing would change his mind of the thought.

His certainty made Peter feel light, the weight of his emotional burden finally lifting from him after so many years. What a difference it made, to be so easily understood.

That light and airy feeling followed Peter throughout the rest of the evening – he smiled widely as Tony talked about his greenhouse while they shared a small chocolate tart between them. For all that his physical attraction was worth, Peter was genuinely surprised to realize that he felt a personal connection to the florist, too. They led different lives but shared enough similarities to make the time spent together more than worth it. Peter liked Tony and from the looks and subtle touches Tony bestowed upon him all evening, Peter figured Tony might like him, too.

Tony proved that thought to be true when they pulled up in front of his place – “Do you want to come up? I had a really nice time tonight and don’t want it to end.” Tony’s words were said through a saucy smile, his intention more than clear in the look in his eyes.

Peter didn’t hesitate to give his answer – leaning forward, he gripped the side of Tony’s cheeks, using his hold as leverage to pull Tony a little closer. They met in the middle, their lips pressing together softly.

----

Things progressed pretty quickly from there. Tony led Peter up a small flight of stairs into an open room. As expected, plants and flowers were scattered around the place, covering all of the flat surfaces with adequate enough sunlight. A comfortable looking couch and kitchen table took up one corner of the room while a large, king-sized bed took up the rest of the free space of the room. There wasn’t much clutter and all of the things that Tony had, he more than likely used. It was simple and perfect, much like the person who resided there.

Tony didn’t let Peter take in the room for too long – before he could walk around and snoop, Tony’s arms were around Peter’s hips, pulling him close. Peter eagerly met Tony in the middle, their lips sealing together in the delicious slide of tongue and teeth and wet, panted breath. As the kisses deepened and their bodies moved closer to each other, Peter started to impatiently thumb at Tony’s buttons, his palms and fingers running over every inch of bare skin he revealed to the cold air. Tony followed suit; his movements much more impatient than Peter’s were. By the time they made it over to the bed, Tony was pulling down Peter’s pants and boxer briefs. He gladly joined Tony in nakedness before climbing onto the inviting mattress.

“Holy shit, this is comfortable,” Peter babbled absentmindedly, his limbs stretching as far as they could go.

“It’s the one thing I refuse to compromise on. I want to be comfortable when I partake in all the activities a bed is good for,” Tony replied as he climbed onto the bed and fit himself between Peter’s legs. “You’ll be even more impressed in the morning,”

For a while after that, there weren’t any words exchanged. Peter kept his mouth busy by pressing kisses into Tony’s neck and upper chest – Tony’s cologne was prominent, pulling Peter in the more he breathed the delicious smell in. Tony let Peter riddle his skin with marks and spit while he ran his hands all over Peter’s skin. Their hips were lined up and with every thrust Peter made up, Tony rolled his hips down until their cocks brushed delightfully. They were both so caught up in each other that nothing but touching and experiencing actually mattered.

It’d been so long for Peter that he found himself coming to a breathless crescendo fast. After a few minutes of passively letting Peter kiss him, Tony took control of things – his hips set the tempo and his hands and lips laid down the distraction. So overwhelmed from it all, Peter wasn’t aware of how close he was until his orgasm slammed into him out of nowhere. “Oh fuck, Tony! I’m – I’m going to come,” Peter panted out, his body thrumming with life and want and a desire he couldn’t hold back.

“Oh, Tony!” Peter practically screamed a moment later – Tony dirtily rolled his hips to toss him deliciously over the edge.

Panted breath filled the room as Peter rode the high of his orgasm. Tony placed tiny, teasing kisses against any part of Peter’s skin he could reach. Reaching down, Peter gripped the sides of Tony’s face until they were looking at each other – Tony met his eyes with a self-satisfied smirk. “How good is your turnaround time?”

Laughing, Peter leaned forward to give Tony a kiss. His cock was already starting to fill out again – having Tony so close set his body on fire. “Ten minutes at the max,” Peter mumbled after a moment of cataloging his heavy limbs and the desire that was rampaging through them.

“Good. Then you’ll have plenty of time to prep me before you fuck me.”

Lost in the words for a moment, Peter was immobile until Tony tapped his side with a cold lube bottle to get his attention. “You want me to fuck you?” Peter dumbly asked, his mind still trying to catch up.

“Yeah, Pete. I want to feel you inside of me. Your body is trim and fit – I can only imagine how good you’re going to fuck me,” Tony admitted without shame. He moved out of the splay of Peter’s thighs, climbing to his hands and knees, instead.

Not wanting to lose his chance, Peter launched himself into action. He ran his hands over the planes of Tony’s sides and back, tracing the small scars and tiny moles scattered across pale skin. His fingers were eager to categorize and map, but his impatience was too great. Tony pressed back into him, as if he too was starting to feel anxious for what was coming next.

Uncapping the lube, Peter drizzled a good amount onto two of his fingers, pausing just long enough to warm the slick to body temperature. When he felt ready, Peter pressed the tips of both his fingers to Tony’s eagerly waiting hole, tracing and circling the muscle to spread the lube and relax the man he was touching. Little by little, his first finger slipped in without much resistance. Tony bared down against him and let the digit slip all the way in until the webbing of Peter’s finger stopped him.

Now that the warm heat was wrapped around him, Peter wanted to take his time, letting Tony get used to the feeling while he explored and reached. Tony’s entire body jolted forward when Peter finally found that delicate nub.

“Shit – do that again!” Tony shouted; his voice laced with a breathy moan.

Unable to do anything but give into what they both wanted, Peter continued his ministrations, teasing Tony with one, two, and then three fingers. He scissored and pressed against the edge of Tony’s rim, loosening the muscle as he went. When he pressed inside, Peter caressed Tony’s insides, just barely pressing against his prostate until Tony was humping back with exaggerated impatience.

“I’m good, Pete. I’m good. Please, I want you,” Tony pleaded as he reached back and felt around for whatever lenght of Peter’s skin he could reach.

Completely hard once again, Peter was more than ready to feel Tony wrapped around him – after an easy orgasm already, Peter knew he’d be able to make their coupling worth it. Opening the tube of lube again, Peter drizzled more of it directly onto the length of his cock, and then a bit more around Tony’s rim. He stroked himself a couple of times, then shifted until the head of his cock could drag through the lube coating Tony’s skin.

He teased them both for a moment, tracing Tony’s rim with the wet head of his cock to ramp up that initial moment of anticipation. Peter kept up his antics until his own body couldn’t take it any longer – every part of him craved the warm embrace of Tony’s hole. With that thought in mind, Peter used one of his hands to grip Tony’s hip, using his hold to pull the other man back against him as he thrust forward. Breaching the muscle felt like coming home – he threw his head back with a rough groan; maybe he wouldn’t last as long as he initially thought.

“Tony, Tony, Tony – you feel fucking amazing,” Peter panted through clenched teeth, his body fighting hard against the need to thrust forward and take, take, take.

Tony reached back to grab at Peter’s hand on his hip to tangle their fingers together, instead. They shared a few breaths while Tony got used to the stretch of Peter within him, the mere connection between them radiating a different sort of heat while they waited.

Finally, Peter felt Tony relax around him enough for his hips to draw back and press forward without much effort. He kept his thrusts slow to start; his cock was throbbing from the realization that it was Tony below him – picking up the pace was a sure-fire way to end things a lot quicker than either of them wanted. When Tony started to thrust back against him, however, Peter lost more and more of his control. His hips snapped forward, their skin slapping together to make a loud sound that echoed around the room. With every thrust in, Tony moved with him – the tip of Peter’s cock was poised to press perfectly against Tony’s prostate every time.

Between the sounds dripping from Tony’s mouth and the delightful squeeze around his length, Peter was a few thrusts away from slipping over the edge once more. He tried to shift so he could wrap his fingers around Tony’s cock to get him there too, but he was met with a long stare over Tony’s shoulder – dark hazel eyes were on fire, pushing him to thrust harder and forget everything else. Tony’s body was taut, obviously strung out and seconds away from breaking apart. Finally understanding, Peter straightened out his chest, gripped Tony’s hips in both hands, and let himself go.

In the end, it was hard to decide who tumbled over the edge first. Tony shouted Peter’s name and tightened impossibly tight around him. The extra stimulus was the perfect thing to bring the heat in Peter’s belly to an overflowing boiling point. He tucked his head into the sweaty length of Tony’s neck and groaned, Tony’s name and fuck and unintelligible noises added to the symphony their joining created around the room.

Managing to just barely turn Tony as his body collapsed, Peter hit the mattress hard – his cock slipped out of the blissful heat, dragging a long groan from the depth of Peter’s chest. Being inside of Tony already felt like home; both his body and his heart were convinced. Wrapping his arm around Tony’s hip to compensate, Peter snuggled into the man’s sweaty back, keeping their bodies close.

“I – Tony. That was…” Peter started to mutter, his brain still not back online like the rest of him. Tony looked over his shoulder, affection and appreciation alive in the hazel of his eyes. They shared a heated stare as Tony pulled Peter’s hand more firmly across his chest – they didn’t need words in that moment, merely touching and existing in the same orbit was more than enough.

----

After that first passionate night, Peter spent almost all of his free time with Tony. With the shop being so close to campus, it was easy to lean on Tony’s close proximity and the joyful happiness Peter felt whenever they were together. The natural way their lives just sort of combined with each other proved how right they were for each other. Where others were wrapped up in the time Peter spent away from them, Tony enjoyed the fact that they led separate lives. Peter got to keep cheerleading and Tony at the same time without the two battling against each other. He didn’t know it before Tony came into his life, but that level of acceptance was everything Peter needed from another person to both excel and feel happiness.

Before Peter knew it, four months were behind them – though it hadn’t been that long, most of Peter’s things took up space in Tony’s apartment and every thought Peter had revolved around the life he was trying to create with the older man. He even took the time to learn more about Tony’s body of work – they spent many of their afternoons together in the backyard with Tony working the greenhouse while Peter practiced tumbling or simply watched his boyfriend in his element. Peter couldn’t recall another person making him feel so dumbfounded playing in the dirt the way Tony did – it wouldn’t matter what the man did, either; Peter would find something to be amazed about.

It was Tony that drew him in; his personality, thoughts, and the eager way he gave back to Peter spoke to a part of himself that he never knew existed.

Which was how he found himself nervously awaiting Tony’s arrival at the Purdue football stadium – aside from MJ and Darcy, Tony’s appearance at the football game would be the first time any of his friends met the older man. The fall, much like Peter, was a busy time of the year for Tony. Between weddings, showers, and parties, Tony’s weekends were filled to the brim. The homecoming game was the first game that the home schedule actually lined up with Tony’s off day. He couldn’t wait for Tony to watch him do the thing he loved in the uniform he felt proud to wear. Selfishly, he wanted to see that same sort of pride radiating from the person he’d fallen in love with.

The forty minutes they were trapped in the locker room before the game started felt like torture – his phone vibrated against his thigh a couple of minutes after they headed in from warm-ups. Tony was navigating the stadium’s security to get to the sideline spot Peter secured for him. When they walked back onto the field, Tony would be there eagerly waiting for him.

Finally, the performance lights flickered, and they were ushered to their usual entrance. The large black and gold flag he carried in his hands was lighter than usual – his excitement pumped through him, the dopamine of happiness causing a rush of energy. As the announcer pumped up the crowd, Peter caught the eyes of his teammates around him, sharing the hype he felt.

Running across the thick white lines never felt better – by the time he crossed center field, Peter caught sight of Tony in the corner. His boyfriend was clapping loudly, the honey-hazel of his eyes glued to Peter’s every move. The familiar feeling that Tony’s love created in him spread through Peter’s chest, showing itself off as a giant, beaming smile.

They didn’t get much of a chance to talk throughout the first half of the game – Peter’s stunt group was responsible for the spirit stuff for the first and second quarter. Instead, Peter sent Tony messages with his eyes, showing off his skills and tumbling talents whenever he could. It was almost better that way – Tony got to experience Peter in his element without any pressure to respond. The crowd going wild around them only added to the experience. For once, Peter got to put on the show.

When Peter got to wander off after the half-time performance, he was wrapped up in a bear-hug the second Tony could get his arms around him. Peter was covered in sweat and glitter and the annoying little turf beads that always stuck to his skin, but Tony didn’t seem to care. The older man picked him up, spinning him around excitedly. “Pete, you’re so talented. I about shit my pants when you back flipped for so long down the field, but damn – the skill you possess,” Tony gushed, tucking his face into Peter’s neck to calm himself down.

Not wanting to lose the upbeat energy, Peter cupped Tony’s cheeks in both of his hands. Tony leaned into the touch, tilting his head back to look at him. “I’m so happy you’re here,” Peter started, leaning forward to steal a quick kiss. “I’ve been on point all day because of you. I can feel you watching me – I want to be good for you.” The last words were whispered in his ear, the impact of them hitting Peter hard across his lower back as Tony wrapped him up and pulled him close.

“You’re the only thing I see,” Tony mumbled back, his tone all the sudden low and gravelly.

After leaning in to give Tony a heated kiss, Peter forced himself to pull back – he stepped out of Tony’s embrace completely. If he stayed there any longer, he wouldn’t make it back to the locker room at all. Smirking in Tony’s direction, Peter thrust his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got to go, or I’ll never leave. See you after?”

“I’ll meet you out front,” Tony said with a nod, his anxious hands reaching out to squeeze Peter’s hand once more. “Keep kicking ass, Pete.”

His role during the third and fourth quarter was a lot more passive than the first half of the game. Since the Boilers were up more than two touchdowns, a lot of the crowd left after the first few minutes of the third quarter – that meant the younger stunters and less experienced tumblers got to have some time on the field. To stop himself from straying over towards Tony, Peter put all of his effort into helping his littles. It didn’t work nearly as well as he figured it might, but he got through the rest of the game with minimal distraction.

Hayley’s speech was inspirational and moving like usual – they were done with football home games for the season and their success was obvious and highlighted in her moving words. The next couple of months of the season were the calm before the storm and they were all looking forward to the small break basketball games posed for them. Competition season started after the holidays and no rest would be spared. Though he always appreciated her words, Peter wished for them to quickly come to an end.

Before he even finished the thought, Hayley was circling them up, calling out the cheer that they all echoed back. As he shifted to move out of the circle, a firm grip stopped him. “I believe this is for you,” Hayley said, handing over a classic red rose.

“Hayley, who’s this from?” Peter asked, trying his best to tamper down the hope that maybe Tony was the stupidly romantic culprit.

With a knowing smile, Hayley shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, “He said you’d know.”

Pulling the rose to his chest, Peter ducked his nose to sniff at the crisp petals. It was de-thorned and freshly cut – Tony’s markers were all over the beautiful gesture. His cheeks were already sore from all the beaming he’d been doing all night, the face splitting smile only made it worse. Despite that, Peter wore it throughout his post-game routine and out the door where he ran directly into MJ.

“MJ! What are you doing here?” Peter threw his arms around her then, careful not to crush the flower still in his hand.

Thin arms returned the hug – MJ brought him tightly to her chest with a hard squeeze. It’d been a few weeks since they’d seen each other. Seeing her standing there, Peter realized it’d been too long.

“I couldn’t miss homecoming. I am an alumna after all,” MJ replied, her wide eyes never leaving him. Watching her closely, Peter felt a gasp leave his lips when she brought another classic red rose up, running the flower under her nose. “This needed delivering, too.”

Peter gripped the rose lightly, tucking it against the other one in his hand. Each of the petals were perfect and from the small lessons he got from Tony whenever they handled the clipped flowers, Peter knew what the giving of classic red roses meant. It only seemed right that Tony clued him in that way.

“Don’t fuck this up, Peter. I really like him, too,” MJ remarked as she moved in to press a soft kiss on his cheek. He kept her close for a moment, simply soaking in her presence. “He’s waiting for you out front. Go get your man, Pete.”

A soft laugh left his lips, MJ said that to him when she first learned about his date with Tony. It wasn’t lost on him how full circle everything felt. The rightness of being with Tony existed in every aspect of his life – each little sign made the delirious heat in his chest burn that much brighter.

Giving MJ one more squeeze, Peter broke away to quickly make his way towards the front of the stadium where Tony was waiting for him. He wasn’t sure what he did to deserve such a sweet display of affection – Tony knew Peter appreciated the simple day to day life they were slowly creating with each other. At the same time, Peter’s heart was hammering in his chest at the thought that Tony deemed him worthy of such a gesture.

Peter found Tony leaning up against one of the large pillars just outside the exit doors. In the darkness, the honey color of his eye shone like melted pools of gold. Narrowing the distance between them became the only thing on Peter’s mind, he picked up his pace and practically threw himself in Tony’s arms.

The sigh along the length his neck made Peter tuck in a little tighter against Tony, his heart pounding with affection. He pulled back before the roses in his hand could get squished in the intensity of their embrace. Peter brought the flowers to his nose, keeping Tony’s eye as he did. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Peter sing-songed, grinning at the flush that spread over Tony’s cheeks with every word.

Tony nodded at him, tilting his head with a mischievous look of his own. “It looks like you’re missing one, though,” Tony remarked. The long stem in his hand was darker than the others, symbolizing love yet to be realized. Their fingers brushed as Peter took it, his brow quirked in intrigue.

“I love you, Pete. I’ve known since you walked through the door of my shop that you were special. Every second with you has made my life just a little bit better. I know it hasn’t been that long, but I’m mad about you. Over the fucking moon.” Tony walked into his space then, his hands cupping Peter’s cheeks.

Surging forward, Peter caught Tony’s lips in a passionate kiss, their noses bumping in the process. They sipped from each other’s mouths until the need to breath became pressing. Instead of pulling away, Peter leaned his forehead against Tony’s, closing his eyes to revel in the contentment that wrapped around them both. After a couple of shared breaths, Peter blinked to catch Tony’s eye. “I love you too, Tony,” Peter whispered back.

With a wide grin, Tony leaned in again, mumbling “I know” against Peter’s lips.

#starker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #sfsummerbingo21 #bobbie writes #it takes me all the way #starker fic

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danhoemei · 3 years

Note

Thank you so much, for answering my asks. If you don't mind me asking, who are your favorite MXTX characters (top 5 from each novel)? And why? I'm sorry if you've answered this question before.

Gosh 5 each novel. You really like fives huh

[SPOILERS ahead]

MDZS

1. wei wuxian

A ray of sunshine with a noble heart; smart and witty, wild and bold, not afraid to reach for what he wants and not afraid to fight for what he believes in.

2. a qing

I was immensely impressed by her wit and creativity. Her sharp mind and sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue could utterly destroy others lmao. I am WEAK for smart characters and she rocks it. If only she had more luck...

3. jiang cheng

He has a lot to work on and can be unbearable but no matter how much he tries he can’t hide the softness in him. I know many people don’t like him and I understand, but I have a soft spot for characters who try too hard and constantly feel inadequate, who don’t believe in themselves, who are hard to approach and bottling their feelings and thoughts up, but given love and understanding they can bloom and be fiercely loyal to those who are precious to them.

4. wen qing

Tough, brave, ready to fight, smart and unyielding. Inspiring. I am also often fond of medics, I almost always play rpgs as the team’s badass medic xd

5. meng yao

He suffered a lot and never gave up, constantly cornered and made to fight for survival in a world which repeatedly rejected him. He committed awful crimes, but many other people in mdzs did, and I kind of can’t blame only him without blaming society and others as well. There is a good post that puts to words my saltiness for this character.

TGCF

1-2. xie lian & hua cheng 💕

xl impressed me for his wit and calmness. Cheerful and accepting of whatever was to come, but at the same time ready to give his all in literally anything, no matter if it was an important matter or a small task he was given. I liked to see him grow and mature, then find his happy place surrounded by his friends he cared about and fought for 😭

hc similarly to xl, impressed me in his own ways. He was pretty much a mary sue, to a kinda ridiculous degree at some points, and I regret that we couldn’t see more of his background and know him solely as xl’s sidekick, when there could be so much more content. But anyway, his sheer devotion still sends be flying. He suffered so much and should have disappeared so many times, but every time his love and need for xl’s protection held him in this world. Ghost king created of love. I am on my knees.

3. pei ming

Lmfao enjoyed his every appearance. He has his flaws but his core is kind and honest, and I respect him for that.

4. yin yu

I do have a thing for sad loyal and hardworking characters xd Thinking about his story twists my insides because of the amount of powerlessness and slow descending to despair that I felt. I respect how hard he tries, even while being aware of his shortcomings or lack of “talent”. He’s sad and I wish for him to be happy ;___;

5. he xuan

Another person who suffered a lot yet wasn’t destroyed by their misfortune and injustice, rather rose as a different person filled with determination, persistent in their goals.

Svsss

1. shang qinghua

Best hamster character lmfao. Chaotic, full of memes, just trying to survive and live by. Forgetful but smart and creative. Made me laugh many times and he has a comfy nest in my heart.

2. liu qingge

Hah, another grumpy and awkward character who has problems expressing themselves. I’m soft for him and I want happiness for him ;___; Qingge my boi ;____; Svsss should have been a harem story change my mind you won’t.

3. shen jiu

Another unhappy character with a shitty life huh. I am once again impressed by wit and strong survival instincts. Can’t get too deep into him because, I must confess, I haven’t been able to read his extras... If something is too painful I feel it physically and I’m afraid that I wouldn’t be able to handle the amount of powerlessness, anger at the world, and regret for what could have been. I know enough from the fandom tho :’) Anyway, I like this poor bastard despite his shortcomings and I dwell on the idea of AUs where he and qi-ge can open up to each other and be happy ;___;

4. shen yuan

Awkward millennials constantly screaming inside, what’s there not to relate to lmao

5. mu qingfang

Again, soft spot for medics xd Also pretty related to his #done attitude towards his friends going around doing stupid shit and getting hurt. Had so many situations like that in rpgs I played with my friends xddd *flashbacks to ridiculous stunts my friends pulled*

#ask #ask opinion #thanad zid #meta #mdzs #tgcf #svsss #mxtx #thank *you* for asking 🙏#i appreciate #also you ask pretty complex things xd #i have to really think about things i never gave too much thought about #so it's fun #thank you~

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inquartata30 · 4 years

Text

WIP Whenever, Fluff Part 1

tagged by @sky-ham for some fluff for understandable reasons

tagging @natsora and @1esk19 for more fluff

this is from a one shot set in The Scenic Route’s timeline, the one where they’re in the Milky Way, everyone’s alive, and there are no Reapers.

Lexi answered almost immediately. “Did you and Aella enjoy your time at the park?”

Thaia narrowed her eyes. Going to the park had been a spontaneous thing because her lab time had been usurped by some other ‘more important’ project. Instead of bothering with battling over a stupid power move, she’d opted to take her kid to Guildhall Park for a pickup skyball game and whatever else they could find.

Unfortunately, ‘whatever else’ had turned out to be trouble, which wasn’t an unusual occurrence when Thaia and Aella went places without, as Sula called it, adult supervision. But wasn’t that Thaia didn’t want Lexi to know what they were up to. It was because Lexi had been in a practical and Thaia hadn’t wanted to disturb her unless there was some kind of incident that required her help. If not, Thaia would simply tell her the entire story when she got home. Or someone else would’ve told her before she even got home because Thaia and her family knew way too many people in this part of Armali.

Also, Aella had successfully scaled the monument to Matriarch Atapalai and her reward had been been them getting booted from the park and banned for the rest of the week and ‘maybe you should teach your child some decorum during that time.’

First of all, Thaia was pretty sure that the matriarch who’d had the tits to go out and find the first relay and then used the fucking thing within days because ‘fuck sitting around on my ass and being cautious like the rest of you’ would be completely fine with a kid climbing a statue dedicated to her. Cheer her on, even.

Second of all, Thaia had wanted to see if Aella could get all the way to the top because it was pretty fucking high up. Then Aella had reached the top and Thaia had been too busy being proud as fuck to chase her down before a cluster of matriarchs got their panties in a twist over it.

So, to help them feel better after getting unjustly banned from the park for a week, Thaia and Aella had gone to the hobby shop. And now they felt better.

“Yes,” Thaia said to Lexi. “We did.”

Aella tried cramming a foot under the box. She immediately winced and went another route, trotting over to one of the trees lining the walkway. Little purple flower petals drifted down around her when she bumped into the trunk instead of stopping of her own volition like a normal person. Then she grabbed a good-sized stick, held it aloft with the petals still swirling around her, and ran back.

Lexi sighed. “I suppose I should be grateful no one was hurt.”

“I don’t know, Matriarch Agera got all worked up about a scuff mark on the statue. Maybe someone should examine her for a heart condition.”

“That mark was there before!” said Aella, working the stick under the box for leverage.

“It was.” Thaia shrugged even though Lexi couldn’t see her. “Anyway, I called to see if Harry was visiting Thessia and I didn’t know or if Karin was coming over at any point today.”

“I don’t believe so. Do I want to know why?”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

“Do I need to know why?”

“We’re fine, I promise. We just wanted to be sure. Okay, have a fun class, love you, bye!”

“Bye!” Aella echoed without interrupting her determined glare at the box.

Thaia ended the call before Lexi could interrogate either of them since Lexi had gotten even better at interrogation since she’d started her clinical psych program and she’d already been phenomenal before that. Plus, neither Thaia nor Aella could lie to save their lives.

Thaia turned to her daughter, who’d given up on the stick and was now using all of her might to drag the box.

Successfully. Shit, her kid was strong. Freakishly strong, according to Celaeno. However, it was slow going and Thaia was admittedly excited about putting the model together with Aella. Sooner rather than later. And she hadn’t bargained on her kid being this fucking stubborn and being able to move the box enough where they were actually making forward progress.

Incremental forward progress.

“You sure you don’t want help?” Thaia asked.

Aella stopped, put her hands on her hips, and glared up at Thaia. “I can get it!”

“Okay, okay.” Thaia held up her hands in surrender. “I won’t ask again.” She also had to hide a laugh because for all Aella shared a similar bone structure to Thaia, that fucking glare had been all Lexi. Seeing it on someone so small was funny as fuck.

