“Such a pretty boy,” Tony grunts out as he continues to fist himself. “Look at those dazed eyes. Let me see that pretty little mark Bucky’s left on your neck.”
Peter turns his head to the side, showing off the no doubt red and purple hickey on his neck, right over his baby blue collar. His is a soft leather, made for show. Bucky’s however, is thick, made for controlling something strong. The contrast makes Tony smirk.
Tagging: @snowstark (who is now a co-author and who wrote part 8) @just-things-things @someonepostedart @romannticparker @starkentrprises @carelessannie @khalixascorner @useless-fanfictions-for-mcu @sarcastich
Big big big thank you to Kiki for beta reading for me ilysm kiss also sorry you're not getting the whole fic on tumblr it's too long!
“Peter, I’ve already shown you —”
“All you've 'shown me' is exactly what you want me to see.”
“And? Are you really going to risk all of this just because you think I'm lying?"
"I will."
"No. You won't."
“You don’t get to make that decision anymore.”
It's your turn for the 50s au!! Until I found you by Stephen Sanchez (the vibes of this song 😭)
Georgia, wrap me up in all your- I want you in my arms Oh, let me hold you I'll never let you go again like I did Oh, I used to say
"I would never fall in love again until I found her" I said, "I would never fall unless it's you I fall into" I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her I found you
Georgia, pulled me in I asked to love her once again You fell, I caught you I'll never let you go again like I did
Oh, I used to say "I would never fall in love again until I found her" I said, "I would never fall unless it's you I fall into" I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her I found you
Until I Found You
(Read on Ao3)
They drank stovetop coffee as evening twisted into night.
Their days were languid now, stretching west from Michigan to California and then around southeast again.
The raid happened in the fuzzy green lines between Georgia and North Carolina, in a basement that smelt of old ale and ripe beets. Dim lights promised anonymity, at least at first, and Tony’s lips were gentle on Peter’s collarbone, hands supple on his waist.
Then shouting. Then screaming. Then shoving.
Then blinding lights and police gear and a shot went off. The crowd scattered. Tony grabbed Peter’s arm and shoved him down, voice harsher than Peter had ever heard.
“Stay down there!”
“Ton-“
“Shut up!”
The words were cruel but the intention was one of defence. Protection. Some way to hold onto beautiful moments stolen in darkness.
Peter tried to stand. Tried to catch Tony’s arm before it was snatched away. Tried to cry out for him to stay. But something struck him and he fell again, panicked and dizzy. He heard metal clicking and gruff voices, and ashamed as he would later be to admit it, he huddled amidst the wreckage of the club. Wrapped his arms around his knees and waited, listened.
The police sounded like the brothers. Peter’s ears rang with unpleasant nostalgia, and he hid there until the commotion had died down. Until the grunts and swears and slurs had left them far behind. Until only dust motes hung suspended in the garish air of the cellar.
He fell asleep there, wedged in a tight space in a Georgia cellar, nerves cooking his veins from the inside out. Not even the stovetop coffee helped ward off the exhaustion that eventually collapsed over him.
—
He woke confused. Not seated but stretched out. Not cold but warm. Not in the deep light of night but in the grey glow of waking hours.
“Awake, then?”
A gruff voice. Not the police nor the brothers — and what a foolish fear, that it would ever be the brothers, so many miles away and no doubt not even caring for their fate. Peter opened his eyes and found he was lying down.
He recognised the bartender from last night. Enormous and blonde, hair grown long down to his shoulders. He surveyed Peter with a grim interest, as if not pleased he was there but happy enough that he had woken up.
“Best move on as soon as you can, son.”
Peter sat up. The cellar looked different in the light of day. The edges were less fuzzy and the wood was light instead of dark, hazelnut and sepia instead of mahogany.
“The man-“ Peter’s voice tapered off, vocal cords raw against his throat. He paused.
“The man I was with-“
“Long gone, now.” The bartender shrugged and resumed his self-appointed task to clean the broken glass from the raid. “They’ll have taken the boys they rounded up down to Atlanta.”
“Atlanta!”
Perhaps that shouldn’t have come as such a surprise to Peter, but Atlanta felt so far from the edge of the state where they currently cowered. Traversing deeper into Georgia had never been the plan, but if that’s where Tony was, if that’s where he’d been stolen away to…
“Coffee?” The man asked, and it brought a sour taste to Peter’s mouth. Still able to taste their brew from last night. He shook his head.
