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elenarodriiguez · 3 years ago

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yellow and blue striped shirts | n.n. & c.s.

summary: normally work is terribly boring and if it weren't for darcy, nick would've quit weeks ago. but if that were the case, he wouldn't have met a very distressed but insanely cute charlie spring trying to find his younger brother.

pairing: nick nelson x charlie spring

word count: 1595

read it on ao3

The one thing that they never truly tell you about university is how bloody expensive it is. Nick was lucky in a lot of regards: his mum earned far less than his dad and since he lived with her, he got a lot more student loans than some of his mates did.

However, living in Leeds isn’t as cheap as he’d thought it would be. Between paying for student accommodation, keeping on top of his car payments, and financing the ridiculous amount of compulsory excursions for his fieldwork modules, he’s lucky if he has enough money to get his shopping for the week.

And seeing as the SU wasn’t hiring at the moment - probably the only time that has ever been the case - here he was, spending his evenings and weekends wearing the most obnoxious yellow and blue striped shirt known to mankind. It wasn’t all bad, he’d made a great friend in Darcy, his work spouse, and had actually been reunited with an old school acquaintance in their girlfriend, Tara.

Of course, he could certainly do without working four days of the half term week. There was nothing worse than trying to avoid little kids running amok while their parents let them burn off energy in an enclosed environment. All the while you’re trying to avoid causing serious harm to them, by errant furniture or otherwise, in fear of one of their parents ripping your head off.

And so when he sees a flash of black hair zoom past him at the speed of light, he thinks very little of it, simply sending Darcy a look of despair which they reciprocate. However, what he doesn’t expect to see minutes later is a much taller messy head of hair jogging up to him, seeming to be on the verge of a breakdown.

“Hi, sorry to bother you, have you by any chance seen the devil incarnate in the body of a eight year old pass by?” The boy pants, bending over in an attempt to try and catch his breath.

“You should stand upright.” Nick says dumbly, cursing himself for saying it even if he does get a proper look at the curly haired boy’s hazel eyes. “Bending over like that only makes the breathlessness worse. As for your question, quite possibly, is he your brother or something?”

“At the moment, I’m leaning towards ‘or something.’ I’m so sorry to ask, I know you’re probably like super busy but my mum will kill me if I lose him, would you mind helping me find him?”

“Not at all, come on, he can’t have gone too far.” Nick says, gesturing for the boy to follow him.

They wander through the kitchen segment, introducing themselves to one another, Charlie softly smiling at him, showing off a set of dimples that would be making Nick swoon if he had time to dwell on the matter. Every now and then they call out Ollie’s name, not wanting to garner too much attention in case Charlie’s parents hear.

From there they walk into the lounge area, Nick secretly glad that Ollie hadn’t decided to make a pit stop here, and the bathroom design room, Charlie’s strides increasing in speed as they struggle to find his brother. In order to distract him, Nick starts asking him questions about everything but his brother, doing his best to stave off a panic attack.

“So, what brings you to Leeds? Not being funny but you don’t exactly sound like you’re local.”

“Neither do you really. Maybe a tinge of the Yorkshire accent but nothing major. I’m actually here for an offer holder day at Leeds, if all goes well I should be starting a law degree here. Mum and Dad just thought it’d be a good idea to let Ollie loose in Ikea since we don’t have one in Herne Bay.”

“No way. That’s so weird.”

“I’m sorry?” Charlie says, his apology hesitant and full of confusion.

“You say that a lot. No, it’s just, I’m from Herne Bay too. I’m a first year, although I’m not doing anything smart like bloody law.”

Charlie’s cheeks flush pink and he mutters under his breath about how he isn’t that smart, before asking Nick where he went to school. As it turns out, while Charlie went to Truham, Nick had gone to St. Johns on a rugby scholarship, something which Charlie takes great pride in equal parts gawping at and making fun of. They both are so wrapped up in their own little worlds that they hardly notice the pintsized torpedo sprinting in their direction and latching onto Charlie’s legs at a breakneck speed.

“Oof.” Charlie huffs out, moments later hefting his brother onto his hip without any issue, much to Nick’s silent appreciation. “Ollie, what did Mum and Dad say before they left us?”

“¡No huyas sin Charlie! Lo sé, lo sé, pero vi a este niño con este peluche de tiburón súper genial, y quería encontrarlo antes de que Mamá pudiera decir que no.” Ollie rattles off, sounding more like an unintelligible babble than anything else to Nick.

“Okay, that’s great and all, but you still ran off without me. Tell you what, let’s ask my new friend Nick here, who was helping me try to find you, if they have a shark toy that you can get Dad to buy you. Nick?”

It’s as if Ollie has just noticed him and his brother weren’t alone, as his eyes go wide and Nick can see briefly his face flush bright red before he hides his face in his older brother’s shoulder. He’s a sweet kid, if a little shy, and the fact that Charlie obviously knows Spanish well enough to understand his brother gives Nick ideas he shan’t be entertaining in front of present company.

“We should have a bunch, come on, there’s a shortcut this way, and then we can get you back to your mum and dad, does that sound good?”

Ollie nods hesitantly, not shifting from his position clinging to his older brother, and Charlie simply lets out a resigned sigh before motioning for Nick to lead the way, mouthing his thanks over his brother’s head. The walk to the children’s department is fairly quiet, although he doesn’t miss Ollie’s loud whisper asking Charlie if Nick was his boyfriend.

Nick freezes momentarily, eyes wide and praying that any deity out there would be swift and merciful with his demise, however Charlie laughs it off, informing his brother that just because he’s gay and has made friends with a guy doesn’t mean they’re dating. He references a couple guys whose names are, unsurprisingly, brand new to Nick, but Ollie nods and sighs with more disappointment than should be possible in a child that small.

As they get to the bin filled to the brim with the desired shark toy, Ollie squirms in his brother's arms until he drops to the floor rather unceremoniously and sprints over to it, grabbing the toy and squeezing it close to his chest. He runs over with it, jumping up and down and tugging on Charlie’s arm to get him moving, meanwhile his brother nearly gets taken to the floor with the force the eight year old is pulling.

“¡Eh! ¡Basta ya! ¡No seas grosero! I am so sorry Nick, give me one second.”

“It’s fine.” Nick says, trying to subtly feel his cheeks to determine whether he looks as flustered as he feels right now.

“No, it’s not, and Ollie knows better.” He glares at his brother who mutters a sincere apology. “Thank you for all of your help today, seriously. I’m sorry if this is forward but, would you want to keep in contact? Follow each other on Insta or something, I dunno.”

“Stop apologising,” he laughs and Charlie laughs with him, “I’d love to. I don’t have my phone on me, but if you give me yours I can follow you back when I’m off work.”

Charlie hands his phone to Nick, their fingertips brushing as Nick takes it in his hands, and he grins when he sees Charlie’s gay panic wallpaper, looking at the curly haired boy and saying “same” before pulling up Instagram and following himself from Charlie’s account. Handing the phone back, Ollie impatiently tugging at his brother’s oversized jumper, he wishes them luck finding their parents before heading back to his section.

By the time he’s weaved around all of the people walking in the right direction, Darcy is leaning against the pristine countertop, a knowing smirk welcoming Nick back to reality. He holds his hand up in a vain attempt to silence the meddling blond, however it appears they couldn’t care less, loudly bragging about how they already told Tara that he’d left looking like a lovestruck idiot.

“Thanks Darce. Nice to know I can rely on you to keep things secret.”

“I never promised you secrecy, especially not when you’re crushing on someone actually attainable for the first time ever. So tell me, did you get his number?”

“No.”

“Nicholas!” They punctuate their annoyance with him by slapping his bicep, glaring ferociously at him.

“But,” he says, teasing them with his playful tone, “I did get his insta. And he’s from my hometown, so I’ll probably see him in the school holidays.”

“Nick. O. Las.” This time every syllable of his name is accompanied by a slap. “Why didn’t you lead with that? I was going to offer my sympathies to you, but you obviously don’t deserve them. So tell me, what’s he like?”

“Well, he speaks Spanish-”

#heartstopper #nick x charlie #charlie spring #nick nelson #heartstopper fanfic #heartstopper fic #daisy writes

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fangirlincorporated-blog · 4 years ago

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The Lucky Australian

~~ 7 Almost~~

I wouldn't know where to start

"Sweet Music" playing "In The Dark"

Be still "My Foolish Heart, "

Don't ruin this on me

It had been a few days, and even though he had tried to keep himself busy, she was always floating around his mind.

It didn’t help him that whenever his phone would buzz he was always hoping it was from her, he’d been disappointed to notice that she hadn’t messaged him as much as he had hoped. There had been a few selfies and an occasional funny text through, he knew she was seeing a few friends and doing all the touristy stuff, but he had still wanted all more attention form her.

Henry couldn’t work it out, was she apprehensive to contact him more? Was she trying to play it cool? Logically, he knew that she was just enjoying her time in London, and he had no right to demand all her time, but still…he had just wanted her.

He had spent his day gaming, broken up by hanging out with kal when Charlie called, with nothing better to do and not hearing from Aurora for a few hours, he found himself at the pub. The warm summer air lifting his mood as he and his brother downed a few pints and surveyed their surroundings.

“You looking for anyone in particular?” Charlie whispered.

Henry sighed and put down his beer

“No. Not really”

Silence filled the space between them.

“Henry, what’s wrong?” Charlie sighed

Henry shifted in his seat, unsure of how to explain to his brother that he missed a woman that he had only known for days. How he wanted to be greedy with her time but not smother her, how he wished that every time his phone buzzed he was hoping it was her. How, he wanted to know every part of her mind, body and soul. He wanted her completely, but what if it was only lust on his part? What if it was only just a fire and no slow burn…The many what if’s were enough to drive him crazy.

“How did you know Heather was the one?” Henry asked, the question even surprising himself.

Charlie let out a breath and twirled his glass in his hand.

“I don’t know how to answer that one Henry. I guess for me, it was just an instant click, my head and my heart were in perfect unison at the time, I had that little voice that just told me this was it” he shrugged.

“You moved your whole life to Canada, weren’t you scared?”

“I was terrified, but the overwhelming feeling I had was that when I was with her there was no place I’d rather be, and that I’d be ok, no matter what happens”

Henry looked down at his glass.

“Is this about a certain Australian you met a few days ago?”

Henry looked up at Charlie and nodded, his insecurity and worry must’ve been plastered all over his face as Charlie’s features softened in response.

“It’s just…I only spent a few hours alone with her after we were at the pub, and the next day and no, we didn’t have sex Charlie”

“I wasn’t asking”

“You were thinking it”

“Thought never crossed my mind. Continue…”

Sometimes Charlie really knew how to get under his skin and piss him off, Henry couldn’t blame him, having siblings meant never being able to get away with anything.