The next twenty-seven minutes—Thaia kept track—were spent with Aella grumbling and grunting as she pushed and pulled the box along the strip of sidewalk leading from the Kepeia District to Palla Square. During that time, Thaia also drew several amused or annoyed looks from onlookers and, really, the annoyed ones could just fuck off. Obviously, they’d never had to deal with spectacularly stubborn child. In the the stone-paved area outside the complex’s entrance, the sharp scent of ozone hung in the air. Thaia couldn’t hear the snaps of biotics or shouting that accompanied playing, so practice must’ve been over for the day.

As Aella stopped to catch her breath and Thaia silently wished she’d just give up and let her carry the box, members of Armali’s team began exiting through the complex gates, some pausing to sign autographs for enthusiastic younger fans. From behind a couple clusters of sizable backfielders emerged a comparatively pint-sized player whom Thaia and Aella immediately recognized.

Fejla Na’vis, who’d been their reliable source of skyball tickets for almost seven years; who’d obtained a pass for Thaia to attend a one week long pro-level skyball camp a month before Aella was born; and who, along with Harry, was Lexi’s best friend of decades.

The only reason Thaia hadn’t known about Fej during the two years she was being a dumbass about Lexi was because Fej was a pro player for Armali Union, Thaia’s favorite skyball team ever, and Lexi had—rightly—suspected that Thaia would react with an undue amount of enthusiasm should she ever meet Fej.

She had. But during the months before Aella had been born and especially after their unintentionally galaxy-spanning misadventure shared with Nef, a black-market body part, and a stack of ancient krogan data-readers, they’d become excellent friends. And Thaia had mostly stopped being a completely over-enthusiastic fan.

With the exception of playoffs.

“Auntie Fej!” Aella dropped the box and sprinted toward Fej, practically slamming into her for a hug and almost smashing Fej’s nose with her forehead in the process. Luckily, Fej was able to dodge the head blow.

Shit, if Aella’s forehead was a threat to Fej’s nose, that meant she was already catching up to Fej in height. Thaia did her best not to laugh. It wasn’t fair that Aella was on the ridiculously tall side for an asari six-year-old and Fej was on the decidedly small size for an asari adult. Given another couple years, Aella would probably be able to look her in the eye.

“What’ve you got there?” Fej asked, pointing at the box after Aella let go.

“We got a model relay!” Aella ran back to the box and demonstrated her dragging technique. “Look, I can carry it by myself!”

After observing Aella move the box a whole-ass third of a meter in five minutes, Fej placed her duffel bag on the grass and smiled. “Wow, it’s almost as big as me! I bet you’re excited to get it home. Do you want some help carrying it? I’m going in the same direction for a bit, so I don’t mind.”

Thaia waited for the ‘determined Lexi glare’ to appear on Aella’s face like it had when she’d offered to help.

It fucking didn’t. Instead, Aella grinned and said, “Yes, please!”

“What the fuck,” Thaia said, mostly under her breath.

When Fej stood next to her, Aella looked between her and the box and back again. Then she scratched her chin and did it again. After a third time, she said to Fej, “I bet I can pick you up.”

Fej opened her mouth, closed it, and then after thinking it over for a moment, shrugged. “You know what? Give it a try.”

Aella immediately crouched and grabbed Fej around the knees.

Fuck, she’d figured out the best method to pick up someone bigger than her. She might actually do it. Thaia hurriedly activated her omni. This needed to be recorded for posterity.

After setting her feet, Aella lifted with all her tiny might. Face flushed a darker blue and her legs trembling with the effort, Aella got Fej a good ten or so centimeters off the pavement before she lost her balance and fell backwards. Fej, possessing the body awareness and quick reflexes of a pro ballplayer, flipped in the air and landed on her feet while catching Aella with biotics the same time.

“I did it!” Aella announced, triumphantly raising her arms in the air.

The startlingly large audience they’d collected during Aella and Fej’s stunt gave the two a round of applause. Thaia had the best fucking kid.

“That was hard,” said Aella, shaking out her arms. “I don’t think I can carry the box the rest of the way home.”

Fej gave the top of Aella’s crest a fond rub. “I’ll still help you.”

“Good, because Daddy didn’t help me on our way here.”

Okay, maybe not the best kid.

“The fuck,” Thaia said, loud enough for the others to hear.

#mass effect #fanfiction #fluff request WIP #tessera au #tessera: the fluffiest timeline

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years

Text

Forsaken | Part 1

Summary: As one of the Forsaken, Jinyoung had no right to covet anything as his own. When he stumbles across you standing in the middle of the village he had plundered, the memories of old make him risk it all, clutching at the past in hopes for a better future.

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

Genre: warrior au / star crossed lovers / angst / romance

Warnings: death, kidnapping, cursing, a myriad of emotions - this is a really sad love story.

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

It was a mistake to let his emotions take hold of him. In the face of danger, Jinyoung had been taught to follow orders and leave nothing to chance. He had men he had to account for despite the many lives he left to their ill-fate. It was a crooked way of thinking, though he often tried not to do such a thing when carrying out a task for the Rebellion. The more he thought, the harder it was to walk away from the sins he committed.

It had started with petty crimes, taking money from those in power. He had been able to cope with such requests, anything to keep his head above water.

Or better yet, still upon his shoulders.

For a man who had no home or family to call his own, Jinyoung was far too selfish to survive. So pulling off stunts as he had meant he steadily rose in the ranks to the front line.

He remembered his first proper test as a commander for the Rebellion as if it were yesterday. The screams of those who lost their homes, their deaths haunting him in his slumber for weeks after. It didn’t grow easier with each plunder, though he had grown colder.

He was able to sleep some nights.

Yet when he saw you standing there in the face of danger, stricken by fear and uncertainty, Jinyoung had moved faster than he should have. You were a variable he hadn’t ever expected to cross over in these parts of the country, believing you were still nestled in the township he had left you behind in.

It was him who was meant to be but a ghost to you and yet here you were, fractured images rushing to his mind as he strode through the fires, through the travesty towards you.

Your voice calling his name in his mind urged him to move faster, almost running to your side, barricading you within his arms when a part of a porch began to fall around you. The shock seemed to put you in a stupor, long enough for Jinyoung to tie his mask around your eyes, shielding you from seeing anything more.

You were from a world of light. The idea that you had seen the darkness thus far made him desperate to remove you. He hoisted you up, surprised that you didn’t fight him any. You weren’t limp in his arms, rather, your hands clung to the collar of his shirt, making Jinyoung clamp his eyes shut, trying to avoid the memories that flashed through his mind.

Did you know it was him already? You were too complacent and he was shaking as he carried you to safety. What was he even doing? You believed him to be dead, like he was meant to be all along.

Those of the Forsaken were just like that. Someone who had nothing surely shouldn’t have you.

His hands tightened around you with this thought, coveting you, keeping you for himself. The selfish need to have something more as his own, someone he craved regardless of the consequences meant he placed you down on the cart alongside some of the trinkets that had been taken from the homes before they were set alight. Jinyoung almost laughed at how ridiculous this was.

Still, you were worth more than anything that they had found here.

“Boss, we don’t take prisoners.”

Glancing at his subordinate, Jinyoung glared. “She’s no prisoner.”

“But-”

“BamBam’s new, he doesn’t get it,” another mentioned, his eyes dark, regarding Jinyoung as if he could read all of his thoughts this way. Jackson then smiled grimly. “Shall we set off? There’s nothing left but ruins now.”

Jinyoung looked down at you, cowering and coughing as you shook. He took off his coat and threw it over you, covering you completely. With you out of sight, he took the first controlled breath since he had arrived at this damned place. Nodding to his second in command, Jinyoung moved to the horse tethered to the tree beside him. “We can return to base now. Our mission here is complete.”

“Don’t you wonder what life will be like ahead of us?”

Looking at you, Jinyoung shook his head, a smile spreading out his lips. “No, why should we?”

“Well, they say we’ll live for a lot of years, if we stay healthy that is. I want to live a good life.”

“Aren’t you now?” he wondered and you grinned at him. “I thought you said you couldn’t be happier now if you tried.”

“Since meeting you, life sure has been different,” you agreed, leaning in closer, your hand reaching for the collar of his shirt, anchoring yourself in preparation for the heady experience of kissing him. Jinyoung licked along the bottom of his lip with bated breath for the same moment to come crashing upon him. You inched closer. “Saving you was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Jinyoung shook his head, dislodging the memory from going any further than that. Looking to the cart where you had remained hidden, he wondered why you had to reappear in front of him now in this part of his life. He had never thought of the future, knowing from his upbringing, having one was impossible to hope for.

Still, he hadn’t wished for this kind of life for either of you. Or for you to cross paths again.

“Will you speak of her to me?” Jackson asked as he rode alongside Jinyoung, casting the man a hard look. “She’s that girl, isn’t she?”

“That girl is long dead to me.”

“Yet you take someone hostage like this? You know the risks you just took with us all,” Jackson continued, tilting his head to the side. “You wouldn’t-”

“Will you tell of my deceit?” Jinyoung pressed and was relieved to see the man shake his head immediately. He then grew annoyed. Jinyoung didn’t want to be in a situation where he should feel relieved after what they had done earlier in the day.

“Still, you owe me-”

“Owe you?” Jinyoung asked, smirking even. “The term of owing you-”

“Fine, fine! I won’t even ask!” Jackson cut in hastily, throwing one of his hands up in the air. “I’ll never speak of my debt in life to you again!”

Jinyoung chuckled. “If you keep my secret, I will see us as even.”

“What will you do with her?”

That, Jinyoung didn’t quite know how to answer. He had acted on impulse, the youthful version of himself mustering up more strength in that moment than the man he had become. Now you were a weight he would have to carry for the rest of his or your existence.

However long that may be.

As he searched for any signs of regret, he didn’t find them. Swallowing, Jinyoung shrugged in response. “What should I do with her?”

“It depends on her worth. We could trade her,” Jackson offered and Jinyoung laughed.

“She has no assets that we could use to our advantage in a trade.”

“Can she cook?”

Jinyoung smiled as another memory came to mind. “Some.”

“Then she can feed our men! Surely you can admit that Youngjae is no good at feeding us.”

“I normally step in to help salvage what he brews,” Jinyoung agreed, chuckling with his friend. His humour eased off, his eyes flickering back to your hidden form. Would your future be secure at the camp? He sighed.

Whatever it would be, Jinyoung knew he would carry you without complaint. You had wanted a good life, and whilst he knew that would be far from the cards now, you would still have a life.

And he hoped being alive would be enough for you. For now, at least.

The rest of the journey was spent singing along with his comrades or talking up ahead with Jackson. Jinyoung knew you had grown alert to those around you, despite making no attempt to move. It intrigued him, he had not once shackled you to the cart, and yet you acted as if you were tied down, unable to escape even if you tried.

However, he didn’t trust himself around you just yet, moving away so he couldn’t even look over his shoulder to check on you. He was in the company of men who thought highly of him as their leader. The last thing he needed to do was show a vulnerability that could lead to an uprising within his own battalion.

By the time the camp came into view, Jinyoung was exhausted. He threw his leg over the neck of his horse and leapt down from its back, landing with more of a thud than usual. It was early morning and most of those who were stationed here would be still asleep. It was the perfect time for Jinyoung to grab you and take you into his home, away from prying eyes and unnecessary questions.

He was more than certain you would have many of your own once you came to your senses.

The mere thought of you recognising him sent a surge through him, ending the squabbling over what to do with you between Yugyeom and BamBam, his order silencing that of his team. Jackson patted him on the shoulder before tasking his comrades with collecting the booty they had come away with.

Jinyoung moved you swiftly towards his home. His heart pounded with every step, your body slumping into his side effortlessly. Keeping his gaze forward and his grip tight around you, he soon had you out of the light and deep within his home. No one else would enter such a place without his command to do so, and yet he was still frazzled, laying you down and then dashing around the room for supplies, for some sense of order.

It was when he realised that you had succumbed to your exhaustion that he too sunk down to the ground, sitting in the middle of his room and staring over at you.

“Why did you spare me?”

“Spare you?”

He nodded. “I stole your compass, did I not?”

“Should I cut your hand off then?”

“Perhaps,” he offered, hesitant of your complacency. He watched as you tilted your head to the side, a smile soon growing upon your lips.

“Everyone needs saving in life. Don’t you?”

“I shouldn’t. I’m not meant to be saved.”

“Really? Why not?”

He rubbed at his neck awkwardly, not knowing why he was telling you, a complete stranger and one that he had just stolen from none the less, about himself. It was a rule he had long kept ever since he had been labelled a Forsaken. “No one cares for me.”

You blinked a couple of times before reaching out to hold his hand. “Well let’s change that, shall we? I’ll care about you.”

“Who are you to show me that?”

“Me? Why I’m Y/N. And who are you?”

“I don’t have a name.”

“That’s so absurd, why wouldn’t you have a name?!” you exclaimed, your brows knitting together when you realised of his situation. You smiled instantly. “Ah, I see. Well, why don’t I give you a name?”

“You-you would?”

“Of course! Everyone should have a name.”

“Why?”

“How else am I meant to call for you?” you answered with a giggle and he smiled for the first time. You mirrored his gesture and then placed a finger to your mouth in thought. “Hm, how about Jinyoung? After all, I found you here at the Jinru Bridge.”

“Where do you get the young part from?”

“Because we are young, silly! And I hope you can feel the freedom of being young forever, Jinyoung.”

“Are you sure that’s a good name for me?”

“I like it,” you said with a pout, offended that he seemed unimpressed with your choice. He shook his hands dismissively before smiling at you again. “I’m Jinyoung?”

“Why don’t you go stand over by that tree,” you offered and he frowned. You laughed and ushered him off. Jarringly, he obeyed your request and jogged over to the tree. Before he could do anything else, he heard you call out his new name, instinctively making him turn to look at you.

You grinned as you called out his name repeatedly, his heart now jumping around in his chest as he laughed in response.

It was then that he realised he had finally met someone who might actually care for him for the first time in his entire existence. He felt warm, and as you continued to smile at him, he knew he would do anything to remain at your side.

_________________

Part 2

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seeing-the-light · 3 years

Note

For the character thing, Eugene ofc 😌💕

Sexuality Headcanon: To me, he’s probably bi or pan, with a preference for women.

Gender Headcanon: I see him as someone who identifies as male but isn’t afraid to be gender nonconforming- I fully believe in dress-wearing Eugene supremacy and think he deserves the chance to try on heels and paint his nails and whatever other fun shenanigans he’s gotten up to through the course of his crazy life :)

A ship I have with said character: like I said for Rapunzel, I ship those two adorable dorks together with all my heart

A BROTP I have with said character: Lance and Eugene! Love how much they’re both there for each other and clearly care even if their relationship is full of banter at times (I also continue to stan Team Awesome, just figured I’d highlight another one I love here)

A NOTP I have with said character: Honestly what I hate most with him is the suggestion that he still pines for Stalyan and wishes Rapunzel was more like her, or trying to spin her criticism of him as legitimate when he was a teenager being coerced into a marriage with someone who treated him in ways that definitely looked abusive onscreen, so probably them.

A random headcanon: I’m kinda obsessed with the idea that post-season, after the castle/city has been fixed and things have settled a bit, Eugene goes to the Dark Kingdom to check on his dad’s efforts and help out a bit, and they get the chance to bond more and maybe that’s the first time Edmund begins to open up more about Eugene’s mom and it’s very soft.

(Bonus from a conversation my friend and I had today- for some reason Eugene and Rapunzel’s kid takes a shining to Dabney, and has it as their personal bear comforter instead of a usual baby blanket, and Eugene humors the kid but will absolutely never admit how many times it’s badly startled him when he sneaks in for a late goodnight kiss.)

General Opinion over said character: Um, I love him and he deserves the world. That’s it. That’s my opinion.

...jk, so, Eugene’s one of my favorite characters, period. As much as people talk about the hot man meeting and I agree that he’s very aesthetically pleasing, that’s honestly one of the lowest reasons in the list. I think one of the first things that stood out to me was actually his personality. Like when he first complained about the poster, I genuinely thought he was distressed about the fact that he was on one, so the joke actually got me. And like... the entire way he interacts with Rapunzel in the beginning, from “it’s in that pot isn’t it” to pointing out her conflicting emotions to “stay calm, it can probably sense fear” to his utter confusion about why these thugs who were about to kill him had now broken into musical number to “let’s just assume everyone here wants to kill me” and being ridiculously proud of his stunt with the frying pan to trying not to freak out about hair to finally feeling comfortable enough to open up a little about his backstory.... like wow. I’m absolutely going off rn but these are all iconic things that have lived in my brain rent free since 2010. And we slowly get to see his mask get pulled back and shatter, slowly get to see him respond well to receiving compassion for the first time in his life. The movie culminates in him being so self -sacrificing, and then it could’ve ended with him getting the castle and his dream and being loved for the person he really is.

But it doesn’t? In fact, we see fairly early on in the series that now that he’s here, he’s trying to spread that to others- whether that’s in being there for the kids he claims he’s not good with, or searching for ways he can contribute something to castle life because he doesn’t want to just be a freeloader- he doesn’t just stop there. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t think the series did his character and feelings justice in many ways, but the times that it did? Peak content. He doesn’t just sit on these lessons he’s learned - he applies them to other people- like Lance, when he tries to steer him down the wrong path, or his father. But he’s also not afraid to speak his mind or stand his ground when there’s good reason for him to not budge. He values life, a lot- even In people who’ve tried to kill him, like when he pulls Edmund back from the edge in Destinys Collide, or going back for the Stabbingtons. (Which is probably because he knows what dying is like in a way no one else can.) At the same time, he’s always so ready to close his eyes and accept it when he’s in those sorts of positions- almost like he knows he’s on borrowed time and just expects that to run out some day. He still seems so surprised when he’s shown love and affection, he’s so deeply committed to Rapunzel that he doesn’t let a misunderstanding like what happened in BEA put any sort of distance between them- if anything, it pulls him closer as he commits to being patient. He STILL has some of the most iconic moments in the series - I could gesture to most anything he does in the finale to support that. But like he does in BVA, he’s also more than ready to recognize his friends’ strengths and push them into the limelight.

This is getting super long so I should probably force myself to stop or else it’ll never end but yeah. Yeah, my opinion is that I love him, and he’s good, and deserves all the love and support and affection he gets, and I appreciate how patient and understanding he is of his friends even when sometimes they don’t even give him the time of day, and I’m grateful they gave him an existential crisis as ripe as the one he explored in DC because he had more than enough reason to have one, and how much he grows into his place and relationships . He deserves many hugs. 💜

Thanks for the ask! Feel free to send more my way!

#eugene fitzherbert #tangled #this one took me the longest to answer #because I love him #and kept overthinking and rewriting my answer to the last question #ask #kingreywrites

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gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights · 4 years

Link

Rating: G

Summary: An offhand curiosity leads to Ladybug and Chat Noir riding his baton up as high as it can go. Or, as high as it can go before they get distracted. (It's just nerves about the height that has Ladybug's stomach in knots, she swears.) Ladynoir oneshot for @lovesquarefluffweek, dedicated to @rosekasa who made me a ladynoir stan

Word Count: 3511

XXX

Marinette rested her hands on her hips, watching in amusement as her partner finished wedging his staff in the crack in the dilapidated rooftop.

“This is a horrible idea,” she said idly.

His tongue stuck out as he tried wiggling the stick, ensuring that it was secured fast. “Come on, Bugaboo, none of your ideas have ever been horrible.”

Strictly speaking, this wasn’t her idea. She’d only wondered how far Chat’s baron could extend, if its length was as infinite as her yo-yo’s string. It was her ridiculous, adrenaline-junkie partner who wanted to ride the baton up as far as it could go.

Not that it was that dangerous, really. They’d done it a few times to scout for some akuma or another during attacks. Besides, it would be nice to see the city from such a height without a threat looming over them—or below them.

“It wasn’t an idea. It was a question,” she still said on principle. “I didn’t think you were actually going to test it.”

He rested his chin on the top of the baton and grinned. “How long have you known me? I’m not majoring in Physics for nothing.”

“You’re not majoring in Physics.” She leaned in to flick his nose, which only made him grin wider. “Not for another two months, and not ever if you become a pancake by pulling some stupid stunt before then.”

“How could I hurt myself? I’ll have my amazing partner right there to catch me if I fall.” He winked.

Her stomach twisted like pretzel dough—from nerves about the height, that was all.

“Don’t go treating me like a parachute, kitty. I’ll be more likely to rip my arm out of its socket if I have to yo-yo us out of this.”

Or she’d have to use Lucky Charm and hope for an actual parachute, but it probably wouldn’t come to that. Silly as her kitty could be, he never let her down when it mattered.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be extra careful, I Pawmise.” He crossed his heart with one claw, still grinning like he was already on top of the world.

Ridiculous or not, this idea was worth it just to see him so excited. He’d been bouncing all night since she’d agreed.

“You’d better,” she warned, though her voice was warm.

His grin reached Cheshire proportions as he wrapped one arm securely around the metal staff and extended the other to her. “One catapult, going up.”

“Oh no.” She laughed. “Points for the pun, but please don’t tell me you’re going to launch us.”

“I already said I’ll be careful. Don’t tell me the fearless Ladybug is actually scared?”

“Pffff, you wish. You just want me to hold on tighter.” Her fingers threaded through his teasingly before slipping out just as he tried to kiss her knuckles.

His lips pursed in a pout. “You know me too well, my Lady. ...But seriously, please hold on. I know you can catch yourself if you have to, but I’d really rather not drop you in the first place.”

“That makes two of us.”

She wrapped one arm around his waist and secured the other at his shoulder. His feet lifted off the ground to brace against the staff, leaving his thigh as a comfortable seat.

Enjoying this, huh? She almost expected him to tease as she snuggled closer—because she did want to be safe. It was almost disappointing when he neglected to quip though. Maybe she wasn’t clinging tightly enough after all.

“So high do you think we’ll go?” He asked, holding her by the waist as she finished getting settled. “Think we’ll be dodging planes tonight?”

“I doubt it. Even if we technically could go that high, we shouldn’t. It’ll be freezing up there.”

“What, afraid I won’t be able to keep you warm?” He teased with a gentle nuzzle to the size of her head.

Had it always been this difficult to keep from leaning into his touch? Not that she couldn’t, but, well—if she gave into his jokes, he’d have no reason to continue.

“Why don’t you just focus on getting us up there at all.” She kept her voice flat, hiding any trace of that brief thought.

“Whatever you say, Bugaboo.”

For all his earlier joking, their ascent started fairly slow, more like an elevator than a catapult. It gave her plenty of time to take in the sights below—the warm lights flickering from windows, divided by the dark swath of the Seine. Streets radiating out from the Arc de Triomphe like spokes on a wheel, cars inching their way down them like little lightningbugs. And of course, the Eiffel Tower, sparkling in the distance, a homing beacon that never failed to bring a smile to her lips.

Paris. Their city.

“Pretty amazing, huh,” Chat breathed beside her. With their arms around each other and the glittering lights below, it was easy to pretend they were rulers surveying their kingdom.

...Chat had must have been calling Marinette Princess too much. Or else his My Lady’s were going to her head.

Royal daydreams or not, though, there was no one she’d rather have beside her—no one else she could have beside her. And not just because it was his baton that held them aloft, his embrace that made her feel as secure as if she stood on solid ground. She would have been crushed under the weight of her superhero mantle if he weren’t there to share it. Staring down at just how many people depended on them, it was impossible to forget that.

“Does it ever feel like too much?” She whispered the doubt that had been nagging at her more and more lately. She tried to stay strong for the team’s morale, but when it was just her partner and the hushed sky, her necessary barriers wore thin.

“Does what feel like too much?” He replied just as quietly. His face turned to hers, emerald irises glinting in the moonlight, closer than she’d prepared herself to handle.

The pretzel twist in her stomach made a reappearance, but she was hardly thinking about the height.

“You know. All of this.” She couldn’t let go to gesture to the glowing city beneath them, but he seemed to understand anyway. “We’re the only ones standing between all of them and two adult supervillains. And even after all these years, we still haven’t found them.”

Her voice cracked a little on that last sentence. The uncomfortable truth they’d been dancing around for the last few months—longer, really, but it became more and more urgent as lycee ended and they prepared to go to University. Most of their team of miraculous wielders (not Chat, of course) would be leaving Paris. This was the last summer they would be together, and the last summer they could be kids, only they hadn’t really been kids for four years now thanks to Hawkmoth and Mayura—

And maybe that was why she agreed to this crazy idea. Because they were kids, dang it, and she deserved to do something silly and dumb with the one person she trusted more than anyone in the world. She wanted to spend time with him outside of taking down Hawkmoth’s villain of the day. She wanted them to just be together.

Wait. Not together, together—just, like, as friends. Who could spend time together without wearing magical suits and masks. She wanted to sew them matching shirts, and text him cat memes at two a.m., and kick his butt at video games. Which she could do as Marinette, but—she wanted him to know it was her, too.

The sheer force of that longing took her by surprise, and only multiplied her hatred for Hawkmoth a hundredfold.

“Hey, Little Bug,” Chat said softly. His arm tightening around her dissolved the complicated web of her thoughts. “We’re going to find him. And it’s not just us anymore. Pegasus is analyzing all the data Rena’s collected, remember? And we’ve got her and Carapace alternating patrols with Ryuuko and Viperion. We can even call in Queen Bee or Bunnyx or King Monkey if we need to. We’ve never been closer to taking Hawkmoth down.”

He was right. They weren’t alone. They never would’ve survived the combined powers of Hawkmoth and Mayura if it weren’t for their team, especially since sentimonsters started regularly joining the fray two years ago.

Still, there was something about sitting with Chat among the pinprick stars that brought her back to before then. When it was just the two of them against the world.

Was it weird that she sometimes missed that?

“I know,” she murmured. Her forehead leaned against his chest, where the steady thump-thump of his heart calmed her own. “Sorry, Chat. I shouldn’t worry.”

“I don’t think anyone could stop you from worrying.” His chin rested on her head, his warmth and familiar scent cocooning her. Roses and leather and cheese, juxtaposed in a way that was so uniquely him. “I doubt Paris would still be standing if you didn’t worry. But it’s going to be okay. I promise.”

The rational part of her brain wanted to ask how he could say that. The newspapers cried out against them at every mistake, at every day that drew them closer to the fifth anniversary of Hawkmoth’s appearance.

