prompts: whumpay day 2: touch starved/touch repulsed + day 11: don’t touch me/don’t leave me
tw: panic attacks, nightmares
credit for the title goes to @official-wayward-fairchild <3
read on ao3!
Peter knew something was wrong. He was reminded of it everytime someone hugged him, hell, he was reminded every night. It was in the way his mouth filled with this ashen taste that’s just a little too close to the rusty dust of Titan whenever someone hugged him. The touch infected him with dread and panic, with screams and battle sounds, with memories. His spider senses yelled at him in precaution and Peter tensed everytime, even though he knew that there wasn’t anything to be scared of. He was just overreacting.
The first time it happened, he’d almost pushed May into a wall, had almost hurt her. He’d apologized profusely, his hands shaking, guilt rushing through his veins, but May had laughed it off. Yet, the worried glance she’d sent haunted him.
Worst of all were the flashes—when a simple touch brought him back to Titan, more powerful than Dr. Strange’s portals could ever be, and he’s fading into dust, again and again, and Tony looked so broken and as scared as he was (though they’d both tried and failed to hide it), and he’s begging for his life, for Mr. Stark to fix this like he always did—I don’t wanna go—while at the same time, he’s in the supposedly safe arms of a loved one. It was twisted torture in its on way, and Peter couldn’t help but be reminded of one of the stories Loki had told about the time he had been under Thanos’s regime.
They’d promised him might like he deserved, promised him everything he ever dreamed off, and then mixed it with obedience. Suspected him to pain and fire, sometimes ouf of fun—Loki said he got that—and sometimes framed as a test. His already shattered mind had been broken once more. There was a sense of belonging there, with the false love they gave him and the chaos they promised. The mind stone deconstructed and built him up again. Chaos was his element more than ever.
Maybe, he was being tested too, Peter mused. He died, after all, and now he wasn’t sure whether he still belonged into this world, with everybody finding someone new and moving on. May had Happy, Tony had Morgan and Harley, even Ned and MJ felt aeons away. No. Peter chided himself for ever taking this analogy. His misery was nowhere close to Loki’s agony.
Yet, Peter was living a paradox.
He stopped hugging. It hurt too much and had the tendency to rip him from reality, so he just stopped. There’s a few raised eyebrows and concerned looks at first, but they eventually succumbed to normalcy.
“Would you like to notify Boss or try any of the 173 tactics of falling asleep I've collected, Peter?” Friday asked for what must’ve been the upteenth time, shocking him out of his thoughts. He shook his head in a sigh.
“No, Friday. I’m fine,” he answered, lamenting his dismissive tone. She just wanted to help, there was no need to be so rude to her. “Sorry,” he mumbled. The word got half-caught up in a yawn, and he wanted to kick himself for it.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t tired. Peter knew it was late, and even his bones felt heavy with exhaustion, but he just couldn’t sleep. Not while he was at the Tower. He’d been successful in hiding his nightmares from May, but there was no way he’d be able to do so with Tony. Least of all when he had a perceptive AI on his side. Scratch that, two perceptive AIs. He’d almost forgotten about Karen, but he knew if he asked her for company, she’d eventually report him to Tony. Sleepy Spider Baby Protocol, or however it was called.
Peter sighed. He was so tired. He just wanted to feel safe.
Red sand tickled his throat, and the wind began nibbling at his feet as he stumbled forward. Soon, he’d join the sand, dust to dust, like it had happened countless times before. At this point, he was more scared than confused. He knew what would happen. He just didn’t know why.
Peter looked up, his eyes scanning the battle field for his mentor. He had to be here somewhere. He always was. In panic, he turned around, ignoring how his toes disintegrated with the movement. Had he died? It happened before. Thanos’s stab always seemed worse in his dreams. But he couldn’t even find a body on the ground. He was all alone. Did he leave him? Did the wind already take them away, leaving him to die alone? He choked on a sob.
“Peter?” A voice asked behind him, scared and tentative. Tony. The teen spun around, and more fell than ran towards him. The man was perched on the ground, holding his guts together. He was crying.
“Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered in a plea. Tony looked up at him, but he was looking right through him, as if he was already mourning. His features aged momentarily, his hair turning grey and wrinkles closing in on pained eyes. A quiet, hopeful and sad smile adorned his face, the same one with which he sometimes watched Morgan. Peter could feel himself fading.
