Hi it's me. Idk if that's like cool or unfortunate, but it's me.
Callback to the time I put in "we are a book" in duolingo instead of "we are reading a book". I'm smart. I swear.
Hi. It is currently 3:16 am my time, and I have a friend over yes? And we decided to watch movies. Specifically Spderman Far From Home, yes?
And now may be a good time to mention that for all my one shots, tonight was the first time I habe ever watched Spiderman Far From Home.
And um.
What
Just
Happened
WHAT JUST HAPPENED
I
ME
JUST WATCHED
SPIDERMAN FAR FROM HOME
FOR THE 1ST TIME
AND CAN I
WHAT
I'M
SCREAMING
FOR REAL SCREAMING
AT 3 AM
WHAT
THE
ACTUAL
FRICKFRACKTICKTACK
JUST
FREAKING HAPPENED!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
Okay. Sorry, but what the fuck. Its fine though. I'm okay. I'm not having a crisis. I'm okay.
Okay.
⚠TW⚠ detailed torture and death! Seriously, today was not a good gore reading day so when I reread my work, I really felt sick. Please don't read if you are bothered by that. Thank you.
Also
TORTURE! MY FAVORITE!
Kay story time.
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Tony blinked blearily, looking around the room. It was so dark, however, that he could really only pick out a few things. One was that he was definitely tied to a chair, another that it was for sure cold, so he was most likely in a basement.
And lastly, he most definitely was not alone.
He could hear someone else breathing in the room. He figured it wasn’t someone bad, as the breathing was erratic. Panicked, even.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Stark?”
Tony swore. It was Peter.
“Peter? Why are we here?” Tony didn’t know why he was asking, he should know.
“Um, I don’t know. If I had to guess, it’s because you’re IronMan and I’m SpiderMan.”
Tony snorted, amazed that Peter could still be sarcastic even when they were tied up.
“Wait, are you tied to a chair too?”
“Um, a chair? No, I’m literally bolted down to a table. Like, a metal table. Mr. Stark, you know how my senses are heightened?”
“Yes?”
“I can kind of see.”
“Can you see a way out?”
“Don’t you think I would have gotten us out if I could?”
“Right. Sorry.”
Peter sighed.
“Mr. Stark, this is vibranium. I can’t break the metal. And I can hear someone coming. Someones.”
No sooner had Tony opened his mouth to respond when he heard a door open, Peter let out a soft ‘oh’, and the lights turned on. Tony looked up just in time to see the door latch close, disappearing in the wall.
Tony blinked, looking around the room. It was plain and white, the floors and walls were all painted the cream color. There was a drain in the floor, and Tony's face paled as he pieced together Peter, in his grey t-shirt and jeans, being stuck to a table, and his face paled further as he saw the small side table with a cloth over it.
“Ah, welcome to the land of the living, Tony. you were asleep for a while. Peter here, on the other hand,” the man talking put his hand on Peter's face, tracing the boys jaw,” he’s been awake for a while.”
Tony growled, the sound deep in his chest. Peter started, shocked that Tony was growling at the man, even if he was unaware that Peter knew the man looming over him. (guess who!)
The man seemed startled too. But he recovered quickly, turning to Tony.
“Ah, the dog has a bark! But does he have a bite? Hm?”
“Touch him and find out,” Tony snarled. He was not going to let anyone hurt his kid. No way.
The man just smiled.
“Okay.”
He flicked his hand, and the other man that Tony hadn't even noticed was in the room, walked over to him, grabbing Tony's shoulders and holding him down in the chair. Tony glared at him, confused. He was already tied down, why would he need to be held down to-
His thoughts were interrupted by a small whimper. Tony's head snapped back to Peter, his mouth dropping open when he saw the first man was suddenly holding a scalpel to the boys arm, pressing down so that Tony could see blood. Rage filled his vision.
“Stop. stop right now. What do you want? Money? I can get you money.”
The man smiled.
“Money, huh? Hm.”
The scalpel went down further, and Peter bit his lip to keep from making a noise as blood flowed down his arm into a puddle on the table.
“No. I don’t want anything from you except for you to suffer. No, the only thing I want comes from little Einstein here.”
Peter whimpered, and Tony felt his stomach twist. The man smiled, raising the scalpel, examining the blood that was on it. Peter's blood. The cut on his arm must have been deep, because the puddle had spread so much that blood was now slowly dripping off the edge of the table, splattering on the white floor. Tony watched as the man scanned Peter's body like a hungry animal. Peter obviously noticed too, and he squirmed, whimpering in discomfort. The man smirked, raising the scalpel above Peter's collar bone. Peter whimpered as the man drew patterns on his skin with the sharp metal. Tony's blood boiled.
“Hey Einstein? Remember when you bit me once? When you still thought you could get me to stop? Where did you bite me?”
“Please, Steven, stop,” Peter whispered, so quiet that Tony almost missed it.
The man, Steven, just smirked, before pressing down on Peters collar bone. Blood droplets hugged the edge of the scalpel.
