#pause spiderman before uncle ben dies

[yormp]

Oh nooo, I can’t believe the movie just ends there! I guess now that they’ve beat the bad guy nothing bad will ever happen again! Nothing else happens. At all. It’s just this.

[peppermintquartz]

Love your writing! Thank you for all you provide for the bucktommy fandom! For the prompts: spiderman kisses

You're welcome! My preferred method to engage with fandom is to write fics and I'm glad people are appreciating them ❤️

Ooh that is a hard one. I'm gonna try.

*

"How long ago was this movie?" Evan asks, settling in next to Tommy.

"It's from 2002," says Tommy.

"Wow, that's, like, vintage."

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that."

Tommy figures the first Spider-Man movie (the best of the live-action adaptations, in his biased opinion) is a good blend of action and drama and romance to entertain Evan and himself. He found James Franco hot, back in the day, and this movie brought back his teen crush feelings.

Evan sniffles when Uncle Ben dies, and Tommy cuddles him close. But the rest of the movie makes up for it, particularly when Peter Parker saves Mary Jane in the pouring rain.

"Oh wow, Kirsten Dunst is so hot," Evan muses. They've shifted positions so that Tommy is leaning against the arm of his couch and Evan is lying on him, like a spoiled cat.

Tommy stifles a laugh by kissing the top of his boyfriend's head. "Almost all my friends thought so. Some of them were especially focused on the fact she wasn't wearing a bra in this scene. Then again, we were all horny teenagers, so I guess that's to be expected."

"Yeah, it is hard to miss that," Evan comments. Then he sighs. "It's such a romantic kiss though."

"It's an original idea too, not copied from the comics," Tommy says, because sometimes he knows things. "Got parodied to hell and back after that, but that's how you know it's iconic."

Pausing the movie, Evan shifts and turns around, nearly elbowing Tommy in the ribs. "You know, I wanna try that."

Tommy raises an eyebrow. "An upside-down kiss? You do know neither of us are Spider-Man, right?"

Evan gets to his feet and drags Tommy out of the couch. "I have an idea. Come on come on come on come on, I wanna try something."

Putting up a token display of resistance, Tommy lets Evan lead him into the garage. Evan stares at the pull-up bar, his eyes narrowing, and then he grabs it, swings one long leg up and then the other, and hangs on to it with hands and knees.

Tommy is not amused but worried. "Baby, please get down," he says as he hurries in place to keep his arms under his boyfriend, ready to break his fall.

"Kiss me first," Evan demands. His face is already turning red from being upside down.

Tommy quickly pecks him on the mouth. "There are safer ways to have upside-down kisses, babe. I don't want you breaking your neck.

"That's not how the kiss went."

"Evan Buckley, I'm not playing. Get off the bar carefully." Tommy resorts to using his Serious Tone, which he hates to use on his boyfriend, but sometimes Evan does rush into things a little too impulsively and Tommy has to rein him in.

Pouting, Evan gets off the contraption, and Tommy pulls him into a hug and kisses the pout away. Evan keeps his eyes downcast. "Hey. That was just too unsafe. We can do the kiss lying down, okay?"

Evan peers through his lashes. "I want a proper Spider-Man kiss."

Tommy huffs through his nose and pulls Evan to the Muay Thai mat. They lie down, head to head but their feet angled in opposite directions. Tommy cups Evan's cheek. It's a different feeling, the way his hands are angled, and he leans in to kiss Evan.

It is very different. The top of his tongue slides over the top of Evan's tongue; his nose is bumping against Evan's stubbled chin. He changes the angle of his mouth and tries again.

After a moment, they both pull away. Evan is giggling. "I don't think that was as hot as the movie's version," he admits. Rubbing the tip of his nose, he adds, "I love your cleft, but I think I prefer if my nose isn't rubbed raw on it."

Tommy laughs and gets up, before he reaches for Evan. "Yeah, I think I'll stick to the regular way. Besides, I like seeing your eyes after we kiss."

"Really? Why?"

Tommy shrugs. He's not that good with words. "I just like it, that's all." He kisses his boyfriend again, right way round this time, and when he pulls away, he watches Evan blink, his wide blue eyes a little dazed and his lips curving into a smile. "Yeah, exactly like that. I like seeing that."

Evan tucks an arm around Tommy's waist. "You're so sweet." Biting his lower lip, he asks, "So, shall we finish the movie and make out on the couch like horny teenagers afterwards?"

"Sounds like a plan."

[enchanted-sorcery]

Wash the Memories Away

fandom: marvel (mcu)

pairing: peter parker x gn!reader

warning(s): NO WAY HOME SPOILERS!!, angst (?)

word count: 0.7k words

date of post: december 25, 2021

author's note: HAPPY HOLIDAYS AND (for those who celebrate) MERRY CHRISTMAS :D!! i watched spiderman: no way home a few days ago and- i can't. i can't. this fic is my response to the movie. i was in tears by the time the post credit scenes played. if you read, i'm just going to say- we suffer together. also my laptop charger broke so i wrote this on my phone 😭.

masterlist

you never really liked the rain.

it had been raining when you got the call. the day was supposed to be one of much deserved relaxation, doing nothing but having take-out in your pajamas and watching shows on streaming sites. college was a bitch, and it was finally the beginning of break. then, your phone rang on the coffee table. seeing the number coming from your hometown, you decided it wouldn't hurt to answer it.

maybe you shouldn't have.

"it's with deepest regret that maybelle parker was found deceased in the early hours of the morning. she had succumbed to injuries after an explosion. i'm so sorry for your loss."

you heard something fall to the floor, most likely your phone, but you were in too much shock to care. the next thing you knew, you were on the next flight out to new york.

"how did you know her?"

"through spiderman."

you felt like you were intruding something as you walked to your aunt's grave. you knew you shouldn't have, as you had every right to be there. she's your family. the only family member you had left after your parents and uncle ben died.

well, she was the only one you had left, anyways.

the tears weren't noticed until a breeze had passed, nibbling on your skin. you quickly wiped them away with your free hand, the other tightly gripping the bouquet of flowers you bought. you moved closer to where your aunt rested, not paying much attention to the two also present as you set the bouquet down.

the older of the two looked at you, asking you the same question you heard him as earlier.

"she was my aunt. well, technically adopted but-" you shook your head and smiled sadly before returning the question.

"we were briefly seeing each other before, you know…"

"oh, so you're happy?" you remembered may mentioning a new boyfriend once while you two were talking over the phone once.

happy nodded.

you then turned to the other person there. he was younger, around your own age. he had his hood up, so you couldn't make out much.

it was a few more minutes before the stranger turned to walk away. you couldn't help but watch him go, seeing the awkward shift he made as he seemingly pondered the idea of staying. despite not speaking, he seemed so familiar, but you couldn't place your finger on it.

why did he remind you so much of someone?

not being able to answer this bothered you. it didn't leave your head, even after you left the graveyard with happy and eventually for your apartment. unlocking the door, you heard something drop in the halls. out of curiosity, you looked over- only to see the stranger from before, a box on the floor in front of him.

"is everything okay?" you asked.

the young man nodded.

there was a more or less awkward moment of silence between the two of you. after who knows how long, the brunet spoke.

"i'm peter," he introduced himself. "sorry for not saying anything earlier at the- anyways, just moved in-" the stranger, peter, paused, looking in the direction you had come from. "right across from you." a faint smile appeared on his face. he held out his hand.

it took you a moment before you realized his actions were initiating a handshake. you stated your name as you took his hand.

you thought you felt peter tense, but he had relaxed his muscles too fast for you to confirm it.

"guess i'll see you around, peter."

over the weeks, you noted a few things about this peter person. he was a bit nerdy, shy, quiet. he was a big fan of the science-fiction genre, often making references towards it. but what really stood out was the fact that there was always a look of what you could only describe as pain and guilt when the two of you talked.

you thought that seeing peter often meant you'd be able to hopefully find out who he reminded you of. for reasons unknown, he reminded you of aunt may. his smile mirrored hers, and they both fidgeted with whatever was in their hands when they were thinking. but no, it couldn't be her peter reminded you of. but other than may, you couldn't think of anyone similar to your neighbor. the mystery bothered you- sometimes even going as far as keeping you up at night, your only company being the rain dropping onto your windowsill.

you never really liked the rain.

[gothicknightz]

universal | peter parker [3]

[1] [2] [4] [5] [6]

(credit to gif creator)

synopsis: you and peter had a falling out, and it was hard on both of you. you were both well-worked into your relationship when you found out he was spiderman. instead of having a positive reaction liked peter hoped, you left. it had been years since that unfortunate event, and it finally came around to apologise. when you arrived, though, peter was nowhere to be found. so you looked up and down for him, until the strangest thing occured to you.

(an: honestly didn’t expect this to be more than a 2 part thing, enjoy! )

no way home spoilers under the cut!!

You finally had him back, your Peter.

After years of sleepless nights and numbing days, you had Peter back in a way.

You guys weren’t back back, but it was better than not having him around.

He still had that look you remembered; curious and playful.

It was something you always loved about him; the times he would show up at your window and you wouldn’t think twice about it.

It was a look that was always on his face, except for when he told you about Uncle Ben, and the look you saw on him a few minutes ago.

You knew he missed you.

Your head turned to the new voice, and you took in the portal he came in through. 

“I feel like I walked in on something I shouldn’t have.” The man said, looking between you and Peter.

“You’re Peter....” MJ said, shifting the balance of the whole situation.

“Yeah, Peter Parker.” He paused, “I’ve seen you two....”

There was a small exchange between Ned’s mom and this Peter, before he turned to your Peter.

Your Peter slowly let you go, standing in front of you protectively.

“Wait.... he’s not- he’s not your friend...”

There was a silence between the two before they both took an instance to shoot at one another with webs, performing the same actions at the same time.

The other Spidey took a web shot at Peter and looked at his inner forearm, “Huh.”

It wasn’t a major shock, but it definitely baffled Ned. “Wait, so you’re Spiderman too? Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Uh, I generally don’t go around advertising it, kinda defeats the whole anonymous superhero thing.”

An “I just said that.” And a “He just said that.” Came from both an amused Peter and a confused MJ.

Once again, Ned’s mom began to speak, “Ikaw ha nagkalat ka nanaman. Linisin mo lahat ng mga basura mo dito. At ikaw naman, alam mo naman na gusto ko na itong bahay natin maayos pero tignan mo, dumi dito, dumi doon.”

“My uh, Lola was asking if you could clean up the webs you just shot.” Ned had translated for the two Spidey’s.

“Oh, sorry, Lola.”

“Yes, of course.”

Ned’s mom, tired, was straight forward and stated, “I’m going to bed.”

After Ned’s mom had left, the older Peter started talking. 

“Uh, this might seem crazy, but, I’ve been trying to find your friend ever since I got here,” He paused, “I just have this sense that he needs my help.”

“Our help.”

“He does.” MJ had spoken, concern in her tone. 

“We don’t know where he is.”

“And um, honestly, right now, we’re all he has left.”

Trying to find a solution, the older Peter spoke up, “Well, uh, is there some place that he might go that has meaning to him. Like a place where he would just go to-”

“Get away from everything?”

“For me, uh, it was the top of the Chrysler building.”

“Empire State, uh, it’s just a better view.”

The older Peter turned to you, “And what about you?”

You had to blink back to reality to process what you were facing; two, three Spidermans exsisting in the world, well, worlds.

“Not a Spidey,” You clarified, “Just happened to know one.”

There was short silence before MJ spoke up again, “Yes, I... I think I know exactly where that would be.”

♥ 

“Hey, wait, wait- woah!” The youngest Spider of them all put his hand up, as a signal for the other two to stop.

Both put their hands up as the oldest Spider started to speak, “Sorry, about May.”

“Yeah, sorry. I still understand what it feels-”

“No, no, please don’t tell me you know what I’m going through.”

“Okay.”

“She’s gone; it’s all my fault, she died for nothing. It’s why I’m gonna do what I should’ve done in the first place.”

“Peter, please don’t-”

“You don’t belong here, either of you. So I’m sending you home.” The youngest paused, “Those other guys, they’re from your world, right? So you deal with it; they die if you kill them, that’s on you. That’s not my problem.

I don’t care anymore, I’m done. I’m really sorry that I dragged you into this, but you have to go home now. Good luck.”

“My Uncle Ben was killed, it was my fault.” The oldest spoke, “The night Ben died, I hunted down the man who I thought did it, I wanted him dead. I got what I wanted.” He paused, “It didn’t make it better. It took me a long time to learn... to get through that darkness.”

The youngest spoke up again, “I wanna kill him. I wanna tear him apart.

I can still hear her voice in my head; even after she was hurt, she told me that we still did the right thing.”

“She told me that with great power-”

“Comes with great responsibility.”

“Wait, what, how do you know that?”

“Uncle Ben said it,”

“The day he died.”

[farfromharry]

The one without the suit | Peter’s girl

Summary: Peter doesn’t know where to go when Mr Stark takes his suit away from him after the ferry incident so he comes to you. You spend the rest of the night comforting the distraught boy.

Word count - 2746

Warnings - language? i don’t think there’s anything else

A/n - i’m gonna try and do regular updates for this again, but it probably won’t happen😳

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

It all kept replaying in Peter’s head, all those people he’d put in danger just because he couldn’t let this go. Even you had told him he needed to stop, so why couldn’t he?

He sat and stared into the water with a frown, his legs dangling over the side of the building while his mask sat beside him on the ledge. God how had he messed up so bad, Mr Stark must be so angry.

Speaking of, he heard the suit before he saw it, his eyes squeezing shut as he braced himself to get yelled at by his mentor. Swinging his legs over the side and beginning to head in the direction of where the iron man suit stood, probably empty of the real Tony Stark, just like the time at the lake.

The words he was saying- yelling, weren’t really registering in the boy’s head, Peter was wanting nothing more than to skip the lecture and just apologise to the man for everything he’d caused. He didn’t even really care how this was going to affect him, not while he didn’t know the aftermath of the boat. 

“Is everyone okay?”  That was all he really cared about, knowing that no one had gotten hurt all because he screwed up, again. 

“No thanks to you.” 

The next few minutes had been a blur of Peter raising his voice angrily, finding it very difficult to believe that even after all that happened where he’d just tried to help, Mr Stark was still blaming this entirely on him. He remembered apologising profusely, not seeing the anger in Mr Stark’s eyes falter for even a second.

“I’m gonna need the suit back.” He felt like his entire body was shutting down, his heart shattering and a lump building in the back of his throat. Peter begged him, trying to change his mind with empty promises that meant nothing.

“F-For how long?”

“Forever.”

That one word kept repeating in the boy’s mind.  Forever. He was never getting the suit back, God he fucked up again. Walking down the streets of New York in clothes that weren’t his own was probably mortifying on a normal day, but he felt like there was a cloud of shame hanging over his head that everyone could see, and that was much worse.

He didn’t know where his feet were taking him at first, making the subconscious decision that he wasn’t yet ready to go home to his aunt in this state. Peter wasn’t sure if he’d ever been this disappointed or embarrassed with himself. He managed to fuck up so bad that the Tony Stark, his idol, his mentor, took away his suit. 

He was disappointed in him. 

Granted Peter was only a kid, heck he was still a teenager, but he felt like he owed it to Tony to be the best, to be better and apparently Mr Stark thought so too. 

He was growing increasingly self conscious walking through the streets of Queens in clothing they’d gotten from lost and found at the ferry dock. He probably should’ve gone home. May was definitely worried sick about him right now, but he didn’t have the strength to go and face a lecture when all he wanted to do was curl into a ball and let his emotions out.

He had to stop for a minute to realise that he’d been walking to your apartment on instinct. 

It felt like a second nature for Peter now to go to your window every time he was in need of help.

But it hurt him in a way he couldn’t explain when he realised he was unable to swing his way up there, not having either of his suits or his web shooters. The boy sniffled quietly, deciding he was just going to have to show up at your front door, hopefully not disturbing your parents.

He took the elevator up, giving him a chance to think everything over again, the boy deciding he needed some kind of distraction at least to ease his mind. His feet carried him from the elevator to your apartment door, the boy knocking before he'd even registered he was doing so.

“I’ll get it,” you yelled. You paused the movie you were watching on the TV, getting up from the couch. You didn’t bother to check you looked presentable, assuring yourself it was probably just your neighbour, she was a very old lady that often forgot the keys to her apartment and would always ask if she could use your spare that your parents had made just for this situation.

You grabbed the key that resided in a bowl beside your front door, pulling it open with a small smile on your lips. “Forgot your keys again Mrs Ka- Oh, Peter hi.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows slightly as you stared at the distraught expression that had overtaken your friend’s face. He sniffled slightly, his head raising from where his eyes were locked on the floor. You stepped forward and carefully placed your hand on his arm.