“I had a really great time with her, it just felt like everything fell into place. She said she would call me in a few days because she was meeting up with friends and sightseeing, and I’m a rational man, I get that Charlie, I do. Its just…I want all her time, I want to be with her, I want to talk to her, I want to message her all the time, I want to know her, I want to be in the same space as her. I know I shouldn’t be demanding of all her attention, but every time the damn phone buzzes I hope its her, and I cant fathom for the life of me why she isn’t messaging me all the time or talking to me”

Charlie hadn’t stopped looking at Henry. Henry continued.

“I know, like I fucking know that she’s just with friends, but the other part of me keeps questioning, why isn’t she calling me? Is it too much, too fast for her? Is she not as interested as I thought she was? What if me being me is too much for her? What if its just lust? What if she’s not over her ex?”

“Her ex?”

Henry sighed and rubbed his eyes

“They were together up until 3 years ago, whatever happened she still has nightmares about”

“Whoa Henry, what-“

“Charlie, I don’t know. Aurora said it was a great relationship and it ended. I only found out after she told me because her friends imessages were popping up on her ipad, she said she would tell me later”

Charlie stretched his arms out in front of him.

“That’s a bit of a red flag”

“Yeah, but I cant force anything out of her” Henry growled in frustration.

Charlie didn’t miss the anger, he didn’t miss the hurt or the confusion that draped itself over Henry. Picking his words carefully, he continued.

“Henry, from what you have said already, I think you really like this girl, hell, you might even love her at this point and you don’t know. You have never spoken about any other women you’ve dated or seen, like you have Aurora and you’ve only known her a few days. I think, this is something worth trying for. I think she might be it for you, but you’ve only just net her, you cant demand everything now, no matter how hard you want it. That’s the thing with love and all that shit. It’s irrational, its intense and it doesn’t make sense. Be open, communicate and be honest, that’s all you can do. You will both navigate anything else that comes your way.”

Henry looked up at Charlie, he always had this way of being right about everything. Maybe he was right, maybe all those feelings he was having were a precursor to something deeper that he cant explain, maybe his heart knows before the path is laid out.

“Henry, why don’t you message her and ask her to meet you? Even if she’s already busy with friends, she would make time for you”

He looked at Charlie and back at his beer, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and just stared at it.

He heard Charlie sigh.

“I’ll get more drinks while your compose your sonnet” He laughed, making his way to the bar.

Henry ran a hand over his face and started typing out a message.

~~~~~~~~

“So, its 3pm, I’m going to start getting ready. We’re meeting at her place for pre drinks, then onwards to this gay bar she said I would like” Raphi said as he looked over at Aurora

“Does that mean its time for my boots Raphi?”

“Bitch, its always time for them boots. First though, I’m using the shower.” Raphi grabbed a towel and moved to the bathroom.

The past few days she had been shopping with Nate and his husband, she had travelled up to leeds to see an old friend and then went all the way down to bath to see an old work colleague. Never mind in between all that, partying with Raphi and Hanhan. She was glad for the few days she would have alone in Italy coming up. Even then, she would be visiting family. Holidays are supposed to be relaxing, she thought to herself.

She picked up her phone, wondering if she should message Henry. She had spoken to him on and off, but didn’t want to bombard him with unwanted messages, especially if he had changed his mind. He had still seemed interested but she didn’t want to push it, not to mention she had been seeing friends, which was a welcome excuse to try and get her mind off a certain brown haired, blue eyed Adonis. Dating was a lot much harder than she remembered

Suddenly, her phone buzzed in her hand, her face lighting up seeing is name on her screen.

Hey, this seems incredibly stupid, but…I really enjoyed my time with you. Wondering if you’re free tonight? Maybe we could catch up?

She started her reply, yelling questions through the bathroom door to Raphi. As she was halfway through, another message popped up.

I miss your company.

Her heart melted a little.

I’ll come meet you for a drink, I wont be able to spend as much time as I want with you, I’m being dragged to a club. I miss your company too.

Short and to the point. Mere seconds later, Henry replied.

Same pub we met at? What time?

She smiled, replying as fast as possible before throwing down her phone and getting her boots on.

~~~~~~~~

Charlie watched Henry as he continued to throw glances towards the pub door.

It had been 3 hours since Aurora said she would meet him. As it neared 6pm, Henry started getting nervous, bouncing his leg up and down under the table, not focusing on conversations and forever checking his watch. Charlie smiled into his beer as he took another sip. He remembered those butterflies and those nerves.

Charlie was able to distract Henry for a few minutes when something caught his eye, he looked up and the first thing he saw were boots, followed by Aurora, he snuck a glance back to Henry who hadn’t noticed her yet. Charlie looked back at Aurora as her eyes found them in the pub, she smiled and made her way over to them as Charlie kicked Henry under the table. He looked up, startled and then looked to where Charlie was pointing. Charlie knew the moment Henry laid eyes on Aurora, he was in trouble.

Henry’s mouth fell open as she came toward him. She was wearing all black jeans with a black top, her outfit simply hugging every curve of her body, but the standout feature was the thigh high boots she was wearing.

They were covered in silver rhinestones. This woman knew how to make an entrance.

Henry was still stuck to his chair when she walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Sliding into the spot next to him he didn’t notice her friends following her and seating themselves at the table.

Henry was silent, just staring at her. All the sounds around him evaporating as he took all of her in.

“I’ll shout you guys a round before we have to go.” She laughed. Henry looked at her and was silent for a moment just staring at her until Charlie broke his silence when he spoke to her. Suddenly, the world came crashing back into Henry, the sounds of the pub, the warmth of Aurora next to him and the smell of the perfume she wore invading all his senses.

She laughed at something Raphi said. Henry looked at her, his hands itching to touch her in some way. Slowly, pretending to be interested in a ring she wore, he reached out for her hand, and just held it, not wanting to let go.

Charlie observed them while the rest of the group entertained themselves. Aurora, talking and joking with her friends, for the most part didn’t seemed fazed at all by Henry's need for closeness. It almost came natural to her that she expected Henry wanted to that contact. Everything about her demeanour and her body language seemed so relaxed, like this relationship had existed for years rather than days. Henry on the other hand, seemed hyper aware of every movement and touch of Aurora’s, his nervousness and almost giddy appearance that he was in the same space with as well as the physical contact of the woman he was infatuated with, betrayed his usual tough looking exterior. Basically, he became a big teddy bear.

After what only seemed like a few minutes to Henry, Aurora and her friends announced their departure. Their excitement and slight buzz from the few shots they downed evident on their faces as they got up to leave, ready for the night ahead. Noting it was only 8pm, Henry felt cheated those 2 hours had flown by, and became a little depressed at the thought of her leaving.

Aurora looked Henry.

“If I survive tonight, I promise I will call you tomorrow and we’ll go on a proper date!” she smiled

“Bitch, what do you mean if you survive tonight? You’re getting as fucked up as us!” Hanhan laughed at her.

“Listen I’m going to be the most sober one there, god knows this one wont bend over the toilet bowl to throw up” She pointed at Raphi with her voice taking on a slight Italian accent, hands moving with every word.

“There we go, there’s the Italian!” Raphi yelled over his shoulder, making his way out of the pub. Aurora laughed.

“I better be getting chicken nuggets at the end of this night is all I’m saying” Aurora leaned down to kiss Henry goodbye like it was the most normal thing in the world and walked out of the pub following Hanhan and Raphi.

Charlie looked over at Henry watching her go. He knew, in that moment, that Henry would be spending the rest of his life with Aurora.

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #straya #australia #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc

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thecazagroup · 6 months ago

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21astor · 9 months ago

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Say Hello to New luxury apartment developments in Portland

Get to Know Robert Ball

Robert Ball has become synonymous with luxury residential apartments portland, but that reputation didn’t come without paying the dues of hard work. Robert Ball’s passion for renovation and real estate began nearly 25 years ago.

On the Road to Portland’s Premier Luxury Apartments

After honing his incredible talent for purchasing and rehabilitating small properties, Ball purchased his first apartment building in Portland’s Nob Hill District. With a ton of elbow grease, he was able to transform the 1920s-era Sara Ann Apartments into a Class A apartment community, with the highest quality rating for a property.

Becoming One of Portland’s Leading Developers

Following the Sara Ann Apartments, Ball’s passion for revitalizing aging properties has grown exponentially. Robert Ball has completed six high-profile projects, in the heart of Portland’s downtown, including 21 Astor.

And now on to the star of the show — the 21 Astor community and its 27 impeccable units. Residents not only benefit from decades of experience in residential development, but also a deep-rooted philosophy of service, style, functionality, attention to detail, and excellence. There are many reasons why 21 Astor is distinct from other luxury apartments in Portland:

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Timeless red brick exterior

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Statuary Carrara marble slabs and 24k white gold Bisazza “cut-tile” mosaic in the lobby

Neoclassical designs

Ground-floor restaurants and storefronts

Private balconies for street-facing apartments

Public transportation options nearby

Community Features

On-site, indoor parking

In-house management services

Reserved storage spaces on each floor

Bike storage and maintenance areas

Pet-friendly facilities including washing station

Package acceptance and holding

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Apartment Floor Plans

One bedrooms luxury apartments range from 701 to 743 square feet and boast fabulously unique living and dining spaces larger than other apartments in Portland’s Pearl District. Every one bedroom also includes an en-suite, pass-through style bathroom and large walk-through closets with plenty of storage.

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Apartment Features

Crisp, clean, and modern designs and fixtures

Wrap around kitchens with top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances

Breakfast bar seating

Lofty ceilings

Conveniently located stackable washers and dryers

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Enormous windows that allow plenty of natural light

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Tiled bathroom floors as well as tiled shower/tub surrounds

Food pantries and linen storage

Extra storage lockers available

As you can tell, we’ve built something remarkable here at 21 Astor. With only 27 units, our team is able to put all our time and energy toward making sure every resident feels that they are truly at home. Our goal is to cultivate an upscale experience that’s a perfect complement to how you live, work, and play.

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#luxury rooms #portland #USA #apartments #2 bedrooms

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hale-13 · 4 years ago

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Enterobacter

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 2 - Food Poisoning

Being Spider-Man sometimes means that Peter has to eat on the job and eating in the job means eating a lot of fast food. Some of his favorite stops are new and local food trucks since most of them give him free food for the obvious influx of business he brings to them. And Peter loves Thai so much he just HAS to try the new truck that opened.

