#peter parker is a precious being

[sincericida]

ANDREW GARFIELD with fans at the Superhero Comic Con San Antonio - day two

(X) (X)

"Me: Could you do the praying moment from "Silence"? Andrew: Sure. Because I am Japanese from Nagasaki." (Reimond1997 tt)

"Spider-boy! king of thieves! what’s a panini? // what a way to spend a day! truly. first comic con for him and i—he’s the best person, ever. the world does not deserve Andrew Garfield. feels really good knowing i hopefully made him feel a little extra loved this weekend. <3" (driveinitagain tt)

"I did! Caption: “When the camera pans to you at the Oscars unexpectedly” Andrew Garfield was lovely and so kind to recreate this. I tried! Lol" (CalebisLOST tt)

Amazing human being ❤️

[physical-manifestation-of-spite]

Genuinely distraught over Peter "Parker" Yang. This rough-n-tumble guy who, while physically intimidating, has a heart of gold. A working P.I. who was on a case and just happened to stumble into this drunkard in Jack's Bar, who seemed morose, who seemed like they needed help. And Parker helped him, easing him out of his shell, became his friend, and worked with him. He pulled Arthur Lester out of his self-hatred to help people, and in doing so, helped Arthur Lester himself.

He loved the guy. Brought him to his parents' house. ("They love you!") He's two thousand dollars deep in gambling debt and still bought his friend a piano because he knows he used to play. This man who sounds like he's inhaled more cigarette smoke than air wants Arthur to date his sister because it means they could be brothers. This man who tells Arthur that he's the brains of the operation, that once told him he was at bedrock, tells him to lighten up and not let the past drag him down. This man who knows Arthur doesn't like to be coddled, so he tells him what he needs to hear, but doesn't push too much.

This man who turned on the kettle to make tea for the two of them (how often did they do it? How often did they joke and laugh and start the day with a cup of tea before their first client?), who rushes to Arthur when he starts to shout, whose last words were, "Artie, breathe," who died trying to help his friend.

Parker Yang died from senseless violence from a being that did not yet have any humility or understanding of how precious life was, and Arthur followed him only a few seconds later.

[amorchai]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐌!𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓.

this is a repost from my old blog. original post was 6,989 notes.

pairing(s): tasm!peter parker x female!reader

words: 660

warnings/tags: established relationship, mentions of r fitting into tasm!peter’s shirt ( tried to make it inclusive as i’m plus size. )

peter was in a grumpy mood. it wasn’t usual that he was these days. not when he was practically renowned across the school for the mood change the second you showed up.

your poor boyfriend known for being so sappily in-love with you.

but he wasn’t able to see you this weekend. he caught a glimpse at your window after patrol both days, lightly knocking the glass while you slept in bed before giving up, not wanting to wake you.

plus his favourite t-shirt was missing. a simple band-tee that he likes to wear occasionally and thought he had left it out to wear for school, only to realise it’s missing, aunt may assuring him it’s not in the laundry basket.

his head is glued to the floor when he walks to his locker, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose while he holds his skateboard under one arm. no glances in anyone’s directions, just wanting to collect his things for first period and go to the class.

yet, peter’s plans are ruined when two hands slide over the expanse of his back, squeezing his shoulders and a small but immediate happy smile tugs upon peter’s lips knowingly. “hey, baby. missed you so much—” he cuts himself off, after turning around to press his lips to yours does he immediately notice the outfit you adorn.

your smile is so bright, enough to make peter’s knees buckle, and there’s a shine in your eye when you greet your boyfriend. your arms instinctively move around his neck while his encircle your waist to pull you close, skateboard hitting the floor, uncaring of the people walking past the hall.

peter’s smile widens, a small noise escaping him as he gapes, “are you wearing my shirt?” it’s the very shirt that he had been looking for, over a long-sleeved top to almost match his own style. and god, you looked so much better in it.

“… is that okay? i thought you wouldn’t mind.” you look down at your attire, smile falling briefly. to which your boyfriend immediately perks up, squeezing your frame before his instincts stop him from pressing too hard, “no! don’t mind, don’t mind at all, baby, no.”

you can’t help giggling at his nature, rambled and flustered as he leans closer to you. warm, wanting more of you, closer. “in fact, you should keep it. looks so much better on you,” with this he kisses you, prolonged and sweet in a wordless i-missed-you way.

your breath wavers after you both pull away, leaning further into his side as peter turns to grab more of his things out the locker. you stare up at him admiringly, “you didn’t drop by after patrol, pete?”.

he glances back down at you, another quipped smile while his lips catch yours briefly, your teeth tearing from your lower lip while you respond. “you were sleeping, baby. i tried,” peter whispers after pulling away, hand caressing your stolen-shirt covered back affectionately while nudging his locker closed and bending down to pick up his skate.

“you watched me sleep? creep.” you tease, smile never faltering as you talk to peter. “sure did, cute thing. you cuddle your pillow when i’m not beside you, y’know?” you just hum as he guides you away, your shoulder bag bumping his hip but peter refuses to remove himself from your side.

“you should really leave your window unlocked, by the way,” peter continues, glancing at one another while you fiddle with the hem of his navy-blue top, “what if someone climbs in?” you ask. “you live twenty stories up, honey, no one but me can sneak in. and if they did, they have a crime-fighting spider who loves his girlfriend to deal with.”

“you’re so cheesy,” you giggle endearingly at your precious peter while leaning up to kiss his cheek, noting that tonight you won’t lock your window in hopes spider-man drops by and replaces your pillow for cuddles.

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[m00ngirl777]

Priceless

Peter Parker x Reader

kiss number...11

Your scent hit him first, as he opened the door the smell of your perfume intoxicated him, as he crouched to get in the car, already in a haze from how good you smelled he looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. 

summary: Going to an auction, you invite Peter and may, happy tags along, steamy ride back home, peter eats yout on the foyer and smells your perfume in the back of your knees, making him almost cum in his pants, because i have free will to write mfffff

A/N: there's a recurring theme lately, I apologize, I neeeeeddd d, so sorry, this picture of tom haunts me, lieterally think about it in the middle of the night, its my paralysis demon, anyways hope you love it, thxx for reading, love u, byeeee. xoxo. -N.

p.s. my requests are open my loves<333 for Peter only *biting my lip*

tw: SMUT, RAW, FROM BEHIND, PUSSY EATING, alcohol, food, mocking art?

wc: 4079

_ _ _

Happy, opened the door for you to get in the sleek, black car, after twenty something minutes of driving, Happy stopped the car and got out to help May in the passenger’s seat, while Peter got in the back with you. 

Your scent hit him first, as he opened the door the smell of your perfume intoxicated him, as he crouched to get in the car, already in a haze from how good you smelled he looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. 

“You look… gorgeous,” He sat down and closed the car door, he couldn’t stop his eyes from wondering.

“You look very handsome too, Peter,” You gave him a little smile, “ready?”

“Y-yeah,” he blushed lightly at your compliment.

You drove back to Manhattan, specifically to the annual auction at the Gagosian Gallery, in Chelsea, you were attending on behalf of Stark Industries and your father, as always Happy tagged along, in active bodyguard duty of course, this time you decided to have Peter be your plus one, and somehow convinced May to be Happy’s. 

At the arrival, you were helped outside, headed inside the gallery, a glass of champagne in one hand, the other wrapped around Peter’s arm, by the time you were being shown to your seats. 

“You really do look, so, so perfect, baby,” Peter was sat right next to you, Happy and May in their own little bubble, he leaned closer so only you could hear, he placed a hand on your thigh, while you looked at the itinerary of the night.

“And you look very, very good too,” You turned your head to him, your lips a breath away, you closed your eyes and leaned in to press an innocent kiss, as you pulled away, he didn’t let his hand leave your thigh.

