#hell even Mj was around more than peter

[bigender-spider]

I know peters whole deal with being Spider-Man is stuff is that he can't save everyone and whatever but , Harrys demise could have been pretty easily avoided had peter actually spoken to him-

They always bring up uncle Ben and even Gwen when talking about responsibility but peter didn't actually help harry until it was a little too late . Which bothers me sm because he cared about harry alot so wtf

[twilightkitkat]

Hear me out y'all, I've been talking about multiverse shenanigans lately so what if Wade literally became Spiderman?

The TVA sent Wade on a mission to protect the anchor being of another universe, Spiderman. Except... there was a small hiccup. Wade got there right as Spiderman died. He was officially brain-dead, even if his blood was still circulating.

So, naturally, the TVA employee in charge of this universe panicked and fucked things up further. By putting Wade's conscience into Spiderman. Hooray!!

Now time to undo this shit and get back to his universe. Except... that doesn't happen. Because the portal closes and he's stuck here, with his own fucking vegetative state body. While he's in the body of Spiderman. Shit.

Fuck the TVA. And their shitty employees lie to cover their own asses and hide the fact that Wade just replaced the anchor being of another universe.

And Wade... has to pretend to be him, for better or worse. Because the mission was to get this timeline roughly where the Sacred Timeline left off. Or it'd collapse. With him in it.

(Which he thought he could do by saving Spiderman and letting him make the same decisions as he did originally, but noooooo. Now he has to imitate Peter and remember what the hell he did in the Sacred Timeline. Thank God for the fourth wall, because Wade does not share the same decision-making process as this guy.)

And Wade manages. Poorly. Especially when he has to hide his own body in the closet, which is miraculously still breathing.

But he tries! He attends high school for the first time in forever (yikes) and somehow manages to not flunk out, he acclimates himself to Peter's powers, goes web-slinging (with a much better costume, thank you), and talks to all of the right people. He manages all of Peter's tasks while trying not to focus on how much he misses his home and how he wishes Logan were here.

But it's insanely awkward. Especially when the people around him notice how weird he's been acting. Namely Peter's best friend and aunt. (And that's a whole other can of worms that Wade's trying his best to avoid.)

He nearly fucking stabs Flash with his pencil when he made fun of him, only held back by Ned tugging at his arm and asking what was wrong. (He does, however, steal his clothes after gym. Payback.) And he kind of forgets to get with MJ, oopsies! Not his type. (Especially with the whole teenager thing. And the fact that he's already kind of in love with someone. Who he misses incredibly and sometimes wonders if they'll come for him...)

He manages to meet Tony Stark around the same time as Peter and wow this is awkward. Because Wade knows what the Accords are and quite frankly, is very vehemently against them. But he grumbles and reluctantly goes with him. And manages to do a lot more damage than the original Spiderman, huh. Guess his years of experience stacked up well against a literal teenager.

His relationship with Tony would be especially interesting. Because in the original timeline, it was almost paternal. But Wade is not shopping for father figures, especially ones who are around his age and not nearly as experienced, so he manages to laugh it off. (Even if it does feel nice, privately, to be cared for.)

Everything comes to a head when Wade's staring blankly at the board in class, trying to will himself to focus. Until the teacher says a new student is coming in. Wade's been here for a few years now and he's now 18 and it's his senior year. (...It's weird to think he'd actually go to college. And it won't even fucking transfer back home, so it's all for nothing.) Point is, nobody transfers senior year.

So he looks up with vague curiosity to see a younger version of Logan.

What the fuck.

He didn't keep incredibly close tabs on the X-men of this universe (partially out of respect, partially out of fear) but he knew that they were all alive. They were more adamant about wearing masks and "protecting their identity" in this world so there wasn't much information. But apparently, Logan was just as young-looking as in the first X-men movie. Hugh Jackman really was fine, back then.

But what the hell was Logan doing in high school? Even in another universe, it's a central plot point that he's over 200 years old. He just looks young. (Not that Wade is much better, sporting the middle-aged man-turned-teenager look.)

Until Logan's eyes fix on him. He was looking at him with very intense emotion in his eyes, something Wade couldn't exactly name.

Not until he's shoved up against the locker in some shitty corner, claws pressed against his neck as Logan snarls at him and asks where the fuck was Wade and what did he do with him.

And Wade doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. Because, on one hand, this is objectively hilarious and he's really happy to see his Logan had somehow possessed this one. But on the other hand, he kind of isn't immortal right now and he doesn't want to test his luck.

So he manages to spit out the story. And Logan stares at him with shock and then trepidation and then genuine relief and suddenly he's hugging him and clinging to him and burying his face in his neck and oh shit is he crying?

They stay there even as the next bell rings, dropping to the floor and just sitting together.

All goes well until Ned comes looking and finds Wade with Logan leaning against him, head on his shoulder, and holding his hand. And now he has to explain to his aunt, to his best friend, and to his mentor who the fuck Logan was and why he's following him everywhere now. ("Don't worry! Him and I go wayyyyy back, he's been my online friend for years. He just transferred here recently, sorry I forgot to say haha...")

And then it just devolves into everyone being vaguely shocked as Logan and Wade act super affectionate while trying to figure out how the hell to escape the timeline. Not that Wade doesn't appreciate not being in pain constantly, but he kinda has a life back there. And yeah, these people are attached to him (and he's started to care too) but they don't really know him. They just know he suddenly became a master in fighting and insanely competent (and kind of fucking crazy) one night after getting a concussion. Hell, Mr. Stark only met him in the suit for the first half of their relationship because Wade was wayyy better at keeping his identity a secret than Peter.

It'd just be interesting to see how canon would diverge and how the characters would react to Logan suddenly coming in and insisting on being a fucking guard dog at all times. Everyone is vaguely concerned and thinks that "Peter" is in a toxic relationship where the other party is demanding until they see how reciprocal it is. (And what the hell?) And how they seem to get each other and make odd references and somehow share the same edgy humor brand.

[rodolfoparras]

Pillow talk

Pairing: FTM! Peter B. Parker x Top Male Reader

Synopsis: In which Peter, a married man, gets off to the thought of being with someone other than his spouse

Content tags: 18+, MINORS DNI, emotional infidelity, cheating kink, pillow humping, masturbation, oral sex, Peter has a size kink, Peter being a bit of a pervert

A/n: as always pls excuse any mistakes I tried a new writing style here, also if you want you can listen to More Than Friends by Isabel LaRosa while reading this since it’s heavily inspired by it!

A tired sigh escapes Peter’s lips as his bones bleed into the sheets. The window’s cracked ajar, allowing cold autumn air to mingle with the smell of MJ’s perfume that’s lingering around in the room.

He’s stripped down to nothing but his tattered pink robe, searing skin exposed to the chilly sensation emitting from his wedding ring as it trails along the length of his body.

For the first time in a while Peter’s gotten some time alone.

MJ has taken Mayday for the day and left so that Peter could have the house to himself, claiming he’d been pent up for a while and supposedly needed a break.

Peter hadn’t argued against it but had instead taken the offer with grace since it’s true that he has been feeling pent up but not for the reason MJ thinks. Peter’s sure that if she knew the reason behind his recent behaviors she wouldn’t be so willing to help him.

For the last couple of weeks Peter’s been plagued with the realization that he didn’t hate his neighbor, not his next door neighbor because that man is a menace and Peter’s pretty sure the hate’s mutual.

Instead he’s come to the realization that he didn’t hate his neighbor on the floor below him, that neighbor being you.

At first he was sure that he hated you since you made his spider senses tingle, well at least that’s what he thought it was.

He’d first met you at a neighborhood block party. You had recently moved in or so he had heard and were more than eager to get acquainted with the neighbors for whatever reason.

You were lounging around in a lawn chair when he had first arrived with MJ and Mayday.

The poor thing threatened to give out under your weight but you paid it no mind as you entertained a conversation with a neighbor and nourished a beer in your hand.

When you rose to greet him, Peter noticed that you were a whole head taller than him so it was no wonder that you made his spider senses tingle.

He tried his best to ignore you but even when he couldn’t see you, he could smell you since you wore this stupid cologne that smelled stronger than anything MJ’s ever worn before and because of that he could always tell when you were lingering around.

If he thought that smelling and seeing you was bad then touching you was something else.

He’d purposely opted out of a handshake when you first greeted each other but that didn’t save his spider sense from going into overdrive after having your knees knock together while you were sat at the same table or having your elbows brush against each other while scooping up leftovers.

However even though you made his spider sense go off, Peter had quickly realized that you weren’t a threat, at least not a dangerous one.

You were friendly and always made sure to spark up a conversation with him, even when you'd be in a rush to something.

You’d go out your way to bring him any of his mail or packages that happened to be misplaced.

Hell you'd even baby sat Mayday a handful of times so it was safe to say you weren’t a threat. But for whatever reason Peter couldn’t seem to get you out of his head.

Especially after hearing your ever so polite voice protruding through his thin bedroom walls, your dirty words squeezing between his and Mj’s hushed conversations. Or seeing the way you basically engulfed whoever was in your arms but unlike the lawn chair they seemed to thrive from being in your embrace. And escaping the smell of your cologne turned out to be a hard feat since every other day someone would be prancing around in one of your shirts dozed in the smell of it.

He doesn’t even remember when he started making sure that he’d be the one to pick Mayday up from your house, just to see whatever lounge wear you’d be prancing around in that day and the bit of skin that always seemed to show through it.

He doesn’t remember when he started hoping that the mailman would misplace yet another letter or package just so that he could feel your calloused fingertips brushing against his as you handed him something.

He doesn’t even remember when he started biting his tongue just so he wouldn’t ask you who he had seen standing outside your door the previous night.

He shouldn’t be feeling like this. He has MJ and he has Mayday and as far as he knows he’s happy. He’s just pent up, like MJ had said.

It’s not like Peter and MJ don’t have sex. It’s just that she doesn’t do it for him, at least not anymore.

Every time they get intimate he’d have to fake an orgasm or jerk off after she’d gone to bed. Lately he’s even had to pretend to be asleep every time she tried to initiate something because he simply wasn’t up for it.

So he’d find other ways to entertain himself and one of the ways being with inappropriate thoughts of his neighbor.

And things kind of escalate from there not in the literal sense since you’re so fucking polite, wont even look at him twice, keeping a respectful distance to a man who has a kid and a wife.

But God Peter wishes that you did, so much so he imagines you pinning him to the bed, hip to hip, chest to chest, those strong arms and thighs caging him into the mattress

The tattered robe wrapped around his frame doesn’t compare to the way your body would feel on top of his. But he keeps it on anyway, closes his eyes and pretends that the hand leisurely dragging across his limbs is your body pushing down onto his.

He imagines the way your lips would slot together, hot breath washing over his cheek as you whisper dirty words to him.

A thumb finds his lips, teasingly tugging and taunting at the bottom lip. It feels nothing like your calloused fingertips but his tongue peaks past his lips, tasting the salty skin before sinking down on it.

He imagines how you’d tease and taunt him in that polite voice of yours that managed to whisper such dirty words, how you’d mock him for wanting to be fucked like a bitch in heat despite the wedding band digging into his skin, maybe you’d force him to say it just so that he hears it from his own lips or so that the whole neighborhood can hear how desperate he is.

He imagines you straddling his waist grinding into him while wearing nothing but your boxers, teasing him to point where he’s soaking through his own pair of underwear.

A hand slides down his chest, blunt nails dragging down his happy trail, only to stop at the fringe of curls atop of his cunt, tugging and taunting til he’s all worked up.

He imagines your long fingers thrusting into him , or making him finger himself while wearing his wedding band, prepping himself to be fucked by someone other than his spouse.

And God he’s already so wet, fingers easily coating in his arousal as he trails them up his cunt, and in that very moment he can't help but think how MJ never gets him like this.

But his fingers are not enough- this little fantasy of his is not enough but you’re too good to do anything about it so he rolls onto his stomach before propping the pillow between his legs, pretending it’s your face.

He imagines the bed creaking under your shared weight, and the way the smell of your cologne would engulf his senses. He imagines the way your calloused fingertips would sink into the supple skin of his thighs and the way your ever so polite voice would sound as you command him to properly sit down.

He starts moving slowly, rolling his hips cautiously, imagining the way your tongue would experimentally delve through his folds.

The pillow slides in between his folds, coarse fabric creating a steady pressure onto his engorged numb, not enough to overwhelm his senses but enough to send jolts of pleasure coursing through his body every time he moves his hips.

He imagines you wanting to take your time with him wanting to taste him, tongue licking a strip along his cunt up to his puffy clit where you’d continue to tease him until he’s begging and urging you to hurry before someone can find the two of you like this.

But you wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t care if anyone were to find you like this, hand slapping his ass in warning before you continued to do as you pleased.

His hand cups the globe of his cheek, much like the way you’d do it if you were with him, except his fingers feel nothing like yours. But the cold sensation from his ring as it slaps his searing skin sends sparks of pleasure coursing through his entire body and for one second it almost feels like you’re actually there with him.

The coarse fabric of the pillow case reminds him so much of your stubble and it’s so wrong but feels so right - the thought of being fucked by someone other than his wife as huffs and pants escape his lips, hips moving faster as he wanders back to his fantasy.

He imagines you having him so worked up to the point where Peter’s long forgotten about the fact that someone can just walk in on you two because the bed’s creaking and he’s loudly begging and pleading for you to stop teasing.

Eventually you'd take pity on him, showing him mercy by properly latching onto his puffy clit, eagerly suckling on it before tonguing his hole.

He adjusts his hips, and the angle in which the pillow hits his clit changes slightly, and intensifies the sensation along with it.

“Oh- oh fuck!” He squeals out, toes curling as he throws his head back.

He imagines the way you’d easily have him teetering on the edge of his release with Peter begging and pleading for you to let him finish.

He can almost taste it, can hear the Squelching sounds mingling with the sound of needy noises escaping his lips. He can even smell his arousal: strong and heady, knowing he’s probably stained the pillow under him and will need to wash it before MJ comes back but for now he can’t find it in himself to care.

He’s so close, needs just a bit more -and that’s when he picks up on the sound of your footsteps walking up the stairs, smells the scent of your cologne bleeding into the air.

You must be on your way to his apartment to bring yet another misplaced package.

And Peter knows it’s wrong but it feels so right, feels himself tip over the edge as you read what’s written on the parcel, out loud

“To Peter B. Parker, please handle with care”

[dreamingofbucky]

THE REPORT

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!F!Reader (one shot)

summary: You failed to report to Miguel after a mission and he makes it a living hell for you. to teach you a lesson, he makes you meet him after everyone's gone home and has a special punishment just for you.

tags/content warnings: slow burn til it isn't, grumpy!miguel, cockwarming like that's the whole plot, consensual smut. p in v. fangs. praise kink, size kink. age gap (reader is 20, mig is almost 30 idk). reader is a sister figure to gwen.

Word Count: 6.1k

author’s note: not beta read. this was so fun to write! hope you enjoy <3

-

Living in Spider Society was chaotic, but you loved it. You enjoyed it so much, but there were times you liked to visit other universes and even your own. You haven’t been back to your own universe in months due to work though. 

You’ve been to Gwen and Hobie’s ones countless times, even stayed multiple nights. Albeit you being a few years older than them, about to turn 21, they were your closest friends in Spider Society. They got your humor, they understood your mess, and they’d fight for you. 

With Jessica Drew being older and busy with her own relationship, and then Peter B Parker with MJ and Mayday, you were glad you had these Spiderteens to hang with. You felt like an older sister to them sometimes which helped with the whole identity crisis you had the first month moving to Earth-928 and feeling so alone. 

And then there was Miguel. He was technically your boss and he was so cold, so standoffish toward you. Even after he recruited you, you’ve seen him less and less around missions unless you had to go to his office to report any difficulties with anomalies. You felt miniscule under his gaze most times. But then… even as much as you hated to admit how he made you feel though at random times when you felt his gaze linger a little longer than normal. 

It’s probably been a week since the last time you had to go up to his office to relay a report, yet the grumpy man’s eyes were everywhere in Earth-928. You felt his eyes everywhere. Your spider senses went haywire whenever you felt him near. But it was more than just a tingle to you. It was a strange feeling you couldn’t pin down. But you brushed it off anytime that specific feeling came around. 

You did have some hard times though in this new universe you called home. You had your own Peter back in your own universe until he passed. It was your canon event, after all. Something you still hated thinking about. 

It was hard at first acclimating to Spider Society seeing so many Peter Parkers. Yours wasn’t Spider-Man, since you were the one in your universe, but the name was hard to adjust to hearing all the time, every day at work. That was the one thing you and Gwen had in common which was why you both were glued to the hip most of the time like real sisters. 

Some might say it’s just trauma bonding, but you did ultimately feel like Gwen was like a younger sibling to you at this point. And no one really understood the hard adjustment to Spider Society like she did. It was comforting. 

“You’re thinking again,” Gwen says, pulling you out of your thoughts. Her pink-blonde hair fell in front of her face as she busied herself with a journal. She liked to journal a lot more recently ever since she’s been spending more time with Miles. 

You remembered her mentioning when she saw him after a year apart that she found his own journal of doodles. It was so obvious the crush she had on him, but you didn’t push or ask any questions. 

A smile comes to your face as you see her doodling nonsense. You couldn’t admit that she wasn’t the best artist, but you let her have her vice whenever Miles was busy and off on different missions or even back in his universe to finish school. His parents still didn’t know he was Spider-Man, so he wasn’t around Spider Society as often as Gwen would like. 

“No,” you counter. “Just letting my mind rest. Had a long week.” 

Gwen’s bright eyes drifted up from the journal before a smile etched on her face. “Did you send your latest report to Miguel yet?” 

Your spine stiffened at the sound of his name. “No, why? Was I supposed to? I thought Hobie was in charge of that this week?” 

Sometimes Gwen, Hobie, and you would rock-paper-scissors whoever did the reports for the week. This week was supposed to be Hobie’s. 

Gwen shakes her head. “No, I clearly remember Hobie mentioning it’d be you. He’s not even around today.” 

“Oh,” you plainly stated. She was right, he wasn’t in this universe today. Had some protest to join back in his own universe. He invited you and Gwen, but you both wanted to be around in case you were needed. You urged Gwen to even spend the day with Miles, but he apparently had something to do with his parents. 

Gwen whistles. “Miguel is gonna be looking for you then.”

Your eyes widened at that. “Fuck, no he can’t. I didn’t even prepare anything! We went two days ago, how am I supposed to remember each detail of what we did? Fuck, I’m going to find Hobie and–” 

“Chill!” Gwen laughs. “Just go see him and let him know. Hey, maybe bringing an empanada will lessen the blow.” 

You rolled your eyes at that before standing up. The room you both were in was quiet and not many spider-people were around. Gwen and you liked to come in here to either debrief, talk about Miles, or just sit in silence while she doodled and you thought. 

You cherished her, you cherished every one of your spider friends. Well, except now with Hobie. Because now you’re for sure going to get a scolding from the boss man. 

“Good luck,” Gwen sing-songed as you shook your head and laughed. But inside you were dying, your heart was starting to race as you left the room. You made your way through the building until you got to the elevator. The ride up was short and you even forgot the empanada. 

Your fingers laced together at the front as the doors opened and you walked on the floor where his office was. It was unusually quiet. And darker than normal.

There wasn’t any big anomaly that had to be contained today or else you’d know. So where was everyone?

By the time you reached his office, you craned your neck up to see his platform high up and he was there standing, staring at a screen. He hadn’t noticed you yet, due to his inability to have spider senses, and you take your time looking at him. 

His broad shoulders were facing you and you noticed his hands on his slim waist. You lick your lips at the sight. It wasn’t something you were proud of. 

Call it hormones. You closed yourself off to any romantic flings or relationships the moment you moved here, but you still had those urges. 

And they so happened to heighten whenever you were around the one person you shouldn’t have those urges around. Your attraction to your boss wasn’t something you expected, especially with him being a few years older than you… okay, he was definitely older. He never mentioned his age, but you overhead he was probably closer to 30. Which made him almost a decade older than you. 

Your thoughts drift to a week ago when you saw him in passing. Spider-Woman was briefing you for a mission when he caught on to the conversation and halted his steps. He interrupted that conversation to scold you, letting Jess know that you wouldn’t be joining her that day. 

You didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like the anomaly wasn’t someone you couldn’t handle. But you had to follow his orders and ultimately stayed back while he and the other Spiders went. Even Gwen and Hobie went. 

That was a low blow on Miguel’s part. You’d at least thought he’d make the non-teens go on a mission together. You can’t remember the last time you went on a mission where Miguel was present. It felt like some days he didn’t even want you around. 

As you think about Miguel, you hear shuffling up above you and you blink, brushing away the thoughts and focusing on what you had to do. 

You shoot out a web to his platform and bring yourself up, landing on your feet. He finally turns at the noise and gives you a side-eye. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks. 

Your fingers find each other again as you fumble for a response. Here goes. “I-I had that report to tell you about. I thought Hobie was going to give it, sorry for the delay.” 

His shoulders rise and fall with each breath before he turns around. His hand goes in the air behind him, waving off the screens he was just looking at. You caught a glimpse of another universe and Spider people shooting webs. 

He had an eye on everything. 

“That was supposed to be given directly after you returned from it,” he scoffs. He takes a step toward you and you try to hold your ground. Your breathing increases and his lips twitch. 

“I know! Just a simple miscommunication, that’s all,” you try to laugh it off, but his stern face is anything but finding it funny. 

“Do you know what I think?” He simply asks. The hairs on your arms stand as you look at him. His eyes smooth over your face, looking all over. They stop for a brief moment a little lower, on your lips, for more than a second. 

“What do you think?” You ask breathlessly. 

He takes another step closer, now inches away. He’s so tall compared to you, he’s basically caging you in at this moment without even knowing. You gulp. 

“You’re supposed to be an example to them.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me,” he grimaces. “You’re older than them, yet you seem to act their age. It’s evident in the way you completely forgot to send in that report on time.” 

“It happened once! And by accident! Like I said, it was because–” 

“Take responsibility,” he spits. His hand goes to his hip and now you’re on the verge of hyperventilating. You didn’t expect a lecture when you came here. You expected Miguel to throw a fit, yelling at you, and then banishing you from his office within minutes. But you’re still here. 