Words: 2339, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Tony Stark

TW: Vomiting

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Before the Bite, Peter was a staunch and vehement hater of warm weather. He spent every spring and summer feeling overheated and sweaty and gross and May and Ben would always joke that he ran hot which, Peter supposed, wasn’t completely untrue. He had always spent most of his falls and winters sleeping with the window by his bed cracked to let in the cool air and under a light blanket.

So November through about March was great for him. The rest of the year however? Awful. Miserable. Abhorrent. Just… any terrible adjective you could think of would work as a descriptor. The city heat was always so overbearing that their tired little AC unit couldn’t keep up and would, inevitably, give up and the Parker family would spend half the summer every summer without the blessed cool air flowing through their apartment. And the humidity! Peter felt like he was trying to breath and walk through soup – the heat wouldn’t be nearly as bad without the humidity.

One might think that, with the loss of his ability to thermoregulate well, the warm weather might be easier for him post-Bite but all it did was give Peter new things to worry about. For example: getting heat stroke for doing nothing more than sitting still in his bedroom and doing homework on a hot day.

Yeah. Peter really hated the warm weather.

Which explains why he wakes up on a Thursday in mid-May already angry and irritated and sweating through the ratty tank top and boxers he wore to bed about three minutes before his alarm for school is set to go off.

“Seriously,” he groans, rolling over onto his back and draping one forearm over his eyes in the perfect picture of teenage angst. His stomach twinges a little as he does and he bites back a grimace – probably shouldn’t have tried that new Thai truck while patrolling last night he thought. It didn’t help that he got it super spicy either, he supposed, but the delicious taste would more than make up for the irritability of his bowels later.

His phone started blaring a bright tone and Peter groaned louder, flopping out a hand blindly to snatch his the device up from where it was charging on his nightstand and shutting off the alarm, dropping the phone into the mess of sheets he had bunched up into a corner while he slept. He gave himself another couple seconds for his pity party before rolling off the bed and grabbing the towel he had draped over the end of his bed frame – intent on taking a cool shower to bring his body temperature back down to a reasonable level and wash off the sweat he could already feel drying over him.

“May?” Peter called as he walked out of his room. The apartment was almost eerily quiet for what should be May’s day off and Peter furrowed his brows in confusion – May normally attempted to cook breakfast on Thursday mornings before giving up and making them both bowls of cereal. Towel over his shoulder, Peter wandered into the kitchen and frowned at the fluorescent pink sticky note on the counter next to a fresh box of Lucky Charms.

Got called in to cover ER – twelve hour swing, home after ten.

Eat your breakfast!

Love You!

Peter crumpled the note and tossed it in the garbage. He was looking forward to grabbing ice cream after school with May at the new shop that had popped up the month previous but it looks like they needed a rain check on that one. His stomach bubbled again and Peter wrapped his arm across his abdomen in discomfort. On second thought, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to miss out on ice cream today.

The cool shower was refreshing but Peter, somehow, felt worse after. His stomach was straight up cramping now as he pulled on a light pair of shorts and a t-shirt, forgoing his usual layers and just hoping that the bagginess of the shirt would cover up his muscles. He frowned and swallowed down the sour, burning taste of stomach acid in his throat. He didn’t usually have a problem with acid reflux but maybe the spicy food was messing him up? Choosing to ignore it for now, Peter gathered up his books and homework to shove into his backpack before leaving the apartment to walk to school.

The subway that morning was absolutely vile. The smell that he could already barely handle on a good day was worse since it was simmering in the heat and Peter’s sensitive senses didn’t appreciate it. He had to choke down a couple of gags, which was not normal and hadn’t really happened to him before despite the offensive odor. He was used to the smell, it came with using public transportation in one of the busiest cities in the United States. The only good thing that came out of the nauseous feeling was the extra leg room when the other passengers sidled away from him with disgusted looks on their faces.

His relief (and that of the other passengers) was palpable when he was able to stagger off the car and onto the platform outside Midtown, though the temperature didn’t improve much since there wasn’t a good breeze that morning. Moving quickly, Peter made his way across the field and driveway to enter the blessedly cool school building.

“Dude,” Ned said, eyebrows scrunching, as he met Peter a couple minutes later by his locker. “You look like shit.”

“It’s hot,” Peter told him a little defensively, slamming his locker door just a touch too hard. Ned didn’t look impressed.

“No like, you’re really pale and a little green. Are you sick?” Ned asked, squinting his eyes at Peter.

Peter frowned, all he felt was a little overheated. Well, yeah, his stomach was still bubbling and cramping but that was just from the spicy food. He was fine. It was just the heat.

“I’m fine,” Peter protested, brushing past Ned to make his way towards their home room class. He wobbled just a little, lightheaded.

“Did you eat breakfast?” Ned questioned as he steadied his friend, still looking concerned, pushing them out of the foot traffic of the hallway and back up against the cool metal of the locker bank.

Peter’s mouth filled with saliva and he swallowed down the acid again before shaking his head ‘no’. There was no way he could stomach breakfast that morning – it would be like asking for disaster.

“I think you should call May to come get you,” Ned advised, still gripping Peter’s elbow and frowning deeper when Peter shook his head again in protest.

“She had to pick up a shift in the ER today so she’ll have her phone off and, anyway, I’m fine Ned!” Peter shook his arm a little, trying to dislodge Ned’s hand and not succeeding.

Ned bit his lip but released Peter’s arm. “You could call Mr. Stark?”

“For what?” Peter asked, frustrated. “I’m fine, I’m just hot and have a little stomach ache from eating at that new Thai truck.”

“Wait, you mean the one that normally parks off fifth? The green and purple one?” Ned asked and Peter nodded in confirmation. “Bro do you not look at the news? They had to shut it down late last night because some of their food was contaminated with E. Coli.”

Peter’s stomach twisted and grumbled ominously and his hands dropped to grip at the loose shirt covering his abdomen. “Oh,” he said slowly before abruptly turning to race through the near-empty hallway toward the closest bathroom. He barely made it into a stall, not bothering to close it, before he vomited up everything he felt like he may have eaten in the past week. He vaguely heard the door creak open as Ned entered but paid it no heed, doing his best to stay standing and hunched over the toilet so he wouldn’t have to touch it or the disgusting floor.

A few minutes and a round of dry heaving later, Peter didn’t care about how disgusting the floor might be and was just thankful to slide down the wall of the stall to rest, panting and dizzy, on the tile as he tried to keep anything that might be left in his stomach where it belonged.

“Peter?” Ned asked, peaking around the door to survey him. “Are you okay to walk? I’m going to take you to the nurse.” Peter moaned and leaned over to vomit another round. “I’ll take that as a no,” Ned sighed, his own face a little pale from trying to keep from being nauseous himself.

It took at least ten minutes after round two before Peter thought he’d be able to stand without falling over but Ned still insisted that Peter sling his arm over his friend’s shoulder so he could have support for the short walk to the nurse’s office.

“Oh Peter,” Ms. Shelly, the nurse, said sympathetically as she took in his pale face and trembling limbs. “You look awful honey.”

“He has food poisoning,” Ned told her, depositing Peter into one of the closest chairs and shoving one of the emesis bags on the table into his hand just in case he needed it. Peter gulped and nodded his head shortly in thanks, gripping the bag so tight he thought he might tear it.

“You can go on back to class Ned, I’ll make sure he gets home.” Ms. Shelly made a noise of pity and took his temperature before clucking her tongue in disapproval.

“Feel better buddy,” Ned told Peter with a pat on the shoulder before hastily making it out of the room so he could catch the tail-end of his home room, accepting the excuse note that Ms. Shelly passed him.

“Do you have a preference on which contact I call honey?” Ms. Shelly asked from where she was crouched down to eye-level in front of him and Peter let out a groan and squeezed his eyes shut in misery. May was at work which meant his only option was…

“Mr. Stark please,” he muttered, eyes downcast. Ms. Shelly raised a brow in obvious disbelief before she schooled her features. Peter was just glad she didn’t question him like most of his classmates and some of his teachers had taken to doing once the rumor about his internship had spread through the majority of the school.

“Let me just pull your chart and make the call okay? There’s a cot through the door if you want to lay down,” she gestured to the open door across from him before making her way to her office to pull up his digital chart.

“Thanks,” Peter said, seriously considering how nice it would be to just lie down again. This pleasant thought was interrupted by his stomach clenching again and he hung his head over the emesis bag, dry heaving but not managing to get anything up which was almost worse. He let out a little whine that he was glad Ms. Shelly wasn’t around to hear and stumbled into the single person bathroom in her office, sinking down onto the floor and gagging.

A light knock on the door sounded a few minutes later and Ms. Shelly’s soft voice called, “Peter? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he called back as loud as he dared before swallowing compulsively. It did nothing for the bile climbing up his esophagus and he leaned back over to vomit again.

“Just call me if you need anything sweetie. Your emergency contact will be here in about twenty minutes.” Peter let out a grunt of assent and let his eyes slip closed as he leaned back against the wall. He must have dozed off at some point because he woke up to the sound of the door creaking open and a low whistle.

“Looking a little rough around the edges kiddo,” Tony said, head leaned around the door to peer into the room. Peter, feeling tired and sick and embarrassed, let out a groan and felt his face heat up.

“This is the worst thing that has happened in my life. Ever.” Tony snorted as he entered the bathroom fully and crouched down on knees that popped and clicked to squat in front of Peter.

Peter closed his eyes when Tony reached forward to rest his cool hand on Peter’s forehead and hum. “Running a little warm too. The nurse said food poisoning?”

“Ate Thai that had E.Coli,” Peter said and then gagged at the thought, hanging his head back over the toilet to spit out bile. Tony moved his hand to rub up and down his back and made an empathetic noise.

“Just get it out buddy. Brucie’s waiting for us back at the tower with some anti-nausea meds for you and some fluids to help hydrate you.” Peter moaned and gagged again but nothing came up.

“Think I’m done,” he said a second later, wiping the tears of effort out of the corners of his eyes and letting Tony pull him to his shaky feet. The room spun briefly but he was able to keep most of his balance by leaning heavily on Tony’s arm. The walk to the car after signing out with the stunned secretary was a little blurry but soon he was ensconced in the darkness of the Roll’s that Happy favored driving lately.

Ignoring everything around him, Peter let his face fall to the cool, supple leather and he let out a sigh of contentment. He heard a chuckle before the emesis bag was pushed back into his slack grip with instructions to “Use that if you need to Bambino,” but Peter thought he might be done for a while.

Finally cool and mostly comfortable, Peter fell into a light doze, looking forward to spending the rest of his day cuddled up in a blanket under an AC vent in the penthouse sleeping and watching bad movies with his mentor.

#summer of whump 2021 #Prompt: Food Poisoning #spider man #irondad #summerofwhump #summerofwhump2

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vangoddamn · 5 years ago

Text

You’re so perfect

Vans 28th Birthday special!!