“So, according to this little thing,” you waved around the printed out itinerary slash menu you held, “first there’s gonna be a little speech from the owner of the gallery, to open the event, then there will be open bar and refreshments, before starting with the five room auction, after that, it’s dinner, which will be a lovely…oh…it’s kind of a pick one from each menu… oh…I think I’m gonna get theeee…okay, the smoked salmon and cream cheese bites…the…galloway fillet…and the lemon tart…yesss…what about you?” You turned to look at him, leaning slightly towards him.

“I trust your taste, same thing” He did trust you, but it seemed harder to figure out what burrata or sea bass with swiss chard meant, or if he’d even like it. 

“Okay, I’m gonna let you copy me, but you have to order the raspberry tart for dessert instead, cuz I wanna try both…” He could only think of one thing he wanted to taste right now, and so very slowly trailed his hand further up underneath the table, pressing it into your upper thigh.

“Of course,” He said, as your breath hitched slightly.

~

“It’s so good baby… try it…” You grabbed a little spoonful and offered it to Peter, now your hand on his thigh, which he gladly took. 

“Mhm… want to try mine?” He said, also grabbing a small spoonful trying to get some of the piece of the tart to offer it to you, you took the bite, and relished on the difference. You shared your desserts, and as they came to an end you felt the fullness, drunkenness, and tiredness take over you, as you savored the last bite of your tart, you dropped the spoon on the table and leaned on Peter, hand squeezing softly and trailing up.

“Happy!...I wanna go home!” You said, and closed your eyes as he gave you a nod and stood up, presumably to get the car, leaving May to look at the very interesting table cloth as you nuzzled into Peter’s shoulder, and he snickered at you. 

“Princess’ tired?” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

“And drunk,” You said, leaning into his touch, “wanna get out of here, so bad,” you lifted your head and further closed the space between you, your lips connecting to the tender skin on Peter’s neck, half of your hand covering his crotch. 

“Got the car, boss!” Peter jumped at the voice, and scrambled to stand up and guide you out, after graving your coat, bag in hand, he walked you to the car, and made sure you were sitting, seatbelt and all, before walking to the other side to get settled in himself. 

Peter sat down and took a moment to admire you, the light reflecting on the sparkly cloth wrapped around your body, the flush on your face and the gloss on your eyes from the alcohol in your system, the soft curl in your hair, and the silky look of your lips. 

Seeing you in the dress, in this state, was torture, as was the whole ride back.  

The pair in the front seats making conversation about the pieces, May always being able to appreciate art, Happy trying chip in to his best understanding, very light, very casual, contrast to the thick and stiff air in the back. 

Peter’s feet firmly pressed down on the floor, resting his back on the leather seat, hands intertwined covering his crotch, head leaning slightly back and to the side, his eyes pleading for you to finally get home or for you to at least stop the wondering hand on his thigh, resting there lightly, something would pull in his lower tummy every time it would drag back up a little to close to his concealed growing bulge, you looked out the window, admiring the rarely empty streets of the city, how everything lit up, making a scene to watch, carelessly continuing the movements of your hand, squeezing his thigh every now and then.

All he could do was just thank that they had finally arrived at the apartment building May and he lived in, although this night was gonna be spent somewhere else

“Aren’t you gonna help May up?” I turned with a small smirk to Peter, he matched his look to that of a deer in headlights. 

“It’s alright sweetie, Peter gets so distracted around you,” she replied before he could open his mouth to answer, and opened her car door, Peter let out a shaky goodnight and love you, before she walked out. 

“I’ll  walk you up!” Happy said, hurriedly stepping out of the car, you could see the soft smile on Mays lips, lightly shaking her head.

As they disappeared into the building, Peter let out a breath, relaxing a little bit into this situation he found himself in, that you put him in, wearing that dress, smelling like that, how he got a whiff of the expensive perfume mixed with you every time you tossed your pretty shiny hair, all dolled up, he wanted to believe that all for him, your soft caresses, how he felt like you were provoking and ignoring him all night long looking like you did, poor Peter couldn’t catch a breath, truth is he stood no chance against the little games you loved to play, and specially not when as soon as you had no sight of the older’s attempt at romance you made your hand travel further than it had all ride long to rest on Peters semi hard, massaging it into a full one, still just looking out the window. 

“Baby,” Peter rested one of his own hands on top of yours and the other gripped his own thigh, you felt as his cock fully hardened, making his pants impossibly tight, the moment was short but bitter, considering how hard it was to swallow down, as Happy walked out of the building, and you let your hand drag away and back to his thigh, now firmly resting there, you could almost see the small pleasure turned torment on his face, instead you kept looking at the window as you headed back to Manhattan, towards Park Avenue, Peter trying to breath and not lose it with every bump on the road, where his own hands rubbed against him, thanking that Happy was not a chatty person by nature. 

“This is your stop, kid” Happy said looking at you through the rear view mirror.

“Thanks Hap,” You said, unbuckling your seat, Peter said a quick thank you and bolted out of the car, walking to the other side to open your door, hand half-heartedly covering his outline, “drive safe home, bye,” you said, and grabbed Peters held out hand to pull yourself out, steadying yourself and walking to the towers entrance, Peters free hand finding your waist, gripping tight, you holding on to his arm in return.

You muttered a good night to the door man as you walked through the door he opened for you, and to the security guards, one on the front desk and the other clicking the button of the elevator up, the empty elevator opened it’s doors immediately, you and Peter walked in, he counted the seconds as the elevator doors closed so he could finally slam you against it, you were bracing yourself for impact.

“Hey, wait for me!” Happy, the guard clicked the elevator open and Happy got in with you, an envelope in hand, “gotta leave this at your dad’s workshop,” he smiled awkwardly.

You could almost hear Peter cursing out, you felt as the elevator rose up, all the way to the 78th floor, the workshop, Happy got off, you both smiled at him goodbye, before urging the door closed, finally you were alone, and finally Peter with both hands to your waist, pushed you against the doors, and his lips against yours, hungry and needy, feeling your upper half up, one of your hands was still holding your purse, the other on his neck, gripping the collar of his dress shirt. The elevator dinged, Peter pulled you to him and off the doors, allowing them to open on your floor, you were welcomed by the familiar smell of the candles you always left on around the place, lips still working on yours, Peter walked you out of the elevator in the foyer, the art hanging round the walls almost guiding you to the where the actual entrance of the apartment was, the golden glow of the chandelier hanging right in the middle, above the classic wooden table with a flower arrangement, now pressing your ass into the edge of it, his front pressing against you almost matching that hardness, if it wasn’t for the heat and pulse it had.

Peter’s kisses traveled to your neck, tasting your perfume and your skin combined, not caring for the powdery dry aftertaste it left, knowing soon he would be tasting something else, as he kissed your exposed collar and shoulders he felt your body around, the perfect curve of your waist, trailing a hand down, finding the slit at the back of your dress, on of your legs completely out of it, he grabbed your thigh and pulled the leg up, further pressing himself to you, your dress riding up, the way he dragged you down leveled the few inch you already had above him and the inch your heels gave you, his hand moved from the back of your thigh to your newly exposed ass cheek, that’s when he realized you had no underwear, making him whimper slightly into the kiss, the innocent like cry contrast to the very rough movements of his hand and mouth, biting into your sweet spots then licking to soothe, hand kneading the tenderness of your meaty thighs. 

Softly he let go of your body and pulled away from the kiss, his hands gently squeezing your shoulders than dragging all the way to your hands, he brought them to his lips, and placed kisses to your knuckles, eyes closed, body still pressed against yours. You let one of your hands cup his face he leaned into it, kissed your palm, nose pressed against your pulse point, breathing in your perfume again.

He couldn’t fully understand the concept of spending hundredths of thousands on ugly art, that had no price tag, essentially priceless, where you had to come up with how much to pay, playing tug with whoever thinks the piece is worth more, just because they are one of a kind, specially when he could press his face against your perfumed body, that’s what was truly priceless, and still he would give everything he has and more to always have you at reach to do so, fighting anyone, offering his last breath if it would allow it.