“Didn’t you bite me here? Damn, you were so fiesty! You did eventually give up fighting. It’s kinda nice, to see how I broke you so thoroughly that even now you don’t fight back. You’re a good boy, aren’t ya?”
Tony was shocked at the man's words. They were true. Peter hadn't fought at all sense the man had gotten in the room. But now, Peter looked pissed. His face contorted with rage and hurt.
“I’m not your dog, Skip. And you didn't break me. You’ll never break me, because I’m not an object to be used and broken by the likes of you.”
Steven seemed taken aback. Tony was, too. He’d never seen Peter so...aggressive. Yet here he was, chewing out this man standing above him with a scalpel.
A scalpel that flashed so fast that Tony didn’t know what was happening until Peter gasped sharply, his arm twitching as he tried to bring it to the cut on his collar, not remembering it was still tied down. Blood flowed, the floor around the table looking more red than white now, a small river traveling to the drain a few feet away.
“Peter, Einstein, sweetie-”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Call you what, kiddo? Hm?”
“Stop.”
Tony's voice echoed through the room. He didn’t know what made him say it like that. Maybe it was Steven using Tonys’ names for Peter. That was not okay. Steven sighed, turning his head over to Tony.
“Stop what?” he asked, lazily tracing the scalpel along Peter's body. Up and down, up and down, arms, chest, stomach. Up and down, up and down.
“Stop. It.”
Steven smiled, pushing down. Peter hissed as blood welled from the long line on his chest. The blood stained his grey t-shirt, which was now more red than grey. The scalpel kept going, trailing lower and lower, down to Peter's stomach, leaving a trail of red the whole way. More blood dripped onto the floor, the river to the drain widening. Peters whimpers turned into pleas to stop. Tony started fighting, struggling to get up, yelling at Steven to stop, to just stop hurting his kid.
The door opened suddenly, a small man popping in.
“Boss, the Avengers. They’re here.”
Steven whipped around.
“You were supposed to tell me before they got here! Not when they get here! Idiot!”
The man nodded and ran out of the room, no doubt running to get out of the building. Steven swore, turning back to Peter and Tony.
“Hm. well, I have to leave for now. But, my little pet,” he said, dragging the scalpel along Peter's jaw, “we will see each other soon.”
A bang rang out in the room, and Peter's mouth fell open in a silent scream as his face was covered in blood, thick, dark red drops that slid down his face like rain. Tony watched as Steven fell to the floor, his head bloody from the bullet. Natasha stood behind him, still holding the gun out.
“No, you won’t be seeing him anytime soon,” she said, in a hard, cool voice.
She ran over to Tony, quickly untying the rope. He hopped up and ran over to Peter, who was now hyperventilating, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his breaths coming out as wheezes.
“Tony, Tony get me out. Tony get me out,” Peter said, pulling against his restraints. “Tony get me out!”
Tony nodded, scanning the table for something, anything, that would unlatch the band of metal holding Peter down. He was panicked, panicked by the situation. They had been kidnapped, Peter had been tortured, and called him Tony. Peter called him Tony. That more than anything moved him to action.
“Shhh, it’s okay, little one,” Nat whispered, trying to calm the boy down. He only panicked more, yelling now.
“Tony get me out! Get me out, get me out, GET ME OUT!”
“I’m working on it, Peter! I’m sorry!”
Tony's eyes snagged on a button, and he pushed it, hoping, praying, that it would be the right button.
The sound of something clicking rang through the room, and Peter bolted off the table, running right to Tony, burying his face in Tony's shirt.
“Tony, Tony-”
“I know, I know. It’s okay now. I’m here. I’m here, Peter.”
Nat watched sadly, glancing down at the body of Steven every once in a while. She slowly walked over to Tony and Peter. They both flinched, Tony pulling Peter tighter against him, as if he thought Natasha would take him.
“Tony, I won’t take him. We need to go. He’s hurt. Okay?”
Tony nodded, turning Peter around halfway and walking to the door. Peter stumbled, his hand going to his mouth, as if just realizing what had just happened. A small sob came out of his covered mouth, and he staggered against Tony, letting the older man hold all his weight. Tonys' body was shaking too, still terrified that the dead man would somehow leap to his feet and take Peter again.
But he never did, not when they walked out of the room, or down the hallway, or when they stepped outside. Not when they made it to the car, or the MedBay, or Peter's room. Not when Peter stumbled into Tony's room that night sobbing, his mouth opening and telling Tony all about the man named Steven Wescott and what he had done, and certainly not when Peter finally fell asleep after jumping up and scanning the room every five minutes.
And he never did.
And Peter and Tony later watched as Natasha burned the body, a reassurance that, no. The man would never come back, and would never hurt them again.
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Tadaaaaa!
I don't really have anything to say, except its 3am and my energy is DEAD but it's okay. Yeah.
Who the fuck does Quentin Beck think he is?!?
Kay. I'm good. But not really. Omfg wtf is even happening!
Kay. I'm good.
Yup. Good.
Kay.
Anyways, hope you guys gals and enby pals are having a good day!
Peace out,
-person