Warnings: Smut

You'd woken up earlier than usual, the excitement something that kept you from your dreams. He was still oblivious to the world around him, in his own little world that somehow you had managed to get lost inside of.

He looked peaceful and you didn't want to steal him away from his lazy thoughts for the day encroaching. You got the feeling you were more excited for his birthday than him himself. Well no, you knew you were because nothing could level with your excitement. You loved people's birthdays and making them happy in general and so when it came to Vans it came to no surprise to you or anyone around you that you went all out.

Van, of course, was the opposite, not really that fussed and most likely all he wanted to do was lay in bed with you all day, cups of teas, pancakes in bed and obviously birthday sex. He was a simple guy, one of the things you loved about him.

You so desperately wanted to lean down and kiss him awake. Lips ghosting over each freckle from his jaw bone to the bottom of his back that lay uncovered from a restless nights sleep. But instead, you bottled up your desires and crept out of bed in search of the decorations you had hidden. The party shop in town had practically been empty by the time you left the shop so you had enough to decorate nearly the whole flat.

You started in the open planned kitchen living room. Sticking bunting and paper streamers to the ceiling. There were confetti and decorations you didn't even know existed, yet you are aged perfectly and satisfyingly around the shared apartment. Finally, you snuck into the bedroom with the final decorations pinning the banner which read 'happy birthday Van' from one side of the room to the other. It faced Van meaning that when he woke up he'd see it straight away.

You fiddled with the tassels on the balloons you'd brought in and fretted over the amount of paper confetti was enough to look like a light sprinkle of happiness on the floor. Happy with the outcome you wandered off to the kitchen fixing up teas and pancakes for your boy. Laying out the maple syrup and cut up bananas on a tray before leading it into your room.

He was still asleep and with your jobs done you happily joined him in the cosy sheets of your bed. He was warm and skin so soft it made you want to be wrapped in his arms forever. He lay on his front and he faced you, your hand dancing over his bareback whilst the other arm held you up.

You always got butterflies looking at him, knowing you belonged to him and he belonged to you. How perfect things were, it was crazy and almost unbelievable. Almost. You fell asleep next to him unaware that you'd miss half the day from your lye in.

When his eyes started to adjust to the morning light that was poking through the sheer curtains, meeting yours he smiled. Still getting used to a house and not a tour bus. He wriggled under your hand, moving his body to sit up slightly, making a little noise that made wake up and nussle into him.

You moved onto his laps straddling him and smiling giddily. "Happy 28th baby" you beamed, leaning down to kiss his cheek, soon enough he moved you to align his lips with yours.

"thanks sugar" his hair had fallen in front of his face, leaning down rubbing your thighs which were resting on his. The contact-making you want to throw away all your plans and to just bask in each others company all day. Although that's what you had been doing for the last couple since he came home.

"I made you pancakes and tea" you giggled when his fingers traced up your thighs and to your hips, feathery and light making it ticklish. "And your present is in the kitchen"

"my present is right here" he whispered, a childish grin painted on his face. You wouldn't have known he was turning 28.

"Vaaan!" You faked disgussed.

"Nah only kiddin' babe, thank you" with his apology came a kiss to your nose, moving to the corner of your mouth where you aligned up to him.

"happy birthday" you mumbled into the kiss before pulling away from him and reaching for the tray on the bedside table. Moving off him you placed it down on his legs and smiled giddily, ready to dig in.

"Jeez, you've outdone yourself love!" He praised your spread of sweet pancakes and everything you knew he'd want. On the tray next to the treats was an envelope, with care he opened it, reading what you'd written the day before. You smiled knowing of the contents.

He opened it carefully, noticing two bits of paper fall out. He ignored them, going to read the card, his face full of concentration of the words you had written for him. And then suddenly his face lit up and he looked at you in disbelief going for the prices of paper that he'd previously ignored.

"fuck y/n, how did you even.," he muttered with shock, inspecting the tickets for the national. It had sold out nearly immediately but with mates, at the venue in Leeds, you managed to pull some strings.

"I hope that's ok," you smiled at him.

"babe, this is class" and before you knew it he had his arms around you and kissing your cheek, mumbling thank yous and love yous over and over in your skin.

After his praises and many giggles, you both dug into the fluffy stack of American pancakes you'd made. Like a child he drenched them in maple syrup, squishing banana and chocolate chunks on top. You were surprised he managed to finish them.

Once he had done you took the tray away into the kitchen washing up and cleaning everything up. It was hot and the sky was completely blue except the odd wisps of cloud that reminded you of candy floss. You didn't even realize you had been daydreaming out the window until Van crept up behind you making you jump.

"shitting Christ Van!" You screamed. Brushing yourself down, slightly embarrassed he'd caught you in a land of your own.

"aww I'm sorry baby come ere'" he giggled, playing off his amusement by wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you from behind.

"you're so mean to me, I've made you all this and look what you do to me" you sulked knowing it he'd just find it cute, he always did.

"Nah, I'd never be mean to yous, and I love the decorations" he smiled into you, you felt his breath against your neck knowing he was inching closer to your skin. The thought of him there making a blush go to your cheeks and your blood rush, goosebumps on your arms appearing.

"I love how you still go red," he whispered, placing a kiss lightly on your cheek. So light that if your senses had not just been heightened, you'd never even noticed his lips had come into contact with the skin.

Your body felt overwhelmed with his touch. Hands on your waist, tightly gripping you as if you might leave. But you couldn't even if you wanted, your legs had long since turned to jelly and he was the only thing keeping you steady. He placed another kiss on the nape of your neck, releasing tingles throughout your body. His kisses slowly but surely became feverish until he spun you around, looking deep into your eyes as if he could read them. Then again he probably could, he could see the desire that pooled within them and the want that rimmed the iris. You were so predictable.

He'd made you restless for his touch, greedy and wanting more. His hands roamed your body, one of them veering south towards the heat which was ever growing needier by the second.

"Van, the boys will be here soon-" he cut you off with another kiss, stopping the words from leaving your mouth.

"let's have a shower" he managed to speak through the messy kiss he held you in, leading you down the hall to your bathroom. He turned the faucet as soon as he was in, letting it warm up whilst he took care of you.

You were still in his t-shirt that you slept in, falling loosely around your frame. He looked at you as if he had already undressed you in his head.

He closed the gap between you both, pulling the top over your body carefully. You were now naked except for the violet lace panties you had slept in. His hands trailed down from your shoulders to your hips pulling you into his, the pressure almost unbearable.

He had already been topless, only in a pear if boxers which you gladly stile from his body. There was something about the intimacy you both could share. It was hot and passionate but at the same time slow and full of appreciation, the safest you'd ever felt with someone. You quickly discarded of your panties and joined him in the shower, the heat surrounding you.

You pulled him closer, your arms resting loosely around his neck, fingers playing with his hair. You kissed the corner of his mouth, going to his jaw and trailing down until you were on your knees. He was already hard and you smiled, knowing you had the same effect on him as he did on you.

You took him in your mouth, setting out a slow pace, your hands working the base. You could hear him moan in satisfaction, deep guttural sounds when he called your name. His hands gripped loosely in your hair, pulling so you could feel his need. You could feel him pulsing, starting to speed up your pace increasing ever so slightly by the second.

"fuck y/n!" He called out loudly. One of your hands still stroking him, you softly traced down the inside of his thigh, making him moan even deeper when your head bobbed further over his dick.

You yours between speeds, making him wait for the climax knowing how much better the release would be. You could taste him, knowing his climax would arrive soon. Your cue to speed up, taking more if him, your eyes water. His moans and praises were even louder now, a warning that held true. He unloaded into your mouth, the salty liquid dripping out of your mouth, over your chin. You swallowed, wiping your mouth before licking him up until you met his eyes.

He looked shocked and deeply satisfied. "You like that birthday boy?" Shooting him a wink before he pinned you against the cool tiles of the shower and peppering kisses along your body.

"love you have no idea.." before you had time to even think through his next moves, his fingers were on your clit. Massaging around, swirling up where they threatened to slip inside of you. Your breath caught in your thought, unable to breathe knowing what he was doing.

A moan slipped out of you involuntarily when he dared, his arms wrapped around your waist whilst your arms held him tightly to you around his neck. He knew exactly how to work you, forcing moans and explicit things you never dreamed of crying out to slip from your mouth. You didn't even notice how loud you must've been until you heard someone call out.

"hellooo?" It was Larry's voice, and you could sense his cheeky tone. Your cheeks instantly turned a bright shade of magenta looking at Van as if you'd just been shot.

"babe it's alright, only Larry.." he said kissing you once more, his fingers pulling away from where you needed him most. It felt uneasy him not there, especially him leaving before the real pleasure kicked in. "Don't look so sad, I'll finish you off later" he winked turning the shower off and hopping out, leaving you even more red and flustered.

He wrapped a towel around his waist before holding one out for you signalling you to walk over to him. He wrapped it around you tightly, placing a kiss to your nose and patting you on the ass as you left.

"hi, Larry sorry bout that" you nervously apologized not quite sure what he had heard.

"s'all right y/n, sorry to ruin your fun" with his comment your stomach flipped and cheeks reddened. And before you could say anything the others came through.

"wow y/n, you look flustered, you ok" Benji chuckled, pointing out your uneasy expression.

"ah lads, quit teasing her ey!" Van warned them, although you could see his grin under his tone. Maybe he was happy the reaction he got from them or maybe it was the colour you had gone from both the lack of contact with him and the teasing.

You skipped over to the bedroom, hiding away to calm yourself down from the morning's activity, and your embarrassment. You let the towel drop to the floor and went to find something in which you could wear.

You pulled out the lingerie you'd splurged on from Ann summers for the special day and stepped into it. It was a completely sheer, mesh spotted body in soft baby pink. It was something you probably would never wear but now you were in it you couldn't help but check yourself out in the mirror. It accented your curves in all the right places and gave you the wave of confidence you had been missing.

You decided on your dark green pleated midi skirt and a black band tee, pairing it with a couple dainty necklaces and your docks. Before you could walk back to your group of friends, Van walked in a smug smile on his face and looking you up and down in what seemed to be awe.

"you look, beautiful love!" He complimented you, walking up giving you a twirl making you giggle with his playfulness.

"only for you," you smiled, resting your hands on his waist. He leant in smiling into a kiss that was only meant for the two of you. He left your touch, changing into some black skinny jeans, but you stopped him before he could continue dressing.

"I have something for you", You smiled up at him, half wishing you could just rip each other's clothes off and spend the day in bed, the other half excited to get hammered at the pub.

