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darker-soft-starker · 5 years

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This, too

For my actual ride or die @starkerforlife6969, who constantly wows me with their talent and beautiful heart, i luh ya xo xo

TW: mental health issues, angst, hurt/comfort, a mention of Skip Westcott

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Peter dreams.

Nightmares, most prominently - drifting dust and ash and the crush of cement against the curve of his spine. Often he dreams in flashes of mundane panic, that he’s late for work or he just missed the train. Sometimes the dreams are good, doorways into pockets of time, echoes of memories that feel as real as all his waking moments.

That night he dreams of dinner with May and Ben, except he’s not fourteen like he was when they were all together last, he’s himself now. It’s warm, bright, hazy in that way that dreams are. Tony is there too and they love him. Ben is laughing, all husky straight from the chest as May is recalling a memory of one of her misadventures in college, throwing her head back as she loses her cool and guffaws. She wipes a tear from her eye as she dwindles into soft giggles, looking over at Ben in shared reminiscence. Peter laughs along and catches Tony’s fond expression aimed just at him.

It’s real, it feels so real. Until the shrill tones of his alarm wakes him up.

Sometimes good dreams are the worst ones.

Like blinking back into reality after one of Beck’s illusions when Peter wakes up he feels every pinch of warmth extinguish to a gritty, cold ash. The memories crumble, slipping away like hands trying to keep water cupped between them. Blinking slowly against the cool morning light, reality settles around him like sediments sinking heavily all over his body.

It’s like someone scooped out everything inside of him - the call to feel anything results in a mournful echo.

He blinks once, twice.

Oh, it's one of those days, he thinks.

Huh.

In sluggish, forced movement he takes his phone from the bedside table and silences his alarm. It's sixteen minutes past seven in the morning. He’s an early riser and should have been up already. Showered. In the kitchen. Flicking through social media as breakfast is cooking or coffee cooling or kissing Tony goodbye before the office beckons him away.

Except the impetus to get out of the bed isn’t exactly there. Outside of the bed is everything too big and too loud, even if he didn’t feel so heavy, all of his insides are grey, concrete and congealed, he feels like he would shatter at the slightest touch.

He blinks once. Twice.

The other side of the bed is empty and there is a message bright on his screen.

Had to leave for the office early, won’t be home until late - love you - you at work yet?

Fingers slow, Peter types a response, swallows around the lump in his throat.

Have a headache, stayed home. Love you.

He deletes that. Tries again.

Yeah, omw. Have a good day - love u.

It’s not right to make Tony worry.

He should get up. Piss. Shave. Wash. Eat. Not lie to his partner.

Except, he knows Tony would call. Would want to come home. Would try and shift him out of that concrete casing that presses down all over him and renders him immobile - and Peter just can’t. The thing about days like these is that there is plenty of should-do’s and want-to-do’s but on days like these desire is a foreign notion, incentive doesn’t go here and it means he does nothing. Which only further proves his own uselessness.

So he won’t say anything. He would do anything to protect Tony - even from Peter himself.

Besides, he doesn't want to talk through the saliva in his mouth feels like glue, doesn't know how to, even if he wanted to work through his molasses-like thoughts. He knows Tony wouldn’t mind - but Peter can’t let him see him like this, he has enough to deal with.

Tony is a good man.

Peter isn’t.

He thinks sometimes he believes that he is - good that is. Sometimes he knows that he is - but often the conditioned therapy speak can’t convince him that his guilt isn’t valid, that all his efforts at goodness aren’t just a way to bleach away all of the bad things he is responsible for, that for all his goodness he is just inherently, irrevocably bad.

Rhyme and reason is a joke - why the nothingness takes his breath today of all days, hitting like he’s hog-tied and dumped into the bottom of the ocean. It's not a birthday or an anniversary. It's not a day of any significance, so the inertia that swallows him is baseless - but then again, isn’t it always? Maybe the residue has been accumulating while he's been making quips and jokes because - but what excuse does he have for it, does he ever have for it?

His throat sticks when he swallows dryly and he idly considers leaving the safe haven of the creased bedsheets to get some water.

Some time later, a minute, an hour, he makes himself go to the bathroom to relieve himself. He doesn't shower or wash his face. He doesn't even remember if he washed his hands. He doesn't get a drink of water.

The bed becomes an island.

Their mattress is too fancy to leave an indent where he normally sleeps but Peter imagines it’s there anyway, a divot to safely rest the contours of his body like a cradle. A safe place for his thoughts to circle, passing from one to another like a slideshow, deliberating, ruminating, around and around like the view-master he had as a kid. Laughably he tries not to focus on it, let it sweep by, but all it does is make the thoughts whirl into a dizzying kaleidoscope.

The laptop on the desk at the far wall shines all chrome and sleek lines, Peter wonders what it would take to fire it up, Netflix his listlessness away. Even his short-circuiting thoughts decide against it.

More than anything the pressure on his chest wants nothing more to ease to the sound of Tony’s voice.

He just --

Sometimes Peter tries to rationalize the entropy of the universe. By thinking every person and force is like a game of chess, energy in and out, everything has a purpose for good or bad, it gets him by. Sooner or later, surely, anything has a meaning or a lesson worth learning.

But then his core is stripped bare on days like today and Peter thinks of his parents and Ben and Natasha and everyone else who is never coming back and thinks this philosophy is wrong. There is no rhyme or reason on a greater scale for permanently blacking out an untold story. There is no greater lesson to be found in a life culled before its time.

The universe isn't playing chess. It's playing darts in the dark.

Focus.

This isn't him, this helplessness. Most days he doesn't feel like this at all, sees the shine on the horizon and the sun through the leaves – and then... some days, in private, his proverbial ability to clot fails and he bleeds out. His bad day isn't a stubbed toe, a missed train and a burnt dinner. His bad day is quicksand, stasis he can’t wake from and completely withdraws from reality - bad days are Ben’s last look of disappointment on replay and the burn of Skip Westcotts’ touch and an aching void where everything used to be.

He doesn’t open up his laptop but he does bring up Instagram on his phone and scrolls through the glossy highlight reels of everyone else's life.

He must fall asleep because the next thing he knows is a hand is brushing over his forehead, fingers tenderly carding through his curls.

When he blinks his eyes open Tony is sitting beside him. He’s fully dressed, face creased in concern.

“Thought you were at work, baby,” Tony says softly. “You feeling okay?”

Tony’s watch is before his face, reading noon. Far earlier than Peter thought to have himself dressed and behaving with some semblance of normality.

“M’fine. I didn’t expect you back so early,” Peter mumbles, cheeks going pink.