“Pete, what’s wrong?” you asked. His eyes were bloodshot and dark when he looked at you, the boy looking like a kicked puppy. Your heart ached just at the sight of him.

“He took my suit,” he whispered, so quietly you didn’t hear him. You stepped closer, placing your hand on his cheek gently.

“What?” 

“Mr Stark took my suit, I let him down.” 

That was the final straw for him. He let out a heart wrenching sob, falling into your arms utterly broken. You weren’t sure what you were meant to do, having never seen him in such a state, so you simply wrapped your arms around him and cradled his head against your chest.

With all the hugs you’d shared with Peter, he’d never held you so tightly, but he’d also never been so upset in view of another person, not even May. Not when his parents died and not when his Uncle Ben died, his tears were restricted to the eyes of him and him only. 

His crying had obviously alerted your mother, seeing her head pop in to look in the living room where you were cradling a crying Peter. She raised her eyebrows, her eyes softening out of motherly concern.

She took your word for it when you just shook your head, promising you’d help him and stay with him until he calmed down.

“Come on, Pete.” You helped the boy up off of the floor and towards your room. He’d been in your room plenty of times over the past few weeks so he took it upon himself to crash on your bed instantly. You didn’t know what to do, you’d never had to deal with consoling a superhero that got their suit taken away from them, so you didn’t fully understand what that suit meant to Peter, even if you did know how much he enjoyed being Spiderman. 

“Peter, I-“ you sighed, sitting on the bed beside his exhausted body. “I’m sure you didn’t disappoint Mr Stark.” 

He scoffed, running his hands over his face exasperatedly. His heart was aching. “You didn’t see it in his eyes. You didn’t hear it.”

Your heart ached listening to the words muffled by the covers of your bed. You could hear his quiet sniffles as he tried to calm himself down, the deep breaths not doing much of the sort. You took a seat beside him awkwardly, your nose scrunching up when you caught a whiff of the boy’s unusual scent.

Your mind told you that a hot bath might help him, as it was always a comfort to you when you were having one of your days. You gently laid your hand on his back, rubbing over the material of his shirt softly for a few moments before you suggested your idea. 

“Why don’t you go take a hot bath? They help me when I’m down,” you said, seeing him turn his face to the side on the bed so he could look at you. “Plus you smell like garbage,” you teased. 

He clearly wasn’t in much of a joking mood when he simply stood up with a nod of his head, his eyes still morphed into puppy dog eyes. You flashed him a tight lipped smile, mentally scolding yourself for how badly your attempt at lightening the mood had gone. 

»»——⍟——««

You’d generously offered to wash Peter’s hair for him when he stated that he didn’t think he was up to it. He was flustered as he agreed, listening to your promises about just washing his hair for him, no peeking or anything, and then you’d be out of there. 

“You promise you won’t look?” he asked, a stern look in his eyes as he wasn’t sure he could do this if you even took as much as a tiny peek. You rolled your eyes, cursing him for having no faith in you. “Peter, I don’t even want to look.”

He seemed to take offense to those words too, his nose scrunching in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

You huffed at his childish behaviour, telling him there was not a single chance you were about to have this discussion with him about why you didn’t want to see his dick, that was a whole other story.

Eventually he took your word and headed for the bathroom, calling you in when he was ready and sure you wouldn’t be exposed to anything you didn’t want to see.

“Thank you,” he whispered, sending you a genuine smile as you lathered up the coconut scented shampoo on your hands. You shook your head, dismissing his thanks by telling him it was just what friends did. Maybe not all friends, as you couldn’t imagine too many people had to console their superhero friend after their hero suit was taken away from them by their billionaire mentor. So maybe it was just a you and Peter thing. 

He hummed quietly as your fingers threaded through his locks, gently tugging when your fingers would encounter some kind of tangle. You muttered apologies under your breath but they went unheard by the boy who looked as though he was in complete bliss.

“Pete.” It took him a few seconds to hear you calling his name, his eyes snapping up to yours with a shy, apologetic smile. You giggled at his shyness, gently guiding his head to tip backwards so you could wash the soap from his hair.

You repeated the process of washing and rinsing one more time to ensure he no longer smelled like dirty garbage, before leaving him to finish up and dry off in your bathroom.

You started to worry when he began taking his time, scared that something bad had happened, even though you knew he was able to take care of himself.

But your worries died down when he came out of the bathroom with the same clothes he’d worn earlier, pulling a small amused smile from you at the sight of him in hello kitty pyjamas.

“You okay?” you asked, noting that he hadn’t yet said a word since emerging from the bathroom. His voice came out slightly scratchy, a sign of all the sobs that had wracked his body. “Yeah, jus’ need a hug.” 

Your heart warmed in your chest, arms opening for the boy to crawl into. “I can do that.” 

»»——⍟——««

“I’m so tired,” he mumbled, harshly rubbing at his still teary eyes with his fists. You frowned, taking his hands in yours and moving them away from his face so he couldn’t hurt himself. He’d cried so hard and so much in such a short time that he was physically exhausted. 

You wrapped his arms around your waist, letting him lay his head on your chest so you could hold him. Your hands threaded in his freshly washed hair, the scent filling your senses much more pleasant than the one he’d originally arrived with. You gently untangled any knots that had developed in his curls over the course of them drying from the water, the boy humming softly. 

The feeling of your fingers gently scratching at his scalp and playing with his hair was almost enough to soothe him completely to sleep, but you could feel that his body was fighting it off as he probably didn’t want to feel like he was burdening you with another thing.

“Peter?” you whispered. He hummed tiredly in response, nuzzling his face closer to you. “You’re kinda heavy.”

He gasped, finding the energy to raise his head and gape at you as you held back your giggle. He couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful for you trying to put a smile on his face, even if that was through an insult. 

“That was so mean,” he whined, a smile threatening to form on his lips. The first smile you would see from him today.

“M sorry, but you are. Are you forgetting you’re literally built like a God?” He rolled his eyes, cheeks flushing a soft pink at the hint of a compliment. You let out a loud laugh, trying to shuffle away from him as you muttered his name repeatedly. He was laughing now too and the sound, after everything you’d seen from his attitude tonight, was music to your ears.

“Pete, stop!” you squealed. He collapsed down beside you on the bed, the two of you catching your breath as your stomachs began to ache from all the laughing. He still had a grin on his face when you turned your head to look at him, smiling softly as you noticed that familiar sparkle in his eye.

“Pete?” you asked, after your laughter had died down into a comfortable silence. “Yeah?” 

You sighed. “Does May know you’re here?” 

He didn’t respond for a few minutes, answering pretty much everything you needed to know. He could feel your eyes on him, making him feel even more guilty about the whole situation.

“No, she doesn’t,” he finally admitted.

You took his hand in yours, the action still making Peter’s breath hitch even after the many times the two of you had embraced recently. “You should call her, she’s probably worried about you.” 

It took a bit of convincing, but after a while he did call May. He moved out into the hall so he could have a little bit of privacy, not wanting you to hear the earful he was about to get from her.  She was angry, and rightfully so, scolding him for leaving her in the dark, but she was still mainly more worried about her nephew’s safety.

He came back with a rather sullen look on his face, phone in hand as he stood awkwardly in your door frame, like he was uncomfortable.

“I-I have to go, May wants me home,” he mumbled. You nodded your head, flashing him an understanding smile. You’d already guessed that May was going to be upset with him, so you could only pray for him for when he got home. You took a deep breath, pushing yourself up off of your bed and heading straight to Peter to hug him.

“I’m sorry,” you started. “About everything that happened tonight. It’ll all be okay,” you promised, rubbing your hand up and down his back. He pursed his lips, nodding as he pulled away.

“Thank you, Y/N.” 

You followed him from your room to the door of your apartment, seeing the way he dragged his feet sadly along the wooden floorboards. He sent you one last look over his shoulder, and in the light the rings of redness around his eyes were accentuated. 

You watched him walk out of your apartment with a small frown on your face, waving goodbye to him with a rather quiet, “Bye Peter.”

You closed the door with a sigh, your heart aching at the situation Peter had been put in. You knew how much he loved being Spiderman and you knew this wouldn’t stop him, which would probably only cause him more harm, but you trusted him and you hoped that Stark would be able to see he made a mistake.

“Did Peter leave?” You turned and looked at your mother, nodding your head. 

“Is he okay?” she asked. You plastered on a fake smile, nodding your head and pretending as though your last few hours consoling the teenager hadn’t happened. 

“Just some family problems, but I'm sure everything will be fine.” 

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peter’s girl taglist → @sunsetholland @captainamirica @tomsirishgirlx @givebuckyhisplumsnow @lou-la-lou @slutforsr @tayyx @gog0juice @minejungwoo @creatorofthegalaxy @annathesillyfriend @paninipress @bvttercupbby @peterswebshooters @whoeveniskendall @itsallyscorner @hoodpankow @sunwardsss @hallecarey1 @writingrem @mamaparker28

[steves-on-a-plane]

Mask

For @thefanficfaerie​‘s OTP Challenge (2020)         Words: 1136 Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader         Prompt: Spooktacular Halloween: Day 20 - Mask Summary: Reader gets a surprise visit from her husband’s intern. Peter Parker explains that he’d like Reader and Tony’s help putting together a charity event.

“Hey, [Y/N]?” You looked up from your work to see your secretary standing in your office doorway, his expression uncertain. “There’s a kid here who says he works with Mr. Stark.”

“Peter? It’s okay, send him in.” Your secretary stepped back out of the office and Peter stepped in.

“Mr. Parker, shouldn’t you be in school?” You asked him.

“Uh, hi, Mrs. Stark.” Peter waved awkwardly. “It’s a professional day, we got out of school early. I was on my way home but I was hoping I could talk to you about something.”

“I pieced that together by the fact that you’re here in my office Peter.” You teased him. “Have a seat. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Er, if it’s okay I’d rather stand. Walking helps me think.” He explained.

“Go for it.” You encouraged.

“Okay.” He exhaled before beginning to pace. “So, you know how I live with my Aunt May?” He paused to make sure you were following along. You bit your lip to hold back your smirk. Peter reminded you so much of Tony when he did things like this. You nodded so he knew you were with him so far. “So, Aunt May was married to my Uncle Ben, before he died, he was staying in a hospital. That hospital had a children’s ward and I think about those kids all the time. They don’t get to go outside and they can’t spend a lot of time with their families. They don’t even get to go trick-or-treating. The hospital can’t afford it. Kids like Spiderman, right?” He stopped pacing and waited for your response.

“Peter, I’m sure lots of kids like Spiderman, but you know, plenty of people like Peter Parker too.” You assured him.

“Thank you, but that’s not what I mean.” He returned to his pacing. “I was thinking maybe I could do a charity event? Like the one Captain Rogers did at the compound. I could show up at the hospital as Spiderman and visit the sick kids. Maybe bring them some candy give them like small toys or coloring pages or something? Do you think they would like that? Is that a dumb idea? I would ask Mr. Stark, but I don’t want him to think I’m doing it for attention or anything, I just want to make the kids happy.”

“I think that’s a very good idea, Peter.” This time you didn’t hold back your smile.

“Really?” He asked excitedly. He finally gave his feet a rest and sat down. “Could you help me plan it Mrs. Stark? I don’t know the first thing about doing something like that. And I know that you and Mr. Stark manage all the finances for The Avengers…”

“I’d be happy to help, but Peter if you want this to be your event, you’re going to have to do some of the work okay? The first thing you should do is come up with a plan of exactly what you want this event to be. Then we have to ask the hospital for permission.” You told him.

“Okay! I’ll go home and start working on it right now!” He promised, jumping out of his seat. “Thank you so much Mrs. Stark! This is awesome! We’re going to make those kids so happy!”

A few weeks later you and Tony arrived at the hospital where Peter’s event was taking place. Peter had worked hard to organize things and he’d put in the work just like he’d promised. He’d called around to the other Avengers inviting them to participate. He’d collected donations from businesses around the city and used the money to buy pounds and pounds of candy. He’d ordered hundreds of Avengers and Spiderman coloring sheets to pass out to the kids. He even found some color-your-own spiderman masks and placed a bulk order of them.

“Hold the elevator!” A familiar voice called as you and Tony stepped onto the lift. Tony immediately began pushing the ‘Door Close’ button, but you put your foot out to catch the door.

“Thanks [Y/N].” Steve smiled at you as he entered the elevator. “Stark.” He nodded at Tony.

“Running late, Rogers?” Tony questioned. “That’s not like you. Were you polishing your shield?”

“Ha-ha.” Steve fake laughed. “How about you?”

“Being late is very much on-brand for me.” Tony countered.

“We were picking up the stickers.” You told Steve, indicating the large box in your arms.

“Those look kinda heavy.” Steve offered. “Why don’t you let me carry it?”

“It’s okay, I’ve got it.” Tony insisted. He plucked the box out of your arms. The elevator dinged and the doors opened up. You had arrived on your floor. Even from down the hall you could hear Halloween music playing and the sounds of kids laughing.

“They’re in the playroom, just down that way.” A nurse pointed you, Steve and Tony in the right direction.

The playroom of the children’s ward wasn’t very large. It was about the size of an average living room. There were three tables with four chairs gathered around each. There was a wall of cubbies stuffed with well-loved toys and a carpeted area scattered with beanbag chairs. All around the room children were playing, singing or dancing.

You noticed Thor had arrived ahead of you and Tony. He’d placed his hammer on a table and was allowing kids to queue up and take a chance at lifting it from the table. Peter was crouched down in the middle of the room. Nearly a dozen kids gathered around him. Each child was clutching a paper Spiderman mask in their hand, waiting for him to help them put it on.

“Oh, this one is really cool!” Peter praised as he studied the mask that a little boy had handed him. “I never thought of coloring my mask pink and lime green before. Would you like me to help you put this on?” The little boy nodded. Peter helped the boy put his mask on and offered him a hug before waving the next little girl in line forward. Peter looked up to see you, Tony and Steve entered the room.

“Hey everyone! Captain America and Iron Man are here.” He called drawing the attention of all the kids.

“You’re my favorite Avenger, Spiderman.” The little girl in front of him said.

“Mine too!” Tony agreed. He placed the box of stickers on a nearby table. “Who wants a Spiderman sticker?” kids from across the room scrabbled from their places to claim a sticker from Tony. While most of the kids were temporarily distracted, you snuck over to Peter’s side.

“Well, Spiderman, I think you accomplished your mission. You made these kids happy.” You whispered to him.

“I couldn’t have done it without you Mrs. Stark!” He whispered back. “Thank you for your help.” 

TAGS:

@thefanficfaerie​ @littlegasps​

[harringtonstilinski]

Reunited - Peter Parker

Author: @stilinskiparker Characters: Peter Parker x Apple Miller (OC) Word Count: 1,763 Warnings: angst, fluff, small implication of sexy time, italics are flashbacks A/N: Hi, friends! This is the first Peter fic I ever wrote. I got inspiration after seeing Endgame in theaters. Also; say hello to Apple! I really hope y’all like it. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

It was another day at Midtown High. Another boring day. Walking down the hall with my thermos filled with green tea, I made my way to my locker, putting in the code for the lock and opened the door, and looked at the pictures that were taped to the inside of it. Pictures of me and my boyfriend of two years, Peter Parker. 

See, about six months ago, he jumped out of the school bus, Spider mask on and all. I begged him not to go, but all he told me was that he had to, that the city needed Spiderman and he had to go and that he'd be back before I knew it. He never came home. I can still remember the conversation we had before he apparently went to space.

Peter, Ned, MJ, and I were all on the bus going on a field trip; Peter and I sitting together, MJ and Ned in their own seats. I leaned her head against Peter's left shoulder and smiled.

You see, Peter and I have been friends since we were kids. I was there for him when his parents died and then again when his Uncle Ben died. I’d been there through it all. Throughout those years, I developed a little crush on Peter. 

I was going to tell him at homecoming, but never got the chance. He had asked Liz Allen to the dance, and left me heartbroken. The pact we made after Uncle Ben died was broken. We had agreed we’d go together just as friends, but the day he asked Liz was the day that the pact was broken. 

Watching Peter walk out of the gym that night made me super curious, so I went to follow him, but was instead stopped by Ned.

“Let's go together,” he suggested and I agreed. That was the night that I found out that Peter was indeed Spiderman. He came to my house that night to explain everything. 

“You mean to tell me that you've been Spiderman this whole time and you didn't think you could tell me?!” I yelled at him. “What the freaking hell, Peter? We're supposed to tell each other everything. Trust each other.”

“I do trust you, Apple, I do. I really do. It just never occurred to me to tell you.” “Why not? You told Ned!”

“Ned found out because he saw me crawling on my roof.”

“Whatever, Peter. I want to tell you something, but...” I paused. “I don't think I can trust you.”

“Tell me.”