"ooh-" he mocked before you cut him off handing a present, neatly wrapped.

He opened it to find a shirt from Mary and Bernie. It was a deep burgundy, a colour he'd always suited. His eyes lit up when he saw the card reading who it was from.

"Thought you could wear that tonight" You suggested to him, taking the shirt from him and putting it on his frame, fastening each button, leaving a couple at the top for your sake.

You both returned to the lads together, hand in hand, brushing off their leud comments as best you could. Still going red when Bondy commented 'I didn't know you were so loud'.

Ater their teasing you headed out for tea at the pub in town. You had thought about booking somewhere fancy and posh but you weren't the types of people to dine in such places. You knew as soon as you sat down you'd all be judged and never be able to relax. The pub was your best bet.

---

It was late in the evening now and you were without question glad about your decision of the skirt. It gave you enough room for the food baby which had reached its second trimester by the time shots arrived. You joked around with Larry about your 'baby', admitting to Van that in fact, it was Bobs. Making Bob beg Van for his forgiveness, explaining how you could raise the baby, the three of you.

Safe to say the night was going as planned, and as you swayed into Van's shoulder at the bar you mumbled sweet nothings into his ear, looking up him like a puppy.

"I looooove youu" You sang into his ear, giggling when he said it back, shaking your head. "No, like I reaaaally really love you Vannny" You slurred, if he hadn't dealt with drunk you for a while he wouldn't have been able to make out the words.

"And I reaaaally really love you y/n" He whispered in your hair when he pulled you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. "Thanks for making my birthday perfect," He mumbled.

Soon after you both decided it was time to head home, leaving the lads and walking home messily. You leant on him for most of the walk, hand in hand, happily drunk together, your favourite type of drunk. The cool air that blew a gentle breeze through the city sobered you up, letting you appreciate the night and the man you got to share it with.

"I can't believe that if you weren't born today, I wouldn't be here either," you thought out loud, drawing a laugh from Van.

"I can't believe I managed to get a las that is this funny and this beautiful when drunk!" He thought back, giving your hand a small squeeze.

The cool breeze was starting to give you shivers, making you ever so thankful your flat was so close to the pub. The flat was still fairly warm from the sunny day and warmed you up.

You were tired now and was happy when Van led you straight to your bedroom. You both stood there for a while in each other's arms, taking a breather from the day. He pulled away looking at you with all the adoration in the world. You smiled, unbuttoning the shirt that not too long ago you had been dong up. You helped him undress until it was your turn, forgetting your lingerie, you let him lazily undress you until you noticed his face.

He looked shocked, but a lazy smile lingered on his features. "God, your perfect" He whispered.

You giggled at his boyish smile, leading him to the bed in which he took his time taking off your body suite, your two tired frames snuggled up together, lazily kissing. No intent on anything else, just happy with the day you'd been given.

"Hope you had a good birthday baby," You mumbled into his chest, smiling when he just nodded into you. "Glad you liked your presents," You whispered, ready to close your eyes and drift to sleep.

"My favourite one was you," was the sentence that let you relax completely and made your heart melt. So in love with your boy.

A/N: Hey you beautiful people! So it’s Vans birthday today and I couldn’t resist doing a birthday fic, does anyone else wonder what he’s doing. Well whatever it is I hope he has a lovely day, as do you!! I’ve had alot of requests for Bob/Benji stuff so expect that next!! Anyway, hope you are well, I’m always here for a chat if you neeed xx Em

#van #vanfic #van mccann #van mccann fanfic #van mccann x reader #van mccan fic #van mccann fanfiction #McCann #catfish #catb #Catfish and the Bottlemen #fanfiction #fanfic #catfish and the bottlemen fanfic

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dise7se · 4 years ago

Text

gone, gone (thank you)

by @spideysforce (8.1k) for @tonystarkdadmode ( @irondad-fic-exchange )

Characters: Peter Parker, May Parker, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds, Flash Thompson, Betty Brant, Quentin Beck, Tony Stark, Matt Murdock, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Karen Page

Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Quentin Beck & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Summary:

Peter has paranoia looming behind him, always watching him, never lingering too close but never leaving him alone. In each dark corner of any alleyway he’s in, paranoia follows him. The green gases and mists seeping out of his city’s storm drains, twirling mystically around his feet, those are all Mysterio. His anxiety-addled brain has convinced him each warp of sulfur dioxide twirling through the air, green subway lights illuminating each particle is Quentin Beck, taunting him in his home."I've got a show waiting for you in Manhattan."

— prompts: presumed dead, hypothermia, and hurt/comfort

read on ao3 (leave comments and kudos)

“There is no way Parker is Spider-Man!” Flash said, voice distant down the hall of the snow-lodge cabin, game pieces clacking against the board.

“And why can’t he be?” Betty asks, voice muffled over a piece of licorice.

“We’ve already been over this,” Ned sighs, the room quieting except for the crackle of the fireplace in front of them where they gathered on the living room floor surrounding the coffee table.

“Bullshit.”

“The dickwad is right here, you know,” MJ says, setting her mouth straight to hide her laugh. She fails. “Ned, let’s hear him out. Can Flash really connect Peter Parker to Spider-Man? JJJ couldn’t.”

They can, not that the Daily Bugle should have aired out his business for all of his home city to prey on, for Mysterio to get into his head, and target every last of his loved ones. It had only been a few months since the older man had faked his death on television, had the Daily Bugle ruin his reputation more than they’ve already tried, and Tony Stark worked tirelessly with Pepper Potts to backtrack on this PR nightmare that carefully painted a brushstroke target on each of his loved ones.

These last few months, his previous mentor has been out of commission, along with other Avengers. He can’t complain, though, he has a feeling he’s making new allies in his home-burough while being a vigilante. Possibly a new mentor, but that’s him projecting. There is no Mysterio if he buries himself in school and work, if he’s exerting himself.

He walks over and joins the rest of them in the living room of the cabin from the hallway where he set down his suitcase and organized it before aunt May came back.

“You hear back from MIT?” MJ asks, scooting closer to him once he sits down on the floor beside her and the coffee table.

“Not yet,” he says, all the attention shifting to him. “I think we’ll all hear back by next week.”

“Well, we may have applied, but it doesn’t mean all of us will get in..” Flash announces, earning an elbow to the ribs by an exasperated Betty.

This is their new dynamic now, really, maybe it was their subconscious way of coping with their previous summer vacation, they began gravitating towards each other.

Peter watched the confusion flicker across Flash’s face, mumbling an apology and a sarcastic, “it’s true..”

He’s been doing that more often, and even though he’s made it clear that he hates it when Peter looks at him with that, ‘psychoanalytical’ face, he’s trying to figure him out. Flash is an electrical current, a neon light buzzing, flickering and it seems like there’s a fuse ready to burst into flecks at any time. He doesn’t mind when Flash is annoyed with him, he knows sophomore and junior year bailing on Academic Decathlon was his fault, but there’s a weight off his shoulders since his identity was revealed to the entire world, he’s in a legal case with a local Queens lawyer to soften the blow currently, and he can handle these little outbursts.

If Flash goes around the school revealing his identity, well, he doesn’t have much leverage.

He puts everything he has into tormenting Peter, but that’s how he is. That’s how their classmates see him, he likes being the center of attention.

The second time he noticed it happen, it was after their Europe trip. He was hugging May, holding her close, Betty, Ned and MJ scattered, and he caught sight of Flash. May turned their 1940s Revolvo on and they sat with the cold air blowing on their faces, May’s face flickering between him and Flash and his butler.

He never dared to bring it up. Ned and MJ never allowed him to, no matter how subtly he planned to. It wasn’t fair of his family, it wasn’t fair for him to go through alone. He never fooled Petter with his facade, but the sinking feeling in his stomach felt worse. He couldn’t ignore it any longer, no matter how many obligations he has to worry about.

Ben taught him when any situation arises for him to be the bigger person, he needs to be the bigger person and assume responsibility. He knew he needed to help find Flash a safe space if he couldn’t by himself. Or, fuck, even just support him whenever he needed to.

In his own fucked up way, Flash had his back as well.

He shoved a skateboard into his arms one afternoon after leaving a Decathlon meeting, murmuring he needed a skating partner today. To not take it personally, they wouldn’t hold hands or anything, but to make fun of someone else if they fall off the board or eat shit.

He had a feeling, and he thinks he’s right. That morning, Peter came in late, nearly dragged in by May because of a late night run-in with Silver Stable. With the scrapes and bruises from being dragged through Manhattan, he might as well have been dragged by a skateboard and not his web shooters.

So, they skateboarded.

And he did eat shit.

Ned, MJ, and Flash scold Betty for accidentally shoving the Monopoly board too far to the left, Ned yelling at Flash to stop cheating and taking his money. May comes in at the perfect time, yelling over the teenagers that she bought everyone’s sandwiches from the sub shop.

“May, you bring my camera in?” Peter asks through a full mouth of lettuce, bread, tomato, cheddar, and deli-meats, earning a light playful smack upside the head.

He doesn’t miss Flash’s furrowing brows, his body immediately freezing from across the kitchen island. She mutters, “Yes, Peter, next time I’ll make you walk a quarter mile in the snow for it.”

He snorts, earning a small, ‘smeck,’ on the forehead and watches May pass out the rest of his friends’ food and chips and drinks. He forgot what this was like, back in Europe with Ned when they felt independent on their own and like they could take on the world from a small, cramped space with all their friends.

“Hey, Peter, did you get an email back from that lawyer?” Ned asks, chewing loudly from his chips and turning back to him. His other half, the other part of his brain, oh, where would he be without Ned? “Remember, you said you’d get one.”

“Mm!” Peter exclaims with a full mouth, taking his phone out from his jean pocket. He doesn’t give the group any details, ever, just the public information the brand new firm allows to go to the press. They’ve strategic in their methods, and May was the most doubtful at first, but the two lawyers and impressive secretary were not as amateur as their clientele suggested.

He turns his phone screen to let May watch his email app load, slurping loudly on his drink while May sighs. “You know, I won’t miss that when you go off to school next year. I think you do it on purpose.”

“Hm, a schemer never tells.”

An email with the subject Please read by tonight, 12/11 which makes his stomach lurch. May hesitates, grabbing onto his hand holding the phone and her hand shakes slightly before she presses on the lock button. This could mean anything. His paranoia, the slight buzz constantly whirring behind him at all times from his senses could be triggered by anything and everything, could be confirmed by this email.

May squeezes his shoulder, ready to talk to the rest of the group once she notices his jaw lock-up in anxiety. “We did get an email. Come on, after you guys eat, we’ll do ice skating as promised.”