“You smell amazing, baby, I can’t with you, all night I could smell your perfume, mixed with you, driving me crazy, with no fucking panties, you can’t do that to me,” he nuzzled into your hand holding on to the other

“What are you gonna do about it?” You challenged him, seeing if you could simmer out a more dominant side of him for tonights round.

“I just want to make you feel good, baby,” not what you expected, but you were gonna take his pretty words in that quiet tone, and make the most of them. 

“You do?”

“Mhm,” your hand pressed to his face, his own above yours, he pulled it away, intertwined your fingers, opened your arm out slightly and brought the pulse point in your wrist to his mouth, kissing it deeply, before dragging his nose from there to the next pulse point on the inner part of your elbow, letting both your hands fall to your sides, again he put his hands on your hips, pulled you in for a soft kiss, then pushed you away to turn you around, another kiss to the crook of your neck then he whispered in your ear.

“Please, bend forward, baby,” you thought he was gonna take the dress off, taking you a little bit by surprise, just processing what he might of cooked up in his mind while you did him like you did in the car, “I don’t want to say it again, bend,” his tone was so loving, you almost didn’t notice the harshness of his words, that told you he did remember your little number at the auction and the car, but two can play that game.

“Like this, baby?” You gripped the edge of the table, and bent yourself forward, your weight on your forearms, keeping you inches away from the hard wood, not wanting to give him reasons to torture you too much. 

“Just lay on the table, s’ not that hard” he leaned forward, his crotch pressed against your ass, he grabbed both your hands and pulled them back, causing you to lay flat against the table, chest and face pressed with your weight, he rested your hands on your back as he pulled himself upright again, “keep your hands there, doll,” you loved it when he called you that, he usually reserved it for moments like this.

The slit in your dress only went up to your mid thighs, so he bunched it up and lifted it all the way to were your hands were, “baby, help me out with this, just hold on to it okay? Don’t let it fall,” you replied with a shaky okay, feeling dangerously overwhelmed by this rare side of him, that liked to give instructions and for things to be done his way. 

Face slammed to the table, torso parallel to the floor, pussy exposed, you heard shuffling as he, you assumed, got in his knees, hands dragging from your ass, to the straps of your heels wrapped around you, he let his hands linger there, alternating between rubbing your sore ankles and calfs, caughting you completely off guard when he leaned in and placed a slurping kiss to your entrance, making you tense but also try to open your self up for more, a choked gasp in your throat. He repeated that a couple times, then he pressed his lips against the same spot, moving them in tandem with how he dipped his tongue in your hole, deeper and deeper every time, making you lean back and press yourself further, white knuckle grip on the fabric bunched up around the middle of your ass, mouth open, letting out strangled moans in between quiet gasps, he hummed against your pussy, at the feeling, at the taste, at your sounds, his cock more than likely leaking already. His hands left your calves and went up to your thighs, gripping them pulling them further apart and back, he made himself smaller and craned his neck up, lips and tongue meeting your clit, making you cry out his name, and accidentally letting the dress fall on his face when you slammed your hands against the table at the sensation. 

“Fuck, one thing I asked you, baby, one fucking thing” he pulled away from your pussy, making you whine.

“S-shit, Peter, I’m sorry, baby, I’m so-so sorry, please don’t stop…p-please, please, baby” you tried to grab the dress again, pulling at it to bring it up again, he helped you pull it up further, now resting around your hips.

“It’s okay, baby, just listen to me” he rubbed your hips, then ass, connecting his mouth to your rosy mauve nub again, you whined but now in pleasure, even if he tried to delve into this more dominant more demanding side of him, the thought of going to far, to actually berate and belittle, even deny you, simply hurt his heart, he couldn’t do it, giving in to you at any sign of discomfort you showed, he still wasn’t very familiar with balancing the sharpness of his demands and reprehensions by showering you with praises and calling you a good girl, to soften them up, instead he mixed firmness with sweet pet names, always letting up before getting too into it. 

“So good, baby, you’re so good to me,” that’s why you loved to reassure him a little extra hard when he tried things like this, making sure he got the confidence to get a little more rough and demanding with you, not unlike how you could be from time to time, your boy had to learn it from somewhere. You felt a soft hum against your pussy lips, now knowing better than to let the feeling come over you again, you gripped the dress wishing it was his hair, hoping this way he would make you come soon instead. 

Peter’s hands circled around your thighs, squeezing them, he would suck your clit softly, then lap at it with his tongue, every few laps a suck, driving you closer and closer to the edge, as the one of the table digged into your tummy.

Feeling like his dick would explode at any second if it was kept ignored, Peter decided to speed things up, stopping the back and forth and deciding on lapping firmly with a strong tongue, repeatedly, you felt pulses of pleasure from your pearl to the rest of your body, he pushed his thumb in your entrance, wiggling it as deep as it went, letting out throaty whines and moans as you finally came hard, clenching around his thick finger. 

“Fuck, Peter, that was so good baby…” You said breathless, he kissed your mound one more time before lifting himself back up and undoing his pants, and in that same position, he grabbed your hips and with no hesitation rubbed himself back and forth against your pussy and hissed at the feeling, little gasps leaving your mouth from the slight overstimulation. 

“Peter!” You shrieked out. 

“Fuck…baby, is this what you wanted? This is how you want me to be with you? Because you can’t fucking behave at the event…or in the car…you’re so wet, it turns you on to be a brat,” You wanted to scream everytime his shaft rubbed your nub, but you only cried for more, for him to fuck you, and use your pussy to teach you a lesson. 

“Aagh…yeess… yeass baby…f-fuck…Peter please, please, baby,” You pushed back into him, needing to fill him inside of you. 

With one hand on your ass, the other grabbing your wrists he slipped into you, moaning, you crying, he didn’t spare a second, he felt absolutely no resistance and slammed in, then out completely, waited a few seconds and repeated it, he wasn’t just teasing you, he was teasing himself. 

“Peter���ah…baby!” 

“You wanna be fucked, baby?” He repeated the motion. 

“Ah! Yes! Yes!” With that Peter pumped in and out of you, snapping his hips, probably only moving and inch in and out of you, enough to make you gasp for him. You moaned like you were being paid for it. 

“You like it when I’m rough?” 

“Yes!” 

“You like it when I fuck you?” 

“Uugh…y-yes!”

“Fuck baby…fuck y/n,”

Peter felt like he was going to burst, the fingers on your ass went down to your clit, rubbing with the pressure needed to make you come, making you trash in vain, crying out for him.

“Shh, baby… shhh, it’s okay…come for me, shhh, baby,” It reminded you of everytime you were ever like this with peter, torturing him while talking like honey, what a great revenge to use what you’ve unknowingly taught him against you, that feeling of knowing exactly how you made him feel, exactly like you wanted him to feel, enough for him to know how to do it to you made you split, shake, and scream as you came around his dick. 

“That’s it…f-fuck… good girl…good girl…good fucking girl… tight fucking pussy… I love you…god…uugghh…uh..uh…” he came with you, “ah…baby…y/n, I love you…”

He gripped the table, trying to catch his breath, your entire body cramped in the after math of this.

“You okay? Baby?” He said, very gently slipping out of you, making you whine softly, “come here,” He helped you up and into his arms, holding you, kissing your cheek repeatedly. 

He swayed you across your living area to your bedroom, taking you to the bathroom, he unzipped the dress and took it of you before going to sit you in a short stool near the bath, he turned the water on and pushed the plug for it to fill, poured scented salts and body wash for bubbles, he knelt in front of your naked form and undid the straps of your heels, kissing each ankle once he took them off. 

“I need to pee,” You said quietly, he helped you to the toilet while he undressed himself completely, then helped you in the tub, getting in behind you, hugging you too him.

“Are you alright, y/n?” He asked, massaging your calf. 

“Yeah, baby…just tired,” He started to feel a little bad for how rough he’d been. 

“You sure?” 