I was silent for a moment as I just looked at Peter all beat up and bruised. 

“I'm in love with you,” I whispered. “I have been since we were about 12 years old, so for about three years now. You're everything I've ever wanted in a boyfriend; you're sweet, funny, super smart, and-”

As I was saying all that, Peter walked forward, gently grabbed my face and placed a sweet kiss to my lips to get me to stop talking.

When he pulled away after a moment, he said “I'm so in love with you, too, App. I have been since Uncle Ben died. All I wanted to do was protect you. So, I thought that by not telling you, I was keeping you safe. When I was out fighting Liz's dad, he said something about you, and I couldn't handle that. He's in jail now, but-” “Peter, you're rambling. Can you please make your point?”

“Right,” he breathed with a smile. “Everything you said to me just now, it's the same. The exact same thing except you're also the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on. Don't tell May,” we shared a laugh. “I'm just gonna come right out and say it. Apple, will you be my girlfriend?”

All I could do was smile wide and kiss him again. “Yes, Peter.”

That was two years ago. 

I looked up at Peter and smiled. We shared a kiss and then Peter looked at his arm that was resting on the seat in front of them. He quickly turned and saw a big donut looking thing in the sky.

Reaching forward, Peter gently slapped Ned on his face.

“Ned. Ned, I need you to cause a distraction.”

Ned looked back and saw the donut, shouting, “We're gonna die!”

As he rushed to the back of the bus with everyone else, I looked at Peter with desperation in my eyes, knowing exactly what was going to happen as Peter put his web shooters on his wrist. It was then he looked up at his girlfriend with tears in her eyes.

“Peter, please. Don't go. Stay with me,” I pleaded.

“You know I have to, baby. I'm sorry,” he replied.

He placed a hand on my cheek and rubbed it gently with his thumb. I closed her eyes, a tear coming down her face.

“I need you here. Call it selfish, but I need you with me. I need to know that you're going to be alright and not die. I don't know what I'll do if you do.”

“Baby, I won't die. I'm gonna come back home.”

He released my face and reached around my to shoot a web at the emergency window and zipped to it. I followed him as he put his mask half way on and climbed out the window.

“You come back to me, Parker, or I'll kill you myself,” I tried to joke.

“I'm coming back.” He leaned up, gving me a passionate kiss that I gave back with all the love I had to give him in it.

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you so much more,” he replied. He leaned back down, pulled his mask over his face, and jumped off the bus. I watched as he swung through the city.

That was the last that I saw of the love of my life, Peter Parker.

 I was wearing Peter's Midtown High sweatshirt, a pair of sweatpants and my favorite blue Converses. I counted to ten and looked over her shoulder. 

Normally, about ten seconds after I would open her locker, Peter would be there, smiles and all. As I looked over though, I saw a boy, my eyes immediately welled up with tears.

I started walking towards the person, mouth agape. “Is this real?” I asked myself.

The boy looked at me and smiled the biggest he's ever smiled. He ran to me and picked me before putting my back down after hearing me sob for a minute. 

I placed her hands on his face. “Pete?”

“Hey, App.” 

All I could do was smile and give me the biggest kiss I'd ever given him.

“I can't believe you're back,” I whispered against his lips.

“I have so much to tell you,” he whispered back.

~~~

Peter told me about his adventures in space. He also told me what he'd been told about how Bruce put on the gauntlet Tony made to reverse the snap and bring everyone back. He also told me about how he saw Tony get all the stones from the gauntlet and how he basically sacrificed himself to do his own snap and send Thanos into dust as we were laying in his bed.

“So, wait. This big ass purple alien bastard snapped his fingers after getting these Infinity Stones and half of the population turned to dust, including me, and then we came back because Dr. Banner apparently put on a glove thing and snapped his fingers and reversed everything, and sometime in all this, everyone aged five years?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

I was quiet for a moment. As I thought this over, I pulled the bed sheet up a little bit higher against my bare chest, laying my head on Peter’s chest and listened to his heartbeat, feeling him put his left arm around my shoulder. 

“What are you thinking, pretty girl?” 

I sat up on my right arm and looked down at his eyes, still covering myself.  “Uhm, I didn't age 5 years and neither did you, which confuses the hell out of me. But you got to go to fucking space, Pete!” I said with a smile on my face.

We laughed as I laid back down, and I went quiet again as I thought about how to approach the next subject I wanted to talk about.

I sighed, “Are you and May gonna go?”

Peter knew who I was talking about. “Yeah. To, ya’know, pay my respects and all.”

I looked down at his chest and started drawing random shapes. 

“You can come with us...”

“I don't know, Pete. Mr. Stark was your mentor. I don't wanna come unwelcomed.”

“Hey, look at me,” he said, sitting up and rolling me to my back, putting a hand on my cheek. “You won't be unwelcomed. Everyone loves you. In fact, Ms. Pepper asked if you were going to come. So, I think they want you to be there.”

I searched Peter's eyes for any traces of a lie and couldn’t find any. 

“Okay.”

~~~

The day of the funeral came and went. While standing by the lake, I held Peter's hand, to reassure him that I was there and didn’t have any plans on going anywhere. That's all I wanted; to let Peter know was that I was there.

When we left the services, Peter came back home with me, where we spent a long night cuddling in bed watching movies… with the occasional making out. 

When we had to go back to school, we walked hand in hand. I hadn't seen Ned since that day on the bus and I looked up and saw Ned, all I could do was smile. 

He couldn't say or do anything other than hold his mouth open a little with tears welling in his eyes. I pulled on Peter's hand and pointed towards our best friend, walking over to Ned and hugging him.

All I could do was smile. Smile at my best friend and boyfriend reuniting.

I walked up to them and put her arms around them, singing “Reunited and it feels so goooooood!”

We all shared a good laugh before I added, “We're missing MJ, but still. The Three Amigos back together again.”

Peter looked at me and smiled before leaning over and kissing my temple, taking my hand in his and walking down the hallway with Ned.

“Now all we have to focus on is our upcoming class trip!” I beamed.

“With my favorite girl,” Peter smiled.

“I love you.”

“I love you most, pretty girl.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2: Sooooooo, what’dya think? Should I continue writing for Peter Parker? I was literally cringing as I was rereading this... Also; this is gonna sound so weird, but when I read Peter fics, I use the name Apple (don’t ask why.) It was so much easier for me to just type her name while writing this than it was for me to try and come up with a new name. Anyways, I hope y’all liked this, and I hope y’all like Apple for future fics and/or series I do.

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24​ @stixnstripesworld​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @quanticobae​ @mischiefandi​ @kellysashcroft​ @lauren-novak​​​

Peter Parker / Spiderman Taglist: @duskholland​​

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @stilinskiparker. 

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from Apple and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of the creators of Marvel and the late great Stan Lee. Our home slice Apple was made up all by me. 

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. 

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on November 17, 2020

[mlm-writer]

Another One Bites the... Endrega?

Gif source

Pairing: Platonic Geralt of Rivia (Game ver.) x Peter Parker (T.H. ver) Rating: Mature for violence Words: 2590 POV: Third Summary: After losing his parents, Peter makes the journey to Novigrad to live with aunt May and uncle Ben. However, the road is not without dangers. Fortunately, Peter has lady luck on his side. Note: Last of the crossover works! Also that spider got to bite Peter so often. I pulled on uno reverse card on that shit.  Tags: action, fantasy, mentions of death, canon-typical violence, fight scenes, monsters and mild Witcher 3 spoilers of what happens in Novigrad

Branches cracked beneath his feet, as he ran as fast as he could through the forest. The moon illuminated the night, showing him the way through the bed of leaves that covered his vision of the night sky. Peter was unsure if he should scream for help or if that would attract even more of these spider-like creatures that chased him. Lady luck was on his side as he saw light flickering in the distance. A smile spread over his face as he put the last of his energy into getting help. 

Peter screamed for help, when he approached the light. A figure with white hair that reflected the moonlight stood up from near the campfire. Yellow eyes made themselves clear in the dark and Peter knew he was saved. He ran past the man, stopping when he was behind him. The witcher grabbed his silver sword and Peter watched him slay the beasts, though not without struggle. Peter had not looked behind since he last caught a glimpse of one of those things, so only now he realised there were at least a dozen of them and the witcher struggled taking that many all at once. 

The blade swung with finesse through the air, the peeking moonlight reflecting off it, until it got stained with monster blood. One of the spider-like creatures bit the witcher in the leg. He tried to shake it off as his blade slashed through the other monsters. Even Peter could tell that the witcher had to free his leg soon or it was a lost fight. The young boy looked around, trying to find a weapon, but unless he somehow could get a hold of the second sword on the wither’s back, there was none. He had to think quickly. Act quickly. 

Peter lashed out and jumped the monster that had its teeth into the witcher and… gave it a taste of it’s own medicine. It let go as Peter’s teeth struck through a particularly soft patch on their body. It bucked and threw the boy off. Peter coughed, spitting out the blood that had gathered in his mouth. Head started getting fuzzy immediately. He hoped the witcher was alive. It sounded like it, but everything sounded muted, as if there was a wall between him and reality. 

He heaved, the air in his lungs prickling. Vomit covered the ground below him and he coughed, clutching his chest in pain. Strong hands lifted him up and placed him against a tree. “Do not swallow. Just rinse your mouth,” a low muted voice cut its way through his panic. Peter followed the instructions, taking the water offered to him. It did not help. Then suddenly, clarity as if there was a spell casted on him. It still hurt and he still felt like he was dying, but the panic was gone, he could think clearly of what to do next. 

“Listen, I could try to give you something, but it might kill you.” Peter understood. He nodded and reached out for whatever could either save or kill him. The alternative was just dying anyway. It was not hard to tell with the excruciating pain. He took the bottle, hardly looking at the red fluid, before downing it as fast as he could. More coughing. More pain. Then nothing.

---

Geralt sighed as he watched over the young man. Were it not for the boy’s foolish actions, he would have died today. The boy was sweating, his brown hair sticking to his forehead, but his face looked pale enough for him to be dead. The witcher threw another stick into the fire, trying to keep the boy that saved his life warm. At least he was not dying of hypothermia. 

The fact that the stranger was not screaming from pain was a good sign, but that did not mean he would make it through the night. Night turned to day and Geralt awoke to the sound of a coughing fit. He helped the boy sit up and handed him some water. Once the boy was no longer coughing, their eyes locked. “Thank you, master witcher,” the boy spoke hoarsely. 

“You are lucky to be alive. Biting an Endrega was really stupid.” The boy nodded and sat up, arms shaking. “You are also lucky to survive ingesting a witcher potion. I think you might even pull through this, kid.” He nodded again, understanding his situation. A small smile spread over his lips when he got the news he was probably going to survive. “What’s your name?” 

The boy looked at him with a hazy gaze. He seemed to think very hard, before he could answer. “Peter,” he ended up saying, “sorry, my head is all fuzzy.” Geralt placed a hand on Peter’s head. It felt really hot. 

“You’re running a fever. Your body is still burning through all the toxins. Where are your parents?” The boy looked down. Right. The war. Another orphan then. 

“They died. I’m heading to my aunt in uh…” He paused, thinking again. “Novigrad.” Geralt huffed. This boy was probably lady luck’s own bloody son. 

“That’s where I’m headed. I’ll drop you off at a healer there.” The boy thanked him over and over until he got caught in a coughing fit again. “Don’t mention it. I drop you off and we do not owe each other anything.” Peter nodded, finally shutting up. 

The journey to Novigrad was a long one. Peter was weak, only getting a little better each day. He had to rest a lot, but he was good company. Geralt could see he was the type to chat his ears off, but speaking brought Peter into a coughing fit, so words were rare. Geralt learned Peter’s parents died in the Battle of White Orchard. Peter was also good with horses or at least with Roach. There was nothing out of the ordinary with the farmer’s boy, but there was something special about him too. 

Peter tried to offer his mother’s ring as payment for the escort, but Geralt did not accept. By the time they closed in on the gates of Novigrad, Peter seemed to be doing well enough to get home on his own. He insisted he finished the journey on his own two legs and Geralt had business to tend to, so their ways parted at the gates. After finding Dandelion, he thought he was done in Novigrad. After all, Ciri was not there, but Geralt’s path was bound to converge with Peter’s once more. 

Geralt needed coin for the journey to Skellige. There was a contract on a ‘giant, humanoid, red spider’. It apparently attacked some people. It was a menace to track down. Tracks ended on walls that even Geralt could not climb. There was no distinctive scent either. He followed the trail of thick, abnormally strong spiderwebs to a house near Oxenfurt Gate in the Bits. Downstairs was a workshop that looked untouched for a couple of weeks. Spiderwebs spooked in the corners, but none matched what he found on the buildings in other parts of the Bits. 

“Anybody home?” He called out. Feet rushed over the first floor and headed to the stairs. Geralt watched as someone came down the stairs, skinny but muscular legs, followed by a lean body and then… a very familiar face. 

“Geralt!” Peter exclaimed joyfully. In a flash Geralt found himself being hugged tightly by the boy. He froze, unsure what to do. “It is great to see you! Look!” Peter stepped back and did a little dance. “I’m all good and healthy!” The boy paused, then frowned. “Wait, what are you doing here?” 

The witcher looked around, eyes scanning over the workshop that looked abandoned. “What happened to this workshop?” Peter’s smile disappeared. He cleared his throat and looked down. 

“Uncle Ben died. It was his. I uh… meant to pick up his work, but… it’s just hard to touch his stuff.” Geralt answered with a grunt and a nod. He stepped around, careful to not touch anything. “You need anything? I can make stuff as well. Combs, mirrors, machinery components, you name it. I’ll make anything for you at half the price…”

“I’m looking for the red spider man that has been attacking people ‘round here.” Geralt was right. Peter really could talk a lot. Dandelion would love him. Peter grew awfully quiet. Geralt could hear his heart pounding rapidly. When he looked at the boy, there was no eye-contact. “Peter, if you know anything, you need to tell me. This thing could attack you too.” 

Peter finally looked up, shaking his head. “No! It is not like that! I mean…” He moved around restlessly. “Spiderman saved me! He does that a lot! He attacks bandits and other bad people. He would not harm me.” Lies. Geralt could tell, but he wondered why Peter would lie about it. 

“This spider man attacked some commoners.” “Maybe those commoners were attacking someone else.”

Geralt raised a brow. That was a really quick answer. “Peter, I am not asking again. What do you know?” Peter seemed to get smaller under his threatening gaze. He mumbled something that even Geralt could not hear. “Speak up.” Peter took a deep breath, before speaking in a small voice. 

“I’ll lead you to Spiderman. Meet me at midnight behind the city walls, between Oxenfurt and South Gate.” “Just tell me where he is. No need to bring you into danger as well.’ “Like I said, master witcher, sir, Spiderman will not harm me or any other innocent person.” “You don’t know that.” “But I do and you will too, tonight.” 

The boy fidgeted in place. He offered the witcher a cup of tea. Geralt refused and left. He had some other matters to attend to, before leaving for Skellige. It was raining that night. The moon was hardly visible, only a thin crescent hung in the sky, leaving that night’s illumination to the flickering fires from the city. Geralt’s witcher senses were triggered when he heard something behind him. Down from the wall came a figure clad in red with a mask that reminded him of one that Dandelion wore during his scheme with Sophronia. Geralt reached for his silver sword, but stopped when the figure stood before him. Even at a distance, Geralt could recognise the faint scent of that neglected workshop. His first thought was that Peter got eliminated, before he could meet Geralt, but as the spider man stood before him, he noticed a similar build, a similar height, a similar way of cowering before the witcher. “Peter?”

The figure reached for his mask and indeed, as the leather came off, there was the scared, but unnecessarily brave boy from the forest. “Hello, Geralt, sir,” the boy almost whispered. Geralt lowered his arm, sighing. “How did you climb that wall?” 

Peter smiled a little and walked back to the wall. “You see, some things changed after I bit that spider thing…” “Endrega.” “That! I think it interacted with that potion you gave me.” “Gotta note that down…”

“And now I can do this!”

Peter jumped and scaled the wall while sticking to it like… a spider. Geralt stared at him, unsure of how to react. He nearly got a heart attack when Peter jumped off the wall when he was near the top. He rushed to catch the fool, but from the boy’s wrist came something that stuck to the wall and Peter hung from it, upside down, right in front of Geralt’s face. “I can also shoot webs like a spider,” the boy proudly announced. Geralt sighed, rubbing his temple. 

“Peter, did you attack people?” The boy came down and nodded shamefully. 

“Yes, but I only attacked bandits and some whoresons that were harassing elves! Please, Geralt, you must believe me… sir.” Geralt could tell he was honest. It was not about believing him or not. 

“You need to stop. You might get hurt. The witch hunters might even want to put you on the pyre.” “Let them try.” 