But the other part of her brain, the part that had worked in tandem with him long enough that trusting him was second nature, calmed at his reassurance.

“Who knows,” he continued. “Maybe we’ll kick Hawkmoth’s butt before summer ends, and then we can throw a party before everyone splits for University. The whole team can show up. We’ll get Multimouse to bring the pastries. Carapace can blast us some sick tunes. I’m sure Queen Bee can get us a venue…”

Marinette giggled at the thought of all the miraculous wielders, unmasked and just hanging out like normal friends, no more worries than what they were going to do in University. Alix and Kim would probably (definitely) end up in some kind of competition, powered by their miraculouses or not. Luka would serenade Kagami with his guitar instead of Viperion’s lyre. Speaking of which, Marinette wondered if Adrien’s brief stint as Aspik would mean he would be there… and how he would get along with Chat Noir. For some reason, she had a feeling it would be odd to see them together.

Regardless, it was a dream worth fighting for. A dream worth hoping for.

“I’m sure Multimouse would love that,” she said, hiding her smirk against his collarbone. By the time such a party could happen, Chat would know the truth about her dual identity, anyway. “I know I would.”

“There’s only one thing that would make it better.” Chat’s voice turned teasing.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

He didn’t answer as they passed through a cloud, the dampness much colder and all around wetter than she was prepared for. She shivered and sneezed, feeling her pigtails cling to the back of her neck. Chat chuckled and brushed them aside. His claws lingered for the briefest of moments on the sliver of skin between her suit and hairline.

“A private party,” he said softly. “Just the two of us, before everyone else.”

She pulled back just enough to see his eyes again, intending to tease him about what kind of party he was asking for—but the sincerity and softness in his features stopped her short.

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah. So we can… I mean, I know I want…” he swallowed for a moment before quietly finishing, “I want you to be the first one to know who I am.”

They didn’t talk about revealing their identities often—mostly because she made it clear that they couldn’t, and she already thought about it enough without tempting either of them by saying it out loud. He was Chat Noir, her partner and best friend, no matter who he was under the mask.

But maybe they should talk about it more, if he thought she would want anything else.

“Of course, Kitty.” Carefully, since they were hundreds of kilometers in the air, she moved the arm at his waist to wrap around the back of his neck instead. A few of his damp locks tickled her fingers even though the suit. “I’ve always wanted you to be the first, too.”

His smile could’ve powered the whole city below. “Then it’s settled. Pegasus finds Hawkbutt next week. We storm the castle, Queen Bee Venoms him and Mayura, you rip their miraculouses off, we pound it, and we throw the biggest party Paris has ever seen.”

His optimism, if unrealistic, was contagious. She felt the hope untangling knots in her chest as she laughed again.

“I should’ve left the planning to you, Chaton. Maybe then we’d have beaten Hawkmoth already.”

“Nah, we all know you’re the brains of the operation, Bugaboo. I’m just here to look pretty.” He flipped his soggy hair, and his bangs hit his forehead with a fwap.

She couldn’t help the laugh that burst from her. “You’re such a dork. I love you.”

He froze solid as one of Style Queen’s statues. She half expected him to turn to gold, for his warmth to bleed out like the color currently draining from her face.

She said—

She’d said she loved him.

She’d said she loved him, and the words had come out as easy as breathing, as sure as the pounding of her heart. How—why? She didn’t love him, not like that, she couldn’t couldn’t she’d told herself that long ago—

But any denials caught in her lungs, trapped like the dark butterflies snared by her yo-yo. Only when the words were fully purified were they released again.

“I—I love you,” she whispered.

She hadn’t meant to say it once, much less twice—but with the repetition the truth of it snapped firmly into place. She didn’t know when her kitty had snuck past her defenses, slipped past her blinding crush on Adrien, dodged all the logical reasons she had for not falling for him.

But he had.

She loved Chat Noir. Of course she did.

“You—but you—is there an akuma?” He stammered, eyes wide and disbelieving. She’d been turning down his off-and-on (mostly on) flirting for four years now; of course he wouldn’t assume she was serious.

“No, Kitty.” Her laugh felt suffocating. After all this time she’d been trying to confess to Adrien, and now, when her target was her Kitty, her mouth didn’t give her a choice.

Maybe that was for the best. She would always have a special place in her heart for Adrien, but Chat—Chat was her home. Her partner, her friend, her everything.

The twisting in her stomach finally unwound, swelling into something that she could hardly contain. His face was so close, his lips still parted from the three words she’d dropped on him. It would be so easy to lean in and kiss the shock from his face, until he melted in her arms, until they both believed this was real.

But Chat had always respected her boundaries, and she would do the same for him. Besides, what if he didn’t feel the same anymore, if his flirting was just habit? And she’d just blurted out her feelings before even she realized them—what if she ruined the comfortable companionship they shared?

No. No, she knew better than that. Even if he didn’t feel the same, nothing could tear the two of them apart.

“I know I’m late, but—if you still want me—”

“My Lady.” She felt more than heard the tremor of emotion in his voice. “I’ll always want you. I always have.”

Was this real? How had she gone from flirting with her partner to baring her heart to him? The liquid moonlight washed aside her walls. His golden hair was spun silver in its glow, and her hands ran through it involuntarily. She was lucky Chat had returned his grip to her waist, because otherwise she might have accidentally slipped off him.

As much as his words made her feel like she could fly, it was best not to test that theory.

“Thanks for waiting for me, Chaton.” She rested her forehead against his, still shaking with the realization and love and longing and—how had she ignored this feeling? How long had she wanted him to kiss her senseless before her mind would admit it?

It didn’t matter. She knew now, and the electricity that sparked between them wouldn’t let her forget anytime soon.

“You know I’d wait forever for you. I love you.” His breath fanned across her cheeks, soft and hot and everything she hoped his lips would be. “I love you so so much, Ladybug, I—”

He might be willing to wait forever, but she wasn’t. Her lips consumed whatever it was he was going to say next—

And all she knew was that he tasted like coming home.

He matched her passion with a surprising sweetness. It wasn’t the intense kiss she was expecting, but maybe that was for the best. He was the only thing keeping them from plummeting to the ground far below, and distracting him probably wasn’t the best idea, but frankly after that first touch of lips she was so gone they could’ve fallen and she wouldn’t have noticed—

He yelped against her mouth. Had she done something wrong? She hadn’t kissed a boy since Luka two years ago, but she couldn’t be that bad—

Oh. She hadn’t noticed.

Gravity really wasn’t supposed to be tugging in that direction. And the wind wasn’t supposed to be blowing up.

And Chat’s baton wasn’t supposed to be slipping through his fingers.

Gah! She barely had time to think as his arms tightened around her middle so he was hugging her from below. What was he thinking? Did he expect to cushion her fall?

Jolting out of oh-my-gosh-I’m-kissing-Chat mode, she threw her yo-yo from her hip and lassoed the still-upright baton. Only miraculous magic could be holding it steady, especially when she yanked them towards it—

And in a jumble of limbs and string, she promptly tangled them against the metal length.

She heard a sharp crack, followed by a dizzy groan.

“Chat, oh my gosh, are you okay?” The world was still spinning; she couldn’t turn to see him. Mostly because her back was pressed flush against his chest.

“Purrfectly fine, my Lady.” His laugh sounded near her ear. “I always knew you’d sweep me off my feet.”

She rolled her eyes, unsure if she wanted to laugh or groan. She was so stupid. Making out with Chat with nothing but a pole holding them up? Yes, that sounded like something from her romantic fantasies (which she wasn’t supposed to have with him, but—shh), but she should’ve known better in real life!

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” She muttered.

He hummed thoughtfully. That sound should not have made her shiver, she was just—it was just cold. Even though his body was hot against her back.

Yeah, she wasn’t kidding anyone.

“I could be purrsuaded to forget,” he said to her surprise.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.” His chin rested on her shoulder. “For the low price of fifty more kisses.”

“Fifty?” She choked, face heating. Fifty brushes of his lips on hers, of his laugh filling her lungs— “I—I don’t know. Actually, you’re the one who let go of the staff. I might’ve kissed you first, but you’re the one who should be getting teased.”

“Fair enough. A hundred kisses, then. Fifty for me to forget, and fifty for you to forgive me for dropping you.”

“Bold words from a guy who couldn’t even handle kissing me once.” She would’ve flicked his bell if her arms weren’t trapped over his around her middle.

“Ah, it just means I need more practice!”

She twisted her head just enough to stick her tongue out at him. “You won’t get any practice if you don’t get us down from here.”

“Oh. Uh. About that… I can’t reach the button.” He laughed awkwardly. “You mind untangling us?”

The magical properties of her yo-yo meant she could still retract the string even tangled as it was, but it would take a minute to lasso them back to the baton properly this time.

“Only if you don’t mind falling again.”

“For you? Never,” he said with a quick kiss to her cheek.

She shook her head. She refused to be distracted by him this time, even if his smell was everywhere, more dizzying than their brief fall through the clouds.

“You’re such a dork.”

“But you love me,” he practically sang.

Despite the fact that they were hanging in an awkward position hundreds of meters in the air, her nerves vanished completely.

“Yeah, Kitty. I do.”

(That truth was far more important than learning how far Chat’s baton could extend, anyway.)

[And then next week they beat hawkbutt and ship him and nathalie off to jail and everyone in the whole team comforts Adrien and he and marinette live happily ever after with a hamster]

#ladynoir #miraculous ladybug #ladybug #chat noir #fic tag #tali writes #lovesquarefluffweek2020 #no reveal here lads #other than marinette gettin her feelings revealed to her

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larryfanficwriter98 · 3 years

Text

Chapter Twenty-Two

Falling In Love Through The Phone

It was one of the rare mornings that Louis woke up first. Harry was curled up against his back that he must have turned to him in his sleep. Harry's cheek pressed between his shoulders and his knees lined up with his where they bent together. Everything lined up perfectly and usually Louis would find comfort in it, but this morning, still confused about what happened the past few days, felt suffocated and had the urge to push Harry off of the bed. He didn't of course, but he did climb out of his arms and head downstairs wrapping one of the randomly placed blankets around the house around him before he got outside. He headed to the large basket swing chair and sat in it letting lightly sway as he thought back to through the past few days.

***********

Louis didn't know how long he sat there; he knew it was long enough for his body to get use to the cool air around him. Long enough that he had checked social media and google news enough times to turn his phone off completely.

"What are you doing out here before noon?" Louis turned and saw Harry heading over dressed in joggers and a sweater, "open up let me in." Louis hesitated but opened his arms and legs letting Harry climb in with his back to his chest. Louis wrapped his arms around Harry's chest and kissed his shoulder. It became very clear very fast that they were most certainly not okay and that terrified Louis. Harry tensed when the silence turned stiff instead of comfortable but tried to pretend, he didn’t, and Louis pretended he didn't notice. Harry leaned closer into him and Louis tightened his arms around him.

"Want me to make some breakfast?" Harry asked already leaning to get up.

"No just order it." Louis mumbled pulling him closer, "let's just sit here and cuddle."

"My phone is...I don't know...somewhere."

"That's fine. I'm not hungry yet."

"Want me to hold you?"

"No."

"Before you break up with me can we go to dinner first?" Louis grinned chuckling softly as he pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek.

"I'm not breaking up with you Harry."

"Oh good." Harry looked back at him with a soft smile and Louis kissed him lightly on the lips, "do you want me to stay at a friends for a few days? Give us some space?"

"No but I think I will. Won't be permanent, but ever since you got back, we haven't had time to ourselves. It's not a break and it's not the beginning of an end for us, but some space. I love you and we're okay, well we will be, and you can definitely take me to dinner. At the end of the week away. We can have that first date where you come pick me up looking all spiffy." Harry grinned chuckling

"Okay. Not right now, though right?"

"No, we can cuddle for a while more."

"Good." Harry said snuggling back further though Louis didn't know how it was possible considering they were already pressed together. "Wait a whole week?"

"You'll survive."

"Yeah, but how will I sleep?!"

"The same way you did in L.A?"

"Surrounded by pillows and your shirts and cologne that I stole?"

"You stole my cologne?"

"The spare bottle not the one you're using. I was smart when I stole it."

"I love you dork. But yes, if that is how you need to slept without me by you then sure go ahead and I will steal your sweaters and cologne. In seven days, you can take me to dinner and bring me back home."

"Promise?"

"I promise." Louis kissed Harry sealing the promise, he had no intentions of breaking up, but he knew if they wanted to fix whatever it was that happened, they needed space. They needed a week away. No contact, no texting, no calls, nothing. For now, cuddling in the morning air in the swing Harry bought because Louis sat on it once inside the store was what they needed. After lunch Louis could worry about everything else.

*************

Louis was glad to notice Harry had put up the privacy barrier around the gate, so no one actually saw Louis put his bag inside his car. They did not need that on top of everything else. As far as they were concerned, they fans didn’t need to know anything because there was absolutely nothing to tell. Louis put his laptop bag into the car then turned to Harry who was pouting as he watched Louis put a duffle bag filled with almost every sweater Harry owned and his laptop bag into his car. After many kisses and ‘I love you’s Louis got into his car and headed to Liam and Zayn’s since they were the closest and he wasn’t feeling up to driving the extra ten minutes to Niall’s. When he got there Liam and Zayn had apparently invited Niall over as he discovered when he walked through the front door.

“Why did you invite the Irish?” Louis asked

“Because the Irish loves you.” Niall said standing and opening his arms for a hug.

“We’re not breaking up I don’t need a hug or ice cream or a cuddle. We just need space.” Louis said though he did hug Niall anyway since he was offering.

“Oh, hush which ice cream container do you? We have plain chocolate, we have cookie dough, we have Oreo, we have fudge…” Zayn said as he pulled out said containers from the freezer making Louis roll his eyes.

“Since you have it, I’ll take the chocolate.” Louis said as he headed to the couch and flopped on it.

“You two are okay, though right?” Liam asked.

“Yes, we’ll be fine. I just…want to be away for a bit. Remember that video from uni? I was like really drunk and my ex said he deleted it.”

“He didn’t?”

“No. He sent it to Harry’s management team. They used that to get Harry to L.A. Harry didn’t know until he got there what the whole thing was about though and obviously it’s not something one explains on the phone.”

“Right. So is he upset about-“

“No. No he didn’t care about it, he just didn’t want it publicized and neither do I obviously. He said the person who sent it just wanted money I guess, they paid him and made him sign a contract and that was that but the whole holding hand debacle was already done. Now I’m the jealous lover who outed my boyfriend.” Louis said with an eyeroll.

“Yeah, we saw some of the headlines. Does Harry know what people are saying?”

“No Harry never gets on social media or the internet for that matter. Not since I made stop, it was getting to him when everyone hated him after he ended the tour. If he’s on it’s to post a quick photo of us, then he’s off just as quickly. He keeps telling me I should stop, but I didn’t care too much about being accused of stealing Harry from teenagers. Now though I’m in headlines all over the internet and YouTube videos believe it or not. Fucking gossip channels are saying I outed him before he was ready. What a load of shit.” Louis stabbed his ice cream with his spoon and stuck it into his mouth after getting a large enough piece.

“I mean I knew dating Harry Stylers would come with stuff like this, but to say that I outed my own boyfriend?! To say that I’m keeping him from a woman who could give him kids?! As if I can help that! Harry wouldn’t have been with a woman if it weren’t for me anyway so why the hell, they’re blaming me at all is ridiculous! AND HARRY! Don’t even get me started on him! I swear it’s like he doesn’t realize that I’m the one getting shit on because of his stunt! THEN HE THINKS A DINNER IS GOING TO JUST MAGICALLY SOLVE EVERYTHING!” Louis didn’t know where all that came from and to shut himself up, he shove three spoonfuls of ice cream into his mouth not daring to look over at his mates faces.

“Feel better?” Niall asked.

“No.”

“Well then continue.” Niall said as he shoved his own ice cream into his mouth. Louis remained silent as he watched whatever was on the tv while eating spoonful after spoonful.

“Louis it’s perfectly healthy and okay to be mad at Harry. He’s not perfect you know and admitting that isn’t going to make us suddenly think he isn’t worth of you and it won’t make you suddenly not love him. He’s human too.” Liam told him calmly, Louis looked at him and whatever was in his face made Liam come over to him and wrap his arms around his shoulders, “repeat after me okay?”

“Why?”

“Harry.” Liam said making Louis roll his eyes

“Harry.”

“Is.”

“Not.”

“Perfect.”

“Harry is not perfect.”

“Liam I’ll cut your sack off if you don’t shut up.”

“You didn’t repeat it.”

“Zayn where’s the knife?” Louis asked standing up and Liam quickly hid behind Zayn, “That’s what I thought. I know okay. I know he isn’t. I just- I don’t know. It seems like he should be though. I make him out to be in my head all the time because he almost is.”

“Well, he isn’t. The sooner you get that through your head the sooner you can go home and snuggle your boyfriend.”

#Larry Stylinson #larry fanfiction #larry stylinson fanfiction #larry shippers #larries #larry fic

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raspberryfanfics · 4 years

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concepts (bonus part)—hizashi hyuga

REVIEW ON FFN PLEASE

Warning! This is half crack and also has nejiten. If you want to believe it happened in the story, believe it. Kind of 13+ for lots of innuendos and dirty talking.

“Is it wrong to wish him suffering so we have an excuse to see him?” Asuka asked.

“It feels wrong, but I wish it anyway.” Hizashi sighed.

They peered into the pool where Neji was sparring his teammate Tenten, in a very similar way to how they used to spar. He rotated and she threw weapons from every direction, flying like Asuka used to. Meanwhile, on the other side of the field were the other two of Team Gai, similar in concept to Kenji and Kazane-sensei, who had joined them as well.

Truth be told, though the company of their teammates were nice, it was horrible to see them there so early. It must have been because of the grief of losing two teammates in the same month. It wasn’t that they were suicidal, but they welcomed death by going on missions that were nearly impossible. Kazane-sensei died first as a hero, saving the other ANBU members on an S-rank mission. Kenji had been on an escort with the Third Hokage, and when the Hokage had died, he very willingly transferred his life force into the Sandaime, reuniting the team once more.

The four turned to the two clad in green, thankful that their teammates were not that insane. Gai wasn’t very great at ninjutsu and Lee had no talent for it whatsoever, kind of like how Kazane-sensei lost one appendage and Kenji lost two. Yet that was where their similarities ended. The most ridiculous thing their teammates ever did was throw their prosthetics while Neji’s teammates...well, they were a completely different story. Nonetheless, it was always entertaining to watch them.

In the blink of an eye, Neji had pinned Tenten to a tree, both panting in exhaustion. Their faces were red, they were sweating, and a kunai was still in the young kunoichi’s hand. Their eye contact was harsh and even if Tenten lost the spar, she was still determined to win the staring competition. They stayed in their close position for another minute, making Kazane-sensei yell in frustration.

“Holy us,” she sighed.

The other three groaned at the joke. Their sensei decided that because they were spirits, they were deemed “holy” and that saying “holy us” was the most hilarious thing in the world.

“WILL THEY JUST MAKE-OUT ALREADY?” she cried. “I swear they are even worse than you two and all of your sexual tension and that’s saying something!”

Hizashi grumbled. “You sure we had even half of the tension they had?”

“At least three quarters of it. They look like they’re going to fuck each other with their eyes.” Kenji said as-a-matter-of-a-factly.

“I think they’re doing it right now. Having intercourse with their eyes.” Asuka noted as Tenten bit her lip and slowly looked down. Neji’s chest was slowly inching towards hers.

“We should make sure Lee and Gai don’t interrupt. I swear to us that if they keep it up I’m gonna have flashbacks of when you kids were genin.”

“They aren’t gonna make-out, sensei. They don’t have the balls. It’s just their stupid flirting again, see?”

Just as Kenji said, Neji was asking why she had been distracted this whole training round, as they watched him struggle with his own desires. She was now reddening because of his comment. Tenten suddenly escaped his grip and grabbed his shirt, bringing his face dangerously close to his. Team Kazane could see the prodigy of the Hyuga clan tense up more than ever before.

His mouth was slightly parted and his breath was caught in his throat, to the amusement of the four. With the girl he had a huge crush on that close, he didn’t even see Tenten pull out a kunai and bring it up to his neck.

“Who’s distracted now?”

The weapon’s mistress smirked and Asuka cheered. “I love that girl! She’s perfect for him!”

“You’re supposed to be rooting for Neji.” Hizashi chuckled.

Funny, because as babies in the orphanage, they were in this exact position, though it was clear that none of them had any burning desires at the time. It was just Tenten with a rubber kunai, Neji with his palms forwards in a stupid manner, and him trying to figure out whatever the hell the Byakagun made him see.

“He’s sucking in his emotions. That’s toxic masculinity right there. I expected more from a child of mine.”

“Like Tenten is? She appears to be doing the same.”

“It builds up sexual tension,” shrugged Kenji.

“Can we enter his conscience now?” Asuka mumbled. “I’d consider this a truly desperate moment. Besides, if we just talk to him, it doesn’t really count as actually appearing. You know what they say: bend the rules a little, cut the action a little.”

The former medical ninja sweatdropped. “Asuka dear, no one actually says that.”

“Let’s go screw with his head. This is pure torture.” he agreed.

Before they drifted down, Kazane said they would be listening closely to their “advice”.

Entering Neji’s mind was hilariously fun. The dead married couple were hissing at each other, trying to decide who should talk first. Apparently, their whispers were too loud and it almost ended up with Neji being hit by a kunai from the distraction.

“Look what you did!” Asuka cried to Hizashi. “You almost got him hit.”

“Mother?Father?”

“Hey, Neji,” Hizashi said cheerfully.

“What the hell are you doing inside my head?”

“It’s a desperate time. We come to visit at truly desperate times. It’s just that we hadn’t seen you in over a decade because you weren’t desperate enough, but when you needed me you were actually dying so I had to push you back from the light!”

Asuka sighed. “He did a good job too. Do you know who didn’t do a good job? You. It’s been two years since that stunt you pulled and since the poor girl was weeping over your nearly-dead body, but apparently my son’s a relationship-phobe, so you haven’t even kissed her! You desperately need relationship advice and because even Hinata’s words aren’t working, here we are.”

“Why do I need rela—I’m sparring!”

“Wow, you should be grateful.” Hizashi sighed. “We can’t visit you a whole lot, you know. Can’t you greet your father with any more emotion?”

“I’ll greet you two with a lot more emotion when I join you after Tenten kills me.”

“I think he gets the sass from Kazane-sensei,” he said to his wife.

Neji nearly got hit by another kunai.

“Can’t you come back later? I’d love to talk when I’m not a human dartboard.”

Asuka sighed. “Looks like it’s time to tell you what we came here for. You better make a move, honey.”

A kunai cut a strand of hair.

“Careful there,”

“Shut up!”

“Wow, she’s really good.” said Hizashi. “You’re lucky to have such a talented teammate. She reminds me of your mother.”

“I—”

“She’s very pretty too. Good taste in weapons, great posture, hair looks good so you know she cares about how she presents herself, but practical as well. Perfect kunoichi.”

“This is so weird!”

“She’s pretty attractive. Don’t you think, Neji?”

He paused in his thoughts for a moment, avoiding her weapons.

Hizashi smirked. “Tell her your Byakugan has different perks than seeing far.”

“No!”

“If she tried using her weapons in ways that didn’t inflict pain?”

“Is that even appropriate for a Hyuga to say”

“We have libidos, Neji. Oh! I have a really good one! Tell her that seeing tenketsu points isn’t just for disabling them!”

“Hell no!”

Asuka palmed her forehead at both father and son and sighed.

“Why not?” he pressed, enjoying his son’s torture for the first time in his life.

“I don’t want a ticket to heaven, thank you very much.

“Do some taijutsu.” she suggested. “Left undercut.”

Neji followed his mother’s instructions and Tenten quickly took out a bo for close-combat.

“Hey guys!” a familiar voice said cheerfully.

“Kenji!” Asuka said. “Neji, remember Uncle Kenji? He’s here to help you notice your lovely teammate so you don’t feel awkward with us doing it.”

“Now’s not the time, mother.”

“Yea, says the one who’s constantly bringing his palm near her chest and poking her.”

“Shut up! Is having an uncle making dirty jokes to you even appropriate? Why is that so cliche? Well, besides the fact that traditionally the perverted uncle molests the niece, rather the nephew.”

“I was a medical ninja. I know all the proper terms. Would you like me to use something more scientific? Neji-kun, you just used your gentle fist method to target her 78th tenketsu, the one that is very close to her right breast. I’m sure your testosterone levels have been elevating every time your hand nearly comes into contact with her erogenous zones.”

“Kenji’s good.” mumbled Hizashi. “I’m impressed.”

“Lord Kami, just kiss her already.”

“I—”

“What, you’re telling me that you, a 17-year-old male, have no sexual desires for a hot teammate?”

“I never said she was hot!”

Asuka couldn’t resist. “Oh honey, your face says very much otherwise.”

“MOTHER!”

At the same time, Tenten had been saying something that Neji didn’t catch.

Everyone froze.

Everyone, even the dead spirits in his head, even Tenten, whose face was red in surprise, was frozen in shock. Her fists clenched around her weapons and she looked absolutely terrifying.

“Did you just call me “mother”?”

Neji was so screwed.

He tried to defend himself from the series of sharp weapons, but he was clearly distracted by her.

“Pretty hot when the girl’s mad, huh?” Hizashi spouted into his ear.

“She’s about to kill me!”

“We know.”

The jonin struggled to keep up and she was quickly starting to defeat him. With one last resort, Neji threw his body at her, catching one of the kunai to knock the other away and disabled her tenketsu. He pinned her shoulders to the grass, knees holding her legs to the ground so she couldn’t kick him. His hair was undone and it was hanging from the sides, brushing her face.

Hizashi smirked. “Kiss her, Neji, what are you waiting for?”

And that’s what he did.

The three drifted out of his mind and smiled to themselves.

It was another mission well done by Team Kazane. The only thing was, the making out was much more serious than they anticipated and decided to look away before watching them became an activity that was rated R. Neji and Tenten definitely made-out harder than any of them did, and this was only in the first minute.

