#i think Peter may be kind of right a little bit maybe

[webslingingslasher]

Care less

for the frat!peter girlies.

Peter blames his aunt. 

May went and raised him to look forward to the middle of february. She would make little boxes and handwritten notes tied up with a fun-sized candy bar. May told him it was a day to celebrate love in its entirety. For a friend, for a teacher, for just the sake of love existing everywhere you went. 

Except, not everyone likes valentine's day. Some even hate it. Some would loathe the day so much that Peter feels like an idiot for caring. Dinner reservations that were going to be ignored, flowers that would go wilted and chocolates that were never going to get eaten. 

Peter has a handful of nothing and the one time he really wanted to outperform himself, it was brushed off and it was his aunt’s fault for getting his hopes up about valentine’s day. He had been so thoughtful too, planning weeks ahead to book a dinner slot and a fun date. Not to mention the mini fortune he spent on roses, not that you were a giant fan of roses but every girl deserves a bouquet on valentine’s, even if they triple in price. Peter even bought a second bunch of your favorite kind, just to prove he cared. 

It meant nothing. His efforts meant nothing and maybe he shouldn’t have assumed, but he never thought that you’d hate the holiday. It was a day entirely built around feelings, around love- and you just rolled your eyes at him. 

“I fucking hate valentine’s day.” You said it like it was nothing, taking two bites of a banana and handing it over to Peter. He asked if you were excited, maybe even hinting at that you should be excited. Peter Parker was about to romance the hell out of you. But not anymore. 

“Explain that one for me?” A toss, the peel falls into the trash can. You shrug as if you’ve never thought about it before, but it’s something you’ve held in your chest for as long as you can remember. 

“It was a holiday created by girls who didn’t feel loved enough by their boyfriends, or something. I think the practice is stupid, you should treat me good and do nice things for me everyday, not just once a year. And everything is crowded! Everyone has the same lame idea about dinner and a movie and flowers and… it’s just not something I buy into.” 

Peter feels every bit of him curl up and die inside. Valentines is his third favorite holiday, he adores the pinks, reds, and purples. He loves seeing couples of every stage, the beginning stages or lifelong partners. They all love the same; with everything in them. 

“Well, actually, I do have a confession. Chocolate covered strawberries. They’re outrageously expensive, but I buy them every year. If you’re wondering, I was hoping we could boycott the baby holiday and eat some strawberries or something.” 

A small lift in his heart, it’s something. You’d be happy with one thing and he could deliver that, but first he has to try and sway you, right? Peter needs to preach what valentine’s is about, he needs you to understand how lovely it is. 

“I’m surprised you hate it so much. I figured you’d love it, since it’s pink and feelings, and stuff.” You wink at him, you think it’s a joke and Peter’s in the same boat as you. “I know, right? It always seemed so gimmicky to me, I think.” 

“That doesn’t mean it’s bad.” You pretend gag, Peter feels his heart sink into the hollow of his chest. “You’re right, it’s cringy and that makes it so much worse.” Peter doesn’t agree, not even in the slightest. Nothing about it is cringy, there’s nothing embarrassing about showing you love someone. 

“Right. It’s cringy and a gimmick and everyone who participates is stupid.” Maybe he’s a little cynical, it hits harder when you nod with exaggeration. “So glad you agree, petey!” He doesn’t. Peter couldn’t be further away from your opinion but he’s really not in the mood to be shut down or judged, so, he just changes the subject and tries to ignore everything crumbling apart in the back of his mind. 

“Isn’t this cute?” 

You squint your eyes when you read the card, a tiny smile shows. “It’s cute. Not worth…” You snatch the glorified cardstock and flip it, your eyes widen, you pretend to choke on the dollar amount. “Ten dollars, holy shit. For some glitter? Fuck that.” 

You want it out of your hold, scared that if even a speckle spread you’d be forced to buy it. “What happened to the good old days of making your own card? My mom used to eat that up.” 

Peter delicately sets the card down, he tries to see it how you do, but he can’t. Sure, it’s wildly marked up, but wouldn’t your partner be worth the price? Peter would buy the moon for you if he could, a ten dollar Hallmark card won’t be his holdup. 

But, maybe you’d like a handmade one more. He can do that. 

Peter’s trying to be mindful of your opinion while also planting the seed that valentine’s isn’t all that bad into your brain. It’s days away and all he can hear in the back of his mind is ‘I fucking hate valentine’s day.’ 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Peter- do you fucking see this?” 

A romantic gesture? A public display of love and admiration? Dozens of carefully inflated heart shaped balloons? A girl crying into the arms of her friend while her partner showers her with flowers. Is it the love? Is that what you’re pointing out? 

“Yeah, it’s-” 

“Disgusting.” 

“-cute.” Peter frowns, is that what you really thought of valentines? Nothing was swaying your mind, Peter thinks that you’re more solidified in your mindset than before. 

“I’m sorry, trouble, but I’m finding it hard believing you hate valentine’s day.” It’s like he just called you a slur, you pull your hand from his and stuff it into your jacket pocket. 

“I don’t hate it, I loathe it. What do you see watching that? Personally, I’m seeing gravel covered flowers and wasted space that turns into deflated balloons. Fuck that.” Peter shakes his head, you’re seeing it wrong. “It’s about the gesture.” 

“It’s about how you love someone so much, there aren't enough things in the world to buy to show it, and there are never the right set of words to say it quite right. I’ll buy all the flowers in the world for you, and I’ll use all the air in my lungs for these balloons but it’ll never match the love I have for you.” 

Peter clears his throat. “That's what I see, anyways. I think valentine’s day is an excuse to be a little cringy and basic because we all want that sometimes.” He might’ve finally broken through, but you crack a grin and bump your shoulder into his. 

“Ah, yes, because I’m so unfulfilled that a man has never gotten me a teddy bear for valentine’s day.” Would you want one? He could get you one. Or could that be a reason you might detest the holiday, not that he’d ever take your opinion for resentment or bitterness. 

“Have you ever had a valentine?” A small stumble, your hand is tied into his again. “Besides elementary, nah. And honestly, I should be happy so I don’t have to deal with all that stuff.” 

‘I should be happy so I don’t have to deal with all that stuff.’ But, now you do, don’t you? 

“Trouble, you do realize you’re my valentine this year, right? And I’m yours?” You feel your breath catch, no, you hadn’t realized. It’s always just been another day for you and you assume the same for Peter, it’s not like there was much to celebrate. 

“It’s also just a day that ends in Y.” Is that really the answer you have? It’s just another day to you, even if you finally have someone to claim? You might not care about the holiday, but Peter does and he’s going to get his valentine’s day, no matter what. 

And you’re going to enjoy a handmade card. 

And a teddy bear. 

Peter’s finger-combing his hair after a shower, he’s had the reservation for weeks, but he also wasn’t aware of your detestment towards red hearts and arrows. 

“Wanna grab some dinner wednesday?” If he didn’t say it by name he’s hoping you won’t scream bloody mary on him. “Sure.” A smile washes over Peter’s face, it drops in a second. “Wait, isn’t that valentine’s day? Ha, yeah, no thank you. You, me, and the entire city? Fuck that.” 

‘Fuck that, fuck that, fuck that.’ Weeks boiled into nothing. “But, if you wanna cuddle and watch a movie I’m down.” It’s something. He’d get to give you flowers and a card and a teddy bear and he can’t forget the strawberries. You told him you loved them. 

“Good with me, trouble.” 

Peter tried to sway your mind, he tried to make you enjoy the love and glitter and colors. But you hated it all. So all he has to do is ditch the flowers and the dinner and just… do nothing. 

Peter’s first real valentine and all he has to do is… nothing. 

Three rose bouquets tossed onto his closet floor, it was haphazardly done. Petals scattered around the cellophane, some even reached to his shoes. They were thrown in without care, they were hidden. 

But they were beautiful. A few front buds have taken a beating, but the others were fully blossomed and lively. You’ve never seen roses in such a vivid red, their petals almost like velvet under your fingertips, their smell unlike any other. 

The thorns have been expertly shredded, nothing but smooth, soft stems in their wake. It doesn’t matter if Peter didn’t mean to have you see them, they were too gorgeous to leave locked away in a dark room. They deserved the affection water and sunlight would give them. 

You clutched all three in your arms, the weight welcomed. You laid them out nicely across his bed, the third bouquet dropped a small card and you picked it right back up. 

‘Trouble- 

This day was made for you. 

Charlie’s at 8. 

Yours, 

Peter’

You bit back a smile. Charlie’s? It’s nice, too nice. And expensive. Peter got you reservations at Charlie’s? Holding the card to your chest you nearly squeal, you have no idea how he kept the secret from you. Or the roses. 

When you hear his bedroom door open you spin, waiting for him to be in the doorway so you can place a thousand kisses. Instead it’s Ethan and he looks surprised. “You’re here?” He points to the flowers, “Peter gave you those?” 

“I found them in his closet, he just tossed them in here! And he must’ve forgotten to tell me about Charlie’s.” Ethan doesn’t smile with you, he’s not sharing any joy. For a second you start to wonder if you were the person who was supposed to receive the gifts. 

“He didn’t forget.” You scrunch your face at him, “I think he did and I need to start getting ready now. Ethan, do you know how nice Charlie’s is? It’s fucking fancy.” You’re not prepared, you don’t have anything that screams Charlie’s worthy in Peter’s closet. 

“No, you’re not hearing me. There is no Charlie’s and there weren't supposed to be roses. I was supposed to get them before you got here, but, here we are. No roses and no Charlie’s.” You smack at his arms, pulling at his fingers to drop your flowers. 

“They’re mine!” Ethan’s on a mission to steal them, and he’s not being gentle. 

“No, you didn’t want them.” 

You watch him for a second, how could he say that, of course you want them. Thirty six reminders of Peter, how could you ever say no? You fight for what's yours, Ethan allows you to keep one bouquet. 

“I do want them!” 

Ethan’s not being nice to you tonight, he’s gruff with his response. “No. You didn’t.’ 

“You keep saying didn’t! I never said I didn’t want…” 

Except you did. Just like you said you didn’t want to get dinner with Peter. You feel terrible, you feel like crying. He’d had this planned for weeks and the whole time all you did was poke fun and degrade the holiday not knowing you were crushing him behind the scenes. 

You wanted the flowers, but you didn’t deserve them. You hand over the last bouquet silently. 

“I think it’s best if you pretend you didn’t see these.” You can’t imagine the ache Peter must have in his chest, he planned something out just for you to stomp all over it. It’s not about the value, it was the gesture. He can’t tell you how he feels, but taking you out to one of the nicest places in the city, where you know it has a month minimum reservation list makes you understand him just a little bit better. 

“This is so bad, Ethan. This is so,” you suck in air, “so bad.” 

“It’s not terrible,” a crinkle when he shifts weight. “But it’s not great.” You wince, if you could, you’d go back in time and shove your foot in your mouth, or tell yourself to shut the fuck up. 

“Well, I mean, what the fuck?! It’s fucking Peter! How was I supposed to know he was pro valentines day?”

“How was he supposed to know you were anti valentines day?” 

You sink to the bed and hold your head in your hands, “I just want Peter right now.” You want to hug him and kiss him and tell him how sorry you were. Ethan hesitates for a second, before stepping closer to lay the flowers across your lap. 

“You found them. They’re yours.” You protect them from being taken, but still have self-pity. “I don’t deserve them.” Ethan scoffs, “of course you do. Everyone deserves pretty flowers.” 

You pout at yourself in the mirror and fix any smudges. Brushing out any stray wrinkles your newest dress might’ve made on the way over. Ethan had very kindly instructed a pledge to pick you up an outfit so you could change before Peter got back. 

With minutes to spare, he’s back and taking a deep breath at your appearance. “Wow.” A surprised hum when you kiss him, you wipe red from his bottom lip while you apologize. “I’m so sorry, petey.” 

“For what?” A look around the room, red roses give him the reason. “Oh. Hey, it’s no big deal and I-” A frown when you silence him by holding a finger to his lips. 

“I’m sorry. I found those flowers and all I could think about was you and how much it meant to me that you got those for me, then I saw the card and I couldn’t believe you got us reservations and I just felt… special. I’ve never had a valentine, but I get it now. It’s just a day you get to dote on me extra hard.” 

Another surprise kiss, “and if you didn’t already cancel I think we can get to Charlie’s on time. But if you did, that’s okay. Because I think those are the most lovely flowers I have ever gotten, and I might have seen a little teddy bear in there but I didn’t wanna get too presumptuous.” 

This time, Peter kissed you. “There’s also a homemade card.” 

“You didn’t!” You fall in closer to his chest, his hands can have free reign tonight, you wore the dress just for him. 

“I did. I even wrote a little poem.” 

A chaste kiss, “just when I think you can’t get better.” 

“There’s also glow in the dark mini golf planned for after.” A peck, “so thoughtful and handsome.”

A whisper, he’s got blown pupils and hoping he’d get another kiss. “And your strawberries are in the fridge.” 

Your hearts about to explode, “fuck, I love-” you stop yourself, but you heard it and so did Peter. He brushes it off, “love?” Fuck it, you’ll both keep circling around it. 

“Yeah, I love love.” 

A hungry kiss, a squeeze to the back of your thighs. “Yeah, I love love, too.” 

[im-sleepdeprived]

Seasonal • Pt. 3

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: inspired by the taylor swift song ‘peter’ where you and peter discover just how hard it is to hold on to something from your past, no mater how much you love each other

a/n: SHITS STARTING TO GET REALLLL (you’ll see) next part is gonna go soooooo hard omg, i already have the beginning of it written (pls don’t hate me after this btw☹️)

warnings: angst, lying, things have to get worse before they can get better, alcohol n stuff

masterlist, read part 1, part 2

Summer break rolled around faster than you could blink and before you knew it, your first year at college was over. Though it was a bit of a long adjustment period, and you were certainly going through some things in your life, it was amazing. You couldn’t wait to come back in the fall as a sophomore. This time, your place on the paper was secure, you’d probably get a good topic for the first edition when you get back (or better than last year's at least), and you actually had friends now. 

You and Alyssa had agreed to rent out an apartment for the next school year and you were excited to be living with one of your closest friends.  You’d picked out the place together, it was near campus, small, cheap, and perfect for just the two of you. You’d be moving in a week before school started back up.

You were going to be spending the summer back home with your parents, a lot of your friends from Columbia were staying in the city so you’d be able to hang out all through break. You’d checked and (subtly) made sure with Ned that Peter wasn’t planning on coming home during break. 

On a phone call a few days after your last day, you and Ned were congratulating each other on getting through the year and he had mentioned something about Peter receiving some award from some science club. You asked him if he was going to be seeing him over the break to which he’d replied with ‘Peter’s stuck down in North Carolina but I was thinking about catching a flight and spending a few weeks with him.’ 

You hadn’t talked to Peter lately, since last winter actually. You had stopped reaching out first, deciding that if he wanted to talk to you, he would. Apparently, he didn’t want to. 

You hadn’t received any texts from him since that night you’d caught him walking the streets with May after he’d told you he couldn’t make it back to New York. It was obvious he’d lied but…you just weren’t sure why. 

After all, he’d been the one to reach out that time. He’d been the one to initiate everything, so why would he lie about it? You didn’t know but you were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Because…this was Peter. He literally saved lives in his spare time. It was hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that he would go out of his way just to hurt you. 

After wishing Ned a great break you’d called your Mom and confirmed your summer plans with them. She was more than happy and told you you could just pop in unannounced and she wouldn’t mind one bit. 

Now you were looking at all your boxes shoved in your childhood room. You’d moved all of your things out of your dorm but you and Alyssa weren’t moving into your apartment until the end of summer so until then, you were stuck here. In this room that felt a little too nostalgic for your liking, feeling like you’d lived a thousand lifetimes since last year. 

Something sparkled in your peripheral vision, making you turn your head and— oh. The gift you’d bought for Peter sat perfectly wrapped, much to your dismay, in one of your boxes. The minimal light that filtered through your window had managed to hit it just right, where it was stuck between a few other of your belongings and you wondered what kind of sick sign that was. 

Sighing, you made your way over to the box, fished it out, and shoved it into the back of your closet. The little tag where you’d written his name with a small heart beside it stuck out and you pushed it right back in.

Maybe you should just get rid of it. No, you should just get rid of it. It wasn’t as if you were still planning on giving it to him or seeing him at all. And yet…you held on. 

“May’s coming over for dinner! Is that…okay?”

Something you were hoping to work on this break was spending time with your old friends. You remembered thinking last year that you’d fight to keep your friendships intact and you hadn’t done the best job with that lately. 

May was one of those friends. And since you didn’t have Peter pushing the two of you together like he once did, and you didn’t have the advantage of living across the hall from each other, it’d been a while. 

You wished you could say it was just the way things were. That life had gotten in the way and it wasn’t on purpose but…it kinda was. 

You weren’t exactly avoiding her but you also weren’t going out of your way to see her again because you knew it would’ve been easy to just pop in on a random afternoon and say hi. Or have dinner together with your parents. 

After the breakup, losing Peter hurt, but you’d expected that. What you hadn’t expected was losing May. It was an easy thing to overlook but it hit you like a ton of bricks. The two of you had become really close during your time with Peter, hell she was half the reason you were so excited to see them during winter break, and you were sure your relationship extended beyond him but…you were scared. You were scared of being wrong. 

“Of course it’s okay,” you said to your Mom, who stood nervously at your door. You tried to keep your voice light, careful not to let it betray you and indicate the immediate nervousness you felt at her words.  

“Are you sure sweetie? I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Mom,” you rolled your eyes, “it’s May. We’ve known her for forever, your best friends. I’m fine. I actually…I really miss her.”

She smiled at you, “She misses you too honey, she’ll be so glad to see you.” You shot her a smile and she returned it with a pair of thumbs up before scurrying off. 

You tried not to stress yourself out too much, because it was exactly as you’d told your mom, this was May. She’d known you long before you and Peter were a thing, and you hoped now that you weren’t a thing things could still be okay between the two of you. 

It wasn’t long before you heard a knock on your door. “Sweetie, could you get that? Your Dad’s out and I’ve got my hands full,” your Mom yelled from the kitchen. 

Your heart fell a little and you mentally scolded yourself for feeling that way. You made your way to the door and opened it with sweaty palms. May stood before you, holding a bottle of wine, and sporting one of those beautiful, mood-changing smiles of hers.

“Y/N!” She barely got out before she was pulling you into one of those warm hugs you’d missed so much. No one could give a hug quite like May Parker. 

You felt relief flush through your system, and suddenly, all your worrying from before seemed so silly. Of course she wouldn’t hate you. 