The response prompts a frown from the older man, the stroking against his scalps slowing as his partner assesses him.

Shame burns hot in Peters gut when he sees something akin to understanding flashes briefly in Tony’s eyes. Jaw clenching, Peter slams his eyes shut and exhales. Jesus, fuck this isn’t what Tony should have to put up with --

“Hey, s’okay. What’s wrong?”

Peter contemplates his age old story, what he used to tell May and his teachers when the door outside his bedroom seemed too dark a labyrinth to go near. I have a headache. I think I'm getting the flu. Allergy season is sure starting early this year. But the words get tangled in his throat and it's inevitably easier to just say nothing. He can't think of a lie quick enough to replace the excuses in his head.

There's a thumb caressing his cheek, resting at the side of his mouth.

There's a blink-and-you'll-miss spring of resentment in his stomach because he doesn't want to explain at the same time that he does and all of the thoughts bottleneck in his head - like should he act normal? How should he behave, what should he talk about, what will Tony want to talk about, is Peter going to be convincing enough, how far does the truth really stretch - how dirty will Peter feel lying to him -

Every thought stalls like a traffic jam in his head.

Overwhelmed, Peter brings a hand over his eyes and exhales frustratedly.

“I’m sorry,” he manages.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Tony whispers softly from behind him, sheets rustling as he inches closer. “You’re alright, I’ve got you.”

He doesn’t know how to answer, chest cracking open as the noise in his head reaches an unbearable crescendo.

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

Peter nods, unable to speak around the lump in his throat.

Tony crawls into bed with him, discarding his jacket, shoes and belt onto the floor. The cotton of his shirt feels nice against Peter’s face when he curls up and leans his head on Tony’s chest, but he undoes a few buttons to slip his hand inside anyway, just to feel something real and living.

This isn’t what Tony came home expecting, it shouldn’t be his job to look after Peter, shouldn’t have to tolerate this. Peter should do better.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, the ache in his chest getting worse with each passing second.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Tony dismisses, stroking Peter’s hair. “I’ve got you, baby, you’re okay. You want to talk about it?”

The arms tighten around Peter like maybe it could hold him together as he gives a sedate shake of his head.

“That’s okay.” A kiss to his hair. “I love you very much.”

“You too,” Peter murmurs, eyes closing in a mix of guilt and relief.

Another apology rises in his throat but he swallows it down, sinking into Tony’s comforting embrace, listening to this rich tones of the older man's voice telling him it will be okay, how strong he is, how it will pass soon.

Peter loves Tony enough not to argue.

It’s enough.

#starker #starker fic #tony stark x peter parker #tw: mental health issues #tw: depression #tw: skip westcott mention #angst #hurt/comfort #im sorry this is not good #but please accept my humble scraps anyhow #nothing like angst to express my love for jay

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hold-our-destiny · 4 years

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Seeking comfort

New chapter is up! read it on ao3 here. a very short chapter this time and my least favourite but the best is yet to come! Interwebs fans get ready for the next chapter.

trigger warnings: nightmares, flashbacks, mentions of depression? if you read into it. stay safe guys

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Tony could tell something was wrong with Peter as soon as he came down for breakfast.

Well, he had known there was something wrong a long time before that. Peter had gotten more jittery, more distant, his nightmares had become more frequent, Tony didn’t know what to do to help his kid. Peter wouldn’t tell him anything.

Peter flinched when the team greeted him at breakfast, before calming slightly. He looked at them timidly, almost as if he was scared, as if he didn’t realise they would be there.

He looked at Tony, seeking comfort.

“Hey, kiddo. Do you want something to eat?” Peter relaxed slightly, then nodded his head but made no move towards the table. His eyes were still wide, flicking in between the team members, as if anticipating an attack.

Something was definitely wrong.

“Do you want me to make you something to eat, Pete? Pancakes sound good?” Steve piped up from behind Tony, his voice was a lot quieter than it normally was. Peter nodded again, before moving towards the couch. Tony turned towards the rest of the Avengers,they all looked as confused as he felt.

Steve handed Tony the plate of pancakes, knowing it was best for him to give them to the kid. As Tony rounded the corner, he saw the TV first. It was playing Brooklyn 99, Peter’s comfort show; the kid would always watch it whenever he was sick, but the teenager didn’t seem to be paying much attention to it.

“Hey, kiddo, you okay?” Slowly, he put the plate down on the coffee table, a few feet away from Peter but close enough so he wouldn’t have to reach far. Peter was closed in on himself, curled up by the edge of the couch, he nodded hurriedly, without looking at Tony. The bilionaire sat on a separate seat and started to watch the TV, only checking on Peter every few minutes.

The teenager was eating the pancakes Steve made for him, almost cautiously, eyes glued to the screen, he slowly started relaxing, bit by bit. He was still curled in on himself, but not so much as before.

When he finished the pancakes, he put the plate back on the table and retreated back to his room. The team stayed silent the whole time, watching him with curious eyes.

Later on in the day, Tony was watching the TV, along with Steve, Sam, and Natasha. He was working mindlessly on the new upgrade to the Stark phone, mind lingering mostly on the teenager that still hadn’t come out of his room since breakfast.

He turned his head as he heard quiet footsteps coming down the hall, only to be greeted by Peter, looking miserable, clad in a hoodie two-sizes-too-big for him and sweatpants.

“Hey, Pete, do you wanna come sit down?” Tony offered, assuming Peter would go to the seat a few feet away from the rest of them. But slowly, Peter walked over to him and sat down next to Tony, only a foot away from him, still lost in his own world himself.

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As soon as Peter had woken up that day, he’d felt out of place.

He’d woken up after a nightmare, flashbacks plaguing his mind, more vivid than most of the recent ones. He sought out comfort in Ben's old hoodie, the piece of clothing being his only tether to reality. He found his way to the kitchen, startling when the Avengers greeted him.

He didn’t speak to them, couldn’t find the energy to, didn’t see the point of it.

So he didn't.

He flinched away when he heard them, retreating to the living room to watch Brooklyn 99. At some point, Tony brought him his food, asked if he was okay. (He lied)

When he finished the food, he went back to his room. And, stupidly, tried to sleep off his bad mood.

Obviously, a bad choice.

He woke up four hours later, after another nightmare, they seemed to be getting worse by the day. He tried to calm down by himself but it didn’t work, so he sought out the only other comfort he could find: Tony.

He could tell Tony was surprised without even looking at him.