“I promise baby,” You turned your body, hugging him, closing your eyes, “it was great…you made me feel so, so good,”

“I did?” he said, cupping your face, you cupped his hand.

“Baby, you were so good,” you said, and placed a kiss on the inside of his wrist.

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely!! I hope you’re having a superbly wonderful week so far! I’m absolutely obsessed with all your whimsical!reader works, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to write another with tasm!Peter? I just love the dynamic of someone as scientifically minded as him with someone more celestial-oriented and he never makes her feel dumb or silly or anything and supports her ugh they’re precious <3 you’re precious too <3

Thank you for requesting angel! You're the most precious <3

tasm!Peter Parker x whimsical!reader ♡ 539 words

“This is your life line.” The touch of your fingertip is light enough to tickle. Peter shivers, but you’re too focused to notice. “It doesn’t have any breaks in it, which means you’re dependable and you have strong, healthy genes.” 

Peter hums. “Do you think it’s accounting for the spider genes, or just mine?” 

You nod. “I think you had good genes before that, but it may have gotten deeper over time.” 

“Yeah?” Peter doesn’t doubt that the lines on his palm have changed over time. He thinks it’s for different reasons than you do, but that’s okay. 

“Mhm.” 

“Show me another one.” 

You smile, and it feels like sunlight shining down on his palm. “I was going to. You’re in such a rush.” 

“Well, I’m learning about my fate and everything.” He bumps the top of your head with his nose. “It’s urgent stuff.” 

“This,” your index finger tickles across the top of his palm, “is your heart line.” 

Peter peers at it. “It’s short.” 

“That’s okay. It’s going towards your middle finger, which means you’re passionate. That seems right.” 

“Does it?” 

You hear the smile in Peter’s voice and look up to give him one of your own. “I think so,” you say in that soft, easy way of yours. “You’re very romantic. And see, it breaks into two at the end, which means you put others before yourself. That sounds a lot like you.” 

Peter admires your concentration. Your lashes screen your eyes as you inspect his palm, your features relaxed but lips still curved with the echo of a smile. 

“It’s mostly straight,” you muse, “which I think indicates that you’re content in your relationships.” 

“You don’t say,” Peter hums. “I wonder why that might be.” 

You laugh as he grabs you around the middle, pulling you close and planting a firm kiss on the top of your head. 

“I don’t need my hand to tell me I’m happy, you weirdo.” 

“I’m just telling you what it says,” you defend yourself. 

“Let me see yours.” He sits you between his thighs, leaning over your shoulder. 

“You won’t know what it means, though.” 

“You can tell me. C’mon, gimme. ‘Nless you have something to hide, huh?” 

You relinquish your hand to him, letting him smooth his thumbs over the canvas of your palm. You lean your head into his. 

“Oh,” says Peter. “Hmm. I see. This is very good.” 

“Peter.” Your voice is warm with fondness. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I know it’s pretty. It’s a very, very nice line.” He brings it to his lips. “It probably says something about you being sweet, and romantic, and having an okay-looking boyfriend who loves you a lot.” 

You turn your face towards him, your nose to his cheek. “Those aren’t the sorts of things it tells you. And you’re more than okay-looking.” 

“Pretty sure I’m reading it loud and clear, sweetheart. You sure you’re the one who knows how to do this?” 

“I think so,” you say. Your lips part contentedly when Peter finds them with his own, soft and pliant to his touch. 

“Guess I just have natural instincts for it, then.” 

It’s his favorite feeling, your smile blooming against his. “Maybe so.” 

[ynscrazylife]

You know what I really miss? Avengers x teen!reader headcanons, there use to be so much avengers content and practically dominated tumblr🥲

It would totally make my WEEK if you would make some classic mcu avengers(before infinity war) x teen!reader x Peter Parker(romantic) headcanons just about reader having powers and what it’s like living with the avengers 💕

-possible your new 👾anon?

let’s do this 💪 and YES you’ll be my first emoji anon!! @ anyone else, feel free to claim ur emoji!!

avengers x teen!reader headcanons

The Avengers are definitely reluctant to add another teenager to the team. Having Peter is great but has been a big adjustment, as they had to train him and protect him, less they face the wrath of Aunt May.

However, you were a compelling case, with your extensive abilities. You didn’t have many other options as to where to go and you hit it off with Peter right off the bat, working very well together as a pair. So, they took you in.

Tony worked with you on designs for your suit, Natasha and Steve trained you in combat (which meant you were going on morning runs with Steve and Sam. How fun . . . Though Sam could be convinced to give you piggy back rides, and you became Clint’s personal arrow-picker-upper. If you had powers, Wanda would definitely help you manage them.

Peter was naturally in tune to science, which meant you hung around the lab with him and Bruce a lot. It became a nice time to get your homework done, as Bruce would definitely help you with that. Sometimes you acted as Bruce’s and Peter’s assistant with their experiments.

Bruce was also a very good listener and your go-to person to vent to about your life’s problems (when Peter wasn’t around).

One of the conditions to be on the team was that you didn’t lapse in schoolwork, so they were very on top of that and your grades. Tony even offered to go to parent-teacher meetings. Any one of them were ready to go to your teachers or principal if anything happened.

Natasha would routinely check in with you to make sure that you weren’t being bullied.

Pepper also became a motherly figure, as she cared very much about you and Peter. She’d offer you a Stark Industries internship.

Movie nights were chaotic, but absolutely the best. It was hard for anyone to agree, so the team had a system where they’d rotate who got to pick the meeting. Sam and Peter were also not allowed to make popcorn after many unfortunate incidents. Most of the time you fell asleep late into the night and one of the Avengers carried you to bed (they’d never admit this, but that also became an argument).

It was during a movie night when Peter realized he liked you romantically. You fell asleep during a movie, your head on his shoulder. Peter swore he never experienced something so precious before. He was adamant to keep your peace, glaring at anyone who dared to talk.

The team found your growing romance to be adorable and often teased the two of you about it. The only people who didn’t tease you were Bruce, Pepper, and Thor (because he didn’t really understand how to effectively tease).

If Flash messed with you, Peter was always on top of it. He’d always protect you.

Steve was also always making sure that you knew right from wrong. He’d give long speeches about how it wasn’t right to smoke, drink, do drugs, etc.

Then Thor gave you Asgardian alcohol once, not realizing how bad that was considering you’re both human and underage. That was a mess. Peter having to hold your hair back when you vomited and multiple Avengers escorting you to bed. Thor got an earful about it.

Clint was one of the ones who better understood you, seeing as he had experience with his own kids. He was always good at mediating and defusing the tension.

Laura also adored you, you were her favorite babysitter for the kids. Whenever they went on date night, they’d drop the kids off at the tower, and you would watch them (Peter would help when he wasn’t on patrol).

Patrolling with Peter was also very fun. More often than not he’d convince you to take a break, then swing you up on top of a roof to watch over the city and the sky.

On multiple occasions, KAREN would rat the two of you out to Tony, but he was never mad. He just wanted to know all about the “date”.

Prom was also very fun. Honestly, the whole team would want to come pick out outfits with you and Peter. They took many, many pictures on the night of. Peter also teared up when he saw you. He thought you were stunning.

Of course, you guys had a curfew, but it was alright. You and Peter had a fantastic night. All he wanted to do was dance and hold you.

You had Happy wrapped around your finger. You could really convince him to drive you anywhere you wanted to go.

You also managed to get an internship at the Sanctum Santorum, learning more about magic under Doctor Strange and Wong’s guidance. The Avengers weren’t particularly thrilled, as they were worried about you being hurt, but understood your want to explore.

You really wanted to see all the areas of being a hero. Clint taught you archery and Natasha taught you how to be a spy. You’d listen to Natasha and Clint’s spy stories for hours. Peter would have to pry you away.

Peter always insisted on having date nights and would go all out, making every date special. He’d do anything to make you happy.

And so would all the Avengers. They loved seeing you smile, it brightened up their whole world and made the team stronger.