You held her tighter, “Hi May.”

“Oh my goodness,” she pulled away and smiled at you, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” 

“I know right? It’s just been a lot, with college and…stuff.” She gave you a bittersweet smile. “I get it.” You both knew what she meant and her voice was so genuine you could’ve burst into tears right then.

“Here let me take this,” you grabbed the bottle of wine from her, “come in, take a seat, I’ll pour you a cup.”

You ran into the kitchen, “May’s here,” you informed your mom as you grabbed a wine glass and moved to open the bottle.

“Oh great, did she bring that,” she pointed towards the bottle in your hands. When you nodded she grabbed it from you along with the cup, “Don’t worry about it sweetie, I’ll open this, I need you to take those though.”

She nodded towards a tray of cheese and crackers which you grabbed and made your way back to the living room. Your mom followed with the wine, which she set on the table so she could pull May into a big hug. “I know you live right across the hall but I feel like I barely even see you!”

After they exchanged pleasantries, they started chatting as they ate the appetizers and drank their wine. A few questions were thrown at you, about school, summer plans, and other things. You answered as best you could, but there was something still plaguing your mind. 

“I’ll go get dinner on the table, Y/N will keep you company.” Your mom said as she stood up and made her way back to the kitchen.

You had barely registered what she'd said, too busy looking around the living room and recalling the last time May was here. Or at least, here at the same time as you. It was your high school graduation, you and Peter had been shoved into a corner while she and your parents fawned over the both of you. It was hard to believe that was the same day everything changed.

As if reading your mind, she started talking, “I know things are different now.” She got up from her chair, sat beside you on the sofa, and grabbed your hand, “But they don’t have to be. Not for us.”

You squeezed her hand and smiled at her, “Good because I don’t want things to be different between us.”

“Me neither,” she grinned and pulled you into another hug, which you gladly accepted. 

“Y’know,” you mumbled into her hair, “I was kinda scared you hated me now.”

She laughed as if you’d just told the world’s funniest joke. Pulling away, she smirked at you and said, “For someone smart enough to get into Columbia, you're kinda stupid.”

You laughed loudly, “Okay, fair.”

Suddenly, your mom called out, stating that dinner was all set up and ready. “Come on,” May stood up and held her hand out for you, “we can talk more about this later, I’m starving.”

Grinning, you accepted her hand and stood up, “Good, because we made your favorite.”

She gasped, hands flying to her mouth, “The tacos?! With the sauce?”

Laughing, you nodded, “Yup, just for you.”

“Oh my god,” she squeezed your arm, “If I did hate you, which I absolutely don’t, this would be your redemption moment!”

“Come on,” you dragged her to the table. Dinner went well, it was amazing to spend time with May again and your heart ached when you realized how long you’d spent away from her. You’d have to fix that, maybe she’d be open to going out for brunch together on weekends. 

Some time into the conversation, Peter was brought up. May had said something or other about one of his classes and your mom asked how he was doing down at Duke. As soon as the question had left her mouth, both pairs of eyes were bearing down on you.

You smiled softly and rolled your eyes, “You guys, don’t make it weird, because it isn’t.”

They didn’t say anything which made you hold up your hands, “Do you want me to leave? Cause I’m fine with talking about him, but if you aren’t-”

“No, of course not!” May rushed out.

“We just don’t want to make it weird!” Your mom tried.

“But it isn’t! Weird, like you said. It isn’t weird.” May stumbled, and it made your heart clench when you realized how similar it was to Peter when he was doing that nervous rambling thing of his you used to love so much. Maybe it was weird. But you didn’t want it to be. 

“It isn’t,” you smiled again. If you wanted a relationship with May, of course, there’d be talk about Peter. The sooner you get over it, the better. 

“Okay…good.” Everyone was quiet for a moment, so you decided to speak up for both of them. “So May, how was Peter’s first year at Duke?”

“Good, good.” She nodded. “He started his break around the same time you did, but he’s in some science program? I’m not sure, he’s told me all about it but you know that boy, he talks like a scientist already, I barely understand anything. Sometimes it’s like a whole other language.” She and your mom laughed and you let out a small chuckle as well. “But anyway,” she continued, “he’s staying there until next semester starts. They do special research and stuff over the summer,” she waved her hand dismissively, “Or something like that, but you get the idea. And he loves it.” She smiled proudly. 

You were happy for him, you really were. Sometimes it was the only thing that gave you peace about him being so far away, the fact that you knew Duke was perfect for him. It had everything he could ever want, the perfect environment for him to thrive in, and from what you’d heard from Ned (and now May) that was exactly what he was doing.

But no matter how much you knew you should be proud and happy for him, and only proud and happy, you couldn’t help the twinge of bitterness that wormed its way around your ribs and squeezed tightly every time you heard just how great he was doing at his new place. So great, that he’d left for there early. So great, that he wasn’t even coming home for summer break now. 

It wasn’t fair, not in the slightest bit, but no matter how much you tried to brush it off because you knew how ridiculous you would sound to anyone else, it was there every time he was brought up in a conversation.

That was another thing. everyone seemed to know everything about him at all times and it felt like a slap to the face every time someone brought up something that, if it were to have happened last year, you would’ve been the first to know.

You’d lied before, things were weird. They were weird and you hated it so much you were willing to ignore it so you didn’t have to acknowledge it. You were hoping the weirdness would just grow a pair of legs and walk away because you weren’t quite sure how to face it. Your lives were so intertwined that no matter how much you ignored it, ignored him, it was bound to be brought up again and you’d be stuck with that same gross, sticky, squeezing, feeling. 

Your mother and May had switched topics, apparently, they hadn’t noticed you drifting off into your head and you were glad for it. Soon, dinner was over and you and May were doing the dishes and talking about your current TV shows, while your mom cleaned around and got dessert ready. 

“I’ve been on a Modern Family kick lately,” she told you as you rinsed a plate and handed it to her to dry.

“Classic,” you stated, washing another pate, “the Thanksgiving episode is my favorite, you know, with the suitcase turkey and the backpack turkey.”

“Oh my god,” she laughed, “I love that one.”

“Actually, I really miss New Girl, I’ve been wanting to rewatch that one.”

“Remember when we used to quote Schmidt all the time?” She laughed and leaned against the countertop. “You and Peter would run around yelling ‘Youths!’?”

“Oh yeah,” you grinned, “and when I used to say ‘Are you the criminals? From the statistics?’ Every time he talked about catching someone on patrol.”

“Yes! I know he’d act annoyed, but he definitely found it hilarious.”

“Oh for sure,” you nodded. 

May let out a sigh and turned her body completely towards you. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s a total dumbass.”

You shook your head as you said in a gentle voice, “Weren’t we just saying over dinner how smart that boy is?”

“That’s not what I meant,” she looked at you knowingly. “Peter is smart, but sometimes I wonder if that kid has a brain at all.” You huffed out a laugh but she grabbed both your soapy hands before she continued, “I mean it Y/N, I’ve never seen him care about anyone the way he cared for you. And he’s an idiot if he thinks a couple hundred miles are going to change things between you both.”

You refrained from saying he was the one who changed things while he was still across the hall from you. You knew she was only trying to help but you really thought this was making you feel worse about it. “It’s okay,” you said in as calm a voice as you could muster, “It was what he wanted, and from what I’ve heard he’s doing amazing over there, I’m happy for him.”

She looked as if she wanted to protest your little facade and you really hoped she wouldn’t push. You didn’t think you could get through this without tears. Suddenly, as soon as she opened her mouth, your phone started ringing. You looked over the counter to see it was Alyssa calling.

“I’m really sorry May but this is my friend I’m moving in with next semester, she probably wants to finalize some things,” you grabbed your phone and gave her an apologetic smile.

“No worries honey, go ahead.” She smiled at you and you thanked her before running to your room to answer.

Turned out Lyss just wanted to check in on you, claiming she missed you and you told her how unintentionally perfect her timing was. She laughed and said she was always happy to help. The two of you talked for a few minutes before she had to go again and when you stepped out to see May, she was getting ready to leave.

“So soon,” you asked with a frown. 

May nodded and gave you a small smile. “Yeah, I‘ve got to be up early, we have an order coming in at the community center and I’m supposed to sign off on it.”

“Oh, well,” you cleared your throat, “it was really nice to see you May, like, really nice.”

“C’mere honey,” she held out her arms and pulled you into a hug.

“Thank you,” you murmured, though you weren’t quite sure what you were thanking her for. For not hating you, for being so understanding about avoiding her, for what she’d been saying earlier even if it had sorta broken your heart.

“You don’t need to thank me, but I would really like to see you more often,” she squeezed you more time before letting go. 

“Definitely,” you agreed. 

“We’ll set something up then,” she grinned and said one last goodbye before making her way across the hall. 

You put on a cute outfit, feeling extra excited about today. You and MJ had finally made plans to get together. You reallyneeded this, you hadn’t spent proper time together in a criminally long time and you were hoping to make up for that. 

She’d been away visiting her girlfriend’s family for the summer and now there were only a couple days before you were supposed to be moving in with Alyssa. You’d made her send you her travel itinerary so could out your day together, from start to finish. 

The two of you were going to hit all your favorite spots. First, you were going to grab coffee at your favorite spot, after that you were going to hit some bookstores, some were your old favorites you used to visit together in high school and some were new ones you’d sent to each other in hopes of trying out together. Then you were planning on hitting The Met and finding the funniest pieces there.

“Hey,” you said as you picked up your phone when you heard it ring.

“Hey loser, I’m downstairs,” MJ’s voice rang through your speakers making you squeal with excitement. 

“I’m on my way down! Just one second I need to find my shoes,” you shoved around your closet, frustration growing by the second at the minuscule task keeping you from seeing your friend.

“Calm down Y/N,” she laughed, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You better not,” you grumbled. “It’s been way too long. Oh my GOD! I just had these dumb shoes—” you paused, “Wait never mind, I found them. I placed them by my door.”

MJ cackled on the other end, “Good, now put those bitches on, and get your ass down here Y/L/N, I miss my best friend.”

You felt giddy at her words, “Ok, ok I’ll be right there.”

“I’ll be waiting.” She hung up and you raced to shove on your shoes so you could get down there as quickly as possible. Once your shoes were on you were bounding out the door, down the stars, and out another door before you could pull her into the biggest hug. 

“I missed you so much,” you mumbled against her shoulder. 

“I missed you more,” she admitted. 

“Come on,” you grinned at her, “we’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

“And I can’t say anything 'cause it’s just not my place, y’know?”

“No, I totally understand,” you nodded even though she couldn’t see you. MJ was currently on the other side of the shelf you were browsing and she was telling you about Laura’s family (you’d called them her in-laws and she’d threatened to punch you). Apparently, Laura had a little sister who MJ had found to be extremely obnoxious and arrogant.

You were currently on your third bookstore and the cup of iced coffee in your hand was now more of a cup of melted ice which was making your hand numb. You looked around and spotted a trash can in the corner of the store. As you were making your way over there, MJ continued her little rant, “Don’t even get me started on the way she talks to Laura, it’s just so fucking disrespectful. Honestly, I wanna smack some sense into the little brat.” She said the last part a little quieter but you still heard her. 

Dumping your coffee into the trash bin, you walked over to the side of the shelf she was occupying, leaned against it, and frowned. “I’m sure she was a pain in the ass MJ, but really? That bad?”

She stared you down. 

“Alright,” you held up both your hands, “that bad.” She merely nodded as she kept browsing. You both held bags in your hands filled with your previous finds, MJ’s slightly bigger than yours.

“Oh and I didn’t even tell you about the time that she—”

“Can I help you ladies with anything.” You jumped at the voice behind you. You turned around to see a kid about your age and judging by the name tag and the outfit, you were pretty sure he worked here. 

“Um,” you snuck a peek at MJ who had gone stone-faced, not planning on acknowledging him at all, then turned back to the man before you. He looked to be about your age, with rusty blonde hair and light blue eyes. Despite addressing the both of you, he was looking at you expectantly. 

“No, we’re fine thank you,” you gave him a close-lipped smile, to which he returned with a full grin. “Alright, well if you change your minds I’ll be right over there.”

You waved at him and he shot you a wink as he walked off. when you turned to continue your conversation MJ was smirking at you. 

“What?” You asked her confused.

She just shook her head and smirked, “Nothing,” she grabbed your arm and tugged you beside her, “Come on, I’m just getting this,” she held up her book. “Did you like anything?”

You shook your head, “Eh, I have most of these.”

“Alright, well I’m gonna go check out, wait for me?”

“Of course,” you offered to hold her other bag while she went to pay for her new book and you stood to the side scrolling on your phone while you waited for her. 

“Hey,” you looked up to see the guy from earlier.

“Hi,” you weren’t sure what he wanted, you weren’t even browsing anymore. 

“I didn’t catch your name earlier.”

“Y/N, and you?” You asked politely as if you couldn’t read it on the right side of his chest.

“Isaac” he grinned and held out a hand for you to shake. You accepted and smiled, “Nice to meet you, Isaac.”

“It was really nice to meet you, Y/N. Hopefully, we can meet again,” he held out a slip of paper

“Oh,” you spoke dumbfounded. He shot you a wink and stalked away while you stared at the paper as if it could speak. 

“Are you seeing something I’m not?” MJ asked. You hadn’t even realized she was done checking out, too busy staring at the little slip of paper in your hands. 

“He gave you his number Y/N, stop acting so surprised.” She rolled her eyes but you just furrowed your brows. 

“Come on,” she led you to the front of the store and held the door open for you as you walked out. “Aren’t you gonna ask me what I think?” She said once the two of you were on the sidewalk. 

“Oh…yeah, of course.” You weren’t planning on bringing it up again at all, actually.

“I think you should call him.”

“Wait…what?” You stopped your walking, not bothering to hide the confusion in your tone or your expression. 

“You heard me,” she stopped as well, staring you down. “Why wouldn’t you go out with him? He looks good enough, he’s clearly into you, and he works at a bookstore. All good things.”

You stared at her for a moment. Everything she was saying was valid but all you could think about was—

“Don’t think about him right now, you broke up over a year ago.”

Ouch. 

“I’m not thinking about him,” you lied, “I’m sure he’s out living his own life.”

“He is,” she said seriously. 

Wait, what?

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I was on the phone with him a couple of weeks ago and he was going crazy trying to decide what to wear. And there was a girl knocking on his door, telling him they were expected at some restaurant and they couldn’t be late.” 

“Well…how do you know it was a date?” You tried to reason before you lost your mind. 

She rolled her eyes, but then her expression softened, “He was getting dressed up Y/N, like, date dressed up. And I looked up the restaurant after I heard the name, definitely not a casual place. He’s dating again, probably has been for a while.”

No. Oh no. 

Your head was spinning. There was no way this could be true. Right?!

MJ went on about how it wasn’t right you were waiting around while he was doing whatever he pleased and how she didn’t like to see you so mopey but you could barely comprehend what she was saying. 

You felt all those gross feelings from all the other times Peter’s wonderful life at Duke was mentioned, wrapped around your ribs, your chest, and squeeze, except this time it didn’t fade. 

The bitterness, the jealousy, the feeling of being pushed aside, all of them so big, so huge, you could barely keep track of your thoughts. But there was one particular thought sticking out, how you’d never imagined Peter Parker, your first love, the only boy you’d ever loved, would ever make you feel this way. 

“I’m really sorry Y/N,” MJ said genuinely. “I just thought you deserved to know. I know you have this fantasy that the two of you might end up together again but…I don’t think he feels the same.”

“Don’t be sorry,” your mouth felt dry. “We broke up, he’s free to do whatever he pleases.”

“Maybe,” she sighed, “but he’s such a dick Y/N, please don’t let it bother you. He’s not worth it.”

That’s where you thought she was wrong, he was worth it. He was worth everything to you and the thought of him with someone else was making you feel sick. You couldn’t do this here, in the middle of the street, in front of MJ. As much as you loved her, you didn’t think she’d really understand. Plus, it was true, you had been waiting for your day together all summer, and you weren’t going to let this ruin it. 

“Forget about him, I’m not gonna let him ruin our day. He’s not here, he doesn’t matter.” You could wait until you got home to freak out.

MJ seemed to love your response. She nodded, “He’s not here, he doesn’t matter.”

If only it were that easy. 

You couldn’t seem to get your mind off of Peter all day. It was like the breakup all over again except, this time, it was worse. At least during the breakup, you’d held on to the fact that he did want to be with you, and he would if he could, it was your lives just taking different courses at the moment and you’d find each other afterward. But apparently not. 

You’d done a good enough job at keeping up a cheery disposition for MJ, not wanting to ruin your day together just because the guy who’d broken up with you over a year ago was dating again. Even if you had felt your heart shatter at her words. 

The two of you had gone to The Met and grabbed some dinner afterward before going your separate ways. By the time you were walking back to your apartment, the sun had already started its descent. You paused for a moment, lowering one of your newly purchased books you were skimming through as you stared at the ever-darkening sky. You wondered if there would ever come a time when you would see the stars and not think of him. Hell, you couldn’t even see the stars right now and you still thought of him. 

Your mind wandered to when he’d taught you about seasonal constellations and you started to wonder if that’s what you were, you and Peter. Something temporary, a fleeting moment in time. Sure, he’d told you that the stars were always in the sky, and it was only a matter of light and location that determined whether or not they shone. But as you stared at the sky, you wondered how that was even possible. How it could look so clear, so empty, and yet, you knew they were there. 

The stars might always be there, but you weren’t guaranteed you’d see them. Just like the way Peter’s effect on your life would always be present, there was no denying you wouldn’t be the person you are right now, hell you might not have even been going to the school you went to if it weren’t for him. But that didn’t mean the two of you were guaranteed a future.

Maybe the two of you would never get the right light or location to shine again. Maybe you were more of a Halley’s Comet, a once-in-a-lifetime thing.

And maybe you were a fool for holding out hope this long.

You tried to ration it out with yourself. When he’d said that thing about ‘growing and earning perspective’ you’d always thought of it in an academic/life sort of way. As in, you’d establish yourselves in your fields, you’d take opportunities, focus on your studies, and learn as much as you could, about school and about yourselves. 

But maybe…maybe Peter had meant something else, something more..intimate. Your stomach churned at the thought. Had he really just broken things off with you so he could go to college and fuck around freely? You supposed it was better than him fucking around while you were together but still, you didn’t feel any better. 

You knew you were probably being too dramatic about it, after all, you weren’t together. End of story. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of him with other girls, you weren’t expecting him to shun all romantic endeavors for you but…you weren’t expecting it to happen so fast. 