“Okay, I will,” you finally state. You feel deflated from the conversation already and you’re starting to get impatient at his obvious anger. Or annoyance. He seemed to be either angry or annoyed by you everytime you’re around. 

“Okay, let’s hear it.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his elbows brushing against your chest in the process with how close he is. You take a deep breath. 

“I’m taking responsibility for not giving you the report on time. I apologize, boss.” 

He nods before turning on his heel and returning to his screen. You’re left confused and you even raise a brow at the odd reaction. 

“Don’t you want the report now?” You ask, kicking your heel at the ground. 

“No, not right now. I’m busy. Come back later.” 

“But I had plans with Gwen,” you start, but he snaps his neck back at you and his eyes glow red. You stop talking immediately. 

“Come. Back. Later.” He hisses, fangs showing. 

“Right, will do,” you stutter out before attempting to run off that platform. Your two left feet make you trip and fall, making you have to shoot out a web to catch yourself before you planted face first on the floor below. 

You didn’t dare to look up and see if Miguel saw that, you left as soon as your feet hit the ground. 

By the time you went to regroup with Gwen, she wasn’t where you left her. It took you a moment to walk around the building before you found her outside, sitting and staring at the scenery. You climbed the structure she was on, upside down, before shooting out webs to anchor you, and lowering yourself and sitting next to her. 

“How was it?” She asks, looking at you. 

“Not so well,” you confess. 

“Really? What happened?” Her eyes widen. 

You shrug. “Not much, actually. I apologized and took responsibility for not giving it to him on time.” 

“But? Your face looks like there’s a ‘but’ somewhere in there,” she laughs. You nudge her shoulder with yours and you frown. 

“Yeah, there’s a but. He didn’t want the report. Told me to go back later tonight to give it to him.” 

“That’s great!” Gwen smiles. 

“How’s that great?” You ask, raising a brow. You decide to look out in front of you both and see the vast city before you. Although you’re upside down, you never get tired of the view. 

“Because you have time to do the report and then give it to him, duh. You don’t have to verbally give it to him on the spot.” 

“I don’t know,” you finally breathe. You place your palms behind you and lean back. Gwen does the same, mimicking you. 

“You know, Jess mentioned that he’s a big softie under all that anger and macho-ness.” 

“What?” You laugh, wondering why the hell she’s steering the conversation this way. 

Gwen nods with a smile curling on the tips of her lips. “Yep. It kind of reminds me of those stupid sayings where if he makes fun of you, he likes you.” 

Your body stiffens and you shake your head. “Gwen! What are you talking about? Miguel?” 

There is nothing behind the reasons why he’s cold to you or why he’s made it seem like you aren’t worth being around. If he had any inkling of attraction toward you, you’d know. Spider sense or not. 

“See tonight, then! And please let me know. I kind of made a bet with Jess… I have to win.”

You groan. “What?! You guys are betting on the most impossible thing. There is nothing there. He hates me, but like actually. There is no underlying meaning.” 

“Sure,” Gwen laughs. “Anyways, Miles said he’s coming back tomorrow so we might have to raincheck on that girls night.” 

“I thought that was tonight?” 

“I figured we’d have to move it to tomorrow night the moment you mentioned Miguel needing to see you tonight. He’ll probably make you handwrite that damn report all night.” 

You lean your head back and stare at the city above you. “Fine, raincheck. But nothing is going on, you’ll see.” 

“Hmm,” is all Gwen says before you shake your head and laugh. You both stay watching the city in silence for a little longer before you go on with your day, dreading for the night to come. 

***

“Miguel?” You call out into the darkness of his office. His platform is dark, with no sign of life from him or anyone. 

Suddenly, you hear a fizzle in the air and then Lyla pops up into thin air. You almost yelp, hand flying to your chest. 

“Hey! Miguel let me know for you to meet him in his quarters.” Lyla floats around you, disappearing and reappearing at random spots. Her pink glasses lower on the bridge of her nose as she takes a good look at you. 

“His place?” You repeat, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. You’ve never been called to his quarters. He had a place of course in the city, but it was known that he’d stay multiple times a week at the floor of the building that acted as a penthouse for when he needed to be on call for anyone. 

You were terrified that you did something else wrong and that’s why he decided to have this meeting in a more private location. You gulp, looking at Lyla. 

“Don’t look so scared!” She laughs. “Come on!” She yells before disappearing and reappearing a few yards away closer to the elevator. 

You follow with no argument before you both get into the elevator and it skyrockets a few more floors up. The elevator dings and you see Miguel in normal clothes, not his suit. It didn’t occur to you that he can wear something else besides his suit. You’ve never seen him without the suit, so this was weird. 

Miguel hears your steps and he looks, a look of concern on his face. You instantly cross your arms over your chest, as if trying to hide yourself from his gaze. His eyes drift from your toes to your eyes before he looks at Lyla who appears in front of him. 

“She’s here, boss,” she sing-songs before Miguel grunts. 

“Thanks, Lyla. Now pause all updates unless it’s an emergency. Forward any updates to Jessica if there are any.” 

“Only if you say it,” Lyla teases, twirling around Miguel’s body. 

Miguel groans, rolling his eyes. “Lyla, do it.” 

“Nuh uh, I need to hear it boss,” she pushes. This makes you giggle at the encounter but you shut your mouth as Miguel gives you a stern look. 

“Please, Lyla,” he finally says with a bite to his words. 

“Already done, boss, but I loved hearing that,” Lyla says before evaporating into thin air. The silence fills the room as you stand there, rocking back and forth on your heels. 

“Where’s your suit?” He finally asks, heading to the kitchen. You follow blindly, unsure what else to do. 

“I-uh, didn’t think I’d need it.” You looked down at your sweats and long sleeve, wondering if you should’ve looked more presentable. It was past dinnertime, way past that to be precise, the sky was dark outside his floor to ceiling windows, so it didn’t make sense to wear anything else. You wanted to feel cozy too. The softness of the clothes calmed you a bit with the anxiety of what Miguel might say. 

You tried to write the report earlier, but your mind was a mess. You’d have to apologize for that again you were sure of it. 

“You didn’t, just wanted to ask,” Miguel chuckles as he reaches inside his fridge and pulls out a water bottle. He turns to you and raises it, looking at you with a questionable face. You nod as he tosses you it and you open it, taking a few sips. You hear the crack of his own and his gulping. 

You didn’t realize how much of a cottonmouth you had until you started drinking the cold water. 

“So the report, do you have it?” He asks, heading toward you. 

“About that…” you start. His jaw clenches and his eyes go red for a moment before they go back to the pretty brown. 

“You didn’t do it?” 

You shake your head, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. “No, I-I tried to. I swear, I can do it right now, just let me get my computer or a pen and paper.” 

That’s when he laughs again. You’ve never heard him laugh before. It was like music to your ears. Your heart picks up its pace at the sound and the way his eyes crinkle at the motion. His teeth bare with the laugh and you notice the fangs popping out. 

An inappropriate thought of him sinking them into you comes to the forefront of your mind and you suck in your breath and clench your thighs together. He pinches his brows, looking at you at the sudden sound you swore he wouldn’t be able to hear. 

“Ven aquí,” he beckons as he waves you over to the other end of the place where a living room holds a few couches. The place isn’t decorated and it looks like it was just created as something to show, not live in. He sits on the edge of the couch and you walk over to him, keeping a few inches away. 

You can practically feel his body heat emanating and your body betrays you as your knees get wobbly and you have to clear your throat. You curse yourself for having these reactions toward your boss in his private place. 

Lyla couldn’t even interrupt you both as much as you’d like. You didn’t want to be scolded. You wanted to take the punishment of finishing the report in front of Miguel and then go home.

“Your heart is racing so fast,” he murmurs, causing you to gasp. Heat pools in your belly and your cheeks start to burn. He cocks his head to the side before sighing and running a hand through his hair. His biceps flex under his shirt and you bite your lip. 

“It’s just hot in here,” you lie, fanning yourself to prove a point. 

“The AC is on,” he counters. 

“Of course,” you squeak. You try so hard to lower your heart rate, but it’s not helping being so close to him. 

“Do you want to know what else I can observe?” He asks, looking up at you from beneath his lashes. Your ears are pounding as you intake a sharp breath. 

“What?” You whisper. 

He rises, getting close to you. He lifts a hand and traces a finger underneath your chin, causing you to tremble and your lips quiver. “I can smell the way your sweat is protruding. And it’s not from fear.” 

“Oh,” you whisper again. 

He bares his teeth, fangs glinting. “I can also smell you to the point where it’s driving me fucking crazy right now.” 

“Smell me? Like my sweat and my scent?” You raise a brow. You’re not sure where he’s getting at this. Is he trying to intimidate you? Cause it’s working. 

“I can smell your arousal,” he chuckles, getting closer to brush your chest with his body. You widen your eyes. 

“Oh, uh, I’m so sorry,” you apologize, not knowing what else to say. You try to clench your thighs together, but that doesn’t help with the growing feeling between them. Your pussy is basically singing for him to touch it. You do your best to push down those thoughts, it’s utter humiliation that he can sense those things. 

His thumb brushes your bottom lip and your knees almost give out at the gentle touch. It’s all confusing you to the point where you’re not even sure this is happening. 

“You look confused,” he mutters. 

“I-uh, I’m not sure what’s going on. I thought I was going to be lectured. I thought you’d send me away to finish the report or something,” you admit. 

“You won’t be going on any missions anytime soon, how’s that for a lecture?” 

Your heart drops at this. “What? How is that fair? I’m not the only one who missed a report, I’m sure!” 

His hand drops from your face and you miss the feeling of it instantly. You stare at him and your anger is starting to increase. Scrunching your brows together, you exhale loudly. 

“It’s completely fair for the way it was handled.” 

It wasn’t wise for you to keep talking back to your boss, especially being alone with him. There wouldn’t be anyone around to save you if he started one of his rage arguments. 

“The report can be done now, how about that?” he finally breathes. He retreats back to the couch and leans back, thighs spreading. His frame is large and your eyes immediately go to his core and then his crotch. You gulp, knowing you shouldn’t be looking in that region. 

He says your name sternly and you look up before seeing a smirk pass his lips. 

You shake your head and straighten your posture. “Of course, boss. Where do you want me to do it?” You ask, looking around for a desk or maybe he wanted you to complete it on the kitchen island. You still needed a paper and pen or a computer. 

He makes a slapping sound and you turn toward it, seeing him slapping his thigh. You stare at him incredulously. 

“Miguel?” You whisper. His eyes are no longer the light brown you remember from moments before. They've gone a little darker and red is seeping into the sclera. You gulp. 

“Aquí,” he states firmly. You oblige, getting closer and bumping your knee with his before you stand in between his spread thighs. 

Your heart continues to race and you’re surprised you haven’t passed out from it. He pats his thighs again before he leans up for a moment, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling you in so easily. He lifts you up like you weigh nothing before you’re straddling his thighs, legs on either side of his. 

It happens so quickly all you can do is gasp and then balance yourself by placing your hands on his shoulders. His very broad, strong shoulders. Your fingers clasp them tightly and you swallow. 

“Isn’t that better?” he whispers. You bite your lip, not sure how to respond. His hand lifts to brush your cheek before pushing strands of hair behind your ear. The movement is delicate and completely opposite of how Miguel holds himself in public. You’ve seen him swat a butterfly once that wasn’t even bothering him and his grumpy persona is all you know. 

“Tell me,” he demands. You part your lips. 

“Yes,” you finally admit. His hands move to your waist and press hard, enough for you to gasp. Your fingers dig into his shoulders and he hisses. 

“What are we doing?” You ask, courage finally bubbling out of your chest. 

“I’ve noticed things about you, reina,” he whispers, holding you tighter. 

“You have?” 

He nods. “The way you look at me. Your heart races when you’re near me. Your pussy craves my touch, I can smell it everytime.” 

“What? No, it’s not–” you scream but he pulls you closer on his thighs until your core brushes against his. You feel something right under your pussy and you realize it’s his erection. 

Your hips instinctively roll at the feeling and you groan, biting your lip. 

“See? You can’t deny the way your body is wanting me. I can’t lie and say I haven’t thought about it too. That I don’t feel the same way.” 

“Miguel,” you squirm underneath his hold but that only makes your hips roll even more into his erection and it sparks something in you. It feels so good and a moan leaves your lips. He grunts, fangs hitting his bottom lip for a moment. A slight red dot forms from the incision. 

“Besame,” he asks, smoothing his hands up to your torso, over your arms and then to your cheeks. You feel intoxicated from his touch. 

He wants you to kiss him. You can’t deny that, you’re already so far gone now. Without a delay, you nod and lean in, crashing your lips to his. A moan escapes your lips while a hiss leaves his. You feel a slight prick from his fangs and you gasp. 

“Sorry, reina,” he says, licking your bottom lip. 

You take a few deep breaths, lifting a hand from his shoulder to run it through his hair. You don’t do it gently, call it payback for the fang bite. But it only rouses him more, your fingers grasping harshly at his strands. He pulls you in then again to kiss you and then pushes his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you with fervor and you let him. Your hips begin to roll over his erection and it hits the spot you need it to. 

“Take these off,” he slaps your ass and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your sweats. You nod before lifting yourself and he pulls them down. You shift awkwardly until your sweats are off and then you’re straddling him with just your panties. His calloused palms touch your thighs and he groans. 

“Fuck, your skin is so soft.” He murmurs before smoothing his hands over your thighs before moving to your panties. 

“Do you want me to take these off too?” 

He shakes his head, lifting a hand. You see a talon come out from his finger and he’s quick to cut the fabric of your panties. You gasp and he smiles. 

“Hey!” You yelp. 

“My turn,” he moves on, moving his hands to pull down his own pants. You have to lift yourself again, your panties falling from the motion. You watch as he slides his pants down enough until they’re past his knees. You finally look down and gasp, not expecting him to be bare underneath. No boxers, just his erected cock ready for you. A glint of pre-cum is at the tip and your mouth salivates at the thought. 

His hand goes to his cock and he starts to move it up and down. He hisses through the movements before he licks his hand and continues the motions. You widen your eyes. 

“Are you ready for your report?” He breaks your thoughts. 

You lock eyes with him. “T-the report? Right now?”

He nods. “Sit on my cock, reina, and give me the damn report.” 

Your cheeks burn and you look around the room, wondering if this is some kind of dream. You lift your hand to your other arm and pinch. It hurts, so you know you’re not dreaming. 

He’s still fisting his cock as he waits patiently. His eyes are redder than before and he licks his lips. 

“Miguel,” you whisper. 

“You’re so wet for me already, I know it,” he laughs. 

He wasn’t wrong, but your brain was turning into mush. You muster the courage to finally do as he says. You lift yourself enough to hover over his core and his hand moves from his cock to your pussy and you gasp from the feeling of his fingers running along your wet folds. 

“Fuck, you’re going to be a tight fit. But I can’t warm you up, I’m sorry,” he mumbles. 

“Wait, why?” 

“Another punishment, now sit on my cock before I change my mind about everything.” 

You didn’t want to know what else he planned for your punishment and you knew it wouldn’t be nearly as enticing as this. He’d probably make you work at the cafeteria or some shit. 

“Okay,” you meep, finally lowering yourself onto his tip. You hiss at the feeling of his wet tip entering you. 

“Come on, you got this,” he coos as his hands move to your waist to help lower you down. Inch by aching inch, you lower until you’re full of him. His girth practically splits you in half and you bite your lip, holding in a cry. 

“You’re so pretty like this, sitting on my lap with my cock stuffed inside you.” 

You let out a deep breath. “You’re so big, Miguel, I need a moment.” 

“Take your time, you’re not leaving anytime soon.” 

Your heart skips a beat at that thought. It takes a moment for you to adjust to his length before you’re ready to roll your hips. It feels like the world has flipped upside down and you’re in heaven. Sparks run all along your spine and throughout your body. 

His cock twitches inside you and you start to roll your hips, closing your eyes. 

“Open your eyes,” he demands. You whip them open and stare at him. Your hands dig into his shoulders again as you roll your hips again, causing him to groan and tighten his hold on your waist. 

“Now, the report,” he repeats. 

“Oh, yeah, uh–” you mumble out. Your mind can’t concentrate on that damn report as your pussy clenches around his cock. He stills your movements. 

“We can only continue if you start talking,” he says. 

That’s when you realize what he’s doing. He’s not going to take you off his lap until you’re done with the report. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to handle that. Your orgasm is already rising to its peak with the small movements. He’s so big, hitting your g-spot perfectly. Each roll of your hips sends you closer and closer to your release. 

“Okay, well,” you start. “Hobie and I were able to handle the Vulture from Earth-673. It was good and–ah–we got him contained.” You say, biting your lip to keep from coming. 

“And?” Miguel presses, lifting his own hips to drive his cock a little more into you. An exasperated pant leaves your mouth at this. He’s cruel. 

“And that was it, that was all we did. Nothing else happened,” you mumbled out quickly. 

“That’s not what I saw on the screens,” he hums. He moves a hand to roam down between your cores. His thumb presses gently against your clit and you clench his cock before whimpering. 

“Miguel!” 

“What else happened?” 

You try so hard to think back to the mission that happened days ago. You curse Hobie for not sending the report or reminding you that you had to do it. 

That’s when you remember something. You smile. “Gwen was handling that train cart that fell off the platform and then Hobie and I focused on the people on the ground. We got them all.” 

“And what else?” Miguel starts to circle his thumb over your clit at a faster pace. You groan and hang your head back. His movements stop. 

“Miguel, please,” you squirm, trying to get back that friction against your clit by rubbing yourself over his abdomen. He hisses and shakes his head. 

“You forgot about the canon event you didn’t stop,” he reminded you. 

That didn’t seem like important information to tell him. You all worked hard to prevent canon disruptions. It was an obvious task that didn’t need to be vocalized. He raises a brow. You take a deep breath and nod. 

“Y-yeah,” you mumble. “We allowed the canon event to happen successfully.” 

“Good girl,” Miguel coos before placing his thumb back on your clit and his other hand grasps your waist tight enough and he lifts you enough to slam you back down on his cock. You scream, falling on him and wrapping your arms around his neck. Your hands bury in his long hair. 

“So good for me,” he whispers in your ear as you roll your hips some more, chasing that high. 

“I’m close,” you whine. You feel his lips graze your neck and before you know it, you feel pain and little stabs at your skin. His fangs sink into your skin and that only causes you to moan loudly and squeeze his cock even more. He grunts before removing his fangs from your neck. 

“You did so well for me, you can come whenever you want to, reina,” he whispers. And before you know it, both hands go to your waist and he’s lifting you up at an alarming pace and slamming you down on his cock. 

You’re both panting loudly, the only sounds in the room are your cores slapping and your pussy drenching him in your arousal. 

“Fuck! I’m going to come,” you whimper. 

“Come all over my cock, baby,” he stutters as his pace of slamming you down grows sloppy. You nod and lift your head to look at him. His eyes are less red and his features have seemed to go a little softer. 

Before you know it, you’re screaming and coming over his cock. He doesn’t stop though, he continues to jut into you until his hips still and his hands shake on your waist. You feel the warmth spread inside you and you know he just released inside you. 

“Fuck,” he sighs. 

You lay your forehead against his chest and his hands are soft to the touch as he rubs your bare back underneath your shirt. You shudder underneath his touch, but you try to calm your breathing. Your pussy clenches around his softening dick and he groans. 

“I can get off,” you whisper, attempting to lift your hips, but his hold on you tightens. 

“No, not yet.” 

“Why?” You giggle. You lift your head and you’re nose to nose with Miguel. His eyes dance around your face before he answers. 

“I think you need to repeat the report once more.” 

“What?!” You scowl. 

“I’ve got you here now, what’s the problem? You can’t repeat the same thing you just said? Or are you too cockdrunk to think of anything?” 

You didn’t want to tell him that he’s right. The last few minutes are a blur and the mission of a few days ago is at the back of your mind already. You whimper as his hands lower to your ass and squeezes. You try to lift your hips again, but he slams you back down on him. The friction only causes your arousal to rise again. 

Fuck, you’re never going to leave are you? 

His erection starts to grow again in you and he smiles like a jerk. 

“The report, repeat it. If you stumble once, you’re starting over. I have all night.” 

You roll your hips, fully drowning in him and obeying his every command. You’re too far gone at this point to fight. 

You nod, biting your lip before starting the report again. You mumble a few times and you curse yourself as he takes a moment to lift you and slam you on his cock a few times. You scream his name relentlessly before having to start the report over again. 

You don’t get off his lap until the sun peeks from the horizon and filters through the penthouse. 

[floshav]

want you so bad.

Peter Parker x fem! reader

summary: Peter likes Mj. You like Peter. Everyday is hell when they're both in each others vicinity and you're sitting right behind the madness. You're so close to professing your love for him but you keep it under wraps because it seems like an impossible feat.

Warnings: intense yearning, slight steamy scene, kissing, alluding to smut

He brings his hat down, pushing his fluffy bits of hair to flair out at the ends of his hat. You quirk your head to the side wondering who he was trying to hide from or who he saw. Yet it was no surprise to find that it was Mj.

She walked in with her curly, unruly hair which made her look so, so beautiful. The freckles which danced on her face making her glow and it made you jealous. Why did her natural beauty shine through more than your own? Why couldnt Peter see that in you. Why couldn't you see anything in yourself.

His eyes darted around the park outside your school and finally landed on you. You looked at him with a knowing expression.

"Don't need to play it cool Parker. The whole school can smell your crush from here." You smirk.

He scratches the back of his head and pretends like he doesn't know you till' he gives you a defeated look.

"Whatever you say y/n...." It only takes a few more moments before he breaks

He musters out a breathy whisper which you've heard a billion times before. "Is that really MJ?" Peter gravelly asked, hands at either side of his head, giving in to the fact that he was definitely head over heels for her.

You try to hold in a sigh, " Yes, Peter. It is MJ. For the hundredth time this week!" You yearn out, half joke half seriously.