Geralt raised a brow. Peter stood before him, clad in red like a junior Dandelion and arms crossed like a child. He was a child, a ridiculously stupid child. “What you’re doing is dangerous and you need to stop. You don’t know what these… powers are. You’re healthy now, but you might not be for long.”

“And what about you?” Geralt raised a brow at the boy again as he walked closer. “You go around helping people with your special powers, why can’t I?” “I am trained to do this.” “Then train me.”

Geralt let out a sigh of resignation. He wanted to send Peter to Kaer Morhen, but he didn’t trust him to get there alive or even find the way. “No.” Geralt tried to walk away, but quicker than he ever saw any normal human move, Peter was in front of him, blocking the way. 

“What if I can take you on in a fight. Not win, of course, but I bet I can stand against you for a minute.” “You have gone from foolish to just arrogant.” “Give me a chance! I can do more than climb walls and swing from a web… please?” 

“Fine, if you survive a minute, I’ll train you, but, if I floor you within that minute, you get rid of the stupid costume and never attack anyone again, bandit or otherwise.” “Deal.” 

---

Peter was afraid he might have overestimated his abilities, but all he had to do was not be floored. Fortunately they agreed to no weapons. “Time goes in now,” Geralt announced and Peter expected him to pounce right away, but it seemed the witcher was waiting as well. Peter stayed alert, his new, sharp senses noticing how slow Geralt’s heartbeat was in contrast to his own, pounding his chest like it was trying to get out. 

Then finally, Geralt lunged forwards and Peter barely dodged him. He rolled over the floor and got back up with great finesse. Yellow eyes narrowed and scanned his body like it was determining the price of a horse. Peter swallowed a lump in his throat, before dodging again. For now, that was all he was doing. He knew better than to try something funny or to hope for Geralt to get exhausted. With one close call, Peter found himself behind Geralt. He took the chance to give a quick, albeit not hard, kick against the witcher’s back, before dashing backwards. They had drawn a circle on the ground, he barely stayed in it. 

It ended up being the only strike Peter would give. Geralt was simply not as fast as Peter and while Peter had taken a pretty good blow to the head, he was still standing after a minute. When the time was up, a sigh left the white-haired male. “Fine, but you will have to come with me to Skellige. I still need to find Ciri.” 

Peter let out the air he held in his lungs and collapsed on the ground, tired from dodging like his life had depended on it. “Your daughter, right? I’ll… have to leave aunt May for a while, but I’ll be back, right?” Geralt gave him a look that said ‘yeah, sure, maybe’ and Peter found it rather ominous, but he also trusted the man enough to keep him alive. “I’ve never been to Skellige. What is it like?”

Geralt did not spare him a look as he put his equipment back on. “Cold. We leave tomorrow at noon.”

[takenbyemrys]

Merry Christmas Peachy!!! For @peachy-keener for Parkner Secret Santa event

---

Peter laid his head down on his books. He let out a muffled groan as Ned patted his back. MJ rolled her eyes from across the table. They were trying their best to get a last minute study session in before classes started.

“Come on, loser, it’s english,” MJ said. Peter huffed and sent her a mild glare.

“Says you.” Peter said. “All you ever do is read.”

Ned chuckled. “He’s not wrong MJ. English is so much easier for you than us.”

“Help us Michelle Jones, you’re our only hope.” Peter snickered as he said it, earning an eye roll.

“You’re both massive losers. It’s not that hard. But fine.” She leaned forward and began explaining just where they were wrong. MJ was halfway through her explanation when she was interrupted by Principal Morita walking up to their table. A tall girl followed closely behind him, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

“Oh you three will do,” Morita said. “Peter, MJ, Ned, this is our new student, Abbie Keener. Abbie is a junior, but she’s going to be taking a lot of senior classes, so I want you three to show her around.”

With that, he nodded to the four of them and walked out of the library.

MJ snorted. “Okay then.”

Peter, however, jumped up and grinned. He held out his hand to Abbie. “Hi, I’m Peter!”

Abbie raised an eyebrow at his outstretched hand but reluctantly reached out to shake it.

“Nice ta meet ya.” Her southern twang was rich.

“You too, Abbie.” Peter waved to the empty seat next to MJ. “This is MJ, who was oh so graciously helping us not fail English. And this is Ned.”

Abbie nodded to them, but otherwise said nothing.

“It was gracious of me, wasn’t it?” MJ smirked. “Why was I doing it again?”

“Because if you didn’t, we wouldn’t be going to NYU together next year,” Ned said. MJ huffed. “And what would you do without your soulmates?”

“Y’all are soul mates?” Abbie asked, clearly trying to assess the relationship with her eyes.

“Yeah, we’re all platonic soulmates,” Peter explained. He held out his left arm that had two phrases tattooed on it. MJ and Ned held out their wrists as well. “For me, the top one is Ned, because I first met him. Ned and MJ’s first was me too, even though MJ met us at the same time.”

Abbie studied his wrist, where the first phrase said ‘Do you like star wars?’ and the second said ‘Sup Losers.’

“Cool. My Brother’s my platonic.” She held out her left wrist. Peter saw that it said, ‘Hello, little sister.’

“Oh that’s adorable.” Peter grinned. Abbie grinned. Most people thought it was weird that her brother was her soulmate. “So, where are you and your brother from?”

“Tennessee,” Abbie answered easily. “My brother and I moved up here because he started at NYU this semester.”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Oh cool! Are you planning on going there too?”

“Probably,” Abby explained with a grin. “I think i want to travel first.”

MJ nodded. “Same. Hard debating ditching these losers.”

Ned grabbed his chest, giving her an exaggerated gasp and the ultimate eyes of betrayal before crying out, “You would never!”

“Yeah, sorry MJ.” Peter shrugged. “After the whole ‘soulmate’ thing, you can’t really pretend not to like us.”

“I don’t know,” Abbie teased. “I’ll ditch my brother and you ditch them, and we can hit Europe.”

“The three of them can look after each other.” MJ agreed. She paused, looking between the boys. “Well, maybe.”

“Oh my god,” Peter gasped. “Ned, it finally happened. MJ found someone else who’ll be just as mean to us.”

He then wailed, burying his head in Ned’s shoulder. Ned, for his part, hugged Peter close and pretended to weep as well.

MJ stood up, both annoyed and affectionate. “Alright losers. Come on. We have class.”

“Ugh, I don’t want to go to class,” Peter groaned. Despite his dramatics, he looked to their new friend. “Abbie what classes do you have?”

Abbie pulled a schedule out of her backpack and handed it to them. It took only a few seconds for all three to look back up at her eagerly.

“Sweet!” Peter said. “You have most of your classes with us.” After he finished, he grabbed Ned and led the way out of the library. MJ snorted and pulled Abbie after her.

“Alright, Keener,” she said. “Looks like we’re adopting you.” --------

After that, Abbie easily merges into their friend group. She shares almost every class with at least one of them. This gives them all plenty of time together (especially she and Peter) and allows her to open up more. Her and MJ get on like a house on fire, making Peter and Ned sometimes wonder how they aren’t platonic soulmates, or maybe even romantic soulmates. Regardless, there’s nothing between them like that and they just all click. Abbie ends up invited to movie nights, lunch, and the occasional Aunt May sponsored thai food. She raises an amused eyebrow everytime Peter has to go to his ‘internship’ and everytime he has sprint out right after school.

It happened one day when Peter offered to walk Abbie home. He was rambling on and on about nanotechnology when it hit her. It hit her so hard she stopped walking, gaping at Peter.

“Abs?” He asked, eyebrows drawing in concern. He reached out and grabbed her shoulder. Abbie jolted out of her trance at his touch.

“Sorry. Just contemplating the inescapable chasm of loss in regards to abandonment.” Abbie pressed her lips together, trying to stop the onslaught of invasive and horrific thoughts. It was only natural. Harley and Peter were soulmates. There was no doubt in her mind that these two idiots would fucking love each other. The only problem was Abbie. They would run away together, and do science, and completely forget about her.

“Fucking mood. Literally my entire existence.” Peter snorted. Abbie raised an eyebrow.

“Who abandoned you?” She pried.

“Besides everyone? My parents dumped me on May and my Uncle Ben’s doorstop when I was like nine. Then, Ben died in my arms last year after a robbery. So, i get it. Whatever you got goin on, you’re not alone, and I’m not gonna abandon you. Never will.” Peter gave her a sad, lopsided smile, and Abbie melted. She launched herself at Peter, wrapping her arms around him. Peter gasped as Abbie knocked the wind out of him, but instinctively reciprocated.

“You’re great, ya know that Parker?” Peter shook his head and slung his arm around her. He led her down the street.

“I’m something. So, I shared. Who abandoned you?” Peter squeezed her shoulder. “Besides everyone?” Abbie smirked. “Dad left when I was a baby, but mom did the emotional abandonment thing. All I ever had was Harley.” Abbie shrugged. “Hopefully I’ll always have Harley.”

“Well, I’ve never met the mysterious brother whose never at your apartment, but based on everything I know about you and him, he wouldn’t leave you either. I mean he drug you all the way to New York because he refused to leave you at home didn’t he?” Abbie looked up.

“How in all seven hells did you know that?” She asked. Peter shrugged.

“Best guess.” He gave her his best dimples and a wink.

“You’re too smart for your own good Parker. But, I still appreciate it.” Peter stops at the door of her apartment building. “And for the record. I won’t abandon you either.” Peter lit up like a christmas tree. “Now get outta here. I know you have stuff to do.” Abbie winked and sauntered through the door. Peter shook his head, but slipped into the alley next to the building.

---------

“Does he really believe he’s bein’ subtle about the whole Spiderman thing?” Abbie asked one day, watching Peter sprint across the courtyard. MJ rolled her eyes and Ned gaped at her, already trying to find excuses to explain Peter’s behavior.

“Unfortunately.” MJ despaired.

“Ya know. I think it’s time y’all met Harley.” She was still staring after Peter.

“Because?” Ned asked.

“Because I just have a feelin’.” Abbie said as explanation. “We can go meet him now, if you’d like. Then y’all’ll definitely know what I'm talkin’ about.”

MJ shrugged and closed her book. “Might as well. Ned?”

“Why not?” Ned nodded.

Abbie led the duo through New York, stopping at the entrance to a run down garage. “You’re sure he’s here?” Ned asked. Abbie held up her wrist, staring at the invisible string she knew was there.

“Yep. I’m sure. Come on.” Abbie pushed opened the door and led them through the waiting area. Music boomed the minute she opened the door. ACDC almost burst their eardrums. When they reached the garage portion, MJ raised an eyebrow at the sports cars, while Ned was too preoccupied with the state of the art parts strewn around the room. “Yo, Harls!” Abbie yelled over the music, pointing to a car with it’s hood up. They noted the shirtless man leaning over it. He stood up and yelled at the ceiling, turning off the music. He pulled a rag from his pocket and wiped his hands.

When he turned around MJ snorted. Ned grinned.

“Ya’ll must be Abbie’s friends. I’m Harley.” The southern dripped off his lips, sweeter than tea.

“Well, fuck Keener. You had a feeling, huh?” MJ asked. Ned shook his head.

“Just a feelin’.” Abbie answered.

“I’m missing something.” Harley said, his lips twisting into a scowl.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Ned grinned at him. “I’m Ned, this is MJ.” MJ jerked her head, smirk still dancing on her lips.

“Peter couldn’t make it. But, i’ll bring him by tomorrow, if thats cool?” Abbie asked.

“Yeah, you know that’s cool. So, y’all go to nerd school?” Harley asked.

“The nerdiest.” MJ confirmed.

“Is that the beginnings of a sublight engine?” Ned asked, pointing to a massive pile of parts on a nearby cart.

“Hell yes!” Harley grinned. He began to explain how he was making it. MJ leaned toward Abbie.

“This is the best feelin’ you’ve ever had. And i’m personally upset you didn’t tell me sooner.

“It just hit me a couple weeks ago. There’s no way they aren’t soulmates.” MJ grinned at Abbie, who hip checked her.

“When are you bringing him? I so want to see it.” MJ stared at Ned, a rare soft smile on her face.

“Tomorrow for sure. I wanted to make sure y’all agreed with me. We can do the exact same thing.”

“Do you know what Harley’s soulmark says?” MJ aked. Abbie grinned evily.

“Oh yes. And you won’t want to miss it.” Abbie collapsed on a couch near the wall and watched Ned and Harley nerd out over Star Wars and mechanics.

“Fucking losers.” MJ said fondly, sitting next to Abbie. They stayed for another hour, plotting the lovely demise of Peter Parker into the abyss that was Harley Keener. Ned and Harley kept getting more excited as the moved from engine to engine. MJ pulled Ned away after a while, offering to walk him home. As soon as the door closed, Ned turned to her with a grin.

“MJ. He’s fucking perfect.” Ned vibrated with excitement.

“Intelligence?” MJ asked.

“Off the charts. No way they won’t be on the same level. Also, did you see the abs?” Ned asked.

“You mean the ones literally showing through his shirt? I saw. The honeyed accent is no slouch either. I’m thrilled to see what happens tomorrow.” MJ hugged Ned when they reached his apartment and practically skipped to hers.

-----

“I can’t believe I missed meeting Harley!” Peter groaned.

“We’ll go back today so we can meet him,” Abbie rolled her eyes. Peter lit up, a grin gracing his lips, and his dimples gracing Abbie. After class MJ and Ned led the way to the garage, having a heated debate on MJ’s latest book. Abbie was studiously ignoring Peter as he tried to pry information out of her.

“Come on, you never tell us about him. I’ve been so curious. I mean he’s your platonic soulmate and that’s adorable.” Abbie rolled her eyes at him.

“You’ll meet him in just a minute, Parker. Calm the fuck down.” Abbie bumped his hip against Peter’s. The boy huffed and crossed his arms. MJ opened the door to the shop, and they were once again blasted with ACDC. Peter’s eyebrows jumped in surprise.

Harley was working on the same car when they walked in, but this time, he was under it. Abbie walked up and hit the hood of the car. Harley’s legs jerked as he jumped in surprise.

“Ow! Fuck! Abbie!” Harley rolled out from under the car and jumped up, glaring at his sister. She gave him a sweet smile.

“Sorry Harls. Just letting you know we’re here. Also, you didn’t meet him yesterday. This is Peter.” Abbie flung her arm out, pulling Peter out from behind MJ and Ned. Peter’s eyes widened, following the line of grease smudged on Harley’s neck.

“Oh you. Fuck me.” Peter muttered. Harley grinned and leaned back onto the car. Harley held up his wrist that said ‘Oh you. Fuck me’ in Peter’s notorious chicken scratch.

“Maybe not now, but hopefully soon, darlin’.” Harley smirked as Peter’s eyes widened. MJ and Ned were trying their hardest not to laugh. Peter held up his matching wrist and grinned.

“Well, who'd've thought.” Abbie smirked, grinning between the two who she now thought of as her brothers.

[chronicowboy]

May had spent the last months keeping Peter from drowning in the much too familiar waters of loss. They were inhospitable, inescapable and unnavigable even for a teenager with wisdom beyond his years and strength beyond his humanity. His fourth unwilling foray into grief wasn't any easier, May thought it wildly naive of herself to think that the amount of times you experienced something so painful could even factor into the ease of recovering. Especially, considering she had lost her husband when Peter lost his uncle. She supposed that was why she had naturally fled to Pepper's aid, whenever Peter didn't need her, at the news of Tony Stark's death. Why did he have to lose someone else? It was just a shadow in the light, she reminded herself, it'll always be following him — us — but it won't eclipse his world. But why did the world push him so forcefully into adulthood when he hadn't even been a child?

Of course, even in her own darkest hours, the woman only ever thought of her nephew. She remembered seeing him for the first time in five years, apparently, although it only felt like five hours since she'd seen him disappear onto a spaceship that haunted her sleep through the lense of a news camera. She remembered wrapping her arms around him like she'd never let him go, she wasn't planning to, and lowering the broken boy to the floor after a third installment of losing a paternal mentor. Her vow to protect him at all costs was one she knew she couldn't keep despite her best efforts because of his other self and her insignificance to the universe. She wouldn't know that her impact on Peter's life spiralled into the fate of the world. She'd never know. For May was too preoccupied with her self-proclaimed destiny of helping her nephew, her son, through his grief.

When Peter came home from school — his shoulders a little less drooped, his eyes not as sunken, his mouth turned up more than turned down — and told her that he'd be going to Europe with his class, she was shocked to say the least. And, although she hated herself for it, she felt a weight lift from her chest and she only just managed to hold back her sigh of relief. She helped him pack, watched him resist the urge to take his suit, used a minuscule fraction of the money Tony left for them to buy him a plan that would allow him to text and call her from wherever he was. Happy drove them to the airport where she gave him a perhaps too long and too tight hug, but Peter only embraced her enthusiastic worry. Even when he was still repairing himself, he tried to put others back together too.