Peter sat down, slightly away from Tony, but his body yearned for the comfort, so he slowly moved closer, eventually ending up with his head on Tony’s shoulder, the man’s arm around his shoulders. As the movie dragged on, Peter didn’t pay attention, listening more closely to his mentor’s heartbeat, as he drifted to sleep. He felt Tony’s hand hold him slightly tighter, and somehow, it comforted him.

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tag list:

@baloobird

@dreamingformuses

@romeoandjulietyouwish

@keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars

@just-the-daydreamer

@verdonafrost

@imalivebecauseirondad

@fallenstar07

@bestofirondadfics

@iron-loyalty

@asthmaticpansexual

@whatschooldoesntteachyou

(message me if you’d like to be added or removed)

#daniel writes #irondad #spiderson #peter parker #tony stark #do not tag as ship #starkers do not interact #steve rogers #mcu #marvel #skip westcott #mentions of rap #rape tw #tw rape #past rape #stay safe #depression #hurt/comfort

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sp1d3rm4n · 3 years

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!!TW S/A MENTIONS OF DEATH AND INJURY ALSO CURSING!! AND ALSO THIS IS PARTLY BASED OFF THE COMICS AND MARVELS MOVIE THATS WHAT IM GOING OFF OF anyways we just not gonna talk about how peter definitely should be traumatized? Like lets start from the beginning: when he was a little kid his parents died,then he moved in with his aunt and uncle, he went to a stark expo and almost got killed, his baby sitter steven(skip) westcott showed him porn when he was like 10 or some shit he got super powers at like 13 idk and then watched his uncle die. Hes been bullied by flash for who knows how long and only has like 1 friend. He was in a fight with the avengers, he almost watched his friends die, he almost drowned, the ferry incident *ahem* he was crushed under a building, he was on top of a plane and thats just the first movie, he was in a FUCKING WAR and then DIED he was brought back to life and then was IN ANOTHER WAR AND THEN WATCH ANOTHER FATHER FIGURE DIE jesus christ. He had so much pressure put on him for him to be the new iron man like right after he died, then he saw europe just die djssjnsh then later the illusion scene happened and he watched all his friends die and thwn got hit by a train, then he basically killed someone and then got his identity revealed. 💀💀 i probably missed some shit but what?!?! Anyways sry for the word vomit none of that makes any sense sry djsjwsjs

#peter parker #tony stark #marvel #the avengers #spider man homecoming #spider man #far from home #iron man

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tvfanatic97-2 · 4 years

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rose recommends 9/?

Hello back w a new spideychelle/petermj rec list!! Check out previous rec lists below:

part 1: slow burn

part 2: fake dating

part 3: roommate aus

part 4: soulmate aus

part 5: badass mj

part 6: pwp

part 7: domestic fluff

part 8: petermj as parents

All fic rec lists in this series are tagged #rose recs and #roserecs so you can easily browse them and find fics.

This list is mostly break up, make up fics but not exclusively hence the title. Also as always, before you guys are like “what about this fic?”, it’s either already been featured or will be featured in a future post in another category (or maybe I just haven’t read it/didn’t love it, sorry). I’m not including my own spideychelle fics in this series but if you wanna check them out you can on my ao3.

Part 9- Angst with a Happy Ending

1. love is universal by @spideyxchelle- a lot of people ask me what fics I’d say are like the pinnacle of the spideychelle fandom/required reading, well folks...

2. Don’t Worry About It by boldlygo- a great exploration of MJ’s anxiety from having a superhero boyfriend who constantly puts himself in danger

3. Don’t Leave Me, Don’t Leave Me by silently- a drabble where Peter and MJ have a serious conversation following a close call

4. carry me home on your shoulders by superultra- some classic teenage melodrama bc Peter and MJ are both dumb

5. I keep on dying, Because I love to live by @qconstellation- Peter and MJ are childhood bestfriends/neighbours who go through so much together and separately before realising what was right in front of them all along

6. i still stay cause you're the only thing i know by @softboyholland- Peter and MJ over the years slowly finding their way to each other

7. hey mr. stark by strawberrylipstick- I’m as surprised as you are that I’m recommending a fic w irondad but here we are, a fic about Peter moving on post-Endgame w MJ

8. no matter what you say, I won't love you less. by evelinafelicia- another fic where Peter and MJ have a serious conversation following a close call and a big fight

9. you got underneath my skin, and then you broke (into) my heart by magnetichearts- a 22k long oneshot chronicling Peter and MJ growing up together, growing closer, growing apart then coming together again

10. Between a Rock and a Hard Place by @ciaconnaa- deals with MJ’s home life (tw for abuse!)

11. MJ’s First Call by @machiavelien- Peter and MJ realising how much they mean to each other after dealing with something together (tw for miscarriages)

12. Your Hand In Mine by @seek-rest- IW au in which Peter is a an adult when the events of IW unfold and isn’t dusted (a bit light on the spideychelle but still worth the read)

13. the ghost in the back of your head by @befehlvonganzunten - au of IW in which Peter and MJ wind up together after getting dusted, really great portrayal of loss and trauma

14. Resilience and Other Heroes by @premiere-pro- another IW au lol, but in this one MJ, Peter and Ned all survive the snap and have to navigate a post-Thanos world together

15. Before Knowing Remembers by @amyabbotts- Peter suffers amnesia and forgets about him and MJ’s relationship after a brutal fight

16. Through This World I've Stumbled by ChloeNyme- a series about Peter and MJ dealing with and supporting each other with their individual trauma (tw for mentions of sexual assault/abuse- the series deals w Skip Westcott but it's only mentioned in characters' conversations, never shown)

17. Rarely Pure and Never Simple by @premiere-pro- MJ grappling with the messy road to recovery after she’s kidnapped when she uncovers a conspiracy within the government

That’s a lot of fics so I’m gonna end it there. Enjoy and please don’t forget to leave kudos and a comment even if it’s just an incoherent keyboard smash to let the author know you enjoyed their work, it encourages authors.

Thanks x

#spideychelle #petermj #peter x mj #peter x michelle #fanfiction #fics #fic rec #rose recs #roserecs

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fandomsumthing · 5 years

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Early Release

Written with @im-a-star-boy

Okay, so this one is triggering for a lot of reasons. If you know of the character Skip from the Spider-Man comics, then you know how much of an absolute trash person he is. If you do not, look him up before reading.

Metions of rape, doesn’t go into detail

Crying

Facing trauma

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“Peter?”

The young brunet looked up from the book he was writing in, to see May Parker looking into his room with a worried look on her face. “Yeah Aunt May?”

“Can I come in?”

Peter raised an eyebrow. It was unusual for her to ask to come in, and not just barge in and playfully joke about it later. “Yeah, what’s up?” He asked, closing his book and sitting up.