Peters shoulder's tense up as a dorky smile carves his lips. "Is she looking our way? Or is her nerdy ass stuffed in a book." Peter asks with wide eyes. The eyes which you found so adorable, palpable yet so far from the personal touch of your own fingertips.

You slowly turned your head around to glimpse at the curly haired girl who was indeed lost in a book.

"Yea, shes reading her book." You say as you shoot Peter a tight smile and hate Mj for being the stereotypical mysterious girl. You Wondered if he could sense the hurt beneath you. Of course not. He was just a boy after all.

"I wonder how her long eyelashes feel against her eye bags as she slurs through the words. Or how the spine of the book feels as her soft fingers inch it to crack. Ugh, I just want to count every freckle on her beautiful face. Ya think she's ever thought of me before?" Peter began to ramble sweet nothings to himself as if you were giving him your utmost attention and not thinking about how stars practically lived in his eyes as he talked about her. How you wish he was talking about you.

You felt that familiar soul crushing, heart sinking feeling that you knew too well. The feeling that every boy you've ever liked has given you. The feeling of being so close yet so far away was the final blow.

He placed both his hands on either side of his face again and began to softly bite his lip as he giggled to himself stupidly.

"What're you thinking about Parker." You ask playfully trying to lighten the mood for yourself.

"Her lips... her eyes.... her hair." He smiled to himself so oblivious to the fact that every compliment he gave her was a dagger to your heart.

------------------

2 months

2 months pass and Peter has started talking to Michelle. Instead of walking past him, she smiles, she waves occasionally and has even said small hi's to him. The progress aches your yearning heart further into abyss but you ignore it anyway. Michelle has a new glow to her, she radiates beauty and the colour yellow ever since they started conversing. While you stay stagnant, radiating a plain old indistinguishable grey.

You're in Peters room, you two have just finished a major lego piece you've been putting off and the nights going great.

buzz

There goes your night you think to yourself.

Peter picks up his phone only to reveal his dorky smile again. Hes immediately stuck like glue and you hate it. You hate her. Even though you shouldnt, you couldnt care less.

You lay beside him as he smiles at his phone when in fact he should be smiling at you.

You snatch his phone and crush it, crush it to bits imagining it was Michelle jones, every bit of it Gone. gone to dust.

you snap out of your fantasy and return to see him stuck in her spiders web.

"Hey Peter" you coon

"Whats up?" He sets his phone aside and turns to face you.

Unknowingly you inch closer, and closer but the gap is barely noticeable.

Your eyes flicker down to his lips and you take in a breath. He notices the subtle gesture and his mind wanders.

"Have you ever wondered.." You trail off

"Wondered.....?" He repeated

"Wondered what it'd be like to.."

"to... kiss someone." You shyly whisper knowing you both haven't had your first kisses.

"I think it'd be amazing. Especially with someone you like. Imagine the feeling, the sparks flying. Just everything put into place." He says as he searches your eyes for a deeper meaning behind your facade.

"Yea... Someone you like." Your heart pounds solemnly at the thought that you'd never share your first kiss with your first love because he was tangled up in a love story of his own.

"Why'd you ask?"

"Just... felt like it."

----------------------------

a month passes since that conversation and you see Peters lips locked onto Mj's as they share soft kisses beside the vending machine. You should feel happy for him but he's all you've ever wanted and you've just lost him. You want to scream, shout, cry but you don't have it in you anymore. You just don't care.

Peter pulls away and Mj has a wide smile plastered on her face. Something you rarely ever see from her. Your mind wanders to what Peters lips would feel like. Soft.. Plush and warm. The wetness of lips on lips makes you aroused. The sounds he'd make if you did something a little more. He was seemed like the type you thought to yourself. The way his face would be so flushed after you'd litter him with affection and kisses. Him gaining more confidence as you went on. Mj watching on the side. You hadn't even realised a dampening form on your panties until you shifted around. You wanted him so so bad, but all you could do was watch from the side.

[casuallyawkardd]

Hi dear, how are you?, could you write a imagine where reader offered to be a nanny for mayday and the newest member of the HQ, jess's son, and when Miguel arrives home, he can't take his eyes off reader as she puts the children to bed slept. And I couldn't get out of Miguelito's mind when he wants to put a baby in you, please.

Hello! I am well! Just got some good news in my personal life so even better than usual 🥰 Anywho I think this idea is so cute so let's dive in

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, suggestive themes but mostly PG, not fluent in spanish so plz correct grammar/spelling errors

"What the hell is this?"

Your head whips around to see your husband's figure in the entryway of the apartment. Miguel had just gotten off work, it had been a long day and he was hoping to just spend the rest of his afternoon at home; followed by curling up in bed with his arms wrapped around you. Maybe even do a little more than sleep once the two of you got under the covers.

Instead, he comes home to find you sitting on the floor surrounded by baby blocks and plastic animals. Miguel immediately recognized your little guests. Mayday, who was currently crawling her way over to greet him, and Gerry, Jess's new baby, who you were burping over your shoulder.

You, having ignored Miguel's initial comment, somehow made it to your feet without using your hands, which were occupied with Gerry, taking a few steps in his direction. "Jess and Peter stopped by and said they needed a sitter while they were training," you explain like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Last I checked, they were both married," Miguel's arm scooped up Mayday, who had already crawled halfway up his leg, "Can't MJ or Jess's husband watch them?"

"I don't know, I saw cute babies and said yes," you shrugged simply. The deadpan look Miguel gives you makes you chuckle softly, "C'mon, don't be like that. It's only for a few hours. Besides, it'll give you some practice."

"Practice for what?" You roll your eyes at his stubbornness, planting Gerry on one hip to make room for Mayday on the other, taking both babies to the kitchen for a snack. "....¿Mi amor?"

It took some convincing, but eventually Miguel was aboard the babysitter train. In a way, you felt like it was like you were playing house with him, a few hours of simulated family time. Playing pretend with the little toys Peter had brought with him, bouncing the little ones in your lap and pretending they were flying as you maneuvered them through the air. Something about the domesticity of it was charming to you, watching Miguel trying to fetch Mayday after she had crawled up onto the ceiling. She didn't make it easy for him, but seeing your husband's face shift from annoyed to amused once she fell into his arms warmed your heart.

The four of you were now sitting on the couch. It had gotten late, the two little ones having fallen asleep while watching some random kids movie you had thrown on. You looked between the baby boy in your arms and your husband, who currently had Mayday passed out on his chest.

"This is nice," you say, Miguel glancing at you once you have his attention. It makes you suppress a giggle, knowing he's probably trying to move as little as possible so as not to wake Mayday.

"S'pose it is," he begrudgingly agrees. looking back at the television. "Although, the science in this movie is completely unfounded. I don't think you can bring someone back from the dead with the power of love."

His commentary has you scoffing, "It's about the message, Miguelito, not the science."

"...Well it's a pretty shity message."

"Are you saying you don't think love conquers all?"

"Ye-" the words die on Miguel's tongue when he notices how your eyes narrow and the corners of your mouth turn down, "No? No. I'm not saying that."

Your expression softens, but only slightly, turning your attention to Gerry who's tiny hand is wrapped around your pointer finger. "I love baby hands. They're so chunky and small," you voice your thoughts, absentmindedly pressing down on Gerry's hand with your thumb, "Aww, squishy, little humans."

"Oh, you've got it bad," Miguel chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest, "Cómo se dice...oh yeah, baby fever." How do you say...

You shoot him a smirk, sitting a little straighter, "Maybe I do, what about it?"

Something in the way he looks at you shifts, the glimmer of admiration turning into something much darker. The kind of look that makes you hot under the collar, "Maybe I'll have to find the cure."

A knock at the door pulls you from the conversation, face red as if you just got caught doing something you weren't supposed to be doing. There's an internal sigh of relief when you see it's only Jess and Peter coming to pick up the kids. In all honesty, you only half pay attention to the small talk that ensues, your answers simple and brief when they ask how the kids were and if they had gotten dinner.

As the door shuts, the three of you exchanging your final farewells, a familiar arm snakes around your waist, pulling you into your husband's firm chest. His lips tickle your ear, making you jump as a chill goes down your spine.

"Let's go to bed, mi amor. I think I know just the thing to make you feel better," he's uncharacteristically playful with his words, adjusting his hold so his hand rests on your stomach. "te verás tan bonita con mi bebé dentro de ti." You'll look so pretty with my baby inside you.

Tags:

@prettylittlebrowngirl @khaleesihavilliard @leahnicole1219 @edgycatx

[ofbluesandyellows]

Blueberry Wednesday - TASM! Peter Parker / Fem! Reader

Summary: Peter has a new noisy neighbor and he doesn't know how to deal with that -including bright plates and tasty food.

Word count: 2,086

a/n: Hiya! This is a new little thing that came to mind a few days ago, it's so nice to be back to share something with you. Hope you enjoy it let me know if you want to read more :)

Peter had been living in this new apartment for a few months now, the building was nicer than the last, the hot shower worked fine and the electricity didn’t have that buzzing sound that made his migraines unbearable. It was in an okay area and it was close to where he worked.

His life had been monotonous for the same amount of time too, maybe even longer, waking up, shower, coffee, work, lunch, patrol, kick some ass, fix his wounds —when needed—, sleep and back to square one. Peter didn’t feel the need of anything at the moment, Mary Jane had broken up with him for the second time, and even when he was heartbroken, and cried to sleep when he missed her, he was not pushing her to accept him back, he knew it was for the best. Pushing everyone away was the thing he was masterful at. 

But this banging and screeching coming from the floor on top of his was causing his body to flinch every time that mother fucker sound appeared. His jaw clenched, his fist tightened. Peter had given whomever this person was, about an hour to come to their senses but this was enough. He stood up from his bed, leaving his badly sewed spider-man fixed suit splattered on the bed. Heavy steps and the slam of his door didn’t give the owner of the apartment a clue of what was coming for them, so when he banged the door two times, he waited but nothing happened, instead a wave of noise came through of it, as if the air and life were doing it on purpose just to add more stress in him; music the loud kind, instruments clashing against one another as if they had no rhythm to go with.

He banged the door, this time with white knuckles and a fury bubbling in his stomach. Suddenly the music stopped and Peter inhaled, oh, he was so ready to give this person hell, he was even expecting a fight to go down. This didn’t have anything to do with MJ dating another person, of course not, this was about the noise, yeah, that was it.

The door swung open and Peter puffed his chest, but it deflated the second his eyes landed on your frame. 

“Hi!” You said chirpy and jolly, waving a hand. Your hair was messy as if a wind swirl had trapped you and now you had to deal with this new crazy hairdo and a sweaty forehead.

Peter tried, he really did but his eyes betrayed him and went up and down your body, pink shorts, with strawberries, that was something. Your shirt was spotty with breach, it was an Arctic Monkeys one, he liked them. You looked… not as annoying as he expected.

He gulped and inevitably sighed. “Um hello, listen, I came up here to make you stop with the noise but I was not expecting to find you here, so um, yeah sorry. Just would you keep it down?”

All the hot bubbly anger settled down, he was in no way going to fight a girl let alone an adorable looking one.

“Oh, I had no idea, sorry!” You smiled sheepishly. “I just moved in this morning and I was trying to move a few things around because they just left them all scattered and I kind of wanted to— anyway yeah I am so sorry about that.” 

Peter nodded, he caught the pink in your cheeks going brighter the more he stared at you.

“You’re fine, really, maybe I’m just being a little dramatic.” 

Dammit enhanced hearing. 

“I bet you aren’t, I put the music too loud to avoid hearing the screeching myself.” Scratching your cheek you looked at him in the eye and quickly looked away. 

“Well, I live downstairs, do you… er need some help?” Peter looked past you, his eyes landing on the piled boxes and the furniture indeed resting in the center of the room.

“No need, I think I caused enough mayhem,”

“Nonsense, I would be also doing it for myself, if I help you you will finish early, hence I can have silence in my own apartment.” 

After a second you nodded, stepping aside. “Alright then.”

“My name’s Peter Parker by the way, I live literally below you.” His big hand extended, you met his and soon you two were moving furniture around the apartment, the music didn’t sound like noise in Peter’s ears any more, he in fact found out you really liked The Strokes.

The next morning Peter woke up with a banging headache, a brick wall fell over him when he tried to save a dog from a fire down by Little Italy. Only positive thing about his heroic act was that the owner of the dog handed him a little coupon card for free pizzas for the rest of the year at his son’s pizzeria two blocks down. He was definitely using that one.

A soft almost imperceptible knock startled him as he swallowed two ibuprofens with a big gulp of black coffee. The coffee was cold but he couldn’t care less.

As if he wasn't sure the knock had been on his door, he opened it slowly, you couldn’t be too sure anyway. At least his spider senses weren’t skyrocketing, which was always good.

His eyes found emptiness, there was no one at his door, his head popped out, looking to the right then the left and then a sweet smell caught his attention. Syrup-y, vanilla like.

Eyes went to the floor instinctively, right at his feet there was a yellow plate, a baby blue sticky note on the plastic wrapping it. 

His brows furrowed as he squatted down. 

Hi, Peter Parker.

I’m so sorry I disturbed your peace last night, 

take these pancakes as an apology and as a thank you for your help.

Have a good day,

- your noisy top floor neighbor.

Peter felt a flutter in his chest, he hadn’t eaten pancakes in so long, and these looked extremely good. The plastic wrap was forming little condensation drops, so he picked it up, with a smile forming on his lips.

As soon as the wrap was discarded his apartment filled with the smell of sweet homey goodness. Even a little plastic pot of syrup was resting at the side of the pancakes. He looked at them for a good minute, just appreciating the looks of it. 

“Okay…” he mumbled to himself as he grabbed a fork, his cold coffee still half drunk near his left hand.

Peter firstly dipped his pinky in the syrup and as he sucked on it he couldn’t help to make a sound of pure joy. Pouring the gooey thing over the spongy misshapen circles was making his mouth water and the first bite was like a whole new experience to him. He noticed how the pancakes were soft like he imagined clouds were, then he chewed on something sour his eyes widened, looking down he noticed the very well hidden blueberries.

It was like having a party in his mouth, warm, sugary with a hint of sourness and then all combined, he moaned as his forehead hit the surface of the counter in his kitchen. 

“You have to be kidding me!” 

Peter was a fan of berries in general but there was definitely something in the blueberries that made him extremely happy, it was almost childish, it was probably the memories of his mom adding them to his cereal when he refused to eat something else.

The whole thing disappeared in less than a few minutes. He was both flattered and a bit insulted by you for giving him six pancakes instead of the common amount of three but he was also very grateful, he hadn’t had a breakfast like that since he lived with May, and that had been years ago. This made him feel warm inside, almost loved.

The water of the sink cleaned the remains of the food and he stared at the plate, a big pink smiley face was painted on the center of it, this made him chuckle, one that vanished as quickly as it came. How was he supposed to give you back your plate, he was not good at cooking, well… only if you appreciated instant ramen or mac and cheese coming from a box.

He wasn’t very fond of the idea of returning your plate empty, made him feel ungrateful, even though he had been the one handing you his services, it hadn’t taken much from him to help you anyway, you had been nice and chatty, he even enjoyed being around you, and Peter didn’t enjoy being around many people. 

With a deep sigh he left the cheery plate to dry on the rack, he had to go to work now.

Working for this new lab was something he didn’t expect to feel excited about but being part of the genetics department was probably the best decision they made for him, he could check all kinds of weird things, giving him access to classified information that was also helpful for his arachnid counterpart. 

But just today wasn’t one of those days, his mind kept on drifting to you and your plate and those freaking incredible pancakes. Deep down he thought of finding ways to help you so he could eat those delicious fluffy things at least once more. For now he had to just entertain the idea, soon he focused on options to give you back your stuff without even going knocking at your door.

Because that would be weird? Isn’t it? To knock and give your plate back with a nod and then disappear without a word. It seemed too impolite and somehow Peter wanted to seem like a complete gentleman with you, after all he had been a bit forward last night, he was tired and upset and you were being so noisy but now here he was in a dilemma. 

Lunch felt like a slap, like a bucket of cold water, his sandwich tasted like sandpaper –not that he had tried it but he guessed that’s what it tasted like–not even his favorite drink from the vending machine seemed good enough in comparison to his three Michelin star breakfast. Swinging back home felt a little better than going in the subway, he made a mental note to fix his motorcycle, he didn’t need to deal with the heat of the city when he could drive to work and back and enjoy the breeze.

You know how destiny and coincidences are such a funny thing, Peter decided to take the elevator to his floor instead of just crawling up to his window. He just felt like it, so he stood there waiting until the door clinked sliding open, revealing a figure inside, your sparkly eyes was the first thing he saw.

Peter almost gasped.

“Peter! Hi,”

“Hey! Are you heading out?” duh how are you so smart, Parker? “I mean yeah of course you are, if not you wouldn’t be here.”

You chuckled. “Yes, I just ran out of milk.” Cheeks going pink, Peter smirked.

“Right, well, I won’t get in your way.”

“Okay, see you around.” 

Peter walked in the elevator and just as you walked past him, he held the door open just to see you for a little longer.

“Hey!” he quickly shouted. your hair flipping as you twirled to face him. “Thanks for the pancakes, they were really good, like exceptionally amazing.” 

“Ha, wow no, thank you, I really appreciate what you did for me yesterday, hopefully there won't be more disturbances in the future.” 

“Please, be my guest, if you need something you know where to find me.” 

“Will try not to bother you much but it’s good to know, thanks!” 

Peter was grinning. “By the way, the blueberries were quite the surprise, they’re my favorite.”

Your whole face brightened “Good! You were lucky, then. It was Blueberry Wednesday.”

Chest fluttering and all, Peter saw you wave at him and disappear out the door, his way to his apartment felt light, like all his worries had suddenly evaporated. His apartment seemed cozier too. Kicking off his shoes, he went to grab a glass of water, his eyes finding the happy yellow and pink plate, he almost choked.

“Oh shit! What am I going to do with you?”

Scratching his neck, he really needed an excuse now. He wanted to see you again.

[florencemtrash]

Hummingbird: Chapter Seven

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: angst and some suggestive content

Peter plugged Mayday’s ears with his fingers before saying, “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”

He stared daggers into Miguel’s back as he typed away at the computer, the sunglasses you’d given him resting on his broad nose.

Miguel ignored him, but Peter was anything if not persistent - Mayday got all her charm from him… sorta.

He flicked out a web, launching him and May up onto the platform that Miguel had isolated himself on for the last three days, only leaving when he absolutely needed to or when a multiversal problem came to light.

“Did you hear me, Miguel?”

Peter went to jab Miguel’s side, but the grouchy Spider-Man wasn’t in the mood, catching Peter's wiry wrists with ease and chucking him over and off the edge of the platform. 

Peter rebounded quickly.

“That was rude.” He said, first dusting off his sweater and then Mayday’s. She giggled in her carrier.

“Again! Again!” She cooed.

“Go away, Peter.” Miguel’s voice was rougher than sandpaper.

“Bet you wouldn’t use that tone of voice with Y/n.” 

Miguel practically growled, shooting Peter a warning glance. He looked like he was going to say something, but one glance into Mayday’s pure blue eyes and he hesitated.

“I’m not in the mood, Pete.”

“I know you’re not. You’re never in the mood to talk about your feelings.”

That wasn’t the whole truth. He had wanted to talk about his feelings with you the night he fired you from Spider Society. He had wanted to explain so many things - what his life had been like before he met you and before Gabriella; how sorry he was for letting you get hurt; how he just couldn’t seem to get past the wall of voices in his head that told him something terrible would happen if he let himself be happy. 

The words hadn’t come out that night. He’d just stood there like an idiot until you finally gave up on an answer and left.

Maybe it was better this way.

“Miguel, do you remember what I was like when you first met me?” 

The question surprised him and Miguel snorted without thinking. 

Peter had just started to pull himself together when Miguel popped into his universe and asked him to join Spider Society. Miguel had helped him get his act together - helped him lose the bags under his eyes and the five o’clock shadow and the beer belly. Hell, he even helped Peter pick out the flowers to bring to MJ’s house. Granted, Peter had gained all that back - the eye bags, the facial hair, and the extra weight - but for a good reason this time. Mayday was living proof of that. 

Peter smiled at the memory. Miguel had been a happier person then. Still sarcastic and dry, but with a lightness that hadn’t been seen in years… at least not until you’d showed up.

“Yeah... I remember.” Miguel said quietly. 

“Would you believe me if I said we’ve switched places since then?” 

Miguel frowned, disliking the comparison.

It wasn’t that he thought less of his friend - on the contrary, Miguel had always been jealous of how easily Peter could step into his role as a father and husband - but he just hadn’t seen it like that.

He looked forward, bits and pieces of his face staring back from the dark corners of the screen. His hair was disheveled, eyes bloodshot and burning after hours of looking at screens, and dark bags dragged down the skin beneath his eyes. 

“Fuck.” Miguel groaned, dropping his face into his hands. 

When was the last time he’d slept? Actually sat down to eat a meal? He missed you more than anything. He wanted to see you again, to make you smile, and to have you in his arms. Maybe it was selfish - it was definitely selfish - to want to have you around him, but… 

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa. Language!” Peter once again covered Mayday’s curious ears, “There’s a child here, you son of a bitch.” He whispered aggressively.

“What do I do, Peter?” Miguel murmured softly, “I don’t know what to do.” 

Peter sighed, pulling out headphones and plopping them on Mayday’s head of bright red curls. This was a conversation for the adults and she seemed to understand, settling down against her father's chest and widening her eyes to comical proportions.

“I think you know exactly what to do.” 

“I literally just said I don’t know.” 

“Aggghh,” Peter shook his hands in frustration, “How can you be so smart and so dumb! Do what I did! Win her back! Go to her apartment. Apologize. Tell her how you feel. Be better.” 

“It’s not that simple!” Miguel threw his hands up in the air, “I don’t belong in her world and she doesn’t belong in mine. To even be around her - to love her - is to risk everything I've built. Everything we protect. I can’t-I can’t make that mistake again. I can’t…” Miguel swallowed thickly, “It was my fault Peter. It was all my fault. I lost my daughter. I can’t lose Y/n too.” He finished, eyes angled to the floor and shoulders shaking with each shuddering breath. 