#Hizashi Hyuga #hyuga hizashi #Hyuga Hiashi #neji #hyuga #oc #nejiten #crack post #raspberryfanfics

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smokeybrand · 3 years

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Smokey brand Postmortem: You Suck

I don’t really talk about my love for Mortal Kombat near as much as i do for Marvel, Fate, Star Wars, or Batman, but i adore that bloody franchise. Seriously, the vast majority of this blog is just Marvel and Star Wars content but, i mean, I'm an Eighties baby. That was a massive chunk of our childhoods. See? Even in an essay bout Mortal Kombat, Marvel and Star Wars found it’s way into the conversation. I have a problem but that’s not the problem i want to address in this essay. The problem i have with this one, is the f*cking Mortal Kombat release that just dropped. F*ck did they get so much wrong! I haven’t felt this frustrated with a movie since The Old Guard. I wanted this to be a Comparison but, as i tried to coalesce my thoughts about both films, it became mad apparent to me that the Nineties version of this movie would runaway with it. How is it possible that a film which came out twenty-six years ago, sh*ts all over one with modern shooting techniques and effects? How can a PG-13 movie, saturated with tongue-in-cheek camp and constant nods to the camera, do the Enter the Dragon knock-off franchise more justice that the blockbuster, R-rated, third attempt? Yeah, so this is a postmortem now.

Issue: Cole Young

Why? F*cking why? Listen, I'm all for reimaginings. I love when people can take an established work, recontextualize it, and present something new but familiar. That’s why i keep seeing Batman movies. You can only tell that dude’s story so many times but it’s how you present that story which grabs me. I like the idea of Cole. A fresh face for the audience to view these fantastical circumstances through? Good idea. I hate the execution of Cole. Punk ass weenie who literally develops powers by getting his ass kicked, portrayed by an actor who can’t act, but brought in because of his stunt background, only to nerf the physicality of the role, relegating dude’s greatest strength to his greatest weakness? F*cking, why?

Fix 1: Drop Cole Young, Start Liu Kang

Look, Liu Kang IS Mortal Kombat. He’s their Ryu. He’s their Link. He’s their guy. Drop the family. Drop the Scorpion stuff. Drop the professional fight thrower shtick Build him up as a dude who learned all of this in the Buddhist orphanage he grew up in, denying all of it as just legend and storytelling, until he’s attacked by Sub-Zero. Force him to fight Subby-boy, only to get his ass beat without his Arcana, but have Jax save him just in time. Basically follow Cole’s plot going forward with an emphasis on Liu’s training.

Issue: Shang Tsung

Listen, Ng Chin Han is a get. Dude is a decent actor and i enjoyed he take on the shapeshifter but come on? If you’re not trying to do a Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa, you’re doing it wrong. Shang Tsung should be snarky, quippy, and overconfident. This dude has won nine straight Mortal Kombat tournaments. It’s fine for him to be conniving and deceitful, Deadly Alliance, but this version of Shang is just too flaccid for the title. Hell, when Tagawa came back for the game, he STILL exuded that same smarmy energy and it was perfect.

Fix 2: Give Shang Tsung more agency

I, personally, love smarmy Shang Tsung but if you want to go different, go brutal. Make Shang the spear head of the offense. Give him a seen where he is just mowing down jobber monks in Raiden’s temple before getting real intimate with Hung Lao. Have Tsung absolutely brutalized Lao as Liu watches, breaking his neck before sucking the sole out of his limp body. You got an R, Lean into that sh*t. You gotta give Liu that Chan moment. Lao’s death not only establishes Shang as a straight up force, but activates Liu’s Arcana, fulfilling the prophecy.

Issue: The f*cking prophecy

Bro, you gotta get rid of all the Scorpion prophecy sh*t. That doesn’t fit. It doesn’t make any sense. The prophecy is supposed to be a foreshadowing of Outworld’s downfall. Tying everything to Scorpion and Sub-Zero just because Ed Boon loves the character is kind of ridiculous. And that’s coming from me, a guy who uses Scorpion as his main since MKI. I love Scorpion, Dude is my favorite character in the entire franchise but giving him such a prominent role in this first film was a mistake.

Fix 3: Make it the Shaolin Prophecy

Have Shang Tsung send Sub-Zero into the Shaolin Temple with a team of Jobbers, probably Tarkatan or other Lin Kuei, and murder everyone. It is whispered that a great champion, kin to Master Kung Lao, would defeat the armies of Outworld, sealing Earthrealm off from the Emperor's grasp. baby Liu and Kung are saved, sent off to an orphanage in the US where they grow up in an orphanage run by a weird old man who tells stories. Eventually, the two separate, Kung returns to their homeland, Liu stays in the states, and they live their lives. Fast forward a bit and Shang gets wind that there are two survivors and he dispatches Sub-Zero to go after Liu. Fast forward to the temple, Liu reconnects with his cousin, Kung, who explains his powers activated during a battle against, let’s say... Baraka? Raiden feels it, recruits Kung Lao, who has been training in the temple ever since. He spars with Liu, teaching him the secrets her learned from Master Bo Rai Cho, until Raiden’s Temple is singed. Everything lays out like it did in the film except Liu watched Lao die at the hand of Shang, his Dragon Arcana activates, and the Sorcerer knows he dun goof’d.

Issue: Fights

The fighting sucked in this, man. It was shot like none of the principal actors were physical enough to pull off the fight scenes, which is ridiculous, because that opening scene was exceptional and those dues are old as f*ck. The dude who plays Scorpion, Hiroyuki Sanada, is f*cking sixty, man. You’re telling me these youngsters with actual stunt backgrounds, can’t give me a scrap as entertaining as a sixty year old man? Word?

Fix 4: Oh, there’s a lot here, bud

First, shoot the scraps better. Holy sh*t, that Taken editing was stupid. We live in an age of John Wick, The Raid, and Jason Bourne films, but you chose to shoot these scenes like this? Really? Bro, no. Hell, the fights in Enter the Dragon are some of the best I've eve seen and that motherf*cker dropped forty-eight years ago. Just do whatever he f*ck they did, just do it with a modern twist. Two, cast motherf*ckers that can believable execute the choreography. The chick that played Sonya in the first one, had to learn her fighting n set during the downtime of production because she as late to the shoot. THAT chick was a more believable fighter than the dude who played Cole and that was his f*cking job before he was an actor! F*cking, how?? Three, hire better stunt coordinators. These fights needed to be plotted out much better. Sure, fatalities are cool and special moves are awesome but they aren’t necessary. Liu Kang through one fireball in the first MK film and it was ll the better for it. I don’t need giant flame dragons and head claps and sh*t, i just need brutal, intense, violence inflicted upon a person. These people are in the fight for their lives. I need to feel that. Four, hire more jobbers. Too many actual named characters died in this movie. Too many actual named characters appeared in this movie. Why the f*ck was Nitara in this?

Look, there’s still SO much i would change about this flick. The costumes, the tone, the choice in music, the writing; All need to be adjusted. I would hold Scorpion back until sequel. Have him breaking out of the Netherrealm as a post credit stinger or something. This movie is broken and i think that’s because WB just made this thing to secure rights or a a backdoor pilot for HBO max content. Either way, this movie is bad, man and it didn’t have to be. You can make dope ass, martial arts films, on the cheap, especially when you “ground them in reality.” Why the f*ck didn’t that happen here? How the f*ck is the budget so high, and the film so cheap looking? I miss the ingenuity of the Eighties. Cats had to figure out how to make sh*t work because CG was too expensive. Now, that sh*t is everywhere and it’s a detriment to film. That sh*t takes casualties out of practical films and Mortal Kombat is definitely one of those.

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soft-stormcloud · 4 years

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Panic Cord: Please Don’t Say You Love Me [2/3]

Synopsis: When Virgil and his fiancé, Logan, take in Virgil’s ex boyfriend Roman and his boyfriend, Patton, Virgil’s forced to come face to face with his guilt.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Prinxiety, Analogical, LAMP, background logicality

Word count: 3580 out of 8823

Trigger warnings: Implied abusive parents, very heavy guilt, financial problems, potentially unsympathetic Virgil? It’s complicated, everyone makes mistakes.

Part One

Logan was, of course, okay with it.

Virgil dared say he was excited. He took a day off work (he had a lot of personal days saved up) to spend making sure the apartment was clean and inviting, and his office was cleared out for Roman and Patton to move in. Virgil had to move his vanity to make room for Logan’s desk, but he didn’t complain.

When they arrived, Logan pulled Patton into a tight hug while Virgil took Roman’s luggage to carry it inside.

“Is this all you have?” He asked, frowning.

Roman shrugged and followed Virgil into the apartment. He was sort of dazed as he looked around. “Well, I had a few of Patton’s things over at my place, but when he was evicted, his landlord sold his things. I had to be fast to leave so I just filled up whatever I could in this suitcase and we left.”

“I’m surprised you let Patton in your house,” he said as he pushed open the door to what was previously Logan’s study, now Roman and Patton’s room.

“What?” He frowned. “I didn’t.”

Virgil set his suitcase down in the bare room and looked at him in confusion. “You said you had some of his things?”

Roman blushed and looked away. “Just, like, sweaters and stuff.”

He couldn’t hide a grin. “You’re still so sappy.”

“It’s not exactly a bad thing!” Roma pouted.

“I didn’t say it was.” He didn’t bother unpacking the suitcase, leading Roman right back out. “Logan and I called in a favour with our parents- Come with us, we’re getting you some furniture.”

“What?” Roman smiled nervously. “You don’t-”

“You’re at least getting a bed.” Virgil gave him a flat look. “Besides, my mom was way too happy to help. She and Dad actually want to have dinner with you and meet Patton, whenever you’re up for that.”

Roman only blushed brighter. He was embarrassed, but in a good way.

When they went back into the living room, Logan was explaining to Patton how they could afford such a nice apartment.

“Virgil’s and my parents got together and wrote us a cheque for our Christmas present,” he was saying. Virgil stepped beside him and wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist. “They covered half the costs. We’re also pretty lucky with our jobs, they pay us well, and we’ve been saving up for a while.”

As they walked out the door and headed for the apartment’s elevator, Patton looked at Logan curiously and asked, “What do you guys do?”

Virgil hid a smile as Logan lit up, launching into an excited ramble about his job. Logan loved his job, and he wasn’t quiet about it. He didn’t even do anything super exciting or that he’s passionate about; It was just convenient, and well-paying, and easy. He said he mostly enjoyed it because he got to put all of his energy into his studies, and his relationship with Virgil, not having to waste any to pay for basic living expenses.

The four of them went out to a few of the surrounding furniture stores, somehow managing to fit a nightstand, the parts of a dresser and a bed, and a shit ton of hangers inside Logan’s tiny car. They went ahead and used the leftover money to buy Patton new clothes, and a little for Roman, as well.

When Roman and Patton were distracted with the clothes, Logan pulled Virgil aside. “Are you doing okay?”

Virgil frowned in confusion. “Yeah? Why?”

“I just… Know this isn’t exactly what you wanted.” Logan took his hand. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged and ran his thumb across Logan’s palm. “It’s not what they wanted either. It’s not a big deal.”

Logan watched him carefully. Virgil seemed… Truly unbothered.

“Verge, you know you don’t have to answer this, but… Why did you two break up?” He laughed a little and shook his head. “I’m so confused about your relationship.”

Guilt flooded Virgil’s system. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “No, it’s… I don’t want to talk about it.” He did want to tell Logan, both because Logan deserved to know and because Virgil thought he may feel better after getting it out.

But there was always the possibility that Logan would leave him, would find his actions so disgusting and mistrustful that he decided to go.

“It’s okay,” Logan whispered, pulling him into his arms. “Don’t panic, it’s fine. It clearly doesn’t matter anymore, whatever happened. He doesn’t seem mad at you.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Virgil mumbled.

xxx

The next few weeks living with Patton and Roman were… Interesting. For Virgil, most of it consisted of not ever letting himself be in a room with Roman alone, while also making sure Roman and Logan were never in the same room alone. It was pretty exhausting- Not just the act itself, but the guilt that came with it. Was it wrong of him to be stunting Roman and Logan’s relationship so badly? Was he proving that he hadn’t changed at all in he and Roman’s time apart, by doing pretty much the exact same thing? Was his reasoning justified in meddling with the ecosystem of their apartment?

Logan, someone who was always straightforward and blunt with him, didn’t seem to care. Or even notice. He and Patton were growing closer and closer by the day, and if they were a ‘normal’ couple, Virgil would be frightened every time he found Logan and Patton tangled up on the couch, asleep together, or walked in on them talking quietly and holding hands.

For once, it was not because of the guilt. Most things Virgil did in his life was because he felt guilty. But, truly, it was because he would do anything to keep that dopey smile on his fiance’s face, and he wasn’t bothered that he wasn’t the only one to cause it. He and Logan simply had too much love to give that could be dropped onto one person.

One day, Logan, Patton, and Virgil were in the living room, Virgil doing his makeup before work and Patton and Logan doing a puzzle, when Roman burst through the front door with sunshine in his face.

“Love?” Patton stood and smiled, coming over to hug him. Roman picked him up and tossed him a bit, spinning him around and holding him tightly. Logan snickered as Patton squealed. “Woah- What’s going on?!”

“They’re doing auditions for Dear Evan Hansen down at the Carnation, and I got an audition!” Roman set his pink-faced boyfriend down and smiled so wide it changed the way Logan and Virgil saw him.

Virgil had missed that smile.

“I’m auditioning for the role of Connor!” He reached into his messenger bag, a large hole in the side patched up with the scraps of a thin red scarf, and pulled out a clean, new script. It was thin and unlaminated. “They gave me a few scenes to practice for, I need to go right now!”

Patton wasted no time following Roman into their room. Virgil was embarrassed, because half of him tried to get up, too. For a split second, he had fallen back into his old life, his old self, and as terrifying as that was, he still felt ecstatic when Roman poked his head out and said, “Hey, Verge? You wanna come, too? Patton wants to read for Zoe, but you can play Evan!”

Virgil desperately wanted things to go back to how they were, and he desperately wanted to never go back. He was terrified that Roman being here would put him back into old habits, that all the work he had done to change and be better and build a life with Logan would vanish. But he was also so, incredibly, ridiculously happy to have Roman back, and achingly sad in a way that you only feel when you just now realized how much you’ve missed a person. He wanted to be able to pick and choose, to reach back and pluck certain elements out of his old life and drop them into his new one, and forget about the remnants.

But life didn’t work that way.

So as he and Patton helped Roman prepare for his audition, with Logan sitting on the bed with a book, he kind of wanted to cry.

xxx

“I want to be a halfling!” Patton cried in excitement.

They were all crowded around the living room table, Virgil and Logan’s D&D Player’s Handbooks laid out in front of Roman and Patton.

“Okay,” Logan chuckled. He was sitting next to Patton, hand planted beside his hip, so his arm was almost around him but not quite. “Then, here, these are the stats you get, you put those here.”

When Roman and Virgil were still dating, Virgil mentioned a few times how he always wanted to get into D&D. Roman agreed, and they always said they would play together, once they had time and enough friends to make a party. The day Virgil and Logan met, Logan was wearing a Critical Role t-shirt and was buying supplies for his weekly session, a few days out. He offered to take Virgil with him, and the plan was just to watch and hang out but he got along with their party so well and already had an idea for a character, they insisted he started right away.

It didn’t escape Roman’s attention that Virgil ended up doing something they always planned on doing together, with Logan. He was sad about it even though he knew he shouldn’t have been. How could he expect Virgil to have put his life on hold, for a reunion that neither of them thought would happen?

There was still a part of him that felt betrayed. Roman often felt betrayed when thinking of Virgil, and it was so frustrating because he didn’t want to be mad at Virgil, especially seeing him now, seeing how much he’s changed. He was engaged, and happy about it- Excited, even. Every time someone brought up their upcoming wedding, Virgil positively lit up and couldn’t stop himself from attaching himself to Logan’s side.

Although… As betrayed as he’s felt these last two years, as sad and as angry as he’s been… It faded as the four of them spent the night playing D&D, sinking six hours into it, making a clumsy team with Logan as their ruthless DM. It faded away for very familiar feelings to take its place.

That morning, after Patton went to bed and Logan went to work, Roman found himself wandering towards Virgil’s room. He was so confused, and surprised, and he didn’t think he could wait any longer- He had to talk to Virgil. During their relationship, nobody could calm him down and make him see clearly the way Virgil could. He hoped they hadn’t lost that, that all this time apart hadn’t made them strangers.

Virgil called him in after knocking, looking a little wary. He knew it couldn’t have been Logan, so it was either Patton to chew him out about all he did to Roman, or Roman himself, which had its own problems attached.

“Hey,” Virgil said haltingly. “You need something?”

“Not really.” Roman shrugged one shoulder, not able to meet his eyes. “Just, uh…”

Virgil scooted over and Roman took the silent invitation to sit next to him, pulling the covers over his lap. “What is it?” Virgil actually looked concerned, and Roman hated that that surprised him.

“Does it feel… Weird to you?” He risked peeking at Virgil, risked noticing the way his faded purple fell in his eyes and the way he still looked so, so tired. “Being back together?”

Virgil fell silent, and Roman was patient. He knew the face Virgil made when he was thinking, when he was choosing his words very carefully to both say what he meant and spare feelings. His eyebrows scrunched up and he chewed on his upper lip and he looked, just faintly, defeated.

“It does,” Virgil said. “But it’s not… All bad. I just don’t think we were expecting it.”

Roman was relieved to hear that, but it also scared him, because that meant they were thinking the same thing, and that could be dangerous. He thought of Patton, Roman’s ray of sunshine. For a short amount of time, Patton was the only reason Roman stayed alive. He loved Patton fiercely, but that kind of love was familiar to him, and he had been feeling it double lately.

“I bet you got rid of everything.” Roman didn’t mean it as an insult, but he could acknowledge that it definitely sounded like one.

“Actually,” Virgil said, annoyed, “I still have all of it.”

Roman’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. I was going to get rid of it during the move here, but… I don’t know.”

He crawled over Roman to get out of bed, and went over to the closet in the corner of the room. He disappeared inside for a minute, clothes being moved on racks sounding out into the room, and came back with a scrapbook and a shoebox.

The shoebox was unassuming, nothing like the one Roman had spent hours decorating, that still sat somewhere inside his parents’ house, or maybe the garbage at this point. The scrapbook was a lot more exuberant- They made it together. Somehow Virgil ended up with it.

He got back into bed and set the scrapbook into Roman’s lap.

But then they didn’t move.

They both wanted to open it, and they knew that, but something about it felt wrong. Were they making a mistake?

Just as Roman started to contemplate, Virgil took off the shoebox’s lid and tossed it aside. All of Roman’s concerns disappeared at the sight inside.

At the very top, there was a brown leaf that looked like it would crumble with a single touch. On their one month anniversary, Roman took Virgil for a walk, which was really a disguise for a secluded, romantic picnic. He took Virgil down a dirt path with overarching trees, blooming all vibrant shades of green in the summer sun. Virgil wanted to stop, to check out a little alcove of trees off the path, and they ended up staying there for longer than planned. As they made their way out, Virgil plucked a leaf off one of the trees and stuffed it in his pocket.

Now, Virgil reached down to pick it up, and under the weight of the wind it shattered, all over a card Virgil had made for Roman’s 19th birthday.

They both snickered, and Virgil dropped his head back, frustrated and happy. Roman flipped open the cover of the scrapbook. The first picture was from Roman’s 19th birthday, about two months into their relationship. They both had writing and scribbles all over their arms, Roman’s in purple, Virgil’s in red. Virgil squinted to try and read some of it.

In red, Don’t Forget Your Meds!! <3

In purple, audition at 2:30. see you there

There were drawings, random scribbles in red and little icons and comics in purple. Their arms were like that in most pictures, and in a picture they had taken at the park, where Roman had Virgil picked up with one arm, a little ink peeked out under his raised shirt, on his tummy.

Looking at these pictures, Virgil had never felt so dumb.

After they finished looking at the pictures, neither of them felt like letting Roman go back to his room. Guilt gnawed at Virgil’s insides as he and Roman scooted close to the wall, leaving enough room for Logan when he got back from work. They fell asleep with their legs tangled and their bangs brushing together.

When Virgil woke up, it was like he had never gone to sleep. A blink of time passed and he peeked over Roman’s shoulder, worried Logan had gotten home and gotten angry, left to sleep somewhere else, and was only mildly relaxed to find him there in his usual spot. He had actually scooted closer than he had to in order not to fall off the bed, almost spooning Roman.

Virgil laid there until Logan woke up. The morning was one of Virgil’s favourite times to spend with Logan, because Logan was sleepy and affectionate like a cat, and they often spent the mornings drinking coffee in silence. Just being in the same room was often enough for Virgil.

It wasn’t like that this time. Virgil could barely look at him. Was he angry? Was he going to accuse Virgil of cheating, or wanting to leave him?

He knew Logan would never have this conversation without at least a cup of coffee, so he stayed quiet. Logan prided himself on being able to articulate himself, and he couldn’t do that when he was tired.

After a little bit of Virgil stewing, and cooking breakfast for four, Logan finally turned to him and said, “What’s going on? You’re freaking out.”

“Was that inappropriate? Are you mad?”

Logan hummed and turned off the stove, putting the pan on a different burner. “I think for normal couples, the answer would definitely be yes, and we would need to have a talk.” He opened up his arms and Virgil sunk into them, resting his head on Logan’s shoulder. “But we’re not normal. Does he make you happy?”

That wasn’t a question Virgil was prepared for. Maybe that was stupid, but it wasn’t that he didn’t know the answer, it was that he wasn’t sure if he earned the right to say it.

But this was Logan. He was always safe with Logan.

“Yes.”

“Do I still make you happy?”

“Yes!” Virgil pulled back, looking at Logan in concern and panic. “What kind of question is that?!”

Logan cupped Virgil’s face in his hands and kissed him, just firm enough to keep him grounded, to remember where he was. Virgil rested his hands on Logan’s waist and sighed into it, kissing him back.

“We tell each other before we do things,” Logan mumbled.

“Right. And the other has to be okay with it.”

“And I’m okay with it. And the other has to know the new person. Don’t I?”

Virgil swallowed and nodded. “Yes. And it goes both ways.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Logan whispered. “But if you really can’t shake that feeling, then we should have a different conversation.”

Virgil and Logan had put their polygamy into practice before, but never for anything serious or long-term. Virgil felt guilty about a lot of things, it pretty much ruled his life, but this had never been one of them.

“Morning, guys,” Patton said as he wandered into the room. Virgil and Logan pulled away so Virgil could make Patton a plate while Logan greeted him.

Patton and Logan ate their breakfast and then headed into Patton and Roman’s room, because Logan promised to help Patton prepare for his job interview and then drive him there. While Virgil was making his own plate after finally getting hungry, Roman came into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he said nervously.

Virgil glanced back at him and then forward. “Hey. Are you hungry?”

They sat next to each other with their plates of food, and ate in awkward silence. When Virgil went to reach for his drink, Roman set his hand over Virgil’s. He didn’t remember the last time his heart had jumped so high, or so much excitement flooded his system.

“I have my audition today,” Roman said quietly. “Are you busy?”

Virgil was walking on eggshells. Everything lately felt like a decision, like one way or another his life was changing, and he had to make the decisions without knowing what it would lead to.

“I’m not busy,” he settled on, because it was the truth.

Roman linked their fingers together, and Virgil squeezed his hand. Virgil thought of what Logan said, that he was okay with it- And suddenly Virgil realized that he himself might not be. As Roman leaned closer, Virgil jumped out of the chair and scrambled to grab his half empty plate and head into the kitchen.

“Actually, I just remembered that I, uh, have a lot of stuff to get done today,” he stuttered, fumbling for a tupperware to put his leftover food into. “Sorry, I, uh, can’t make it. Sorry.”

“Virgil.” Roman frowned and stood, coming over to him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, I just- I can’t make it.” Virgil slid his food into the fridge and put his dishes in the dishwasher. He tried leaving, but Roman was blocking the way out of the kitchen. “I can’t make it, okay?”

Roman looked at him in frustration, and hurt. Virgil hated how familiar that was. Of all the things Virgil wanted to see again now that Roman was back in his life, that was last on the list. “Do you think- Maybe we should talk about what happened? Because you’re acting-”

“No!” Virgil’s eyes widened. “No, what? What are you- There’s nothing to talk about. How would that help?”

“Virgil, if you don’t want to be with me, that’s fine, but-”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Virgil insisted, and he kind of felt like crying.

Roman stared at him for a moment, as if waiting for him to change his mind or say he was kidding. Then Roman grabbed his keys and his jacket, and walked out the door.

Reblogs are better than likes

#roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #prinxiety #analogical #lamp #virgil #roman #patton #logan #hurt/comfort

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katahnisharma · 5 years

Text

the press tour [9] | t.h.

Word Count: 5.4 K

Warnings: lmaoo I cannot write choreography

Summary: You’re a new, inexperienced actress plucked from the obscurity of everyday life to play the lead in the reboot of a famous British Jane Austen novel, and Tom Holland just so happens to be playing your love interest.

A/N: Here it is, the Lip Sync Chapter, sorry it took so long! I may be taking a break next week because school is starting, but we’ll see. Also Tumblr apparently won’t let me link things so if you’re looking for my masterlist, playlist, taglist (closed), or writing challenge it’s in my bio ♡

“Y/N! Come on, get up!” Someone threw a pillow and it landed on your head. You startled awake, groaning when the curtains were pulled back. Bailey was standing by your bed, ripping the covers from your body. You winced at the contact with the cool air, and nearly screamed when you realized there were multiple people standing in your bedroom.

“Oh my god! Why are there people in my room?” You squeaked, drawing the covers up to your chest self consciously. You were wearing clothes, but you suddenly felt very naked. Bailey sighed, sitting down next to you.

“Y/N, it’s Lip Sync Battle day. D-day remember?” She said, and then it dawned on you. Today was the day. Your eyes widened, as you remembered the million things you needed to do.

“Crap, I was supposed to get up early to get ready. What time is it, where are my clothes?” You sat up frantically, ignoring Bailey’s eyes rolling at you. The group of people were situated around the foot of your bed, assessing you and whispering to each other.