May entered the room and closed the door softly. She approached Peter slowly, as if he was a wild animal, and kept her eyes trained worriedly on him as she sat on his desk chair. She scooted towards Peter, and leaned over, making eye contact with Peter. “Peter, we just got a call from Rykers.” She said softly.

Peter watched her and nodded. “Okay, what did they want?�� He asked calmly.

“They called to give us a heads up.” She hesitated.

“A heads up about what?

May stared at him with a pained look for a few moments, before taking a deep breath. “Skip was released yesterday.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo. One Week Later .oOo.oOo.oOo.

Harry paced irritatedly, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt in one hand and staring at his phone with the other. “Harry, I’m sure Peter’s fine. You know how he gets when he ghosts everyone for-” Miles began.

“He never ghosts anyone for longer than a day or two. And he’s been avoiding me all week- and haven’t you noticed? He won't pick up calls, it goes straight to voicemail, he’s not just not answering them- he’s denying them!”

“Maybe his phones dead.” Anya offered.

“Two things wrong with that. One, his phones never dead. He always has it charging. Two, it rings, it rings a couple of times before it goes to voicemail. When your phones off or dead- it doesn’t do that. Just- he’s avoiding us. And I don’t know why.” Harry sighed, looking defeated.

“Why don’t you just… talk to him? Go over to his house and talk to him- one on one. A heart to heart, you know?” Gwen proposed.

“I don’t really have any other options, do I?” He sighed.

"You could just wait it out.” Miles offered.

Harry cringed at the idea. "I'll go check on him. I'll let you know what I find."

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Harry looked up at the house, the curtains were drawn, they were also darker than usual, almost like blackout curtains. He furrowed his brow worriedly, before approaching the house, and knocking. There was shuffling, then silence. He knocked again. There were a few uneventful moments before the door creaked open. It was Peter.

His hair was disheveled, but not in the cute morning way. In the, ‘I haven’t showered in days, nor have I brushed it' way. There were dark bags under his eyes, and he looked like he’d been crying. “H-Harry?” He murmured.

Harry stared at Peter for a moment, all words caught in his throat. Peter looked so… broken. Peter shuffled anxiously, looked hesitantly over Harry’s shoulder, before looking at Harry again. Finally, he managed to choke out a few words. “Peter? What happened? Are you okay?” He whimpered, quickly rushing towards his boyfriend.

Peter took a panicked step back, as a fearful look crossed his face. Harry froze his hands in the air. Peter made a strangled noise, before asking, “Is anyone else with you?”

Harry shook his head quietly. Peter stared at him for a moment, before pushing the door the rest of the way open, inviting Harry in. Harry stepped lightly, knowing something big must’ve happened, and followed Peter to the couch. Peter crossed his legs and hung his head looking sad. “What happened Peter?” Harry whispered softly.

Peter took a shaky breath, before replying. “A man named Steven Westcott was released from prison a few days ago.” Harry nodded encouragingly. “Um… he was released early on good behavior. They called us to tell us because he...”

Peter choked up, his face paling as tears began to drip down his face. He watched Peter’s face contort into a pained look as he shook his head softly. Harry grabbed Peter’s hand gently. Peter flinched violently away, causing him to hesitate. “S-sorry, sorry…” He murmured.

Peter shook his head. “No, no it’s alright.” He mumbled back, before hesitatingly scooting closer to Harry.

He adjusted to Peter could lean against him. He felt a pang of sadness when Peter stiffened for a moment, before letting out a slow sigh, and slowly began to lean into him. It took almost a full minute before his full weight was against Harry’s chest. Peter shuttered as Harry gently ran his fingers through his hair. There were a few moments of silence before he let out a soft sob. Harry’s heart broke at the sound, but he didn’t speak as Peter took a moment to cry. Peter shook his head against Harry’s chest, before whimpering, “I tried to tell him no… that I didn’t like it but…”

Harry froze. He thought he knew what Peter meant, but god he was hoping he was wrong. “What did he do?” Harry asked softly.

Peter let out a pained whimper. “He… he didn’t stop.” Peter couldn’t bring himself to say what Skip had done, he was already in tears by the end of that one sentence. Saying it would make everything real again. It would send him back to those days with Skip that he tried so hard to forget. He tried so hard to separate himself from what took place. He didn’t want what Skip did to him to dictate his life, and he thought he had until he learned the news. Yeah, he could beat Skip in a fight now, but Peter knew he’d be sent back if he even heard his voice.

Harry felt his heart drop as Peter began sobbing and sniffling into his chest. Peter never once mentioned any of this to him until now. Of course he had questions, but he knew better than to ask. His questions would only make Peter feel more vulnerable than he already did. He realized that he had added to his unease by trying to get in their house earlier.

“Peter.” Harry’s voice cracked slightly. “I’m so sorry.” He held him closer and Peter sobs became harder.

“Why would they let him out?!” Peter wailed sounding angry, fearful, regretful, broken. “He didn’t change! I know it! Is he just that good at deceiving?”

Harry held him close. "I don't know bug… but I promise. I won't let him anywhere near you." He promised.

He wanted to squeeze and nuzzle Peter, to promise him that nothing would ever hurt him again, but he knew that would only make the situation worse. He was scared enough as it is. Peter cried into his chest, his arms trembling violently. Peter shook his head. "Harry- I'm scared…" His voice was weak and pitiful. It made Harry's heart shatter in his chest.

"It's… it's okay to be scared. Especially after what he did. It's okay to cry…" He murmured, feeling his own tears build up in his eyes.

“He knows where I live.” Peter sniffled.

“He won’t hurt you. I’ll be right by your side for as long as you need it. That is if you want me to stay?” Harry consoled.

“DON’T GO!” Peter blurted out, now looking up at Harry. “Please! I...I don’t want to be alone again...”

“I won’t then.” Harry thought about Peter’s words. “Where’s May?” He asked.

“At court,” Peter mumbled. “She’s trying to get a restraining order against Skip for me.”

Harry nodded. The words brought him some comfort, knowing he would have a bit of protection from Skip. He ran his fingers gently through Peter's hair and kissed his forehead. "How about we head into town? Just for a little coffee date, to get your mind off of it." Harry asked gently, moving Peter's hair out of his face.

He hesitated at the idea. "It'll be okay, just a little bit of exercise. God knows how long you've been cooped up in here." Harry joked.

Peter laughed softly and looked down. "Hmm… okay. I trust you." He murmured after a few minutes of consideration.

Harry smiled and kissed Peter's head. "Alright. Do you wanna change or no?" Harry asked softly.