[twisted-dork]

Peter Parker’s Perspective: Joker’s Big Mistake

Peter sighed as he dangled from the ropes tied around his wrists, feet barely touching the ground. His Spider-Sense had been buzzing the entire time, but it wasn’t like he could do much about it. The moment he’d stepped out of the library while Aunt May was finishing up her work at the library, some creepy clown goons had grabbed him off the street.

And because he had Parker Luck, of course it was The Joker who’d taken him.

He stared at the clown in front of him, barely listening as the guy rambled about how much fun they were going to have. There were playing cards scattered around, knives on the table, and a group of henchmen standing awkwardly in the corner—probably because they knew this was a very bad idea.

Peter, on the other hand, wasn’t scared.

He was annoyed.

Because, honestly?

Joker had no idea what was coming.

Peter sighed dramatically. “Look, I’m gonna be real with you, Mr. Joker sir, you should let me go. Like, right now.”

Joker cackled, stepping closer. “Oh, really? And why would I do that, kiddo?”

Peter tilted his head. “Because my aunt’s coming.”

Joker blinked. “Your aunt?” He threw his head back in laughter, slapping his knee. “That’s adorable! What, she gonna bake me cookies?”

One of the goons near the door shifted uncomfortably. Peter didn’t miss it. See? At least one of these guys has survival instincts.

Peter sighed again, shaking his head. “Look, man. I tried to warn you. You don’t mess with Aunt May.”

Joker leaned in close, grinning wide. “Oh, but I love a good family reunion. Maybe I should keep you around, huh? Make her beg for her precious little boy back?”

A loud CRASH echoed through the warehouse.

Peter smiled.

“Ohhh, buddy,” he muttered, almost feeling bad for him. “It’s too late now.”

The door to the warehouse slammed open, nearly flying off its hinges. A metal baseball bat clattered to the floor, and standing in the doorway—breathing heavily, eyes burning with rage—was Aunt May.

But not just any Aunt May.

This was Angry Mom Mode Aunt May. The one who made Tony Stark apologize for keeping Peter out late. The one who, despite being de-aged, still had all the unfiltered rage of a mother bear protecting her cub.

Joker took a step back. “And who the hell are y—”

CRACK.

The baseball bat slammed into his ribs, sending him crumpling to the ground with a wheezing laugh.

The goons—who had been watching this all unfold—went completely still.

Peter just shook his head, watching as May grabbed Joker by the collar and decked him across the face.

He sighed again. “I told you.”

Joker groaned, trying to crawl away. May kicked him in the stomach, sending him rolling over.

One of the goons cleared his throat. “Uh… do we… do we help or…?”

The others immediately shook their heads.

“Hell no.”

“Dude, she’s not even hesitating.”

“She’s using a bat on the Joker, bro. Do you want to die?”

Meanwhile, May grabbed the bat again and swung, knocking Joker flat on his back. She was fuming. “YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST TAKE MY NEPHEW?!” CRACK. “YOU THINK I WON’T FIND YOU?!” CRACK. “I HAVE BEEN THROUGH TOO MUCH BULLSHIT TO DEAL WITH THIS RIGHT NOW, YOU PSYCHOTIC CLOWN!” CRACK.

Peter just sat there, still tied to the chair, waiting for her to finish.

Finally, May dropped the bat, took a deep breath, and turned to him. “Sweetheart, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, nodding toward Joker, who was groaning in pain. “I did try to warn him.”

May huffed, stepping over Joker’s unconscious body. “I know you did, honey.” She untied him and picked him up, settling him on her hip like he was a toddler. That’s when she saw the rope burn on his wrist.

Joker whimpered.

Before they left, May turned back and kicked him right between the legs.

Peter winced. “Oof. That one was for the rope burns, wasn’t it?”

May didn’t answer—just adjusted her grip on Peter and walked out like she hadn’t just traumatized half of Gotham’s criminal underworld.

Peter rested his head on her shoulder. “Can we get ice cream on the way home?”

May sighed. “Yeah, sweetheart. We’ll get ice cream.”

And with that, they left the warehouse, leaving behind a battered Joker and a room full of traumatized goons who would never mess with a mom on a mission again.

Masterlist

[pinksugarscrub]

O Sweet Juliet

Tom Holland! Peter Parker x fem! reader

Inspired by @heihei.edits on tik tok! Thank you again for your permission to make a story of my own. Thank you to @froggheadd for allowing me to use their art 💕 (i'll upload the banner asap!)

Word count: 946

~

“Pete?”

Your voice so soft it's barely above a whisper. Peter immediately perks up and drops his pencil. Like he's been waiting to hear your voice. His eyes search yours as he smiles.

“Yeah?”

“What’s this?”

Scooting your stool closer you ignore the loud squeak it makes across the lab's tile. Peter meanwhile slides his study guide away to the edge of the desk to make room for your textbook, English.

The pages contrast the formulas and theories Peter has been studying for over the past hour.

Normally the two of you would use a timer to keep from overloading your brains. But with finals coming up and an important mission soon after, you had to cram as much information as you could. Ned would also have joined but declined under the excuse his Lola needed him.

He really was your wingman when it came to Peter. You did however, owe him a cartilage of web fluid to mess around with for missing today's study session.

You trace your finger along stanzas before finally reaching line fifty-two. Reciting it before referring back to the essay prompt for your last paper.

“I understand Shakespeare was using pathos but how exactly does that connect to this?”

Peter leaned over you and despite the close proximity he felt so far away. His chin almost resting on your shoulder as he scanned the text. Romeo and Juliet, a “classic”. What? You can't help it if MJ degrades the play every chance she gets.

“Well…” He licked his lips before pulling away. Flipping through the pages as he continued. “The story is about love being blind, right?”

You nod as you look at him quizzically but still with enough patience that you don't interrupt.

“Young love specifically.” Peter finally stops on the prologue. Sticky notes littered in the margins much like the rest of your textbook. Definitions and context mostly.

“Shakespeare sets up this narrative from the beginning.”

The rest of his words fall on deaf ears as you admire him. Peter hasn't noticed that when concentrated, he taps his foot incessantly. Biting his nails as he articulates his next thought. His lashes fluttering remind you of how jealous you are over them.

“So…” you clear your throat as you look back to the textbook. What little words you did catch clicking together like cogs. “By setting up how completely infatuated they are-”

“-their deaths become the payoff,” he completes. Smiling even brighter as he notices that look of understanding flashing in your eyes. One he's seen all too often when you work on Stark tech.

He thinks you're just as bad as his mentor when it comes to your inability to take breaks. The restlessness you get from not being able to solve a miscalculation that leads to midnight coffee runs to the seven-eleven around the corner. Not that he's complaining. If anything, he hopes you'll get the craving for something sweet so he can whisk you away. Have you all to himself without the prying eyes of the other avengers.

Peter's quite aware Tony is hovering through the surveillance cameras. He wouldn't even be surprised if the rest of the team was watching them like their own personal home movie. Frankly he's tired of getting teased, especially by Thor.

“Ok…Ok so-” You shift closer and Peter feels his heart lurch in his chest. It's like you affect him so much his own body can't take being near you.

Would you mind if he peppered kisses along your cheeks when it gets too cold? Hold your hands as he stares at you like you're the most precious thing in his life.

He sometimes wonders if you feel the same way but with how easy you seem to make these interactions he thinks not. Maybe you know enough that these teasing touches are a way to torture him.

“-the scene where they first meet. That's the main foundation for how the reader sees them as a couple.”

Peter nods as he tries not to lean in and kiss you. His eyes dancing between your lips and the pencil you keep chewing on.

“Being star crossed lovers heightens the effect and makes us root for them,” you mumble,“and again is why their deaths are so effective at evoking pathos.”

“Right,” he chuckles.

You lean back but not to far. Stretching your arms over your head as you look down at the mess of notes and candy wrappers you made on Tony's desk. If anything it's to hide how hot your cheeks feel.