MJ had been the one to tell. For her to already have known, it must’ve been serious. You knew Peter cared what she thought (she was always sort of the critic of the group, you all valued her opinion) so he wouldn’t have told her or let her believe it if it was just a simple thing. The thought hit you like a knife to the gut. Peter was moving on. 

Why shouldn’t you?

You slept in the next morning, trying to enjoy your days before school started up again, and maybe because you were still mopey about Peter. You didn’t want to be, but you couldn’t help it.

It wasn’t until you got a phone call from Alyssa that you actually sat up straight. “Hey Lyss, what’s up?”

“Hi Y/N! Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

“Me too,” you smiled. She always had a way of cheering you up, finding out about Peter right before you moved in with Lyss was probably a blessing. “Not gonna lie though, I’m staring at the boxes in my room and I’m already tired thinking about moving them all tomorrow,” you laughed. 

“Oh my god same! But I’m not worried too much about it anymore, James and some of his friends offered to help us.”

“Oh, really?” You hadn’t heard about that. “That’s really sweet of them.”

“I know right? Well, technically James offered for them to help, as soon as he heard. But he said he talked to them afterward and they were okay with it.”

“That’s cool,” you’d have to make sure to thank James when you saw him again. 

The two of you talked about when you’d be ready tomorrow and when you’d have time to go grocery shopping to buy the basics. You’d spend tomorrow afternoon moving your things in and you'd probably barely be done by nightfall. 

You had set an alarm to wake you up early and you’d be packing your things into your parent's car, which you were borrowing. And you were going to try your very best to not think of Peter Parker. 

Moving was a pain. 

You were exhausted. Your back hurt, your arms were sore, and you resented yourself for being a bookworm now more than ever. Books were heavy. 

Now you, Alyssa, and James were lounging on the floor of the living room having drinks in your first official apartment. To say you were excited was an understatement. 

“I can’t believe we’re finally done,” Alyssa groaned as she threw her head back. James’ friends had left after you’d finished with the major things that needed to be brought up and you were eternally grateful they were there to help at all. You weren’t sure how you and Lyss would’ve handled chairs and couches by yourself. 

“I can't believe we have our own place,” you grinned. James grinned right back and held up a hand for you to high-five, which you gladly accepted. 

“Yeah, nice going you two,” he looked around and nodded, “this is a pretty good place. And what makes it even better, I’m just a couple of blocks from here.”

“Does that mean we’re going to be seeing more of you?” Lyss wrinkled her nose in feigned disgust and James flipped her off, making you laugh. 

“Hey, you’re supposed to be thanking me right now,” James narrowed his eyes at her and she scoffed.

“I have thanked you dumbass, multiple times. And so has she,” she jutted her thumb at you.

“One more time wouldn’t hurt.”

“Seriously James?” He didn’t budge. She rolled her eyes before reluctantly saying, “Thank you so very much, we appreciate your help.”

James grinned widely, “Anything for a couple of pretty ladies,” he winked at you. “And I’d never miss a chance to get in a favor with the editor-in-chief.”

“Right,” you said, “you're in charge of assigning the articles when we get back, right Lyss?”

She nodded but she and James exchanged a look that gave you the feeling there was something you weren’t privy to, like there was something else he wanted from her. 

“So Y/N,” he turned to you suddenly, ignoring Lyss’s prying eyes shooting at him, “excited to be back on the paper? Hopefully, you’ll get something better than some lousy bathroom renovations this time.”

You nodded, “‘Course I’m excited. And I don’t mind what I get, I’m alright with writing whatever, I’m just glad to be a part of the paper in general.” It wasn’t an easy task, getting on the writing team, but you’d done it and you’d always be grateful.

“Oh don’t be humble,” he rolled his eyes playfully, making you laugh, “I’m sure Lyss will give you something reallyjuicy.” There it was, another look exchanged between the two of them. 

Alyssa turned towards you and smiled “Do you know that annual photography competition?”

“Oh yeah, that’s a big thing isn’t it?” It was major, from what you’d heard. 

“Yeah, it is, and so is the article that needs to be written.” You tried to hide your grin but she didn’t bother hiding hers. “I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you this, but what the hell,” she shrugged carelessly, “it was rescheduled. So instead of it being held at the start of the fall semester like it usually is, it’ll be held a few weeks after we all come back for the spring semester. And you’re getting the article.”

That got you to sit up. “Are you serious,” you gripped her shoulders and shook her slightly. “Lyss, that’s amazing! Holy fuck,” you laughed breathlessly. 

“I’m sorry about the wait, I didn’t know about the postponement until after I’d chosen you,” she shot you an apologetic look.

You shook your head quickly, “Are you kidding? This is amazing!”

“Congrats Y/N,” James grinned at you and pointed his bottle at you before bringing it up to his lips. 

Before you could thank him, Alyssa spoke up, “He knew about it. Actually, he advocated for you to have it.”

Your jaw dropped as you stared at the two of them, “Are you serious?” You repeated. 

James glared at her before returning his gaze to you and chuckling slightly, “Well she definitely wasn’t supposed to tell you that, but yes I did. You’re a great writer Y/N, you deserve it.”

“Thank you, James,” you said sincerely, “that—that means a lot. Thank you.”

“Of course.” He shot you a smile that felt different than any you’d ever seen on him, it was genuine. It wasn’t a cocky smirk or a cunning grin, it was a real smile and it warmed your heart. 

“It’s not until next semester of course,” Alyssa’s voice cut in, catching your attention again, “and you’ll be getting stuff now, when we go back, duh. But I just wanted you to know,” she smiled at you. 

You leaned over and pulled her into a hug, “Thank you.” You shot a look at James, “and thank you too. Thank you both,” you pulled away. 

You don’t need to thank us Y/N, you’ve earned it,” James said genuinely. You shot him a soft smile and stood up. “I’m going to use the bathroom and when I get back, we’re toasting to this.”

“I’ll open you a bottle,” James promised and you thanked him before walking down the hall and opening the door to the bathroom. You were buzzing, this was an amazing opportunity, so many people were involved in that photography competition, and so many people read that article. It was always on the front page!

You couldn’t fight your smile as you left the restroom and you were so ready to thank them again for—

“Get a favor in with me my ass,” Alyssa hissed and you stopped in the hallway to listen to them. You knew it was wrong to eavesdrop but you could’ve sworn you’d heard your name a couple of seconds ago. “We both know why you reallywanted to help with the move.”

“You need to butt out Lyss,” James whispered back. 

“Butt out? What do you mean butt out, you were just asking me to be your wing woman!”

“That was before you ratted me out for suggesting her for the photography article.”

“Oh please,” you heard her scoff and you could practically hear her rolling her eyes, “if anything, that totally worked in your favor.”

James grumbled something you couldn’t make out and you were about  to step out when you heard Lyss speak up again, this time in a more gentle voice, “Look, you really like her, I think you should do something about it.”

You froze in your spot. “I thought you were the one who told me to take it slow, or back off completely.” James shot back. 

“I know, but last year she was going through something. Now, I think you have an actual shot.”

Your mind flew back to MJ and what she’d said a couple of days ago outside that bookstore where the guy had given you his number. Everything about Peter and you moving on…

What if this was your shot?

You turned the corner, stepping out of the hall as if nothing had happened. “Got my bottle for me,” you smiled at James. 

“All ready,” he held it up for you and grinned. You grabbed it and fell back into your spot on the floor, a little closer to James this time. 

“Y/N we were just talking about—” Alyssa had started but her phone started ringing. She looked down and murmured a little curse. “Sorry guys, I have to take this, it’s my mom and she gets so pissed if I don’t answer her.” She grabbed her phone and stood up. You could’ve sworn you saw her glare a bit in James’ direction. 

This was your chance. 

Alyssa stepped away and you heard her voice fade as she moved further into the apartment. James leaned back, lifting his arms over his head, and stretched. You watched as his shirt lifted slightly and you looked down, feeling your face flush. 

He took a swig of his drink and when you realized he probably wasn’t going to start any conversation, you cleared his throat to catch his attention. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

He smirked, “Why’re you asking?”

“Well…you flirt a lot and I guess I was just wondering if that was your personality or—”

“Or if I’m into you?” He finished and you nodded. “And what if I was into you?”

“Then I’d ask if you wanted to go out sometime.” You sucked in a breath. You’d never done this before, asking someone out. It was nerve-wracking. 

“Are you asking me out on a date Y/L/N?” He smirked at you and you rolled your eyes, not appreciating the blush flaming on your cheeks.

“Depends…would you say yes?”

His smirk turned into a grin, “Yes. I would.”

“Cool,” you nodded, taking a sip from the bottle in your hands and looking away from him. You weren’t quite sure what to do now.

He laughed before leaning closer to you, “You have my number saved, right?” You nodded. “Good. I’ll text you the details.”

“Okay,” you said in a low voice. There was no need to speak up, he was right in front of you, and you found yourself stricken, not for the first time, by how beautiful his eyes were. Like vibrant lily pads floating across a pond on a warm spring day.

“Okay,” he repeated, matching your tone. The two of you stayed like that, staring at each other, neither of you speaking. You hadn’t even realized how close your faces had gotten until Alyssa stepped back out. 

“Sorry about that, she just wanted to know how the move went.” You jumped back and James straightened back up. She eyes the two of you suspiciously before taking a seat. 

“Did you tell her it went well?” He asked her. 

She nodded and her gaze flickered between you and James. “Anything I missed?” She asked lightly. 

You and James stared at each other for a moment, your mouth falling open yet you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. Thankfully, James was quicker, “Not really, Y/N was just telling me how excited she was for the article.”

“Yup,” you nodded quickly, “sooooo excited.”

“Okay,” Alyssa grinned wide as if she could see right through your bullshit, “alright.”

James stood up and groaned as he stretched out his arms and legs. You felt a pang of guilt run through when you realized that after everything he’d done, he sat on the floor. That couldn’t have been comfortable. 

“Well, I’m gonna head out,” he said, grabbing his jacket from the coat hanger by the door and swinging it on. “Thanks for the company, and you’re welcome for the help."

“Bye,” Alyssa sang out.

“Bye,” you waved at him and smiled, “thanks again for everything.”

He grinned, “Bye girls,” he said, but his gaze was on you. He grabbed his bottle and opened the door to leave. 

As soon as the click of the closing door sounded, Alyssa was turning toward you with a huge grin on her face. “I give it a few weeks and you’re exclusive.”

Of course she knew.

“I’ve got Professor Bell this semester.”

“Oh I know him,” you said. “He’s the one who’s never got a completed syllabus, right?”

James rolled his eyes. “Yes. The dude’s not that bad honestly, but he can't teach for shit. He’s absent for half the class, it’s like he forgets he’s a professor or something. And he’s always disheveled like he just got laid in his car.”

You laughed out loud. You and James went out after that night when he’d helped you and Alyssa move into your apartment. He’d planned a date and picked you up and the two of you really hit it off. He was different than you in a lot of ways and you supposed that’s part of the reason the two of you worked. Alyssa had been right, it wasn’t long before the two of you were exclusive. 

He’d gone home to visit his family in Long Island for the first week of winter break and he’d invited you to go along, but you’d declined, claiming you had to spend the holidays with your family. He’d understood and was back in the city shortly after. He’d surprised you by showing up to your parents’ apartment unannounced and he’d brought flowers and gifts. After that, you thought you kinda had to meet his parents, so you took a short trip with him shortly before break ended. You’d had a good time and they were sweet people

It was spring now and Columbia seemed to bloom just as much as the flowers planted around its campus. It was gorgeous really, the trees were a vibrant green after looking so dull in the winter, the grass was luscious and perfectly cut, and the students were glowing after their long break. You were only a couple of days into the new semester but you were already feeling better than you were at the start of the year. 

“The photography competition is coming up,” James stated as you passed a lamppost that had a flyer taped on it as you walked together to the newsroom, his arm draped around your waist. 

“I know,” you grinned, “Lyss sent me links to the past few articles online, dating back at least 8 years. I’ve been reading up on it so much I think I know everything there is about the thing, and photography in general.”

James smirked, “Well look at you. I knew you were the perfect girl for the job. Are you taking a date to this thing?”

You grinned, “Are you offering?” It was pretty fancy, held at a venue close to the school, the winner received a cash prize and an internship with whichever newspaper or magazine was sponsoring it that year.

“Offering to go to this upscale party thing with the prettiest girl on campus? I’d be honored.”

“Great. Dress up, this thing has a dress code.”

“Will do. Can’t wait to look at some lame photo with you all night.” He leaned down to kiss you. 

You laughed as you tried to kiss him back, “It’s actually really cool! These kids are super talented and they come up with wonderful ideas. One year, a kid submitted a photo of a broken camera, but the screen was still on, and on it was a picture of his childhood home. Photography is a chance to see the world through someone else’s eyes for a change, and it’s amazing what you could learn about someone if you just pay a little bit of attention to their photo.”

He chuckled, “It’s cute how much you care about this.”

You frowned. “Yeah, well it’s really interesting,” you shook your head, “you’ll see what I’m talking about when we go.”

He clicked his tongue, “They’re just pictures babe, what’s the big deal? I could take one right now.” He held up his phone with his free hand. 

It wasn’t right, you knew that, but you couldn’t help the little whisper in your brain that said Peter wouldn’t act like this. Peter loved photography, you wouldn’t even need to explain to him how special it was, he already knew. 

Seeing the flyers all around campus had been a little off-putting at first. Sure you were excited to get the front page topic, but all you could remember was last year, when you’d seen the flyers and took that as a sign to reach out again. 

Not that it had gotten you anywhere. 

You tried to shove the memory away. It wouldn’t do you any good dwelling on him right now, you had James in your life now, and you were happy. Or trying to be. You reminded yourself of the words you had told MJ that day at the end of summer.

He’s not here, he doesn’t matter.

And as if the universe were playing the biggest joke on you, as if all the stars in the sky had gathered around to play one big, cosmic, prank on you, you heard the very last voice you ever expected to hear. Ever. 

“Ace, is that you?”

read part 4 here

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[malenjoyer]

Hi!

I know right now may not be the best time to say this, but I'm kind of still processing how fast this all happened. As someone who likes to look over artists' past work esp my fav works daily and just suddenly noticed that they're almost all gone: twitter, instagram, and tumblr. It frustrates me that not only has this situation affected you, but how it really takes one selfish and inconsiderate person to ruin everything for others. I truly hope that you can heal from this and maybe we might see those pictures again, but this is just soo much to process. Just love and support for you <33333 🥹🫶😭🫶🫶🫶🫶

Hi. I’ve privated a lot of my work on tumblr and Instagram, so they’re not gone forever. I still have a lot of positive memories with them so I didn’t want to delete them. I wanted to keep all the nice comments and support I’ve gotten over these past few years.. I might unarchive them sometime in the future when I’m more okay with it being looked at. Twitter, I had no choice but to delete it, especially ones with dick, jason, and Peter Parker. My brain freaked out a little bit from seeing evidence of the person saving my art and making fake clip files with them. Logically, I am aware deleting my old art in response is stupid.

But it wasn’t limited to just comic art, it was other interests I had too which was really uncomfortable that someone would go to the extent of pretending they like other stuff I liked. They would also paraphrase tweets I’ve made about my personal life onto their own twitter. That just isn’t okay.

Every interest I’ve ever fallen in love with meant a lot to me. This is probably not publicly known information since I’m relatively private, as a depressed autistic person, a lot of who I am is what I end up liking. My friends and relatives describe me as dressing up like a cartoon character, because everything I like is so visibly obvious. I become utterly consumed in my favorite things. Suddenly, it feels like all of my control was taken away from me. My interests collected over the years were no longer just mine, it was someone else’s because they decided to lie and it was easier to continue lying. I don’t know how much was saved. There was a screenshot of a message with over 8+ of my art works sent excluding the fake files.

I don’t have control over it. The impersonation of my identity and my life experiences.

But I do have control over who gets to see what I put out in the future. I could probably write this better but I’ve rewritten a lot of things within these two days. Rewritten posts over and over so it sounds less aggressive, less hurt, less like I am trying to call for a witch hunt and more just taking extra precautions. I don’t think I have the energy to rewrite this to seem less vulnerable/pathetic.

I want to apologize to everyone who hoped I’d keep my past art public. I know how it feels. I’ve been fans of artists who just blew up their account one day and never came back. I only privated them on tumblr and Instagram. That’s all I can do. Honestly, I’m hoping a part of my brain just forgets some of this happened since depression does come with memory loss.. This post is now too long.. but I hope it gives some insight for what’s happening on my side of the brain. I appreciate all the support so far.

If you see me acting a little weird on twitter, I’m just trying to regain a sense of control over my identity.

[silence-burns]

A Snack of Mine

Fandom: Spider-Man universe 

smut 18+

The smashing noises coming from what Miguel called “the control room” sounded expensive. You may not have been an expert in all things technical, but you were pretty sure the room was in the process of a violent remodeling. 

“Right,” you said. “And you expect me to do what exactly?” 

“How am I supposed to know? It's not me who's usually had to restrain him in this kind of state. It's not my fault no one wants to get close to him. They kinda have a point, though.” Lyla flew around your head, ethereal as ever.

A crash louder than the previous ones came from behind The Door To Miguel's Lair. 

“You do realize he's just ripped a monitor off the wall?”

“You do realize I have no physical presence to do anything about it?” 

Point taken. It didn't make you feel any better and Lyla’s constant spinning didn't exactly help you get your bearings.

You waved your hand through her before the colorful but pixelated display of her panic blinded you completely. If it was an option, you would've gladly allowed anyone else to take your place. Sadly, none of the currently available Peters had a chance of getting to Miguel through his fury.

And hunger.

You sighed before moving towards The Door of Doom. 

"Miguel, I come in peace!" 

The kind of snarling that came from the other side was not something a human throat should've been able to handle. 

"Be a good, nonlethal boy for 10 minutes and you'll get a snack. Maybe even McDonald's!"

The silence that followed was heavy enough to imply precisely where you could shove all the burgers in the worlds, but it was better than blinding rage; you were already making progress! You shoved the door open, quickly closing it behind your back. You clicked the lock into place.

It wasn't sturdy enough to keep any of the Spidermen out, but it served as a symbol. You walked into his lair, and now you had to deal with the consequences.

Miguel was meticulous in his fury. The room used to serve him as both a personal space and one of his less official offices, where he spent time thinking and planning without anyone bothering him. He was the head of the squad meant for suppressing the threats to the entire multiverse, so he had to deal with a never ending stream of things to take care of. A little bit of private space was a healthy solution.

Unfortunately, due to the circumstances called Miles Morales Versus Bad Decision Making, the otherwise pleasant, calming space was now in pieces. Literally—half the furniture lay in ruin spread across the floor like rubble after an explosion.