MJ continues with their conversation about MIT earlier, which leads to an argument over whether or not there truly is a class on street fighting mechanics, or do they call it that to glorify physics.

He knew forgetting about the email until he could be alone to read it with me would not help him at all. He excuses himself, picking his phone up and ignores the worrying glances from his friends.

Before he can think to text Tony, his caller ID flashes across the screen. “Hello?”

“ Hey, Peter ,” he begins, “I only have a few minutes to talk, Morgan’s taking a bath and is currently making bubble potions that may or may not be spilling over the bathtub. Wanted to check in on you..”

“Don’t let Morgan flood the bathroom again, Tony,” he says lightheartedly, knowing why he’s calling. “Listen, were you cc’ed into the lawyer’s email? I haven’t read it yet and—”

“Whoa, slow down kid,” he says, and Peter walks up the wooden stairs of the lodge, watching the living room between the wooden panels. He really needs to give Tony shit for inviting them to a cabin the size of his apartment complex floor. “ That actually is why I’m calling. They said Nelson has reason to believe Mr. Beck may be conspiring inside of the prison, but he can’t know for sure. This is not a reason to become anxious, okay?”

“What do you mean he’s conspiring?! ” Peter yelps, yanking the nearest door open in the long hallway and closing himself in with an unnecessary slam. “What reason does this lawyer have?”

He thinks his friends can hear him from downstairs, he knows May can.

“ Calm down ,” he chastises over the phone, his voice rough and quiet. Peter curses himself for making the man drop his own familial responsibilities for him, but his guilt complex the size of Manhattan won’t let him go through this by himself. Like he needs to. “ Don’t get worked up. I wanted to call and let you know I have someone looking into this even further, along with Murdock and Nelson. It’s probably just a threat out of boredom, probably got a smack on the wrist for staying out past curfew and he wants to take it out on everyone. ”

Peter sighs, sinking down onto the ceramic tile floor of the bathroom. It’s large, has fluffy white towels on a rack to his left, a large walk-in shower, and is bare of bath-mats but signs point to supplies under the sink. This is good, he thinks, he can ground himself.

The tile is cool on his hand, it’s freezing him through his jeans, one of the laces on his snow boots came undone, and he can hear Morgan screeching in the background over her magical bath potions that she’s going to make a mermaid out of.

“ You still with me? ” Tony’s voice comes through the other end of the phone, and he swears he can hear more crackling than usual. It might just be the snow drifting outside messing with the nearby towers and powerlines.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m right here.” His voice comes out even smaller than intended.

“Can I call you back? I need to call May now, and— Morgan, you can’t use scissors on the bubbles! ”

A sense of familiarity washes over Peter, and he succumbs to the feeling of safeness associated with Tony and Morgan. He’d been too close to death already. He was dead. And after navigating life without Tony for a while, he piled each responsibility like building blocks, a delicate glass structure he could shatter at any given moment, and Mysterio took a hammer to the glass. Thanos buried his glass structure, leaving part of him under with it.

“Yeah, Tony. Talk to you later. Miss you, too.”

The rest of the night goes on, and May prepares them all hot chocolate before she heads off upstairs to take a hot shower. The uneasiness never settled inside of him, a nemesis unwilling to leave him alone.

His heart thrums wildly in his chest, his hands shake and feel numb, and he wonders why .

Is it his body’s reaction to having to spend a few nights away from the city during their holiday trip, unable to patrol? Is it lingering stress from senior year, that he and May haven’t properly celebrated all of Hanukkah yet?

He must be incapable of relaxing, turning back to the couch where he’s curled up with 4 of his friends watching Home Alone 2.

“Hey, is anyone else’s toes feeling numb?” he turns to the group, watching them blearily blink at the TV from exhaustion.

“Your toes are numb ?” Flash asks from beside him on the floor, leaning against the couch with his head tilted to the side. He has no idea how that could be comfortable at all.

“Yeah, numb.”

He needed to keep talking to someone, hearing his friends talk, too. It might just be anxiety, or his PTSD symptoms bothering him. After Europe, the school forced everyone on the trip to attend at least one counseling session, and Murdock and Nelson had suggested the same when they took on the case early-autumn.

He wanted to take the advice, especially since it meant so much to May.

The cabin’s living room TV is quietly playing a documentary about the dangers of climate change and the remarkable effects the current generation will face when Peter’s jolted awake, his heart thudding in his chest and his alertness draws him from his sleep. He must’ve fallen asleep when he was in between MJ and Betty a couple of hours ago, he’s covered in a blanket and feels a pillow that wasn’t there before, supporting his neck- May’s doing- and it’s now when he realizes MJ isn’t beside him anymore, there’s too big of a gap on the couch.

He stills, not wanting to call out her name if she’s just using the bathroom or went back to her guestroom. Peter reaches his head over to check the time on the TV clock, and it’s nearing 2:30AM. The anxious feeling of danger looming in the distance, of now being watched returns and he needs to run some sort of perimeter check, maybe they have security--

“Peter!” he hears a distant shout from outside, a girl’s shout— and he immediately blanches. MJ .

His heart rate picks up, and he kicks the blanket off of him and stands. The snow is falling heavily outside, still, never seeming to let up and blocks out the nearby street lamps and backyard lamps. “MJ?!”

He turns to check if his whispering disturbed the others yet, but he decides he’ll go investigate first. He’s Spider-Man, he can head outside to check for her.

He turns to grab his oversized winter coat and his snow boots when he notices the backyard sliding door’s open— where he must’ve heard the scream from.

“Guys!” Peter shouts into the quiet living room, interrupting the warm peace from the TV playing and whatever phase of their sleep cycle there in. “Wake up! I think MJ”s outside!”

Peter runs out into the cold, a gust of wind hitting him immediately and causes his whole body to shiver while he shrugs his coat on for 25 centimeters of snow. It reaches his mid-calves and it seeps into his pants, each frozen entity stinging him and dragging him down into the ground while he runs— he doesn’t know where he’s running to, but his throat goes raw from screaming for MJ.

Frustrated none of his friends woke up in the wake of his own panic, his senses are screaming at him, danger, danger, danger , he’s too cold, his heart feels frozen. The low hum of his senses dial all the way to his limit. He screams and falls into a pile of snow on the ground, hiding himself from the danger that doesn’t seem to be there. Yet.

“MJ, where are you?” he screams, his mouth betraying him with the sound of wrecked sobs, desperacy ready to escape him, his eyes are wide and terrified. He gets back up, swaying on his own feet and he’s inhaling too many snowflakes, they’re everywhere.

He needs to find MJ, right now. She could be out here completely alone, but his senses won’t tell him where --

Before he can reach her piercing scream, the lamp post next to him flickers on, illuminated in green. His heart stops, and he feels the bile rising up inside of him.

No, no, no, no— not him, he’s supposed to be dead- wait, no, he’s supposed to be in prison—

Peter watches in pure anguish as the snow picks up, dangerous icicles falling from the lamp post and sky pierce his skin and he steps forward behind the shadows of the moonlight and snow, towering over him in his old suit he thought was destroyed. Was evidence, locked away to never be touched again.

Except it flickers away, into a cloud of smoke.

Maybe he’s hallucinating because he’s sick? He’s tired?

He has only gotten eight hours of sleep in the last three days, but what drove him so mad he came out here to the snow , the blizzard that seems to never let up-- the one that Mr. Stark mentioned-- is sending a small snowstorm to the boroughs of New York. Must be due to Global Warming.

The hum of a drone is loud, careening and he ducks his head before it strikes him, it nearly catches him and his breath won’t come out past the burning and aching in his throat.

Honestly, Peter assumed he’d be dead by now, no one telling him a word to protect him. Or, would it protect him even further to tell the truth that he is hidden away, rotting in a cell, truly plotting against him like Foggy Nelson said not to worry too much about.

“If you wanna save your city, you’re gonna need to come with me,” the familiar voice announces into the middle of the night, pushing him past his threshold of sanity and sends a wracking shiver down his spine and arms.

“I’m not really here, no, where would the fun in that be?” he replies smugly, probably watching from around the corner while Peter frantically runs back to the snow cabin to secure his family. “I need you to find me.”

He can only think about MJ, if this is an illusion she must be safe. What if he’s truly lying, crawling out of a grave somewhere in Manhattan where he was buried. Forgotten about. Rotting. For the last few months, he’s been here. Around every corner, lingering, falling behind every alleyway light to stay hidden. Quentin Beck has been the one watching him, it probably isn’t paranoid tendencies.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, get back inside NOW!” May shouts from behind him, his neck twisting to catch sight of her. His hands shake while he fishes somewhere in his pockets for his phone, hoping it didn’t get buried in the snow where he fell.

He feels heavy, like there’s two tons weighing over him and pulling him down into the ground even further, the slush eating away at his boots.

“May! Get away!” Peter shouts, his voice too raspy to be understood. “Find MJ inside!”

“Aw, Peter. Don’t worry about them, they’ll be safe right here, in the warm cabin under their warm blankets. Let’s hope the fireplace doesn’t catch anything around it, though,” Beck chuckles. “I think that’d be even enough for you getting me killed.”

“Killed? ” he exasperatedly asks, navigating his way back to the cabin and freezing in the dark. “You’re still alive. All of those people you killed in Europe are not .”

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,” Beck says sharply, appearing right behind him. He can see him better this time, his hair is slightly grown out but gelled to the side. He’s wearing a black coat over this old shitty suit, completely concealed by his jacket. He clings to his helmet at his right side, Peter watches the inside fill up with snow.

Every miniscule detail, he can’t believe it. He can’t be here in front of him.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this. You know, I couldn’t wait any longer. You don’t deserve the title of Spider-Man, your big family. It was a big mistake letting them continue to believe Peter Parker is Spider-Man.”

“Because I will protect them. You can’t underestimate me, I got away from you last time. And now?” Peter steps towards Beck, going farther away from the snow cabin. “You can take me. Don’t you dare touch them.”

“Oh, I won’t,” Beck’s voice is layered in eagerness, like a child. “I’ll show you what I want and what I’m doing.

“And if you don’t? Millions are going to pay for what you did. You know, that Jester King, Tony Stark, he really played me when he played dead for months. He did. He takes my holographic system, I take it back from him through you. You try to get me murdered, now I take away what you love most.

“What I want?” he says, finger tapping on his chin in amusement. “That’s bringing you down along with everyone you love. Excuse me, I mean, after I bring down everyone you love.”

Beck signals a drone over to him, smiling pointedly and gleefully as he waves a projection over, projecting New York City in a small screen in between them. There’s barely any snow covering the city like the forecasts predicted, and he swallows hard for what’s about to happen.

If he was capable of all the infrastructure damage to Europe, each disaster caused by G-ddamn drones, he’s capable of bringing down a few boroughs in New York City.