“Cool, thanks Pete.” You sneak a glance at him with a quick smile before quickly doting down the major points of your conversation. Ignoring how your heart races once he finally looks away.

“Of course,” he hums. Mind lost on the homework he was doing previously. All these numbers mean squat when you're sitting next to him. His grades would absolutely suffer if he had to share more than one period with you.

Peter must have reread ‘what is the missing angle?’ a dozen times between looking over at you while you admire his reflection through the lab doors.

Somewhere Thor is handing over a wad of cash while Natasha grins over her newfound prize. She gives it until prom season when Peter will have no choice but to ask you out on a date while Tony says it'll be less than a week because that's when the mission is. Adrenaline does something to you y'know? And Bruce…well Bruce just smiles against his coffee mug as he sees your hand reach out for Peter's under the desk. He hopes you like the anniversary gift he helped Peter pick out.

[heartsandstars46]

I love your precious heart

Just a fluffy little tasm!Peter x gf reader blurb because I am feeling scared and sad for no reason and would like to be comforted like this, please and thank you. 🙃🩷

CW: anxiety, fear

You were sitting next to Peter on the couch trying not to cry. He was right next to you, and you loved him, and yet you felt so alone. So scared. This was a stomach-churning, familiar feeling—free-floating sadness and fear with no discernible source, no plausible explanation.

Peter laughed at the show you two were watching and you jumped… then laughed like you knew what was going on. 

He looked at you. “Hey, are you okay?”

You smiled. “I’m fine. I’ll just be right back.” You got up, climbed over his legs, and went into the bathroom. You pushed the door behind you and sat on the edge of the tub. Tears were flowing freely now and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You realized the door had only closed partway, but one thing at a time. You dropped your head between your knees to try to alleviate the nausea. Your breathing was ragged and you felt so scared... but of what? That part was maddening.

You became aware of a tiny, barely audible tapping on the bathroom door.

“Hi,” you said, your voice muffled because your head was between your knees.

“I didn’t want to startle you again. Are you okay? Can I come in?”

You froze. You hated people seeing you like this, even Peter, but you also wanted someone to tell you everything was going to be okay. You made a noise that wasn’t really affirmative or negative. “I’m just not feeling well,” you managed to say.

“Oh, okay. Can I get you anything? Flat soda?”

You smiled through your tears. He was always so game to help. You longed to say yes, but what could he do? Not even Peter Parker could help you when you were drowning like this. 

You brought your head up, and your movement caught Peter’s eye. That damn heightened vision.

“Hey.” His voice was so soft and gentle, like he was talking to a scared cat or something. But then it quickly became alarmed. “Uhh, what’s all over your face?”

“What?” Well, that sure pulled you out of your anxiety! You jumped up and rushed to the mirror, but when you saw your reflection, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“What, you don’t like this?” You turned around to face Peter in the doorway. “I think it’s a good look.”

He stepped into the bathroom and squinted. “Is that… mascara?” He ran his thumb over your damp cheek and came away streaked with black.

“Yes, yes it is.”

“Okay, well, that’s a relief.” He chuckled, then held your head in his hands. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

His kindness just made you cry harder because the messaging you usually got was that your feelings were inconvenient and unwelcome.

“I’m sorry I’m like this.”

“I’m sorry you’re like this too.”

Your heart dropped and that must have translated on your face because he instantly started rambling. “No, I didn’t mean anything bad, I just wish you didn’t feel like this. I don’t care if you’re like this. I mean, I do care, but not in a negative way.” He sighed, finally giving up. “I just want to help.”

He was so sweet you couldn’t resist a tiny smile. “Thank you.”

“Would it be okay if I hugged you?”

You nodded and let him pull you into his chest. His warm arms wrapped tightly around you, and you leaned into him, listening to his heartbeat. For as lanky as he was, he could give a good weighted blanket hug. His hand rubbed your back. Despite being ostensibly orphaned, he was very loving and shared it easily. I love your precious heart. You'd heard that line in a song somewhere the other day, and you’d thought of him then… and certainly now.

“I’m just anxious is all,” you whispered. “I can’t even explain it, I don’t know where it came from, it just… grabbed my ankles and pulled me under while we were sitting on the couch.”

He kissed the top of your head.

“I would have told you, I just can’t even put it into words beyond… scared. And alone. And I know you’re literally holding me and it makes no sense....”

“No, I’ve felt that way before. Alone with other people?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s the best way to put it. Because your feelings are always there, just waiting to attack you, whether you’re alone or not. You’re always alone, at least sort of, and that is terrifying.”

He slowly rocked you in his arms. “You’re not alone right now, though. Even if it feels that way, I swear, you’re not alone. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You held onto him tighter. “Promise?”

[sizzlingcoffeequeen]

NIGHTMARE OF EVERY FATHER ( TONY STARK x FEMALE DAUGHTER READER )

Character's: Tony stark obviously x teenage daughter and mention of Peter Parkar

Writer's note: so hii there let me give you head's up before you read that english isn't my first language so their might be grammatical mistakes or even spelling mistakes so just please bear with that i tried to do my best and I'll improve further aswell i hope you enjoy. Thankyou:)

*No warnings , no harmful sensitive topic mentioned just a little fluffy emotional oneshot*

Here's a fanfiction based on Tony Stark's daughter Y/n got caught red handed about basically dating no other than her dad's intern Peter Parkar ( in this Y/n and Peter are of same 16 year's old age and they even go to the same school)

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

Not Allowed

"Well?"

Your dad raises an eyebrow, his arms crossed as he leans back in his chair. The footage FRIDAY just played is still hovering in the air—clear as day. Peter Parker that sneaky little intern of his , sneaking into your room through the window like the world’s worst ninja.

You're dead.

You shift uncomfortably. “Uh… I can explain?”

Tony Stark sighs dramatically and gestures vaguely at the hologram. "Oh, please, by all means. Because I’d love to hear how my sixteen-year-old daughter, the most precious thing in my entire existence, somehow thought it was a good idea to date my intern behind my back.”

You wince. “Okay, when you put it like that—”

"There's no other way to put it!" He stands up, pacing. “Peter Parker?! I specifically told you to stay away from him!”

You cross your arms. “You also specifically told me not to touch the Iron Man suits, and yet, here we are.”

He points at you. “That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Yes! Because—because—” He stops, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Because I said so, that’s why!”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Dad. Look, I get that you’re Iron Man and that makes you protective, but Peter’s not bad. You like Peter.”

Tony lets out a humorless laugh. “Liking him as my intern and liking him as the boy who sneaks into my daughter’s room are two very different things.”

You bite your lip. Yeah… fair.

“I will not allow this,” he says firmly, arms crossed again. “Nope. Absolutely not. Not happening.”

You groan. “Dad—”

“Don’t Dad me.” He glares. “I’m your father. My job is to protect you, and keeping you away from hormonal spider-teenagers is part of the gig.”

You throw your hands up. “You literally gave him the suit he’s wearing!”

“Yeah, and?”

“And you trusted him enough with that!”

Tony sighs and rubs his face. He looks exhausted. “Y/n,” he says, softer now. “I’m not mad because I don’t trust Peter. I’m mad because I… I don’t want you growing up so fast. You’re still my little girl.”

Your frustration fades a little. “Dad…”

“I mean it,” he says. “One day, you’re riding around in my workshop, drawing on my blueprints with crayons, and the next, you’re sneaking around with a superhero boyfriend? What’s next? College? Moving out?” He makes a face. “Marriage?”

You groan. “Okay, now you’re being dramatic.”

“I invented dramatic.”

You exhale, stepping closer. “I get it. I do. But you gotta trust me, okay? You raised me to be smart. I wouldn’t date someone who wasn’t worth it.”

Tony looks at you for a long time. His little girl. His whole world.

Then, finally, he sighs. “Fine.”

Your eyes widen. “Wait—really?”

He points a finger at you. “With conditions.”

You grin. “I can work with that.”