"I think you missed a few." You kicked away a rather big part of what used to be a desk. "You gotta be more thorough, man."

As much as you wished to feel even half as confident as you sounded, it was a rather difficult task when the only part of Miguel you could see were his eyes, glowing bright red and piercing you through, unblinking. The only source of light was dim and came from behind the broken furniture. The outline of Miguel's body was hardly discernible from the darkness of the room, but you swore he was towering over you more than usual.

And completely still.

"I really hope you aren't too sentimental, because there's no way anything here is savable. You gotta invest in a proper punching bag, or maybe two just in case—..."

"You think this is a joke?"

His voice was low and on the verge of growling. The situation with Miles definitely got under his skin.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer to face my problems with a healthy dose of humor rather than destruction of my belongings. You've got claw marks on your walls, Miguel, come on. Don't you think it’s a bit too dramatic?"

Before you could blink, he was on you. Your back hit the wall just inches from the mentioned claw marks—deep, sharp, and clearly torn through with a lot of force. Looking up into Miguel's glowing eyes and the barely hidden fangs, you knew how capable he was of using said force.

Miguel leaned closer to you, his hand holding you still by the shoulder. Pressed between him and the wall, you could feel your pulse rising, and it was only partially thanks to the heat emanating from Miguel's body.

"The structure of the whole multiverse could be destroyed because of one person."

His voice was so low you could barely understand the words growled from his clenched jaw. Miguel's eyes burned to the point where you could no longer turn your head away. It was hypnotizing and a part of you didn't want to fight it.

"He's a child, Miguel. He's fifteen and his whole world just came crashing down on him."

"It doesn't give him the right to destroy everyone else's."

"No, but he's scared. Scared children need supportive adults, not claws in their faces."

Miguel's eyes dipped down over your lips for a split second, but something shifted through his posture. Still tense, his voice got quieter and lost the aggression. You were so close together that he was almost whispering in your ear, and yet you couldn't hear anything around but him.

"And what would you prefer me to do?" he purred.

"Everyone is already looking for Miles, so let his friends talk to him first once he's found. He has nowhere in the multiverse to hide forever."

Miguel's hand moved from your shoulder to the side of your neck. The claws retracted and now his touch was almost gentle. You missed it, just as you missed the kind of heat that was rising up behind the flaming red of his eyes, different from what most people ever got to see. Something reserved for you.

You turned your face to the side, letting his fingers caress your cheek. Miguel froze, entranced by the way his thumb rested over your lip and how your smile seemed to widen when you noticed too.

"I prefer you like this," you said, making your voice come out as barely a whisper. In his state, Miguel would've heard you from another room. 

You didn't notice when it happened, but he was closer now, imprisoning you between himself and the wall. You both inhaled at the same time, chests pressing together a moment. His whole body was tense and wrapped tight around you. His thighs crushed yours and you wouldn't be able to move away even if you wanted to. 

"I know what you're doing and… this really isn't a good time."

"You say it with such a scary look on your face, and yet you do nothing to stop me."

Miguel's nostrils flared when you put your teeth over your bottom lip.

And pushed.

Miguel's hand wrapped around your jaw, holding your face up towards him. His fingers dug into your skin, the gentle caress long gone. There was only a firm hold and a predator that smelled blood.

His pupils narrowed in a split second and the breath he took was shaky, as if he wanted to smell every bit of blood rising from the tiny cut.

"You've been on that artificial shit for a long time now," you cooed. "But we both know it can never be quite the same as the real thing."

You could see him trying to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth. You stood on the tips of toes and brushed his lips with yours.

It was as if an electric shock struck his body. Miguel growled as he forced your mouth open, and then again when his warm tongue licked the blood smeared over you. He forced you back down with one push of his hips and you could feel him growing harder despite his spider suit. 

He sucked on your lip, hungry for more, just as his other hand found its way onto your hip and held it firmly against his own.

Miguel's open-mouthed kisses were growing sloppier as he followed your jawline and down the side of your neck. You couldn't help but push your fingers into his curls, marveling over how soft they felt and how perfect they were for grabbing his head and moving it just to the spot you wanted him at. 

Despite the urgency of his need and all of his senses blurry, Miguel let you guide him, breathing in your scent. There were no words to explain how much he missed it every time you had to go back to your own universe and leave him thinking, wanting and alone.

Miguel loved the way your nails sank into his hair and tugged harder every time he scratched your skin with his fangs. He couldn't help himself when he heard the softest of moans leave your throat and felt the way you kept grinding yourself over his cock. Miguel bit your shoulder hard when your hand wandered to his still clothed shaft and lightly scratched over the thin, bulging fabric.

"You're really testing my patience," he breathed into your skin.

"I hope you earn a good grade."

Miguel's hand moved from your hip to the bracelet controlling the features of his suit, but you slapped it away before he could take it off. You pressed harder over his erection, stretching the suit more.

"Who said I'm gonna let you rush so much?"

"I really don't think we have the—..."

A loud knock on the closed door made you both jump. 

"They found traces of Miles' signature!"

Miguel pushed his head into the crook of your swollen, tender neck, cursing with passion in Spanish. You may not have known the language well, but some things were truly universal.

You kissed his temple and brushed his wide shoulders. "You've got this."

Miguel took a slow, deep breath of your scent, noting all the various changes in it. But he did not budge.

"Prepare the team," he finally shouted back. "I'll be there in five minutes."

He caught your eyes widening and smiled ominously. The flaming red was shining through his own eyes again. 

"I have something to take care of first."

[ironspiderfics]

someone else living in his skin

by @iron--spider for @shoyzz-art

~

Peter slides up alongside Rhodey, and Rhodey startles.

There’s a cacophony of twinkling glasses and chairs being pulled out and whatever weird jazz music playlist Tony’s got playing, and all of it seems loud, in Peter’s ears. Shaking his nerves. 

“Jesus Christ,” Rhodey says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What are you doing? I thought you were putting out table numbers—”

“Do you think he’s acting shifty?” Peter asks, calmly as he can.

He’s calm. Why wouldn’t he be calm?

His eyes are locked on Tony. 

They’re in the middle of setting up this mini gala event, the opening for Stark’s new research facility in the Lower East Side. It’s gonna create hundreds of jobs and scholarships and internships and it’s gonna be a really good thing, partnering with the museums and businesses in the area. Peter’s actually really excited because he’s got the title of ‘Lead Researcher’ for the intern pool, whatever that winds up meaning from day to day, and he thought Tony would be really excited too. He loves celebrations, he loves new opportunities and helping people, but—

But for the last two days he’s been…different.

He’s been…off.

But Peter’s calm. He’s calm about it. There’s no reason why he shouldn’t be calm.

His eye is just twitching a little bit.

Rhodey looks at Tony, and then he looks at Peter, and then he looks at Tony again. He narrows his eyes, like he’s trying to assess the situation. 

“He’s just—I don’t know,” Peter says, blowing out a breath. He wrings his hands together and cracks his jaw. 

“Is this a spidey sense thing?” Rhodey asks, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Peter shrugs, still watching him. Tony is sort of looming around—straightening a table cloth here, pushing in a chair there, glancing over his shoulder like he thinks someone is watching him. He’s sweating more than normal. 

“A little bit of that, a little bit of—just—he’s acting weird,” Peter says. “Not acting like himself, I guess ever since the other night when that guy tried to break in—”

“But we dealt with that,” Rhodey says, looking at him. “It was in and out—cops came, got the guy—”

“Right, I know, but it’s been since then he’s just been like—I don’t know,” Peter says, blowing out a breath. “Like he—the other night, he forgot that I already graduated, he was asking me when I was gonna graduate—”

“We all forget that,” Rhodey says, raising his eyebrow at him. “You’re perpetually twelve—”

“You didn’t even know me when I was twelve—”

“You’re twelve now—”

Peter sighs. “Well, he normally remembers, and he was the one at my graduation screaming and yelling and making a big scene so, that’s not really—easily forgotten, and he was being weird about Spider-Man the other day—”

“Weird how?” Rhodey asks, turning towards him completely, now. “Because he’s always weird about Spider-Man. Every other day he’s messaging me like how do we convince Peter to retire?”

Peter clicks his tongue. “Asking me things he knows. Like how I make my webs and which suit is my favorite and—I don’t know, stuff like that. Weird stuff.”

“You’ve been staying at the compound since that guy tried to break in?”

“Yeah,” Peter says. “Me and May both, the apartment has that infestation, everybody’s out for at least a week.” 

He clears his throat. The guy trying to break in was weird—he seemed normal, no powers, no real intentions, he got pretty far but was taken down fast, and he didn’t seem at all—fazed, by any of it. He was even polite. 

Maybe it got under Tony’s skin? A lot of stuff like that does. They’ve been through enough, with the dying, coming back again two years later, him nearly dying trying to fix it all—a petty thief trying to get into an Avengers compound is just the kind of irritation that might set him off. Last straw kinda deal.

Rhodey stares over at Tony again, and Peter looks too. Tony is being twitchy. He’s talking to waiters and he’s got his hands behind his back and his fingers are twitching. 

“Has Pepper said anything to you?” Rhodey asks.

“Has Pepper said anything to you?” Peter asks, raising his eyebrows. “Because she’s more likely—I mean, with me, we talk about MIT, when I start, how my summer’s going, we talk about, um, TikTok recipes, we talk about MJ, and Tony in the capacity of like, Iron Man, and Spider-Man, or his birthday, or Christmas, but not like—I’m just saying, she’s more likely to—have said something to you, or Happy, than me.”

“No, she hasn’t, but now that you mention—and he is acting weird right now—and yesterday he did get off the phone fast, different from how he normally…” Rhodey trails off, shaking his head. 

“Maybe he’s sick?” Peter asks, worrying a little bit more now. He thought maybe he was overreacting, he thought Rhodey would brush him off and he’d feel better and then Tony would magically start acting normal again after the conversation. “Nervous? He doesn’t usually—”

“No,” Rhodey says, shaking his head. “Not nervous, these things are—easy, like the back of his hand—sick, maybe, but I thought he was well beyond hiding sick from us, so I hope not—” He looks resolute, all of a sudden, and he claps Peter on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go talk to him. We’ve got an hour or so still, of set-up, so let’s just—just keep on putting out the numbers, doing everything on your list—”

“Okay,” Peter says, nodding, and Rhodey pats him on the shoulder again, moving past him. Peter watches, nonchalantly, as Rhodey walks up to Tony, taking his arm and sort of moving him across the room.

And it’s probably fine. 

Rhodey’s gonna talk to him, figure it out, and it’s gonna be okay. 

Peter keeps repeating that to himself, as he does his little jobs, and he marks them off his list in his notepad—table numbers, check, badges at the door, check, banners, check, taste test the hors d'oeuvres, mostly check, and he totally had that spelled wrong in his notes and it’s fine—

And when people start to arrive, he realizes that he hasn’t seen Tony or Rhodey since—Rhodey left to go talk to him.

And he gets a little nervous and he looks around, trying to scan the room—not completely full yet, and nothing’s started, but Pepper is here and he sees Happy—

—and May makes him jump when she shows up behind him.

“What’s wrong, honey?” she says, giving him that look, that look that’s gotten sharper and even more severe with every one of his near death experiences. 

So he decides not to tell her what’s going on in his head. Which is usually the opposite of what she wants, but this probably isn’t anything, so. “Nothing,” he says, clearing his throat, still trying to scan around. But Tony and Rhodey aren’t here, not anywhere he can see.

“That’s not your nothing face,” she says, rubbing his arm. “Do you have a job you’re supposed to be doing? Is your brain tingling?”

He narrows his eyes at her. “No, it’s—no, it’s not—I gotta, uh, one second—can you make sure you get me one of those little wonton things? Or like three of them? I keep seeing them on the trays and I haven’t gotten to try one yet—”

“You’re concerned about that?” she asks, her eyes still worried and distrustful.

“Yes,” he says, grinning at her quickly before he starts to go looking. 

Part of him feels like he should say something to Pepper, but he doesn’t want to stress her out—and like, it’s probably nothing, everything is probably fine, and he makes a beeline for the door that leads to the little backstage area. 

“Tony?” he says, and the crowd noise goes muffled when he lets the door swing closed behind him. It’s so quiet back here—he doesn’t even see any of the employees or the guys that do the lights or any of Tony’s security—there wasn’t even anybody at the door when he scanned in.

He hears what sounds like something—brushing against the ground—

“Tony?” Peter asks again, glancing around. “Rhodey? Are you guys, uh—I feel like we’re getting ready to—”

Peter turns another corner and stops dead.

Rhodey is on the ground, knocked out, and Tony is dragging him by the arms. He looks up, and sees Peter there, and the look on his face—he doesn’t—Peter’s brain is going a mile a minute and he’s already surging forward to help but the look on Tony’s face—it registers somewhere in the back of Peter’s mind…

“Oh my God, what—what happened?” Peter asks, rushing over and kneeling down next to Rhodey. “What happened, what did—”

“Uh, he fell,” Tony says, and he kneels down next to him. He nods, and widens his eyes and shakes his head, and he doesn’t seem nearly as concerned as he usually would be. Tony normally loses his mind when Rhodey so much as gets a paper cut, so this is…this is…

“How?” Peter asks, looking at Tony and back at Rhodey again. “He was just—”

“I don’t think he ate enough,” Tony says.

Every alarm bell is going off in Peter’s head. They’ve been going off tonight, and for a couple days, honestly, if he really thinks about it, but it’s loud now. He feels like time is slowing down, like his vision is getting narrow, like all of his senses are on high and zeroing in.

And it feels wrong. The shift in the air and his own suspicion, it feels wrong. What would be wrong with Tony?

But that’s where this is going.

It’s focusing on him.

Peter looks at Rhodey, and there’s a bruise on his cheek—

And Tony is clenching and unclenching his fist—

“Tony?” Peter asks, slowly, glancing up at him. His brain isn’t working. It isn’t working and it’s working too fast and he feels like he’s trudging through sludge. Every move is the wrong move.

And Peter looks at him in a certain way. With suspicion. And he hates it, and he feels sick, but he can’t shake it—

And Tony doesn’t answer him. He just looks at him, and the light that’s usually behind his eyes is gone, and his expression is one Peter doesn’t recognize. 

Like someone else is living in his skin.

And just as that thought takes hold and sends chills down Peter’s spine, setting off a whole new line of panicked questions in his head, Tony clicks his tongue. And he sighs.

“Shit,” he breathes. And it’s his voice, of course it’s his voice, but it sounds twisted, and different, and before Peter can even react, before he can pounce on the alarm bells and the way his senses are narrowing and signaling, Tony surges forward with a stiff arm to Peter’s throat, and knocking him to the ground. 

Tony punches him, with his full strength behind it, and Peter is so shocked that he doesn’t even block, and he tastes blood immediately. He winces, gasping, and he blocks the next one, and then Tony is grabbing his forearms and tossing him across the room. 

Peter hits a thing of shelving, and a bunch of buckets fall down on top of him, and through the pandemonium, he sees Tony running away from him.

“What the fuck,” Peter breathes, and he scrambles to his feet—

And Tony would never hit him, ever, not ever, and Peter’s head pounds, with the force of the punches, with the alarms going off, with fear and worry, and is this a clone, is it mind control—either way he has to get him, there’s a reason, but what is it, what is it—

And if he’s a clone it’d be different, but if it’s mind control, Peter might be able to get through to him, he might be able to break it—

And Peter scrambles to his feet, wiping the blood from under his nose with the back of his hand, and he starts taking off in the same direction Tony did—

And he can’t even call his name before he’s taking the full force of a repulsor blast. 

He’s knocked backwards again, slamming into the wall, and he can feel it cave in against his back with the strength of the hit. He coughs, gasping, and his jacket is smoldering and his skin underneath it is too, and he sees Tony standing there with the repulsor aimed at him—he’s only wearing one, and Peter rolls out of the way, narrowly avoiding getting hit again and trying to catch his breath.

He’s not thinking, because nothing makes sense, and Peter just rushes at him and tackles him to the floor—

And Tony punches him again, with the iron hand this time, and Peter’s neck twists hard with the hit—his jaw cracks, blood in his teeth—

And everything in him is screaming to fight back, fight back, but it’s Tony, he—he can’t—he can’t hurt him he fucking can’t hurt him—

And he grimaces, metal in his mouth, and grabs both of Tony’s wrists, mid-flail, and pins him to the ground—

“Doesn’t fucking matter, it’s set,” Tony hisses, and he doesn’t even sound like himself, and the way his face is contorting, he doesn’t look like himself either. Peter’s heart is in his throat, and he dodges another repulsor blast that Tony manages to get off, and Peter covers the repulsor with his hand and twists Tony’s fist and focuses—

“What is? What is?” Peter knows it’s not him, not right now, not really, but he can’t help— “Tony, Tony, are you in there? Are you in there, can you hear—”

“It’ll still do damage where it is—they’d never scan Tony Stark himself at one of his own events,” Tony says, and he grins, manic. “Good way to get it done, huh? One big blast, kill him, ruin his reputation at the same time—”

And Peter’s mind drifts again, like a lifeboat at sea, and he remembers Tony saying earlier that he wouldn’t need his webshooters here, but he packed them anyway. He remembers him with a gym bag, a duffel, he remembers oh nothing, just a few extra lights, and May is here and Rhodey and Happy and people are starting to arrive and Tony himself—Tony himself, and he’s not a clone, he’s not, they’re—they’re trying to kill him, it’s—it’s mind control, it has to be, they used him to smuggle a device in, and they’re trying to kill him—

Peter’s mind drifts, and guides him, and every time it feels like a pull, like a bunch of arrows, but this is more powerful than he’s felt in a while—

And Tony knees him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him again—Tony grabs him by his shoulders and Peter wrenches away, and they both stumble to their feet again and for a minute they’re in a boxing match, except Peter keeps getting hit, because he’s pulling his punches, because it’s Tony, it’s Tony—

“Stop, stop, stop, you’re—”

Another blow across his cheek, breaking the skin, and he hears a high pitch in his ear, and Tony grabs him by the throat and shoves him against the wall—

And Peter gasps, and pushes him, hard, and Tony trips back and nearly falls and even the way he’s moving right now doesn’t seem like him—

And Peter rushes away and tries to run, his head drifting, pulling him, alert, alert—

Webshooters, backpack, the duffel—they were together, he left it—left it with their stuff, back here, when they—when they got here—

And there are arrows in his head and they’re pulsing and buzzing like neon signs, and he knows he’s going the right way—

But he’s being pulled back to the ground by his ankle, and his head cracks on the tile, and it’s stars and metal and arrows and buzz buzz, how much time is on the clock, we don’t know, we don’t even know it’s a bomb, we don’t even know if it’s counting down, but it sure as shit feels like it—

And he tries to scramble up again and his spidey sense can usually help him from all angles, but it feels off, here, and he knows it is when Tony hits him in the face again, when he grabs him and throws him—and punches him again, rattling his brain in his skull—

And it’s because it’s Tony, because he’s not—he’s not a threat, but he is, he is, right now he is—

“Tony!” Peter yells, because maybe he can get through, maybe he can— “Please—”

And he dodges out of the way of another hit, and stumbles up against the far wall in the narrow backstage hallway—

“Tony, this isn’t—it’s me, it’s Peter, Tony, you have to fight this!” he yells, and he starts running again—again—

“He’s not home!” Tony sing-songs, laughing. “Should have known you’d be fucking trouble, a stupid fucking kid is Spider-Man—”

And Peter runs from him, and sees the fire alarm on the wall, and he grabs it and pulls it as he passes it by—

And the alarm goes off in the real world now, in tune with the one in his head, flashing red and white. He hears Tony curse and yell behind him, and Peter has to—he has to—

Doesn’t fucking matter, it’s set—it’ll still do damage where it is—

It has to be a bomb, it has to be—

And he grits his teeth—Tony is still on his heels, and tears sting in Peter’s eyes along with the heartbeat thump of the pulp his face is turning into, and he sucks in a breath and dodges another repulsor blast—

He has to get him to stop, stop, stop trying to stop him—

And he turns around, and tries to hold back and focus at the same time—

“I’m sorry, I’m—I’m so so sorry—”

And he punches him once, and then again, directly in the face, and Peter knows how strong he is and he tries not to hurt him too badly, and Tony crumples and Peter catches him, guiding him to the ground—

And even though the arrows and the alarms are buzzing and jolting in Peter’s entire body now, he sniffles through the blood and makes sure Tony is still breathing, makes sure he still has a pulse, and he is, he does, and Peter squeezes his shoulder and he can’t think about after, not til they get there—

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, squeezing his shoulder again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

And he gets up and he doesn’t let himself look back and he starts running again—

And he’s limping now, and he doesn’t know where that came from, and he finds the place where they stored their bags—

And alarms in his head, and the fire alarm in the building, and lights flashing on and off and he can hear the insanity in the main ballroom, and he finds the duffel and rips it open and—

It is a bomb. 