The boy crumbled before Tony, reaching out to him in a desperate cry for comfort. “I’m sorry,” he said, right before his vocal cords left him. At the last moment, Tony’s fingers grazed his, and in horror Peter watched as the dusting didn’t stop with him, but extended to Tony, moved up his right arm and eventually his face.
Peter lost his eyes before it was over.
He woke up with a start, eyes wide but unseeing. They were still gone, dusted, he’d be dead again, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. The air escaped him between sobs and panic. “Hey, hey, it’s alright, breathe, Peter, I’m here, it’s alright.” Suddenly, there was comfort. Peter blinked, and instead of complete darkness, shadows started to emerge.
“Tony?” he asked, hope tearing through his throat.
“I’m here, kid,” he promised. It was all the invitation Peter needed, and he shot forward, latching onto the older man. He breathed in the scent of motor oil and iron that never quite left Tony, and he was home. His heart beat faster than normal, but it beat, sometimes stumbling in a familiar way, and that was all that mattered. Tony was here. For the first time in a long while, his spider senses remained quiet. They were safe.
“Shh, it’s okay, kid,” Tony shushed him, gently rocking them as they sat on Peter’s bed. “I’m here,”—Peter tightened his grip at the words—”I’m alive, we’re both alive. We’re in your room at the Tower and it’s 4:14 am on a Saturday morning. It’s raining lightly outside, can you hear that, Pete?”
The spider stilled, focusing his senses on the weather outside. He panicked slightly as Tony’s heartbeat quietened, but his hand fisted around the hem of Tony’s shirt, and Tony’s constant assurances of it’s alright grounded him. Soon, his ears picked up the light pitter-pattern of rain. Peter nodded.
“Good!” Tony praised as if he’d just done the most amazing thing in the world. Without him noticing, his breathing had calmed. The air wasn’t evading him as it was before. Tony’s arms around him were warm and safe and Peter sighed in content. He missed this. God, how he’d missed this.
Tony’s hand found his, the one that was hanging onto the neck of his shirt, and covered it. Peter’s eyes widened as he remembered a flash from his dream. No. He couldn’t infect Tony. He couldn’t let him die, not again. Never. Peter coiled away from the touch suddenly and violently, ragged breaths returning. There was already dust in his lungs. No.
Tony followed him, but Peter fell to the ground as he hastily retreated, leaving his mentor standing there with raised hands signaling that it was alright. It wasn’t though. He’d infect him, and the dust would find him again, travel up his arm, take him away. It was in his name after all, wasn’t it? He petered out, faded gradually until there was nothing left, until his existence came to an end. He couldn’t spread that to Tony.
“Peter?” The man crouched down before him, slowly as if he was a scared animal. Peter shook his head. “What’s wrong, buddy?” he asked, hands reaching out.
“Don’t,” Peter pleaded, recoiling from his mentor’s safe hands. Oh, how he craved their warm embrace. But he couldn’t. He’d kill him. “Please don’t,” he cried, “I’ll infect you.”
“Okay,” Tony breathed, “okay. Infect me with what?”
“Dust,” Peter answered with a hiccup. At Tony’s puzzled expression, he elaborated: “I’m dust, and it’s gonna spread to you. It’s in my name.”
“Oh, kid.” Peter could practically see how a part broke away from Tony’s heart and fell down. That’s how it started, he thought, reminding himself of videos he’d seen of mountains eroding under water. “You’re not dust, not anymore,” he said, searching the room for something, “I brought you back, remember? I wouldn’t bring you back half-baked, Peter. All or nothing, that’s the deal.”
The kid nodded, still watching him with big eyes. He mustered the veins of scar tissue raking up his right cheek, and suddenly his dream made sense in a different way. Still, he wouldn’t wanna test it. He couldn’t kill Tony too. He wasn’t worth two of his father figures dying, let alone three.
Tony stood up and fear gripped Peter. He had enough of him. He’d realized the threat he was and would get himself to safety now. Only, that meant he’d leave Peter behind. “I’m not leaving, Pete,” Tony promised against his anxiety spouting lies, “I’m just getting something. See? I’m not even leaving the room.” He held up the water bottle Peter always kept on his bedside table to show him.
He came back. Peter almost wanted to smile, but his dust-infected body was way too numb to do anything but watch. “Now, could you stretch your arm out for me?” Tony asked. Peter sucked in a panicked breath. “I’m not gonna touch you, I promise.” Slowly, Peter nodded.