Tony mutters something under his breath about "spider-kids" and "stress wrinkles," but you hug him before he can protest. And despite all his complaints, he hugs you back—because no matter how grown up you get, you’ll always be his little girl.

And, well… maybe he can tolerate Parker. Maybe.

For now.

---

Hope you like it!

Thankyou:)

[sincericida]

ANDREW GARFIELD with fans at the Superhero Comic Con San Antonio - day two

'Andrew Garfield is the most adorable human being in the world 😭" (X)

[darlingweareatragedy]

mine to break, mine to save (part 3)

Warnings: Obsession, Violence, Dark Peter Parker, Manipulation, Possessive Behavior, Power Imbalance, Stalking, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Captivity, Unhealthy Relationships, Angst, Mind Games

Summary ~ You were the one soul Peter couldn't give up on, and he would bind you to him if that’s what saving you required.

Part 1, Part 2

You find her on a Thursday night. Half-drunk, half-crazy, and angry at the world. Perfect.

Or... that’s what you told yourself.

You were desperate. Desperate to find someone reckless enough, loud enough, disposable enough to pull Peter’s attention off you for even a few precious minutes. Someone to throw into the fire so you could slip away unnoticed.

You weren’t careful. You didn’t have the luxury of being careful.

You just needed someone.

She fit the part well, looking back perhaps a bit too too well, sharp tongue, fists quicker than thought. You fed her the lies easily: big scores, bigger payouts, no consequences. She didn’t question you.

Or so you thought.

The plan was simple.

Smash. Grab. Vanish. Easy.

But the night felt wrong from the start. The air was too crisp, too tense, too suffocating in your lungs.

And your partner? She was laughing too much. Glancing up at the rooftops a little too often. Like she was waiting for something.

But you brushed it off. You ignored it. You had to.

She smashed the storefront window just like how you planned, loud, messy, a spotlight.

But then the air shifted, and everything stopped.

And Peter... Peter dropped from the sky like the end of the world.

You ran.

But before you could vanish, a hand closed tight around your wrist. You turned, breath freezing in your throat.

Your partner. Smiling.

Cold. Cruel.

"Sorry, sweetheart," she sneered, tightening her grip. "You were never getting away."

The ground tilted under you, betrayal slicing deep. She’d sold you out. Led you straight into Peter’s waiting hands.

And yet... you didn’t hate her.

Not really.

It was ironic, really. You had planned to use her too. You picked her because she was loud, reckless, vulnerable. Expendable.

You hadn’t cared what happened to her, as long as it wasn’t you. Maybe this was karma, after all.

Maybe she figured it out before you did. Maybe she was just faster.

It didn't matter anymore, your chance to escape had gone.

When Peter’s arms closed around you, locking you against his chest like he could keep you there forever, you didn’t even blame her.

But Peter did.

He turned on her without hesitation.

The first punch sent her flying into the wall. She scrambled up, spitting blood, throwing a pipe at his head.

And Peter tore her apart.

It wasn’t a fight. It wasn’t even a warning.

It was an execution.

Cold. Brutal. Final.

You stood frozen, heart hammering out a sick rhythm, unable to look away.

Because in that moment, you realized.

Peter had been taking it easy on you.

Every time he caught you. Every time you ran. Every time you fought him, clawed at him, taunted him, whispered sweet lies laced with poison in his ear. He could have broken you.

He could have destroyed you like he was destroying her now. But he didn’t.

Because you were different. And that made everything worse.

The thought hollowed you out from the inside, leaving you small and shaking and so terribly alone. Maybe that’s why you were rooted to the spot, how you knew you should run but couldn’t.

You used to love being alone. You needed to be alone. It made you sharp. Unbreakable.

But now, standing there with Peter's shadow swallowing you whole, you felt nothing but vulnerable.

And for the first time, you hated it.

When she finally crumpled to the pavement, broken and silent, Peter turned back to you.

And the look in his eyes, possessive and burning, made your knees buckle.

"You see now," Peter murmured, wiping a bloodstained hand down your cheek like he was soothing you. "She's just like the others in this city. Selfish. Rotten. They'll smile at you and lie to your face. They don’t care about you. They never did. They'd hurt you. Use you. Throw you away when they’re done."

Your throat locked up, breathing ragged.

"I'm no better," you whispered, shaking. "I'm just as bad as she was."

Peter's mouth softened into something that almost looked like pity.

"No," he said fiercely. "You're not like her."

He cupped your face, cradling it gently, reverently.

"You're broken," Peter breathed, his voice sinking into your skin, deeper than any wound. "But I can fix you. I can save you."

You trembled as his webbing wound tighter around your wrists, binding you helplessly to him.

"You only have to trust me," Peter said, voice dark and sweet and final.

And inside you, where the sharpness used to be, something cracked.

Peter smiled when he felt it.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead like a brand, a promise.

"You're mine now," he whispered against your skin. "And no one's ever taking you away from me."

[wowowokay]

Okay uh wow two of my posts got a lot of attention last night thank you!! And dw I will be posting more fic recs :))

Astronomy In Reverse - pansley

Amazing fic (like changed my life) but tbh I’m having a bit of trouble remembering how it ends but it’s a Steve Rogers/James “Bucky” Barnes and Bucky is in hiding in New York after the whole thing in DC and he’s trying to stay under the radar hiding from Steve and Hydra and one day he runs into Spider-Man and that’s where their (100% PLATONIC/FAMILIAL FEELINGS) relationship starts :) it’s really cute and there’s some angst ofc

Words: 184,785 Chapters: 25/25

To a fault - Bergen

Okay this one is a series and is amazing basically hydra peter Parker and the avenger essentially save him but Peter doesn’t really see it that way he doesn’t really understand most of what they are doing and they are trying to help him anddd yeah! (Yet again trying not to spoil accidentally lolol) yet again this is a series and it’s complete the series is called Peter is a precious chickpea and there are three works in the series! Also for word count I’m including the whole series and I totally recommend checking out Bergens other works they have a ton of Irondad fics!

Words: 25,520

My Son - Scififan33

Okay so this one is also part of a series called My Son, Our Son and the second part is called Our Son but basically the first one is about Tim going a little insane and trying to clone Kon after his death and then Tim goes into hiding so they wouldn’t take his baby away and he leaves a not but ofc the others think he was kidnapped and go looking but never find him then Bruce “dies” and it’s been a while now and quiet of few people assume Tim is gone for good except for Kon who just came back from the dead then the next part of the series is about Tim, Kon and their baby :))

Words: 30,405

I hope you enjoy! And yes I will continue posting it just might take a minute I don’t have my fics organized at ALL 🥲 also sorry if these descriptions are super ramble-y and stop being as descriptive towards the end I’m horrible with accidentally spoiling stuff so I’m trying to be super careful!!

[kairiscorner]

omg I LOVED your Drunk Miguel hcs! Is there any chance of you writing some for the other Spdier people? Especially Spider Noir?