And it’s got a five minute counter.

Peter scrambles, his head pounding pulsing sick, and he gets his webshooters out and puts them on and grabs the entire duffel bag and slings it over his shoulder.

And he makes a break through the nearest emergency door.

And he gets a running start and leaps into a swing, and his whole face hurts and the emergency in his head is steeping him in a bubble now, because the source is with him, and the danger is still back there, because he doesn’t know if knocking Tony out broke the mind control or if he’s gonna wake up still trapped as an angry Terminator—

And Peter swings, trying to launch himself higher and higher, and he can hear the timer clicking and he keeps track of the count and he can’t be a second off or this is gonna go south—

And it might not work anyway—

And this is dire straits, but Peter finds himself thinking of normal things, and they rise above the noise in his head and the oncoming sirens and he doesn’t feel calm, exactly—his face is pulsing with the pain of the hits he took and he feels like he lost a couple teeth, and his shoulder feels like it’s not in the socket properly every time he swings higher, and his leg is in fire and his spidey sense is an orb of panic, encasing him in a snow globe, but—

He thinks of watching that African Grey Parrot with MJ and Ned the other day, for two hours straight, wiping out the entire YouTube catalog of all his antics. He thinks about the yoga class with May at Bryant Park they got with that Groupon and the seven chai lattes she had lined up beside her mat like bowling pins. He thinks about touring the MIT campus with Tony and the way he introduced him to everybody and said this kid is gonna be the best student you ever have. Sharing french fries at Sebastian’s Cafe. I’m so proud of you.

And he hears the beeping speed up, and he’s thinking of all of that and everything else and why did I wear these shoes why not the brown ones as he tosses the duffel into the air at the arc of his highest swing, and it explodes above him in a mess of orange fireball and knocks him right out of the air—

~

Tony wakes up broken apart.

He doesn’t open his eyes right away. He’s not in the vice grip anymore, not locked into some subconscious pit in his own body while some asshole takes the reins, but he feels like—he feels like the asshole could take over again at any minute, like he’s still in his head somewhere. Dormant, waiting for a moment of weakness so he can shove Tony back down in his cage—

His hands are cuffed together, and he’s—he’s cuffed to something—

He groans, rattling his hands a little bit, and he wakes up and—

Rhodey and Pepper are there. He’s on the floor, and cuffed to a pipe in the wall, and they’re sitting in front of him, and they both look wary and he doesn’t fucking blame them, and his head is pounding and his memories are slapdash watercolor but—

“It’s me,” he breathes, his throat hurting. “It’s me, it’s me—”

“There’s something wrong with you,” Rhodey says, and he exchanges a look with Pepper. He’s got a butterfly bandage on his cheek and Tony thinks that’s me, my fault and what else did he, what else—

“No, I know,” Tony says, squeezing his eyes shut, and his head is pounding and it feels like someone shredded him from the inside out, and—

Tony, you have to fight this—

He remembers, barely—the NYPD taking that guy away, laughing at the idea that they had to ‘save Iron Man’, and he was alone that night and still skeeved off over the whole thing and then he felt the pinch on his arm and felt the thing burrowing and he panicked and he couldn’t even panic for long enough before he seized, before he fell inside himself—

“Thing in my arm,” he croaks, still squeezing his eyes shut tight, because light hurts because voices hurt because everything hurts, and he’s trying to put together the puzzle of his memories and he feels like he might throw up because—because he’s here now but the other guy—he’s here too, he’s still in there, he’s still—and any moment he could— “There’s a thing in my upper arm, left arm—you need to—dig it out, I think it’s right below—right under the skin, it’s like—it made me—made me susceptible, created a link, I don’t fucking know, get it out. You need to get it out.”

“Tony, what—”

Pepper’s voice.

“Pep, he’s—”

“It’s me right now, get it out of my arm or it might not be me in—” He opens his eyes too fast, and really feels like he’s gonna fucking throw up, and they’re both looking at him like he’s the biggest piece of trash they’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing, and that makes him sick too, and what did he—what did he do, what—puzzle pieces, shifting, falling off a glass table—

And he feels his hands breaking skin—

“Jesus Christ,” Rhodey says, and he shifts around and moves over to Tony’s left side, pushing up his sleeve. Tony isn’t even sure where the hell they are right now—he was deep inside, dark and dank and paralyzed in his own body—

“Jesus,” Rhodey says again, and Tony cranes his neck a bit and sees it, feels Rhodey running his finger over a little bump in his arm about the size of a nickel—

“Cut it out,” Tony says, closing his eyes again. “I’m serious, find a knife, cut it out, that’s—”

“Tony,” Pepper says, and she’s rubbing his knee—

“Pepper,” Rhodey says, in that warning tone he has, and the fact that he has to warn Tony’s wife not to touch him is just—

“Cut it out, Rhodey, I’m serious—”

“Alright, Jesus Christ, alright—” And he scrambles away—

“Sterilize it, Rhodey,” Pepper calls after him, looking at Tony again. Her face is streaked with worry, and she looks at him with wariness and pity and love all at the same time. “Tony, why didn’t you—you couldn’t say—”

“I was here but I wasn’t,” he breathes, and the cuffs are hurting his wrists, and everything is fucking hurting, and what did he do what did he do how the fuck long has it been. “Someone—someone got me, I let my guard down and someone—”

It was so easy. The guy used himself as a distraction, as bait, and then he—he did whatever the hell he did and then he was in Tony’s head—

“Okay, okay,” Rhodey says, rushing back around the corner again. “Close your eyes, Tony, if you are—Tony, goddamnit—”

Tony swallows hard, nodding and closing his eyes, and he winces, holding onto the pipe as Rhodey cuts into his skin. He does it fast, and Tony grits his teeth, and he feels Rhodey take the thing out and then he hears him stomping and stomping and stomping—

Feels like plates falling and crashing to the ground inside Tony’s skull. 

He doesn’t get it all, but he gets flashes—the bomb under his hands, Rhodey confronting him, Peter—

Peter.

He remembers hitting him. Over and over, and is that the same hit or—how many times did he—

Peter hitting the wall, and Tony recoils, a tremor running through him, and what did he, what did—

“Where’s Peter?” he asks, looking back and forth at them. His arm is throbbing, everything hurts, he’s frail and sick and he’s probably gonna fucking puke but he doesn’t care. “Where’s Peter, where is he?”

They both just stare at him, and kind of look at each other, and Tony’s heart sinks. 

“What, did I kill him?” he asks, his voice breaking. He grabs onto the bar he’s cuffed to, feeling like he needs to hold on. He’s terrified. “What, what? Where is he?”

“Tony, you were…” Rhodey starts, shaking his head. “You—the kid knew you were acting weird and I went to confront you and you knocked me out—and I guess—Jesus, I guess you were—are, I don’t goddamn know—being mind controlled, and you brought a bomb in here—we’re at the gala, for the new facility—and Peter sussed you out and you two got into it and he knocked you out and I guess—knocked this guy’s control on you loose enough—but he—he took the bomb and—he had webshooters and he—”

Tony closes his eyes, white noise eating into his vision, and he feels like he’s gonna pass out. “Is Peter dead?” he breathes, shaking.

“We’re trying to find him,” Pepper says, and she rubs Tony’s knee again. “Some people got footage, he tossed it into the air and he was blown back and now we can’t—Happy is out there looking, Sam and Natasha are looking, we’ve got emergency deployment teams looking—”

“Uncuff me, please,” Tony half-whispers, because his voice gets caught in his throat. “I need to help, I need to—I need to help look for him—”

“Tony, you’re—”

“He’s not in my head anymore,” Tony snaps, looking at Rhodey. He doesn’t know how the fuck he can prove that, but he can feel it now. It’s different, he’s—he feels ill, and weak, but he doesn’t feel trapped. He doesn’t feel like the ground is about to fall out from underneath him. “And you need to find someone to get that dipshit, he was supposed to be in jail, but right now, I’m—I’m in here alone, okay? I wanna help look for Peter, I want to—please let me, please. You can stay with me, but I need to—just—please. Please.”

Pepper and Rhodey exchange a look, and Tony keeps getting flashes—his fist connecting with Peter’s face, grabbing him and throwing him against the wall—and he shakes them off, swallowing hard. “Please,” he breathes.

Rhodey heaves a sigh. “Lemme get the key.”

~

Tony watches the footage from the quinjet while they scan over the city. He was ruthless, relentless, and he watches himself grab Peter by the throat, toss him every which way, hit him and hit him and hit him again. He made him bleed, over and over, he shot him and burned him up and dragged him to the ground, and Peter barely fought him. He actively avoided it, and got worse because of it. Tony keeps watching, and before long Clint is walking over and taking the phone from him. 

“It wasn’t you,” he says, giving him a pointed look. “Alright? You know that. It wasn’t you.”

“Sure looked like me,” Tony says, getting up and walking back over to Friday’s main control panel. Peter wasn’t in a suit, so this is harder than normal. 

“It wasn’t,” Clint says, sitting back in the pilot’s seat. And he doesn’t say much else about it, but Tony knows he knows firsthand what he’s going through, what this feels like. And it helps a little bit, but not much. The images are imprinted in his head.

He loves Peter. May trusts Tony with her nephew, her surrogate son, the person in her care, and it’s gotten to the point that it’s just a given that Peter is safe with Tony, that Tony’s always gonna help him and protect him. But now there’s this. Now there’s Tony punching him and hitting him and choking him and making him bleed, and he looks down at his hands and they shake. 

Nobody else was hurt, he didn’t do anything else, but that’s because Peter took the bomb. He took that on himself, Tony’s mistake, Tony’s problem, and he put himself in danger to solve it and save everybody. And now they can’t find him. 

Tony wavers back down into the closest seat.

“Stop beating yourself up,” Pepper says, walking out of the back compartment and sitting down next to him. “It wasn’t you. You’re a victim here too.”

“I hurt him, whether it was…me in charge or not,” Tony says, his eyes straining with tears as he looks at her. “These hands hurt him. And I almost…blew up the goddamn gala, if it wasn’t for him noticing—”

“I didn’t notice,” she says. “I should have—Rhodey should have—”

“You guys are busy,” Tony says, looking at the screen again. He’s got a social media tracker up too, and so many people are talking about what happened. Peter didn’t have a mask on, but thankfully, there’s no good footage of his face. 

Everyone is calling him a hero. Because that’s exactly what he is, what he always has been.

“You need people to look out for you too,” Pepper says, running her hand through his hair. “We should have done better, but Peter’s got that little…alert system in his brain, and he’s intuitive, and he knows you. He loves you, he worries.”

Tony shakes his head, looking down at his hands again. He knows May is with Happy, searching, and he can’t even imagine how she feels right now. He feels fucking sick.

“You need someone to check you out too,” Pepper says, still touching him gently, and he doesn’t deserve that either. “Probably have a concussion.”

“Not til we find him,” Tony croaks. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Tony,” she says, but he shakes his head. He’s supposed to be better than this. They defeated a fucking Titan, they defied death and time and saved the goddamn world. And he lets a petty thief mind control him? Take away his agency? Hit Rhodey, threaten an event with innocent people, hurt Peter, badly, put him in harm’s way—

“Tony,” Clint says. “I think we got something.”

~

Peter needs to get up.

He’s been laying here for forty five years he’s an old man now—

He needs to get back he needs to fix Tony so nothing else happens he needs to protect him and get that guy that did this it must have been that guy that’s when it started and he doesn’t know how he did it but he mind controlled him somehow—

Peter coughs, twisting onto his side, and he spits out some blood, and a tooth, and he hopes it’s his wisdom tooth that’s been bothering him the top right one—

He got exploded, that’s right—

And his face hurts, and where the repulsor got him is burning and he feels like he’s wheezing and he falls back on his back again and he feels like he’s on fire a little bit and is his left eye closed or welded closed or gone forever and his leg—twisted—

And just a second just a second—

Black again, in a wonder wheel of spiraling stars—

“Hey, hey. Pete.”

He opens his eyes. Tony is there, cupping his face in his hands, and Peter smiles a little bit, dizzy.

“Is it you?” he asks, or thinks he asks. He can’t hear his own voice. Tony sounded muffled too, but he nods at him.

“It’s me,” he says. He looks so sad. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Peter closes his eyes again, because they’re so heavy. “It’s okay,” he says, and he feels like he’s being lifted up, and he doesn’t remember anything else after—

He opens his eyes. He feels like he’s moving, and he recognizes the tiny medical room in the quinjet. Tony is right next to him, and he stands up when he sees Peter’s awake, and is Peter awake? He feels…crazy, he feels…

“Tony,” he says, and he tries to sit up. “Is it you? Is it you? Are you—”

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Tony says, stepping closer. He still sounds muffled, and faraway, and so does everything else. But he looks like himself. He’s not off anymore. “I’m not gonna hurt you again. Jesus, Pete, I’m so sorry—”

Peter shakes his head, blinking at him. “You didn’t, you—it wasn’t you, you didn’t—”

“I did, technically,” Tony says, and he just stands there and he’s got tears in his eyes and he isn’t really looking at him. He’s close, but he’s keeping his distance. “We’re on our way back, to the compound, May and everybody else is meeting us there—you, uh, you saved everybody, you’re burned in a couple places from the blast and my—goddamn repulsor, but Helen’s gonna—when we get back, she’s going to—”

He sighs, stops talking and rests his elbows on the bar of the bed, and hangs his head, like he’s ashamed. Peter hasn’t ever really seen him like this, and his brain still feels like it’s swiss cheese but he sits up a little bit more. He covers Tony’s hands with his own and squeezes them, and tries not to think about how much everything hurts.

“You wouldn’t be mad at me if this was opposite,” Peter says, staring at the top of his head. “You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t blame me at all and I don’t blame you either so. So. Just don’t even, I mean. Just don’t.”

“You can’t even talk straight,” Tony says, still not looking up. 

“That’s most of the time,” Peter says, still holding onto his hands. 

Tony sighs. “I put you in danger and I hurt you. I watched the footage, it was a fucking nightmare, and you let me keep hitting you because you know how strong you are and you didn’t want to hurt me so you just let me keep hurting you—”

“It wasn’t you,” Peter says, trying to be assertive, and he’s so tired, he’s so, so tired. He leans forward, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder, and he closes his eyes. “It wasn’t your fault. It isn’t. So stop. I know you won’t and you’re gonna live in this and punish yourself forever but like, don’t. Don’t do that.” He sighs, leaning into him. “Did you guys get the bad guy—”

“Sounded like it,” Tony says, and he’s still hanging his head, and Peter sighs. “I think so. I gotta check in with Rhodey again. Make sure nobody else got mind controlled.”

“So it all worked out,” Peter says.

“You nearly getting exploded is not it all working out.”

“I didn’t get exploded I only got slightly singed and nobody else got exploded and you are no longer mind controlled so. Win to me.”

Tony sighs again, and he gently, very gently, wraps his arms around Peter and hugs him. “I’m gonna jump off a fucking roof,” he says. “I never wanna hurt you. Never. I can barely remember it, I’ve got flashes—”

“Don’t try,” Peter says, reaching up and holding onto his arm.

“—but I saw the footage—”

“Forget it,” Peter says. “Erase it.”

Tony shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have ever—allowed it to happen in the first place, and I still don’t know how the hell it did, and I’ve just got—a lot of work to do, to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I can’t let myself get taken like that, used like a fucking goon against people I love. Jesus Christ. You’re hurt because of me.”

“Nope,” Peter says, because he doesn’t have the brain power to try and fight him harder, even though he knows it’s gonna be a guilt battle probably for the rest of their lives. 

“Pete,” Tony says, still holding onto him.

“Nope,” Peter says again, and he drifts. Spidey sense is dormant. He’s a piece of raw meat but he’s—safe.

~

And Tony isn’t there when Peter wakes up again, back at the compound. May is there, and after she hugs him and kisses him about a hundred times, she breaks out the Tupperware, containing all the little appetizers from the gala that never was. 

And Tony stays missing in action the next couple days, even though everyone else comes by to see how Peter is doing. Rhodey implies that Tony paid a special visit to the asshole that did this, but he doesn’t go into detail on what the encounter entailed. The guy did have hidden powers, clearly, and Doctor Strange even gets involved trying to figure out how he did it, what exactly that thing was that they pulled out of Tony’s arm. 