In his absence, May visited Pepper for a few days and helped take the weight of being a single mother and CEO of the biggest tech conglomerate in the world. Or she tried with the first half of her duties. She gave Pepper many long diatribes on how she returned to a new version of normality after Ben whilst successfully cooking a meatloaf for the first time. Not wanting to intrude, she returned to her very empty apartment for a night of crappy television after work.

It was on one such evening when she sat on the remote and flipped to the news. 'Spiderman mysteriously appears in Europe' and the footage of Peter running away from fire crawling up a wall appeared on the screen. Her heart paused for a dangerously long time and her stomach seemed to be doing more gymnastics than Peter did when he was trying to show off to Queens. She watched, entranced by her anxiety. Her gaze was only interrupted by the ringtone of her phone. Instinct possessed May to answer the call.

"I know, I've seen it. The little idiot. He's learnt that recklessness when wanting to impress you, Tony." The words died on her lips as reality hit her along with Ned's voice.

"May? May?" There was panic dripping from his words.

"I'm watching, Ned. Are you alright?" The twinge of loneliness twisted in her chest, but she had a duty as a mother.

"He- what?" Her heart broke for the second time that night at the surprise in his voice.

"Are you safe, Ned? You and Betty and MJ?" She pushed.

"Um, yeah, yeah we're safe. Happy's got us." He told her and she felt they were a bit safer. "He, Peter, he's got back up. Some green, floaty guy."

"Ned, have Peter call me after he's done. You guys focus on getting to safety, okay? I'll get someone we know we can trust over there." She hung up and scrolled through her contacts, finger hovering over Tony's name.

It was tradition, on nights where Peter was in some stupid danger, for the two adults aged more than they should be by the boy's impulsive behaviour to call the other and talk themselves through it until he was home safe. May hadn't known how much she'd miss the calls once he was gone. How could she have known? But now she did and she was realising that Tony Stark's death was having more of an effect on her than it had originally had. She didn't care that he'd lied to put her son in danger. She cared that he'd concealed the truth as asked to by her nephew to help his dreams come true. She couldn't care less that he let the stubborn boy go to space. She cared that he tried to protect him and send him home. She didn't care that he got Peter's last words. She cared that he brought him back. She cared that he'd left him and her. She cared that he left them money even when he didn't know that they'd come back. She cared that he cared.

May pressed on the contact labelled 'James Rhodes' and listened to the phone ring. Tony trusted him like a brother. Peter trusted him like a playfully mean uncle. May trusted him as an ally in the foreign game of superhero dumbassery.

Peter returned two weeks later, looking more exhausted than she'd ever seen him. But he looked happier. Happier than he did before he left. Because that mission disguised as a vacation proved that he was still Spiderman, still Peter Parker, and he could save people without Ironman, without Tony Stark. May didn't even think about the strength of her hug this time. He was alive. He was better. And, in the midst of their embrace, May swore she heard Tony's voice on the wind,

"I'll look after him, May."

Peter heard it too,

"I wanted you to be better." Not angry this time, but soft and safe.

It wouldn't get easier, couldn't when his legacy was interwoven into everything around them, but they could learn to live with it. Not with the absence of him, but the abundance of his care that was so often overlooked because people couldn't be bothered to look past his maks of arrogance born in insecurity.

[sapphiclecterarchive]

the babysitter - fic

Fandom: MCU, Spiderman

Character(s): Peter Parker

Desc.: In which Peter is trusted with a child.

A/N: i’ve never posted any fics on tumblr so i thought i’d give it a shot! this will also be on my ao3 if you fancy sending it some love over there. SORRY if this is indecipherable, it was written in 3 days in amongst a mad panic to finish art coursework

WARNING FOR ENDGAME SPOILERS. SO MANY SPOILERS. OH MY GOD THERE ARE SO MANY SPOILERS IN THIS

Peter really isn’t expecting the call.

May is working a late night at the shelter, which she’d explained with a concise note left in the middle of the kitchen counter, underneath a twenty dollar bill for takeout. The takeout guy is the only person he’s expecting to encounter this evening, besides the Instagram group chat which buzzes every two minutes and John Mulaney on Netflix. That’s until his phone rings.

The number isn’t saved on his phone, so he almost doesn’t answer it. It’s only when he realises that it could be May calling in an emergency, or Ned or MJ or anyone else, that anxiety forces him to pick the phone up. The line between his Spidey senses and generalised anxiety disorder is a thin one that he treads very carefully.

“Hello?”

The woman on the other end of the line sighs in relief, “Peter, thank God you picked up.”

He recognises her voice instantly - from the news, from the battle, from the funeral. He scrambles to find the remote and pause the TV.

“Mrs Potts? Why are you — what is — uh — how are you?”

They haven’t spoken since the wake, when she’d hugged him and let him cry into her shoulder. His heart seizes at the memory of her calm composure, supporting a boy she barely knew while he fell apart over the death of the man she loved.

“I’m doing alright, thank you,” she answers. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Okay.”

“Would you be able to babysit Morgan for a few hours?” Peter’s hand freezes on it’s way to the bag of Cheetos next to him on the couch. “I wouldn’t normally ask with such little notice, but I have to do some stuff for the Foundation launch, and our regular sitter fell through.”

“That’s no problem at all,” Peter says, without even thinking about it. “I didn’t have plans, anyway.”

Pepper exhales with relief, “That’s amazing. I’ve sent Happy to pick you up, he should be there soon. Thank you so much, this is such a big help.”

As soon as he places his phone down, Peter realises that he knows absolutely nothing about taking care of a kid, and that he’s currently in nothing but ratty sweatpants and an old sports jersey.

He practically launches himself over the back of the couch, abandoning his show and his takeout to race into his bedroom. His pyjamas are replaced with black jeans and a thick wool sweater over a tshirt, and he just manages to comb through his hair and spray himself with deodorant before his phone chimes from the couch and he races to check it.

Unknown Number: Outside. – Happy

He texts May to let her know where he’s going while he bounds down the stairs. Sure enough, Happy is waiting on the sidewalk, leaning up against a black car.

To Peter’s surprise, Happy ignores his offered handshake and instead pulls him in for a hug. The embrace lasts a long few seconds before Happy pulls back, his hand lingering on Peter’s shoulder. “How you holding up, kid?”

“Okay,” Peter says. Happy opens the passenger side door for Peter and rounds the car to get in behind the wheel. The doors slam, and Peter talks over the starting of the engine. “School’s getting intense, and — uh — everyone’s getting excited for prom. But, uh… Yeah, that’s sort of it.”

Happy glances at him out of the corner of his eye as he pulls the car out into the road. “Prom, huh? You got your eye on anyone? Planning a…. what do you call it? A promposal?”

Peter thinks about MJ, about Ned, about Betty, about the guy in his physics class who always lets him share his textbook when Peter forgets… “I haven’t really thought about it, uh, with everything going on.”

“I getcha, kid.” They come to a slow stop at a red light. “These past months have been pretty intense… I haven’t really known what to do with myself, to be honest.”

His voice has grown quiet, and the last word of the sentence almost dies completely. Peter looks over at him as he scrubs a hand over his face. Is he crying?

Happy is covering his face with one of his hands, now, shoulders shaking minutely. Peter has no idea what to do. What are you supposed to do when your dead mentor’s assistant who hated you not that long ago is suddenly crying in front of you?

“Uh… Happy?” He gets no reply. “Happy?”

“Yeah, kid?” Happy looks up at him, his eyes tear-filled and puffy but a supportive smile on his face all the same.

“The light’s green.”

As if on cue, the car behind them beeps it’s horn, spurring Happy into moving the car forward.

Pepper Potts is waiting for them when they arrive at the house. It looks no different to how it did at the funeral, and it upsets him a little to look at the front porch and the small dock where they’d stood to say their final goodbye. She gives him a very brief tour of the house, and an explanation of Morgan’s bedtime routine. Apparently, she has already had her bath and her dinner, so the only thing Peter has to do is put her to bed by eight.

“There’s enough food in the refrigerator and the pantry for you to make yourself something to eat, feel free to watch whatever you want on the TV, and I should be home by eleven, but if you’re tired by then you’re welcome to sleep in the guest room.” She pauses, taps her fingertips together as if checking off a list, and then drops her hands and smiles warmly at him. “I really can’t thank you enough for doing this.”

How could he have said no? He understands more than anyone what grief feels like, and if the obvious exhaustion underlying her composed expression is anything to go by, being suddenly thrust into single parenthood has taken its toll on her. He remembers May wearing the same expression after his Uncle Ben died, and he knows now how much she’d needed an extra pair of hands.

“It’s really no problem, Mrs Potts.”

Her petite hand brushes his elbow, “Please, call me Pepper.”

She then crouches down to say goodbye to Morgan, and he politely looks away, for some reason he feels like that moment deserves privacy.

“You’ve got my number, so if there’s anything you need you can either call me or Happy, okay?” she assures him.

“Okay, Mrs — Pepper.”

She smiles, nods, and gives Morgan one last kiss on the cheek before leaving.

“We’ve got about forty minutes to kill before bedtime.” He looks down at the young girl. “What do you want to do?”

“Cartoons!” she exclaims, a gleeful grin on her pudgy face.

“Cartoons?” He turns toward the couch, expecting her to follow him. She grabs three of his fingers with her small hand and walks ahead of him, as if guiding him to the couch. He doesn’t have to wonder where she gets that from.

“Cartoons,” she clarifies, jumping up onto the couch with a huff.

He sits next to her and picks up the remote to start looking for the kids’ channels. “What’s your favorite cartoon?”

“Spongebob!” she says around her thumb.

It takes him all of five minutes to scroll through the entire TV guide and finally assess that there isn’t one channel currently playing an episode of Spongebob. Or any cartoons, it seems. He’s about to give up, when she holds out her hand.

“Remote.” The ‘R’ is more of a ‘W’, and she makes a grabby hand toward the remote until he passes it to her.

“There are no channels playing cartoons…” he begins to explain, bracing himself for a five-year-old temper tantrum. Instead of screaming or crying, however, he’s greeted with the familiar opening note of the Spongebob theme tune.

When he looks at her, she’s looking back at him with a cheeky grin. “How did you figure that out?”

“Mummy got it on the TV for me.” Her speech is pretty advanced for a five year old, but it’s obvious how hard she’s working to get her words right. “She said so I can watch it when I’m sad.”

His eyebrows knit together, and he fears sounding like a counsellor - or a parent - but he can’t help but ask, “Are you sad a lot?”

She shrugs, jams her thumb in her mouth and talks around it, “I watch Spongebob a lot.”

He ends up watching her more than he watches the cartoon, mesmerised by her starry-eyed expression as she watches the bright colours flash across the screen. They reflect in her big brown eyes, which he knows that she inherited from her dad. She also inherited her stubbornness, apparently, because even when her eyelids begin to droop and she can hardly sit upright for sleepiness, she doesn’t give in. She refuses to doze off until the end credits of the episode are rolling, and then she almost instantly collapses, snoring lightly, onto the couch cushions.

Careful not to wake her, he slips his arms underneath her armpits and lifts her. Her arms and legs wrap around him sleepily, making it much easier for him to carry her upstairs without fear of dropping her. He pushes the door open with the heel of his shoe, uses his right hand to continue supporting Morgan’s weight while his left pulls back the covers on her small bed. Once he’s placed her down and tucked the blanket up to her chin, he follows Pepper’s instructions of shutting the blind, turning on the nightlight next to her bed, and leaving the door slightly ajar when he eventually steps back out into the hall.

The TV is still displaying the paused credits of Spongebob when he sits back down on the couch. He wants to go onto Netflix and carry on with what he was watching earlier, but he feels like it might be a bit of an intrusion to use Pepper’s personal Netflix account, so he settles on a channel that seems to be only playing reruns of Family Guy.

His phone buzzes, and he glances at where it sits next to him on the couch.

Ned: Deathmatch?

Peter can’t help his smile. After Thanos, and everything else that’s followed, the simple things like playing Overwatch with Ned - even if he loses every time - make him so much happier than they would have before.

Peter: can’t tonight, am babysitting.

The next message from Ned comes through almost immediately.

Ned: Who tf trusted U with their kid?

Peter: ikr

Peter: pepper needed an extra hand w morgan

Ned doesn’t reply, so he assumes that the match has started and settles down onto the plush couch cushions. He scrolls through his Instagram feed, through photos posted by people from school and the odd celebrity. Until, eventually, he dozes off with his phone still in his hand.

A loud bang makes him start awake what feels like five minutes later. His phone slips out of his hand and onto the floor, the bang it creates making him startle again. He sits up blearily and stretches until his back pops. Through the windows, he can see nothing but black. His phone screen, when he picks it up to check, tells him that it’s just past nine-thirty. He hadn’t planned to sleep at all, let alone for an hour and a half.

Everything in the house still seems intact, and it doesn’t seem like Pepper is home, so he assumes that the bang was caused by the dog door, or something similar. Nevertheless, a residual anxiety forces him to his feet. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as he trudges up the stairs toward Morgan’s room.

The door is still slightly ajar, and the light from the hallway illuminates a strip of her polka dot duvet cover. He pushes the door open more, expecting to see her still tucked up tight and fast asleep.

She isn’t in her bed.

Peter’s stomach flips.

“Morgan?” he calls, hoping that she’s just hidden somewhere and will pop out giggling.

She doesn’t. He flicks the light on.

“Morgan?” He rounds the bed to check the other side, which is also empty.

She’s not hiding underneath the bed or in the wardrobe, and he checks every single room upstairs for her. But, she’s not in Pepper’s room, the guest room or the bathroom.

“Morgan!” he calls again as he races down the stairs. The downstairs bathroom is also empty, and she isn’t in the living room or the kitchen.

As he races back into the living room, his eyes lock on the front door. He can’t remember locking it behind Pepper, and he’d been woken up with a loud slam…

He throws open the front door, looking out onto the lake and the front garden, until there’s a small cough to his right.

There she is, her small form curled up on the rocking chair, thumb in her mouth and eyelids heavy with

He softens his voice to try and mask his panic. “What are you doing out here?”

“I can’t sleep,” she explains quietly. Her body seems to betray her there, though, because she lets out a yawn almost immediately.

He really doesn’t know how to get a stubborn kid to go back to sleep. He thinks back to when he was a kid, and how May would convince him to go to bed.

“You can have milk and cookies if you come back inside.”

She shakes her head.

“Juice pops?”

He remembers seeing them in the freezer earlier, and he assumes that she’ll be moved by the offer. She isn’t, and shakes her head again.

“I want to talk to daddy,” she says.

Peter’s brain takes a second too long to reboot, because she rolls her eyes and continues like he’s missed a very obvious point. “Mummy says that daddy can hear me if I sit here and talk to him.”

This is the first time this whole evening that Peter realises how much she must miss her dad. For the past few weeks, he’s felt like he’s been on autopilot, like there’s a vital part of him missing. So he can hardly imagine how she feels; she probably doesn’t even understand that he’s never coming back.

He doesn’t remember when his parents died, but he remembers asking May about them. He remembers the frown that would tug on her mouth every time he did. He remembers how much that frown would confuse him. They’re in a better place, she would say, so why would she look so sad?

He understands the questions she probably has, he understands how overwhelmed she must feel, surrounded by sadness and falseness and feelings that she doesn’t yet understand. All she needs is some normality.

“I think daddy would want you to wear a jacket outside.”

She pouts indignantly and crosses her arms to let him know she isn’t going anywhere.

Knowing now that she isn’t being moved, he grabs the hem of his sweater and tugs it over his head. The hair on his arms immediately bristles against the cold, his t-shirt doing nothing to keep him warm.

He crouches in front of the chair so that he’s level with her, sweater held between them.

“This sweater belonged to my uncle Ben. He’s in the same place as your dad, but before he went, he gave me this sweater. Do you know what he told me when he gave it to me?” She shakes her head. “He told me that it would protect me against anything, and it can protect you, too.”

He remembers Ben passing it to him while they were queueing for the Haunted Mansion at Disney World. Peter had forced him and May to queue for almost two hours, only to get too scared and start sobbing as soon as they got closer to the ride. The sweater was supposed to be a mode of persuasion for a then nine year old Peter, but it’s his most treasured item, and memory.

After Ben had died, the only thing Peter wanted to keep was the sweater, and ever since, he has worn it whenever he needs extra comfort.

He’s been wearing it a lot recently.

“Anything?” Morgan repeats, eyes wide. “Even monsters?”

He laughs, “Even monsters. Do you want to put it on?”

She nods enthusiastically, and he silently praises himself for his quick thinking as he helps her pull it over her head. It’s too big for him, so it covers almost her whole body, and the sleeves are about twice the length of her arms. She looks a lot warmer and happier, though.