“That’s what they’re here for. They’re going to help you get ready, do your makeup and everything.” Bailey said, and one of the women came forward with your first outfit. It was a sparkly rainbow jumpsuit, with a pair of butterfly heels. You had been very careful to pick a pair of shoes that looked good but were also comfortable since you were going to be dancing for a while.

“Shall we start, ma’am?” The woman asked, signalling to her team to start unpacking their equipment. You nodded silently, not sure what else to say. The crew kicked into high gear, rushing around with cases of makeup and hair products. One woman brought out a short blonde wig and handed it to you. Bailey got up and patted your shoulder.

“I’ll wait outside. You’ve got three hours.”

Tom hadn’t slept a wink all night. He was preoccupied with thoughts of you. Everytime he tried to sleep, Tom began to dream of you. He’d wake up and then you were gone, as though it was a mirage. It was driving him mad.

“All good in here?” Harrison called, sticking his head into the room. Tom was putting on his flannel and his brown tassel jacket. Sure he looked ridiculous, but that was the point. Harrison wandered in and took a long look at Tom.

“Wow, that’s some outfit.” He snickered, feeling one of the tassels. Tom rolled his eyes, not in the mood to snap back. He was tired and upset from the events of yesterday. David almost couldn’t get him to stop crying, it was like once he started the waterworks wouldn’t stop. He felt so idiotic, sitting there pining for you when he was the one who had screwed it all up in the first place. And now there were pictures of Adrian in jewelry stores, and it made him nervous. Maybe he was buying a ring to propose, it wouldn’t be unheard of. Tom wanted to throw something at the wall, anything to relieve the pain.

All he wanted was you. But he couldn’t have you, and it was his own fault.

“Fuck off.” Tom growled, pushing past him. Harrison frowned, watching Tom disappear into the bathroom and come back with a cowboy hat. If it had been under different circumstances, Harrison would have laughed. But after seeing the way Tom was, he decided against it.

“Mate, what’s wrong?” He asked while Tom stared at himself in the mirror. Tom closed his eyes, trying to calm down. But then he saw you and he blinked them open. God, he just couldn’t escape you.

“Nothing. It’s fine,” Tom whispered, wiping away a stray tear. Harrison came to stand behind him, turning Tom around. His eyes were red and Harrison could see the bags under his eyes. He looked like hell, and Harrison knew why.

“When are you just going to ask her?” Harrison asked, and Tom stormed past him. He stuffed his phone in his pocket, ignoring Harrison completely.

“Can we just leave, we’re going to be late?” Tom said, grabbing his bag. Samual was waiting outside with the car, and he was a stickler for punctuality. But Harrison knew his best friend was going through something, and he was going to find out what.

“For God’s sake Tom, just tell her what you saw. Tell her how you feel, before Adrian decides to take the next step!” Harrison pleaded, and Tom whirled around. He was seeing red, not for his friend, but for himself. Harrison was right, it was all on him to fix this. But he didn’t know how.

“I can’t, Haz! What am I going to say? I was looking at your phone and I never told you? Or how about this whole thing with Zendaya is fake, a publicity stunt so that I can get over you? And look how that’s worked out, because I’m still in love with you and you’re dating someone else? It’s over! I had my chance and I blew it, she’ll never forgive me!” Tom shouted, chucking his bag at the wall. Harrison sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Y/N deserves an explanation, whatever it is. You take her on a date, act cold, and then rebound with Zendaya? God knows what she must have thought, and I know she’s still upset because I’ve seen the tweets. You need to tell her something, I don’t care what it is. She’s my friend too.” Harrison finished, not really sure where all that had come from. He loved Tom, but he loved you too. It hurt him to see his best friends like this, when they should have all been together.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to her today, after the show.” Tom said, and that was all he was going to say. Harrison followed him out of the house, trying to match his pace. But Tom was fast, wanting for the first time to get away from Harrison and his questions.

Because he was right. And that really bothered him.

“Well, I think you’re ready.” One of the makeup artists handed you a mirror, and you gasped.

Thank God Bailey had called them in, because there was no way you’d ever have been able to replicate anything close to this. Your skin was flawless, dusted with a light shade of pink glitter on your cheeks. Your eyelids were done in a blend of pink, scarlet, and orange, like a painted sunset. Thivya, the woman who did the majority of your makeup, had swatched your lips in a glinty soft pink, blended in with a bit of purple.

“Wow, it’s incredible! Thank you so much!” You squealed, tilting the mirror at different angles. With the sparkly jumpsuit and your butterfly heels, you definitely looked the part. For the first time in days, you began to feel much more confident. This was yours to win, you could feel it.

“All good in here?” Bailey asked, waltzing in with her clipboard. She stopped dead in her tracks, a whistle leaving her lips. You spun around, the sequins catching the light. The crew clapped a little, and Bailey took a video for your instagram.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s go nail this thing!”

The stage was set, the lights were on, and you were sweating in your dressing room backstage. You had your crew with you, Bailey, Adrian, your mother whom you hadn’t seen in weeks, and it was the only thing keeping you sane. There were hundreds of people screaming your name not a hundred meters from you, and your nerves were kicking in.

“Hey, you’re going to do amazing.” Adrian said, taking your hand while you paced the room. You smiled at him, grateful for the support. You knew he had a project he was filming, and him coming to see you meant a lot. Your mother liked him too, which was obviously a plus. Bailey was talking to someone on the phone, waving her hands around like she was frazzled.

Which she was, but she’d never tell you that.

“Thanks, I’m just so nervous. I’ve never danced in front of so many people, not to mention the millions watching at home. And Tom was incredible last time, I don’t know how I’m going to compete with him.” You said, picking at your dress. Even now, you had no idea what songs he’d picked and it was making you frustrated. You had no idea what you were going up against.

“So? Tom may have won last time but there’s no guarantee he’ll do it again. You’ve been practicing for weeks, don’t sell yourself short.” Adrian replied, getting you to finally stop moving. Fidgeting was your defense mechanism, but you knew that if you wanted to do well you’d need to calm down. Your mother nodded, drinking her cup of coffee silently.

“He’s right, honey. You need to calm down, it’s going to be fine.” She said, putting the cup down. She crossed the room and came to stand in front of you. With a sigh, you melted into her arms, hugging her tightly. She still smelled like lavender, that perfume she’d worn since you were a kid.

“Y/N? Showtime, babe.” Bailey called, opening the door for you. Adrian gave you a hug, your mother joining in as you followed your assistant out the door and to the stage.

“Damn, that’s some outfit.” Zendaya laughed, dodging a water bottle Tom threw in her direction. Harrison chuckled too, stealing Tom’s cowboy hat and trying it on. As he had expected, the hat looked ridiculous on him too. Tom groaned, regretting asking his best friend and fake girlfriend to be his support group.

“Stop, you’re hurting my feelings.” He grumbled, taking the hat back and smoothing down his hair. Zendaya rolled her eyes, scrolling through her instagram as Harrison helped Tom with last minute adjustments. The actress looked up, a wicked smile on her face.

“Well, at least Lil Nas X will notice you this time. I mean, how could he not?” She giggled, taking a video for her story. Tom laughed, whirling around to flash a smile at the camera. Harrison was about to protest, saying that Lil Nas X was way too cool for Tom, when the door opened.

“Tom? You’re on in two minutes.” Samual said, poking his head in.

“Shit, how do I look?” Tom asked, feeling his old nerves return. He shouldn’t be this anxious, but he had no idea what you had planned. Sure, Tom had won the battle before, but everyone loves an underdog.

And you were a really pretty one.

“Stupid, but that was already a given.” Zendaya said, and Tom flipped her off. Harrison took a look and felt confident that Tom looked as good as he was going to.

“You’re fine, just go out there and do your best. And don’t forget to talk to Y/N after, I mean it. “ Harrison said, straightening the hat a little. Tom nodded, smoothing down his tan leather jacket. Zendaya looked up from her phone, suddenly interested in the conversation.

“What are you going to say?” she asked, looking confused.

“I’m going to apologize for everything, it wasn’t fair to her. I won’t tell her about this obviously, but she deserves an explanation.” Tom said, and Zendaya agreed. She liked you and knowing that the whole thing hurt you made her upset. You didn’t deserve that, nobody did.

“Good, I want us all to be friends. Y/N is sweet and good and I like her wayyyy more than you.” Zendaya said, returning back to her phone. Tom sighed, giving Harrison a pointed look.

“Everyone does apparently.”

You stood behind the curtain, your palms so sweaty you were glad you didn’t have to pole dance. Bailey stood next to you, talking to the coordinator to make sure everything was set up. You saw LL Cool J somewhere, but you were too nervous to say anything. Chrissy Teigen had already introduced herself, and after you had found your voice you introduced yourself too. She had apparently been following the press tour and thought you were adorable.

Which must count for something, since it’s Chrissy Teigen.

“You good?” Bailey asked, breaking you out of your reverie. You smiled and nodded, lying through your teeth. She smiled and waved over LL Cool J, who gave you an enthusiastic hug.

“How you doing, kid?” He asked, shaking your hand firmly. You told him you were excited to do this, which was only partially a lie. He wished you luck, and before you knew it he was gone and through the curtain. There was a partial silence, before you heard him tell the crowd to get ready for you and Tom.

“Hey.” You turned and realized Tom was standing next to you, wearing the most ridiculous outfit you’d ever seen. He looked at you and internally screamed. You looked so gorgeous, and all he wanted to do was fall on his knees and beg forgiveness. Momentarily you forgot to be mad at him and burst out laughing. He groaned as you fell on the floor, trying to cover your mouth.

“Oh. My. God. You look so stupid!” You giggled, wiping tears from your eyes. Tom smirked, trying not to laugh with you. You stood up, biting your lip to keep from making any more noise. Bailey was eyeing the two of you suspiciously, hoping you wouldn’t kill each other before the battle started.

“Shut up, it’s part of my dance. I’m supposed to be Lil Nas X.” He said, watching your jaw drop. If he was Lil Nas X, did that mean…….

“Wait, YOUR SONG IS OLD TOWN ROAD?!” You asked, and Tom went red. You almost had a heart attack, realizing that you had to go up against Tom dancing to Old Town Road. This whole thing could end up being a bloodbath.

“Yep, my trainer said it would be a good idea since it’s so popular. What are you supposed to be, a unicorn?” Tom asked, looking you up and down. You blushed, realizing that the jumpsuit was a little shorter than you thought.

“No, I’m Taylor Swift. I’m doing You Need To Calm Down.” You said, checking to make sure your heels hadn’t loosened. Tom silently cursed himself, Taylor Swift was always a crowd favorite. He was suddenly wondering if he might lose his title this time.

“What’s wrong, afraid to lose in front of your adoring fans?” You teased, watching Tom shake his head. You felt more confident now, and you were ready to be cocky. Tom snorted at your remark, forming a comeback.

“No, but I’d get as many people to comfort you when you do. Even the other guy, the one before Adrian.” Tom said, happy to get you squirming. You quirked an eyebrow, wondering what Tom meant.

“What do you mean other-?” The curtain opened before you could finish, and LL Cool J and Chrissy Teigen stood there motioning you forward. You plastered on a smile, walking out with Tom to center stage.

“Tom Holland and Y/N Y/L/N everyone!” The crowd cheered as Tom bowed and you curtsied. There were flashing lights everywhere, cameras taking photos of the two of you. It was almost too much, but then you remembered what you came here to do.

Bury this guy.

“So, who’d like to go first?” Chrissy asked, looking at the two of you. The crowd was silent, watching you and Tom. Tom smirked, gesturing to you.

“Ladies first.” He said, grinning as you rolled your eyes. LL Cool J handed you the microphone, and you cocked your head to the side. The crowd was hooting, but you weren’t going to let him get away so easily.

“Please, let’s see what you got. Unless you’re afraid I’ll upstage you?” You said, laughing when the crowd went wild. People were whistling and oohing, and Tom couldn’t help but chuckle. You looked so cute when you were being competitive.

“Fine, I’ll go first. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He said, brushing past you and making goosebumps rise on your skin. You shivered and walked off to the side with LL Cool J and Chrissy, taking a stand while Tom got ready. Zendaya was behind you and you waved, which she returned. The place went dark and your breath hitched, not sure what Tom would do.

Then the backing track began to play, and the crowd went nuts.

There was Tom, dressed in his cowboy outfit and holding a lasso. You stifled a laugh, when the lights behind him burst on revealing his backup dancers dressed as horses. You could hear Harrison die behind you, and Adrian cheered next to you.

What a clown.

The crowd cheered as Tom tilted his hat, cracked the lasso, and sprung into his routine. It was insane, watching him dance. It was both amazing and the cringiest thing you’d ever seen. The audience was lapping it up, even you were enjoying it. The way he moved was hypnotic, and you caught yourself staring at his butt in chaps a few too many times.

What are you doing? Get a grip!

Your face flushed, realizing Adrian was standing next to you and holding your hand. Tom kept looking over at you two, his face falling slightly when he noticed how close you were. He was trying so hard to nail the routine, but he was getting distracted by you. One of the background dancers lifted him up and helped him crowd surf, throwing his hat into the crowd at a screaming fan. When he got back on the stage, Tom decided to do something on the spur of the moment.

He waltzed up to you, pulled you by the waist and brought you close to him. His eyes pierced through your own, and he looked down at your lips. For a moment, you both just stood there breathing softly, and then Tom smirked and was gone leaving you breathless. Adrian fumed behind you, but he put on a good show for the camera.

You on the other hand just stood there, like a deer in the headlights. The music was still playing, but it was like you couldn’t hear anything. You took a step back and locked eyes with Tom again, who grinned at you.

Did he plan this?

Tom strutted around the stage, eating up the audience’s reaction. But best of all, he got a rise out of you and he loved it. The look on your face, one of pure neediness made him feel cocky. Tom doubted Adrian could do that to you. And it made him feel something wicked.

With a swivel, Tom turned around and dropped to the floor, whipping his head back and forth to the music. He knew that he was doing well because the crowd was screaming, even more so than when he did “Umbrella”. With a final move Tom finished and took a bow. One look at you confirmed how nervous you were. Adrian noticed and put his arm around you protectively, glaring at Tom. He shouldn’t have been happy about it, but it was funny how much Adrian despised him. You blushed and looked away as Tom came over, stopping a foot in front of you. The cheers stopped and the room went silent, waiting for Tom to speak.

“Let’s see what you got.” Tom smirked, taking a bow and brushing past you slightly. The contact made goosebumps rise, and you tried to keep your focus. But it was so hard to do that when Tom was inches away from you, his gaze burning through your back. It suddenly became very hot, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks again.

“Are you ready, Y/N?” LL Cool J asked and Adrian kissed your cheek. Before it would have made you smile, but it felt cold and strange. You nodded, waving to the crowd as you walked to the center of the stage, striking your beginning pose. The lights dimmed and the crowd’s noise lulled, and you began to sway back and forth.

3, 2, 1, Let’s go bitch!

The lights flashed on and you strutted to the front in sync with your backup dancers. The crowd went wild, screaming your name as you claimed your confidence again. It must have been the practices, because your routine was flawless and you’d never felt better. With a whip of your hair, you were off.

Swaying your hips, you ran a hand down your leg and whipped your head back up. Your backup dancers picked you up and spun you around, giving you a bit of air time as you landed on your feet perfectly. Your heels clicked across the floor and you pumped your hand in the air, drawing your hand across your waist and then moving it to snap as your legs spread. The ceiling opened and a flurry of bank notes fell from the sky. You caught one and tucked it into your top.

The audience screamed.

Tom nearly died at the sight, especially when you seemed to lock eyes with him for a moment. Biting your lip, you ran a hand through your hair as you grabbed onto a pair of hoops hanging from the ceiling. Steadying yourself, you spun around, and crossed your ankles. You dropped one hand and let it graze your leg. The music had you shaking your body almost unconsciously, it was like it was ingrained in you. A burst of colored powder covered the stage and you danced through it over to Tom, who was biting his lip pretty hard.

Who’s going to lose now?

You locked eyes with him and smirked, noticing him squirm. With a laugh you pushed him backward, turned around and flipped him off. Tom gasped as the crowd went nuts, and you looked over your shoulder, giving him a wink. Adrian howled his head off and Zendaya burst out laughing, watching Tom go red in the face. LL Cool J and Chrissy were eating it up, getting the camera to keep their focus on Tom. You walked back over to the dancers and jumped around, leaping onto the swing and flying over the audience. Your legs dangled and you spun through the air throwing dollar bills. It was just like that scene from The Greatest Showman, and it was as fun as it looked on screen too.

When you swung back onto the stage, the lights went out. With a smile, you brought out the lighter in your pocket and flicked it on, the light illuminating your face. You winked, blew it out, and the room burst into cheers as flurries of confetti rained down. Your team was going crazy, hugging each other and running out to hug you too.

Finally, it was over.

You could barely walk as you stumbled over to LL Cool J and Chrissy, who jokingly bowed to you. Tom was behind them, grinning at you which you chose to ignore. Adrian rushed out and kissed you, holding your face in his hands. You smiled into it, and the audience cheered your name. The kiss broke and you realized Tom was rolling his eyes at you. You stuck your tongue out at him and Chrissy came over with the belt in her hands, LL Cool J behind her.

“Quiet please!” The room went deadly silent, and you held your breath. Tom was a little nervous too, not expecting your dance to be that good. You didn’t even need Taylor Swift to make an appearance, it was just that good. He was mentally shaking his head, he shouldn’t have underestimated you.

But who knew you had that in you?

“This one was wild, I have to say. But we have a winner, and it’s not what we were expecting.” Chrissy said, looking at LL Cool J. You bounced up and down on your heels as the crowd leaned in, waiting for the winner.

“Y/N!” Chrissy yelled, and the room erupted. You clasped a hand over your mouth, completely speechless. Chrissy put the belt on you, which weighed a ton, and you smiled at the crowd. You couldn’t believe it, you’d beaten Tom Holland at his own game.Tom shook his head, but he couldn’t help smiling. You were good, and he’d admit he’d been beaten by someone superior.

“Sorry, Tom. But I guess you just lost your throne!” LL Cool J laughed, slapping him on the back. Tom chuckled, watching you shake hands with a young fan in the front. His heart swelled a little when you smiled and gave them one of your rings, but he tried to tamp his feelings down.

“Yeah, but I don’t mind. Y/N was better, she deserves it. But next time, I won’t let her win so easily.” He teased, elbowing you in the side. You gave the crowd a look and punched his arm, which made Tom pretend to be hurt as he rubbed his arm. Zendaya came out and hugged you, saying she loved your performance. You thanked her and looked around for Adrian, who was waving at you from the box.

“Anything you’d like to say, Y/N?” Chrissy asked and you took the microphone hesitantly. Everyone waited for you to speak, and you sucked in a breath. You looked over at Bailey, who was smiling at you proudly. Adrian was next to her, wearing the same smile and you suddenly knew what to say. And then there was your mom, beaming at you along with them.

“I just wanna thank my amazing team, they’re the reason I did so well, and my mom and boyfriend for making it out here. Bailey, I love you and I’d be lost without you. And also Shruti, my dance instructor who basically killed me at practices, but it paid off! Also, thanks to my fans who are always supporting me, I love you all!” You blew an air kiss and handed the microphone back to Chrissy.

“Well, thanks for voting everyone, and go see Emma in theaters soon! That’s all for Lip Sync!” Chrissy said, and everyone waved to the cameras. Finally the cameras cut off and the stage crew was ushering everyone backstage. You rejoined Bailey, Adrian, and your Mom, slipping off your heels and going barefoot. The crew congratulated you, some asking to take pictures which you happily obliged.

You were about to head back into your room to change when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around and came face to face with Tom again, all alone in the hallway.

“Can we talk?” He asked, running a hand through his slightly sweaty hair. It shouldn’t have been that hot, but you started to wonder what his hair felt like on your skin. You shook your head, upset that you’d let yourself think of Tom that way when you had an amazing boyfriend waiting for you.

Whatever the two of you had was over, for good. He’d made that clear.

But God, why did he have to be so goddamn attractive all the time?

“Um, sure.” You said, telling everyone to wait for you. Tom let you walk next to him, sitting down in a chair by the door to your room. You sat down next to him, smoothing down your jumpsuit nervously. No one was around to hear whatever he was going to tell you, and that made it worse. You could feel your resolve crumbling, and part of you wondered if you should be out here with Tom alone.

“So….you wanted to talk?” You asked, playing with your rings. Tom looked over at you and you swore he was shaking, but maybe it was your eyes playing tricks. But he did look nervous, and that made you feel a little better. You weren’t the only one unsure about this.

“I just wanted to say…” Tom started, but he felt the words catch in his throat. He’d prepared what he was going to say for days now, practicing with Harrison so he wouldn’t trip up. But when it actually came to it, Tom found he just couldn’t do it. You were making him so nervous, he didn’t think he’d be able to finish what he wanted to say.

He wanted to tell you he was sorry, for everything. For the way it ended, and for how quickly he “moved on” with Zendaya. He wanted to apologize for teasing you and being so rude, and making everything between you so awkward. That’s what he wanted to say, that’s what Tom had thought about for weeks. That and you, Tom had never stopped thinking about you.

But as soon as you sat next to him, your hair falling over your shoulders and your eyes on him, Tom just couldn’t do it. There was something about you that was both alluring and intimidated, and for the first time in his life, Tom was scared.

So when he opened his mouth, he said something else entirely.

“Zendaya wants us to go on a double date. You and Adrian and the two of us. She says we should all hang out more, do you want to go out this Friday?” Tom blurted out, immediately panicking when the words left his mouth. You looked stunned and confused, searching his face for signs of a joke. When Tom just stared back at you, looking visibly uncomfortable, you opened your mouth to respond.

“We’d love to.” A voice said from behind you, and you turned to see Adrian standing behind you. His jaw was clenched, boring holes into Tom’s head. You laughed awkardly, watching Tom smile nervously. You had to do something quick, otherwise the situation would become a tinder box.

“Yeah, tell Zendaya that’d be nice.” You said, standing up and taking Adrian’s hand. Tom frowned slightly, hating the way Adrian caressed your hand with your thumb. But he’d pushed you away, and what did he expect? Of course someone would move in for the kill. Adrian glowed triumphantly, slinging an arm over your shoulder. Tom nodded, focusing his gaze on you instead.

“Great, I’ll, uh, tell her.” Tom mumbled, watching you and Adrian go back into your room. For a moment, he just stood there, his head in his hands as he realized what he’d just done. He grabbed a pillow and threw it at the wall, silently cursing himself for being so stupid.

He’d practiced the damn speech with Harrison ten times, and now he’d just asked you to go on a double date? How did he even do that? Tom had the urge to scream, but the walls were so thin you’d hear and he didn’t want to give that smug bastard the satisfaction. Tom skulked back to his room, trying to figure out what to tell everyone.

“Tom! There you are! What was up with that thing you did during the dance, I don’t remember seeing that at rehearsals.” Harrison joked, but he stopped when he saw Tom’s face fall. Zendaya looked up, concerned because Tom was now pacing the room. She touched his back and Tom flinched.

“Hey, what’s wrong? If it’s about that move you pulled, it’s okay nobody’s saying anything.” Zendaya said, showing Tom her Twitter. “They think it was funny, that’s all.”

“It’s not that, I just did something really stupid.” Tom said, collapsing onto the couch. Harrison stood next to Zendaya, the two of them exchanging glances. Harrison was the first to speak, thinking it must be about the talk.

“Is it about Y/N? What did she say when you told her?” He asked, probing for information. Tom groaned, getting up again and standing by the counter. God, he just wanted to melt into the floor right now.

“I didn’t get to because I choked. But that’s not the worst part.” He muttered, and Zendaya took over. She sat down on the counter next to Tom, quirking an eyebrow when he turned away from her.

“Tom, what did you do?” She whispered, and Tom took a deep breath. Harrison sat down, preparing for what Tom was about to say. “Tom, what happened?”

“I just asked Y/N on a double date.” Zendaya inhaled sharply and Harrison cursed, Tom slowly turning back around to face them. “The two of them, together on Friday.”

“And she said yes.”

TAGLIST (let me know if you want to be taken off!): @tommyparkerr @grandmascottlang @toms-order @darling-parker @spiderboythomas @cutiehollands @peeterparkr @jupiterparker @inlovewithmob-tom @veronicas-littleworld @da5haexowin @sergeantbxrnxs @hazsterfield @itsholyholland @underoosstark @stormyholland @let-me-luve-you @smexylemony @roses-and-sweaters @musicgirl234 @its-livelovelife @steve-thotgers @tiny-friggin-human @lovelyh0lland @blueberry-butterscotch @keylla-dunspeh @lucille-lovely @yeahbutmarvel @lokiislowkeyhot @spideymood @yoharryyouawizard @tomhollanders2013 @celestialparker @letthembehappymcu @jnej @spiderman-n @positiveparker @winterssoldierrs @heycreehere @galaxy-parker @sdrecsfics @doimakeitthroughthenight @wronglanemendes @brokensimpson @naikia @spnsoap @ninetypoundsofasthma @quitetommy @voltronshepard @marvelismylifffe @iluvmesomemarvelndc @annathesillyfriend @tiredfeels @scarlet-spiderr @hedwigthelegend @renesniajazza @bibliophile-grasshopp @tomhollandswhoremain @yeeterbenjaminparker @juliabuenooo @paradoxparker @pokeloisfk @machomango13 @parkerstylesperalta @mcuspidey @nobledoritoman @cosmicdaya @hey-its-grey @toms-gf @cutesparker @whypeterparkerwhy @sunshinehollandd @sunshineandparker @starksparker @hollandroos @blissfulparker @xxtomxo @pastelpeter @nobledoritoman @nnatasha @parkerpuffwrites @hollandsosterfield @hillsnholland @peterplanet @hopespym @peterstrainingwheels @parrkerspeters @stuckonspidey @jacobsbatalon @prkerspeter @aw-hawkeye @spideypeach @spxderbarnes @stealth-spiderr @uglypastels @darlingtholland @spideyflicker @thollandss @blissfulparker @maryjparkers @curlytoms @marvelous-maddi @trustfundparker @clockblobber @asmilinghopelessromantic @i-don’t-wanna-go-mr-stark @marvel-language @zaynjawy @sholla4-314 @beautyandflannel @lemondropirwin @angelbabymed @captnsmarvels @in-the-corner-coffee-please @peterbparkcr @william-stanley @greenarrowhead @squishyhyunjin @bibliophile-grasshopp @juliabuenooo @pokeloisfk @machomango13 @starz-23 @spoopy-spooderman @whatevsholland @aestheticstom @tomzfrog @ppunderoos @spiderkat1248 @embrace-themagic @v-valz-n @dancingoncrackedhearts @imspiderparker96 @mlt2000 @cordiebirdy @headsup-itsmostlypeter @sspideytom @yellow-inlove @kisses-holland @hardestbattles-strongestsoldiers @infamousmany @omgbstudies @theefactorygirl @aelinashryvver @sarah-moss2015 @keepmeholland @fandomdarlings @yourwonderbelle @rexorangecouny @deni-gonzalez @mylifeasafangirlforever @random-writer06 @stretchkingblog97 @sweetlyth @notethereal @pachuh @fandoms-stuff @petesrparker @yavinmoon @sweet-baby-cakes @noswagswag @l-melancholy-breeze-l @peteunderoos @jubaydahk @jackiehollanderr @yadekms @starkslovebot @practicallylivesonline @i-tried21 @stasye @unorganizedasf @1-800-back-off @tomshufflepuff @beequeen8020 @mejustbeingme @fanboy-tom @mimaligrl @theimpossiblehologramtree @diamonddia-mond @qrangr @parkeroffline @peterpumpkinparker @peters-vlogs @rosieredcheeks @tiny-friggin-human @delicately-important-trash @zabdisamor @peterbrokenparker @the-lost-fairy-tale @everestluke @gigilame @youllbemineandillbeyours @cherryblossomcharlotte @paintingbellarke @teawithbucky @miraclesoflove @let-me-luve-you @tomhaz @multi-worlds @clara-licht @ppkrtingle @laurxn-robinson @a-court-of-dreams-and-hopes @theirmidgardian @screamstillscreaming @ddaeing @ineedalittlehappiness @briiiiseyda @sincerelymlg @officiallygeek @maybemona @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @lowkey-holland @particularsof @saturn-aka-six

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#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland series #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #the press tour

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losingmymindtonight · 5 years

Text

Whump: Hostage

AN: Y’all I mean it when I say that this one is long. It’s over 11k. So, if you’d rather read it on the AO3, I’m linking it right here.