But three days later and Peter still hasn’t seen him again. 

“Maybe he’s busy,” Ned says, as he and Peter and MJ walk up and down the hallways. Peter broke his ankle, somewhere in all the insanity, and pulled a muscle in his calf. He’s been trying to walk around a lot during the day, even though he’s still on bed rest.

“He’s not busy,” Peter says. “He’s avoiding me.”

“Well, he beat the shit out of you, and he feels bad,” MJ says. 

Peter sighs. 

“I’d feel bad too,” MJ says, “even if I was mind controlled. It still sucks, I mean, when I saw him his knuckles were still all bruised. Just a constant reminder of what someone made him do.”

“You saw him?” Peter asks, looking at her.

She looks a little bit like she wants to take a back, but she nods. “Yeah, uh, earlier. When I got here, when I was talking to Pepper.”

“Did you talk to him?” Peter asks, as they turn around at the end of the hall. He’s trying to sound nonchalant and failing spectacularly.

“Not really,” MJ says, taking Peter’s hand. “He wouldn’t really even look at me, I can tell he—he’s just really guilty. He feels really bad.”

“Peter doesn’t want him to feel bad,” Ned says. 

“Yeah, but once you feel bad, you feel bad,” MJ says, “it’s not like it magically goes away because someone says that it should.”

“Maybe we can magic him,” Ned says. “Doctor Strange, you know. He could do that.”

“Yeah, let’s just hack into his mind again,” MJ says, widening her eyes at him. “I’m sure that’s the right course of action.”

Peter sighs again. “I don’t know what to do,” he says. “He could do this forever. And ever and ever.”

“Well, definitely as long as you’re all bruised up,” MJ says, reaching over with her free hand and brushing her thumb over Peter’s cheek. 

~

And two more days go by without seeing Tony, and it’s almost time for Peter and May to head back to their apartment, even though May said they could stay at the compound as long as he wanted to.

And Peter decides to do something.

“Friday is he still there?” Peter asks, making his way down to the workshop.

“Yes, Peter,” Friday says, in Peter’s ear.

“And you’re not lying to me?” Peter asks, rushing down the stairs, quick as he can with a bum leg.

“No, Peter,” Friday says. “I am not permitted to lie to you.”

Peter smiles to himself. He knows he still doesn’t look wonderful, but he looks a lot better than he did, and either way he can’t take this anymore. And he gets down to the workshop in what feels like record time and he scans in without trying to make a lot of noise, and when he opens the door he sees Tony at the back door as if he’s trying to escape.

“Stop!” Peter yells, his hands up. “Stop! Don’t leave!”

Tony whips around, his eyebrows furrowed. “Kid?” he says, already walking back over in his direction. “Are you okay?”

“No!” Peter says, a little more forcefully than he intended to. 

“What’s wrong?” Tony asks, gently, weaving around the work stations and reaching his side. 

“You’re ignoring me!” Peter says, and he sounds like a small, stupid child, but he doesn’t do anything to change that. “And I don’t like it.”

Tony’s face falls, and he nods, glancing away from him. “I’m not…ignoring you, I just—I felt like—”

“I know you feel bad,” Peter says, sucking in a big breath. “And I know me telling you not to feel bad doesn’t change the fact that you feel bad, but I seriously don’t want you to feel bad, because now this whole like—keeping yourself separate and out of my sight thing feels like you’re punishing me.”

“I’m not,” Tony says, fast. “I was just—”

“You don’t need to punish yourself either—”

“I wasn’t really…exactly…c’mere, come sit down—”

“I’m okay,” Peter says.

“I know, I know, I wanna sit,” Tony says, taking Peter’s arm and tugging him over to the closest workstation with two rolling chairs. They sit down, and they both sigh, and Tony keeps talking. “I was just, uh—I sent out messages to everyone involved at the gala explaining things a little bit, and I got everything rescheduled on my own, and I, uh—met up with the asshole at Riker’s and attacked him and nearly got arrested myself—”

Peter leans on the workstation, running his hands over his face. He can imagine that, and he doesn’t like it.

“—and I’ve been building some new security protocols, and working on another nano suit for you that’s a lot like my watch gauntlet that can—stay on your person, read your heart rate, come to you if you need it—but I’m trying to make sure it only comes in the correct instance, and not if you like, see a cute dog—”

Peter laughs a little bit, shaking his head at him.

Tony smiles softly. “But I’ve been doing all that, along with maybe, slightly punishing myself by—staying out of your way—”

“You’re not in my way,” Peter says, feeling a little bit too emotional, maybe. “You’re not. You never have been. Never will be.”

“You don’t know that—”

“Tony—”

“What I mean is…old man, long shadow, you know, I’ve been there—”

“You’re not your dad,” Peter says, shaking his head at him. “You’re a good—you’re a good father figure, you’re a…good father.”

Tony brightens up a little bit, and his nod almost looks like a question. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Peter says. “No matter what.”

Tony nods again, more solidly this time. “One more thing—”

“No more saying sorry,” Peter says, shaking his head. “You told me I can never say sorry again, well now, you can’t either so, how about—”

“Thank you,” Tony says, and Peter stops talking. “Thank you for—realizing that something was wrong, thank you for figuring it out, thank you for knocking me on my ass when I wasn’t me, thank you for—saving everybody and me too, in the process. Thank you, Pete, really. Thank you.”

Peter’s throat goes tight, and there are tears in his eyes, and he nods again. “You’re welcome,” he says, holding his chin high. “Any time.”

“And I’m sorry,” Tony says, fast, rolling forward and wrapping him up in a big hug. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Last time, I’m sorry. Okay I’m done. I’m so sorry. Okay I’m actually done.”

Peter snorts, hugging him too, burying his face in his shoulder. “No more mind control,” he says, letting the apologies drift into the air unanswered.

“Oh no, never again,” Tony says, rubbing Peter’s back. “And I figure, when you’re—when you’re tip top again, we can get into the ring, and I’ll feel better if you get a few good shots in, and I’ll forget about the whole thing if you break my nose—”

“No,” Peter says, shaking his head and still holding onto him. “I’m not doing that.”

“Too afraid to box an old man, huh?”

“My old man, maybe,” Peter says, feeling particularly sentimental.

And Tony laughs, in a rush of breath, and holds him reverently for a second. He pulls back, and pats Peter’s cheek. “We’ll see,” he says. “Might get Rhodey in there too, to make it fair—”

“He’ll probably take you up on that,” Peter says, getting to his feet. “Okay, lemme see the suit, remember I get last say in design decisions—”

“Oh, you aren’t going for bright yellow?” Tony asks, resting his hand on Peter’s shoulder as they head over to the main workstation. “You don’t like that?”

“Better than that time you tried to integrate green and made me look like a Christmas tree,” Peter says, grinning at him.

“Hey,” Tony says, typing in a few commands and bringing up the specs. “I thought that was very festive.”

And they start working, and Peter remembers feeling safe, before, when they were on the quinjet and his brain was still scrambled. But he feels like they’re on the other side of it now, for real. 

Safe. Really, truly safe.

[lostfirefly]

Heart of Courage

I had a very interesting dream tonight, kiddos. I woke up at 3 a.m and started writing it down.

My dreams are usually very vivid, often like films and I remember them very well. I'm not a writer, this story is my first attempt to write some kind of a fic. I wanted to post it on my page. I've edited the dream content a bit to make this more readable :)

Since English is not my native language, there may be mistakes. I apologise in advance :)

Feel free to share your thoughts.

Thanks to my friend @yujo-nishimura for giving me the confidence to post my dream here.

Thank you @laurasoretta for your kind words, prompts and support!

In my dream it was me and Buggy, but the story was transformed in the second person. I'm not sure about the title.

Ok, let's go, kiddos!

Main characters: OPLA Buggy the Clown and Fem!Reader.

Masterlist

No angst, smut etc. Possibly the presence of pirate language :)

The title is taken from the track "Heart of Courage" by Two Steps From Hell

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

You and Buggy were out for a walk, talking about different things. You were glad to finally have a day alone with your captain.

He took you to a beautiful, secluded place. It was a deserted beach surrounded by high cliffs where the waves lapped noisily.

-I told you I'd make time for the two of us, - he said, sitting down on the sand, pulling you closer to him.

-I never doubted you, my love, - you said, leaning your back against his chest and winding his blue hair around your finger.

Suddenly everything went black in your eyes..

You woke up in an unknown place, your hands were tied. You noticed some unknown men around. Pirates, of course.

When you I finally came to your senses, you saw Buggy lying on the floor. There was no doubt he'd been beaten up, his mouth covered in blood, his red nose was bleeding.

-Ooh, look, your little whore's awake, - you heard a man's voice.

-Dan, are you sure she is with him?, - а second man's voice came from round the corner.

-What are you talking about, Peters?, - the first man asked with surprise in his voice.

-Well... maybe she's just a one-night stand... you know.

-No, no, no, no, look at the way he's looking at her... What? is our boy worried about his whore?, - hissed the man.

Focusing your gaze, you finally caught a glimpse of the two men. Dan was short, a little overweight, missing his front teeth, his face completely covered with scars. His brown hair was all tangled up. He smelled like a garbage can. Yeah, hygiene was clearly not a priority for him. Peters, on the other hand, was tall and very thin. His white hair was braided.

-Shut your mouth, - you heard Buggy's voice.

-Ooh, look at that, Peters! Our clown's the protector! - he hissed, grabbing Buggy by the neck. Dan's eyes scanned the space between you and your captain, - Well, let's get back to our business. I heard your whore found some maps. Especially one that I reaaaally need.

-I don't know what are you talking about.., - you said.

-Yeah? Well, okay. I believe you. Peters, why don't we help her talk?

They started kicking Buggy again. Suddenly Dan came up to you and punched you hard in the face.

-If you touch her again, I will personally rip your head off, - Buggy said, coughing after the blows.

Dan started laughing.

-Sir, what if they're telling the truth?, - Peters asked with a dose of excitement.

-Jesus, Peters, are you stupid? Do you really think they're just going to come right out and say it? Of course not. Well, where are the maps?

-I don't even understand what you are talking about. If we had maps, you think we'd be here now? We'd probably be moving toward the Grand Line by now, leaving you suckers behind, - you said in a mocking tone.

-Dan, she annoys me. Can I hit her?, - Peters asked.

-No-no-no,.. - Dan tried to click his teeth, - I like her. She's got a temper. I love that.. That's okay. This little slut will be quick to tell all. Bring the water cube over here. I know that bastard ate the devil's fruit. Let's see what's more valuable to the little whore. The map or this idiot's life?

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

You regain consciousness and see Dan and Peters lowering Buggy into the water.

-So.. are we gonna talk or are you gonna watch your boyfriend die? - Dan hissed.

-Okay, okay, I'll tell you, - you said.

-Weeeeell.., - Dan asked, stabbing your neck.

-Fuck you, - you said.

You headbutted him, he dropped the knife in surprise. You tried to run towards the cube, but you got grabbed by your hair.

-Damn you, slut.., - Dan yelled, - Peters, we should give her a lesson.. You know, honey, my crew hasn't seen a woman in a long time....

-Don't touch me, you bastard! - you said.

-You hear that, Peters?, - Dan shrieked, - Damn, how'd that clown get himself such a hot filly?

Dan started running the knife down your pants and grabbing your hair. You were already thinking this is the end. Suddenly Peters, who was standing against the wall, fell down. You heard a noise on board. A headless body flew into the cabin.

Two members of your crew Yujo and Cabaji suddenly ran into the cabin. Yujo ran to you to untie your hands while you tried to get up and get to the cube.

-Cabaji, hurry up, break the cube! - you yelled.

Your hands were finally free of the ropes. Stumbling, you ran towards the cube to help Cabaji break the glass. Yujo were holding Dan in the meantime.

You and Cabaji finally broke the damn cube and free your captain. After a couple seconds, Buggy regained consciousness. You helped him up, quickly inspecting the bruises on his face. He slides you gently behind him with his hand.

-Hold on, pumpkin, - he said.

Buggy walked over to Dan. He was angry.

-Well, you took advantage of my weakness, I get that, - Buggy moved closer to Dan and grabbed him by the neck, - What I don't understand is this... What makes you think you and your bilge rat can touch my girlfriend?

-Oh, come on, clown, we were just having fun, - Dan said, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.

-Pumpkin, don't you think that's the wrong answer? - Buggy asked, turning to you.

You nodded approvingly.

-That's what I thought, - Buggy replied, a smirk appearing on his face.

He detached his hands and started choking Peters with one hand and Dan with the other.

-Yujo, darling, chop his arm off, - Buggy said, pointing at Dan.

-What? Are you crazy? What did I do? - there was panic in Dan's voice.

-I told you, you touched something that belongs to me.. - Buggy hissed through gritted teeth, - Yujo, as I said, chop his arm off.

-As you wish, - Yujo said and chopped off Dan's right hand.

Dan screamed in pain. Blood gradually poured onto the cabin floor.

-If you touch my girl again, I'll cut off the left arm, - Buggy clutched Dan tightly by the neck, then threw him to the floor with force.

Buggy walked over to Peters.

-Please, don't touch me! - cried Peters, lying in a corner.

-I don't give a shit about you, - said Buggy, giving a kick up Peters' ass.

Suddenly you fell to the floor and start sobbing.

Buggy came over to you, crouched down on his knees and hugged you.

- Heeey, calm down. I'm here, my love... - he started examining you, and you could hear the worry in his voice, - Did they?..

-No, no..., - you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Buggy helped you to get back on your feet, then hugged you tightly, kissing your forehead.

-Let's go home, pumpkin, - he whispered in your ear, - Cabaji, Yujo! Let's go back to the ship.

-Aye, captain!!

[redflagshipwriter]

Reassembly 6

Masterpost is here.

Peter woke up on the library sofa that he was beginning to think of as his and hefted his bag over his shoulder.

He was doing okay. Really, he was fine. Considering that he was a minor with no resources or adults to help him, his life wasn't so bad.

Last night he'd gone to the gym early and thought about washing his dirty clothes in the shower. He hadn't, but he figured he would have to eventually. He could wear everything at least twice before it was an issue, right?

He chewed on that thought on his way to get breakfast. Today's hotel buffet had boiled eggs, which was new and exciting hotel fare. He made buttery whole grain toast and tried to calculate how many calories he was probably getting on this breakfast buffet lifestyle. ….on the good buffet days 1000 per day, at least.

There was no chance that it was enough to fuel Spider-Man. He had whole fat milk and juice to bulk it up, instead of water, but he knew it really wasn't enough.

‘Maybe I should be going to two buffets per day. They'd notice if I took a day's worth of meals from any one place, but they're open for hours.’

This place was one of the ones that had little plastic tubs of peanut butter with the peel off lid. With a guilty look over at the inattentive desk worker, Peter pocketed a couple for a snack later in the day. The only other non-refrigerated thing that looked small enough to pocket were rolls, and there weren't a ton of those. He took one.

He still had most of the cash from the wallet, but the idea of spending it seemed like a bad one. He might need it a lot more in the future.

‘I should look into food banks?’ That seemed right. There'd been a time after Uncle Ben died that Aunt May had gotten help that way.

Hopefully not for long. Maybe that potential client would hire him today. And them-

….how would they pay him? Peter put his face in his hands and breathed into his fingers for a bit. He didn't have a bank account. Could he open a bank account using only his birth certificate? Probably not! He definitely needed to figure out the social security number thing. Fast.

Peter didn't cry but it was a close thing. It was just… it was all so overwhelming. Nothing was just easy. He couldn't even just work and get paid because there were a billion steps needed before you could get money you'd earned.

Grimly, he wondered if there was something else. There was probably a way to get paid under the table, same day. Manual labor? Some kind of bottom barrel criminal stuff like smuggling or whatever it was people did with drugs?

He wouldn't mind the manual labor, except that it would be a very big problem for his under-fueled metabolism. But he probably had to choose hunger over small time crime. Didn't he? Peter bit his lip and wondered what Aunt May would say. She'd never broken the law, he was pretty sure. But she was a huge proponent of children getting to eat. Maybe she'd forgive him.

That was probably all beside the point. Peter didn’t know how to do any of that. He couldn’t survive by doing crime if he tried. He was kind of relieved to dismiss the idea that way.

‘School really might be my way out,’ Peter thought longingly. ‘If I get a scholarship and housing, that’s a ton of my problems solved right there. I’d be able to get a legit job a lot easier with an address and maybe a student ID.’

That was a longer term plan, then. For now, he had to figure out how to eat until that panned out.

Unbidden, he remembered Kon’s unused kitchen and endless credit cards.

Peter instantly felt a deep well of shame. He wasn’t going to use Kon like that. He wasn’t befriending Kon to benefit. That would be majorly messed up.

He was really looking forward to their planned hangout today, though. He didn’t feel guilty at the thought that he’d probably get to eat there if he cooked. That was normal, that was the kind of thing that friends did. It would be weirder to invite him over and not eat together.

They hadn’t exactly picked a time. Peter figured he would kill time until the library opened at 10, check his email, maybe study a little, and then head over. He didn’t want to go over there so early that Kon fed him both lunch and dinner. It had been fine last time, but it would be tacky to orchestrate that on purpose.

Social Security numbers. Peter mentally reframed the day’s mission to that. He’d check the email, sure, but rather than studying coding he was going to figure out how to get a social security number.

Well. Two. One for his real name, and one for his office workersona.

Peter cleared out of the hotel lobby when he heard an employee start to move around in the office behind the desk. He went to another hotel, got a piece of toast, fruit, and coffee, and then killed time by walking around for a couple of hours.

He wound through the morning crowds with an easy grace and enjoyed the pretense that he was one of them, a regular guy headed to work or something. It felt good to be lost in a crowd and have absolutely no one look at him like he was sticking out. He was having a terrible time but honestly, for a homeless jobless teenager, he was doing a really good job. He didn’t look weird or smell bad, and he’d figured out at least a short term survival strategy and a long term plan that he was working towards.

Oh. Peter felt a twist in his gut. He didn’t stop walking but he felt guilty about it. He probably shouldn’t be mindlessly burning energy by walking around, not when he was eating maybe half of what an average human should eat per day. Mr. Stark had put his ideal intake around 3500 calories, more if he was active. He had a lot of muscle that he really didn’t want his body to cannibalize for fuel.

…There were still a couple hours until the library opened. Peter really, really wished he at least had a library card. If he’d been able to take out a book he could sit on a bench somewhere and kill time without looking too weird. He could even go to a diner and get like, a one dollar black coffee and hang out. Since this was a fantasy, he went ahead and mentally added a cinnamon roll to the imaginary order. Wow, luxury!