She reaches out to him, and he doesn’t understand what she wants until her hands pop out of the sleeves and open and close sporadically in a move which he reads as “pick me up”.

He picks her up around her waist, her arms wrapping around his neck, and then turns to sit on the chair. She shifts around until she’s sideways on his lap, facing the lake, her head cushioned on his shoulder and her hands pulled up under her chin. The sweater cocoons her like a swaddle.

“Can you tell me a story?”

He doesn’t know any stories for kids, unless the classic, Disney movie fairy tales count.

“Do you want a story about your dad?”

She nods, the movement clear against his shoulder.

“Okay.” He wills himself not to cry immediately at the memory of his mentor, not wanting to freak the kid out or undo the hard work Pepper has undoubtedly done on making this whole situation seem lighter for her. “When I met your dad, I’d just gone through a big change…”

He recites the story of Germany, and then, when she asks for another, the stories of the boat and of Titan. They’re shortened, censored, and the latter is missing the part where he turned to dust for five years, but they’re true. Calmed by the stories, and smiling at the talk of her dad, she eventually falls asleep soundly against his shoulder. He looks down at her serene face, and he hopes that she remembers the good things about Tony, he hopes that she’s dreaming about him. He hopes that she dreams about building pillow forts with him, about him carrying her on his hip while doing important research, about him tucking her into bed and kissing her forehead.

Pepper gets home not long after Peter has tucked her back into bed.

“Was she okay?” she asks in a whisper, although the house is definitely big enough to talk at full volume and not wake the sleeping girl.

“She was a dream.”

A small, relieved sigh stirs her fringe. “Good. I really can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s honestly fine,” he says. “I had fun.”

When he unlocks and pushes open the door of the apartment, May is in her pajamas on the couch, watching some reality TV show. She looks over the back of the couch when she hears the door close, and smiles. She seems tired, as she always does after working overtime, but she’s wearing her fluffy pink socks, which means that she’s happy.

“Good night?”

He sits next to her, slowly tipping sideways until his head lands on her bent knee. Her hand automatically goes to his hair, stroking the top of it like she used to when he was small and would sit on the floor between her knees while her and Ben watched TV. Then, she moves her hand to his upper arm, and her palm feels boiling hot against his skin. “You’re freezing.”

As she tugs the throw blanket over him and pulls him closer to her side, he realises that he didn’t take his sweater back.

[gravityfall]

Heeey, imagine, Peter finds Ben's killer and starts fighting with him, and it gets all crazy and Karen alerts Tony and he goes where Peter is and needs to stop him

Oh yes please give me angst!

This has been in my askbox for the longest time but I couldn't find time to finish it, but after all, here it is!!

Wreak havoc

It was a normal night for Peter Parker - go on patrol, stop some fights ... So when he heard yelling he thought it would just be another easily solved conflict. Web up the criminal, make sure the victim was okay and go on his merry way. But he was a Parker, it couldn't be that easy.

He went towards the place the shouting came from, jumping between buildings and leaned on a lamppost when he arrived at the scene. A man wearing a black mask was pointing a gun at the head of a boy kneeling on the ground, shaking. A bag of fast food was strewn along the sides of the alley. Peter shuddered.

After a moment of doubt, he jumped to the ground, landing quietly behind the man. "Hey!"

The robber turned around, bewildered, and Peter took the opportunity to remove the gun with a web. The man charged against him, as Peter jumped behind him, placing himself between the attacker and his victim.

He turned to look at the boy who was still lying on the ground, his face blank with shock.  "Run! Go away!"

The boy tried to stand, and after managing it, stumbled back and ran. Peter looked at the man again who was trying to retrieve the gun thrown across the alley and wrapped it with a web before he could reach it.

"Let's leave the gun for now, okay?" Peter came up while the man tugged trying to free the gun. "Now I'm going to stick you to the wall where you’ll wait until the police come for you."

Peter lowered his guard as he tried to get Karen to contact the police when a fist hit his cheek. 'Ow '. The man fell back when Peter pushed him and started to laugh.

"Do you really think you are the good one? Fighting criminals? Don't- " Peter grabbed the man by the neck of his shirt and pinned him against the wall.

Forgetting completely to contact the police, he decided to take care of the criminal on his own, get his hands bound, find out his identity and walk to the nearest police station. It wasn't the most efficient nor the most comfortable, but at that time he couldn't come up with any great idea.

Ignoring the man who was writhing under his grip hitting him on his side while trying to break free, Peter raised his mask and felt like throwing up, he knew this man.

His opponent blinked quickly, a surprised expression covering his face, so hauntingly familiar that Peter stopped breathing.

He had seen him more times in his dreams than he could count, always with the same expression of disgust, but this time it was the first in a long time.

He still looked at the same as that night a year ago, although the look he was giving was much less furious, no less surprised, in the bad way, that a Parker had ruined his game of unknown identity.

Now Peter was 15, almost a year older than when he saw Ben being shot twice in the chest, by the same man who was now writhing in front of him.

Peter grabbed his arm tightly and brought him to the height of his face, a small tattoo of a snake protruding from the black sleeve.

It was impossible not to notice, he could have recognized it even by simply the voice, he had spent the first few weeks of his new double life up and down the street that had been recently stained with blood, memorizing every feature he had managed to see from the murderer when his uncle took his mask off while trying to stop him.

The corners of his eyes were filled with tears, his feet were rooted to the cement, the takeaway the other boy had dropped a while ago, slapping onto the ground, just like that night a year ago.

Peter couldn't hear anything but the echo of the screams the lady behind him made when his uncle was shot and the sound of a phone his ears picked up at the end of the street, dialing 911.

The man escaped from his now weak grip and hit him before Peter could react. His head was spinning and his breaths became quicker and shallower. He saw the man run towards the end of the alley, the web reached him even before he noticed he shot it.

He began to tremble, but ignored it, and charged at the man in blind fury, the man hit the wall and Peter kicked him without pause, screaming at the top of his lungs trying to vent.

The street behind them was, fortunately or not, empty, unlike the illuminated street where the noise of the cars was muffled, so there wasn't anyone who could hear them, Peter and the man's screams resonated over the silence.

"Why?!" Peter cried.

The man stared at him.

"Why did you do it ?!"

"What?"

"Tell me!" Peter couldn't see the man through his tears but he could hear the confused noises he was making.

It was the third week after the shooting when he went out and bought a blue and red hoodie with a mask and he wore a homemade suit for the first time. He needed to clean the streets from people like the man in front of him.

"I- I don't know what you're talkin' about, I-"

"Stop it! Stop lying!" Peter's cries sounded drowned because of the sobs that ran

through his body.

"I'm not- I'm not lying, I swear!" The man growled when he hit the wall again and punched Peter.

"Yes! It was a year ago, you were robbing at-at Delmar's, my-my u-uncle tried to-, h-he was, you-"

"Oh yeah," the man laughed, "h-he really thought he could stop me, didn't he? What an idiot, right? "

"Shut up! Shut up! You don't-" Peter cried loudly.

The man managed to hit him while Peter tried to balance his breathing through the mask and the criminal laughed.

"Oh, are you his little nephew? Looking for revenge for your poor old uncle?" He asked sarcastically.

"Don't! Shut up! Sh-shut the fuck up". Peter beat the man careless, not being able to see through the rage.

The man stopped laughing, looking like he just understood the situation he was in, they moved away from the wall while Peter sobbed.

"Look, kid, I-" the man coughed, "I'm sorry, I didn't even remember about it, you can't- please, I'm sorry but let me-"

"No!" Tears keep falling and they piled up at the corner of his eyes because of the mask, making Peter's blurred vision, "you ruined my life!"

He could remember the anguish in every defeated line of May's body, this man didn't deserve his forgiveness, he made Peter feel like dying, like if he was being torn apart. He punched the man harder and harder.

The man stumbled and his head hit the ground with a thud. Peter pulled away before the kick caught up with him and he fell to the ground beside him.

The criminal tried to sit up and leaned over him, knocking non-stop, the blood soon stained Peter's face, making his right side explode in pain while his eye went numb.

He managed to get out from under him and tugged at the collar of his shirt.

They told him Ben was dead before he hit the ground. They told him it was quick and painless.

He didn't want it to be painless now, he didn't want it to be quick, he wanted the man to suffer as much as he and May did.

He didn't want to see Ben's blood stained under his nails anymore, no matter how many times he had scrubbed to get it out. He still had some things to do.

All he could see was red.

"K-Karen, activate instant kill mode," he whispered.

The man seemed not to hear him and again tried to stand up, Peter's foot pressed against his chest, waiting to hear the sound of ribs crackling.

"I'm sorry Peter, but I don't see you're in imminent danger."

"Do it!" He shouted while trembling with rage, the man looked at him as if he had gone crazy, with a frightened look that he didn't think anyone could be able to do while looking at him.

"I can't do it without evaluating the situation before," Karen's voice sounded too calm in contrast to Peter's furious.

"I can't wait! Activate it now! "

"I'm sorry but I can't". Karen disconnected and heard an unusual whistle, though he didn't know if it came from his head or from the suit so he decided to ignore it.

He crouched down on the man again, ready to finish him off on his own when the world around him did a flip. Peter shouted and the blood splashed the floor and stained part of his face, his head hurt and the silhouette happened to be under him to be on top, Peter didn't even notice when the man turned him.

Despite the knock and the sticky feeling on the back of his head, Peter continued staring at the man, jumping between consciousness and unconsciousness.

He felt something liquid dripping down his neck as the man grabbed the edge of the mask and pulled it up, ready to take it off. Peter cried and tried to get rid of the grip, writhing softly while his shoulders trembled with sobs.

The noise of the horn in the next street alerted the man and the hand moved away from the face of Spiderman, the mask remained resting on his nose, leaving more space so that the short breaths, previously inaudible, resonated through the alley.

The weight that had previously rested against his chest disappeared and he heard a thud at his side. Peter found his chance and turned to the side, kneeling beside the man, not believing he had the strength to get up and pull another person.

The man finally seemed to notice the movement on his left and looked at him alarmed before a fist hit his face.

The blows increased at a constant.

There was a rustle and blood stained the red glove, the blood that came out of the murderer's nose had a metallic smell that made Peter want to vomit.

He could have saved Ben, he told himself every night, but he didn't, and now he had the opportunity to avenge him.

"Please! Stop!" Peter cried.

He thought of May's eyes the first time she went out after Ben had died.

She was afraid to go out alone.

He didn't want anyone to be afraid.

He could have saved Ben, and with every purse snatcher or would be mugger he stopped, he remembered Ben’s eyes, staring up and up, reflecting the lights of the windows around them.

That's why he had to finish with this kind of people. With this man. The man who had ruined his and his aunt's lifes, who had probably ruined more and more lifes before and after the night Peter lost everything. He didn't want that to happen again.

The man grabbed the neck of his suit and the two of them rolled down the alley, suddenly the noise of the cars could be heard louder and he realized that it had been a miracle that no one had heard them.

Peter's eyes ached at the light of the streetlights on the sides of the road, the man next to him moved and got up hard.

The man's features lit up with the orange light and Peter shuddered, bruises strewn all over his face and neck, his nose twisted and the blood dripped from it and his hairline. He seemed on the verge of death.

Peter looked at his hands.

"I-" he tried to approach the man. Honestly, he didn't know what he was expecting.

The man stepped back in terror, with a frightened look that he didn’t think anyone could make while looking at him.

Everything happened in less than a second, the man, Peter and the car advanced at the same time, the noise of the horn and the screams mixed in a filthy noise.

And then ... nothing.

His vision was a blur, he didn’t dare to look around, he heard a skid down the side the car had just left behind, more shouts from people inside the other cars, but still, nothing, not from the shattered figure in front of him.

His head seemed to be floating elsewhere

He felt very overwhelmed and small standing in place so full of people, everybody staring at him, whispering, the figure of the man seemed to be looking at him accusingly.

Peter ran.

He was disorientated. His surroundings were a blur. He kept running and running until his legs failed three streets below and he collapsed against a wall. Sobs soon flooded the alley. He didn’t even remember how to breathe

He didn’t realise he wasn’t alone, until someone said, “Kid-”

The words tried tumble out even before he could fully recognise it was Tony walking towards him, but his throat closed up and no sound escaped his mouth. Peter’s head was bent over his knees, fists pulled tight around his calves. He was shaking.

The words tried tumble out even before he could fully recognise it was Tony walking towards him, but his throat closed up and no sound escaped his mouth.

“Peter, look, I-”

Peter wanted to tell him, simply because he wanted Tony to tell him that everything was fine, but at the same time there was something compressing his chest, that didn’t let the words come out, that made him think that maybe if he just let it go and didn’t tell anyone, it’ll just go away.

Warm hands gently pryed off his mask. He didn’t try to pull away, or fight back, because there was no energy left in him to resist anything anymore.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He couldn’t bring himself to respond so he just tried to muffle a small sob and clutched his arms.

He could hear the police a few streets further, probably wondering what happened, trying to find Peter, to punish him, because he was just the aspiring superhero who killed a man while looking for revenge, he was a coward, he did what he thought was okay at the moment, he-

Then it all stopped. The noise, the people talking some streets behind. It all went away. Tony sat by his side and put his hand down on Peter’s shoulder.

“I know how you feel,you’re okay, you’re fine," Tony said softly, “please”.

There was something warm about it, Tony’s hand rubbing soothing circles into the tense muscles there and before he realized and Peter flung himself into Tony’s waiting arms as he cried, breaths hitching as they interspersed with the violent sobs that seemed to push his pain outward.

He broke.

He gasped like an idiot between each sob. He should be embarrassed about the tears and other gross things he’s wiping down Tony’s probably expensive shirt, but he can’t find it in himself to be so. He was exhausted.

“He was- I- I was ju-just-”.

“Shhh, I know, I’m here, don’t worry”.

He breathed deeply, trying to get used to the cold night air and to calm his breathing and met Tony’s eyes.

“I’m here, don’t worry”, Tony whispered softly, “don’t worry”.

[trashcanmarvelfan]

Aftermath (A Peter Parker Introspective Fic)

Summary: Peter dealing with the effects of Endgame, pre-FFH.

Warnings: ENDGAME SPOILERS. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Word Count: 1821.

Author’s Note: Just processing my post-Endgame feels and working out some headcanons. Takes place post-Endgame, pre-Far from Home.

Requests are always open!

Cross-posted at AO3.

Peter Parker sighed as he slammed his locker shut. It had been a month since the snap that had wiped out half of the universe (including himself) had been undone, a month since Thanos had been defeated for good, a month since… Well. He swallowed thickly. At least it was Friday. He could go home and pretend like a world without Tony Stark didn’t exist for the next 2 days.

His phone buzzed with an incoming text:

Pepper really needs to see you. It’s important.

Peter rubbed his eyes. Happy. He had been texting Peter for the past few weeks:

- Hey, kid, how you holding up?

- Haven’t heard any Spider-Man updates, you patrolling Queens?

- Need you to come by the office when you get a chance.

- Pepper has something to discuss with you at Stark Industries.

- Really need you to swing by S.I. when you can.

He clicked his phone off without responding and walked toward the exit. Mr. Delmar’s bodega was still around, maybe he could stop there–

He burst out the door and stopped in his tracks.

Happy stood waiting in front of the usual nondescript black town car. “Hey, kid. You haven’t been answering my messages.”

“Well, you know…” Peter adjusted his backpack. “Been busy.”

Happy gave him a ‘I know BS when I hear it’ look. “I need you to come with me.” He opened the back door of the car and waited.

Peter sighed. Might as well get this over with. He climbed in.

To his immense relief, Happy didn’t try to make conversation on the way to Stark Industries. He merely parked and escorted Peter up to the lobby leading to Pepper’s office. “Wait here,” he instructed.

Peter thought about bolting, but the nearest train station was at least 3 miles away and he didn’t have his web shooters on him; and besides, even if he had had his web shooters he was sure that the last web fluid he had made had long since disintegrated.

A few minutes later, Happy returned. “Go on in.”

Peter walked down the hall to Pepper’s office and knocked on the open door.

“Hi, Miss Potts – Or actually I guess it’s been Mrs. Stark for a while now, huh?” he said, shuffling his feet nervously. “You, uh, you wanted to see me about something?”

Pepper walked out from behind her desk and pulled Peter into a tight hug. “Hi, Peter,” she said softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.  “Come on in.” She gestured over to the couch.

Peter took a deep breath and sat.

“How are you holding up?” Pepper asked, taking a seat next to him.

Peter shrugged, keeping his eyes trained towards the floor. He had a feeling that Pepper already knew - that he had woken up screaming almost every night since that final battle. That every time he closed his eyes he saw the light fading from Tony’s ARC reactor. That he never got to tell Tony just how much he meant to Peter - that Peter saw him as more than just billionaire Tony Stark, as more than Iron Man, as more than just someone to admire and look up to. Tony was much more than a mentor to Peter - he was the closest thing Peter had to a father since Uncle Ben had died. And now he was gone.