Peter let out a breath that sounded slightly like a laugh. “I look like a mess, don’t I?” He wiped the tears on his face. “I know this might sound weird, but could you stand outside the bathroom while I take a shower?”

“It’s not weird if it makes you feel safe.” Harry hummed as Peter stood.

Peter nodded stiffly, before standing up. He gave Harry a hesitant look and he began leading him to the bathroom. Harry let out a sad sigh. He didn’t miss how Peter gave him a skeptical look, like he was uncomfortable with the idea of Harry walking behind him. He didn’t blame him either. Peter gave Harry a sad smile, before kissing his cheek and walking into the bathroom. Harry smiled back as he heard Peter lock the door behind him. Harry stopped as he realized that Peter had forgotten both clothes and a towel. He walked quickly to his bedroom and picked out one of his sweatshirts that Peter had stolen about a week prior, and a pair of comfortable jeans and boxers. He grabbed a towel and knocked on the door lightly. “Hey, Pete, you forgot your clothes and a towel, can I come in?” He asked calmly.

Peter made a noise, before saying, “I locked the door.”

Harry let out a sigh. “I’ll hold onto them until you’re done, alright?”

Peter didn’t reply, but Harry could imagine him nodding quietly. “Okay.”

The shower started up and Harry sat with his back to the door. He got to thinking about how someone could do such a thing to Peter or anyone for that matter. Skip took advantage of Peter and was able to get out on good behavior? The idea to kill Skip had popped into his head and he knew it was a good idea, but he wouldn’t hunt him down. If, and this is a huge if, he was able to get near Peter, then the idea would turn into an action.

The shower turned off after twenty minutes and Harry heard the door click. He stood up so that Peter could open the door slightly. He hand reached out from behind the door and grabbed the clothes and towel before shutting the door. Harry smiled softly. It was still his Peter in there. He was here. He was okay. Harry took a deep breath and moved out of the way of the door. He smiled as the door opened, and waved to Peter. “Hey Pete.” He greeted.

Peter jumped, surprised by Harry’s sudden voice. He gave him a wide-eyed look, before relaxing after a moment. “Hey…” He murmured.

Harry smiled softly. His sweatshirt swamped Peter’s figure as usual, making him look even smaller than he was. The jeans were a bit more slim-fitting than Harry had intended, but Peter seemed comfortable. Harry put out his hand, a gentle smile on his face. Peter smiled softly back, and took it. Harry’s smile grew, and Harry began to lead him out of his house. “Wanna go to that new coffee place down the road?”

Peter smiled quietly and nodded. “Okay.”

Harry led Peter down the stairs slowly and towards the door. Peter hesitated before placing his hand on the door knob and turning it. Sun shimmered through the small opening and slowly filled the room as the door widened. Peter blinked a few times to let his eyes adjust.

Harry stepped out before Peter, so that he knew he was protected from the front and back. If he decided right there that he didn’t want to go then Harry would walk back in if he wanted him to follow. Harry smiled as Peter took a hesitant step outside. He played with Peter's hair for a moment, loving how fluffy it was freshly washed. Peter purred softly at the contact and Harry grinned.

He led Peter down the sidewalk talking to him happily. Peter didn't reply other than one-word answers and facial expressions, but Harry was more than happy to just be out and about with him. After not seeing him for a month, he grew really lonely.

They were walking side by side down the street. As much as he wanted to hold Peter’s hand again, he decided it was best if Peter made the move. Harry gave Peter a gentle smile. The two walked down the road, Harey leading Peter happily. After a while it walking, Peter took light hold of Harry's hand. He smiled and pulled his hand up lightly, kissing his knuckles. Peter blushed before laughing. "Har, stop." He said playfully.

Harry grinned. "Whyyyy." He whined teasingly. Peter smiled and leaned into Harry slightly while they walked. This was the first time he felt safe in a while. He’d only checked behind himself once and felt like that was enough.

“You’re like a puppy.” Peter sighed contently and his hand tightened slightly around Harry’s.

Harry laughed at the idea. "I'm the puppy? Have you seen how fluffy your hair is?! And just how cute you are in general!" He argued. "You're the puppy in this relationship."

Peter smiled. "Well then I'm your puppy." He said, blushing lightly and nudging him playfully and happily.

Harry smiled. "That's another nickname."

Peter rolled his eyes. "How many do you have for me now? Three? Four?"

“About eight.” Peter replied.

“Eight?” Harry asked, a laugh laced in his voice. “I don’t think I’ve heard some of those, have I?”

“I call you different nicknames depending on the person I’m talking to.” Peter explained as they neared the doors to the coffee shop.

It was a small place, not one of the popular coffee spots but still good. One of the reasons the couple liked it so much. They got their privacy to be a couple without having to worry about anyone snitching. Plus, the coffee wasn’t that expensive.

“Should I get us a table?” Peter asked. Harry looked at him with cautious eyes.

“Only if you feel comfortable with getting it.” Harry hesitated letting go of Peter’s hand.

“I’ll be alright.” Peter reassured. He wasn’t just reassuring Harry, but also himself. Before heading off, Peter’s gave Harry a peck on the cheek which got Harry to smile.

Peter slipped his hand out of Harry’s and went to the table closest to the wall and sat with his back facing the wall. Nothing could sneak up on him now and he got a full view of the coffee shop so if... he did show up, Peter would know. After a moment of talking, a server approached him. "Hello, what would you boys like?" She asked, a kind and curious look on her face.

"I'll take a hot chocolate." Peter replied, a hopeful look on his face.

The waitress nodded and wrote that down. "And you?" She asked, turning to Harry.

"I'll have a vanilla chai latte please."

She nodded happily and wrote them down as well. "Would you like anything to eat?"

Harry shrugged. "Pete?"

Peter looked up from a brief daze. "Huh? Yeah? Oh, uh, sure. Can I get banana bread?" He asked.

Harry chuckled as the waitress wrote it down. "I'll be back with your drinks in a minute." She walked back to the kitchen, leaving the couple to chat amongst themselves.

Harry started to explain what Peter had missed at school. “I’m pretty sure that you’d get it in a day. After all, it was mostly all reviews with things branching off.” Harry rambled.

He continued to ramble on until he saw Peter tense. He hadn’t seen anything, his eyes weren’t focused on anything, so it had to be his spider senses going off.

“Peter?” Harry asked softly. Peter shot out of his trance and looked over at Harry, seeing his concern.

“I think it was just a fly.” Peter mumbled.

He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it was either really small or approaching.

Harry looked around the cafe for a moment, before sighing and forcing a laugh. “God this place just opened and there’s already flies. Not a good sign if you ask me.”