Peter laughed to himself. No one looked at him, because this was New York City and a kid laughing on the sidewalk was banal.

It was a weird little goal, but it made him smile. He’d fix his life. He’d have a legal identity, and a place to sleep, and be able to go to school and work. When he got to that point he’d be able to go to a restaurant and order a cinnamon roll and not worry about anything, except how he was going to get back to his universe or whatever. You know, just the normal concerns, not survival.

He killed time in a park, watching ducks bob around and groom each other. The sunshine did something for his mood. When he felt it had been long enough he went to the library and followed through on his plan. He didn’t have any emails yet, except a notification from the job site saying that employers were looking at his profile and he could see who, for a nominal fee!

Peter deleted the email, disgruntled. Seemed kinda predatory.

He went on to learn about the social security system. Apparently they were assigned randomly, and there were multiple physical addresses that issued cards. There were more of them than he’d expected. He found one in a 3rd floor address nearby that was open from 7am to 4 pm and figured out how to get there and what the building looked like. Then he did more reading, brow furrowed, trying to figure out what to do.

It might be more secure to make it look like he was an immigrant who got a social security number assigned as an adult. If he claimed to be from out of the country, then it would be harder to research where he supposedly came from.

On the other hand, he didn’t want to lose his identity as a New Yorker. That was important to him. Peter bit his lower lip and thought it over.

Actually. You didn’t have to be born in the states to be a real New Yorker. He made up imaginary back stories for both of his IDs. The worksona was a born citizen, because Peter didn’t think that was likely to get looked into much. Since that person didn’t really exist, he was going to abandon it as soon as he didn’t need it.

His real ID for the universe was going to be from overseas. He decided that he’d been born in… Moldova.

Peter took a moment to look up Moldova to be sure it still existed in this universe. It did, and it seemed about the same. No travel restrictions to the United States, but not much economic power. It was not a common place to come from, but that fit his purposes. He didn’t want someone to ask why he didn’t speak whatever his supposed native language was.

…Peter made a mental note to look up language resources. Even if he’d supposedly emigrated at a young age, it would be more convincing if he knew at least a little. And it would be a good way to spend some time.

Huh. That was an idea. He probably couldn’t take books out of the library, but he could get a notebook and a pencil for like, 2 dollars, and take notes here. Then he’d have something to study in the hours he was outside with nothing to do. He’d look a lot less weird just sitting around if he looked like a student.

He took a minute to look up their flag and a few trivia points. Then Peter called it good enough for now and started off towards Kon’s apartment.

It would be a lie to say that it was convenient. It could have been worse, but it was far enough that Peter would have used the subway if he had the money to spend.

…He made a note to look into subway hopping. That wasn’t a real crime. It shouldn’t cost anything to use public transportation, it was literally built for public use. But right now, on the way to see a friend, seemed like a bad time to possibly get held up for a misdemeanor.

So he walked. It took him 40 minutes to get to the apartment block. He ducked into a dollar store that he passed on the way to get the notebook and pencil he had decided on, feeling good about it. His stomach grumbled when he passed the cooler with sandwiches and drinks. He ignored it as best as he could and directed his gaze elsewhere. It was easier to be hungry when there wasn’t food nearby.

Peter knocked on the door with his knuckles.

The door opened before he could call out. Kon grinned down at him and then whooshed back to let him in.

“Thanks,” he said. “Have a good day so far?”

Kon shrugged. The light caught on the metal spikes on his jacket with the movement. He turned around and walked ahead of Peter. “I was out of town ‘til this morning, sleepover with some friends,” he said.

Somehow the sight of his absurd muscles peeking out the mesh window startled a cough out of Peter, even though he’d been there when Kon modified the jacket.

“How about you?”

Peter’s brain took a moment to come online. “Uh, I was at the library this morning,” he said. At the weird look Kon gave him, he shrugged self consciously and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m looking into college stuff,” he justified. That was really normal.

“...College, huh.” Now Kon looked uncomfortable. “You must be smart.”

Peter’s face burnt red. “In some ways,” he dodged. “Are you gonna go?”

Kon blinked at him. “I mean….” He gestured at himself with one hand. “I’m not exactly the type, am I?”

“Because you’re hot?” Peter asked, confused. What else was that gesture at his pecs supposed to illustrate?

They stared at each other. Then Kon broke out into snickers. “Because I’m not that smart,” Kon said, like it was a fact of life. “It’s just not for me.”

Kon was laughing, but Peter felt… he felt kind of angry, actually. “Who told you that?” he demanded. He curled his hands into fists in his pockets. “Why don’t you think you’re smart? Eff that. You could go to college. Maybe you should go with me,” he added impulsively. He could help Kon figure it out. Honestly, Kon probably needed help if his parents weren’t talking to him about school or a job.

“Where are you going?” Kon asked. He cocked his head to the side.

Ah. Well. “I’m not very far in the process yet, but I was thinking about Gotham U for engineering,” Peter admitted.

Kon started laughing for real. “Gotham,” he gasped. “Gotham? Me, in Gotham?”

Peter felt his shoulders hunch up. “They have a good program,” he said stiffly. He hadn’t thought Kon would laugh at him. His throat felt tight. He took a step backwards without thinking about it. Maybe this was a mistake.

Somehow Kon tuned into his mood even without looking. He held up a hand, flustered through the remnants of his snickers. “No– no, I mean, I have a friend in Gotham,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to bring that up as a possibility.”

Oh. The stiffness in his shoulders relaxed, just a bit.

“Maybe I should go,” Kon mused. “And surprise him. That would be really funny.”

Peter shrugged.

[foxes-that-run]

You don't have a post on I Just Wanna Love You. It was apparently recorded in 2019. I was reading the lyrics and they are very much haylor but I also think it could be about CR. The voicemail from cherry was added in 2019 right? So maybe they were talking again trying to be friends. I'd think TBSL is also about her but "i was just a little kid" makes it clear that it's about Taylor. This one feels haylor too. Idk.

I'm Not Happy is also very interesting. I wonder when it was written. It was recorded in 2016, I'm guessing the same session as Kiwi. But it has to be written a bit earlier like January 2016. They may have met in February and this song feels written when they weren't talking and he was daydreaming about her reaching out to him. Do you have a post on that?

To be so lonely

I have a detailed post on that here, it answers Ready for it…? With “Wasn’t ready for it all” so one of the clearest about Taylor on Fine Line.

I’m not happy

I have a post about it here, I think the fire it refers to is 26 February 2016, which would have it in the same session as Sweet Creature, the first session for HS1. That’s also a year and several days after they were last seen together.

I just wanna love you

I love this song and yeah I don’t have anything about it. The timing of it being recorded in 2019 and when it leaked 10 September 2023 is interesting. 10 September is close to one of the dates on Stevie’s poem, try honey was leaked too and Taylor posted the ‘damn Griff’ about vertigo, if the leaks were intentional they were going through it.

In the 2019 timeline also, Harry was pretty overt in his affections round May 20 with the Gucci swan campaign, playing on the beach in yellow shorts and a white horse t-shirt. He also wrote adore you, boyfriends and TPWK. I can see the similarities of this song and adore you. Adore you is kind of the less specific version of it in some ways.

He was also 25, as in Peter and the line “a week ago you said we’ve started running out of time”

This sounds like an ex-lover who’s in a relationship with someone else having an emotional affair with Harry. With Joe taking a step back at the end of 2019 and Harry and Taylor having the same missing days after Ed’s wedding… well…

Do you regret it? Talking to me late night. I'm getting heavy. You know what it feels like

And this screams of a Delicate reference “Is it cool that I said all that? / Is it chill that you're in my head?”

Shouldn't have said it / Tell me it don't feel alright

So to me it is about taylor also

[elliemarchetti]

The Gift

Since I had a lot of fun writing the fourth chapter of The Queen of the Quills - Jily Edition (it features Petunia's PoV!), I couldn't resist the temptation to reply, but this time with Sirius as narrator. A very James-is-a-fool-in-love centric piece for @jilymicrofics prompt 14.

Prompt: Hidden

Words: 865

Although he wasn't the most rational fellow in his group of friends, James had always been a logical person, perhaps with twisted thoughts, inclined to justify acts that otherwise would have seemed crazy, but at the moment he was evidently losing his mind. Sirius had been by his side through every stage of his relationship with Lily, he had supported him even when she seemed to hate him and want nothing to do with him, he had been the shoulder he cried on when anyone would’ve given up, and his wingman when the beautiful redhead had finally come out of her shell a bit and started throwing a few too many glances in the corridors to be by mistake, but he had never behaved like this. Maybe his girlfriend had put a love potion in his morning pumpkin juice, or a bludger hit him on the head during Quidditch practice, otherwise the only sensible explanation was a sudden mental illness. Maybe they should’ve gotten him admitted to St Mungo’s, or maybe asking Fleamont for advice on how to deal with his son’s sudden wavering in self-confidence was the best way to deal with it.

The drama started on a cloudy morning, right at the beginning of May, when he announced during breakfast that their one-year anniversary was approaching too quickly for his liking.

“What do you mean too quickly?” Remus had asked, so shocked he left his fork full of food suspended halfway between his plate and his mouth.

It was probably Sirius’ fault: he knew he should’ve never told him what he had learned from Marlene in the peace and carefreeness of post-coital limbo, especially information regarding the gift Lily bought for him well in advance for the imminent milestone, but when it came to James and his doe eyes, the look of an innocent puppy he showed off only when he needed to manipulate others to get what he wanted, Sirius was a weak man, and as always he had given in, revealing every word and asking him not to divulge how he had found out that indiscretion. And James, who never broke a promise, had kept everything to himself, including the insecurity that not being able to think of the perfect present was causing him, until he exploded.

“You don’t know for sure if you will like what she got you,” Peter had pointed out, but Sirius knew that even if Lily had chosen to give his friend a stone collected on the shores of the Great Lake he would’ve appreciated the gesture, finding a hidden, deeper meaning behind it, and it would become a paperweight, or a lucky amulet to keep in his pocket when he flew on his broom and juggled between treacherous Slytherins and ruthless Ravenclaws.

“Maybe I should just hide in the infirmary until the day it’s over,” James had sighed, but Sirius knew he wouldn’t do it just as much as he knew he could find something, he just wasn’t able to picture anything worthy of representing how he felt for her. When they talked about it the last time, truly talked, his best friend made a premise, which had something to do with being aware he was exaggerating and that they were still young for that kind of thoughts, but the sentence still ended with him stating he believed she was the one, the only person he could picture himself married to and the future mother of his children.

“She’s my other half,” he had said, “and I want to grow old with her. I can’t wait to introduce her to my parents, and I can’t be more grateful to you, Remus, and Peter for having welcomed her into out little group as a sister.”

Two weeks had now passed since that moment, the day of the scheduled visit to Hogsmeade, the last before the big day, had arrived, and Sirius was dragging a distressed James – truly an anguished soul, since he had even taken off his glasses to rub his eyes so hard he declared he could see starts dancing in his field of vision in plain day light – on the muddy road leading to the only all-wizarding village in Britain.

“I’d go for something light-hearted, to not scare her,” Sirius suggested, in a desperate attempt to stop his companion from ripping his hair out and eating his nails to the bone. Doubts were consuming him, and although he was probably aware that one day he would surely laugh at how stupid and childish he had been, at the moment they must’ve seemed well founded concerns worth losing sleep over.

“What about a bouquet of edible lilies made of her favourite candies?” he went on, half joking. “If we go to Honeydukes first, they might be ready before we have to leave.”

“Wouldn’t it be a rather cheesy way to say I want to eat her out?” James asked, seemingly pleased with the idea. Maybe his gift was going to be divided in two parts, both physical, albeit in different ways, and both capable of eliciting pleased, and annoying, since Sirius slept in the same room as James, sounds of delight from the Head Girl.

[super-rangers]

Hi Alex! Same anon from before with the peter parker question! there were so many parts of your newest chapter that I loved but there was one more section in particular that I wanted to ask about! I apologize in advance for being so long winded 😅 (by the way—I just wanted to formally say that the update was so heart-wrenchingly good and beautifully written and I was enamored with it and you can do no wrong)

In reference to this bit: “It doesn’t help that she can’t even say she would have changed her behavior if she had known back then. She knows herself. The knowledge would have just made her worse. She would have seen it as a victory, even though it would have still hurt somewhere under all her bravado.” As much of hard pill that was for Regina to swallow, I think it was almost equally as difficult to accept as a reader. I think a part of me always felt that although Regina had made it her mission to antagonize Janis, she would ease up if she ever realized she went too far? Like, that although we know now that it hurt her to hurt Janis, her ability to maintain her air of indifference was because she had distanced herself. She was detached from just how much Janis was suffering, didn’t have to see or experience it up close, so she was unaffected. But if she had known she crossed a line, it would have been her wake-up call, I guess? So to hear Regina admit herself that that may not have been the case…oof, definitely hurt a bit.

Which leads me to the thing that I’ve been thinking about—at the start of UIW, the bus accident was the catalyst for Regina’s reckoning and then the journey to better herself that followed. But in a world where, say, the bus incident never happened—do you think she would still end up where she is right now? How do you reckon it would happen? (I’m sorry, I know it’s such an open ended question but that part of the chapter made me think so much about timelines and how the sequence of events in our lives can really change the whole trajectory of them—like, if that information being made available to Regina then wouldn’t have been enough to stop her, is there anything else that would have? Or do you think the bus needed to happen? I feel like she was already kind of on her way there with the Burn Book fiasco and fallout of the Plastics, and I like to think Regina still would have found her way back to herself, it just maybe would have taken her a little longer—but it’s so interesting to consider other possibilities of how she would have gotten there.

Hello! First of all, never apologize for sending long messages, I really enjoy reading them! Second of all, thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it!!

Like most things in that chapter, I meant for it to hurt a bit 😅 I don’t want to waffle about it or go back and forth on my own decision to write that line, bc I wrote that section very intentionally, but I do want to say that you should take that declaration with a grain of salt. Part of the reason Regina thinks that way is because she is in the middle of a ‘I am the worst person in the world’ spiral. That’s not to say that she’s technically incorrect in her thinking there, but she believes the worst about herself in that moment. So maybe it wouldn’t have been as bad as she’s thinking, but her behavior probably still wouldn’t have been great.

But on to your main question (which is so interesting!),,,,I have no idea. It sucks to think that Regina needs to experience something life changing to become a better person, but. Maybe she does?? At least if we want her to change before the end of HS. Cause honestly, if the bus didn’t happen, I don’t think Regina would have changed until college probably.

Besides the dynamic change because of Cady, I don’t think Gretchen and Karen would have left Regina for that long. It might be awkward for a little while, but they’d go right back to being her minions. They went from following Regina to following Cady, and neither of them learned/changed much over the course of the movie imo. They might want to follow Cady and start being friends with Janis and Damian, but idk if that would last, especially if Regina was pressuring them to come back. (Sorry Gretchen and Karen 😬😬) That would let Regina maintain her own status quo for the rest of senior year. She wouldn't have a reason to change because, sure, her behavior caused a big to do at school and made her lose her friends for a little while, but then they'd come back and everything would be good again. Regina had solidly wormed her way into Gretchen's psyche (as seen in What's Wrong With Me) so it wouldn't take much for her to convince Gretchen to keep being her friend, and where Gretchen goes, Karen goes.

Being at college alone, though, that would knock Regina out of it, I think. Going from a big fish in a small pond to a small fish in a big pond and all that. I was going to say that she wouldn’t be able to bully anyone into being her friend but like...yeah she probably could. It would be more about her being away from home and in a new environment that would have her changing. A lot of maturing happens in college, and I think part of that maturation for Regina would be learning how to not be a shitty person lmao

But genuinely, I’m sticking mostly with my first answer – I have no real clue! But thanks to this question I will be thinking about it a lot 😂

[irondad-defensesquad]

Tony kneels in front of Peter, whose gaze is miserable.

“Hey,” the former beckons. “Is there anything that could help you feel better? Even a little? Can be anything at all.”

Peter shows that he’s thinking of an answer. For now he doesn’t look at Tony, but he slowly analyzes the environment around them. Peter is holding his own hands. Tony may find the slightly oversized sweater adorable in him, even if the kid isn’t looking so sharp right now.

“... my room,” the latter mumbles.

“Hm?”

Peter looks ashamed. “I hate how my room looks right now. It’s… bothering me so much.”

“We can fix that.”

The teen doesn’t look entirely motivated.

“I can tidy it up–”

“Mr. Stark, don’t.”

“I don’t mind, kid.”

“Yeah, but it’s my room, I should’ve cleaned it forever ago. That’s not on you.”

Tony’s smile might falter a bit. “Well, I can do what I want, and you can’t stop me,” he jokes.

That at least makes Peter smirk. “Yeah, sure.”

Tony helps get all the clothes thrown around, handing them to Peter so he knows where to put them. Tony then organizes his school material, and he can’t help but see the tiny doodles Peter drew of Iron Man and Spider-Man. Tony grins.

Finally, Peter picks the broom to remove most of the dust on the floor. He does it slowly. Tony handles his desk overall.

Peter suddenly stops moving.

Tony looks at him.

The boy drops the broom as he finally starts crying.

“Hey, hey…” Tony rushes to him. “It’s okay.”

“I’m so tired, Mr. Stark… I c-can’t–”

“Shh, it’s okay. You did great,” Tony guides him to bed. “You did great, Pete.”

“I’m sorry I’m…” Not good enough. I’m a mess. I’m a burden.

“It’s okay. It’s okay…” Tony repeats it as many times as he needs, whilst rubbing Peter’s back.

After many quiet sobs and sniffs, Peter shyly looks up.

“... Thanks,” he whispers.

Tony smiles sadly. “No prob, Bob. Now you rest, okay? I’m getting you a reward later.”

Peter chuckles. “What kind of reward?”

“A tasty one.”

“Does it involve ice cream?”

“Absolutely.”

“Awesome.”

Peter watches Tony get the broom and do the rest of the cleaning. His puppy eyes are still growing deep. He looks so small, especially in the sweater and the blanket. He looks huggable.

“... What?” Peter notices Tony staring at him every now and then.

“You. You’re impossibly cute.”

Peter frowns. “No, I’m not…”

“If you look at yourself in the mirror, you would want to cocoon yourself, too.”

Peter scoffs. “Maybe you got too much dust in your eyes.”

Tony smirks and finishes the job. He orders some Ben & Jerry’s – four only for Peter. He wanted the Avengers flavors.

Peter eats silently. Tony sticks with him. The TV is their only conversation.