He stares at Beck, refusing to look down at the projection in front of him. At this point, his clothes clings to him and if he isn’t hypothermic, he thinks he will be soon. This isn’t part of his illusion tech, no. This time it’s real.

“Come on, Pete!” Beck yells cheerfully, nudging his shoulder roughly to turn back to the drone. “Where’s the fun in it if you don’t get to see what’s gonna happen, huh?”

He calculates his options, watching from his peripheral the snow attack the city. Shouts are emitted from the drone. “At least it’s not like Europe! I have no problem using more of my illusion tech here, but I’ve got a show waiting for you in Manhattan.”

Peter stares hard at the screen, anger and malice replacing every other feeling he’s felt up to now. He thinks back to his illusions and what he knows , he’s been sitting on top of every secret about him, hoarding them, using them to manipulate them before and knowing his secrets work against him.

“Here, I’ll take you there through one of my drones. So you’ll know what it’ll feel like to be on 85th when I destroy it.”

Peter’s hidden in plain view under a fire escape, it’s 2AM in the city, but he can hear all the people that are outside. Dogs being walked late at night, late-night epiphanies happening on fire escapes in the light snow, taxi-drivers in the middle of their shifts, the nearby hospital emergency room full of trauma cases from car accidents from the slippery snow. It’s the quietest he’s heard in New York, and he’s looking around and making sure nobody’s lurking around any corners. He needs to give Beck what he wants, and get out of here to get to the real New York.

“Beck, NO!” he hears Ned scream from above him, and he runs from under the coverage of the fire escape and into the middle of the grimey alleyway to see Ned tethering on the edge of the 30 meter building. “You can’t do this, it’s not fair!”

Beck appears behind Ned, and he panics in search of his web shooter attachments and comes up short. He’s still in his soaked clothes from the snow cabin. “Peter! You’ve gotta help m—”

Peter screams Ned’s name, crawling up the building as far as he can before he can leap out to catch Ned. He misses, and Ned collapses to the ground.

An illusion, this isn’t real, none of this is real. It’s not real. Not real.

He gasps and tumbles onto the ground, landing back at the snow cabin.

“Let’s play another one, you haven’t seen the best part!”

He’s standing on a highrise building, in his Spider-Man suit, and he knows it’s still an illusion. The snow is falling even heavier than it did at the snow cabin, but it’s covering pedestrians walking around late at night or very early in the morning. Random people still out eating, teenagers skipping curfew, people leaving their office jobs far too late deemed acceptable

The snow covers the cars , and he can hear emergency coverage playing on radios and TV’s while the city falls into a panic over Beck’s illusions. The snow is it’s true amount, but he’s redirecting it everywhere through the stupid drones. He’s playing an illusion on his city.

He hears a child scream out for Spider-Man’s help, his daddy’s stuck under a car and he won’t stop bleeding. He’s trapped on this high-rise beam, paralyzed by something. Why can’t he just leap down, shoot his webs, he can see all the coverage he has to get to. Now.

He gasps when he feels two hands on his back, shoving him forward in anger. He sees Flash, balancing with him on this yellow beam full of venom as he says, “This is all your fucking fault!’

He listens, watching with his jaw dropped because he’s too stupid to do anything else. He doesn’t have anywhere to run, he brings his hands to his ears and shuts his eyes tight, he’s guessing what Beck’s putting illusion-Flash up to. This seems too simple, but he doesn’t want to play his chances. He wishes his city could see him right now, he’s their beacon, they aren’t collectively helpless.

“I’m done, Beck!” Peter shouts over the whistling wind and heavy snow. “I’m not running. You don’t have to do this.”

Darkness falls around him, it covers him and the snow, and Beck’s gone. His body’s equilibrium is off from being out in this avalanche, the snow now nearly up to his waist is pure agonizing wetness. There’s no more Manhattan skylines, or a cityscape at all, no more traumatized Flash, only the cabin with the porch light on.

Peter turns on his heels, running through the thick snow, holding onto himself, and starts racing in the snow. He keeps his eyes wide open despite the snow seeping into his eyes, he’s gone, the paranoia died down, the feeling of being watched simmered away like a light burning out. His legs feel like two tons of steel are weighing them down, and launches himself inside the door to find May, Ned, Flash, and to see if MJ is here.

He can almost sense where things are, he scoops a pile of snow off of his face and litters it to the ground, shrugging his jacket off which might be his worst decision of the night, his eyes feel blindfolded by the sleet.

“May!” Peter yells, holding back a sob sitting in the back of his throat, his voice quivering. “P-please. Please tell me you’re okay.”

He picks his lead feet up, waiting for an answer. He can sense bodies nearby, so they're here in the perimeter, but his senses have gone haywire after his encounter with the drone and Beck. Whatever frequency and illusions he uses, he feels less keyed now and less like he’s going to wake up from this nightmare.

He feels real.

“Baby?” he hears May whisper at the top of the stairs, now noticing the upstairs light flickered on and illuminating the living room and the stairs. He’s sisyphus climbing the stairs, his own body betraying him, and this is his punishment. Too weak to move right now, too weak to go hug May. To go tell his friends everything’s gonna be okay.

“It- it was him, May. I saw him,” Peter whispers, elation and adrenaline still coursing through his body. “He’s alive, I mean you already knew that but-- May, he was here. I have to go.”

“Peter,” May says carefully, lifting her arm that was protectively holding Ned back. He’s crying in a steady stream watching them at the top of the stairs from the bottom, he’s his own impossible boulder. He can’t reach them. He can’t get to the top.

She’s careful in her tone. “Why did you go outside? What did you see?”

“May, you have to believe me. I need to go to Manhattan— I have to send Mr. Stark a message and you-- you guys need protection,” he rambles breathlessly, half of his words ununciated, “I can’t let you guys die.”

“Okay, Peter,” May confirms, and he’s never seen her look so sad. She’s covered in moonlight, she’s backlit by the upstairs light, but he can’t see her eyes clearly like he usually can. And, oh fuck, he thought this was real— “Name five things you can see right now. Just five.”

“I— May, no, I need your car keys. I need my suit,” he says, watching his friends faces fall and hears their heartbeats pick up. “And MJ, she’s okay? She was screaming, and--”

May sighs, resigning, and takes a few steps down the stairs to meet his eyes. “Baby, are you having an episode?”

“May, no!—“

“I can help. We can all help. Nobody’s judging you, I know you didn’t find the best coping mechanisms, but—“

“Call Tony. Please. For me.”

“Okay,” May says, running a hand through his soaked curls and he feels her shaking movements, and he gently catches her hand.

“I’m so sorry, I brought this here.” He glances up at his friends, watching their own storms on their own faces, the aching, the fear caused by him. Ned’s quietly crying now, keeping his face as stoic as he can.

“Go, Peter. I’ll set security up around the perimeter,” Ned whispers bravely, swallowing back tears. “Just.. Can you tell us what you saw outside?”

Peter’s mind instantly flashes back to Ned’s body on the pavement in the illusion, and swallows the bile back down but allows more tears to fall. “I— He made an illusion about MJ. About all of you. Everyone was inside except for her. He’s in New York. Just like Foggy said.”

He turns outside to face outside, and it’s nearly morning now. The sun hides far on the low horizon, not daring to rise yet but is still covered by snowfall.

May finally relented, grabbing her cellphone to get in touch with Mr. Stark and Nelson and Murdock. It was Claire who answered first, insisting she talk to Peter. Her worries over the phone brought a wave of nausea over him, she described New York right now. There’s hail and snow slides and blizzards which should be impossible in their terrain. Peter tore his clothes off and put his suit on, feeling idiotic for wearing a jacket over his spider suit. Ned sets up his own perimeter check, signaling and coding spider-drones to confirm the validity of Beck’s own drones and keep an eye out for unwanted visitors.

He web swings 100,000 meters back to the city, internally thanking May for convincing Mr. Stark to only send them into upstate New York, not too far out into the mountains and terrain.

For once, the Parker Luck might be working on his side once he thwips off of the Statue of Liberty and soars through air with his webs and wings, back out towards the nearest island’s edge. He promises himself to come out here more often, especially in the snow. Whatever New York borough Beck is in, he isn’t nearby Ellis island, and his senses continue to buzz.

New York’s loveable grizzled seen-too-much detective is back in his home city, and he web-swings across vast swaths of water into his city through the heavy snow.

Beck lied to him. He had trusted him. He destroyed his image, causing him to flee from his real life for months . He told him he was a disappointment, and his goodness was a weakness. He watches teenagers play in Washington Square Park, tourists crawling to the nearest safe spots, and ice skaters somehow skating this late at night/early in the morning.

He swings off of the nearest building, listening out for an intel on Beck and he races through Manhattan. It’s an obstacle course for Beck, but not for Peter.

He hears a nearby construction site and a low groaning, something not good. If he reaches these construction sites with free equipment lying around for him to use, he needs to stop him in time before doing anything too drastic. He’s hoping his setup is randomized drones, secured away from the population like in the terminal he last fought him in.

But he knows this is highly unlikely.

Spider-Man finds Beck easily, scanning the construction site for any heat signatures, easily finding him and the drones. How he wanted to be found, near the heart of Manhattan.

“I must be honest, I am so glad to see you again, Petey,” Beck says, voice distorted and warped while he slowly walks further into the construction site, mapping each drop to the floor below or opening above, and each window covered in tarp. “My abilities, my talent, they can’t be stolen from me again.”

Peter turns, scanning via his suit for any signs of Beck, but his ocular scans come back distorted and something lands in front of him, his senses screaming at him at the last possible second and he stumbles into the ground.

Beck’s voice disappears further into the building, and he tries to follow it. He veers left, in a crouch and stumbles into storage bins. “I’ve been waiting for this moment. Admittedly, not for too long, but long enough.”

Peter’s warped back into the city, green gases swirling in the air and black fog consuming the city. No matter how hard it is to stay grounded, he stumbles into the nearest buildings, cars, and people.

“It’s not real,” he whispers to himself, not quite believing it.

“It’s going to be a shame when many people here will have to die, with Spider-Man buried in the snow,” his voice rings to his right, then above him. He sees Beck walking in the shadows of the plot, he follows as closely behind as he can.

Beck disappears above him, and he launches webs onto the nearest pillar, beaming up to the next floor. He leads himself through a new haze of fog, it spans wide and far and out into the real city where real residents live. He runs down a narrow hall, turning a corner into a wider area and sees Beck leading himself outside. He’s a few stories up, and can see Beck standing one story up from the ground.

“Stark wanted to use me. He did use me. Now, your precious lawyers want to destroy my life,” Beck sounds echoey, and it’s freaking him out, because how far away is everybody? Does he need to contact anyone else, like the PD?