Peter laughed at that, his spidey sense progressively getting louder. He smiled and grabbed Harry’s hand, wanting some form of comfort. Harry caught on quickly to Peter’s anxiety, and began rubbing his hand with his thumb. “I love you, Pete.” He asked, a small smile.

Peter forced a smile. “I love you too.” He murmured.

The waitress came with their drinks. “Your banana bread will be out in a second.” She said, a kind smile on her face.

Peter smiled and thanked her, taking a small sip of his hot chocolate, before pulling away and hissing softly. “Hot?” Harry asked, chuckling.

Peter nodded, but took another sip. Harry couldn’t help but laugh. The hot chocolate was in a red mug with green details. It was filled to the brim, topped with whipped cream which had marshmallows, chocolate shavings, and chocolate syrup. Peter seemed happy with the drink as he took another sip though.

Mid sip, Peter grabbed his head. He put his hot chocolate own so he wouldn’t spill it. His spider senses were going nuts. They were screaming at him to run.

“Peter?” Harry consoled, he looked like he was going to get up to help Peter. “Is something wrong?”

The door opened an a ding followed it. “It wasn’t a fly, Harry.” Peter realized and looked at the door, fear filling his eyes.

Harry grabbed Peter's hands gently. "Peter? Pete, are you okay?"

Peter looked down, squeezing his eyes shut. He had a look of fear on his face. "Harry…" he whimpered. Harry could hear that Peter was close to crying. He looked up to see a tall man standing in line, chatting with the cashier. He had pale hair, almost white. As if he felt the eyes on him, he turned to the two boys sitting at the table. Peter glanced up for a moment, before immediately turning away.

The man smirked, saying something else to the cashier, before strutting in their direction. "Hey there Einstein," He said, grinning at Peter.

Harry felt Peter began to shake and watched as he tried to close his eyes even tighter. “Wow, can’t even look at me?” The man acknowledged, his grin still plastered on his face. Harry put it together and glared at Skip.

“Excuse me, but you’re interrupting something here.” Harry had a mock kindness in his voice, it wasn’t that convincing. Skip jumped slightly at Harry’s voice, having just notice him.

“Oh you have a-“ Skip looked down at Harry’s and Peter’s intertwined hands. “Oh.” There was a slight venom in Skip’s voice now.

"Would you mind getting the fuck out?" Harry growled, scooting closer to Peter.

Skip made a face. "You're that one kid who was friends with him." He recognized, an angry look crossing his face.

He stopped as the waitress stepped over, putting Peter's banana bread in front of him. She saw his distressed look and turned to Harry. "Is something wrong?" She asked.

"Nah, everything's good here." Skip interrupted.

Harry got an angry look. "Everything is not good, can you get this man to leave us alone?" Harry hissed through his teeth. Every second Skip stood in front of him was a second closer that Harry was to punch him.

The waitress nodded. "Sir you need to leave these two immediately or I'll have to get security." She said.

She didn't quite know what was going on but she could tell it wasn't anything good. Skip scowled, before pushing himself up violently and stalking out of the building.

The waitress gave them a look, before walking away silently, as Peter practically crawled into Harry's lap. "Hey, it's okay bug, he's gone." Harry reassured, feeling Peter tremble violently.

“H-Harry… he’s still there. He’s waiting.” Peter could sense him standing outside, and he was angry. It wasn’t good when he was angry. Harry held Peter close to him.

“I’ll take care of it. I’ll have a staff member stay right here, if he comes in again, then he won’t walk again.” Harry said.

“Don’t.” Peter replied firmly, tears slipping from his eyes. “Harry, he’s angry. He’s awful when he’s mad.”

Harry felt his heart break at that. What had Skip done to him? He shook off the chilling thought and pressed a kiss against Peter's head. "Don't worry Pete, I'm a vigilante, remember?" He murmured softly. "I'll be back in just a second."

Peter didn't argue, but watched teary-eyed as Harry stepped through the door.

"Westcott." Harry snapped, an anger flaring up in his gut.

The man, as Peter predicted, looked up from leaning on the side of the building. "I've got a bone to pick with you." Harry snarled.

Skip scowled. "This is your last chance kid. You better screw off and let me-" Before he had a chance to finish, Harry launched forward and punched him in the nose.

He staggered back in alarm as blood began washing down his face. "YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" He screamed, clutching his nose.

Harry grabbed his collar. “You listen to me right now. You are not in a place of power here. You might think you are still in control of Peter, but you’re not. He could beat the absolute shit out of your sorry ass. Now, the best thing you can do is try and rebuild your life that you destroyed the moment you destroyed Peter’s innocents.” He growled. Skip took a minute and laughed right in Harry’s face.

“Little Pet could hurt mwah?” He chuckled. “He couldn’t even hold the door shut tight enough to stop me from coming in.”

Harry kneed him in the crotch and Skip groaned and pulled away from Harry. In a couple of minutes he was able to recover and he was pissed.

“You think you know Peter as well as me? Huh? Just because you got to watch him grow up?” Skip hissed, then smiled. “He grew up rather nicely, no? You want to grow old with him? Sadly you won’t be able to.”

Skip pulled out a pocket knife and longed at Harry. It was so unexpected and yet not. Harry knew that Skip might turn violent, he didn’t see him having a knife. He was luckily able to step back before the knife went down, but the second time the knife was right above him and it was coming down fast and Harry closed his eyes and prepared for the pain.

The door swung open and the pain never came. Harry’s eyes open and saw Peter grabbing Skips wrist. He still had the tear stained cheeks and fear in his eyes, but there was also anger.

“What the hell are you doing?” Peter hissed.

“Pet! I was just-“ Skip gasped as Peter’s gripped tightened.

“Don’t call me that.” Peter hissed again.

Skip growler at that and tried to throw Peter off. He stumbled, before tightening his grip. "Get out." Peter warned Skip.

Skip growled. "You can't get rid of me that easily." He snapped, before throwing a wobbly punch with his other arm.

Peter ducked under it, and twisted Skip's arm, which he was still holding. There was a sickening crack and Skip let out an alarmed cry as Peter refused to let go, possibly breaking Skip's wrist with how hard he was squeezing it. Harry could see Peter's light trembling, but it was overcome with a rush of adrenaline. "Now you listen here, Westcott." Peter hissed, with a layer of venom in his voice that Harry had never heard before. "If you ever try to touch me or my boyfriend ever again I will kill you. You hear me?" He threatened, as he released his arm.

Skip's other hand flew to his arm as Peter stepped back. Harry moved forward, his hands shaking as he touched Peter's shoulder. He jumped, startled by the sudden contact, before immediately turning to hug Harry.