Just a little housekeeping before we proceed! This is set post-Endgame, but with a few tweaks to pieces that I didn’t like, because this is fanfiction and I can do that. For one, Tony’s alive. Steve did not go back to Peggy. Bruce is not... that weird Hulk/Bruce thing.

This is technically a continuation of my last bingo square, which was AU: TV/Movie! You don’t need to have read that for this to make sense, but it would definitely help! If you haven’t read that other fic, just know that May died sometime after Endgame and Tony adopted Peter.

There’s a little ‘bonus scene’ at the end of this, from Natasha’s POV. It’s my version of an end credit scene, I guess. If I’m being honest, I don’t even know why it’s there, but it is.

This boy is long, and some parts are edited a lot better than others. Did I mention that this thing is 11k yet? Because it is, and I think I’ve gone insane.

EDIT: I’m a dumbass and I forgot to mention that this one is based off of a West Wing episode, just like the last square. If you’re a West Wing fan and it feels familiar, that’s why!

WARNINGS: kidnapping, mentions of date-rape drugs (but no sexual assault, just a brief mention near the end, and not in reference to something that actually occurred), non-consensual drug use, a couple mentions of alcohol, lots and lots of ruminations on a missing persons case, discussions of death (I don’t think there’s anything too graphic, but it’s there).

“Suma cum laude from Columbia. Columbia, Rhodey. Did you know that their acceptance rate is 5.1%? That’s the second most selective college in the Ivy League.”

Rhodey didn’t look nearly as impressed as Tony thought was appropriate. He just took a sip from his whiskey, tone dripping with sarcasm. “So you’ve told me.”

“That’s more selective than MIT.” He gestured with his own glass, although his was filled with some of Morgan’s apple juice. “Their acceptance rate is 7.9%. That’s a 2.8% difference.”

“Yes, Tones. I, too, am capable of basic math. Even though I did graduate from MIT, which is obviously the inferior institution here.”

He glared. “Yeah, well, did you know that Peter graduated on a 4.0 GPA? You know how hard it is to graduate on a 4.0 GPA at an Ivy League school?”

“I don’t know. Probably about as hard as graduating on a 4.0 GPA at MIT. Which I did, by the way.”

“Are you ever gonna let that one go? I’m the visionary of a generation, but I got one B in an English class and my best friend does a mutiny.”

“Yeah, well, your son managed to make an A in English.”

“He did, didn’t he?” He grinned, still drunk on the memory of Peter in his cap and gown, leaning down so that Morgan could adjust the tassel. “I think he made a 99 in that course, too. He’s smarter than you and me, Rhodey. I’ve been telling you that for years.”

Rhodey held up a hand, stalling him. “I’m sorry, you remember the exact number?”

“Of course he remembers the number, Rhodey,” Pepper sighed, slumping down at Tony’s side with a glass of wine in her hand. “He used to pin the screenshots from Canvas up in his office.”

Used to? He thought, a little incredulous. He still had them there.

“Listen,” he griped, “there are worse crimes than a father being proud of his child. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Sure,” Rhodey said, not even trying to conceal his amusement. “By the way, I thought that his security detail did a good job of blending in today. If I didn’t personally know all of them, I wouldn’t’ve suspected a thing.”

Tony snorted. “Let me tell you something: when it’s your kid, you don’t want them to blend in. You want them carrying a sign that says, I’m carrying a loaded gun and the safety’s off.” He swirled a finger around the rim of his glass. “But, yeah. I think Peter even managed to forget about them for most of it, which was the goal.”

“His speech was lovely as well,” Pepper interjected. “Very polished. He’s grown up a lot.”

A dagger of nostalgia pierced through him. “Oh, don’t remind me. I swear that I was coaching him through his first awkward date just a couple of days ago. What the hell is he doing going off to California all alone? It’s ridiculous.”

Rhodey snorted. “Sorry, I don’t get it. Are you proud of him or are you trying to lock him in the house and never let him out? I’m just trying to make sure that we’re all on the same page here.”

A chime from Rhodey’s phone interrupted the conversation. The man glanced down at the screen, expression darkening at whatever it was that he found there, and then quickly excused himself.

Tony didn’t really think anything of it. Rhodey got a lot of calls and texts that weren’t pleasant. It came with the territory of being such a high-ranking Colonel in the military. Nobody on Earth would call that a relaxing job. Plus, he still flew the occasional mission as War Machine. Not every superhero was quite as ready to leap into retirement as Tony had been.

Minutes trickled past with Rhodey out of the room, and Tony and Pepper found themselves constantly circling back to their favorite topic: their kids. They (well, it was mostly him, but Pep joined in occasionally) reminisced and complained, in the pride-struck kind of way, about the bittersweet upheaval that the upcoming months would bring to their lives. It was nice. It was quiet. It was a taste of the peace that he’d fought for through all those years as Iron Man.

Isn't that the mission? Isn't that why we fight? So we can end the fight? So we get to go home?

He’d ended the fight, and the endgame had been so much better than he could’ve ever imagined. When he’d said that to Steve, he hadn’t even had a home. His home had been the Avengers, even if he wasn’t ready to admit that to himself. But after Thanos, after hanging up the armor and looking into a future, a real future, he’d built a home. He’d built a home out of a dozen scattered bricks: the scarred shambles of his and Pepper’s baggage-laden love affair, a pregnancy test that was never meant to be positive, and a frightened, orphaned teenager with nowhere left to go. He’d taken those foundations, and he’d built and built and built until they were sheltered. Until they were home.

The pain of letting Peter leave, of releasing his grip and watching him run off to California to be his own person, to build his own home, his own life, was such a new, privileged kind of pain. It hurt, but in a gentle way. In the way that good things sometimes ached in the beginning, before they settled into a normalcy.

Tony had just decided that he’d be happy to live through a hundred moments of Peter graduating college (just so long as he could feel this proud with each repetition) when Rhodey surged back into the room, chest heaving.

He knew, somehow. He knew from the moment he saw the look on his best friend’s face. He knew even before Happy, who was not supposed to be here, who was supposed to be with Peter at some graduation party in the city, came barreling in at his heels. He knew.

Maybe it was a father’s intuition, maybe it was just paranoia, but he knew, and that knowing was the absolute worst thing in the world.

Everything froze.

“Rhodey?” He set his glass down on the coffee table, half-rose from the couch, wanting to ask but desperately not wanting to hear the answer that came after the asking. “What’s-”

“Tony, it’s Peter.”

The world had broken into color and chaos. The drinks had been cleared away, the coffee table in the living room swiped clean. Pepper was in the kitchen, babbling on the phone to about a dozen different people at SI, trying to organize whatever and whoever she could. The team was on their way: the new and the old. He’d spoken to Steve for a stunted 30 seconds, had pulled himself out of his adrenaline just long enough to process his promise of I’ll be there in an hour before hitting End Call.

He was sitting on the floor, now, back pressed against the couch, clutching the TV remote in his left hand for no reason other than to be holding something.

“Is Morgan still in her room?” He whispered, because that was… that was all he had left. God, he couldn’t live without one of them, how would he possibly survive losing them both?

“Yeah, Tony.” Happy seemed hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how much information he was meant to be revealing. “Pepper checked on her. We’re letting her sleep.”

“Okay. Okay.” He closed his eyes. Tried to steady himself on a home-grown foundation that had just lost one of its most vital supports. “Okay. Tell me everything.”

Rhodey knelt beside him, hand heavy on his shoulder. “Tony, are you sure that you shouldn’t-

“Yes, I’m sure,” he snarled, although he wasn’t really sure what he was sure about. He wanted his child back? Yeah… Yeah. He was sure about that. He was sure about regretting the fact that he’d ever let Peter leave his sight. “Now, will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Happy sighed, pushing the coffee table out of the way and joining Rhodey on his knees in front of him. It was funny, in a horrible, morbid, stomach-twisting sort of way. Three of the most high-powered men in the country were kneeling on the floor, falling to pieces because a single kid was missing.

“He was with his friends, at a club,” Happy started slowly. “We had two of his guards in there with him, blending in and keeping their distance, and a group of six more stationed on the outside. He got up to go to the bathroom. One of the guards followed, the other stuck by his friends so they could have eyes on him when he came back. We don’t really know what the hell happened after that. As far as the guards saw, he never came out of the bathroom. One of them went in after about ten minutes, checked all the stalls. His phone was on the floor, but he wasn’t there, so they raised the alarm. We scanned the perimeter, and found skid marks and one of the external guards down by the kitchen’s loading area-”

Tony hated panic, hated situations that threw him in the deep end like this. He wasn’t used to being slow, to being one step behind everyone else, but that’s exactly what this was. He was handicapped, stuck in molasses because this was his child. There was nothing… There was no way that the word efficiency could slot into the haze settling over him.

“What, uh,” he shook his head, trying to clear it, to knock his thoughts into something orderly and complete, “what do you mean, one of the guards was down?”

“They’re dead, Tony,” Happy breathed, and even though his own turmoil, Tony could see the pain on the man’s face. “Whoever took Peter shot them in the head. By the time we got to the scene, there was nothing we could do.”

Peter’s never going to forgive himself for that.

He didn’t even have the presence of mind to feel guilt over the fact that his only concern was for Peter. The guard… he’d feel bad about that later. He’d compartmentalize it, because it was selfish and horrible and very unheroic, but nobody mattered more than Peter. Nobody mattered more than his kid.

“Why… Why didn’t he hit his panic button?”

“That’s the question.” Happy scrubbed a hand down the front of his face. Every inch of him looked tired, like he’d been running on empty for weeks and weeks and weeks, except it hadn’t been weeks. It had only been a few hours since Peter had been taken, only a few minutes since Tony had been told, but it felt like… it felt like decades. “We found it out in the alley, a few feet away from where we think the getaway car must’ve been parked. He never pushed it.”

“He didn’t push it?”

“No.”

It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. Sure, Peter could be a brat about security sometimes, but he did use the resources he was given. He’d hit the panic button multiple times before. Why didn’t he do it now? Why?

He shook his head again, swallowed hard past the lump growing in his throat. “So… So he knew them. He must’ve.”

“Or… Tony, you know I don’t wanna be the person to break this to you, but he was drunk. He’d already had about half a bottle of champagne and a few shots by the time he was taken. One of the guards said he was stumbling when he got up to go to the bathroom, and his friends told us that he seemed pretty wasted.”

That shouldn’t have mattered. Peter was… he was 22, for god’s sake. He’d just graduated valedictorian from Columbia. The kid was allowed to drink some champagne, to get a little-

“Wait, no.” He ran a few numbers through his head, cold and ice and dread sprouting up in his lungs as they refused to compute. “That… he was stumbling?”

“Yeah. That’s what one of his detail said, at least.”

“No, that… that doesn’t make sense, Hap. He… He shouldn’t’ve been that out of it already. His… His metabolism. It’d take more than some champagne and a few shots to get him that drunk. He’d need… He’d need something else.”

Realization snapped over Happy’s face, and he lunged to his feet, kicked the leg of the coffee table irritably when it got in his way. “Fuck. Shit. Why didn’t I think of that? They drugged him. They must’ve.”

Rhodey rubbed Tony’s shoulder, his calm presence the only anchor in wave after wave of helplessness, failure, fear. “Then they were inside the club. Or they had someone helping them.”

Happy was nodding restlessly, already working furiously on his phone. “I’m gonna call the guys on the scene, tell them to detain the bartender and anybody else who might’ve had access to the kid’s drink. And I’ll have someone get his glass and that bottle of champagne for testing.”

“You go,” Rhodey said, slipping forward to settle down at Tony’s side. “I’ll stay here. Hold down the fort.”

“Got it.”

Happy was rushing for the door. Tony could still hear Pepper talking in the kitchen. The team must’ve been most of the way to the cabin by now, scrambling over themselves because this was… it was all too much. Too awful to comprehend. Tony’s brain couldn’t process it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Peter just… wasn’t going to come home. Wasn’t going to walk through the front door, a little tipsy and a little unbalanced but fine. Safe and loved and present. Ready to fly off to California at the end of the summer and leave a very, very proud Tony behind.

“Happy?” He called out, voice rough. The man went stock-still in the doorway, just barely turning to let him know that he had his attention. “Call me as soon as you know anything? Even if… Even if it’s bad. Just… please. Call me.”

That’s my baby, he thought, chest constricting at the bone-crushing loss of it all, if he’s dead… if he’s… if he’s never coming home, then I need to know. I need to know.

“I will, Tony. I promise.”

The Avengers blew into the cabin like a choreographed hurricane.

Tony had rarely had a chance to admire their efficiency from afar. He was usually on the outskirts of the disasters, working alongside them. But now he was the disaster. He was ground zero.

Rhodey brief them on what they knew so far, and the living room was quickly transformed from a haven of fireplace and colorful throws and family movie nights into a control room. The only thing that wasn’t touched was the couch Tony was leaning against. He didn’t even realize that it was because of him until Steve sat down on the carpet, brow furrowed in concern as he set a cautious hand on his knee.

“Tony, I want you to let Bruce examine you.”

He scoffed at the suggestion, bitterness rolling over him so suddenly that he felt swamped by it.

“And I want my child back,” he snarled. “Guess tonight’s just gonna be full of disappointments for all of us, huh?”

“Tony.”

“Don’t even start with me, Rogers.” He didn’t know why he was being so cruel to Steve. The man didn’t deserve it. He was just… the closest target. The easiest thing to despise. “I’m just not in the mood.”

“Tones,” Rhodey whispered, dropping down pacifyingly between him and Steve, “listen to me. You know that your heart’s weaker after the Snap. If I’m hauling your ass to a hospital, I’m not looking for your kid. We’ve gotta prioritize, here.”

Even in this state, Tony was clever enough to know when he was being manipulated.

Luckily for Rhodey, he was just too goddamn tired to care.

“Fine,” he growled. “What the fuck ever. Just do it.”

Rhodey was right, unfortunately. He didn’t have time for a heart attack right now, didn’t have time for his body to be anything but functional. After they brought Peter home, well… then it didn’t really matter anymore.

He blinked up at the ceiling, ignoring Bruce as he tugged out his arm, clipped something onto his finger.

Bring him home, he prayed, although to who, he didn’t really know, please, just bring him home to me.

Apparently, his blood pressure was high.

Everyone seemed pretty damn concerned about it, which was just… honestly, it was hilarious.

Did they think it wouldn’t be high? His child was off god-knows-where with god-knows-who, probably drugged and confused and afraid and desperately in need of his father, and Tony was supposed to be calming down for the sake of his blood pressure?

His blood pressure could go screw itself, for all he cared.

Of course, nobody else seemed to share his viewpoint. They all fussed over him. Pepper tried to get him to do some bullshit breathing exercises, while Bruce called Cho and bickered with her about medication and preventative measures.

He really didn’t know how to explain to everyone that there was only one cure, and it was his child, safe in his arms.

Until that happened, there wasn’t a drug or a pill or a yoga technique in the world that could save him.

Happy burst into the room without any ceremony.

“I’ve got the results from Peter’s drinks.”

Tony staggered upright, shoving Clint’s hands away as the man tried to steady him. He felt breakable, like a single touch might send cracks down his spine, into his bones and down through the ground. Like one wrong move might split him apart.

“And?”

Happy winced. Physically winced, like the words he was about to say weighed a thousand tons. “They found gamma hydroxy butyrate, more commonly known as-”

“GHB,” Tony finished, and he was surprised by how numb he felt at the news. It should’ve terrified him. At the very least, he should’ve felt something. Instead, he just stared at it clinically, chemical formulas and sterile facts filling his head in place of the things he just couldn’t think about. The things he didn’t want to face. “It’s degreasing solvent mixed with drain cleaner.”

God. Drain cleaner. Someone… Someone had given his kid drain cleaner.

“Exactly,” Happy said, voice small and unsure. “And in low doses-”

“In low doses,” he breathed, “it’s a date-rape drug.”

Pain streaked across his old bodyguard’s face: a cocktail of guilt and terror and shame. “Yeah, Tony. It’s… It’s a date-rape drug.”

He swallowed. “That’s, uh, that’s why he was stumbling. Why he didn’t hit the panic button.”

Happy nodded. “Yeah. From the looks of the doses, it was probably meant to knock him out, but with his metabolism…”

Tony finished the sentence in his head. With his metabolism, it probably just made him feel awful, sick, confused. He probably wondered what the hell was happening to him. He probably wanted me.

“He was awake when they took him,” Tony whispered, nauseous. God, he was awake when they took him.

“That’s our best guess. And, uh, Tony…. Listen, I don’t really know if I should be telling you this, but-”

“Tell me,” he ordered, voice somehow sharp and resigned all at once. He… He had to hear it. He had to hear everything. It didn’t matter if it gave him nightmares for the rest of his life, didn’t matter if it was the worst thing he’d ever heard.

It was the only link to Peter that he had.

Happy was silent for a few seconds, then let out a defeated breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Peter’s phone. Tony knew it was his because of the case: pink and green and godawful to look at. The kid had only bought it because Morgan had liked it so much.

“We’ve gotten all we can from this, so I thought I’d give it back.” He handed it over, and Tony slid his fingers over the case, borderline reverent. He could still imagine it in Peter’s hands, or charging on his bedside table, or getting tossed onto the couch in favor of playing a boardgame with Morgan. Tiny, insignificant snippets of life, and yet they mattered so much. They’d mattered so much. “We think he was using it when they grabbed him.”

He tilted the phone to the light, watched his reflection warp in the glass screen. “What was he doing?”

“He was texting you.”

Something icy gripped his chest. When he finally managed to force words up his throat, his voice came out hoarse.

“What’d he say?”

Happy just gestured at the phone, expression pinched. “Bathroom didn’t have any service, so none of them sent, but it’s all still there. We didn’t delete anything. D’you know his passcode?”

“Yeah,” he said. Peter just doesn’t think that I do.

“Okay. Well, I’m… I’m gonna get back to work. I’ll come back if we find anything.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to read it, Tony.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Alright.”

He heard rather than saw Happy move away, just barely caught him murmuring, “don’t let him spiral,” to Rhodey before he left.

Sure enough, Rhodey was right beside him within a few seconds, voice lowered in a guise of privacy, despite the fact that the room was still packed with Avengers, all pretending not to watch but definitely watching.

“Tony, it’s late,” he whispered. “Don’t do this now. Get some rest, and you can face it in the morning, if you really have to.”

“No,” he said, more forceful than he’d intended, but then again, Rhodey just didn’t understand. He was holding his child’s last words in his hands. How could he not read them? What kind of father would he be if he didn’t? “No. I need to do this now.”

He left the living room before anyone could stop him.

Happy’s car was already gone by the time he got to the front porch. He briefly considered settling down in one of the rocking chairs, or the porch swing, but every one of them carried a dozen memories of Peter, of summer days and fall nights and laughter and warmth and the kid’s head pressing heavy on his shoulder and he just couldn’t. He couldn’t face them.

He sat on the floor, back pressed up against the cabin, knees drawn to his chest.

He unlocked Peter’s phone. The brightness was up, but it automatically adjusted after a second or two. He opened the messages app, clicked his contact icon, and read.

hey tony? i thimk i fucked up (ERROR: not delivered)

i feel super super gross (ERROR: not delivered)

:( (ERROR: not delivered)

plz dont be mad i didnt mean to grt thsi drunk (ERROR: not delivered)

ugh fuck batgroom service (ERROR: not delivered)

i just kinda wish u were here to yell at me rn (ERROR: not delivered)

The front porch was nice at sunrise.

He’d spent so many hours out here, with Morgan and Peter. Both of them tended to be up early: Morgan because she was a child, Peter because he carried things that no child ever should. He’d sit with them, curled up under one of the afghans Pepper liked to buy from pop-up markets, and watch the sky become an oil painting.

That’d be a pretty smoothie, Morgan would say, pointing at the horizon, and Peter would laugh like she was the funniest thing in the world.

And what would it taste like, Mo?

Like a smoothie!

He heard the door swing open to his left, and while he knew it wasn’t Peter, a tiny part of him wanted to keeping pretending.

“Tones?”

Rhodey. Right. Of course it was Rhodey. Who else would come out here this early, ready to pick his ass up off the floor?

“Did you find anything?” He rasped, still staring out at the lake, watching the daylight step into the clouds, wishing he was watching Peter instead.

“Not yet.”

He just barely inclined his head in response. The answer should’ve hurt him, should’ve stung or panged or something, but it didn’t. After a while, pain just become pain. There wasn’t a scale anymore, wasn’t any room for additions or levels. There was just pain. Pain, and a family missing child. That’s all Tony had.

“I need you to tell me something,” he whispered, then swallowed. His throat scratched, dry and hot, “and I need you to be honest with me when you answer.”

Rhodey sat down beside him, leg braces glowing gently in the yellow-red dawn. “I can do that,” he responded, solemn.

“Do you… Do you think he’s already dead?”

Rhodey’s answer came immediately. “No.”

“Are you lying?”

“If I thought he was dead, I’d tell you.”

“Do you promise?” He balled up a fist, resisted to urge to slam it through the nearest object. “If you… If we reach a point where you think he’s dead, do you promise to tell me?”

He knew he was asking a lot. He could tell, because Rhodey’s breath caught, and he paused. Considered.

“Yeah, Tony,” Rhodey murmured, with all the enthusiasm of someone bartering away their soul. “I promise.”

“Good.” It wasn’t, but it felt like the right thing to say. “This is… This is bad, Rhodey.”

“Yeah, Tony, I know.”

He dropped his head into his hands, strained and exhausting and defeated. Peter was all it took, and Iron Man was down, decimated, conquered.

“If… If they show me a picture of him alive,” he whispered, and he knew he was saying something awful, admitting something dark and frightening, “and then they tell me to aim missiles at… at some hospital full of refugees on the Syrian border, they’re counting on the fact that a father would-”

“But you wouldn’t.”

His head snapped back up, and he nearly laughed at the conviction in Rhodey’s voice. God, had everyone really forgotten who he truly was? The heroism of Iron Man was an act. It was a stage curtain, drawn down to hide the monster underneath. Tony Stark was not a good man. He was certainly not a selfless one.

Yet he was so good at pretending that even his best friend believed the ruse.

He turned to stare at Rhodey, voice low. “I might.”

And that might be the most important thing I’ve ever said to you.

The corner of Rhodey’s mouth quirked up, like some part of this was actually amusing to him. “There are people around you who won’t let you.”

He couldn’t possibly be this good at deception. Had Rhodey actually forgotten? Had he forgotten that Tony hadn’t always been an Avenger, that the Merchant of Death was still a title that haunted him? Somedays, he was almost certain that he was more Merchant of Death than he was Iron Man. More a war-profiteer than he was an idol.

“What about a picture?” He said, because he didn’t know how to stop. He’d never known how to stop. “They’ve got a knife to his throat, and they tell me to send a Jericho missile to a bunker in Afghanistan?”

Rhodey shook his head. “You shouldn’t think of images like that.”

This time, he did laugh. Rhodey flinched, concern etched in every inch of his face, because yeah, Tony probably looked like he was losing his mind. And wasn’t he? His child was missing. There was no sanity to this.

“All I can think of are images like that.”

“Tony…”

“I know it's a strange time to bring this up,” he said, and he knew it was abrupt, but nothing seemed quite so linear anymore, “but I forecasted this once. I made up a scary story a few years ago for Peter so that he’d take his protection seriously, and I… and I went too far. And I scared him.” He let out a breath, years-harbored shame rising in his chest. “And he cried. And this… this was the story.”

“Tony-”

“I’m supposed to keep him safe.” His shoulders jerked, his breath hitched. He bit his knuckles to hold back a sob, ribs creaking under the strain of keeping it in. “That’s… fuck, Rhodey, that’s my only job. I’m supposed to keep him safe.”

“You can’t protect him from everything.” There was a pause, hesitant. “The world doesn’t stop spinning just because he’s your child. He’s gotta find his way just like everybody else, and you were letting him do that.”