The kid might not show the same appetite as a mutant teenage boy’s, but he does look a little better. His cheek is dirty with a few chocolate chips.

Tony snorts, taking a napkin. “You baby.”

Peter protests. “Hey…”

Except neither of them stop the action, and Tony is pretty careful with it.

They gaze at each other with full attention.

Until Tony squeezes Peter’s cheek.

“Mr. Stark!!!” The latter yells. “I’m gonna get ice cream on you!”

Tony hasn’t laughed this much in quite a while. Turns out he needed to cheer up, too.

[p-perkeys]

So for Hellverine -

It seems like Logan and Akihiro will interact soon and it seems like there’s some kinda fighting chance for Akihiro. I always add the disclaimer that I’m horrible at understanding things, so perhaps this is a false reassurance, I’m not sure.

Vibes are giving horror. The bit about Peter was… wow. Definitely angsty. Gut-wrenching to reread the previews of Akihiro being in pain and having no memories, but the last couple pages resolved that a little. He knew his name by the end and memories were described as looking through a fog.

It describes him as being “two” and having like a tug of war of him and the demon possessing him. Will be interesting to see if/how that resolves. This is certainly angsty. I don’t know if I don’t like it?? I don’t love it. It feels like a recycled story still. I’ll have to see what else happens. I want Akihiro to get a real story and not just a Logan-based story.

Things I’m reading into:

The beginning when it says something like “some people call him Daken, some call him Fang, but his name is Akihiro” and then he’s addressed throughout the rest of the book as Akihiro feels like some kind of nod to the various comments he’s made since X-Factor about only playing a role. His monikers are names of people he doesn’t really think he is, people he felt/feels he had to be, and Akihiro is who he really is. Maybe still discovering who Akihiro actually is??

I say again, I’m reading into that bit. I have no context to base this off of other than my brain went “hmm..”

Things Im confused about:

Second disclaimer: I have issues with grasping things sometimes. That said, is them going after specifically bad guys supposed to be Akihiro’s will or the demon’s? And - is Akihiro possessed as punishment for his previous crimes? I felt like that’s what I was reading but at the same time I didn’t know if I was misunderstanding. I even reread the first one and am still not really understanding. Open to help on that bit. Explain like you would to a child.

Overall I’m okay about it. I like that there’s some kind of gleam of hope for him being “him” soon, however, it feels sus that this would all be resolved so quickly, so I’m not feeling optimistic yet. I am eager to see if Logan hunts him down and how all that plays out. Logan was quick to slash up Peter, and Peter was not hurting his daughter. I wonder if that’s any kind of foreshadowing. Logan doesn’t have a great track record with helping his son out. 🥲

Final disclaimer that this is not an educational post, it is me typing out my thoughts 🥲 I have been wrong before, I don’t always understand everything, and I usually have to read a few times (and see other peoples takes) before all the pieces click together.

I will say ✨if I may✨ that in my current fic I wrote Akihiro as healing after being stitched together post dismemberment and that’s what happened in Hellverine (even tho canon was a good bit different) so, as a girl who’s chronically wrong about things, my humble brag is I guessed one thing right. Good job, me. Thanks!

But I still am annoyed that his stitches do not match with what was originally shown. But whatever. It’s fine.

So yeah.

What did you guys think?

[ursafootprints]

In the course of finally finishing my chapter commentaries for chapters 13 and 14 of you're not yet done, I rediscovered a deleted scene from chapter 10 and thought I would share it! A version of this did make it into chapter 10, but I ultimately decided that while this version is super cute, Tony wasn't actually at a point where he could admit the things he does here just yet.

But I didn't want Tony and Peter quasi-roleplaying their hypothetical friends-to-enemies-to-lovers AU to go to waste, so:

---

"Tony," Peter called softly, and he smiled and gestured teasingly to the forkful of eggs that Tony had been holding about an inch above his plate for the last minute, lost in thought. "Are they that bad?"

"Of course not, baby," Tony said, snapping to attention. "You know how eggs just get me all philosophical. 'Which came first,' et cetera."

Peter grinned and said, "Soft sciences, huh? Are you feeling okay?"

It was a real question, even though he'd couched it as a joke. Peter had a way of-- sensing, somehow, whether Tony had gone quiet because he was thinking about how to troubleshoot the latest snag in one of his projects or whether he was thinking about… more personal things, and he was never frustrated by Tony's lapses in attention either way, which was a novel experience.

"Soft sciences can be enriching in moderation," Tony said, and the subject change was on the tip of his tongue before he caught himself, because-- he was supposed to be honest, with Peter. Or so Iris said, anyway, and he was trying to do this right.

He poked at his breakfast, and didn't look at the way Peter's soft laugh brightened up his whole face, and he said, "I was thinking about you."

"While you were staring at your eggs?" Peter teased gently, but there was a little pinch of concern between his eyebrows, like he didn't know whether to be flattered or worried.

"I told you, eggs are inherently existential," Tony said, and he cleared his throat. "But no, uh. Just. How we fit together. And-- all the different ways we could have fit together."

Peter's expression softened, touched, and he repeated, "The different ways?"

It was too much, to say all of it. It was too early, too ridiculous that Tony was thinking like this so soon into things. That now that Tony had accepted it, he could hardly imagine a future where he wouldn't have fallen at least a little bit in love with Peter despite himself-- where he wouldn't have felt a wistful tug over watching Peter grow into the best version of himself as a hero and scientist and husband and father from afar, even if he never would have examined what that meant.

"Imagine," Tony said, pointing with his fork for emphasis. "You graduate with your PhD from MIT and start your own company. Parker Innovations? I don't know. Now we're business rivals, and we had a falling out five years earlier over-- probably me doing something stupid-- and you're outsmarting me at every turn."

"Tony," Peter protested, rolling his eyes, but he was grinning.

"You acquire SI, and I go to confront you dramatically in the rain," Tony continued, and Peter shook his head.

"Ms. Potts would keep SI running even if I somehow had a better R&D department," he pointed out, and Tony waved a hand as if to bat the thought away.

"I pissed her off too and now I'm back to being a terrible CEO. Anyway, I confront you and tell you, 'I'll never forgive you,' and you say, 'Why is that, Mr. Stark, I've won fair and square,'" Tony said, and Peter just smiled, waiting out the inevitable conclusion.

Tony clutched his chest dramatically and said, "'Because you may have stolen my company, but you've also stolen my heart,' I say--"

Peter blurted a laugh, and said, "What kind of movie are we in? Okay, so I say, 'That's all I ever wanted, Mr. Stark,’ because apparently I call you that again here--"

"And then we kiss, roll credits," Tony concluded.

He tried to ignore the beating of his heart when he ventured, "Or, y'know. Maybe you just… somehow make it to twenty-six without finding a different guy or gal to shack up with. And somehow still want to make a move to ask me out for-- well, not a drink, but dinner maybe-- and I somehow get my head out of my ass long enough to say yes. Maybe that."

And-- there it was. The absolute, fond vulnerability in Peter's expression that made it worth it for Tony to find a way to share his honest thoughts, that made it worth it to dig through all his humiliating baggage in therapy, that made it worth it to try, because--

Maybe sometimes talking about his feelings for Peter felt like he was shaving off one of the slimiest bits of his soul, all 'and here's the part of me that's in love with a teenager,' but Peter didn't look at him like that. Peter looked at him like his words were the most precious things in the whole world, and that made it worth it.

"You think you would have?" Peter asked quietly, touched.

"How could I not?" Tony answered, and he didn't play it as glib at all.

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #5

xxx you better pray i don’t get up this time around

“The window,” Nureyev says, veering left. 

“The window?” Juno repeats, not sure at all that he likes this plan. Very certain, in fact, that he does not. 

“The window!” Nureyev fires two shots at the glass, shattering it. “Bend your knees, Juno. Tuck and roll. Remember your training!” And then he disappears.

“What training!” Juno shouts, and then he’s falling, and flailing, and the ground is rushing toward him fasttoofast and he does as Peter says and bends his knees before he hits the ground and maybe he didn’t do it right because there’s the sound of something going snap and his vision goes white and for a moment all he can do is scream. And then he looks at his leg and he screams again.

xxx 

Nureyev is about to make an attempt at picking himself up off the ground when he hears a sickening crack, followed by a pair of screams from Juno that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his heart clench. He’s never heard his partner make a sound like that, not once. 

Not even in the tomb.

His pulse is racing as he scrambles to his feet and turns around. “Juno?” He closes the gap between himself and his partner in mere steps. He sees Juno’s face first, twisted in agony, eyes squeezed tightly shut. He sees Juno’s leg next, and has to turn away as his stomach does a backflip.

“My god.” He forces himself to take two deep breaths, regaining a bit of composure before he turns back to Juno and moves to his side, kneeling in the grass and not caring at all as the damp stuff presses into his bare knees. “Oh, Juno, my god,” he repeats under his breath, still not as composed as he’d like to be. “My-”

“-god,” Juno gasps, managing to look annoyed despite his obvious agony. “Yeah. Got it. It’s-it’s bad.”

“I think that may be a bit of an understatement, darling.” He tries to inject some humor into his voice and does a poor job of it as he grips Juno’s hand in his own.

He must have landed wrong. Very wrong, given that his bone, all jagged red and hints of white, is protruding from his shin. It’s bloody and it’s horrific and Nureyev honestly feels like vomiting, but that’s simply not an option. Instead he takes two deep breaths and pulls out his comm puts a finger to his ear as Juno lays whimpering and groaning and gasping beside him.

“Buddy, where are you now?” he says as soon as the comm crackles to life. 

The fear in his voice, the desperation, must be obvious because there’s a tinge of worry when she responds, “You okay, Pete?”

“We’ve got, um...a bit of a situation, here I’m afraid. Juno’s injured. His leg is broken.”

 “How did he manage that?”

It’s all my fault, he thinks, the thought making his chest go tight. Deep breath. “Can you get in closer, Buddy?” 

“...No. No, I’m sorry, Ransom. The anti-aircraft cannons would have us out of the sky before we landed. You’ll have to make your way to us. Is it bad?”

Nureyev almost laughs at the absurdity of the question, almost, except that Juno is in agony. The man’s hand goes limp in Nureyev’s at that moment, his pained noises quieting. Nureyev is concerned but not surprised to see that Juno has slipped out of consciousness. “Yes. It’s...It’s bad. What about Rita? Couldn’t she hack into them?”

“The computer’s on the fritz, dear, remember? There’s parts that need replacing.”

Nureyev lets out a string of curses under his breath. How could he have forgotten? 

“It’s just a little over a mile, Ransom. Do you think you can get him out?”

“I…” Nureyev shifts his gaze from Juno’s face to his leg and swallows back a bit of bile. “I’m looking at his bone, it’s…out in the open. I’m afraid to move him.”

“Vespa can talk you through stabilizing the injury. Or we can come to you on foot, but--”

“But it’ll take twice as long to get him back to the ship,” Nureyev finishes, heart sinking. “They’ll be coming for us. We don’t have that kind of time.” He closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh. “Tell me what to do.”

xxx 

Juno wakes up screaming. 

“I know, Juno, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. We’re almost there, darling. Just hold on for me. A little longer.” 

Nureyev is carrying Juno on his back, doing his absolute damndest to keep from jostling the man’s injured leg. But even with the improvised splint, Juno is still getting bumped around with every step.

“Ju-ju-stop! Stop, please! Please.” He breaks down into loud sobs. “Please. Fuck! Please, Nureyev, please.”

Nureyev finds himself biting back tears at the sound of his partner’s begging. 

“I can’t do that, darling. I’m so sorry. We must get you back to the ship so Vespa can do her work.”

Juno groans. “I hate you,” he mumbles.

He knows it’s the blood loss and the pain talking, but the words still send a shard of ice through Nureyev’s heart. He makes it a few more steps, and a few more shards puncture his ventricles, because he’s about to have to do something that he really doesn’t want to do.

Juno is slipping in his arms. 

“My love?” he says. 

Juno only grunts in reply.

“Darling, you’re going to want to brace yourself. I’m...I’m losing my grip on you and I’m afraid--I’m afraid I’m going to need to give you a boost.”

“Don’t.” The word comes out desperate and so very raw. “Nureyev, don’t!”

“Are you ready?”

“Don’t! Please, Peter please don’t do this please--”

Nureyev adjusts his hold on Juno, who barely manages to scream before going limp against Nureyev’s back. Nureyev steps a little faster, pushing himself to hurry, even just a little. His arms, especially his shoulders, are aching and his heart is hammering, his lungs burning, and he’s drenched in sweat. But it doesn’t matter because it’s Juno, stubborn, beautiful, infuriating, magnificent Juno, and Nureyev is going to fix this.

xxx 

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

The Hoax by happyaspie

No Archive Warnings Apply | Rated T | Chp. 1/? | No Powers AU, OOC May Parker, Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan, Ned Leeds. Warnings for Gaslighting and Emotional Manipulation.

Summary: Even after years of no evidence, Tony Stark refused to stop looking for his kidnapped son. Some people called it false hope, others called it fatherly love. But May Parker called it an opportunity.

“You and that kid share quite a few similarities, and the case has so little evidence. With your help, I really think we could use those things to our advantage.” Peter was dubious. “How, though?” he asked, his tone teetering toward sarcasm. It was a natural impulse that he couldn’t consistently avoid. No matter how hard he tried. “What do you want me to do? Knock on Tony Stark's front door and pretend to be Arno?” May said nothing as she stared at him from across the table. Initially, he didn’t understand. But as she elevated her eyebrows and tilted her head, it clicked. That was exactly what May wanted him to do.

[Exceprt Below the Cut]

Peter sat down at the kitchen table and twirled some spaghetti around his fork. Of all the things his Aunt May attempted to cook, pasta topped with a jar of tomato sauce and some cheap parmesan cheese was his favorite. He considered not mentioning his backpack had given up on him part way through the school day. He knew she’d be disappointed and didn't want to ruin the pleasant meal. However, no amount of pleasant conversation was going to make it any easier to get around his giant high school without a bag. He sighed nervously and glanced down at his plate. “I, uh, I need a new backpack,” he mumbled under his breath.

May brought her finger up to her ear and tapped it, her face one of disbelief. “Excuse me?” she questioned. “What was that?”

Peter swallowed hard and forced a smile. “I need a new backpack?” he repeated louder and with more clarity than before.

A huff of annoyance escaped May’s lips as she dropped her fork and crossed her arms over her chest. “I bought you one right at the beginning of the school year,” she replied.

“Yeah, but one of the seams ripped,” Peter attempted to defend, then pulled his lip between his teeth. May has asked him to quit the band, Academic Decathlon, and robotics club so he could get a part-time job. He’d easily complied, eager to contribute to the household income. Although he didn’t actually know how much he was actually helping. Each week he signed his check over to May, and she deposited it into her account. He never asked where it went after that. “If you would-” he began but quickly backtracked. “I mean, If I could just use a little bit of my paycheck from Delmar’s, maybe-”

“Peter. Sweetie,” May gently interjected. “You know that money is supposed to help us pay the bills. You don’t want to be the reason we can’t afford rent next month, do you?” she asked, her smile not quite meeting her eyes. “This neighborhood is expensive. Every little bit counts.”

“I don’t know. It’s a lot of books and stuff,” he unsurely replied. Even though his best friend was kind enough to allow him to use some of his locker space, Midtown was a specialized science and technology school. His schedule was rigorous and required a lot of materials. He wasn’t sure carrying everything around was all that reasonable.

“Don’t be selfish, Peter,” May mildly scolded. “There are only a few weeks of school left to go. You can get by with one of my reusable shopping bags until then.”

May was right. Peter knew she was right. There wasn't too much school left. Carrying his supplies around in a stupid cloth shopping bag wouldn’t kill him. Even if there were a handful of students who would never let him live it down. Starting with Flash Thompson. But he could handle that if it meant making things easier for his aunt. “Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s fine,” he swiftly agreed. He glanced at his half-eaten dinner and bit back a sigh. “May I be excused?”

[Continue Reading On AO3]

[ask-octomer-arthur]

There was a deafening silence between the two after Arthur finished telling his... and his brother's story. Toni not able to let a word out for what seemed an eternity.

"... So... that is all" finally Arthur broke the silence "Of course I recognized Peter the moment I saw it... but I knew he wouldn't know me- he was too young when... that, happened." he continued to look down, as if the fish or rocks under were very interesting.

Again the silence. It seemed Tino was really taking his time to process it... and really, he couldn't blame him.

"W-Wait a moment-" aftera couple more minutes, the older finally spoke "You- you two... went through all of that-!? And you... y-you have been all alone since then...?"

"Well... not alone-" Arthur sighed "A pair of shark mermen looked after me... there are another mers, and even kind humans that have made sure am alright and... well, have company" a little smile appeared on his face thinking about all of them "... I'm quite grateful they were there... I don't know what could've happened to me if they weren't."

"Oh, no no- I don't even want to think about it-" Tino put his hands over his face, trying to remove the awful image off his head "... w-when... when we found Peter...

Like that... all alone, hurt, so small... W-We knew we couldn't leave him there- we had to take him... M-Maybe if we had stayed and search a bit more- we could've found you? O-Or your brother, your mother- anyone-"

"Don't" Arthur had to stop him there "... Please don't feel guilty. You... you and Bewarld saved Peter, took him in and cared for him as yours... I could never be more thankful for doing that for us."

His smile turned a bit sadder though "I will admit, I... planned to take Peter back with me, whatever way it was... but now I realize I can't- you are his family now... n-not me..." he let out a shaky sigh, already starting to tear up "... I-I don't want to burst that happy bubble he's in- he doesn't deserve it... and if I have to keep this secret from him for a while more... then I accept it."

Tino stared at the boy infront of him surprised by his words. He was speechless once again, not sure of what to say...

So instead he reached for Arthur.

"... you are such a loving brother, Arthur... but also so selfless." He chuckled softly "It's very brave of you to come all this way- and then... give up the chance to take your brother with you..." He separated from the octopus and smiled warmly.

"I... may not agree fully on not telling Peter who you are right now, but, I will respect your decision. Be asured though- you are more than welcome here whenever you want to come, to stay... we will never deny you being with Peter, okay? I promise."

It was now Arthur's turn to stare back at Tino as he processed the words... which in the end did nothing but to make him smile widely, nodding "Y-Yes... understood- thank you... thank you so much"

"You have nothing to thank me for... We will talk with Bewarld later, alright? Now, have some food so you can go play outside for a bit before it gets dark."

He sounded so motherly saying that...

'It reminds me of her... can guess that's why Peter attached to him easily...'

"Yeah... yeah, I will..." And took a bite of his fish. The task was almost done, at last...