“Fine. I’ll leave for now.” Skip snarled. “But I will be back.”

Harry growled and then a light bulb went off in his head. “Aren’t you supposed have a probation officer with you?” They watched as some color drained from Skip’s face.

He looked like he was about to run for a moment, before scoffing. "I- I only have to see him once a month thank you!" He shouted.

Harry scowled at that. "Well believe me, this incident wont go unreported."

Before Skip could reply, two officers approached the group. "Hey, the owners of this place called us. Apparently there was a threat here? Mind telling us what happened?" One asked, eyeing Skip's broken arm.

"These fucking maniacs attacked me!" Skip shouted immediately.

Harry gave him a dumbfounded look. "You have got to be fucking with me."

"Okay okay, enough of the language!" The female officer shouted. "Come with me, I have some questions." She said, pulling Skip aside.

Harry straightened. "I'll gladly answer any questions you have!" He felt Peter shudder against him and frowned. "I'll also speak for him."

The male officer nodded. "We'll need verbal confirmation for anything you say for him." He warned.

"I'm okay with that." Peter murmured, pulling away slightly. Harry felt a rush of sadness at the loss of contact.

The officer asked the usual question and then started going into the details of the call. “The owner said that two patrons were sitting at a table, which I presume to be you two, and a guy walked up to them and made them uncomfortable. Then one stayed in while the other left after the guy. What exactly happened?”

Harry felt Peter stiffen up at that. He immediately began running his fingers through Peter’s hair. “If you wanna go sit inside for this part you can.” Harry reassured gently.

Peter mumbled a soft, “I gotta confirm stuff…”

Harry nodded gently, before pressing a kiss to Peter’s head and pulling him into another hug. “That guy’s name, it’s Steven Westcott. A few years back he did… bad stuff to Peter. He hurt him. As in-”

“As in rape.” Peter finished. He could feel how Harry tensed under his bluntness, but he really just wanted to get this over with then go home and hide under the covers.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. He got out of prison a week ago I think, and he recognized Peter and started harassing us. I told him to go away and he did, but he was waiting outside for us and I left to go try and get him to leave. Then he just started saying stuff and I got pissed and punched him.” Harry admitted.

“But then he pulled a knife on you and tried to stab you.” Peter argued, pulling away to look Harry in the eyes.

“If Peter hadn’t stepped out then I’d be bleeding right now.” Harry said quickly to the officer then looked at Peter. “I only escalated the situation Peter, I should have just waited with you until he left.”

“I do agree that you coming out here was a slight escalation, but with Westcott’s history with him, I can see why you’d want to get out of the premises.” The officer then leaned into his walkie. “Hey Sarah, check him for a pocket knife.”

“I can see pecking out of his front pocket.” Her voice buzzed from the walkie.

The man nodded. "Alright, can we get your guys' names and numbers? We'll have to contact you later for further questioning."

The two nodded and easily passed the information. Peter pulled out his phone with shaky hands. "I should call May." He mumbled.

Harry nodded, wrapping his arms around Peter's waist. "I'm right here if you need me." He murmured.

Peter nodded silently, and dialed May's number. After a moment, she picked up. "Hey Aunt May? We uh… we've got a bit of a problem…"

“What happened? I’ve been trying to get in contact for a few minutes now. I got good news too.” May sounded happy or relieved.

“Me and Harry went out to that little coffee an-and Skip-“ Peter sniffled, his voice cracking.

“Skip? He broke the restraining order already?” May hissed.

“What?” Peter gasped.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you. Maybe my messages haven’t sent, but I sent you how the courts approved it just a few minutes ago. He was here and then left after it was approved.” She said.

Peter let out a sigh. "Then yeah he broke restraining order."

Harry noticed how Peter's voice sounded both relieved and scared at the same time. He grabbed Peter's hand gently and began running circles with his thumb on the back of Peter's hand. He looked up and smiled softly, before returning to the phone call.

"There are a few officers here, Harry got in s fist fight with him and I think I broke his arm when he tried to stab Harry." Peter sniffled.

May laughed. "Good riddance, he deserves that and much more." Peter made a displeased noise. "Pete, why don't you head home if you can. I can make us some wheatcakes."

Peter smiled. "Thank you…" He murmured, hanging up.

"So we going to your place for 'wheatcakes'?" Harry teased.

Peter elbowed him. "Hush."

"They're called pancakes, Peter! You and May are the only people I've ever met who call them 'wheatcakes'! Its dumb!" He teased further.

Peter laughed and shoved him. "Be quiet! Aunt May's wheatcakes are the best thing to grace this earth."

“I will agree that they’re the best pancakes around.” Harry agreed as he received another shove from Peter.

“I dare you to say that they’re pancakes in front of May. You’d get your ass beat.” Peter replied as Harry laughed.

“May beating me up?” Harry couldn’t even imagine it. Well, he couldn’t imagine Peter beating him up until Peter came close to doing so.

Peter raised an eyebrow. "She will."

Harry raised his hands in surrender. "Alright alright. Come on. Let's go."

#msm 2017 #marvel spiderman 2017 #parksborn #peter parker #harry osborn #skip

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badmcuposts · 5 years

Text

Lifeboat

TW: Suicide, Major character death, minor character death, kidnapping, childhood sexual assault, rape, pedophilia, child pornography, orphans, guns, alcohol mention, self-centered homophobia, intrusive thoughts

Based on the song from heathers. Peter feels like it’s finally time to stop the pain he’s been in for years, before it continues to get worse.

Peter will always remember the first time he cried into this pillow. Only 6 at the time, he celebrated the anniversary of his mommy and daddy’s death by sobbing in his bedroom, alone. He will always remember the crushing feeling that began to leak inside of him that day, thick as black tar. Mainly because it never stopped.

I float in a boat

In a raging black ocean

It wasn’t much later that he met a young boy by the name of Eugene Thompson, who insisted that everyone refer to him as “Flash”. After a particularly bad asthma attack at recess, leading to Peter having to be carried by a teacher to an awaiting ambulance, Flash began to berate Peter over anything he could find wrong with his classmate. After all, Peter was an easy target. If he tried to throw a punch, he was likely to collapse. But once the slight jeers began to fester into full-on beatings, things got messier, there were more black eyes to cover up, more scratches to hide behind sleeves, and more bloody noses to clot in the school bathroom. Each day Peter felt the black tar in his stomach rise a little higher.