“Best move on then, son.”
“But my friend—“
He snorted, “Find a new one.”
Peter shook his head and finally summoned the courage to stand. There was no find a new one. No cut your losses. No moving on.
“I’m going to Atlanta,” He said, though it came out as more of a cough as he stumbled his way to the door.
The man didn’t answer, and Peter made his way outside with lurching lopes. He emerged to empty fields and a sun too bright in Tony’s absence.
Atlanta.
How was he possibly supposed to get to Atlanta?
The car was parked where they’d left it. An aged corvette, the sight of which sent an immediate pang to Peter’s chest. The windows were smashed and one mirror was broken off, hanging by a tenuous metal thread. A slur was painted in mud along the side of the door. Peter’s hands shook as he tore through the backseat looking for remnants of their life together.
Everything had been ransacked. Aside from a couple shirts and a bent toothbrush, there was nothing of value for Peter to hang onto. More importantly, though, there was nothing of memory. Nothing to look or smell or taste like Tony in the wake of his absence.
Of course, no car keys.
Surrounded by fields with scraggly trees stabbing the sky in the distance, Peter hesitantly started to walk. He barely took in the sun enough to know he was going in the right direction.
He found the road and struck out south, hands slotted in his pockets and head wanting sorely for a hat he didn’t have. He missed the cool air of the Rockies and the crisp snows of Michigan, the air here seemed to want to suffocate him with its heat.
The bottom of one of Peter’s shoes was wearing thin — Tony had intended to buy replacements next time they got to a city — and soon a blister had worn its way into the sole of his foot.
Peter walked on top of the pain. He thought of Tony, shackled and possibly beaten in custody in a strange city.
“I’m coming for you, Tony.” Peter whispered softly against the blanket of heat, “I’m gonna find you.”
Hey everyone! I've fallen on some hard times due to surgery and I'm being threatened with eviction if I don't have rent by the 5th! If you guys could, I'd really appreciate some help! Anything at all!
Hi! I'm struggling with making enough money for rent this month. I had surgery in June and had t… Basil Holmes needs your support for Please
“Peter, I’ve already shown you —”
“All you've 'shown me' is exactly what you want me to see.”
“And? Are you really going to risk all of this just because you think I'm lying?"
"I will."
"No. You won't."
“You don’t get to make that decision anymore.”
I wanna request from your deck of cards (cause I wanted to before but kept forgetting 😂)
What about 2 of clovers and make it parkersborn??? 🤔🤔
Also:
♣️ 2 of Clovers/Clubs: “Whump" (Parksborn: The Amazing Spider-Man Prequel. Before Harry leaves for boarding school.)
Send me a prompt!
“I haven’t seen a ladybug in a while, and I could really use one.”
Peter craned his neck up to Harry, who had successfully reached the top of the swingset. He was sitting on the bar, legs pumping to no avail given he was not on a swing itself.
“Harry, yuh shoe’s untied!”
Instead of bending over to tie his shoe, Harry kicked it off mid-swing. It fell into Peter’s lap. Peter hugged it to his stomach.
“Why a ladybug?”
Above him, Harry shrugged.
“I like ladybugs.” His voice was petulant and just this side of cross, like he expected Peter Parker of all people to understand. They were both quiet for a while, and Peter giggled when Harry’s other shoe bounced off his head.
“Ow!”
But it hadn’t really hurt.
From his seat on the swing, Peter could see across the whole soccer field to the trees beyond. Harry could probably see farther, could maybe make out the road all the way on the other side of the block.
Harry’s hair was mussed from where he’d dragged his hands through it and they’d rollicked on the playground for a while. Harry’s dad would chastise them both later, but Peter didn’t care.
“You can keep them, if you want.”
Peter looked down at the shoes he was still hugging close. They would be two sizes too big on him, but they’d last a hell of a lot longer than the bodega discount sneakers Uncle Ben scrounged up for him.
“What’ll you wear home?” Peter’s voice wavered in a way he didn’t like. The fragility of a child broke through, and he didn’t want to be a child any longer. He was starting middle school in just a few days, so as far as Peter was concerned it was time to put away childish things.
“What, you don’t like my socks, Parker?” Harry teased and waved both feet above him, showing off the little cartoon pizzas stitched into the fabric.
“They’re fine, but your dad’s not gonna like you going home in them.”
“He won’t notice.” Harry huffed, an edge to his voice.