Peter's shadow fell over his feet, but what he wasn’t expecting was for a pair of small, chubby hands to grip his cheeks and smear away the tears that had fallen there.

Little Mayday Parker, as wild and mischievous as her father, crawled out of her carrier and hugged him with a strength no normal two year old should be capable of.

“Don’t cry. No crying.” She commanded, rubbing her hands against his face again.

He couldn’t help it. He smiled.

“I told you she makes everyone feel better.” Peter said. A proud smile warmed his cheeks.

“She does.” Miguel said.

The precocious toddler leaned back to inspect her work and nodded in approval.

Peter clapped a hand on Miguel’s shoulder. “Y/n is different from the rest of us, Miguel. And I think she just about breaks all the rules you know about the multiverse. If things are going to work out with anyone, they’ll work out with her.” 

Miguel felt that inextinguishable bit of hope inside him grow a little stronger. Then he flinched, thinking back on how he’d ended things with you.

“I messed up, Peter.” 

“I know.” 

“No, I majorly messed up.”

“Oh trust me, I know.” He said, picking Mayday up and twirling her around, “But! I have an idea about how you can fix things.” He winked, “I learned from the best.”

>>>

Washed, clothed, and feeling worse than ever - that was the tagline of the evening as you sank into your couch, turned on the TV, and started drawing circles on a notepad. You pushed through the cramping in the palms of your hands, willing the feeling to extend up to the tips of your fingers which had remained numb and stiff ever since being electrocuted.

Someone knocked at the door and your heart gave a little leap as you blinked over to the front hallway and peered through the peephole.

“Y/n?” Mrs. Fleming’s muffled voice asked. “It’s Mrs. Fleming. Are you in there?”

You tried to mask your disappointment before flinging open the door.

Mrs. Fleming folded her fingers together, laying them on her plump stomach as she calmed herself. “Good heavens, dear!” 

You flinched, “Sorry for scaring you, Mrs. Fleming.” You said apologetically. 

“I hardly heard you make your way to the door. Might be time for me to get those hearing aids." She made a noise of disapproval with her tongue, diving into the folds of her thick sweater that emphasized her plump figure and pulling out a small container of lasagna. She gave it a light shake.

“I made extra and thought I’d check in. Didn't know if you had time for a proper grocery run since coming home. It’s funny though. I could have sworn I heard someone moving around up here two weeks ago before you got back.” 

“It was probably Miguel.” You said, and almost winced as the name left your lips, “He took care of some things while I was away.” 

“Hmmmph.” The old woman hummed in thought before nodding, handing you the tupperware, and bustling back down the hallway.

Well at least now I have dinner. You thought to yourself, shutting the door and shuffling over to the kitchen. You watched the plate turn and turn in the microwave as thoughts turned in your mind. 

Maybe you should have told someone you were officially leaving (or rather that you’d been officially kicked off the team) and said your goodbyes, but it hadn’t been your intention to teleport back to your dimension. Now that you were here, you knew it wouldn’t be a walk in the park trying to get back to Earth-928 on your own. You’d seen what kinds of worlds the multiverse held and didn’t want to risk ending up stuck somewhere strange if things went awry. You’d stick to this world with its quirky landlords and quality cooking shows - a world without Miguel.

Damn it. You frowned, setting the plate down on the coffee table with a clatter. You were thinking about him again. You were missing him again.

There came another knock at the door, and you were convinced you heard the click of the silly knitting needles Mrs. Fleming always carried around with her. It was why you didn’t bother to look through the peephole before swinging the door wide open again.

“Hey Mrs. Fle-”

You froze. Mrs. Fleming was nearing 80 years old and barely came up to your shoulder. You were eye level with this person's chest.

You already knew whose russet-colored eyes you were going to see before you looked into them. 

Miguel was almost unrecognizable in civilian clothes, a bouquet of white and yellow daisies clutched in his hand - your favorite.

“Hey,” He breathed out, lips lifted in a nervous, half-smile. “Y/n, I-”

You slammed the door shut in his face. It was more out of surprise than anything else. Yes, you’d hoped that he would seek you out. Yes, you had imagined what you’d say if he decided to find you in your universe with flowers and an apology. But it was very different seeing him stand in front of you like a lost puppy with those beautiful red-brown eyes and tousled head of curls.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. ¿Qué hago? 

You paced in front of the door, gnawing on a fingernail as you tried to think of what to do.

What you wanted to do was drag him inside by the font of his shirt and slam your lips against his, but your pride wouldn’t let you do that with reckless abandon.

“Y/n… I can hear you pacing.” Miguel said from the other side. He was sweating bullets and gripping the daisy stems so hard in his hand he worried they might snap. “Listen, I know you probably don’t want to see me right now. Maybe you don’t want to ever see me again, but… I just want to apologize. For everything. I never should have said those things to you. I was wrong and I'm sorry.” 

Your heart clenched painfully. You pressed your ear up against the door to hear him better, not caring that he could probably tell exactly what you were doing. 

“I never should have kicked you off the team. You are cut out for this and you’re one of the most talented, most competent people I know.”

You watched as Miguel waited seriously, holding onto the bouquet of daisies like they were in danger of being ripped away from him.

You opened with some hesitation, but you were already a goner. His eyes lit up even while the rest of him remained silent and serious. 

“You brought flowers.” You said dumbly, pointing to them. He thrust them out towards you, cellophane crinkling.

“I know it’s not much but-”

“I like them.” You said quietly, rubbing one of the velvet petals between your fingers. The anger you'd held towards him before was all gone. Now, you just missed him. “Come on.” 

You led him inside your apartment. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen your space. He knew to take off his shoes and to watch out for the coat hook that jutted out in the narrow hallway.

You moved around the kitchen with ease, Miguel standing close by and watching as you made some tea for the both of you. Neither of you had spoken since he’d stepped through the doorway.

“Y/n.” Miguel said, one hand brushing against your waist as you turned around and leaned against the counter.

Miguel filled up the tiny space of your kitchen, literally and figuratively, enveloping you in his presence.

“I’m sorry.” He dipped his head down towards yours, looking into your eyes.

“I know.” 

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.”

“Then explain it to me. Talk to me.” You begged, reaching up to take his face in between your hands.

He leaned into your palms, sighing and planting two quick kisses on your wrists before he could stop himself.

“Tell me.” You whispered again, leaning forward and pressing your forehead against his. You wanted to know. You wanted him to trust you enough with the stories he hadn’t told anyone else.

His hands floated down, squeezing your waist gently like he needed a reminder that you were truly in front of him.

“When I first met the other version of you - when I took my variant’s place - she knew something was different. She never said it to my face but I could tell I was hurting her. She was confused and upset because I wouldn’t remember dates or memories from the past. Because I was different. Because I was wrong.” 

You winced when you heard the pain in his words.

“And Gabriella… She was too young to know. She was just happy to have her father but…” He swallowed thickly, tears beginning to collect in his eyes, “I wasn’t him. I was never him. I never knew them like I should have. I was holding onto things that weren’t mine. I was... I was just this poison that came into their lives and destroyed their universe and I lost them both.” 

You shushed him, pulling him against your chest as he began to cry. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, engulfing you in a hug that brought the both of you to your knees. He never let go, holding you against him as he shook with sobs. 

“It’s ok. It’s ok. I’m here.” You whispered into his hair, feeling his breath coming out in short bursts against your skin. You blinked back tears, feeling your throat tighten. “I’m here.”

“I put them in danger and I can’t-” He shuddered, “I can’t lose someone else like that. I can’t. I can’t.” He repeated over and over and over again. “I thought I lost you that day when Miles and Gwen brought you back covered in burns. Your heart-” He stilled, “Your heart stopped for three minutes before you came back to us. And I realized that this time... this time I had something that was actually mine to lose.”

You held him there on the cold kitchen tiles until the bubbling kettle finally gave up and shut itself off and Miguel stopped trembling.

“I love you, Y/n.” He whispered the secret he’d been keeping for months on end.

He loved you. He loved you. He loved you. 

Your heart nearly burst from the feeling. 

“I thought I could ignore it - that it would just be some passing feeling - but I can’t.”

You laughed. It was a quiet, desperate sound, more like a sharp and wet exhale that made him pull back, worried that you didn’t believe him. It was his turn to hold your face in his hands. His hands slid up your sides, caressing your jaw as he tilted your chin up to look him in the eyes. Even with his tear-stained cheeks and mussed up hair he was the most beautiful person you’d seen in your entire life.

“I love you and I know you and it’s been the most terrifying thing in the world.” 

“...but?” You said, trying to tease him. You wanted to hear him say that he wanted you. Fuck the world. Fuck the multiverse. You wanted to hear him say that you’d give yourselves a chance to be happy.

“But I want you. I want to be with you if you’ll have me. I want the first dates and the fights and to come home to you everyday and know that you’re mine.” He said, rushing. He was a man of few words, always serious, always to the point, but if given the opportunity he would have written all the love letters in the world for you, “I want you to stay with me in Nueva York. I want you to judge my cooking and to tease me and-” 

You couldn’t stop yourself. You lips crashed into his, sending the both of you toppling back onto the kitchen floor. His arms immediately wound their way around your back, molding you to him as your hands disappeared into the strands of his hair and your breath became his.

“I love you too, Miguel. I love you,” You kissed him on the lips, “I love you.” You kissed him on the temples, “I love you,” the cheeks, “I love you,” the neck, “I love you,” You whispered against his lips. 

Miguel shuddered under your touch. He was all warmth and longing and heat as you grabbed at one another with eager hands. Clothes crumpled on the floor to the tune of breathless sighs.

The tiles were soothing and cool against your burning skin as you laid with Miguel, chests heaving as he peppered the area around your heart with soft kisses.

You rolled over onto your side to face him, fingers tracing the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones as you imagined what it might be like to draw him when he was at peace like this.

“Come back to Nueva York with me.” He murmured.

“Like this?” You gestured to your bare skin, wiggling your eyebrows. He grinned and kissed your fingertips.

“Depends on if you can blink us directly into my bedroom.”

“I thought you slept upside down from the ceiling rafters. Or in a coffin.”

He squeezed your hips, fingers fluttering dangerously at your sensitive sides as he captured your lips in a kiss. You squealed and squirmed away from his hands as he continued to tickle your sides until you were breathless and crying from laughter.

He loved to see you like this - smiling and laughing and happy. He wanted to see you like this everyday.

Your heart quieted in your chest and you finally allowed yourself to melt back into his protective arms.

“I mean it, Y/n."

 I will stay here - with you - if you just fucking ask me to. 

The pain of the argument you’d both had was still tender and sore to the touch, but a heavy weight had fallen off his shoulders after tonight. You wanted to be with him and he wanted to be with you.

"I want you to stay with me. I don’t mean you have to come this instant but…” 

“I’d like that.” You finished for him, smiling against his lips as you continued stealing lazy kisses from one another.

But then you paused for a moment, looking at him carefully, “And I’d like to be put back on the team.” 

Miguel’s lips flattened, his hands tightening around you. 

“With great power comes great responsibility - that’s what you Spider-People always say, isn’t it?” 

“Something like that, yes.” Miguel said after a pause.

“I can do this, Migs. I’m going to do this.” 

“I know,” He murmured and then said hesitantly, “I still want you to take time off and heal. I don’t want you putting yourself in unnecessary danger. I-” 

You pressed your fingers against his lips, shushing him, “I came back to you didn’t I? I won’t leave you here alone. I promise you that. It’s you and me, Miguel.” 

He let out a shaky breath, holding you closer than you thought possible.

“Me and you.” He murmured reverently. 

You spent the next few hours tangled up in each other on the kitchen floor, whispering sweet nothings and basking in the heat that naturally radiated off of Miguel’s skin. But when you finally fell asleep against his chest to the steady beat of his heart, he took the cue and gently carried you to the bedroom.

He couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face when your hands slid up and down the sheets, seeking out his warmth before he had had the chance to slip under the covers next to you. So when he took his rightful place in the bed, you unconsciously tangled yourself up in his arms again, humming with satisfaction when his fingers brushed through your hair.

“I love you.” Miguel whispered once more, feeling your sleepy arms tighten around him, before he finally closed his eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

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Author's note:

I just want Miguel to be happy, you know?

Also (hot take), I think we all deserve more gentle and loving interpretations of Miguel. I know in the movie he comes across as very stern and aggressive - which is why I think a lot of fics write him as being a very dominating romantic partner - but I think if he were to find someone he loved and was in a place where he felt comfortable starting a romantic relationship, he would be a lot kinder and gentler with them. But those are just my thoughts.

There's still a little more to come in this fic as I wrap things up so let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

Love,

Florence B.

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[ironspiderfics]

this is supposed to be a vacation

for @meilz

by @iron--spider

~

Tony loves this kid.

It’s a montage at the beginning of a movie—Tony was crazy about Peter almost immediately, couldn’t accept it, his own damn daddy issues courtesy of Howard Stark, then he had to accept it because the kid kept trying to die, then things settled, they worked together, then they unsettled and the kid dissolved in Tony’s hands, and a year of heavy-drinking and nearly exploding himself in the lab wound up with all the dissolved people undissolved and the kid back and Tony in a hospital bed. Three-week coma. Whole screaming celebration when he woke up loud enough to bust his eardrums and restart his heart.

But Peter was there. Peter was there. 

Time slowed to a crawl, sped up and slowed down again, and Tony tried to recover. He knew Peter and his friends went on that European trip—he encouraged it even though Peter was worried about leaving after everything. May and Happy chaperoned, and then everyone nearly died because Quentin fucking Beck decided to roll out of Tony’s past to try and kill off someone he loves. He failed, because Peter is Peter, and Fury and Happy shut down the false allegations Beck tried to put out there before he was arrested, and everybody came home.

It’s been about two months, since then. And Tony had just gotten back on his feet a week or so before Peter left, and he’s even steadier now. Getting steadier by the day. 

But he loves this kid. More now, than ever. The son he never had. He loves May, he loves the kids that come along with his kid, he loves everything Peter has to say and everything he doesn’t, he loves keeping an eye on his missions, he loves the way he fits so snug into Tony’s little family. 

And he loves him enough to know when he’s crashing. When his eyes are tired and his patrols aren’t as succinct and punchy as they usually are. When he needs a vacation from his recent vacation. As if nearly being killed by some asshole in London is the vacation any of them need. 

So, Tony makes a couple decisions. 

After all the shit they’ve gone through, what the hell could go wrong with a break?

~

Peter knew Tony was planning something, because he isn’t secretive when he’s excited, and he found out what he was planning when Tony asked if Ned and MJ’s families would mind if he took them out of the city for a few days.

And about a week later, they were heading upstate to Mohonk Mountain House.

And Peter hasn’t been complaining, at least not to Tony, but his tiredness has been bone-deep since he got back from London. Since before that, really. Coming back from the dead can do that to someone, and he doesn’t even like to call it dead, and apparently they were all tiny particle souls inside that infinity stone but it doesn’t matter because that’s a whole other can of worms and he gets more tired and more weary every time he even thinks about any of that. 

He swung right into a wall the other day. Slap right into it. He almost broke his nose again. He feels like that might have been the moment Tony decided on this vacation—Peter could tell by the look on his face when he told him that he’d crossed some kind of line. 

They walk inside the main lobby of Mohonk and Peter keeps hearing Ben’s voice in his head. You’re gonna catch flies, Pete. But he can’t stop gaping at everything. Like…he’s been in a Hilton and this is so much better than a Hilton. 

“This place looks straight out of a Hitchcock movie,” May says, and she knocks Tony on the arm.

Tony laughs, and Pepper turns around, raising her eyebrows at May. “Let’s just hope we don’t have any Hitchcock-type events happen while we’re here.”

“What would that mean?” Ned asks, catching up to the group and trying to whisper in Peter’s ear. “You’ve seen Hitchcock movies. I remember you watched that weird apartment one a hundred times.”

“I love that movie,” Peter says. Rear Window. He never wants his leg to be broken. He knows he’d go insane just like that.

“You haven’t seen Psycho?” MJ asks Ned, hoisting her backpack higher on her shoulder.

Ned hums a little bit. “No. I know about it though. No crazy Grandmas for me.”

“That’s not what happens.”

Leather couches and tall ceilings and intricate carpeting and columns and everything somehow looks really rich but really comfortable at the same time—

“No,” Tony says, turning around and pointing at them. “No, no, and no.” He points at May too. “No. No Rear Window, no Psycho, no Vertigo—maybe a little bit North by Northwest—no, you know what, no. Not that either. This is going to be the lamest movie you’ve ever—this isn’t even gonna be a movie, there’s no—there’s no plot, this is just—a family video. A home movie. That’s it.”

Family video feels warm, and Peter grins.

“Of course, Mr. Stark—”

“It’s gonna be fine—”

“Absolutely nothing—”

“Listen, I’m hitting that buffet—”

“I’m just gonna sleep,” Peter says, as they approach the huge front desk. “Just the entire time.”

Tony smiles softly at him, and he winks. “You deserve it,” he says, and Peter can tell that he means it. 

They hear crashing, something that sounds expensive hitting the ground somewhere behind them, and they all turn around and see a bunch of employees running around to try and take care of it. A whole big production and two guys trying to hold up a big bear statue that’s trying to fall over.

“Okay, step to,” Happy’s voice says, and Peter hears him before he sees him, and then he breezes by, striding out in front of them. “Let’s go, come on, follow me, let’s get this in the books—”

“Oh, there he is,” Tony says, patting him on the shoulders. “There he is.”

~

Peter and May could never afford a vacation like this. They could never even afford to imagine something like this. Peter feels like they would have charged him if he’d even looked at photos of this place. A big, historic, mountain resort in upstate New York, on the edge of a cliff overlooking a lake? 

But now they’re here. They’re here with Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. Peter was able to bring two friends. Happy drove them all in a big plush rental van. They’ve got a line of suites on the sixth floor and they had steak and lobster for dinner on their first night. 

It feels unreal. But things feel unreal a lot. Especially things involving Tony, involving Spider-Man. Any of it. Like he’s having a long, prolonged dream before Ben wakes him up for school.

Peter stands on one of the terrace balconies with Tony while the others are arranging activities for tomorrow, and he stares off at the lake and the way the moon hits it. Light rippling on the water. 

“You really think you’re gonna sleep the whole time?” Tony asks, leaning on the railing. “Because nobody would judge you for it. Kayaks can wait. Ballroom dancing can absolutely wait, as can all of May’s Dirty Dancing comparisons, because I can feel them building up, like an aura around her—”

Peter snorts. “No,” he says. “But I probably will mostly just…relax. Take it easy. Just sleeping, no alarms—”

“You deserve it, like I said,” Tony says. “It’s thrilling to me that you’re even giving yourself a break.”

“Look who’s talking,” Peter says, giving him a look. “You were trying to get down to the workshop when your arm was still holding on by one string of muscle.”

Tony’s entire face contorts. “That is a terrible, disgusting image, Mr. Parker—”

Peter snorts again, choking on his laughter. 

Tony knocks him on the arm. “You’re awful, a menace, making fun of an injured old man—”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but it’s true,” Peter says, swatting him back, and still laughing. “You’re the one who needs—needs this. Like Happy always says, I’m a ‘spring chicken’, I—I can bounce back.”

“I had enough bedrest for the next ten years,” Tony says, and he’s giving Peter that look again. Concern. Like he’s trying to read his mind. “You—I know you like to act like it all doesn’t affect you, but you were going through hell on the daily before that purple asshole snapped his fingers. Then there was all that, and the right after that, and the coming back from that, and me wasting away in front of you—and then Quentin Beck flaunting his dickheaded tendencies on your school trip—that was supposed to be your relaxing time and it got away from you too and I just—like I said, you deserve your time. You need it. Don’t—you’re not selling yourself short if you say you need some rest. You put everybody first all the time, yourself last—you deserve to relax, that’s all.”

Peter blows out a breath. He doesn’t even really try to deny it in his head anymore. He doesn’t try to compare himself to other people who have it worse. He’s tired. He’s beat. He feels older than he is. 

Tony clicks his tongue and looks out at the lake. “I know this place is kind of old, kind of dated, rooms kind of look a little bit like grandma was head decorator, but—I, uh—I’ve got fond memories here. Mom used to bring me, when Howard was, uh…in some of his dicier moments. And sometimes we’d just relax, too. Recover from…knowing him.”

Peter is just kind of staring at him, because it always takes him off guard when Tony starts talking about Howard. They’re close enough now that he hears stories about his personal life all the time—his growing up, his insane college years with Rhodey, meeting Pepper meeting Happy and everything in between, but Howard is still…something they don’t really talk about, past flippant comments about Tony striving to be a better father figure than he ever was. 

“Then I’m glad you brought us here,” Peter says, his voice cracking a little bit. “I’m glad you brought me here.” And in his head he hears I’m glad you brought me back. Because he thinks about that all the time. 

Everyone’s back because of you, Peter. He never gave up on bringing you back. It was about saving you.

Tony looks like he’s about to say something else when there’s a bunch of rustling in the trees below them, and a loud thump, and more rustling. They both peer over the railing, and Peter can see the trees moving, but not anything else.

They share a wary look.

“Probably just a skunk,” Tony says.

“Oh, great.”

“Or maybe a band of feral cats.”

“Okay that’s better. Hopefully not too feral. Like, I hope they’re receptive to petting.”

They keep staring down at the trees, but it all seems quiet again.

~

Tony and Pepper have one room, Peter, MJ and Ned have the one in the middle, and May and Happy are on the end in a single room together even though Peter is refusing to acknowledge what that means or what might be going on in there. Tony mentioned that the rooms were dated, but they feel more like what a royal castle might look like inside, and for the longest time Peter is worried about wrinkling up the sheets. And then eventually it’s Ned’s snoring keeping him awake.

And then, when he’s finally mostly asleep—

“Peter.”

MJ’s voice. Peter’s in the bed with Ned and she got the other huge bed all to herself, but she sounds like she’s right next to him. He turns over onto his side, towards her voice, and then she’s—

On the ground right next to his face—

He startles a little bit, and she grabs his hand.

“MJ what—”

“There’s someone in the room.”

She’s whispering, and his heart speeds up a little bit. What the hell? There’s no way.