Pepper looked at him sympathetically. “Listen, Peter… I’ve arranged for psychiatric and grief counseling for all of Stark Industries’ employees who were affected by the snap.” She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Including our interns. I already talked it over with your aunt and principal, and you’ll be given an excused absence on Monday to talk to Dr. Lansing.”

Peter blinked back tears. “Ok,” he said softly. “Do they– do they know? About me being Spider-Man?”

Pepper shook her head. “She knows that you were working personally with Tony before the snap and that you two were very close. Anything else you tell her is up to you.”

She took a deep breath. “Peter, the main reason I had Happy bring you here today is because Tony included you in his will.”

Pepper got up and walked over to a table, picking up a silver case and placing it on the coffee table in front of Peter before sitting next to him again.

Peter hesitated. He knew what that had to be.

“Go ahead, open it.”

Peter glanced at Pepper before placing his thumb against the sensor. The case beeped once before opening to reveal a new red and black Spider-Suit.

“Tony had made this before the Snap and was hoping to give it to you once you graduated from high school,” Pepper explained. “After the Snap he kept updating it in case we were able to bring everyone back.”

Peter just stared at the suit. “He… He kept working on this? Even after… after I…” He trailed off.

Pepper nodded. “And there’s something else. Education was extremely important to Tony, so in his will he founded the ‘Stark Industries Educational Scholarship for Technological Advancement of the Sciences’, or the ‘SIESTAS’ grant for short.  It offers full tuition including room & board, plus a stipend for books and food to a student studying technology or science to the college of their choice, with an option to renew the scholarship for a masters’ program & Ph.D. as well.” Pepper paused. “He named you the recipient.”

“Wow, that’s– that’s amazing.” Peter was at a loss for words. “Thank you.”

Pepper smiled softly at him. “Tony talked about you a lot, you know.”

Peter looked up at her in surprise. “He did?”

Pepper nodded. “I wish you could’ve heard him sometimes. He was so proud of you and everything you’d accomplished.”

Peter’s eyes filled up with tears again. He sniffled. “And I always thought Mr. Stark barely tolerated me,” he joked weakly.

Pepper shook her head. “You were so much more than just a mentee or an ‘Avenger-in-training’ to Tony, Peter. Even though he never got to tell you, he loved you like a son. You made Tony realize that he wanted to be a father, and for that I’m forever grateful because although Tony may be gone, the best part of him lives on. So thank you.”

She picked up a framed photo of herself, Tony, and the little girl that Peter had learned was Tony and Pepper’s daughter, Morgan. Pepper caressed the photo softly before setting it back down. “Before Tony and I found out that we were having a girl, he said that if we had a boy, he wanted his middle name to be Peter.” She paused. “So instead, Morgan’s middle name is Petra.”

Peter’s Greek wasn’t too advanced, but he did at least know that ‘Petra’ was the feminine version of ‘Peter.’ He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Pet– Petra?”  

“Tony wanted you to know just how much you meant to him – to us.”  Pepper took Peter’s hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re part of this family, Peter– you and May both.”

She stood. “I’m so sorry I have to cut this short - I have a meeting with the shareholders to go over some projects for next quarter. We’re going to do an official announcement of the SIESTAS grant at a later date with a presentation and everything, but I did want you to know about it as soon as Tony’s will was read.”

As if on cue, Happy knocked on the doorframe to Pepper’s office. “You ready to go, kid?”

Peter nodded numbly.

Pepper hugged him once again.

“Thank you, Mrs. Stark,” Peter replied.

“We’re family, Peter. You can call me Pepper.” She released him. “Don’t be a stranger, alright? I mean it. Morgan’s been wanting to meet her surrogate big brother properly.”

Peter smiled sadly. “Thank you, Pepper.”  He picked up the case with his new suit and followed Happy out of the office.

Once Peter arrived home, he opened the case and took the suit out to examine it.  Stark tech had always been way more advanced than most technology, but this… Tony definitely had made some upgrades to Peter’s suit in the past 5 years.

Peter hadn’t worn his Spider-Suit since the day the Snap had been undone and they had defeated Thanos. Even though they had won, he still felt like he had failed because he couldn’t save Tony.

He sighed and hung the suit up.

He was working on his homework when May arrived home. “Hey, Peter!” she called out.

“I’m in here, May!” Peter called in reply.

May knocked on his door then opened it a crack. “Hey, how was your day?” she asked.

“Fine,” Peter replied. He bit his lip. “I, uh… I went by Stark Industries after school today. Mrs. Stark - I mean Pepper - she wanted to see me.”

“Oh?” May asked nonchalantly.

“She mentioned that she arranged counseling for Stark employees, and I… I have an appointment on Monday.”

May visibly relaxed. “That’s wonderful, Peter. I’m proud of you for accepting help.”

Peter nodded. “But that wasn’t all she wanted to talk about. Mr. Stark… Tony… left me some things in his will.”

“He did?”

“He gave me a 4-year scholarship to any college I choose, with the option to renew the scholarship for a Master’s degree and Ph.D if I choose to pursue them.”

May’s eyes widened. “Wow, that’s so generous.”

Peter gestured toward his new suit. “He also left me a new Spider-Suit.”

May put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “He obviously cared a lot about you.” She paused. “Have you tried your new suit on yet?”

Peter shook his head. “Not yet. I…” His voice broke. “I just miss him so much, May.”

“I know, sweetie,” May replied, sitting next to Peter on his bed and wrapping her arms around him. “I know.”

She held on to Peter for a few more moments. “Just remember that those we love are never truly gone, ok? Tony would want you to continue on.”

Peter sniffled.

May kissed the top of Peter’s head and stood. “Now, I’m going to go make us some dinner and you join me when you’re ready, ok?”

Peter nodded, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

May exited Peter’s room and shut the door behind her.

Peter sat quietly for a few more minutes, just staring at his suit. Finally, he thought, May’s right. Tony *would* want me to continue on. The world needs Spiderman.

He stood and picked up his new suit. Here goes.

He stripped down to his boxers, pulled the suit on, put on his mask, and pressed the spider on the front of his suit to fit it to his frame.

He took a deep breath as he waited for his AI, Karen, to boot up and greet him.

Instead of Karen, however, the updated AI voice was one he had never expected to hear again.

“Hey, Underoos.”

[crimefighting-spiderling]

Love, your friendly neighborhood spiderman

!!!ENDGAME SPOILERS!!!

Warning: suicidal thoughts, and suicidal attempt.

Loss. Peter knew that he’d never get used to it, though he wished he did. Maybe it’d make life easier, or at least grieving would be.

His parents died before he could make memories with them, his uncle had died in his arms May had died during the snap, a driver who was one of the fifty to be dusted had driven into May. The hospitals were understaffed, if at all, and she, along with hundreds of others hadn’t gotten the treatment they needed.

And finally, Tony had died. Sacrificing himself to save the entire universe, and with great power, comes great responsibility. And when you use that power responsibly? You have to pay the price for power. Tony’s charge was death.

Peter believes he died with Tony.

Peter got along with the team, Cap was like an old grandpa, Clint was the cool uncle, along with Rhodey, Sam, Bucky, and Vision. Wanda was like a sister, Carol was the aunt who came by every so often, and once they returned the soul stone, Nat was also an honorary aunt. Pepper was like a mother when he saw her, Morgan, was his sister.

They tried to get him to talk, to one of them, to Sam especially, or a therapist.

He never did, no use saving the dead, Peter reasoned.

Months passed, and Peter seemed to finally be getting better. He noticed the team’s relief, they all looked more relaxed around him, they didn’t check in as much, they finally felt like they could rest.

Peter was not better.

He wasted oxygen, space, paper rewriting and rewriting his final note. He wanted it to comfort others, and say it was coming for a long time because, to be honest, it was.

The team all met up together once every month to check in, hang out, and make sure team morale was up. It was movie night and it was Cap’s turn to pick, he picked a star wars movie, Peter didn’t know which one. He wasn’t paying attention to the movie.

“During the 70 years, I missed these movies.” Cap claimed though Peter believed Cap could tell he wasn’t feeling well.

Once the night was over Peter said his good nights and retreated to his room. Sighing, Peter wrote his final message and left the compound, telling Friday to say he was asleep if asked.

Natasha woke up at 8:00 and wandered into the kitchen not long after. Sam and Bucky were eating breakfast.

“Hey Nat” Sam greeted and Bucky echoed.

Natasha hummed in response while getting cereal, “Where’s Peter? The kid is usually awake by now.”

“Dunno. Friday?”

“Young sir is still asleep.”

“Did he have a nightmare? How long has he been asleep?” Sam asked, concerned.

“Is he ok?” Bucky added

“Young sir did not have a nightmare, he hasn’t been asleep yet, and I cannot access his vitals.”

For such a worrying statement, Natasha thought, Friday was awfully calm. “Where is he?”

“Young sir has left a note, would you like me to read it?”

Everyone looked at each other, and Bucky nodded.

“Hey whoever finds this. This is going to sound cliché but, I’m sorry. I thought I was strong enough to win this fight, you’d think I would be because all I’ve been through, but maybe it’s time for me to rest.” Friday began and ice slammed into Natasha’s veins, remembering what Pepper said to comfort Tony while he died.

“You can rest now Tony.”

“Mr. Stark had always teased me for my curiosity ‘Be careful Parker,’ he would say ‘curiosity can kill.’ And I remember I would always respond 'I am a spider, not a cat.’ Mr. Stark always sounded like he regretted saying 'That means you’re 8 lives short, kid.’ He said it every time, though.”

Natasha noticed that the others, minus Pepper and Morgan, had entered each looking like each word was hurting them.

“I’m glad, now, that I’m not a cat. That means I’d have to die nine times for finally be allowed to rest. I’ve never been poetic, Ben was the one who could create worlds with words. But I figured that it’d be nice to end where my relationship with Mr. Stark really began. I’ll be sure not to leave a mess, it wouldn’t be fair if someone had to clean it up. For a while, after the reversal, my curiosity paused, though recently it’s taken over me. The only thing that I can think about is what the taste of a bullet would feel like.”

Natasha couldn’t breathe anymore, she was frozen, terrified. She could see Bucky desperately trying to track him down, Rhodey was trying to figure out what Peter had meant when he said where their relationship started. Everyone was doing something.

Natasha had to calm down her breathing and refocus and started helping Bucky look for Peter.

“I’m afraid, though, I already know the answer to my question. Freedom. It will taste like freedom and rest. Once again, I’m sorry. I’ve fought for so tired, and I think I’ll rest now. Love, your friendly neighborhood spiderman.”

Peter didn’t think death was supposed to hurt this much. He knew he must have been dead because he could see Tony. And everything was white, with a light, light blue as the floor.

Tony ran and hugged Peter, and he melted. Peter didn’t know he was crying until he heard his mentor murmuring into his hair “Calm down Spidey, it’s ok.”

“I missed you.” Peter cried into Tony’s shirt, he didn’t want to let go.

Tony sighed and kissed the top of Peter’s head. “I know kid, but you’ll have to go.”

Startled, he jumped back. “Sir- Tony what do you mean? I don’t- I don’t want to go, sir, please!”

Tony looked like he was crying, and sounded like it. “I know kid, I know. I know you are tired, and I know that you can’t just retire like everyone else did. I know that you’ll fight as long as you can still stand. Trust me, I know.” Tony let out a small, dry laugh at the end.

Before he gave time for Peter to respond, he had led them to a pond that seemed almost a tan white. Looking at Tony, who just lifted his eyebrow in the way that he always did when he said ’You can figure it out, just trust yourself.’

Taking a deep breath, Peter looked into the pond.

The first thing that Peter saw was himself.

He saw himself on the floor of the warehouse that fell on himself so long ago. The warehouse that gave Peter nightmares, nightmares that Tony had always comforted him after.

Seeing him dead felt… disappointing, almost dissatisfying. After so much, Peter hadn’t died saving someone or died because he refused to help hurt others. He died because he gave up.

Next, he saw the team. Everyone was mourning. They had all gathered in the common room, none of them speaking. Peter’s old videos, from before Thanos, were playing.

“Queens. It’s a rough place but hey- it’s home.” Peter had said in a deep voice.

Hearing a quiet, small sob, dead Peter turned to see Morgan.

Morgan, his baby sister.

His baby sister wasn’t meant to be crying. She was meant to be great, better than Peter, Tony, and Bruce. She was going to rebuild the world into something better than it was ever before.

She was curled into Pepper who had also clearly been crying. Morgan was wearing one of Peter’s hoodies (One that he stole from Mr. Stark) and it was clearly way too big on her. The hood could have completely covered her face without stretching and the sleeves could have been used as jump ropes.

He would have laughed if she wasn’t crying. Instead, he scolded himself. Even while dead you still hurt people.

He was pulled out of the pond, and he noticed that he was crying also. Peter looked up at Tony who was smiling sadly.

“It’s not your time, Spiderling.”

Peter nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Tony led them to a door, which made Peter laugh, it was so cliché.

Peter hugged his mentor one last time before he turned to leave. Just as he was about to close the door he heard Tony say goodbye.

“Hey kid, if you ever do this again, May and I will kick your ass.”

Wow! Ok, this got a lot longer than I thought I was going to be. And a hell of a lot angstier. I might continue this, and reveal the team’s reaction to Peter being alive. Reblogs and likes are appreciated greatly!  

[imagine-loki]

Of Numbers and Strange Friendships

TITLE: Of Numbers and Strange Friendships CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 15/? AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki being friends with Peter Parker RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: None so far.  Also on AO3 here

“What’s the number today?” Peter asked as they strolled the streets of New York in costume.

“That depends on your answer to the following: what exactly is this?” Loki asked as he stared at the Midgardian food Peter had handed him while they were out on patrol after they’d finished Peter’s homework. Peter was a growing boy and starving all the time and Loki was Asgardian and a bottomless pit, though not as bad of one as his idiot brother. They often bought food while they were out on patrol and Stark left them money just for the purpose of making sure Peter was fed and happy.  

“It’s a hotdog,” Peter replied.  He’d lifted the bottom of his mask up above his mouth so he could eat.

Loki looked dubiously at the meat? in the bun in his hand.  Plus all of the glop on top of it.  “Are you sure this is edible?  The meat is… questionable…” he’d probed it with magic and didn’t want to know what it was made of after that.

Peter laughed.  “C’mon Loki, everyone here eats them.  New York is famous for their hot dogs.  You have to try it, at least.  If you don’t like it we’ll go to that cafe you like and get you a slice of cake,” he offered.

Loki huffed. “We are doing that regardless, spider-child,” he teased his friend, which just made Peter light up in laughter.  He stared dubiously at the hot dog for another moment before he took a bite of it.  

“Well?? What do you think?” Peter demanded once Loki had swallowed.

“Edible,” Loki finally admitted. “Though I doubt it will ever be among my favorites,” he pondered Peter’s original question.  “Three. Two after we get that cake,” he said with a wistful expression.  Sweets were his weakness and Peter wasn’t above using them to bribe the god.  

Peter chuckled and they wandered in the direction of the cafe Loki liked, eating their hotdogs as they walked. They stopped a couple of robberies on the way and Loki lit up in delight when he finally got his cake.  The cafe had taken to setting a slice aside for him in case he showed up on afternoon patrol. He always made sure to tip well when he did stop by.  After Peter had explained the concept of tipping, of course. 

Peter seemed subdued as they left the cafe, something was on his mind.  Loki looked him over thoughtfully.  “What is on your mind, arachnid?” he asked.  He was as careful as always not to address Peter by name while they were on patrol. Peter didn’t seem to mind the nickname.  He knew it was a nickname of friendship.  He could usually gauge Loki’s mood by what nickname the god chose for him that day. 

Peter sighed.  “Sorry, it’s just a hard day…” he hedged.  Loki was a patient hunter and just looked at his friend, his adopted little brother, expectedly.  Peter sighed heavily again before he answered.  “It’s the anniversary of the day Uncle Ben died…” he admitted softly.

Loki paused in their strolling.  “You should have told me,” he said and wrapped his arm around Peter’s shoulders comfortingly. He teleported the two of them to the top of the nearest building so they’d have privacy. 

Loki had learned a lot about hugging in his friendship with Peter.  He’d also heard tons of stories about Peter’s uncle.  Peter obviously highly admired the man.  Though if Loki had to hear the phrase ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ one more time he might be tempted to place a silencing spell on the child so he could never say that phrase again. 