Cold water touched his skin as soon as he did what Tony asked of him, shocking him back into reality. “See?” the genius asked, “You’re solid. No dust here.” Peter nodded, blinking and staring at his hand, wet and still in one place. He looked up at Tony, who was smiling assuringly.
“Solid,” Peter repeated, the remains of the nightmare slowly leaving his body. “I’m solid,” he laughed.
“That’s right, Pete,” Tony praised, his hands switching towards him. He still slightly shied away from the possibility of touch though. His mentor fixed him with that concerned gaze, the one with which he could read him like no other, that implied that he was trying to figure out what bothered Peter.
“Can I hug you?” he asked. Peter shook his head. It was tempting, but he wasn’t sure whether he was ready for that yet.
“Rather not. Sorry.” Tony nodded, quickly hiding the sadness.
“That’s alright. Thank you for telling me.” He stood up, mindlessly extending his arm to help Peter up, but then taking it back with a scolding shake of his head. Peter chuckled. “Sorry, didn’t think. So, anything else you wanna do? Catch some sleep, watch a movie?”—he glanced at the time—”Oh, what about a hot chocolate? Rhodey should be up by now ‘cause he has an early meeting or something, and he makes the best hot chocolate in the Tower.”
Peter stood up with a laugh. “Hot chocolate sounds great.”
“Hot chocolate it is then,” Tony confirmed with a warm smile. “Friday, warn Rhodey if he’s awake, we’ve got a spider baby to pamper.” He left the room before Peter could object, and Peter quickly followed him.
tag list: (let me know if you wanna be added/removed!)
@starrynightdeancas @spookyscarykittycat @sherlock-who-mentalist @lost-lunar-wolf @aixabi
The ProjeKtors - Itaewon Class - Concours Dramas et Cinémas Coréens
This production is the only Jekyll & Hyde content I ever want to consume
ESOM as Kang Ha Na LEE JE HOON as Kim Do Ki
- TAXI DRIVER (2021)
Reddit men will see women being more friendly once they are in a relationship and will look for bullshit evo pysch reasons, like mate pre selection or women wanting 'forbidden fruit' now he's taken.
They will not listen to the most obvious reason, which is that now they are in a relationship, women will be less guarded around him because he's less likely to try anything and, hopefully, not do that stupid thing were he mistakes friendliness for flirting.
But nah, it's clearly something in women's subconscious wanting to get his attention at the sight of a wedding ring, that must be the only answer. He deffo won't have a shocking wake up call if he ever puts himself back on the market to capitialise on all this attention from women.
1991 - Beverly Hills, 90210 - 2x07 - Camping Trip
Episode aired 29 August 1991
The gang decide to spend the weekend on a parent-free camping trip at Yosemite Park, but neither weather nor cabin meets their expectations.
The newlyweds honeymooning next door share their problems with the teens.
Meanwhile, Dylan's drinking problem returns, but not before he works to save Brandon's life as he dangles helplessly over a cliff.
I will confiscate Elain from stans if I see 1 more person saying she can’t be with A//zriel bc they couldn’t have kids together
I think i'm subconsciously going through something because this is the third night i've had a very sweet dream about a guy, (with a bit of fucked up spooky shit in the background) and every night its been someone else????
i also think that for a backstory to be really tragic wrt villains you have to leave them enough free will that they retain their agency throughout the whole thing. a decent character's descent into darkness is much more terrifying when it's a choice rather than a constriction, but with enough context to make you see how even our own actions are shaped by forces greater than our single person
I.... feel empty.
you know those shows that you watch them and finish them and all of a sudden it's like something inside of you has changed? you cant go back to life before you watched it?
that's how I feel having just finished madoka magica.
I didn’t know sending tiktok links shows your profile on the top :0
I have my pronouns (she/they) and the fact that I’m bi in my bio ...
I send stuff to my lil bro all the time 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃
i feel like a rabid dog the more i listen to i feel it too the more insane i feel.....it has lwj written all over it this is so fucked up ..
OMG I GOT THE BEDROOM SCENE AND THEY FUCKED OR WHATEVER YOU WANT TO ASSUME HAPPENS IN A FADE TO BLACK SCENE WITH A FUCKING BED CREAK SOUND BUT. THE DIALOGUE IM SCREAMING AND CRYING ITS SO ROMANTIC I NEED WHAT THESE STUPID FRUITS HAVE
what if what if we could kiss and just cut the rubbish 🥺👉👈
I sing of my loneliness, of my sheltering As usual, as expected there is no one to hear it