He wished it was as easy as that, as straightforward and simple to navigate, but it wasn’t. Once again, they’d found their way back to the same frustration he’d been helping Peter cope with for years: being a Stark was not normal. Nothing around them would ever be normal. Sure, the world didn’t stop spinning, but they had to operate differently inside of it, just because of Tony and his curse of a last name.

The money was nice. The fame was even pleasant, every once in a while. It certainly had been when he was young. But now? God, Tony just wanted quiet. He didn’t want this for his children. He’d give anything to drop off the radar, live in some middle-class neighborhood, buy a lawnmower, argue with Pepper about school districts.

“But they took him because he’s my child,” he pushed. They took him because they know it’ll break me. “This… This wouldn’t’ve happened to another kid, Rhodey. You know that.”

“Maybe not, but it did happen, and that’s what you’ve got to work with. Now, come inside,” Rhodey ordered, slicing a knife down on the conversation, as if ending the words could end the horrors still playing through Tony’s head. “Come inside, sit with your wife, and let us fix this.”

There is no fixing this. This will never be fixed.

But instead of staying that, he just did as he was told, and hoped that the next few hours wouldn’t bring him doing something awful in Peter’s name.

It was such a pure name, washed clean by kid who carried it. It didn’t deserve to be sullied by Tony’s true nature, by the darkness he dragged behind him like a chain.

God knows that enough had already been sacrificed on that altar.

It was daylight, and there were reporters outside.

Happy and his guys were keeping them back. Apparently, they’d released details of Peter’s kidnapping to the press in the hope that someone might’ve seen something, that they’d come forward with information. In these kinds of cases, one detail, one first person account, could be the difference between life and death.

They’d set up a hotline, and the team was already chasing a few leads, but the reporters were chasing the story, the sensationalism of it all, and Tony hated it.

His child wasn’t a headline. His child was a child. A living, breathing, precious person. Something be cradled and adored and protected. Not something be exploited for a melodramatic hook.

Pepper and Steve would talk about it in tense, hushed tones. A couple of the Avengers had gone out to talk to the gathered press, just once or twice, but Tony didn’t have a clue what they were saying.

What did other parents do when this sort of thing happened? When their child was taken from them? He remembered a few high-profile kidnappings, all distant and wobbly in his head. What did they do? Did they print flyers? Did they give interviews? Did they beg?

Wait. Wait. That’s… That’s exactly what parents did.

They begged. They pleaded. They told the kidnappers that they’d do whatever they wanted, as long as they got their baby back.

He staggered to his feet, a little wobbly but emotions finally hardening into something tangible, something he could focus on.

There were only a few things on Earth that Tony Stark was willing to swallow his pride for, and this… this was one of them. His children would always be one of them.

He was going to beg.

He only made it about four steps towards the cabin’s door before the team noticed. There were a solid few seconds of scattered glances, a rapid exchange of responsibilities, until Natasha stood and took the lead.

“Tony?” She grabbed at his arm, expression somehow soft and fierce all at once. “Tony, what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna make a direct appeal.”

The whole room went silent. He made the mistake of glancing at Clint’s face, and the raw pity there made him want to scream.

“Tony,” Nat said, voice quiet, coaxing, lowered like he was stupid, “you can’t.”

“I’m his father,” he choked out, because at the end of the day, that was the only thing that mattered, the only explanation that he should ever have to give. “I-I don’t even know why I’ve waited this long. I-”

And then Steve was there, reaching for his other arm, voice as calm and solid as it always was.

“Come on, Tony, let’s think this through-”

“Get away from me,” he snapped.

“Tony-”

“I’m going to make a direct appeal,” he repeated, and even he knew that he sounded like a broken record, but he just… all he could see was Peter. The stupid grin on his face earlier that day, when Morgan had barreled into his chest and he’d scooped her up off the ground, spinning her like she was the one who just graduated, like she was the most valuable thing he’d ever held. “I don’t know why I waited this long.”

Nat sounded a little desperate now, pulling hard at his sleeve, warning. “Tony, I know that you’ve convinced yourself that you’re doing what’s right, but you’re not thinking straight-”

And then there was Pepper.

She planted herself between him and the door, firm and solid and Tony knew, he knew that he wasn’t getting past her. He knew it from the moment he saw the look on her face: devastated and loving and calm.

“Stop it, Tony,” she said, soft and kind.

He grabbed for her, taking fistfuls of her shirt and clinging. He felt like a little kid, confused and lost and alone. He was navigating whitewater rapids without a map or a paddle. He couldn’t… He couldn’t do this. People weren’t built to survive this kind of thing. It wasn’t possible.

“I… I have to make a direct-”

“No,” she murmured, cutting him off. “No, Tony, Natasha’s right. You can’t.”

“Why not?”

He had meant for the question to be abrasive, angry, but it just came out broken.

“It can be seen as negotiating with the people who took him,” Pepper said, not apologizing, not pulling punches, “and if their goal is to destabilize us, or Stark Industries, or the Avengers, then they're going to see you and know that they're succeeding.” She let out a breath, composure cracking just a little, just at the corners. “You… You can’t make a direct appeal.”

He knew she was right. He’d known she was right long before he’d even made the choice to do it.

It still felt like he’d been torn in two.

He sank to the floor. He was vaguely aware of Natasha grabbing his elbow, guiding him down so he didn’t hurt himself. She pushed him up against the wall, then stepped away, gave him the room he needed to crumble.

“Honey,” Pepper whispered, voice hitching, hands tracing down his face. He didn’t know when she’d joined him on the floor, but he… he was so glad she was there. He was so glad that someone was still there. “Honey, I…”

“I’ve seen other fathers do it,” he croaked. “Before. In… In other kidnappings. I’ve seen other fathers do it.”

“I know.”

“I thought… I just thought that, that maybe if I tried, then I would’ve… then I would’ve done something.”

“I know.”

“I can’t stand not doing something. I have to be doing something.”

“I know that, too.”

His eyes jerked up, meeting hers in a clash of long-harbored panic. “Pep… What if he’s…”

“He’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re not other fathers,” she said gently, a sad smile on her face. “Other fathers make direct appeals because that’s all they can do. They’re going to want to negotiate, Tony.”

“I… I can’t negotiate, Pep. Not… Not for him. How could I?”

“I know that. That’s why I’m going to do it.”

He blinked. That was… a good idea. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. Pepper had never, ever lost a deal that mattered. Ever. She had a spotless track record. And while she loved Peter, she wasn’t as shredded by this as he was. Her head was still above the water, at least for now.

Pepper had joked, once, a little bitterly, that Peter was all Tony’s kid, she just helped out with the details. He knew that wasn’t entirely true, of course. She’d stepped up for Peter in ways that had mattered beyond her comprehension, but she wasn’t entirely wrong, either. Peter had been his kid long before he’d been Pepper’s. And that changed dynamics. It had to.

“You have to bring him home.”

“We will, Tony,” Pepper said, and Tony wished with everything he had that he could drown himself in her belief, her faith. “We’re going to do everything we can to bring him back to you.”

He tried to ignore the fact that, as promises went, she’d just given him a pretty unstable one.

Tony was still sitting on the floor, staring blankly into nothing, when the alert chimed in.

He didn’t think anything of it, at first, and he supposed that he’d been doing a lot of that tonight. Staring past the obvious, overlooking the signs because ignorance was so blessed and calm compared to knowing.

But then Natasha’s face went hard, and she was waving for Steve, and then he was waving for Rhodey, and then he was waving for Pepper, and Tony realized that something had just gone very, very wrong.

He staggered upright, making a beeline for the rapidly growing group huddled around Natasha’s laptop. He couldn’t see past their shoulders, couldn’t even hear what they were saying, because so many voices were intersecting and overlapping in every other beat, and it was enough to make him want to scream.

“Is it Peter?” He snapped, and Steve swung to face him, face a mixture of pity and concern.

“Tony…”

That was all the answer he’d needed. It was Peter, then. Hell, what else would it be?

Something else had happened to Peter. Somewhere in his gut, he knew it was bad. Awful. Nothing that he wanted to see.

And yet he knew that he had to.

He tried to push past Steve’s restraining hand, craning his neck to catch of glimpse of the screen. “What is it?”

“It’s a ransom note,” Natasha said, forever to the point. He’d never appreciated that personality trait more than he did in that exact moment.

“And they sent a picture,” Steve added.

The world snapped to a halt. He felt hysterical. Unhinged. And Steve… Steve didn’t understand. None of them did, except maybe Clint. He was a father and he’d been torn away from his child. He just… He just wanted him back, even if it was in the form of a picture. Even if it was through a ransom note.

“Is it of Peter?!” He tried to lunge forward again, and failed. Damn Steve’s super strength. He wished he had the suit. “The… The picture. Is the picture of Peter?”

“Yeah, Tony, it is, but you have to understand-”

“Let me see,” he snarled. “He’s my kid. It’s for me. So let me see it.”

To his surprise, the group all exchanged glances, different people in varying degrees of sympathetic pain, and parted.

The image had obviously been taken with a polaroid camera, and then scanned or faxed alongside the handwritten ransom note. The quality was bad, but it was clear enough to show details. It… It wasn’t grainy enough to spare him.

Peter was tied to a chair, a dirty gag shoved into his mouth, digging into his cheeks. The kidnappers had tossed a newspaper into his lap, proof of life with the date clearly shown, but that wasn’t what caught Tony’s attention. No, it was Peter’s face that ached, somewhere deep in his gut. If he was a spiritual man, he would’ve said that it ached in his soul.

He knew his kid. Knew his eyes like he’d never known anything else. And that photo? It was wrong. Peter wasn’t just scared: he was drugged out of his mind. In fact, it was the general lack of fear in the kid’s gaze that disturbed him the most. He looked too incoherent for any emotion other than exhaustion.

He’d seen Peter high before, always after Spider-Man related injuries, but it’d never been like this. It had always been monitored, consensual, safe, and nothing they’d given him had ever made him vacant. He was usually just sleepy or giggly or both. He’d… He’d never looked so detached.

It made Tony want to hold him, shield him, but now he couldn’t do either of those things and it hurt.

“Oh, god,” he gasped, panic attack smacking right into him without warning, without a single chance to batten down the hatches. “Fuck.”

The world tilt-a-whirled. He felt Rhodey grab him, push and pull and tug him until he was sitting on the couch. His head was shoved between his knees, and conversations pinged around above him without any of the words computing. All he could hearseethink was Peter, Peter, Peter.

If I was a better father, none of this would’ve ever happened.

Eventually, someone grabbed his shoulders, hauled him upright, and it took him a full minute to realize it was Rhodey.

“Tony,” the Colonel said, and he sounded serious, like whatever he was saying was final, no arguments allow. “I’m going to call Bruce, alright?”

Yes. Yes. Bruce… Bruce would be good now. He’d heard them whispering about sedating him earlier, off in corners and hallways, when they thought he was too absorbed in his grief to notice. At the time, the thought had made his heart race, terror and revulsion making him paranoid. He couldn’t check out. He couldn’t. What use would he be to Peter like that?

Now, he’d lunge for just about anything that would take this feeling away. That would let him pull back from the grainy images of Peter’s eyes: glassy, unfocused, afraid and confused and lacking in that spark that would lull Tony into moments of forgetfulness. Moments when he’d genuinely have to remind himself that Morgan was the one with his DNA, not Peter.

“Tell him,” he gasped, eyes squeezed shut against the things he didn’t want to see, the photo that he’d never be able to forget, “tell him that I want whatever it is that Peter got.”

He didn’t know how long he slept for, but he knew that when he woke up, he woke up groggy. Groggy enough that, for a shamefully calm half hour, he forgot that Peter was missing.

And then he remembered, and he lost his child all over again.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. must’ve alerted Pepper when his heartrate spiked, because she slipped into the room within two minutes. She sat beside him, hand resting on his hip through their comforter. Her eyes were red, but she smiled like it was just another Tuesday, like their entire world wasn’t crumbling down around their feet, and he envied her. He envied her the composure. The ability to catalogue the things that were important and the things that weren’t.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey.”

“I thought you’d sleep longer than this.”

He pursed his lips, ignored the implicit suggestion in the words. “Anything new?”

“No.”

He nodded, took in the disappointment slowly, wondered how long he could survive living in limbo. There were thousands upon thousands of unsolved missing persons cases in the United States alone. Every hour that crawled by lessened their chances of bringing Peter home alive, or even bringing him home at all. How could Tony possibly be one of those parents, the ones who spent the rest of their heartbeats agonizing over their child’s loss?

Are they still alive, hidden somewhere out in the world, vulnerable and unprotected? Are they dead? Which option is better: knowing that they’re alive, and suffering, or dead and free? Oh, god. What was it like, at the end? Were they afraid? Did they cry? Did they call out for their dad, because he was the one person who was always meant to save them?

Tony hadn’t been there for the start of Peter’s life. And now it might be over, Peter might be gone, and he hadn’t even been there for that, too. Couldn’t even say if it had happened.

“What time is it?” He asked, just to distract himself. Besides, every hour marked a dwindling statistic. Tony needed to know if they stood a chance, if there was still even a sliver of hope, and someone must’ve closed the curtains after he’d gone to bed, so he couldn’t quite see if there was daylight or darkness behind them.

“7:30.”

“Oh,” he whispered. That was later than he’d thought. The graph in his head nosedived. “Bruce gave me something.”

Pepper’s face twitched, eyes bleeding sympathy. “I know. I’m so sorry, honey.”

“They gave… They gave Peter something, too,” he choked out, “and… and he said that it made him feel sick and I wasn’t there to take care of him.”

Pepper’s blink lasted a good few seconds longer than it should’ve, as if watching Tony crumble was too much for her to watch, but the rest of her stayed steady. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He swallowed, trying to stamp down the perpetual helplessness that had taken residence in his gut, replace it with something else, something he could hold.

“How’s Morgan?”

“She’s okay. She’s been asking to see you.”

“I wanna see her.”

“In a minute.” Pepper slid her hand through his hair, voice soft, the kind of tone she used with Morgan or Peter when they were upset. “Try to relax a little first.”

“I had a dream,” he blurted. He knew that this was probably the opposite of what Pepper meant by relaxing, but he couldn’t help it. “I was in Peter’s bedroom, but it was… it was before. Right after May died. Remember… Remember how he wouldn’t get out of bed?”

For a split second, Pepper’s face flashed from composure to devastation, but it was so brief that it was easy to imagine that it had never happened at all. “Of course I remember. He wouldn’t get up, so you used to go in there and sit with him.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, and he smiled despite himself. He treasured those memories just as much as he wished they’d never happened. Helping Peter grieve for May was an ongoing tragedy, and one of the hardest things he’d ever had to watch, but once the initial aftershocks ended, Tony had gained a second child. “He’d curled up in my lap, and I was holding him. We didn’t… We weren’t even talking. I was just holding him.”

He swallowed, breath hitching. He met Pepper’s eyes, trying desperately to convey something that just wasn’t possible to capture in words. A loss, a fear, a weakening hope.

“Pep,” he whispered, hoarse and crackling, “Pep, I was holding him, but then I woke up and he wasn’t there.”

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t apologize, or promise that they’d get him back.

She just reached out and took his hand.

It was just past 11:00 when Rhodey pushed into the bedroom.

For a split second, Tony assumed the worst. But then,

“We found him,” Rhodey breathed. Beside him, Pepper gasped, like she couldn’t believe it. “Happy got a lead and, well, it doesn’t really matter. But we’ve got him, Tones. Steve’s got him.”

The flight from New York to Calverton, Virginia took an hour. They left Morgan back at the cabin, with Clint’s wife. Tony half considered bringing her, but he didn’t know what shape Peter would be in, physically or mentally. And he… he didn’t want to frighten her, although he supposed that was a moot point after the last 48 hours.

When this was all over, Tony promised himself that he’d apologize to both his children, for lots of different things.

For now, he just wanted Peter. He wanted to hold him, like in his dream but real. He wanted a moment that he couldn’t wake up from.

He mostly ignored Rhodey’s explanation of how they’d tracked the kidnappers down. It was complicated and had something to do with a gas station and a random college kid who’d seen Peter’s picture on the news. Happenstance, really. They’d gotten lucky.

“Is he alright?” Pepper asked, and Tony was glad that someone rational was thinking of the important things. “Did they hurt him?”

“The medics think that he may have a clavicle fracture,” Rhodey said. Tony could feel his eyes on him even though he was staring at his feet. “His kidnappers set off some tear gas and stun grenades when the team went it, so he’s got some irritation and ringing in his ears. No sign of sexual assault, but he’s still pretty out of it. They’re running a tox screen to make sure we’re not in danger of any overdoses.”

Tony looked up. He flexed his hands out in front of him, wincing when his wrists popped. “Is he asking for me?”

“Yeah. Steve said that that’s pretty much the only thing he’s said, too. Asked where you were a couple times and checked out.”

Tony bit his lip. Peter had been drugged, beaten, surrounded by doctors he didn’t know and thrown right into the chaos of a crime scene, and yet he’d still looked up at strangers and asked for him.

“Does he know I’m coming?”

“The medics told him.” Rhodey reached across the seats and grabbed his elbow as they started to descend, engines whining. “Hey, look at me. You sure you’re good to do this?”

He blinked, barely even processing the words.

What kind of question is that?

“This,” he started, quiet enough that there was no way Rhodey would’ve heard him if they didn’t have headsets, “is my job.”

“If he sees you upset, it’s gonna make him even more upset.”

“He won’t see me upset.”

Rhodey groaned, and it kind of hurt that nobody seemed to believe he was capable of parenting his own goddamn kid, no matter what emotional state he was in. “Tony, you’re-”

“Very good at this,” he finished, cutting off whatever Rhodey actually meant to say. He imagined he wouldn’t’ve liked it much, anyway. “I’m very good at this.”

“I know you are, Tony, but this has been a rough-”

“He won’t know I’m upset,” he snarled, voice dangerous, and it felt so good to have a purpose. To have something to curl over and protect. “He won’t.”

Rhodey sighed, defeated. He didn’t look like he believed him, but Tony didn’t really care. “Alright. Just be careful, okay? Don’t go overboard.”

Overboard. Of course he was gonna go overboard. He was gonna go overboard with absolutely everything for the rest of Peter’s life.

He didn’t bother walking when the helicopter landed. He just bolted, weaving through police and paramedics and FBI agents and what felt like a thousand other pointless uniforms. Pepper and Rhodey both tailed him, not missing a beat.

Nobody had told him where Peter was, and it was pitch black outside, midnight having only recently come and gone. The only light came from the dozens of different emergency signals spread out across the field, blue and red and yellow and every other color of the rainbow, all blinking at their own dizzying frequencies. There was no logical way that he should’ve been able to find his kid in that chaos, and yet his feet just took him there, like they’d walked this path a million times, even though he wasn’t sure that he’d ever been within a hundred miles of Calverton before.

He saw the security before he saw his kid. There were about ten guards holding a perimeter around the solitary ambulance, and Tony made a mental note to give Happy a goddamn raise once this was all over.

And then there was Peter, and every single mental note he’d ever made evaporated into thin air.

He was slouched over on the back of the ambulance, orange shock blanket folded over his shoulders. He was bloody, bruised. There was dirt and ash all over his face, but none of that mattered at all because he was still the most beautiful, wonderful, breathtaking thing Tony had ever seen.

“Peter!” His voice broke with the force of the shout. “Peter!”

Despite everything, Peter recognized him right away. His head turned towards the sound, and his arms lifted up, fingers curling weakly in the air.

“Tony?”

“Here,” he gasped, skidding to a stop in front of the kid. “I’m right here, Pete. I’m right here.”

He grabbed Peter’s face between his hands, dragged the pads of his thumbs along the curve of his cheekbones, brushing away tear-smudged grime, and all his anguish evaporated. Gone. He knew it’d return, at some point, probably in the folds of night, far away from where anyone but Pepper could see it, but for now he was calm, capable. He felt in control, because that was the only thing he was allowed to be. Because that was exactly what Peter needed him to be.

He’d meant what he’d said to Rhodey. He was good at this.

“Hey there, buddy,” he whispered. He sniffed hard against the tears building in his throat, but he was grinning so wide that his cheeks ached. “You really got yourself into a mess this time, huh?”

“He’s been a little too close to unresponsive for our tastes,” one of the medics offered, and he glanced up to her. She had a sympathetic smile on her face, soft and kind, “but we were hoping that having dad here might help.”

He nodded, hoping that his expression conveyed the thanks he didn’t have the breath to voice, and turned his attention back to Peter. “Hey, hey,” he cooed, shifting Peter’s face a little, trying to get a reaction. “You with me, squirt?”

Peter looked dazed, pupils blown so wide that Tony could barely find any brown in his eyes at all, but there was recognition there, too. Drowsy and subdued, but recognition all the same.

“‘M with you,” he slurred, blinking hard. “I don’ feel very good.”

“I know, squirt. We’re gonna fix that, okay?”

Peter nodded, then slumped forward into his chest, nose digging into the crook of his neck. “‘M sorry. Didn’… Didn’ mean it.”

Tony had expected the apology, but it still felt like a slap in the face. “Shh, shh. None of this was your fault, kiddo.”

I’m sorry I didn’t do enough to protect you.

“‘M so glad you’re here,” Peter mumbled, and Tony wondered if he even knew that he was talking. “Kept asking for you. They said you w’re coming.”

Tony could feel each one of Peter’s breaths on his skin, warm and slow and relaxed. He’d heard about hostage victims being keyed-up on release, jumpy and paranoid, and just here his kid was: practically dozing off in his arms, murmuring apologies and sermons of faith, easy and relaxed just because Tony was here. Because Tony was holding him.

“Of course I was coming,” he managed to choke out. “I’ll always come for you, Pete. I’m always gonna come for you.”

“Mm. I know. Always got me.”

He’d never deserve this. Never. He could spend the rest of his life devoted to charity, to selflessness, and yet there would never come a day when he would deserve his children.

It should’ve been a disheartening thought, but it wasn’t. It was humbling. It made him feel grateful.

He found the gaze of the nurse who’d first spoken to him, fingers threading slowly through Peter’s hair. “Can I take him?”

“Of course,” she said. “But he’ll need x-rays to confirm that fracture, and fluids, and I wouldn’t let him go unmonitored until his tox screens start coming back clear. You have someone back at base who can do all that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then he’s all yours.”

He wrapped the shock blanket more firmly around Peter’s shoulders, dreaming of the moment he could tear it off, burn it, and replace it with one of the red fleece ones Pepper had brought back from a conference in Colorado at the end of Peter’s senior year. He couldn’t wait until they could finally peel off the layers of this night and replace them with new memories, with new things, with good, peaceful, mundane things.

“I’m gonna take you home now, Pete,” he whispered, fisting his hand desperately in the back of the kid’s shirt. “We’re gonna go home.”

Peter slept straight through the helicopter ride back to New York, legs stretched over Tony’s lap like a cat. He woke up just long enough for Tony to guide him to his bedroom (Tony had to coach him up the stairs like it was his first encounter with the concept), but he was out again as soon as he reached his bed. Cho and Bruce both assured him that there was nothing to be concerned about, that his body was just burning off the drugs, but it didn’t stop him from laying Peter against his chest and keeping a finger on his pulse.

Cho and Bruce must’ve sensed that he wanted nothing more than to be left alone with his kid, because they rushed through the process of converting Peter’s bedroom into a makeshift hospital suite. Peter roused a little when Cho placed his IV, but only enough to make a mild noise of displeasure and bury himself more firmly into Tony’s arms. Otherwise, Peter seemed perfectly content to let Tony deal with the world for him.

That was fine. That was more than fine, actually. It was exactly what he’d been wanting to do for days.

Pepper wandered in and out of the room, spreading her time between them and Morgan. Bruce popped in to give him the tox screen results, but he left almost as soon as he came. He didn’t know what the rest of the team was doing, but he knew that Rhodey had stayed behind in Calverton, with Happy.

The longer he spent unwinding, the more he wished he’d asked better questions.

He didn’t have a clue what had actually happened to Peter, didn’t know if his kidnappers were captured or dead, or if they’d escaped. He didn’t know anything.

Steve knocked on the doorframe after a few hours of pointless wondering, shifting nervously on his feet. It was as if Tony had put an impassable barrier around Peter’s bed, the kind that no one could see but everyone could feel. Nobody was brave enough to touch it.

“You can come it,” he said, amused. “I don’t bite.”

Steve took two steps forward, then stopped, clearly having no intention of moving any farther. “I don’t mean to intrude-”

He rolled his eyes. “What do you need, Steve?”

“The press is clamoring for a statement,” Steve said, after a brief moment of hesitation, “preferably in person.”

Tony pushed some of Peter’s hair back from his forehead, forcing himself to ignore the tiny cuts and bruises littering the kid’s face. “Giving a statement would involve leaving this room.”

Steve just nodded. “I understand.” He gestured in Peter’s direction, stiff and unsure, like he was treading on ice. “How is he?”

Tony smiled. He really didn’t know why everyone seemed so determined to dance around the topic of Peter, especially now that he was home. It wasn’t a touchy subject, it was Tony’s favorite subject.

“He’s sleeping, safe and sound.”

“I’m glad.”

“They ran a tox screen,” he offered. “He’s got GBH and ecstasy and a couple other pretty nasty things in his system. Cho’s confident that the fluids should help him metabolize it. F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirmed that he’s got a small fracture in his collarbone, but his healing should take care of it pretty quickly once his body recalibrates.” He smiled, eyes never leaving Peter’s face. “He’ll be back to playing Mario Kart with Morgan in no time.”

“Good.” Steve walked around to his side of the bed, steps slow and measured. “Do you want me to give you the details of everything now, or later?”

“Give me the essentials. Are they dead?”

“Yeah.” Relief shot through him. “Clint got two with his arrows. The other one was sleeping when we came in. He tried to grab a weapon, but Nat got to him first. Sam found Peter locked in a closet in the back bedroom.”

The rage he felt at the detail conflicted with the tenderness that rose with every second he spent with his children. In the end, he set the anger aside. He didn’t need it, right now. It wouldn’t made Peter heal faster.

“You sure there were only three?”

“We’re looking into it, but we’re nearly positive.”

He dipped his head in Peter’s direction. “How was he when you found him?”

Darkness swooped over Steve’s face, and his voice went hard. “Not great.” A pause. “You think he’ll be alright?”