Low in the water

With nowhere to go

A few weeks after Peter’s seventh birthday, his aunt and uncle began going on dates again. They got him a babysitter, a young man of 23 years by the name of Steven Westcott. Steven was a fun babysitter, and liked to be called “Skip”. Skip would play games with Peter, starting with simple rounds of uno. They were soon best friends, as far as Peter’s young mind could tell. He always said that Peter was the smartest person in the world, calling him “Einstein” as a nod to the boy’s intellect. However, soon the games became more touchy. Switching from uno to twister, to cuddling by the tv, to cuddling in Ben and May’s bed, to Peter laying naked as Skip took pictures of him, to Skip laying on top of Peter while they were both naked. After 8 months of abuse Peter finally slipped up. He accidentally mentioned the ‘games’ to his Aunt May, who called the authorities. Inside of the pedophile’s apartment were thousands of pictures of uncomfortable and nude young boys in suggestive poses. And in a special folder, Peter Parker’s innocence was stored with a paper clip and stolen lock of the boy’s hair. Skip Westcott would go to jail, but the ghosted feeling of his hands would never leave Peter’s skin. And whenever those long gone hands would touch him once again, thousands of buckets of tar added to his chest.

The tiniest lifeboat

With people I know

Peter tried to ignore it. He tried to be a big boy and suck it up. But by his tenth birthday, he began to find his failures on his own. He no longer needed Flash, it was like his mind had become his own bully. Like the way his best friend made him feel butterflies when they would talk on the phone at night, which meant he must be some freak of nature. Because Peter Parker was looking at Ned Leeds the way he was supposed to look at a girl. And with each moment that passed with his newfound crush’s obliviousness, another drop of tar joined the raging sea in his stomach.

Cold, clammy, and crowded

The people smell desperate

When Peter was 12, he saw a young girl be grabbed and thrown into the back of a van. As it quickly zoomed off, he stood there. Still. Frozen in fear. His fight or flight failed as he stared off at the speeding vehicle. When he finally managed to gather the courage to move and call his uncle for help, it had been over seven minutes. They called the police, and hailed a taxi to the station. The men in dark blue uniforms had Peter tell his story thousands of times, making sure they had every detail just right. Of course they didn’t believe him the first couple times, who would? He was just a kid. A stupid, ridiculous, puny little kid. They said they believed him. They were lying. After all, why else would they have pulled up security cameras “just to be sure”?The girl was identified, and her parents were called with the bad news. The young couple had been sobbing, begging for someone to find their baby, but the car’s untraceable plate and clever route led to only dead ends in the search. 8 year old Pamela Norris was never seen again, but Peter would always imagine the worst. Perhaps she, too, began feeling hands on her stomach and neck. But in this version of the story, Peter wasn’t the victim again, he was the witness. He should have manned up and done something, anything. And each time he would imagine the faces of her parents, the way they had cried into each other’s arms after they were brought into the police station, and the tar would fill just that much higher.

We’ll sink any minute

So someone must go

He would never admit it, but the sudden urge to swallow a billion containers of ibuprofen wasn’t overwhelmingly surprising. He’d heard of this feeling, met people online who felt the pull and tug of their own brain, but couldn’t figure out how to control it. Something about the relief, the way his stomach stopped aching and his head stopped spinning, made Peter crave the chalky taste of pills. For once, he could control all of the pain in his life, and take the easier parts away. All he had to do was take one more pill, one more pill, maybe five, maybe ten, maybe he’ll just down the whole bottle. If only he could get away with it, he’d do anything for that sweet relief.

The tiniest lifeboat

Full of people I know

When high school started, Peter thought the worst of his problems were over. He was fourteen now, just barely. Being that in his short experience with life he had already hit rock bottom, there was nowhere to go but up. Well, except for the fact that he had brought a shovel. When Ben took him on that midnight run to the nearest bodega, nobody had expected for a petty thief with a gun to shoot a bullet through an innocent bystander’s head. But then there was Peter, holding his uncle as the older man bled out. And the tar rose ten inches, one for each tear Peter shed.

Everyone’s pushing

Everyone’s fighting

Storms are approaching

There’s nowhere to hide

A mere week later, Peter had been convinced to go on a school field trip for a sense of normality to return. Instead, Parker Luck decided to steal all of Peter’s normality in the form of a radioactive spider bite. Peter would spend days throwing up in his bedroom, hoping for the sweet release of death. When he was finally well again, he would be stuck with an overwhelming sense of anxiety. He could hear everything, see everything, know everything. And if a few kids whispered about him only a few classrooms over, Peter would have no choice but to listen. It was as if Flash’s words had become inescapable, now spread in a similar fashion by different students. Even kids Peter had thought were nice were soon revealed to him as snakes. He wished that spider had just killed him, because the tar was beginning to rise up his throat.

If I say the wrong thing

Or I wear the wrong outfit

They’ll throw me right over the side

Peter was angry, so angry. He didn’t do anything right, ever. He had been given an opportunity by Tony Stark to work under his supervision, and he messed up. If he had just been a little bit better he could have proved himself. To Tony, to May, to the world. But life didn’t work like that, huh? Because some evil force let him be stupid enough to be hit across the airport like a rag doll. Someone out there was playing him with a voodoo doll and he didn’t like it. Because this wasn’t a game anymore, this was his one chance to be a real hero and he failed. He had owed himself this. For the sake of every child in New York City, he should have been better. He had been benched because he wasn’t good enough, he would never be good enough. He was probably only allowed to keep the suit so Mr. Stark could laugh at him from the cameras, like everyone else did. As fate played her twisted games, Peter felt another flow of tar spill up his esophagus.

I’m hugging my knees

And the Captain is pointing

Well, who made her captain?

So now, as Peter holds onto his pillow, he reminds himself why he is here. Just why his awful horrible terrible handwriting has added a thousand apologies to the once pristine surface of his favorite pillow, now stained in black ink. An explanation for each person he owes one to. And as he drops the pillow behind him, to be found after all is done, he prepares himself at the edge of the building. Finally, Peter lets the last drop of tar begin to overflow into his mouth, and lets himself fall.

Still, the weakest must go

The body of 16 year old Peter Parker was found on the sidewalk by a group of men walking home from a bar. The designated driver of the group called the police, and the news spread like wildfire. Midtown Tech hosted an assembly to honor the life of a straight A student, People from all over queens who knew Peter in his life cried, and Tony Stark personally appeared at what seemed to be the funeral of a random boy whom he had never met. And within a week of the burial, May Parker was found dead in her bathroom, having overdosed to stop the pain of losing the boy she had raised as her own son.

The tiniest lifeboat

Full of people I know

#skip westcott #tom holland #peter parker #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker fic #angst fic #peterned #my fics

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