“Are you sure it’s not Happy?” Peter asks, as Ned lets out a rip of a snore. “Sometimes he likes to do perimeter checks—”

“It’s not Happy!” she whisper-yells.

Peter blinks, and she’s already pulling the sheets off him and yanking him out of bed, and he feels like he’d be more paranoid if something was actually happening, like he’d feel it pulsing and burning in his head, and she’s tugging on him and they’re stumbling over to the wall and—

“MJ—MJ—”

She flips on the light—

And Peter only sees him briefly—a man, standing over by the bathroom, and Peter barely gets to see what he looks like before the lights go out again. 

But he wasn’t Happy he wasn’t Tony he wasn’t supposed to be here, and Peter’s heart rockets into his throat and he hears MJ gasp and he hears feet moving and Ned is still snoring, and Peter rushes towards where the man was and tries to catch him tries to fight, but he only meets open air. 

MJ yanks the door open and she’s already running out into the hallway, yelling Tony’s name, yelling for Peter to follow her. And the hall light is streaming into their room now, and Peter looks around, breathing hard, trying to find the guy—

Nothing. Nothing.

Nobody’s here.

Ned is still snoring.

~

Tony stands next to Peter while the manager shows them the video footage. He watches their doors, completely still and closed from the hallway cameras, and then he watches MJ race out, and Tony and Happy run in a few minutes later. Followed by Pepper and May a few minutes after that. And then Ned finally looming out into the hallway, still half asleep.

“As you can see,” the manager says. “No one entered the room.”

Peter can feel Tony’s anger simmering beside him, and he takes it as a compliment that Tony is all-in on believing that they saw someone, even though he didn’t see him himself.

“Can I get the outside view again?” Tony asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Of course, Mr. Stark.”

They switch to the outside view again, which they’ve already seen about three times. The cameras aren’t great out there, and Happy found out they’re in the process of an upgrade. Peter can see their floor from a distance, he sees a little flash of light that they can’t identify, and then nothing else. No one scaling the building. Not in a way they can see, anyway.

“When will the upgrade be complete?” Tony asks, his tone clipped.

“After your stay, sir, unfortunately.”

Tony huffs, and doesn’t say anything else, and he turns and takes Peter’s arm and leads him to the door. They walk out into the hallway, where MJ and Ned quickly back up.

“Don’t need to listen through the wall,” Tony says.

“Uh, we weren’t,” MJ says. “We were just—”

“Looking at the wallpaper,” Ned says. “It’s—so cool.”

“Uh huh,” Tony says. He moves so they’re in a little circle, and he grips Peter’s shoulder. “Do you want to leave?” he asks, looking around at the three of them. “Because we can leave. We can go somewhere else, figure something else out. Or we can move rooms, we can go down to the Grove Lodge so we can all be closer together—we can do whatever we want.”

Ned’s eyes go wide. “I mean, I didn’t see anything, I was sleeping—”

“It’s fine,” MJ says, fast, glancing at Peter. “I feel like we—Peter and I must have been—I mean, we’re—everything that happened, we’re always thinking about it, and Mysterio was about like—making us think we were seeing things that weren’t there or were there but different—it’s fine. Joint hallucination. Or maybe I made him think he saw something because I was saying I saw something.”

That would normally be a Tony joke cue, but he just looks at her intently. “You don’t have to make excuses,” he says. “I don’t want you guys feeling…unsafe. Despite the presence of, uh—enhanced individuals. Unnamed.”

“It’s okay,” MJ says, and she looks at Peter and nods. 

Tony looks at him too. And Peter knows that if he said anything about being worried, Tony would move them in an instant.

What the hell did he see? 

Were they really just tired?

Did he think he saw something because MJ thought she saw something?

“It’s okay,” he says, slowly, because…he isn’t entirely sure. But MJ seems sure and Peter doesn’t want to blow up the trip if they were just in a PTSD-addled nightmare. It is their first real vacation since that shit with Beck happened, it still feels like a knife in his gut sometimes.

“You sure?” Tony asks, and he shakes Peter’s shoulder a little bit.

Peter looks at MJ, and she nods at him. 

“Yeah,” Peter says. “I’m sure.”

~

They go back to bed after that without any more incidents, but Peter mostly stays awake, staring off into the darkness. MJ is awake too, through a lot of the night, and they text because Ned is sleeping and snoring like there’s nothing wrong and there’s never been anything wrong, ever.

I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

I wouldn’t let anything happen to you either. Nerd :)

Over breakfast, Tony lets them know that Happy is setting up Friday to do sweeps and is doing his own personal perimeter checks.

“I want him to enjoy his break too though,” Peter says, pushing his waffle around on the plate.

“He’s enjoying it,” May says, through a mouthful of eggs.

Peter frowns at her. “I don’t like that. I don’t—I don’t need—”

She shrugs. “Well.”

“Okay, Miss Kiss and Tell,” Tony says, laughing as Pepper sits down next to him. “But it’s good. He’s on it, and I’m on it too.”

“Here,” MJ says, coming back from the buffet and sitting down next to Peter. She puts a cinnamon bun on his plate, smiling at him. “They just brought them out. Ned is trying to barter for more.”

“They can’t deny him,” Pepper says. “It’s all inclusive.”

“Exactly,” Tony says. “And after last night, we should be getting extra—I still think they sent someone in to check on something and didn’t want to admit it. I’m not gonna go all I’d like to speak to the manager on them, even though I did—do that—but either way—”

Peter hasn’t landed anywhere on it yet. He keeps trying to think back on it, trying to remember exactly what he saw. His spider sense, newly minted, is usually pretty bang on if something isn’t right, if he feels like he’s in danger, but he’d just woken up, he’s foggy in the mornings sometimes—

He figures his mind was just playing tricks on him. But MJ too?

She rubs his leg, like she knows he's agonizing over it, and he reaches down and holds her hand.

“Okay,” Ned says, walking back over holding a plate. “They let me take five of them. They’re all really warm and gooey, I feel like this is a promising start to the day.”

~

Peter isn’t exactly a spa guy, so he doesn’t join May and Pepper when they decide to go there, even though he feels like it might help him if he ever figured out how to relax. But going there is supposed to help him relax, so how can he ever relax enough to get to the point of going there—either way, he goes out onto the lake with Tony and Ned and MJ.

MJ and Peter both get their own kayaks, and Ned and Tony are in a canoe.

“He wouldn’t get into one of these,” Tony yells. “Honestly, if Happy’s not still doing security shit, he’s probably golfing. He’s terrible at it and he never likes to do it when anybody he knows is around. I’ll message him in a little bit and make sure but that’s probably where he is. Ned. You have to keep that thing on just in case we turn over.”

Peter snorts, looking back at them, and he sees Tony adjusting Ned’s lifejacket on his shoulders.

“Happy’s just afraid of racing,” Peter yells, cutting his oar through the water. “MJ remember when—”

“Yes,” she says, a little out ahead of him, and she’s already laughing. “I don’t even know why he was trying to chase you in New York traffic. While you were swinging in the air above him. You didn’t have any cars in your way, nothing was stopping you—”

Peter snorts again, bending over and laughing a little bit. “He was so mad. He didn’t talk to me for a week. He made me talk to Friday specifically.”

“I gave him shit for that!” Tony yells. “He shouldn’t have been trying to chase you. The gas leak had nothing to do with you. He’s always tossing blame around willy nilly.”

“Yeah he still blames me for the time those columns collapsed on that old garbage building,” Ned says. “A line of code can’t do that, that building was old I didn’t do anything there was no way he should have yelled at me at all let alone for twenty minutes—”

“He’s just dramatic,” Tony says.

“He just gets worried,” Peter says, glancing over his shoulder at their boat. And Ned makes big eyes at him, because yeah, uh, they’ve seen why he gets worried. They’ve dealt with why he gets worried. And now, after last night, Peter feels like he’s making himself worried. He needs to stop, they’ve already moved past it, they’re still here, it’s all fine.

“Yeah, I imbued him with a worrying virus that will never be cured,” Tony says. “And now the next generation has to deal with it. Here we are.”

Peter shakes his head, smiling. He’s gotta relax. The sun is shining on the lake bright and beautiful, and May is actually getting a massage for the first time in years and everything is fine. It’s fine. 

He hears Tony chastising Ned again about his life jacket, gently, and Peter starts rowing out and around the outside of the lake. They’re the only ones out here right now, and he wonders how long that’s gonna last. He wonders if that’s something the resort set up, because it’s Tony, because of what happened last night, because Happy’s been intimidating people, and Peter simultaneously appreciates it and balks against the special treatment. But he’s with Tony, he should know it’s gonna happen.

He feels like he’s going a little faster than he should be going based on the way he’s rowing, like he’s really moving along. He glances over at MJ and she’s even further away from him, moving in the direction of the hotel.

“We’re not racing yet!” he yells, and he feels like Happy—constantly worried. But he’s worried about her in a different way and actually starting things with her in Europe made the whole thing worth it in a way, and now they’re together and it’s amazing but he’s just so worried all the time.

And now he’s stopped rowing all together, and he should be slowing down, but he’s still moving. Moving….fast. Maybe even getting faster.

Should that be happening? He doesn’t really kayak. He shifts around a little bit and looks down, and feels a little bit tucked in here. 

“Hey!” Tony yells. “You’re moving like you have a motor on you!”

Peter’s brows furrow, because he is, and he’s not rowing, and he should have lost any propulsion at this point, and he looks up and he sees MJ looking back at him, and she’s not moving anymore, and he glances back and both Tony and Ned look concerned—

And he gets the worst feeling in his chest, like an alarm, like his spidey sense but more warped and panicked, and he tries to get up without toppling over, because the kayak is still moving for no reason, speeding along and it’s going faster and faster. He drops his oar, and balances precariously for a few seconds before he leaps into the water.

Bubbles all around him, and muffled calls of his name—

And he’s only submerged for a couple seconds, because of the life jacket pulling him back to the surface, and he comes up just in time to watch the empty kayak lift up into the air, careening into the forest and disappearing into the trees. 

And he floats there, treading water, staring.

“What the fuck?” Ned yells. “Peter? Peter?”

“Peter!” MJ yells.

“Pete, we’re coming!” Tony yells. “Hold on!”

But Peter is just sort of. Staring. Staring off, at where the kayak disappeared. He stares over there. He stares. 

No thoughts, just. Insane.

“Was that supposed to happen?” Peter asks, his voice squeaking. “Is that—MJ you should probably—you shouldn’t be in there if you’re not, uh, prepared to go—flying—did anybody see it explode? Did it explode? Or did it just shatter, uh, well, wooden—wooden kayak, was it wooden? Or plastic? Either way I bet it’s not a full kayak anymore—”

He feels himself being lifted out of the water, and it’s Tony pulling him into the boat. He doesn’t know how they got here so fast but to be honest a kayak just went full fighter jet on him so he can’t be that confused. 

His shock has him gripped and he just sort of lays there like a rag doll as Tony and Ned pull him up, and he sees MJ rowing over to them. Thankfully, she’s still in her kayak, and it’s not—flying through the air.

“Hey, hey,” Tony says, once Peter isn’t in the water anymore. He’s got both arms around him, and Peter is laying against his chest, and Tony is patting his cheek and trying to peer around and meet his eyes. Ned has his hands on Peter’s knees and he’s just staring at him. 

“I just got a defective one,” Peter says, pointing over at the forest. “It’s okay. It was just—a flying one, we didn’t make sure we didn’t get a flying one. I hope MJ doesn’t have a flying one and it’s just not like. On a time delay I don’t know. MJ, just—hurry over here—” He waves her over. He wants her to hurry up. 

“Peter,” Tony says, and he pats Peter’s chest. “Are you alright? Did you twist anything when you jumped out, can you breathe—”

“Are kayaks supposed to do that?” Peter asks, feeling like he can hear his own voice echoing everywhere. “I didn’t think that was, uh, the case—”

“It’s not the case,” Ned says. “No. It’s not. It’s not the case.”

“Peter.”

MJ finally rolls up alongside them—

“I think you should get out of there,” Peter says, pointing at her. “It’s unsafe—”

“Something is going on,” MJ says, and she’s not looking at Peter. She’s looking at Tony.

~

Tony loves this kid, and this is supposed to be a fucking vacation. Tony loves this kid, and he believed him when he thought someone was in his room, even if the hotel was trying to sway them away from the idea. Tony loves this kid, and he just had to watch him abandon his kayak because said kayak was lifting off and destroying itself somewhere on the property. And kayaks don’t just fucking do that.

Tony stands close to Happy, well into his personal space. He’s got his hands on his hips, like a stern stance is gonna bring him any closer to an answer, and Happy sighs.

“I’ve done ten sweeps,” he says. “There’s nothing going on. There’s nobody here that isn’t supposed to be here. We even looked at the remains of the goddamn kayak and I didn’t find anything wrong with it.”

“There was something wrong with it,” Tony says. “It was flying. It was flying, speed wise, without Pete even rowing, and then it was flying, literally, after he had to abandon ship.”

“I know. It was in a million pieces.”

Tony sighs. They moved down to the Grove Lodge after it happened. Nobody told Pepper and May why, because Peter was insisting on not telling May, and he was also insisting on not leaving even though Tony wanted to leave, because if they left then they were leaving danger behind for the poor unassuming Mohonk guests. And if they leave, danger will probably follow them anyway, and Tony doesn’t know what move to make. 

He’s upset, because this was supposed to be a relaxing break for all of them, but especially for Peter, after everything he’s goddamn gone through. He’s upset because this place felt like his place, his haven, a place where he could get away and be secluded and safe, and now something is pursuing them here. Something is trying to hurt them.

“You haven’t found anything?” Tony presses. “Nothing?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Happy says, and he glances back at the front door of the lodge again. “I’m still looking, I’m not giving up, and I think we should be better located down here because we rented out the whole house and I told them not to come in for room service or cleaning or anything. I know we lose the nice high-up view—”

“It’s fine,” Tony says, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s afraid to even be discussing this in public. Anybody could be anywhere listening.

He doesn’t like feeling like he can’t protect these kids. 

“It looks like they’re targeting Peter,” Tony says, as quietly as he can. “And I can’t tell if that’s because of me, that they think—I mean the whole goddamn world thinks he’s my love child at this point, thinks May is my secret mistress or the sister of his secret mother, God knows, I don’t know what the most recent story is. But I can’t tell if they’re targeting him because of me or because of the other thing—”

“And the other thing is worse—the spider thing—”

“I didn’t specify on purpose, Hap,” Tony says, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Right, right—the innocuous other thing—”

“We’re lucky we got out of Europe with the other thing intact—”

“Yeah,” Happy says, shaking his head, and Tony wishes he had been there with him, had been there period. He would have torn Beck in half had he laid eyes on him. 

Why do they always target people he loves? Why not him? Blow him up. Kidnap him. But he guesses he’s been there already. He guesses they’ve done all that and it’s old hat to these assholes to go to him directly.

But this could be about Spider-Man too. There could be people that know who he is. People always find out, no matter how hard Tony tries, and Peter has made plenty of his own enemies. His own gallery of rogues looking to take him down.

“Just don’t tell May, if she asks,” Tony says.

“Oh, and don’t tell Pepper either?” Happy asks, in that stupid voice he uses to make fun of Tony. Tony glares, and Happy glares back. “They know by now something’s going on. They’re not dumb. They’re just not saying anything. But May will beat someone to death with anything she can get her hands on and so will Pepper, so maybe we should be sticking close to them.”

Tony sighs. “I just wanted—”

“I know—”

“And now—”

“I know,” Happy says. “We’re on it. We know it’s real, now, even if these people won’t cop to anything. I’m in their walls. Literally. Maybe I’m doing some things I shouldn’t be.”

Tony steps up onto the porch. “Don’t even tell me.”

“I won’t. But maybe I am.”

~

“Ned, why are you in here while I’m in the bathtub?”

“She’s in here!”

“I’m dating her.”

“Wow, that’s great,” Ned says, not making any move to get up from his spot on the gold lounge chair. “That’s great, I see how things are going. I see what direction we’re heading in.”

Peter scoffs. He warmed up a long time ago, and he’s getting really pruny, but he doesn’t want to get out just yet. He feels like something is gonna happen if he gets out. Like it’s all gonna start up again and maybe the house is gonna explode or their fridge is gonna grow arms and start trying to fight them or something. 

And he isn’t lazy. He’s always ready to fight.

Maybe he’s a little lazy. But not usually. He thought Europe was gonna be a Spider-Man free trip and look how that turned out. And he thought this was going to be calm and relaxing but now it’s become suspicious. And worrying. And he’s torn between leaving and staying and telling May and not telling May and he doesn’t know if she’s in danger too and sometimes he feels like everybody would be safer if he lived out in Alaska somewhere and nobody knew him.

Peter sighs, and MJ rubs his shoulder. Ned is still giving him that look and Peter ignores that look. He’s never been in a little claw-foot tub like this before. Tony doesn’t even have these in the compound. And a bubble bath? He hasn’t had a bubble bath since he was a kid and Ben was still alive. It almost distracts him from… whatever the hell is going on here.

“We’ve got two more days,” MJ says. “And we’re sticking it out.”

“We’re sticking it out,” Peter says. “I got my webshooters, I guess I’ll wear them if we go hiking tomorrow.”

“Someone is gonna push you off a cliff,” Ned says, raising his eyebrows. 

“We’re all going together, so nobody is gonna push anybody,” MJ says. She leans down and presses a kiss to the corner of Peter’s mouth. “Okay let’s leave so he can—get out.”

They both get up, and Peter watches as they argue.

“Oh, you’re not gonna help him?” Ned asks.

“Oh, you’re not?” MJ replies, nudging him as they move towards the door. “I thought that was your job, guy in the chair—”

~

They have dinner in the main building, and Peter watches his back. He only jumps once, when someone drops a tray full of plates, and he winces at the shattering and runs over there to help clean it up before they usher him away. They visit the horses in the stables, and Peter checks every nook and cranny to make sure somebody isn’t hiding in there. They watch May and Happy bust into the late jazz class that’s going on in the ballroom and Peter forgets to do anything because he feels like his face is going to catch on fire from all the blushing.

And he remembers to be paranoid when they get back to the Grove Lodge, and he can tell May is suspicious and they’re all watching him like hawks and he gets worried that Tony is the real target of whatever is happening here and he’s just a distraction. 

He can’t let anything happen to Tony. He can’t let anything happen to any of them.

Or maybe nothing is happening. And nobody was in their room. And the kayak was just—Parker luck. Too much strength, or something. 

He wakes up around three in the morning because he can’t stay asleep, and he sits down in the ‘great room’ and stares out into the darkness of the night. 

“Don’t jump,” Tony’s voice says, but Peter jumps anyway, twisting around and seeing him on the stairs. “You jumped! I said don’t jump! You heard me, I said it—”

Peter snorts, shaking his head. “You can’t just tell me not to jump and expect me not to jump—especially if you’re stepping out of the shadows—”

“There’s no shadows,” Tony says, stepping off the landing. “No shadows. I’m fully illuminated—”

Peter sighs. “You can’t sleep either?”

“Nah,” Tony says, walking over quietly. “Sleep and I, we have a very contemptuous relationship.” He shakes his head. “I just feel like shit because you can’t have a normal vacation. Whatever the hell is or isn’t going on here. You just deserve—Jesus, a full day, at the least, without something happening you have to question.” He sits down next to Peter and lets out a sigh.

“It’s not your fault. At all.”

“I mean—it might be. We’ve seen Europe as an example of very much my fault.”

Peter narrows his eyes at him. “That wasn’t your fault either. You know it wasn’t your fault, idiots blaming you for their own stupidity is not your fault—”

A huge crash outside. It sounds like one of those big weird planters falling over and knocking into the other planters and then it sounds like a bunch of feet shuffling and this isn’t Parker luck, this isn’t a hallucination, this isn’t a kayak doing non-kayak like things—

They both leap out of their chairs. The noises don’t stop and Tony is immediately stepping in front of Peter and holding his arm out, as if to shield him.

“Kid, go back upstairs—”

“No,” Peter whisper-shouts, grabbing his arm as the two of them move forward very, very slowly towards the back porch doors. “You almost died recently—you’re wearing pajamas and a house coat—”

“You don’t even know what a house coat is—”

Another crash, more skittering feet, and Peter focuses—he can hear separate heartbeats from the hearts he loves in this house. Two of them.

“Tony I’ve got my webshooters on—”

“That doesn’t matter you’re wearing pajamas too you’re not prepared—”

And when they’re just close enough to open the door, there’s a flash of bright white light. And Peter closes his eyes against it, and he can feel Tony turning around, trying to block him from it, and it must be more than just light because he hears a loud bang and the windows are shattering and it feels like a cataclysmic boom is pushing them through the air. The two of them fly backwards, and hit the far wall, and the last thing Peter hears before his head snaps back too far is 

GOD DAMMIT ALFIE YOU’RE TWO SECONDS TOO EARLY WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS JUMPING THE—

~

Peter gasps awake. His gasp echoes, and he sits up, and looks around, and he’s…nowhere.

He scrambles to his feet. He’s alone, and he’s nowhere, there’s nothing but blackness and his ears are popping like he’s high up and he sees—

He sees—

A kayak? Flying through the darkness? 

He watches it, cascading like a majestic bird, and he stares at it, and then it just—blinks out of existence. Like it was never even there.

Maybe he’s just dreaming. Maybe he never even woke up and went downstairs and talked to Tony. Maybe none of that happened at all. Maybe he’s still asleep and Ned is snoring somewhere and MJ is saying not beets in the salad in her sleep again and maybe—

God dammit, Alfie, I swear. I swear I’m gonna whack you in the head.

Peter spins around, in the complete darkness. He can see himself, his own body and his hands and his pajamas and his webshooters, like he’s got a spotlight on him. “Hello?” he calls. “What the hell is—whoever that is—”

And then the London Bridge appears huge and massive above his head and he starts to duck, nearly collapsing in on himself, and there’s no way this is actually happening this isn’t real and he shoots a web at it and it goes right through it and it hits—somewhere—somewhere in the darkness, it sticks, it—

ALFIE I THINK THEY’RE BOTH—

I KNOW IT I CAN TELL OKAY I’M NOT MORONIC—

It clicks in Peter’s head. This is someone using Beck’s tech. It’s someone using Beck’s tech. That’s what this is. This is some idiots using his tech and not knowing how to use it properly and—

Peter starts yelling. “Whoever you are, you’re—you’re not good at this—this isn’t gonna work out for you—”

The bridge disappears, and Peter starts running. His spidey sense is going berserk, and he can’t tell where the danger is, what direction, how far. He can’t tell what’s underneath his feet, it feels—crunchy, and a little old, maybe? All he knows is he needs to get the hell out of this illusion. It feels unstable.