“Without a doubt,” he said, and he meant it. “He’s a tough kid, and he’s got a good therapist. Pretty sure there isn’t anything he can’t tackle and come out the winner.”

“And what about you?” Steve asked, as sincere as Tony had ever heard him. “Will you be alright?”

He smoothed his palm down Peter’s back, and thought back to his dream. He’d imagined the whole thing wrong, he realized. The joy he’d felt then hadn’t captured even a single fraction of the joy he was feeling now.

“Of course I’ll be alright,” he said, like it was obvious. “I’ve got the best family in the world.”

Natasha had never been in Peter’s room before. Then again, she’d very rarely been the cabin, either. Tony had gone out of his way to keep his family shielded from everyone, even the team.

After everything they’d been through, she had a hard time blaming him for that.

Tony and Peter were both asleep when she poked her head through the door. She guessed that it was probably the first time either of them had had any real rest in days. Even unconscious, Tony had placed himself between Peter and the door, arms wrapped tightly around the kid, as if someone was going to try to steal him when he wasn’t looking.

Bruce and Cho had turned the bedroom into a makeshift hospital room, monitors and an IV pole tucked up in a corner, but it didn’t change the cozy atmosphere. A few framed sci-fi posters littered the walls, but there were family pictures as well: everything from photobooth strips to professional portraits.

For a brief few seconds, she let herself wonder what it would’ve been like to grow up in a place that felt like a home.

Pepper ended up catching her attention before the thoughts could go too far. She was the only other person in the room, and, unlike Tony and Peter, she was actually awake. She beckoned for her to come in, posture as relaxed as Natasha had ever seen it.

“Hey,” Pepper greeted, voice just above a whisper. “Are you here for Tony?”

“I am.”

“Can it wait?”

Her eyes flickered up to the pair curled around each other on the bed, and she made her decision without a hint of hesitation. “I’ll make it wait.”

Pepper shot her a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. How are they?”

Pepper leaned forward in her chair, and brushed the back of Peter’s hand gently. It was a mother’s touch, kind and adoring. She tried not to stare.

“Peter’s still pretty out of it, but he’s been talking to Tony, so that’s a step in the right direction. It might take a while for his metabolism to clear out all the shit they pumped into him, but his vitals are holding steady.”

“Did the tox screen come back?”

Pepper sighed. “It did. It’s a miracle Tony didn’t have an aneurism when Cho read it to us. They gave him GHB and ecstasy, among a few other things, but there’s nothing we can do about it except wait.”

That certainly wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. She hadn’t said it out loud, but she’d been prepping herself for the possibility that by the time they found the kid, they’d have already OD’d him.

She’d seen those kinds of bodies before, and they weren’t pretty. She wasn’t sure how Tony’s would’ve handled it.

Speaking of which…

“And how’s Tony?”

Pepper’s face softened even more at the mention of her husband. She reached out to adjust his shirt, tone warm. “His baby’s back, so all’s right with the world again. At least for now.” She let out an exhausted breath. “And after everything that’s happened, I’ll take for now.”

She wondered if Pepper had slept since Peter’s graduation. The more she analyzed the past few days, the more she came to the conclusion that she hadn’t.

“I doubt Peter’ll be allowed out of his sight for the next few weeks.”

“Weeks?” Pepper snorted, a rare slip of her polish. Natasha guessed that she saw it more than the boys did. “Oh, Peter’s going to have Tony following him around for the next decade at least. It’ll be sweet for a while, because at first he’ll actually enjoy the coddling, but then both of them are going to make my life a living hell.”

Natasha just smiled. There wasn’t even a hint of genuine aggravation in Pepper’s voice: just relief. “You can’t wait, can you?”

Pepper’s face lit up. “God, Nat, I’ve never been more ecstatic over the thought of the two of them snipping at each other in my life.”

She laughed, careful not to disturb either of Pepper’s charges, then took a cautious step towards the door. As much as she enjoyed Pepper’s company, there were still a million things to be done. She’d handle the paperwork, and she’d let the parents handle the kid.

She wasn’t really qualified for the gushy stuff.

“I’ll let you spend some time with your family.”

“Actually, Nat, before you go…” Pepper paused, chewing on the words, “just, well, thank you. People are never able to forget that Peter’s Tony’s child, but they tend to overlook that he’s mine now, too. He’s been mine for nearly six years. And I know that I’ll never love him like Tony does, but… but I still love him, and I’m still grateful.”

“I’m just doing my job,” she said, smile tight.

“It’s a good job, Nat.”

She backed the rest of the way into the hall. “Yeah, it is.”

The door clicked shut, and she just barely inclined her head to the security guard that was stationed outside of it. They’d be a common presence around here, for a while, at least until Stark re-found that tenuous balance between keeping his kids safe and letting them live.

She’d been worried about Peter, before. If there was anyone in the world who understood trauma, understood what it could do to your soul, it was Natasha Romanoff, but she knew now that Peter Parker had something that she’d never had.

He had people who gave a shit. People who’d make sure that he was fine.

She wondered if he knew how lucky he had it.

#wooo it's a monster #me: my irondadbingo is going to be short little ficlets!#also me: *writes 11k words*#help #irondad #irondadbingo #tony & peter #tony stark #peter parker #losingmymindtonight writes

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kiwi-bitchez · 5 years

Text

Permafrost

Chapter 4: superpowers and liquid courage

Read chapters 1, 2, and 3, all are also on my Ao3

Summary: Peter and Y/N sneak around the boat and try to find ways to kill the time. Stumbling upon a bar, you take it upon yourself to pour the liquid courage you need to finally talk to peter about what happened that night at the party.

Warnings: language and alcohol consumption

A/N: can this be a slow burn even though they've already fucked??? More smut is coming, I promise ;) Drop requests for oneshots or ideas for fics you want to see in my ask box! Smut/fluff/anything! Plz! I’m so lonely and horny all the time.

The first handful of days on the boat generally consist of jetlag, seasickness, and mundane ways to kill the onsetting boredom. Just about everyone slept for the majority of the first day of the trip, that 11-hour flight was no joke, and segueing directly onto a boat wasn’t exactly an easy transition.

The bunks on the ship weren’t ideal, but they were nice enough. You weren’t exactly used to luxury anyways. The bedrooms could easily be compared to small dorm rooms, and the bathrooms weren’t large enough for more than one person to be seasick at a time.

Both you and Peter didn’t have too much trouble with that, as you found the constant swaying kind of comforting, and you were sure Peter was immune to motion sickness. However, everyone else wasn’t quite as adept as the two of you, making the first 48 hours generally miserable for everyone.

“I can’t stand being in here listening to Steve throw up any longer,” Peter says, sitting up in his bed and tossing a wad of paper at the back of your head.

“Hey!” you turn from your seat at the small desk where you had been trying to distract yourself with work, “watch it!”

“Can we do something, please,” Peter looks at you, making a ridiculous puppy-dog face that you knew you couldn’t say no to, “just like a walk around the ship, we can go up to the top deck, literally anything, please.”

“Ugh I guess,” you pretend to be annoyed but are actually glad to be getting out of the tiny bedroom. You hadn’t taken much time to explore around the ship, and you figured it would be beneficial considering you were going to be here for quite some time.

Following Peter, who walked incredibly fast, always slightly bouncing and skipping when he stepped, you made your way to the main room. There was a small kitchen, a few couches, and a dining table. You flop dramatically back onto one of the couches in the middle of the room, letting all your limbs hang off the sides.

“Great, now we can just listen to everyone be sick from out here,” you flop your head back to look at peter from an upside-down angle.

“At least the acoustics are better,” he quips back as he rummages through every drawer and cabinet.

“Is this really the only other room other than our sleeping quarters?” you ask, assuming he had been told more than you about the trip.

“Yeah, I think so. There are the other rooms upstairs, the conference room, and the top deck. I think Tony mentioned something about an entertainment room but he said it was closed off. This boat used to be for small private trips until they refurbished it to make the trip to Antarctica, now mostly it’s used by larger groups of scientists and stuff like that, so no real need for an entertainment room.”

“No need for an entertainment room? What, you science nerds don’t like to have fun?” You joke, having recently learned about Peter’s love for math and science, particularly chemistry.

“Not exactly anti-fun, more like anti-relaxation,” he flops beside you in a similar fashion on the couch across from yours, “I’m pretty sure Stark sealed off that conference room and is using it as a lab. Like he couldn’t just relax for a few days, that would be impossible.”

“Why aren’t you up there with him doing top-secret Avenger’s science?”

“Eh, he told me to scram when I offered to help. Sometimes he gets into the zone and refuses to let anyone help him. I kind of get it, but it means I’m stuck here, bored out of my mind.”

“Damn, sorry I’m so boring I guess,” you joke, sarcastically rolling your eyes at him.

“That is not what I-” he starts before looking over at you, realizing your tongue is stuck out at him.

“Race you to the top,” you say quickly as you take a head start out the door.

The two of you tumble down the hallway, flailing your arms and trying to knock one another over. He manages to squeak by you and scramble up the stairs to the top deck first.

“Hey that is not fair,” you yell over to him, already starting to shiver, “I don’t have radioactive blood and spider muscles or whatever it is you have.”

You join him over by the railing, looking out at the vast ocean. Although it is beautiful, the cold is unbearable and the wind is whipping your hair in every direction.

“This was a better idea in theory,” Peter turns to you, “I think I spotted Monopoly down there.”

“Okay are we five?” you joke back, but you secretly loved Monopoly, fully ready to kick Peter’s ass.

Although the two of you grew comfortable quickly, there was still a slight air of tension. There was that underlying thing that neither of you was going to bring up, but secretly wished the other would. You used humor as a coping mechanism, constantly deflecting with sarcasm and bad jokes.

It was inconvenient that the only person who really wanted to spend time with you was Peter, and you spent almost every minute of the day together. All of this would have been easier if you just had to awkwardly acknowledge him in passing, but no, you were literally sleeping less than 10 feet apart.

You tried to just see him as a friend, someone you could be goofy and dick around with. You think he is trying to see you the same way too. You try your best to keep physical contact out of the picture, but he can’t help but to grab your hand to drag you off somewhere, or for you to ruffle his hair after he says something stupid.

There was that inherent chemistry between the two of you, and if you hadn’t known better you could have ignored it, but that was the problem, you did know better. You both knew how you had fucked each other’s brains out that night, how the sexual interest and intense attraction truly was there and wasn’t just something you were imagining. But still, you resign to scrunching your nose at him and cracking bad jokes over board games to repress any feelings of wanting him on top of you.

You had found a small stack of board games and would cycle through them and play with anyone who was willing to sit with you and Peter for that long. Monopoly, Risk, and Scrabble. Certain members of the team would come in for certain games, some were better competitors than others. But that’s how the two of you mutually decided to pass the time. When you weren’t stewing over maps and images of cliff faces, you would go down to the common room with Peter and wait around until you had a large enough party to play. A few days passed by this way and you didn’t mind, it also gave you the chance to spend some time with the other members of the team, although they never became less intimidating.

You sat at the tiny wooden desk, you ass getting sore from sitting on the hard, wooden chair. You had been shuffling through papers, not really concentrating on anything in particular, when you felt Peter enter the room. You had headphones on and had the music cranked up, but you could always feel when he entered the room, despite how light on his feet he was.

You turn around, surprised to not see him there. But before you can fully turn back around to the desk your body instinctively recoils at Peter hanging upside down dangling over the wooden surface. You gasp as you start to fall back, chair slipping out underneath you. He shoots out a web from god knows where and catches the chair inches before it hits the ground.

You clutch your chest, slightly worried that cardiac arrest might be in your near future. Before you can yell at him, or even get up, he is toppled over on the desk cracking up. He lowers you slowly, so you are now flat on your back. He continues to hysterically laugh and you can’t help but join him.

“What the fuck man!” you finally say in between giggles.

“I’m sorry I-” Peter, still gasping for air in between bellows, “I just wanted to scare you, I didn’t realize you would-” still laughing.

“You are an asshole,” you say, finally getting up, you smack him off your desk and start to reorganize your papers.

“You can’t be mad at me, that was so funny,” Peter, finally upright, moves across the room.

“You bet your ass I will be getting you back though,” you point your finger sternly at him, although you were unsure how you could top hanging from the ceiling, “If you are here to ask me to play scrabble with you, I may explode.”

“No, no, I need a solid 12-hour break from board games before I kick your ass at Monopoly again,” he never stops rubbing it in, “I was just wondering if you wanted to look around for something to eat for dinner.”

You smooth out your hair and clothes to join him in the hallway, quickly entering the somewhat crowded main room. The others were eating as well, as everyone had become accustomed to the motion of the ocean and had started taking Dramamine. The two of you conclude on a box of mac and cheese, as long as Peter did all the work. He owed you at least that considering your heart stopped for a solid 15 after that stunt he pulled.

Everyone finishes their meals and clears out of the room, heading back to their respective rooms, leaving you and Peter to discuss the mechanics of eating mac and cheese with a spork.

“Make sure to wrap it before you tap it, kids,” Sam nudges Peter on the shoulder as he exited the room.

“Oh my god do they all know about that?” you ask.

“Kind of,” Peter’s face grew red, “they all really like you, I swear.”

“He wouldn’t shut up about you for weeks!” Sam yells from the hallway, clearly still within earshot of you.

You threw your hands over your face in embarrassment. You couldn’t believe that all the freaking Avengers knew about your sex life. You wondered how much Peter had told them, but didn’t dare ask. You just hoped they all knew that you were professional and hadn’t just weaseled your way onto this trip because you had slept with Spiderman, although that technically was the case.

“I am painfully bored,” you admit, bringing your dishes to the sink, “is there really nothing else to do other than Monopoly and sleep?”

“I mean I can think of a few things…” Peter jokes, although you hope deep down that he isn’t.

“Hey, quit it with the flirting,” you join him on the couch, “you made me dinner and now you’re making passes at me, don’t break the rules.”

“But rules are so boooooring, and this boat is soooo booooring,” he slumps into your lap, making those puppy dog eyes at you again.

“Okay then, lets… do something exciting then,” you suggest, getting up and waltzing across the room.

“What could possibly be exciting?”

“If I remember your top-secret Avengers info correctly, there is a whole game room just waiting to be broken into.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” Peter questions, “hey, and isn’t your whole deal that you want to be respectful and professional and everything?”

Although he makes a fair point, everyone is in bed at this point and your boredom was killing your brain cells. You both could use something to occupy your minds as this boat slowly trudges into colder and colder territory.

“Oh I’m sorry,” you start, “I didn’t realize you were bitten by a radioactive scardey cat.”

He rolls his eyes at you and follows you out into the hallway and down the stairs.

“Fine, but I am not taking the blame for this if we get in trouble.”

“Fine, fine, it was all my idea, you can even rat me out.”

You make your way down to the bottom floor, where neither of you had yet been. You find the door at the end of the hallway and quietly jiggle the door handle open.

“Dude, your secret intel was all lies,” you whisper, “the door wasn’t even locked.”

You slip your way into the door and feel around for a light switch. Although it was nowhere near as exciting as you would have hoped, it was still something. The lights flicker on and reveal a mostly empty ballroom, a small one albeit, a few tables, couches, and a bar. It wasn’t much different from the room upstairs except the one thing that caught your eye, the bar.

“Come on Peter, it will be fun,” you start, already knowing he will protest your devilish ideas, “plus, I bet no one can even hear us down here.”

“I don’t know, I don’t want to take anything that doesn’t belong to me.”

“If that’s your concern I have like twenty bucks in cash upstairs that I will gladly leave in the place of whichever one of these fine bottles we choose to take.”

“I suppose,” you notice him coming around to the idea, “but we have to be quiet, I don’t want to disrupt anyone’s sleep.”

“Of course, of course,” you were now behind the bar, eyeing your selections, “pick your poison, Parker.”

You grab a bottle and take a seat on one of the couches, Peter sits down across from you.

“Are we friends?” you ask Peter, taking a swig right from the bottle and passing it over to him.

“Um, I guess so? Why?” Peter takes a sip much more easily than you had expected.

“I just feel like I don’t know anything about you. Friends know things about each other.”

“You know that I’m Spiderman, most people don’t know that about me.”

“I guess,” you take the bottle back from him, “but we have spent every day together for almost a week now, and I don’t really know anything about you. Your name is Peter Parker, you have magic spider monkey powers, you have a big dick...”

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” he says, hand out asking for the bottle again.

“Hmm?” you finish your sip and hand the liquor over.

“My middle name is Benjamin, that’s something you don’t know about me.”

“That’s so cute,” the liquor hitting you already, “that suits you so well.”

“Thanks, it was my Uncle’s name,” Peter took a long sip, “he, um, he died when I was in high school.”

“Oh,” you didn’t expect this conversation to get so serious so quickly, “were you two close?’

“Yeah, my parents are dead, so he and my Aunt May were my guardians. May is great, she’s like the best person ever, love her with my whole heart. But Uncle Ben died and it was pretty hard on us, and I became Spiderman, and… it was all kind of a mess, to be honest.”

“I’m- I’m really sorry to hear that,” you look down, unsure of how to continue.

“Ok now you go,” he says, handing you the bottle.

“Huh?” you were still trying to process everything he had just thrown out there.

“Our drinking game, you say something the other person doesn’t know about you and also you drink.”

“That just sounds like a conversation to me.”

“Ok, then you come up with something!”

“No, no, I like it,” you laugh, the alcohol steadily setting into your bloodstream, “I just don’t really have any exciting secrets like dead parents or superpowers though.”

“That’s ok, just tell me your favorite ice cream flavor or something. You are right, we barely know anything about each other.”

“Coffee, but coffee mixed with cookies and cream, so like the coffee ice cream has little bits of cookie mixed in it. What’s yours?”

“Ben and Jerry's.”

“That’s not a flavor, that’s a brand.”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s my answer. This is my game, so I say Ben and Jerry's.”

The two of you had somehow migrated from the couches over to the large wooden dance floor, laying with arms and legs starfished out around you. You went back and forth, telling stupid facts about yourselves, whoever wasn’t talking was drinking. You flip over onto your stomachs and rest your head on your arms, crossed in front of you. You were staring directly into Peter’s eyes.

Normally being this close to him would make you a blend of anxious and horny and giddy. However, the bottle was well over half gone at this point. The two of you had been talking for hours, rolling around on the hard floor and laughing at each other’s stories.

“Have you ever been in love?” you ask, the thought escaping your mouth before it could be filtered through your brain.

“Damn,” Peter, equally as drunk as you, responds, “that’s a little personal, don’t you think?”

“Okay mister shares-a-room-with-me-and-also-let-me-suck-his-dick-in-a-spare-room-at-a-work-function Parker.”

“Hey,” he sits up, struggling a little bit, “I thought we were secretly silently agreeing not to bring that up.”

“Ban lifted,” you sit up too, “we are playing the reveal-your-secrets drinking game that YOU made up.”

“It’s called “get to know your roommate better through discussion and drink” and it’s fun,” he says defensively, “and no, I was a loser in high school and now I spend my weekends lurking around in alleyways waiting for people to punch, so no, never been in love.”

“You lurk in alleyways? Doesn’t really sound very superhero esque to me,” you make fun of him.

“I’ve been to space, so, suck on that.”

“Can I see it?”

Peter gives you a funny look, not entirely sure what you’re getting at.

“Your suit you dummy, show me your super suit. Show me Spiderman!”

“I don’t know y/n, I’m kind of drunk and I don’t want to wake anyone up.”

“What? Spiderman can’t be quiet? Please, Peter, pleeeasssee.”

“Ok fine but I’m taking that twenty from your wallet to leave at the bar.”

“Fine!” you lay back on the ground, closing your eyes that felt very heavy, “I’ll be here waiting for you Spideyyy.”

Peter takes a while, slowly making his way up the stairs to your shared room. You patiently wait for him, pacing around the entertainment room taking long gliding steps, twirling around with your arms spread out.

“Okay, I have a few different ones with me, but this one is the coolest for sure,” Peter starts talking to you before he is even all the way down the stairs, taking them three at a time. You stare at him with bulging eyes, mouth dropping slightly agape.

“What? Don’t look at me like that you’re making me self-conscious,” he steps into the room, Spider-suit clinging tightly to his body.

“How?” you walk up to him, placing a hand on the shiny material, surprised to find it was cold and metallic to the touch, “are you so perfect?”

“Excuse me?” Peter stumbles a little bit.

“Look at you! You’re freaking amazing!” you fall back onto the old leather couch, making your landing dramatic, as if he had blown you away.

“Shut up, don’t make fun of me,” Peter shies away, “I’m not even gonna put the mask on now.”

“I’m not making fun of you! Do something super, please?? Will you??”

He sighs, exasperated, and drunk, and shoots a web across the room, swinging his body along with it. He wasn’t as graceful as he usually was, and had never tried using his suit while intoxicated, so this was all new.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim, causing Peter to whip around and dramatically motion for you to be quiet, “fuck, sorry. Holy shit!” you whisper.

“Can I take it off? I’m getting sweaty,” he drops his shoulders and mopes.

“I suppose…” you shuffle back over to the couch, “but know I like you much more in the sexy superhero outfit than those sweats you’ve been rocking.”

“Don’t hate on the joggers,” he was slipping back into them, you hadn’t even noticed that he had taken the spider suit off, it had happened so fast. You found yourself staring at his bare chest, unable to control your drunk expression of lust.

“Are we still playing the roommate honesty game?” you ask, desperately trying to focus your eyes on something other than Peter getting dressed.

“Yes,” he grabs the bottle over from where you had left it on the table, “and it’s my turn to ask.”

“Okay shoot spider-boy.”

He takes a long sip before sitting across from you, looking at you intently. “You lifted the ban, so I get to ask, and I’m just drunk enough to not give a fuck, so I have to do it.”

“Okay?” unsure of where he was going with this.

“Why,” he pauses before taking another quick sip, “why did you leave that night? Why didn’t you leave your number?”

It took you a second, and you sat there, slightly uncomfortable. You weren’t sure how to start, opening your mouth before words had formed in your brain.

“I’m sorry,” he cuts you off before you can even speak, “You don’t have to answer that, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“No, its ok,” you felt weirdly sober suddenly, despite not being able to feel your hands or feet or cheeks, “I- I just didn’t really know what I was doing. I had never really slept with someone I didn’t know like that, and I wasn’t sure what the rules were, what the protocol was.”

“I’m not good at that stuff either,” he avoided eye contact with you, “I probably just should have asked you for it.”

“I just, I didn’t want to leave it and then have you never call. I figured you were so busy being an Avenger, and you probably get girls all the time. I just jumped to the conclusion that it all meant a lot more to me than it did to you,” you look up at him, face previously buried in your hands.

“It meant something to me,” he says, “are you kidding, how could it not have? Did you hear Sam earlier? All I could talk about for weeks was how pissed I was that I didn’t ask you for your number, that I let you slip away.”

“I’m sorry for instilling the secret ban on talking about it,” you apologize to him, “and I’m sorry I left that night, I was just nervous. You make me nervous.”

“I am so un-intimidating. Thor is here, Captain America is here, they are intimidating. I’m like a 7 on a good day and all I can cook is boxed mac and cheese. Why do I make you nervous?”

“First off, shut up, you’re an 11 every day and you know it, you might be a secret genius, and you have freaking superpowers, plus you lowkey got me this job so I owe a lot to you.”

“I’m sorry if things have been weird or tense or whatever,” his cheeks turning redder than they had previously been.

“Don’t apologize, it’s a weird situation that neither one of us could have known about. And I’m the one who should be sorry if things are weird or tense.”

Peter gets up and joins you on the couch, resting his head on your shoulder. You still felt very nervous, but in a new way. You just want to lay there and hold him, let him know that you like him, that you really really like him.

“Do you think we could make it less weird?” your mouth does that thing again, saying ideas before your brain can properly filter them, “Do you think if we just kissed once it would diffuse the tension?”

You weren’t sure if this was actually a good idea, or if your brain was just trying to find a rational way to bring up to Peter how you wanted nothing more than to kiss him. You turned to him, alcohol helping with the typical nervousness and awkwardness that this situation would typically present.

“You just have to promise me,” he says, bringing one of his strong hands to cup your cheek.

“Promise you what?”

“Promise me that you’ll stop.”

“Stop?”

“Yeah, stop. Stop being pretty. Stop being funny. Stop being smart and witty and better than me at board games. Stop talking in your sleep and leaving your towel on your head for hours after you’ve gotten out of the shower. Stop doing all those things that are making this trip so hard for me. You have to promise me that you’ll stop.”

“If I promise, then you’ll kiss me?” you whisper, leaning into the hand that was pressed against your skin. He nods at you, tucking his lower lip between his teeth.

“Okay, then I promise. I’ll be mean and horrible to you for the rest of the trip. I’ll be nasty and unlikeable, and I’ll tell even more jokes than I already do, and now you won’t even have to pretend to laugh.”

He scrunches his nose at you, grinning a familiar smile as he leans into you.

“You promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

You part your lips slightly, his mouth hovering over yours as you take a sharp breath inward, preparing yourself. His hand snakes from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling your lips to his and holding your head steadily, not wanting to feel your lips part from his. You latch onto his lower lip, hands coming up instinctively to cup his face.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you pull his face closer to yours. His hand on the base of your neck and your hands on his face acted as a human vice grip, locking your faces together as you felt his lips interlock with yours. You tilt your head, allowing his tongue to slip into your ready mouth.

The kiss wasn’t sexual or heated, the way a tension diffusing kiss was supposed to be, it was slow, earnest, warm.

You were drunk, but you could feel every shift and movement in his body, every maneuver of his hand. He wasn’t kissing you the way a drunk boy should kiss you, he kissed you as if you had just come home from the airport, like you just received good news, like you had known each other for much longer than this Antarctica trip.

You were the one to pull away, immediately regretting it the moment you did. You stared at him with sad eyes, not knowing what would happen next. He just stared back, not wanting to register that the kiss was over.

Before he could say anything or look at you in a way that made you feel the need to say something, you turned around, back facing him and laid back. You nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. Taking his hand and weaving his long fingers between yours, you tell him

“I hate you,” staying true to your promise. You close your eyes and let your body fully relax into his.

“I hate you more,” he kisses the top of your head, burying his face in your hair, closing his eyes too.

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