“And where were you, Peter?” Beck asks, voice rising and thunderous, “ Living lavishly, spoiled, wealthily like a trust fund kid.”

Spider-Man jumps another floor down, sending another array of webs around the pillars of the building. He placed webbing on all three floors, following Beck’s path back down into the city where the lights will go dark.

“You knew what you were in for, kid, yet you fled,” Beck says bitterly, and he watches the green mist form back around him in his signature suit and helmet. “You couldn’t save yourself, you’re a cancer spreading in this city.”

“You will be exiled for what you did to me, and there will be no return back this time. You will have nobody to save you from your own track record.”

He internally yells, finding another structure to throw his webs. He needs a netting for when the infrastructure falls, undoing Mysterio’s work.

It’s dark, snow flurries escape from outside the plot, and Peter stills once he sees a pile of dead bodies in front of him. He can’t see his city like this, he refuses to get to this aftermath. He turns and runs to a quick stop in front of Beck on the walkway outside.

“I will bring this entire city down, do NOT underestimate me!” Mysterio shouts into the sky, the snow falling heavier into the city illuminated by the glow of the pink sunrise. “Just watch me do it.”

“I won’t let you!” Spider-Man yells, attacking the first drone Mysterio sets in front of him. He casts his webs onto it, launching it into Mysterio. He hears yelps from below, hoping everyone takes the hint and leaves, no matter their commute.

“I said I WILL destroy your city,” Mysterio outcries, sending a thunderous wave of force into the ground, shaking the perimeter and the building’s core.

“ Uh-oh, ” he panics, flipping off the ground and avoiding the skittering and electrical impulses he sends waves of. He’s electrocuted, and he scrambles back far, watching big chunks of cement fall off of each floor's foundation, and he gasps as he tries to catch each piece before it lands onto the street below.

They’re on top of the high rise now, the top of U.N. headquarters, right at the edge. He gasps, watching the plot they were just in a few moments ago crumble to the ground. The screams from the street below ache his bones, and he’s too far away, no—

He’s right inside, but he can’t fucking see where he is, if he walks forward he’ll fall off the building, he’s sure of it. There aren’t any grips for his webs, and he shakes along with the front. There’s more cold wind, sending chills throughout his body. He sees May holding onto the edge of the building, he recognizes her rings. Her fingers desperately cling for life, her blood curdling screams rush into his ears. Everything below them is so small, and he steps closer to the edge of the building where the snow drifts down below them.

This isn’t real.

Beck is playing him, again, and he’s somehow winning right now. He sucks a breath in through his nose, shuts his eyes, and remembers the fate of New York is in his hands. It’s out of Tony’s, out of the PD’s, out of everyone else’s hands but his. It’s his uphill battle, and he hopes the boulder doesn’t fall over the edge.

With his eyes squeezed shut, he aims his arms nefariously to catch each boulder, hears each gust of wind and each terrifying pull of gravity giving the boulder more energy, and he strikes each boulder to stop from collapsing the building.

Mysterio’s making him vulnerable again, and the curtain’s close in front of him. He sprints into the dark before anything can appear, thwipping his webs out into the Manhattan buildings now that the construction site is taken care of.

He listens out for Beck, listening to the buzzing carrying him away in real life, making the city more vulnerable the further he goes.

May is counting on him. She was certain he was having a paranoid episode, and it probably contributed to what he saw, but they’re counting on him. The real Mysterio is right here, heart drumming wildly from his adrenaline. He has no room for error again/

He ignores an incoming phone call from Matt in his mask, catching up to Mysterio transporting to below the Chrysler building. He thrusts his entire body into the velocity of his webs, falling dangerously slow to the ground and ascends straight into the heavy snow.

Spider-Man catches up to Beck on a new rooftop, taking a giant leap off of the Chrysler building to the supporting one below. He glides, landing on the rooftop. He’ll never be tired of the feeling of falling, the snow emulating the act even more and he moves faster.

He runs into him from above, tackling Mysterio to the ground.

Mysterio’s upgraded tech clatters across the ground, and the storm does not clear at all. None of the hail stops, the buildings shake in anticipation for a disastrous fall. Peter sees stars when he swings his arm back, landing a punch on him and immediately getting striked in the head by a drone.

Beck grabs Peter by the neck, using his size on him to slam his head back into the brick wall of the building. He kicks himself off the wall, tackling him and hits him. He strikes, producing red, blue, and purple contusions that the snow can’t cover now. He attempts to yank his helmet off to strike more skin, avoiding drone strikes surrounding him.

“She’s ready!” Mysterio shouts, shoving Spider-Man off and he’s too frozen to strike any of the drones now in formation, in an arrow.

Like a deck of cards shuffling, he watches a new scene in front of him, where his webbing failed and crushed a few dozen meters of buildings crushed under rubble, dust and snow swirling in the sky while the city bursts into haunting tears.

Spider-Man quickly recovers, shaking under his webbing that attaches to the drones, flying at full force. He tries to web them all up, but they relentlessly demolish and set flame to each high-rise nearby. He watches the city crumble, the tarmac of the streets withering under destruction, and he watches helpless people fall into these abysses along with cars and tons of snow, and he tugs on his webs.

“S..See, I was ri—ght, I will kill everyone you love— we will be back.”

He stops one drone, but halts to a stop when the drones crash into another building. He hooks Beck’s suit into a drone, finally having the upperhand and more leverage on the older man. He uses his free hand to grab the helmet, slamming his face into the drone repeatedly, watching the glass break and shatter, cutting him up.

Peter continues to land blows to the face, red blooming and turning to blues and purples around his face. His nose is bloodied, his mouth is ripped apart, and glass shards cut him further. He hopes his head slumps forward, watching an avalanche in the distance makes it way towards fucking Manhattan. His own chest flickers in pain, and he looks down to see the suit torn in half at his chest to reveal a pool of blood thickening. He checks to see if Beck is unconscious, they can hardly hold onto the crashing drones in flight.

He presses the controls, any, hoping to override his coding and deactivate them. This is all too familiar, he must be behind him, waiting. He’s hauled through the sky, grazed against each apartment complex and school and office buildings. He’s woozy, spinning in the air at a high velocity and they begin to crash head-on into FEAST, and his heart lurches.

He sees black.

He’s buried deep in the snow, searching for a pocket of air to breathe through and begin digging from. He can’t feel his hands, but he blindly flops around, trying his hardest to hold his screaming back and failing. His suit is soaked through, offline, and the seams tore and burned his skin with pure frozen snow.

He gasped, not remembering if Matt called back or not, did he ever answer the call? Was the call an illusion? He hears more blood curdling screams surrounding him, and this is real. Not an illusion. Real, real, or.. Fake?

He screams into the dark, the irony of the white-reflecing snow drenching him in blackness. Pounding fear in his body, his veins giving up on him, his cells killing him. Frozen. Only fear courses through each neuron and each cell.

Not knowing if Beck destroyed his city, his family—

He needs out, maybe this is an illusion. Is he back to a few months ago, not believing anything is real? He didn’t see Beck, but he heard him, he should be dead from those drones.

He stares into the finally relenting sky, wondering if he escaped his sisyphus destiny. His vision falls into another illusion, everything’s black, but no this is real, he’s real. He succumbs to exhaustion instead.

His body feels too heavy, he slumps down weakly and lies on his left side.

“I just said, found him outside of FEAST--”

“And what the hell were you doing there?--”

“Does it matter? I called him, he ignored me, and we knew the consequences when we agreed to take on this case--”

“Matt, it’s alright. Foggy, take a breath. You both handled it well.”

He’s in a car. The low hum soothes his aching body and it smells like clorox and blood in here.

“He lost a lot of blood on the scene, he’s hypothermic, for hell’s sake! Do not antagonize me right now.--”

“—We’re not!—“

“He’s a kid. He doesn’t deserve this. Matt, this is extraordinarily worse than when I found you half dead on your couch, already writing your eulogy because I didn’t think I could save you. You were doing it all alone, and I—“

He hears cloth moving around, probably a hand rubbing their back.

“We have it handled.”

“What do you mean handled?! You mean a just as self-sacrificial vigilante clad in red that’s a total maniac? Possible psychopath mercenary? With pool in their name?!”

“Foggy, calm down before your artery bursts.”

Pans clattering and humans talking around him awoke him, and he could’ve sworn he was just at Nelson and Murdock’s law firm in search of a first-aid kit. The talking is what he becomes most aware of when he returns slowly to consciousness, able to feel his limbs.

“Hmfh,” he hums, burying himself further into the warmer clothing he’s wearing and the familiar Hello Kitty blanket a 6 year old he knows owns. The pillows feel like homes, though.

“Welcome back, walking dead,” Tony greets, waving someone over from beside him. He’s walking in from around the corner where the kitchen is, a familiar smell of his favorite chocolate babka simmering through the air. Tony sits down beside him, feeling the couch cushion sink down. He runs a hand through his hair, squeezing his shoulder and sighing. Peter props himself up on one elbow, his smile returning when he sees May run into the room and tackle him into the couch cushions with a hug.

“I’m so sorry for not believing you, honey,” May tears up, pulling back to take a closer look at him. He’s hyper aware of his surroundings, his memories slowly fade back in. He sees the confusion run across her face, and she makes no move to bring it up. “You did so good.”

The next few days result in the same ways. He’s bedbound for now, receiving updates by his own lawyers that the city isn’t suing him for damages this time and that local vigilantes and authorities are cleaning up the city. He was an open book to his family and friends, splayed out for all of them to pick, poke, and prod at.

Even with the best intentions, they were overbearing.

He spent most of his newfound freetime continuing his part-time jobs. His photography job at the Daily Bugle is allowing him, graciously, to write articles in the meantime he’s out of photo-commission. He picked up writing articles for Nelson and Murdock, who were still a mess.

He and May both had many emotions over this, what this meant for his recovery, and how he won’t put his recovery on the back-burner.

They all avoid talking about him. Where he is, what happened. News articles never seem to reach him.

Closer to Christmas during the time his friends celebrated, he can’t help but feel isolated and the paranoia coils through him once again. He needs to begin recovery slowly, because he can’t handle being separated from Tony, Pepper, and Morgan currently, and especially May when she leaves for work or to pick up groceries.

Despite receiving a scholarship to MIT, all of his trauma probably counts out any chance of college anytime soon. He doubts he can go back to being a normal person, preparing every possible scenario for when he returns, and he feels like begging on his knees for help. He and May pass more time saving up for tuition money, just in case.

He’s safe now. He’s home. He waits for the other shoe to drop. For the boulder to fall off the top of the cliff.

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