He starts shooting his webs everywhere, and most of them fly away without hitting anything, and that makes him wonder where the hell he could be with so much space—

STARK IS DOING SOMETHING WITH HIS AI—

Peter’s heart lurches.

“Tony!” Peter yells, still running, and he holds his hands out and tries to find something, anything, and he shoots webs fucking everywhere, and then—

SHIT—

He runs right into someone. And they push him off, and then he gets a brass-knuckled fist to the face before he can get a hit off of his own. He stumbles backwards through the sharp pain, wrestling with the instinct to just fight even though it’s only darkness all around him and he can’t see who the hell he’s fighting with. 

Instead, he spits out a line of blood and keeps running.

Pulsing, face pulsing, beating with ripped skin and metal—

A massive kayak blips into the air briefly, and then it disappears.

Peter narrows his eyes, shaking his head, and what the hell is with the kayak—

He runs smack into something, like a train going accordion against a wall, and he stumbles backwards again, clutching at his crushed nose and trying to stay on his feet. The punch and the goddamn running into whatever that was has him dizzy, has him mangled and seeing stars in this manufactured darkness and then he hears Tony hollering his name at the top of his lungs—

“Peter! Peter!”

He sounds like he’s behind him—

“Tony!” Peter yells, all nasally. “Tony! Hey I’m over here—”

He turns around, changing his trajectory. And the darkness blips, breaking in large pixels, and Peter keeps running towards Tony’s voice and the darkness blips again, turns bright white, and then—

The illusion, or lack of one, breaks all at once, and Peter can see—

He’s on the roof of the main Mohonk building—he can see the lake, and the forest, and the mountains, settled in the calm of the night that feels decidedly not calm for him in particular, and he skids to a halt because he’s nearly running off the roof—

And he feels someone grab his arm and tug him back, and he spins around and it’s Tony, thank God it’s Tony—

“Hey!” Tony yells, and Peter looks at him and grabs his arm and they both look up and—

There are just two guys standing there. Two guys, both on the shorter side, definitely unkempt, and they’re holding a little gray box and they’re both just hitting it and hitting it and hitting it—

Peter aims his webs and just starts shooting. He feels like he shoots the most amount of webs he’s ever shot. The two guys fly backwards and get stuck to one of the upraised red parts of the roof, and they’re both gritting their teeth and trying to get out like they’re Scooby Doo villains.

“They must be associated with Beck,” Peter says, trying to catch his breath. His entire mouth tastes like blood. “They’ve gotta be.”

“I figured, with their shitty illusion attempts,” Tony says, and he sounds angrier than Peter’s ever heard him. He glances at Peter, starts to glance away, but then he looks at him again, fast, his brows furrowing severely. “Jesus Christ, you’re—bleeding everywhere—”

“Yeah, it feels—it doesn’t feel good—they didn’t hit you?” Peter asks.

Tony takes Peter’s chin gently, tilting his head and wincing. “No,” he says. “They didn’t goddamn hit me—”

“Well, the nose was from—running into something—I think that, uh, I think that’s a chimney over there, I think I ran into it—you didn’t run into anything—”

“No, I didn’t—”

“Oh, that’s great—”

Tony looks like he’s about to breathe fire, and he lets go of Peter and starts stomping towards the webbed bad guys.

“Why the hell would you be loyal to a moron like him?” Tony asks. “Beck? He couldn’t even keep a job at Stark Industries—”

“Yeah, buddy, because you stole his idea,” one of them hollers. They’re both still wiggling around, trying to get out.

Tony sneers. “He worked for my company executing an idea I designed and commissioned and decided to weaponize it when it was created to help deal with trauma and mental health—have you never had a job, an occupation—you know what, I don’t care, I don’t care—”

“Well he didn’t say that, he didn’t say any of that exactly,” the other guy says, the one with the longer hair. “He just said—”

“Nothing he says is true,” Peter yells, wincing when he touches his nose. “That guy is a liar, and a freak, and you believed him enough to follow us on vacation and—screw up every attempt you made to kill us—it was one of you guys in my room—”

“No, that was just testin’, that was just—we was just testin’, it was—you guys acted really dramatic—”

Peter scoffs. “Dramatic?”

And the two guys start giving each other nasty looks, even though they’re webbed shoulder to shoulder. “Maybe if you hadn’t dropped that dart gun in the lobby when they first got here—”

“Maybe if you hadn’t fallen out of the tree—”

“Maybe if you had made the goddamn kayak explode instead of fly—”

“Stop!” Tony yells, cutting his hands through the air like an angry teacher. “Stop. Stop. I’ve never wanted to hear Boston accents less. Stop. You’re arrested. We’ve arrested you.”

“You can’t do that, the Avengers aren’t cops,” the shorter one says. He’s got a tattoo on his neck that says GOLDBARES with a Haribo bear icon and Peter squints at it and he feels like his entire face hurts worse just from seeing it.

“You’ve committed several crimes,” Tony says, still pointing at them. “It’s—my personal security already—”

There’s a click. A very loud click. And both guys clam up real quick.

“What was that?” Tony asks.

Peter’s spidey sense is—ratcheting up, clear into his teeth—

“Tony!” he yells, because it feels like something is coming, and, just like in the Grove Lodge, there’s a big boom and they’re blown backwards by a seismic wave—

And they’re launched off the roof, and it feels like they’re moving in slow motion, through the dead dark of the night and the reflection of the lake, and Peter screams like a moron. He just screams, and then he shoots a web right at Tony and pulls him in with it, and then he shoots a web at the building and swings back around with him. 

They don’t land well, because Peter’s brain is on the backburner and there’s nothing on the front, and they roll in a heap, Peter tucking his face into Tony’s shoulder. When they come to a halt Tony pulls back, sitting up and touching Peter’s cheek.

“You in there?”

“I’m in there. Here,” Peter says, and he feels like he’s bleeding worse, somehow. “Did they blow up? Did those guys blow up? It sounded like they blew up.”

“We didn’t blew up we’re still over here but maybe I wish we woulda blew up because—”

And they start shouting at each other, but Peter tries to tune them out.

“Thank God you brought those things,” Tony says, tapping Peter’s wrist. “Thanks, bud.”

Peter blows out a breath, shaking his head and still just. Laying there. “Oh yeah, no problem. All good, just—completely normal.”

Tony sighs, and his eyes cut to the side. “Any other late traps ready to explode?” he yells, over his shoulder.

They stop arguing with each other. There’s a brief silence. 

“Uh. I honestly got no idea. We just brought the whole bag of tricks, I don’t know. There’s shit everywhere.”

Tony looks at Peter, slowly shaking his head.

“Fantastic,” Peter says. “Wonderful.”

~

“So, you weren’t in there watching us when we were getting our nails done in the spa?” Pepper asks. “I thought it was weird. I told May it was weird. That was these guys—”

Tony scoffs, and he feels like he instantly gets a headache, a migraine—

“Of course I wasn’t—of course—you thought I was just standing there? Staring at you in the spa? You didn’t think that was out of the ordinary—”

Pepper gives him a look, and Peter laughs from the hammock behind them.

“Yeah, when I went to get my nails done later you kept walking in and out,” Happy says. “But I thought you were just—I don’t know what I thought. But then you told me about the kayak thing later and I thought—well—I attributed it to that.”

“Happy went and got his nails done,” Ned whispers, somewhere behind Tony, too. “We could do that?”

“Who’s stopping you?” MJ says, quiet.

“Well, the whole—the whole situation stopped me, I guess, but I didn’t really think about it—”

“I’m glad it wasn’t you staring at us,” May says, standing near the railing and peering out into her binoculars. “Pepper said it was normal, but it was concerning me.”

Tony glares at Pepper, but she just bats her eyes at him like the picture of innocence.

“Sometimes Peter does that to me,” May says. “Just stares at me from behind a Lucky Charms box in the kitchen. That’s how I know something’s wrong.”

Tony snorts, and he turns around as soon as Peter starts protesting.

“I do not!” Peter says, shifting around in the hammock. “I do not do that.”

“It sounds like something you’d do,” Ned says.

“You’ve done that to me,” MJ says, clearing her throat.

Peter huffs, and everyone laughs at him, and Tony tries not to laugh too hard, because this started with his own wife acting like she thinks he’s capable of acting like some weirdo who stands around staring at people.

Tony sighs. He turns around, walking over and peering down at Peter. He braces his hand on the tree his hammock is attached to. “How’s the nose?” Tony asks.

“Broken.”

“It’s not broken anymore, we reset it.”

“It knows it was broken. I know too.”

He’s still got the butterfly bandages on the bridge of his nose, and it’s bruised and angry looking. He’s got a burst blood vessel in his eye, and the white part is dipped with red. Tony feels like shit because he got out of the whole ordeal relatively unscathed. Just a few bumps and bruises. Some whiplash. But Peter broke his nose again.

They hiked up to the Sky Top Tower, and the kids wanted to hang out once they got up here. They all thought Peter had earned the hammock. Happy refused to come, and he’s in charge of the security situation, anyway, so he couldn’t exactly abandon it to do a hike he didn’t want to do. 

They had to clear the whole damn resort out to get rid of any remaining traps and illusions. Tony had to bring in a whole team. Rhodey made fun of him on the phone when Tony told him, laughing for a good five minutes.

And sure, it’s stupid. Those guys are stupid and they had no idea what the hell they were doing, they couldn’t even attack properly. But that’s what happens when stupid people follow more powerful stupid people. They hold grudges. They make up shit in their heads. They cause problems.

And it’s never really funny when Peter is bloody at the end of it.

“I feel like I’m sinking,” Peter says, his brows furrowing.

He reaches out his hand, and Tony takes it, and he pulls him out of the hammock as MJ and Ned push on his shoulders. Peter groans like he’s a hundred years old, and Tony claps him on the shoulder.

May looks away from her binoculars. “How you doing, honeybunch?”

“Fine,” Peter says, letting go of Tony’s hand. “Incredible. Amazing.”

“Just a normal day for a hero,” Pepper says. “MJ, you’ll get used to it, May, you’ll never get used to it—”

“And Ned,” Ned says to himself. “You will be there every step of the way.”

Tony looks at Peter, and he wants to apologize. For all of it, for being a hero at all, for the goddamn radioactive spider at Oscorp and everything that came after. For stupid morons like Quentin Beck, who know the quickest way to hurt Tony is to attack this kid he’s nearly adopted as his own.

He doesn’t know what the hell to say, because Peter wouldn’t accept his apologies anyway. He never would. Peter is just appreciative of every moment. Even if the moments aren’t ideal.

“We’ve got the whole place to ourselves,” Tony says. “How about we have a pie bar when we head back down there? I can tip the kitchen staff two hundred percent when I ask. I don’t think anybody would be pissed off.”

He sees May smiling softly at him over Peter’s shoulder. Trust in her eyes, even after all this bullshit.

“Can there be…at least four key limes?” Peter asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Four or five,” Tony says, ruffling his hair. “Or six or seven. Depending on the number of ovens in the joint.”

Peter grins at him, still bright and lively, despite everything.

Maybe they can salvage this vacation yet.

[hurtspideyparker]

Peter Parker's Guilt Complex

Uncle Ben died because he didn't step up. If he isn't using his powers for good, then he's using them for bad. There is no neutrality for him, no stepping away from Spider-Man. We see this shown in Captain America Civil War:

"when you can do the things that I can, but you don't, and then the bad things happen? they happen because of you"

Peter takes responsibility for the city of New York's safety all in his own back. Tony Stark validates him as a hero by having him fight alongside and against the Avengers, which fuels his belief that he's able to take on more than petty crime (when Tony doesn't provide anything more high-stakes, he takes his own risks. if bigger, badder things are out there and he isn't there to stop them? his fault.)

He can't step away, even for his own safety (his fault his fault his fault)

When he nearly dies in that collapsed building in homecoming it becomes glaringly obvious that there are no other heroes coming to save him. Even Peter Parker needs Spider-Man to save him; this only hammers in the idea that he can never rest as a hero, because then who else will save the city?

Peter drops his extracurriculars, stops hanging out with his friends. He becomes consumed with his hero identity (no breaks no time what if they need me what if there's danger what if I was having fun or doing homework while someone was dying?).

Then Peter becomes an Avenger, fights in a war, and loses people. Loses Tony. He's 16 and he just saved the world - so he takes a break. Goes to Europe with his class. Aunt May snuck the Spider-Man suit in his bag; the red and blue follow him like a ghost and he's haunted by expectations to save the world, to be the next Stark.

And Fury is there to remind him once again what a failure he is (step up, fight, no breaks. my fault my fault my fault). And for the first time in his career he considers that maybe the world is better without Spider-Man. Maybe he just makes things worse.

Beck is better. Beck will fix things. Peter chooses to be just a little selfish for once and hands over the Stark legacy to someone more qualified so he can go kiss a pretty girl.

It backfires; Peter's guilt nearly swallows him whole. Not only did he shit on everything great Tony thought he was, but now he's handed a super weapon to the latest villain hell bent on killing him and his friends (the people around me get hurt the people I care about the people that I put in danger my fault my fault my fault).

When his identity is revealed maybe a small part of him thinks he deserves this. The public may have the details wrong but in the end they're right, he's a fraud and a danger. He hurts the people he loves, lets them down and puts them in harm's way.

Ned and MJ can't get into MIT because of him, he tries to fix it. He messes up the spell, he tries to fix it. May dies and he can't fix it (my fault my fault my fault).

He lets them go. Blinded by his guilt he can no longer see the light and love he brought into people's lives, only the darkness he's stained them with. He cuts the strings and along with it goes some of the guilt that weighs him down, but where the guilt resided is now a gaping hole of loneliness, his chest as hollow as the apartment he now lives in.

On nights where he misses Ned's laughter, and MJ's witty comments, May's hugs, and working in Tony's lab, he still hears the voice in his head reminding him my fault my fault my fault. Though instead of guilt it only brings melancholy and resignation. This decision has to be the right one because the only person it's hurting is himself.

Peter Parker was a guilty man. So he gave up everything he had until there was nothing left to be guilty for.

Peter Parker is a selfless man.

[aurumacadicus]

were u sad by the beginning? were u touched by the story? were u moved by the main characters personalities? tell us more.

Pixar said "What if we made found family for a grumpy old man that consisted of a child whose father is absent and a dog who can talk (and exclusively uses this simply to tell that grumpy old man "I love you")" and I ate that up with a spoon. Anyway.

--

Peter sighed, leaning his cheek on his hand. Saturday number eight ruined, just like the seven before it. "You know, at this point, my advisor would accept me taking out your trash as community service."

"Don't have trash," Steve grumped, not turning from his television.

Peter scowled, even though he knew it was true. For some reason, Steve was really into recycling and composting. It wasn't a bad thing, of course, but it left him with a whopping three things to throw away during the week (the nurses had told him), which he stuffed in his friend's wastebasket when he joined them for dinner on Thursdays. He didn't need to be pushed around in a wheelchair, he didn't need his sparsely decorated apartment cleaned or reorganized, and he didn't need anyone to cook for him.

Which was his problem. Steve had been his assigned elder when his community service advisor had had the bright idea for their class to help out a senior home, and he had nothing for Peter to do. Ned had gotten a neat old lady named Peggy, and MJ had gotten the terrifying but cordial couple next door, Natasha and Bucky. Hell, even Flash had gotten a jovial old man who sometimes insisted he was Norse god. And here Peter was. With Steve.

Now, granted, his advisor had offered to pair him with someone else a couple weeks ago, but Peter had decided he was going to out-stubborn Steve. He had time. Steve didn't. Steve would have to break eventually.

"I could go get you an organic blueberry smoothie," Peter offered, just to see what would happen.

"No," Steve answered, not looking at him.

Peter glanced around the apartment. "I could... take your laundry to the laundry room?"

"No," Steve said again.

Peter's eyes caught on a worn paperback sat spread on the coffee table. "I could get you a couple more of those thrillers."

"No," Steve said, and began to puff up, like he had every other time before he told Peter in no uncertain terms to stop trying to help him and go away.

"If you really wanted to help him," Sam said, amused, as he came into the apartment with a to-go bag from the diner two blocks away. "You'd find his boyfriend for him."

"Sam," Steve barked, at the same time Peter bolted to his feet and exclaimed, "Captain Rogers has a boyfriend?!"

"I don't," Steve told him sharply, then scowled at Sam, more sourly than he usually did when Sam dropped his forbidden lore. "Stop saying that, Sam."

"Stop being a sourpuss and let Peter get his community service credit then," Sam scoffed, pulling out a burger and handing it to him.

Steve looked like he'd sucked on a lemon as he took it. It could be at the thought of letting Peter help him, but it could also have been because the diner used waxed wrappers, which meant he couldn't compost them. "No."

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes as he sat down on the couch, giving Peter a 'what can you do' and 'I tried, kid' type of shrug. "Fine, be a miserable old man. I think Peter's stubborn enough that he'll stay until you die, and then he'll take being your pallbearer as his community service."

"It's true," Peter told Steve. "I've got time."

"I like him," Sam told Steve.

Steve took a bite of his burger, probably to keep from gnashing his teeth at them like a wild animal. He looked mad enough.

Sam turned to look at Peter. "Listen. Steve has been hung up on this guy for years. You find that guy, I'll sign off on your community service credit."

"I need Captain Rogers' signature," Peter said.

Sam shrugged, finally turning to his own burger. "I know how to forge it." He patted the couch beside him as Steve tried to squawk and, instead, choked on a pickle chip. "Come on, kid. I got you a burger too."

"Okay," Peter answered with a shrug, coming over to sit down. It would probably be easier to pump Sam for information than Steve, anyway, and Peter was curious.

He'd heard that Steve and Peggy had once been married, and while they were amicable when they met in the halls, there was no spark to be reignited. Peggy had her family after her second husband had passed, and she'd made fast friends with a lady named Dottie. Steve, on the other hand, had seemed to have isolated himself. He had friends, but he didn't go out to the social stuff, which a lot of the ladies tittered was 'quite a shame!' as they winked at each other.

But if Steve was hung up on someone, that was interesting. Steve might be stubborn, but he had nothing on Peter. Peggy had said so, and while it made Peter wonder what all Ned had told her about him, it also bolstered him. He'd help Steve. He'd get his community service credit. And maybe he'd get Steve's respect.

[prismuffin]

Hey hey it’s me again lol. Can I request (Comic one where he’s an adult) Peter Parker x M!Reader who is a detective? Maybe he keeps visiting him during work and Reader has to remind him that he’s working. I want to thank you for taking my requests and I love reading your stuff. 🫶

A/n: awww this idea sounded so cute I love it😭 sorta a long one, im sorry?? idk if thats a bad thing

Distraction

Peter B. Parker x male!detective!reader

( summary: when your boyfriend Peter comes to drop off your lunch he decides to bother you for the rest of the day instead of leaving )

Warning?: light swearing, talk of guns, slight violence

!-!more under the cut!-!

After the events of spider-verse Peter had tried to fix his old life, make amends with Mary Jane and become the hero that New York needed once again, only it didn't entirely work out that way. He had tried to go back to MJ only to see that she was in a whole new relationship; he still talked to her though, told her the things he should've said years ago and she consoled him, told him to move on in his life and find someone new. So he did, he moved on and started working out a bit more, started showing up and stopping crime again which led him to meeting you.

You were a successful detective working for and with the NYPD, solving cases before and after they happen, so you hung around Spiderman a lot. You two would have playful banter whenever you crossed paths. You'd have silent competitions over who could stop and catch the most criminals (it was always gonna be him but you actually do give him a run for his money). He liked you more than he admitted. He was so scared of fucking up again that he just put this distance between you two, leaving his sly, flirty, playful remarks as the only sign of affection he could show you. He hit this rock bottom state again where the only thing he could think about was failing and you and failing you. He'd have nightmares about him not being able to save you, texting you at the dead of night with the number you gave him for emergencies to make sure you're ok. Sometimes you'd scold him for wasting your time or waking you up but he didn't mind. He was stuck in this spiral and one night he decided to stop feeling so conflicted and tell you about how he felt, and he did, just not in the way he wanted to.

You'd been tracking some criminals for months and finally were one step ahead of them, or so you thought. You caught them once but they weren't found guilty. The police station you worked at didn't classify them as a threat because of that and the chief made you drop the case since it seemed to have gone cold, but you knew they were the culprits. You watched a bar from your car, waiting for the men you've been looking for to come out. You needed to catch them in the act so you had decided to stake it out. The bar door opened and your hand went to your gun as you spotted the men leaving. You quickly made sure your gun was loaded before grabbing your phone, texting Peter, or as you knew him, Spider-man your location and what you were doing just in case. You told him if you didn't respond in fifteen minutes to come and help since you weren't entirely sure if you could take the men on in a fight.

Your hunch was correct when you'd in fact lost the fight you had no chance of winning, hell telling Spider-Man not to come save your ass until fifteen minutes into the fight was being very generous for the criminals. Although, Peters worry for you had made him come and help 8 minutes earlier than you said, I mean he would've come earlier if he'd seen your text sooner but still. It was that night, when he had in fact saved you, when he decided to just come clean about his feelings towards you, even if you rejected him; and so Peter decided to take that leap of faith and asked you out which lead to moments like this, where you’re sat at your desk, looking out your window to see your boyfriend on the building next to yours, waving with a lunchbox in hand. You sigh and shake your head, getting up and closing the blinds not only to mess with him but also for your own sanity before sitting back down and turning back to your paper work. Of course your silence only lasted a few more minutes before a knock was heard on your office door. "Come in." You didn't need to look up from your paperwork to guess who it was, "Guess who brought you lunch~?" You couldn't help but smile at the sound of your boyfriends voice. "Thank you Peter," You looked up at him and smiled as he placed a lunch box on your desk.