“Midgardian tradition is to go visit his… resting place… correct?” Loki asked, trying to be supportive of his friend when he was in need.  Peter’s arms wrapped around Loki’s waist and he nodded against Loki’s shoulder.  “Do you wish to visit him?” he asked, gentling his voice.  He knew this was difficult on the teen.  He’d been so young when he lost his parents and his uncle had been like a father to Peter until he died. Peter had had his powers then, which made his uncle’s death even harder, since even with powers, Peter hadn’t been able to save him from getting shot. 

Peter hesitated. “I do, but… I’m scared,” he admitted softly.  He always said that the reason he always wore a mask was so the bad guys couldn’t see when he was afraid. “I couldn’t save him-” 

“I know, arachnid.  And I am sure he understands,” he could see how much Peter wanted to go visit his uncle.  Wanted to say something to him. No, not wanted to, needed to say something.  “W-would you like for me to accompany you?” Loki asked gently.  Peter tended to be braver with his friend with him.  Since he’d gotten shot, Loki had been a bit overprotective.  The result was that Peter was 10,000% sure that Loki would never allow any harm to befall him.  And if any did, those who had done so would die a slow and torturous death.  Peter didn’t completely approve of that, but he’d spoken with Thor about it to understand more of their culture.  He understood why Loki had reacted that way, even if he didn’t completely agree with Loki’s actions.  

“You would come with me?” Peter asked, pulling off his mask and giving Loki a hopeful expression.

Loki huffed and rolled his eyes.  “I would not offer were I unwilling,” he replied, which made Peter smile at the usual response.  Loki appreciated anything that could get Peter to smile.  “Shall we go now?” Loki asked.  Peter nodded before he lost his nerve.  Loki let his magic shimmer over the pair, dressing them in their usual clothes for strolling around the city.  Peter gave him the address for the cemetery and Loki teleported the pair there.  Peter led the way unerringly through the cemetery and Loki stayed by his side as they walked in silence.  

He stopped in front of the grave of one Benjamin Parker.  

Peter stood in front of it, looking sober for a moment before he offered the grave a bright smile.  “Uncle Ben, this is my friend Loki.  Though I think he’s kinda adopted me as a kid brother by now.  I’ve told him all about you.  I think you would’ve liked him had you gotten the chance to meet him,” at Loki’s confused look at Peter’s sudden change Peter explained with a smile, but a slightly haunted look in his eyes.  “Aunt May kept insisting that he would want me to remember him as he’d been, to honor his life, not mourn his death, and acknowledge that he’s in a better place,”

Loki nodded.  “That he is,” he agreed.  Then, to Peter’s surprise, knelt down in the grass in front of the tombstone, in his full suit.  Peter knew Loki well.  He knew how little Loki would want to ruin his fancy clothes, even if they were illusion.  Nor would he willingly kneel before anyone unless it were important.  Loki bowed his head and recited the slow and careful prayer: “Benjamin Parker, I bid you take your place in the halls of Valhalla, where the brave shall live forever. Nor shall we mourn, but rejoice, for those who have died the glorious death.”  His prayer completed, he summoned a flask of Asgardian alcohol and two shot glasses.  He poured two shots, one of which he drank, and the other he poured out on Ben’s grave.  

He stood and stepped back, brushing dirt off his pants, and allowing Peter to continue his visit properly.  Peter was looking on amazed and would be asking questions the entire way home.  “Uncle Ben, I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.  I’m Spiderman and a superhero, and I couldn’t save one of the people who meant the most to me.  You always said ‘with great power comes great responsibility’. My responsibility is to protect those I care about and I failed you,” his voice shook as he spoke.  Loki wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders while tears fell from the teen’s eyes.  

“You did not fail him.  His death was a tragic accident.  As simple as that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  You were not even there.  You honor his memory with your determination to help those weaker than yourself,” Loki reassured him.  

Peter smiled up at him.  “Thanks Loki, you’re right.” Peter turned to his uncle’s grave.  “I promise to do my best to make you proud, Uncle Ben,” he said with a bright smile and the pair turned to leave after saying goodbye to his uncle.  

“So, what was that prayer?” Peter asked Loki and the inquisition began.  It lasted the entire way back to the tower. Loki explained about Valhalla and his people’s traditions and beliefs about the afterlife. Peter was immensely curious about everything and Loki didn’t mind teaching someone so willing to learn. 

Peter gathered up his school things when they returned to the tower.  He needed to get home for dinner and he was sure Aunt May would want to visit Uncle Ben.  “Thanks for today, witch,” Peter said with a smirk as he left.

Loki glowered.  “I am not a witch! Annoying little spider-child!” he protested loudly while Peter laughed and ducked into the elevator before Loki could retaliate.

[navpike]

Dead Men Walking: Chapter 5

They don't always show it, but they've each got their own demons to battle. Peter keeps happening upon these battles.

OR a bunch of times that Peter was there for the Avengers in a moment of need, and one time they were all there for him.

Chapter Five: Thor

[on ao3]   [buy me a coffee?]

Peter is, in short, terrified to approach Thor. Thor is a god, and a very attractive one, and Peter’s tiny gay heart cannot handle it.

He’s fine when they’re all gathered together for Sam’s mandatory team dinners, or when Clint demands that Peter help him teach Thor about video games, or when he’s sitting with Bruce and Tony and Dr. Cho, talking science, and Thor will join in the conversation with things he learned while on Asgard, and through his travels of the universe.

Group settings are fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

And then, a few days after the Almost-Code-Green incident, Peter jerks awake with a strangled screech, his heart beating too fast in his chest. He looks down at his hands, expecting them to be covered in blood, looks up at the ceiling, expecting it to come crashing down on his head any second, looks wildly from side to side expecting to see huge vulture wings and Toomes’s illuminated green goggles swooping in closer, closer, closer--

Peter is very, very much awake.

He can’t remember the specifics of the dream, but there’s an overwhelming sense of urgency left over from it that he can’t shake, and he needs to get out of his room, huge as it is, to somewhere with more space, or he’s going to lose it.

He flees his room, taking off for the common area, not expecting anyone else to be there.

He is not alone as he expected he would be, when he gets to the kitchen.

Thor is sitting there, his head in his hand, looking over a sizable stack of papers, a mug long forgotten by his elbow. Brunnhilde is slumped over in the seat next to him, asleep with her head on the counter.

Peter freezes in the doorway.

Thor looks up and gives Peter a tired smile.

“Hello, Spiderling,” Thor whispers, and Peter almost cracks a smile at that. Thor almost never greets him with his actual name, coming up with various spider-themed nicknames, to rival Tony’s. He always comes back to Spiderling, though. It seems to be a favorite. “What are you doing up at this hour? You should be in your quarters, resting.”

Peter shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep,” he says softly, matching Thor’s pitch. He doesn’t want to wake Brunnhilde. “What’re you doing up?” he counters.

Thor’s smile widens just a touch.

“You’ve got me there, I suppose.” He sighs and runs a hand over his hair, and then leans back to stretch a bit and Peter thinks his heart is going to stop because wow, that little celebrity crush he’s had on Thor since after the Battle of New York has most definitely not gone anywhere.

Unfortunate.

Peter sets about boiling some water, because he needs something to do so he can remain calm and collected and not freaking out about being alone and having a conversation with a literal god.

This is fine.

Thor is still talking. “Brunnhilde and I were looking at plans for New Asgard. Setting up a civilization of refugees on a foreign planet is rather difficult, as it turns out,” he says, and the tone of his voice makes Peter pause.

Thor sounds… really kind of sad. Tired and worn out, most of all, but definitely sad.

Peter flips the switch to turn on the electric kettle and turns back to face Thor, who has gone back to staring at the papers in front of him. As Peter watches, Thor absently raises his arm, and gently cards his fingers through Brunnhilde’s hair, brushing it out of her face.

Brunnhilde lets out a rather unattractive snore. Thor smiles in response, and the look is so soft and adoring that Peter has to avert his eyes for a moment, because he feels like he’s intruding. He busies himself collecting mugs from the cabinets, to give Thor a second. He clears his throat before he turns around, for good measure, and holds up a mug in question.

“Thank you, but I don’t drink tea,” Thor says.

Peter shrugs. “I don’t either. I was gonna make some hot chocolate. Want some of that?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever had it,” Thor says, a little distractedly.

Peter smiles, and places both mugs gently down on the countertop. As he goes around retrieving the hot chocolate from the cabinet, and whipped cream and milk from the fridge, and digging up cinnamon from the spice rack, he says, “You’ll love this. It’s how my Uncle Ben used to make it for me, when I was having rough nights right when I started living with him and my Aunt May.”

The electric kettle switches off, and Peter pours it into the mugs, mixes in the powder, a splash of milk. As he’s shaking the canister of whipped cream and trying to be quiet about putting a liberal amount of it into each mug, Thor speaks, and Peter almost sprays whipped cream all over the counter.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but you’ve spoken of this Uncle before, and your lovely Aunt. I am aware you live with them. Why do you not live with your parents?”

Peter’s movements falter, but he recovers quickly, and answers softly as he sprinkles a touch of cinnamon on top of each veritable mountain of whipped cream. “My parents died when I was a little kid. In a plane accident.” He hands Thor a mug, careful not to spill on the paperwork on the counter. “My dad’s brother, my Uncle Ben, and his wife took me in. It’s just me and May now. Ben died a little while after I got these powers. That’s why I decided to become Spiderman, really. I don’t talk about my mom or dad or Ben much cause it always gets pushed into the ‘where are they, then?’ territory and that’s just depressing. I don’t want to be constantly reminding people of that, you know? So I just kind of avoid it, unless someone asks. Losing people hurts and being reminded that you can lose people hurts too.”

Thor gets a very sad look in his eyes.

Brunnhilde stirs, and Peter’s Spidey-sense scratches in his ears, and he gets the distinct feeling that she’s not asleep, anymore, but she’s trying very hard to pretend that she is, so Peter says nothing.

“I, too, have lost my mother and father, and a great many of my dear friends. Loss is never easy. Not even after centuries of living. Even when you gain new people in your life, even when they mean everything to you, the loss can weigh on your mind.”

Peter frowns at the look on Thor’s face, and nudges the Thor’s mug a little closer to him.

“You know, Uncle Ben always used to tell me this was the best way to fix a sad heart, when I was a kid. I’d have bad dreams, or I’d start missing my parents, and I’d go to him and he’d make us hot chocolate, and ask me to tell him what was making me sad. He’d sit there for as long as it took me to get it all out, and then he’d tell me funny stories or happy memories he had of my parents. He’d say,  they’re gone, but we haven’t forgotten them, and because we haven’t forgotten them, they’re still affecting how we live our lives, and that makes it like they’re still here, in a way. It always made me feel better, for a while, at least,” Peter says, and Thor finally really looks up at Peter, and takes the mug offered to him.

He smiles, when he takes a sip, licking whipped cream from his upper lip.

“This is splendid. I much prefer it to tea. Thank you, little one,” Thor says, and Peter’s not even upset about being called “little one”. When Thor says it, it sounds just fine.

“So,” Peter prompts softly, leaping up to perch on the counter across from Thor. Brunnhilde shifts again, this time tipping her head to the side. Thor doesn’t notice, but she’s definitely  awake, watching Thor discretely out of the corner of her eye. “What’s making you feel sad?”

Thor drains most of his mug in a single gulp, and worries his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I do not wish to burden you, little one.”

Peter shrugs. “Hey, it’s what friends are for. I’d say we’re friends, right?”

Thor takes a deep breath, and glances towards Brunnhilde, who snaps her eyes shut just in time, and nods once.

“I have a sister. Had a sister, Hela, that I didn’t know about. My father imprisoned her in Hel, because her power and bloodlust became too great to control. And when my father passed, she was released. While Loki and I were with Banner on Sakaar, she killed a great many of our people. In the end, We had to destroy her, and Asgard to stop her. I am saddened by the loss of my home, of course. But,” Thor lets out a long, heavy sigh. Peter thinks of different gods, of the sky balanced on backs and worlds carried on shoulders, and he thinks that not even a god should have to bear that sort of weight. “I think I am most saddened by the loss of a sister I never knew. I wonder if I had known her before, if we’d had the chance to grow up together, if maybe things would have ended differently, or if she was destined to become what she did, simply because she was burdened with the guard of the dead. I guess it’s pointless to wonder, at this point, but I can’t seem to help it.”

Peter sets his empty mug down beside him, and tugs one knee up to his chest, his other leg dangling over the edge of the counter. “It might not do anything, but I think it makes sense. I mean, you still love Loki, after everything he’s gotten himself into, cause he’s your brother and you care about him. Even though you didn’t really know Hela, I mean, she was still your sister, and you’re wishing you could’ve been there for her. But dwelling like that doesn’t do anything except make you sad. Mourn your sister, I guess, but don’t get hung up on what could’ve been. Maybe spend a little more time with Loki, and remind yourself that you’ve still got one sibling who doesn’t actually want you dead, no matter how many times he stabs you or whatever. I dunno.”

Peter wonders what it is about quiet conversations in the middle of the night that fills him with the courage to go dispensing advice like this. He thinks it’s the sleep deprivation. That’s probably it.

“Wise words, Peter,” Thor says, once again reaching out to tuck stray hairs behind Brunnhilde’s ear and out of her face. She turns, and kisses the palm of Thor’s hand, before he can draw back. Her smile is soft. Peter remembers seeing the same sort of smile on Aunt May’s face when she looked at Uncle Ben, on on his father’s face when he looked at Peter’s mother.

Brunnhilde must really love Thor, Peter thinks.

Thor snatches her hand and presses a kiss to each of her knuckles. She steals her hand back and gives him a playful punch on the shoulder.

“The child’s right,” she says, with one eyebrow raised. Her head is still resting on one folded arm on the counter. She doesn’t look like she’s moving any time soon. “You can’t keep worrying yourself with what Hela might have been, or what you might have been able to do. That sort of thinking is what drove me to Sakaar in the first place. It won’t do you any good, Your Majesty.” She says the title fondly and a little mockingly. Thor tugs on her ear in response.

Peter ducks his head for a moment, once again feeling like he’s intruding.

Thor hums softly, seemingly in agreement with what Peter and Brunnhilde have both said, and Peter looks up when he hears a mug scrape across the counter.

“Try this, love,” he says, and Brunnhilde finally lifts her head from the counter.

She sips the hot chocolate carefully, and then finishes the mug in one gulp.

“That was fantastic. What is it?” she asks, and Peter beams.

“Hot chocolate. Thought it’d cheer Thor up. He seemed a little stressed,” Peter answers.

“You’re perceptive,” Brunnhilde says. “His Royal Majesty seems to think he has to take on every responsibility for New Asgard on his own, despite Heimdall, Sif, Korg, Skurge and I offering to help him.” Brunnhilde lays her head down on her folded arms on the counter again, and looks up at Thor with an expression that’s caught somewhere between adoring and terribly, terribly sad.

Peter raises his hand like he’s in class waiting to be called on.

Thor looks to him and Brunnhilde raises an eyebrow.

“I know I’m still a kid and I have like, school and stuff to do, but I mean, if you want a hand with helping the Asgardians learn about Earth and Earth culture and stuff, I can definitely help you out with that? I can help you get together some things that’ll help them understand popular media and how a lot of our societies work and stuff like that. I’m helping Steve with Bucky doing the same sort of thing, right now, anyway.”

Thor cocks his head to the side and his forehead crinkles a little. Peter worries he’s done something to offend Thor, before he speaks up.

“Little one, that would mean a great deal. Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”

Peter shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like I can like, go spend time in New Asgard teaching people. I got school. But I can set up a Stark tablet with all the things that are probably important to know about modern Earth culture? Asgardians are all good with Earth tech, right? I don’t know how big the disconnect is, cause you’re all pretty far ahead of us in everything in a lot of respects.”

“Most think it’s the other way around. That we’re inept because we cannot understand.”

Peter scoffs at that. “Asgard’s been around for millennia. That’s dumb. If someone sat them down in front of some tech from 1912 or something, they’d be confused too. Duh.”

Brunnhilde smirks. Her eyelids droop, like she’s seconds away from falling asleep again. She yawns, and through it, she says. “I like him, Thor. I hope our child will be like him.”

Thor’s eyes go wide, and so do Peter’s, and they both snap their attention to Brunnhilde, but she’s already asleep.

Thor’s eyes are big and Peter thinks they might actually be full of tears, so Peter makes a decision. He hops down from the counter, and scoops all of the papers up from in front of Thor, tapping them into a neat pile and shoving them back into the filing folder that was hidden underneath them.

“Get her to bed. I’m sure this can wait till tomorrow,” Peter suggests.

Thor nods, and scoops Brunnhilde into his arms.

“And congrats, man,” Peter says. Thor smiles, and then he’s gone.

~*~

A week later, when Thor and Brunnhilde announce to the rest of the Avengers that they are going to have a child, Thor doesn’t look so stressed. He looks well and truly happy.

Peter thinks he deserves it.