Peter kicked his legs in and out on the swing, but he alternated them so he wouldn’t actually push very much. Harry let out a sigh.
Peter admitted, “I like ladybugs too,” And then abruptly, “I wish you weren’t leaving.”
Saying it out loud made his skin cold, and he remembered childish things again. Missing your best friend because he was going to another school was a childish thing.
“Me too.” Harry’s voice was rough and plagued by his own emotion.
“I’m not gonna have anyone to sit with at lunch,” Peter pouted. He didn’t say it to Harry, he just said it to the world around them, “And no one to play with after school. And I’m not gonna… you’re gonna be…”
Playing after school was a childish thing.
His throat closed up. Harry would be with other people like him: with money and spare shoes and health insurance and all those other things. At a boarding school, which as far as Peter could tell would be like a 24/7 sleepover.
“I think I’ll come back for Christmas.” Harry said, but there was something not true in his words. Something final to this evening on the playground on the swings.
“Yeah...”
Tears filled Peter’s eyes and the cold spread out to the tips of his fingers.
“Pete…” Harry’s voice was obscured with emotion, but he still didn’t move from up above.
“It’s not fair!” Peter whined, voice cracking sharply as he bent over and buried his face in his hands. Harry’s shoes smelled like new rubber and only faintly of sweat, and he hated that fact even more as the tears finally broke through his facade.
Tears were childish things.
“I didn’t say it was fair!” Harry snapped, voice crumpling alongside his friend. “But it’s what’s happening.”
“But why do you have to go away?” Peter cried, “You can just stay here. You could even live with us, you could — you could —“ he hiccuped and lost the edge of his voice.
Pale yellow twilight was falling across the playground, it made the equipment glitter gold against threads of sunlight. Peter screwed his eyes shut, his tears muddying the colors of the park into a wet, goopy mess.
Harry sounded strained when he spoke, “I have to go.”
Peter lifted his eyes, taking in his friend so high above him and in profile, washed out by yellow light, blonde hair sticking up and bottom lip jutting out.
“Right now?”
Harry shrugged and pointed to the parking lot. A black town car had pulled up and was idling, ready to steer Harry from Forest Hills. Maybe forever.
Peter buried his face in his hands again, weeping openly. They both listened to his free-flowing tears and short gasps for breath. The sun continued its careless descent all the while, as if mocking the boy in his grief by hiding behind tree branches, bringing on darkness and the end of the day with more haste.
Peter sniffled and tried to regain his composure, unsuccessful though he was.
Crying on the playground was a childish thing.
“Don’t cry, Pete. You’re gonna make me cry.”
“I can’t help it—!” Peter hiccuped, “I can’t… without you! I don’t even wanna try. I’m not gonna have any-any-anyone tuh talk to. Or anyone to play with or - or - or -“
“Peter.”
The car in the lot honked loudly. Harry swung around and over the swings, landing on his feet more smoothly than a ten-year-old perhaps ought to.
“Peter… before I go… I wanna tell you something.”
Harry fidgeted in his socks and neat slacks. Peter looked up at him, blinking past teary eyes.
A weight of expectation settled between them, one boy waiting for words from the other. The moment could have lasted a lifetime, in one of those ways that the world seems to slow down to give us the time to gather our courage.
“Well… I wanna show you something, actually.” Harry articulated each word carefully, stressing the syllables. Peter sniffled and rubbed his nose, anticipation settling in his gut. What could this be? This last thing his best friend wanted to impart to him?
Peter looked at Harry expectantly.
Harry took a moment’s pause to summon his courage. Then he stepped forward and grasped Peter’s face in both hands, leaning in close.
“Peter, I’ve already shown you —”
“All you've 'shown me' is exactly what you want me to see.”
“And? Are you really going to risk all of this just because you think I'm lying?"
"I will."
"No. You won't."
“You don’t get to make that decision anymore.”
Tony and Peter sometimes run into one of Tony’s “exes“, oftentimes when they go to some type of gala. (Exes here refers people tony had anything more than a ONS with) And a lot of them are still pretty jealous that Peter is the one Tony ended up with even though they never really had a chance. But they do their best to just try to make Tony, but especially Peter uncomfortable
Too bad it never really seems to work because Peter keeps smiling like a sunshine and Tony keeps his arm around Peter and they keep filthily kissing in front of the cameras and on the next gala it just repeats itself