He'd turned to leave and was at the doorway when he looked back and saw you move the lunchbox off to the side. "Are you not gonna eat it?" You heard Peter ask and your eyes snapped to his before glancing at the lunch box. "I will Petey, I'm just very busy right now." You gave him a close mouth smile and he crossed his arms, looking you up and down before shrugging. "Alright," you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding when Peter just moved on, usually he'd bother you or someth-

Your thoughts were cut off by your paperwork being snatched from your desk. Peter, who'd used his web shooters to grab your paper, looked at you, almost disapprovingly. "You're not getting this back until you eat that lunch. Do you know how much effort I put into making that." You rolled your eyes, but smiled, and grabbed the lunch that he'd packed. He sat down across from you and wasted no time getting comfortable, kicking his feet up and leaning back. "Peter, this is a gyro from Frank down the street, you didn't make this." He looked at you, down at the gyro, and back at you before shrugging. "Still took a lot of effort." You shook your head at his antics "Unbelievable.." You mumbled before taking a bite out of the gyro. The tapping of your pens got your attention as you watched Peter play with them like they were action figures.

Even after you finished eating he wouldn't stop bugging you, poking your shoulders as you wrote and calling you overworked, which was true, but there wasn't much you could do about it. He was usually like this on slow crime days where he found there was little conflict on the streets of New York which would lead to him thinking about you and missing you and then showing up at your job either as Spider-man coming in to "address official crime business," or as Peter Parker to drop off his boyfriends lunch or to give his boyfriend a file he left at their apartment. Though times when he distracts you like this are annoying you still find them sweet since he does this when he misses you.

"Alright," You placed your pen down after being prodded by Peter for the 127th time. "If we cuddle on the couch for five minutes will you leave me alone to do my work?" Peter looked up and hummed to seem like he was thinking before smiling and nodding. "Yeah alright that's fair, but, lets make it ten minutes." "Fine." You got up and Peter cheered, practically leaping on the couch in your office. He opened his arms for you with a large smile on his face and you respectfully plopped right into them. You both let out identical sighs as you snuggled up into each other, your stress melting away as Peter rubbed your back. "ugh god, you're such a distraction Pete.." you mumbled with your eyes closed, the feeling of sleep creeping up on you. Peter just hummed, looking at you with adoration in his eyes. You both were definitely on that couch for longer than ten minutes but neither of you seemed to mind.

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Masterlist

[writeroutoftime]

speak now

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: when peter is getting married, you just want to go and make sure he's happy. but what happens when the officiant asks a very pertinent question?

warnings: none

words: 1.8k

a/n: this is an idea I've had forever, but in honor of taylor's version of the 'speak now' album, I finally finished it! please enjoy!

oOoOo

Leaning against Michelle’s kitchen counter, you glanced down at her pile of mail and noticed a thick, glossy card sticking out. “What’s this?” you asked curiously, moving forward to pull the card out from the pile.

Before you could, Michelle’s hand reached out and snatched the card. “It’s nothing.” she told you, rather unconvincingly.

“Alright.” you conceded, looking the other way before darting your hand out to grab the card from MJ’s unsuspecting hands. “Let go!” you shouted, wrestling the paper into your grasp, letting out a triumphant shout when you won the struggle.

Looking down at the card, your eyes scanned the cursive lettering, quickly noticing it was an invitation, suddenly freezing in your spot. The longer you stared at the invitation, the more you thought your heart was going to break out of your chest with how erratically it was beating. Tears welled in your eyes, yet you did nothing to keep them at bay.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Peter Benjamin Parker and Regina Ann Thompson on August 15, 2023

“y/n.” MJ began, approaching you cautiously, arms open and eyes cast down in pity.

“He’s getting married.” you whispered, more so to yourself than anyone else. “When did you get this?” you asked, spinning around to face your friend. “When did you get this?” you repeated, waving the invitation franticly.

“Three weeks ago.”

Three weeks ago. Definitely too long to blame the postal office for a late invitation. “So, he doesn’t want me there.” you spoke aloud, falling down into a nearby chair.

It wasn’t that you felt you deserved to be at Peter’s wedding or that it was the greatest sin of all times you weren’t invited; but you thought that after everything the two of you had been through he would have at least had the decency to call you – hell even a text would be great – to let you know he was engaged. Once upon a time, the two of you were a couple, and there was a time in your life you imagined that you would be the one to marry Peter. You were so young and in love, oblivious to the world around you and the challenges that threatened your relationship.

As one of Peter’s oldest friends, of course, you knew that he was Spider-Man. In fact, you supported him through it all, never letting it get in the way of your friendship or the feelings you had for him. Eventually, Peter wised up and asked you out, and the rest was supposed to be history. While everything was fine at first, down the road you learned how difficult it was being the significant other of a superhero.

The sweet nothings and soft gazes eventually morphed into harsh words thrown at each other in the middle of the night after long patrols for Peter and constant worrying for you. Secrets built up like skyscrapers and the trust that once existed between the two of you for so long dissolved. Eventually, you figured it was better to stop now before either of you said things you would regret, no matter how much it hurt.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you, y/n. You were just starting to live again, and I don’t want you to hole yourself back up.” MJ explained, wrapping her arms around your frame.

You let her hug you, keeping your own arms limp against your side, the gears in your mind turning and turning. “Take me as your plus one.” you finally said, pulling away to look MJ in the eyes.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please MJ.” you begged. “Let me have, let this be my closure.” you continued, your mouth seemingly working faster than your mind. “I won’t even talk to him or let him know that I’m there. Please, I just want to see that he’s happy.” you cried, voice breaking at the end.

At the end of the day, even if Peter had left you with a broken heart, you just wanted to know that everything worked out for him. Even if you couldn’t be the one to give it to him, Peter deserved his happily ever after. Silently, you pleaded with MJ, your eyes glassy and desperate as she mulled the thought over.

“Fine.” she yielded. “But then that’s it, you have to get back out there and live your life.” she compromised.

“Promise.” you agreed. “He won’t even know that I’m there.”

oOoOo

Weeks later, you found yourself outside a church watching as friends and families eagerly filed in. Your eyes watched as MJ continued inside to her seat up front. She had offered to sit in the back with you, but you urged her to be there to support Peter. Besides, she would find you after the whole ceremony was over and you could make your escape.  

As you waited, your leg bounced, nerves continually rolling through your body. All you wanted was a glance of Peter before the ceremony. Looking both ways with determination, you snuck into the back rooms of the church, searching for where Peter would be waiting. Before you could find him, however, you heard voices coming your way, so you slipped into the nearest empty room, pressing yourself against the wall. Sucking in a breath, you willed yourself to become invisible. But what you heard had you slowly poking your head around the corner.

“What the hell?” a voice shrieked out. “Are you able to do this, or do I need to get someone else to do your job?”

Once glance and you saw the shouts came from Peter’s bride to be – Regina- who stood in front of a trembling bridesmaid, pointing fingers widely. The dress she wore looked as though it came straight out of a bakery, and you had to hold in your laugh. The bridal party walked by the room you were hidden in, and you pushed yourself further against the wall.

A breath of relief escaped your lips, but your heart clenched immediately after. Was this who Peter was marrying? Was this who was going to make him happy for the rest of his life?

Knowing you didn’t have much time left, you hurried into the church and slipped into a pew in the very last row. It wasn’t long before the officiant came out, shortly followed by Peter.

It was like time stopped the moment your eyes landed on his figure, His dark hair gelled back for the occasion, fiddling with his sleeves as he waited. You tried to gauge his emotion – was it a happy-nervous tick or a ‘dear god someone get me out of this’ nervous tick. Before you could think on it anymore, the organ music changed and the bridal procession began as the bridesmaids walked down the aisle before everyone stood as Regina walked out.

While all heads turned towards her, yours stayed on Peter the whole time, analyzing the way he reacted to his almost wife walking towards him. A smile graced his features, but even from far away you could tell the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Was all of this a joke? Was he settling? Looking for a way out?

Your mind raced with all these thoughts as officiant droned on. But something in your heart kept calling to you. Telling you that this wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. Telling you that you had to do something. Even if it was a mistake, you couldn’t live with the ‘what ifs’ that would plague your mind if you stayed quiet. And so, when the officiant called out “…speak out or forever hold your peace” you knew it was your moment.

As if possessed by some unknown force, you peeled yourself off the cold pew and stood among the sea of viewers. A collective gasp rang out through the church at your action, MJ being one of the first to look at you with a ‘are you kidding me’ look on her face. But, more importantly, you caught Peter’s gaze for the first time in months.

His jaw went slack as he stared at you. It had been months since Peter allowed himself to look at you. He had tried to shove everything that happened between you both into the furthest corners of his mind, but it seemed like fate had other plans.  

“What is going on?” Regina demanded, recognition in her eyes as she started you down.

Sweaty palms rested against your thighs, and you knew this was your last chance. With a deep breath, you let it all pour out. “Look, Peter, I am not the type of person who should be interrupting a wedding of all events. But I also know you. And I know that you are not the type of guy who should be marrying the wrong girl.  

“This is selfish of me, I’ll admit that. And if I am completelywrong then say the word and I will walk out of those doors with a smile on my face knowing that you’re happy. Because that’s all I want for you. But if there is even a small part of you that doesn’t want to go through with this marriage, then don’t.” you practically begged, not yet finished.

“You deserve all the happiness in the world, Peter. I know we had our challenges, but we were also something amazing together. So, please, don’t be noble Peter Parker always wanting to do the right thing. Do what you want to do.” you told him, fighting back the tears. “And, again, I know this was awful time, but I was told to speak now, right?” you asked through a watery giggle, staring down the man you loved as if your life depended on it.

There was a heavy silence that blanketed the church over the next few moments. With each second that passed, your heart grew heavier and heavier fearing you made a terrible mistake. Finally, you accepted defeat and began to walk out of the hall. You held yourself tightly, trying not to cry until you made it outside. However, before you could reach the doors, you felt a hand grasp your wrist, spinning you around.

You let out a breathy gasp as you stood face to face with Peter, his lips only inches from yours. It was as if time stood still in that moment, and you had to bite your lip to convince yourself it wasn’t all a dream. Any words you wanted to speak got stuck in your throat, but Peter leaned close to you, his warm breath against your ear caused you to shiver.

“I'll meet you when I'm out of my tux at the back door.” he whispered, nodding ever so slightly in confirmation.

Stumbling back, you left the church and found your way to the backdoor outside, waiting nervously. Nearly 10 minutes passed when the door floor opened, and Peter stood, his tie undone, and his tuxedo jacket abandoned. His hair looked mussed as though he had been anxiously running his fingers through just as you knew he had the habit of.

“Peter.” you breathed out, reaching towards him, nervous he might disappear.

“Did you mean it?” he questioned, grasping you against him tightly.

“What?”

“Did you mean everything you said in there? Are we going to make this work? Tell me I didn’t just walk out of my wedding for nothing.” he begged, also just as scared and vulnerable as you felt.

When words were lost on you, you instead closed the distance between the two of you until your lips met his for the first time in months. Though, it was like no time had passed as you and Peter fell into a familiar rhythm, saying all the apologies and confessions you couldn’t speak aloud. Yes, there was still a lot to work through, but you were together again and that’s all that mattered.

Thank god you were around when they said speak now.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Fun Before (Diaper) Duty

Peter B Parker x Wife!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, Sex, grinding, dry humping, pegging, sex toys, PiV sex, unprotected sex, creampie, talks of pregnancy, trying for a baby, cumming inside with the intent to make said baby, Peter being a whining mess , Dom(?)!Reader, Sub!Peter, (sort of?) no refractory period, drain this mans dryyyy

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: This is an AU of sorts where MJ doesn't exist and the Reader is Peter's Wife. Takes places after the first movie (Obvi). It's just a thing that's been bouncing around in my head and I need to get the brainworm out!!!

(And as usual header does not indicate reader's race)

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It had been some time since you guys ran into your... "problems."

It had been some time since he came home after apparently interacting with someone who changed his mind on what you talked about.

Kids.

Babies.

Having them.

He explained in great detail what happened, how Miles in particular had just... changed him. Woke him up inside, made his inner Papa Bear come out.

It made him realize he did want kids.

And if realizing he actually did want kids was something, Peter B Parker really enjoyed the task of making said kids.

The two of you indulged in it as often as possible, twining together in bed, or on the couch, in the shower, in the kitchen... Once when you met him on a rooftop to bring him some dinner when you were in the area.

Yeah, Peter wasn't much of the "public sex" type, the poor guy. The moment he came inside you he was a blubbering--still hard--mess and he web-slung you two home to make love to you properly. I.e he basically let you pin him to the couch and ride him until he couldn't feel his legs.

Even that Spider-Man stamina had its limits.

More often than not he was out most nights doing his Spider-Man routine, fighting crime, saving people... Even picking up an extra part-time job for some extra cash.

"Y'know, babies are expensive!" Peter had laughed with you over some crappy Chinese takeout.

"I know, but honey..." You sighed, finishing off your noodles nd dropping the chopsticks in the paper container.

"My job pays well, and I even negotiated with my boss so I can work from home from now on. I'll only need to go into the office for meetings or something important, so taking care of a baby is no problem. Our bills are covered, and... You got your hero gig. I don't want you to overwork yourself, Peter."

"Babe." Peter smiled at you sweetly. That same, charmingly goofy smile as he turned to face you on the couch.

"I just wanna make sure we have all our bases covered. I love you, and I wanna make sure our baby has everything they're gonna need."

"C'mon, Tiger." You smiled sweetly at him. "You already work your ass off being a superhero. And we're trying to have a baby, and once that baby is here we're both going to have our hands full."

He brought your knuckles to his lips to give them a kiss. "Which is exactly why I want the extra cash. I want to make sure you two have everything you deserve."

You smile and lean in, brushing your nose against his affectionately.

"I already got you, dummy."

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Two more months passed.

Two more months.

Months of you not getting pregnant yet. Neither of you knew what the problem was, you planned meticulously, tracked your ovulation and menstrual cycles... Hell, you even drank some kind of herbal tea that was supposed to boost fertility. But... No dice.

Your doctor told you it wasn't uncommon, that some people just don't get pregnant on the first few tries.

The difference was that you and Peter tried more than "the first few tries".

It was frustrating, but you held out hope.

You two would be parents. You would.

Peter had even told you he was hoping for a little girl.

He was going to name her Mayday.

🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼

Tonight, you had just gotten out of the shower after getting back from the gym. You were sweaty and gross and ugh, you really needed it after staring at spreadsheets all day.

Your hair was a dripping mess, but you decided to let it air dry.

You put on one of Peter's button up shirts and at the last second, decided to wear the laciest panties you owned and couldn't help but grin.

It would be a nice surprise for Peter when he got home.

After all, what husband wouldn't wanna come home to their wife wearing nothing but one of their shirts and a pair of lacy panties?

And bingo! You were right.

You had your back to him as you downed your glass of juice when he came through the door.

"Hey, Babycakes!" Peter whistled as he locked the door behind him again. "I brought some--"

You heard whatever bags he had in his hands drop, along with his keys.

"....Well." He said, clearing his throat as you turned around, smiling at him slyly.

"Well?" You purr, leaning on the wall.

"I feel a tad overdressed." He mumbled, a blush on his cheeks as he looked down at himself.

"Peter B Parker, is that a blush I see in your cheeks?" You giggle.

"I, uh, uhm--" Peter coughed awkwardly; you could see his Adams apple bob in effort as he swallowed an imaginary lump. Then, he held the bag up.

"Got dinner from the Greek restaurant down the street?"

You smile and shake your head, taking the bag from him as you walk to the couch, opening the plastic containers to see what dinner your wonderful husband brought home for the two of you.

You decide to give Peter mercy, for now, as his shoulders sag and he pulls off his trenchcoat, hanging it on the peg, revealing the Spider-Man suit along with the sweatpants he was wearing.

His choice in hero outfits lately had you endeared to him even more, with his quirky nature.

"Uh, I'm... I'm gonna change, m'kay?" He says, a lopsided smirk on his face, cheeks still just a bit pink.

"Mhmmm." You wink at him as he walks by.

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You finished chowing down on your gyro with a happy hum, wiggling in place as the two of you watch whatever dumb cop show happened to be on.

You snuggled under Peter's arm as he licked his fingers clean of the remnants of his food and rubbed his cheek on the top of your head.

"How was patrol tonight?" You asked him softly.

"Oh, boring, actually. Like, a few purse snatchers but thankfully nothing where anyone got hurt." Peter told you.

"Well that's good, maybe supervillains are deciding to take a vacation for a bit?" You muse playfully.

"Oh, god, that would be amazing." Peter groaned, dropping his head back on the cushions of the couch.

"They go to the annual Villains' Club and are like "You know what? Let's all take a trip to Fiji! Give Spider-Man a break!"

You giggle and kiss his jaw, the stubble of his shadow tickling your lips.

"Yes, I concur." You sigh. "That would be amazing."

There's a pregnant pause in the air before you broke it.

"Though, given that we're trying to have a baby... Id prefer it if all your patrols ended this way. With you safe."

"I know, babe." Peter replies quietly.

"I promise I'll be careful."

You smiles and turned your head into his neck, breathing in every scent that is Peter.

You could feel his body tense when you did that,, see that Adams apple bobbing again as he kept his eyes focused directly on the tv, trying to ignore how your fingers slowly crept up under his tank top slowly; nails tickling the soft skin of his abdomen.

You slipped your fingers down, just barely past the waistband of his pj's and his breath stutters.

He wasn't wearing boxers. Perfect. Makes it that much easier.

"Babe--" Peter said, his voice coming out shaky.

"Hmm?" You asked innocently, ever so slowly slipping your hands down further, gliding through the well-trimmed hairs and stopping just above his rapidly hardening dick.

"You--" He groaned, dropping his head back and closing his eyes.

"Me.... What?" You sigh, wrapping your fingers around his cock, feeling the half-hard mass of silky flesh twitch and come to life in your hand

You gave a languid stroke upwards, and back down.

Up, and down.

Up, and down... Working him up to full mast as his breathing increased and a small whimper came from his lips.

"Hey, Pete." You grinned, licking over the thumping pulse in his neck.

"Y-yeah?" He whined.

"Wanna see something you're gonna like?" You asked him, your tone breathy.

"Yes. God, yes--" He gasped, as your thumb swirled over the weeping tip of his dick.

You squeeze his cock again as he says that, just barely above painful.

"Peter..." You scold. "What do you say?"

"Yes, ma'am." He whimpered out quickly, his hands gripping the cushions, knuckles turning white as he grits his teeth.

"That's a good Tiger." You purr, pulling your hand from his pants and swinging yourself over so you were straddling his thighs.

"Eyes open, baby." You cooed, urging him to tip his head so he could stare at you, a little slack-jawed as you slowly undo the buttons of the shirt you wore.

God, that pitiful look he'd get on his face when he was horny always got you going.

When you slipped the last buttons out, you pulled the edges of the shirt open, showing your tits off to him with a smirk.

His gorgeous eyes of course locked in on your breasts first, your pebbling nipples eagerly awaiting touch; but his gaze slipped lower, raking all the way down your body until he saw the underwear you were wearing.

It left very, very little to the imagination. And it did a very, very poor job of concealing how wet you were getting; your slick already seeping through and leaving a dark spot on the dark gray pj's he wore.

You watched his hands twitch and arms move; and instantly you frowned.

"Peter." You say, reaching out and gripping his face with your hand, squishing his cheeks.

"Did I say you could touch me?"

He made a soft noise and dropped his arms.

"No. Keep em up." You order, dragging the tank top he wore slowly up his torso.

He obediently lifted his arms up so you could pull the offending piece of clothing off; and you smiled with satisfaction.

"Good boy." You told him, leaning forward to kiss his lips.

The touch was soft, feather light with the ghost of a promise, one that his mouth chased as you pulled away from him.

He made a weak groan, and you giggle.

"Keep your hands on the back of the couch, you're not allowed to move em until I say so. Got it, baby?"

Peter nodded, doing as he was told and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and nodding.

"Peter..."

"Yes ma'am." He whispered out.

You smile at him again as your hands greedily paw at him, sliding down his chest and to his belly, softening and round.

"Babe..." Peter groaned, looking off to the side in embarrassment.

It was no secret between you two that he was self conscious of the pooch in his belly, about the softness there. It was why he decided to wear pants over his suit; he didn't like it being on display for everyone.

"Hush," You said to him, gripping softly at his belly, kneading the skin underneath your soft fingers.

"You're adorable. I love your belly. And think of it this way, you've already got a dad bod." You leaned in just a bit, enough to take one of his nipples into your mouth and tugging on it with your teeth.

The sound he made went into your ears and straight to your cunt.

"..And you look good with a dad bod." You assured him with every ounce of love and acceptance you could vocalize.

He shuddered and let out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed as he let you toy with him.

"Now, let's have a bit of fun, okay?" You sighed, positioning yourself so that the bulge in his pants could press tightly against the sopping fabric of your panties, your throbbing clit pressing hard into it.

You were polite and gave Peter a second to breathe, checking to see if his hands were still where you told him to keep them.

They were, and Peter had his head leaned back so you could see the jumping vein in his neck.

You bit your lip and slowly started to grind on him, letting out a soft groan at the friction, each drag of your hips against his throbbing cock smearing your juices along his clothes length, a dark patch starting to form.

God, he looked so utterly fucked already that your mind felt dizzy with how delicious he was sounding.

Soft whimpers and gasps came from Peter as he lifted his hips to meet yours.

You were tempted to scold him, but then again, he was being a good boy.

You plant your hands on his chest, keeping him pressed into the cushions as you continued to hump against his twitching cock, the signs of his precum already soaking through the fabric to join the wet spot of your own slick.

The way he was being so fucking good for you, the sounds he was making, and the little licks of flames that jolted up with each stroke already had you close to wanting to cum. But you held off, instead doubling down, sliding your hips on his even faster than before, mewling softly as he desperately ruts up into you, his jaw clenched so tight you were worried he would crack the bone.

"You're being so good, Tiger." You purr, licking up from his collarbone, to the soft spot on his neck.

You bit down and sucked hard, scratching your nails down his chest as you kept grinding your soaking pussy against him.

You did that four more times, leaving beautiful red-purple marks on his neck.

You feel his hips start to stutter against yours, a deep, heavy groan tearing through his throat.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" You moan softly.

"Y-yeah." He whined.

"Mmm~" You pull away from him, and he makes a frustrated cry, before going silent as he watched you pull his pants down just enough to free his cock.

His jaw slacks as he watched you pull your panties to the side, and slowly spear yourself on him.

You were so wet and fucking tight, he almost came right there.

You press a finger to his lips as he moaned your name.

"You can cum, but only after me. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am..." He whines.

"Good. Good." You smiled, tapping his lips with your fingers.

"Open."

Peter stares at you, his eyes glazed and pupils dilated as his lips parted, letting you slip your digits in so he could lick around them, sucking them softly and wetting them with his saliva.

You pull them free with a wet pop and bring them down to your clit, using the mix of his spit and your slick to rub the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The way his cock twitched inside of you, the way he struggled so hard to keep still while you used your hand to pleasure yourself while his cock was seated fully into you... God, it was bliss.

"Ah... O-Okay, Tiger." You panted. "Y-you can move. Fuck..."

Peter didn't need another word from you; he began snapping his hips up into yours with a whimper, chasing the orgasm that was a hairs breadth away.

And all at once it was like the world came crashing down. Your orgasm ripped through you and you gushed on Peter's cock, your fingers still working at your clit while he fucked into you, a shaky moan coming from him as he emptied himself into you, snapping his hips up into yours almost mindlessly as the both of you rode out your release.

When the two of you stopped moving, you slowly leaned forward, resting your head on his shoulder, breathing heavily as you tried to control your leaping heart rate.

You felt Peter slip his arms around you and tug you close, and a smirk played on your lips.

"Did I say you could touch me?" You tease.

"No ma'am." Peter grinned.

"Eh, I'll let it slide. This time." You giggle, leaning back to look at him.

God that smile on his face always made your heart flop.

And of course... Another idea came into your mind, biting your lip as you felt his dick twitching inside you.

"Hey, Pete..." You hummed, tracing invisible lines on his chest.

"Yeah?" He asked you.

"Wanna take this to the bedroom? I wanna play a bit more."

Peter looked like he swallowed his tongue right there on the couch.

🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼

Fuck, you loved it when you did this.

You loved the sounds he made, how he'd grip at the sheets and how he'd rock his hips back to meet the thrusts of yours, spearing himself open on the ridged silicone cock you were fucking him with.

"Good boy." You murmured, gripping his ass tight and spreading his cheeks as you glide the toy in and out, in and out.

He wasn't allowed to jerk himself off as you fucked him; that was always the rule.

"You're being quiet again, baby." You cooed, kneading his cheeks with your fingers.

He let out a groan, but it wasn't enough for you.

You wanted more.

And you were going to take more.

You pulled out, almost entirely, watching the rim of muscles clench and try to drag your strap back in.

You hold like that for a minute before Peter makes a needy whine; and the moment he does you slam your hips as hard as you can into him, rocking him forward and making him moan like a whore.

You decided to keep that pace, arching your hips up to reach every spot you memorized inside of him, leaning forward and pressing your palm into the curve of his spine, forcing him down into the bed.

"Thaaaaat's it... that's it." You hissed, biting your lip.

"Gonna cum already?" You teased playfully.

"Y-yes--" He breathed.

You pulled away a bit and bring your hand down on him, slapping his ass, the sound of skin resounding through your bedroom.

"Ah-ah. What do you say?" You say, your tone full of disappointment.

"Yes, ma'am!" He whined loudly, arching back into you as you roughly fucked into him.

"Good boy..." You repeated.

You slid your hand up his spine slowly, earning a pathetic gasp and whimper from him, watching as he ripped at the sheets so hard that the edges came off the corners of your bed; hot ropes of white cum shooting out and staining the silky black sheets as you fucked him.

You pulled out, and unbuckled the harness from around your hips and thighs, tossing the strap-on onto the floor.

Eh, you'd deal with it when you were done.

You laid on your side next to him, smiling sweetly.

"You good, baby?" You asked him softly.

"Agh... Yeah. Shit." Peter mumbled into the pillow.

You grinned and kissed his knuckles as he released his grip on your sheets.

He lifted his gaze and kissed you before you had a chance to react, his tongue pressing into your mouth and tugging at yours, hungry and needy.

He pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your mouths and a glint in his eye.

"Babe, can I..."

"Of course, Tiger." You grinned as he climbed on top of you, gliding his cock through your slick folds.

"We are trying to make a baby, remember? And besides... My legs are tired. You take the lead."

Peter grinned down at you.

"Yes ma'am."

[miela]

Shattered Memories • Chapter III: A Sense of Reunion II • {Peter Parker x Stark!Reader}

Chapter Genre: Angst (???) Chapter Warnings: Mentions of Substance Abuse Masterlist

↪ divider by firefly-graphics

VIDEO LOG #20 / 10 JUNE 2026

Hey (Y/N),

 It’s me, Peter.

It’s been almost two years since you have forgotten about me. And to be honest, these two years have been absolutely hell without you. I got a redo on life as most people wish for but be careful what you wish for I guess. I have a new life and it’s okay. I have friends from school but they’ll never compare to you, Celina, Ned, and MJ. I have two jobs and they pay okay. It helps with rent. I’m still out there being Spiderman, I haven’t heard anything about you though which I guess is understandable. I hope you’re doing okay.

I miss you….I miss you so much. In times like these, I know I could always turn to you, lay my head on your shoulder, and cry…you would rub my back, kiss the top of my head, and tell me that everything is going to be okay...because we had each other. I feel like I took those moments for granted even though I know I didn’t. I just really miss you. 

I hope one day…I could be in your arms again. I love you so much.

[END RECORDING]

I know who you are. 

It rang and echoed in Peter's head after you said it. His heart didn’t know what it wanted to do; stop and explode or race and explode. He looked at you with an expression he could only imagine was a mix of shock and anticipation. How long did you know? Is that why you came to find him? Because you remembered him? There were so many things he wanted to say, ask and do.

But before he could even react, your words knocked his cathedral of hope down to the ground just as quickly as it was built up.

"But I don't remember you."

And there it was. The catch. His heart dropped.

Of course, it wouldn’t have been that easy for him. Even though five years went by and that was more than plenty of time for you to figure it out with what little information you had, Strange’s spell was thorough and very effective. Peter wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream or cry or to crawl in a dark hole and whither away. He didn’t even know how to respond. How was he supposed to explain everything to you? How was he supposed to explain his reasoning for not following through with his promise five years ago?

He just looked at you dumbfounded.

You pressed your lips together and nodded slowly at his response of silence. “When going through the Avenger files, I saw your file. Funny how I recognized everyone else but I didn’t recognize you. Even funnier that we were partners in justice and crime fighting and I didn’t even remember your face. So I did a month-long deep dive.”

Peter never took his eyes off of you and you never took your eyes off of him. He could tell you were getting serious although your expression was still pretty relaxed. On the other hand, he could feel his jaw clench from his nerves making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“I asked around. I asked Sam, Bucky, Dr. Cho, Ned, MJ, Celina…anyone who has a connection to you and none of them know who you are. Well, MJ and Ned said you come into the coffee shop a lot, but they don’t know you. See, memories can be erased from people, but not from algorithms. We went to the same high school, both were in the academic decathlon with MJ, and we had almost all the same classes together. We were both Avengers, we were a duo team because we have the same powers, I remember every single mission, Hell, I remember fighting you,” you continued with emotion in your voice that Peter could only guess was frustration. “But I don’t remember…you.”

Peter decided he wanted to scream. He wanted to scream and then tell you everything, but he had his reasons for not telling you.

“For five years I’ve been dreaming of this guy. I call him the Faceless Boy. I have dreamt of him every single night since that day five years ago. The dreams are more than dreams, more than that dream-walking shit Celina talks about. These dreams are memories with someone who is so foreign to me.” You walked over by him slowly and stopped when you were about three feet away and you looked up into his eyes. “When I snuck through your window today, I expected a different response from you after webbing me to the wall.”

Peter gulped slightly.

“You talked to me like you knew who I was. A long-time friend that you haven’t seen in a while and one you weren’t expecting to see for an even longer while. And then when we shook hands…?” You chewed on your lip nervously, almost like you were afraid to say the next bit. “For five years, I’ve had this hole in my chest, as if something was carved out of my life when it wasn’t supposed to be. I’ve tried to fill it with anything and everything and I failed every single time. So tell me why when we shook hands I never felt it so whole before. A simple handshake from a boy from Queens filled my emptiness like he was the missing puzzle piece.”

Peter’s heart raced as you spoke and looked at him with a desperation for answers, but he couldn’t speak. He didn’t know how to respond as you searched his dark eyes for answers. He didn’t want to lie to you but…he also didn’t want to tell you the truth. The truth is what is keeping you safe and what is keeping you sane. 

“I know you feel it right now,” you said. “The pull.”

The pheromonal connection.

Peter could feel it, He didn’t stop feeling it since he sensed you in his apartment, especially after the handshake. His senses were in a frenzy, he could only imagine how yours were, especially when you couldn’t even remember who he was to you. He pressed his lips together. 

“So tell me, Peter Parker,” you started again. “What happened?”

Peter looked deeply into your eyes and slowly brought his hand up to your cheek and gently caressed it before laying his hand on it. You leaned your face into his touch and closed your eyes. His senses instantly focused on you. Your breath hitched as you opened your eyes again to look up at his dark ones.

He wanted to tell you everything so badly. He wanted to tell you how he knew you like the back of his hand. He wanted to tell you that he knew your favorite things and that you couldn’t cook to save your life, and that you loved to dance and you did ballet since you were a child. He wanted to tell you how in high school you would viscerally defend him every time Flash Thompson opened his mouth and called Peter “Penis Parker” and how when you found out Flash’s real name you started using it just to piss him off and shut him up. He wanted to tell you about how MJ didn’t like him at first because she was afraid that the same situation that happened with him and Liz would happen to you. He wanted to tell you how you and Ned would constantly bicker over who was the coolest character in Star Wars and that everyone thought your favorite anime was Chainsaw Man but he knew it was actually Sailor Moon (and that you constantly argued that Usagi would floor Goku anytime any day and any era). He wanted to tell you everything about yourself and your memories until his jaw hurt from talking too much.

But everything in him told him not to.

“(Y/N)...” he began. “I-”

Before he could finish his sentence your eyes blinked rapidly and your brows furrowed before you winced and hissed. You held your head as you let out a noise of pain and Peter instantly pulled back. 

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)! Are you okay? What’s happening?!” Peter panicked.

After a moment you looked up at him catching your breath softly. “Yeah….yeah. I’m fine. Like I said before. Stark Stress.”

Peter called total bullshit on that. 

“What were we talking about?” You asked softly to no one in particular.

Peter looked at you wide eyes filled with confusion and concern. 

“Uh…” he searched his scatterbrain for something to say. “The…uh…Avenger Files? You were going to tell me why you were going through the Avenger files, yeah…mhm…”

You looked at him with a knowing expression. “Parker, I remember everything I said. It was a rhetorical question.”

“Oh…!” Peter squeaked. 

You rubbed your temples and smiled up at him. “You won’t tell me anything. That’s fine I won't force you. Whatever you did, you did it for good reason.” You leaned back on the table. “I’ll figure it out anyway. Just promise you’ll be honest with me when I ask about something.”

Peter nodded. “Y-yeah! Yeah, sure, yeah I’ll be …uh….I’ll be honest.”

“Great!” you clapped your hands together. “Now down to business. I didn’t just drag you here to interrogate you.” You turned to the table to avoid his gaze.

You were deflecting the situation. Peter knows because you tend to do that when you have felt like you came off too strong in a situation and your way of reacting was to pretend like it was nothing big in hopes that the other person would follow suit. At this moment, Peter was glad you did, because he would’ve done it if you didn’t. Especially when those Stark Stress Migraines seemed more like Parker Stress ones. Both times you guys made contact you had a strong reaction. It scared him and he wanted to know why. He wished he could have asked Strange about this, but Strange didn’t remember him and probably wouldn’t even remember the spell. 

He guessed that was his big sign to keep his distance from you. 

Later, he was taken back home in time for him to go out patrolling once more. He swung across the veins of New York City as he thought about the events that happened.

Today was a really strange day.

After your whole interrogation, you told him about your plans for the NAI and the scholarship that Tony had left for him. 

 “My dad had an actual internship and scholarship set aside for you but obviously it was meant for MIT. I changed it up a bit for your sake. So your last five years will be compensated and paid off tuition-wise and the rest of your time in school will be paid in full. You will also have an internship opportunity whenever you’re ready for it. It will be a summer internship so you can have full focus on it without any distractions, or you could do it during winter break. Whatever works for you.” You pointed at the holographic screens respectively. 

Peter looked at the holograms in shock. Tony was planning on doing all of this for him. He shouldn’t be surprised but he was…and was touched by it. And you modifying it to fit his needs made it all the more… meaningful. He did remember Tony offering him a grant when he first came to visit him but he thought he wasn’t serious about it and was using it for code to add to the stark internship.  

He almost didn’t take it, but you insisted. 

 “Parker, this was something my dad set in place years ago. Consider it a token of gratitude. He would want this for you.” you explained. “But I won't force it on you if you really don’t want it.”

Peter sighed when he stopped on a building to think. He hated keeping the truth from you, and he hated that you were suffering all this time because of your migraines. He remembered your big reaction to both times that he touched you. 

It was hurting you. 

He wondered if it would be the same for Ned, Celina, and MJ. Would they have a splitting headache if he got close to any of them too? The whole point of this stupid spell was to protect the ones he cared about, not cause them pain. 

He really, really hated magic.

He sighed and sat down at the edge of the building. He thought about what you went through in the past years without him. He had hoped that you would have been living your best life without worry, but instead, you were dreaming about him without knowing who he was, and he had to sit there and not tell you that it was him that you were dreaming about. 

It was best to just stay away from you all. Like it was intended five years ago.

He needed a distraction. He remembered one of his friends from school mentioning a party at his Fraternity House this weekend that Peter initially said no to going to. But after today he could use it. He took out his phone and called him.

“Parker,” Harry Osborn, chimed. “What’s up, my guy?”

“Hey Harry,” Peter greeted. “I changed my mind, I do wanna go to that party tomorrow.”

To say you were a mess was an understatement. 

You didn’t seem it though. You were working with Nika on the list of foundations and non-profit organizations that would be attending the charity gala that you were hosting in a month. You’re first act of Philanthropy would be donating at least one billion dollars each year to different organizations and you wanted it to be a well-rounded event but you were distracted by the recent ones that happened.

Nika could tell.

“(Y/N),” she said, folding her hands in her lap. “Are you okay? Did that Avenger boy do something to you?”

“Huh? What? No,” You replied a little defensively. “He’s harmless.”

“Then why do you seem so upset?” She asked with concern in her tone. “You were fine earlier.”

You sighed and rubbed your temples with your fingers gently as you closed your eyes. “Migraine,” you responded, only giving part of the problem. 

She sighed knowing that you weren’t telling her everything. “I’m going to talk to you as a friend.”

You looked at the redhead expectantly.

“You haven’t had much of a life since…well…since I first met you four years ago.”

You met Nika Eyrewolfe, back in the recovery center. She was in for substance abuse herself. Since then you guys have been great friends and been a good support for each other. When you found out that she had no place to call home or anything to her name, you got her a job at Stark Industries before she was promoted to your assistant. She’s done nothing but a great job at it. She has been with you most days since you became CEO. So to say the girl knew your life and schedule like her life depended on it was an understatement.

“You’ve worked yourself so much that your headaches are getting worse and worse,” she continued. “The only person you hang out with is Morgan, who’s ten years old. You haven’t made time for Celina, Ned, and MJ in forever. But you had time to get Avenger Boy.”

“He has a name,” You retorted. “Peter. Peter Parker.”

“That’s nice,” Nika replied sarcastically. “And who is Peter Parker to you exactly?”

That’s the problem. I don’t know, you thought.

All you know is that he was the cutest guy you have ever seen in your entire life. His brown curls were soft and silky on his head. His eyes looked tired but they were soft and kind. He had boyish features that only added to his softness. And his smile. God, that smile. It lit up his whole face. His black tee shirt hugged his muscles nicely, and his dark denim jeans hugged his thighs and legs in just the right way. You had to catch yourself from staring at him too long before it got really weird.

You stayed silent and leaned your head on the back of your chair.

“Exactly,” Nika stated. “Nothing. So, you should make time for your friends. I’ll clear your calendar this weekend.”

The thing was that Peter wasn’t “nothing” to you, he was definitely a big something. You were at least eighty percent sure he was the faceless boy from your dreams. And when he touched you…? You couldn’t ignore that no matter how much you tried. The way his hand was so heartbreakingly gentle on your skin as all your worries faded away for a small moment before the splitting headache came again. It’s not like you could tell Nika any of this.

But she was right about one thing. It had been a while since you hung out with your friends. You kept in touch with them in the group chat, but it wasn’t the same as seeing them. 

“Okay,” you gave her a small smile. “Thank you, Nika. What would I be without you?”

“I dunno, probably insane.”

You snorted in response.

Maybe it would be good for you to step away from everything for a little bit. Especially with how crazy your day was. You especially wanted to pretend this day never happened, crawl into the void, and scream until your voice was gone. You deserved to relax for a moment and maybe next time you make the impulsive decision to climb into the window of someone you think you know but you don’t…

You won’t.

~

tags: @riordanness @chrisevans-realwife @peterdarlingg

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

{THIS IS A RANT} - Back at it again with the

ALL MY HOBIES HATE PETER B.

(Not a typo)

Another rant where I talk about hating Peter B on every level in which my soul manifests

[Stop talking about if your parenting is good so help me fucking god this has nothing to do with you and lives are at stake]

The reason I find Miguel easier to defend than Peter B is because Miguel actually has actions to speculation about in the story.

Peter spent that whole movie talking about his baby, standing completely stationary while witnessing child abuse twice (he didn't nothing when Gwen was sent home) and then go home and talk about how he's sad cause he's not a good mentor and might not be 'good at this'

Like sir who the hell cares what youre good at A teenage girl just became homeless and Miles is being hunted by hundreds of adults

Can you give us more than 'I'm bad at this mentor stuff 😭😭😭'

Put MayDay in the crib and go get Gwen.

Or at the very least tell MJ. Tell MJ that the kid that inspired you to have MayDay is in mortal danger. Tell MJ that the reason you think you're a bad mentor is because MILES JUST GOT HIS ASS BEAT

Why is his thought after ALL THAT about himself abd only HIMSELF? And how he might be a bad mentor

Like yes, you are now that we've realized that glaring fact can you like.... Do something

ALSO YOU HAVEN'T SEEN MILES IN OVER A YEAR WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU WORRIED ABOUT THAT

'you don't know if he was going to go get gw-'

Exactly. Cause all he did was talk about himself.

'what if the society was supporting them financially-'

if you see your boss assault a child you should quit even if you make a million a month

'he ended up joining the team anyway'

Gwen, the teenager, the homeless teenager, shouldn't be the one coming to Peter's rescue right now it should be the other way around.

The only reason he joined at the end was because Hobie and Gwen made it super convenient for them.

Had Hobie not left Gwen the watch - and Gwen hadn't showed up -

We are given NO PROOF whatsoever that Peter would've joined them.

No verbal indication or anything.

We have no idea how long Peter would've stayed on Miguel's side had Gwen not approached him.

LITERALLY all Peter did this movie was show Miles baby pictures, tell him he has to let his dad die, accidentally get him caught because he's too stupid to turn off his TRACKING watch , watch Miles get his ass beat, then watch Gwen get her ass beat, then go home and talk about himself.

At least Miguel is having an emotional arc meanwhile Peter shows the emotional range of a bad day at the office despite the fact people he knows and cares about have been hurt in front of him by someone he knows and cares about.

And people still defend him.

HE DID NOTHING. THERE'S NOTHING TO DEFEND BUT HIS INACTION

I feel like so many people excuse his inaction and failure to 'he means well' - obviously not cause when you mean well you do well and he ain't do shit.

"What was he supposed to do?"

At the very least express concern of some sort about the two missing children in his life??

Put MayDay down and try to see if you can find Gwen?

At the very least mention the fact that his boss went apeshit - or Hell, talk about ANYTHING besides himself.

I don't know how people can see that and be like yeah he's cool. This is a competent man who cares about these kids

Like.... If you care and do nothing and make them do literally everything and help them none to the point you're actively leading danger to them because you can't think ahead all while clapping from the sidelines then who the fuck cares what you care about

You don't care enough to do something. So why would I care you're a bad mentor???????

At least Miguel is doing something and we can look deeper into his emotional arc and story and motive

Peter B gives literally nothing. Nothing. Contributes nothing to no one through the whole movie. Doesn't even do a cool Spidey move or anything. Jokes dry as hell -

FUCK I'm so salty why did the write him like a plank of wood why am I supposed to be okay with his WHY WHY WHY

WANT ME TO CLAP AND SHIT MEANWHILE I'M LOOKING AT HIM LIKE

What can he do that Noir, Pavitr, and Hobie can't? Like.... They can do everything he can???? With extra abilities,??? PENI HAS A MECH?? WHAT IS HE ADDING WHAT IS HE BRINGING WHAT IS HE SERVING

NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING

____________________________________________

Anyway if you made it this far he's a master list of all my posts where I talk about why a Peter is a horribly borderline irredeemable character.

Peter watching as Gwen is put in the machine, and says nothing besides a joke to defend her, before going home to talk about himself

Hobie doesn't like Peter so neither do I

Why I believe Peter purposely ratted Miles out - If Peter didn't know he was being tracked, why would she speak out loud and give herself away. She didn't. I believe Peter asked her to track them and she responded out loud not knowing Miles was right there.

Why even if he didn't rat Miles out, that's arguably worse - How do you forget the obvious tracker watch is obvious tracking you?

UHH SO YEAH FUCK PETER B ALL MY HOBIES HATE PETER B