AAAAA SO GLAD TO HEAR THAT ANON ! and ofc, consider it done <333

when drunk noir :>

drunk noir headcanons

ok, the stages in which noir get drunk are: slightly drunk, giggly, undergoing a midlife crisis, lovesick, and sleepy

the slightly sober stage is the stage when noir should really stop drinking. i headcanon that it doesn't take him long to get drunk, like maybe... 3 to 4 shots, and he's entering the slightly drunk stage. he kinda dissociates when he's in this stage, like miguel in the drunk miggy headcanons, he kinda goes quiet and speaks only when spoken to, but it's a whole lotta gibberish that comes out of his mouth instead of coherent words. he'd look like he's staring into space, when actually he's just focusing on how fuzzy the world looks like right now as the liquor is settling in. past this point, you are now entering the harder than manageable peter parker drunk.

his giggly stage is when he's had a couple more than 3 to 4 shots, and he laughs his ass off at the most out of context shit ever. like he sees a little fly on the table and he just chuckles to himself because the liquor is making him think, "oh shit, what a funny fly, it's not purple." and when he's told a joke he laughs THE FUCK out of it, even minutes after the joke was said, he's still laughing about it to the point of tears. if he remembers the joke, he'll laugh about it randomly and not explain at all because he forgets soon after what he was laughing at, like, "wait, haha, why am i, hah, laughing again?" his smile when he's drunk is so fucking precious though

after the laughing fit, he enters the depressing midlife crisis stage. he rambles and mumbles a lot to himself about how shitty his life has been, how he wishes uncle benjamin wasn't... you know, how he really regrets being distant and aloof towards a lot of people he's loved in his life and how he can never catch a break with all the horribleness in his life. he cries during this stage, but it's a quiet kind of crying. like he sniffles a little but when he cries, by default, he isn't loud. he must've learned how to cry without attracting so much attention, because it's only when you pay attention to the right details, his eyes, his nose turning red, his lips quivering, and the small sounds he makes when sobbing that you realize he was crying this whole time.

but after sobbing for a little while, if he's still drinking, his hormones change from the sad and depressing ones to the "i need to be held and to hold someone right now" hormones in the lovesick stage. if you're really close to peter, he'd kinda get a little handsy and talkative, still stuttering gibberish. he'd just go on and on and on about how purple is a pretty color but every color on you is by far the prettiest colors he has ever and will ever witness. he incessantly asks if he can hold your hand or hug you, he just wants to feel your warmth because the alcohol makes him feel colder. when you agree to hug him, omg, you are never going to be let go by him, i swear. like MAN HAS A TIGHT GRIP, EVEN WHEN DRUNK. but he holds you with the intent of making you feel loved, not pained nor burdened, just a gentle reminder he loves you. he gets a little giggly here too, but that's only because he's so happy he's with you right now and you didn't reject him, 'cause if you did, he'd be back in the midlife crisis stage.

and finally, the last stage of them all, when he gets sleepy. nothing much happens in this stage, save for peter just slowly getting tired and just drifting off to sleep, letting the alcohol in his system take him away to dreamland. but his favorite place to sleep is against your shoulder, nothing's more comforting to him than to feel you close next to him as he sleeps, knowing you're there for him for whatever happens while he's knocked out due to his inebriated self.

a/n: sorry i had to give him angst... it's my instinct <:[

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @connors-cumslurper

[ironbabey]

July

Peter Parker x Reader

angst, maybe fluff?

Word Count: 1k

Inspired by the song July by Noah Cyrus

~~~~~~~~

I've been holding my breath, I've been counting to ten, over something you said

“So uh, what do ya say? Wanna give it a shot?” Please say yes please say yes please say yes-

“I’m sorry, I really am, but I’m gonna have to say no.”

No. He said no.

It took you months to work up the courage to finally tell him how you felt, ironically you told yourself the worst he could say was no. Fuck, it hurt.

You were crushed. “Oh uh, that's okay. We can just stay friends.” It’s not okay, you don’t want to be friends. Well, you do. You also wanted-no, hoped- for something more.

He smiled, god you loved that smile. It never failed to make your heart skip a beat, even breaking it at the same time.  “Glad this won’t change our friendship. I care about you a lot.” He says, you can hear the pity in his voice.

He cared, just not in the way you wanted.

I've been holding back tears, while you're throwing back beers, I'm alone in bed

You were always told rejection hurt but you didn’t think it’d be this painful. Peter went out while you were sulking in your bed. There’s more fish in the sea, right? You shouldn’t have fallen for him, everyone told you not to, and yet here you are.

How could you be so stupid?

Of course he didn’t like you.

You were nothing compared to her.

You didn't have the perfect teeth, the perfect hair, the perfect skin, the perfect...anything. You were just you.

You stupidly thought that it would be enough for him, she didn't even remember him, but you made new memories with him.

You know I, I'm afraid of change. Guess that's why we stay the same

You two were fighting now. It's your fault anyways. You lashed out on him just because he hadn’t reached out to you since that day. He's ignored your texts, calls, hell you even tried an email for the fun of it. He stilled ignored you.

The day you confessed really fucked things up.

You decided to be the bigger person and show up at his door. He would've known you were going over if he read your messages.

“I thought we agreed that wouldn’t change us. You said you wanted to be friends so why are you being such a dick?”

 “I’m being a dick? Oh, that’s real funny coming from you. I have a life full of other people, not just you. I don’t see why I have to be the one to do everything.”

You bit your lip and looked at the ground, embarrassed that you were acting childish, “No, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

So, tell me to leave, I'll pack my bags, get on the road

Peter let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair, the soft hair you used to play with during the times you'd study together. “I think you should go. I can’t handle this—you—right now.”

You refused to cry in front of him. “Yeah, okay.” You grabbed your bag and slammed the door shut on your way out. You fucked everything up, didn’t you?

Find someone that loves you better than I do, darling, I know

A week went by, and he finally texted you, asking you to go over and talk it out. In the end you were still his best friend, and he didn't want to lose you.

You picked up a photo that was in a beautiful golden frame on the coffee table, you knew who the woman was, Peter talked about her all the time, and it killed you. You thought he was over her.

 “What are you doing with that?” He grabbed the framed photo from your hands as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

You blinked back the tears that were threatening to come out, “It was just sitting here, she’s pretty. Really pretty.”

Peter smiled, “Yeah, she was. The greatest too.”

‘Cause you remind me everyday, I’m not enough but I still stay

You two sat in uncomfortable silence. He wanted to make up, wanted things to be normal again, but you had other plans. You wanted answers. “What does she have that I don’t? What’s so different?”

He groaned. “Please, don’t start this right now.”

You stood up from the couch, “No! I want to know why you’re after someone who moved on. Someone who doesn't even rem-“

“She was the only one there for me through all of it! She helped me from beginning to end! I ruined everything just to make sure she got into the school she worked so hard for!" His voice went soft, he couldn't hold back the tears that went streaming down his face. His brown eyes were hardly visible through them, "She was all I had. She was the only girl that ever looked my way and actually liked me.”

Then what am I?

I've done a lot of things wrong, Loving you being one. But I can't move on

“What?”

“Then what am I?”, you repeated deep down you knew you were being a little selfish, but he had no right to say you didn't care, “I’ve been there for you. I’ve laughed with you, cried with you, I even fought with you and you’re still tossing me aside?”

“Listen-“

“No! You listen to me! I’ve done nothing but love and care about you but clearly that’s not enough! Nothing is ever enough for you! I-I’m not enough.”

Peter stood to hug you. To tell you that you was more than enough. To tell you he was just afraid of being more than what you were now.

If you want me to leave, then tell me to leave, and baby, I'll go

You moved away from his attempted hug. How dare he cry when it was him who was hurting you? “N-No, you don’t get-get to cry.” you choked out through your own tears.

“I’m sorry please just understand.” He begged.

“Tell me to leave. Tell me you don't want to see me again and I’ll stop. I’ll leave you alone just like you want.” That’s not what he wanted, not at all. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if you left him too.

“That’s not-I want you to stay.”

You remind me every day, I'm not enough, but I still stay

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

[harleykeeners]

Be My Life Line (Please)-Parkner

Peter Parker/Harley Keener

Prompt: Peter Parker is overwhelmed. His Dads happen to be called out on a mission the same week his life decided to fall apart. With 4 tests, massive presentations, and no parents, Peter starts popping pills to cope with the pressure of everything crumbling around him. Harley finds him and accidentally makes it worse.

Word Count: 9282

“Hey, kid. Just checking in, we just landed. Everything good?” Tony asked.

Peter put the phone down as he sighed, “Yeah, everything’s great.” Lying through his teeth, Peter started to make his way to the medicine cabinet.

“That’s good to hear. Hey, we should be back in 3 days tops. Just gotta wrap something up here with Nat quickly, something about some rogue spies, I don’t even know at this point.”

“Sounds like fun. Well, I gotta go, got things to do. Be safe, love you.” Peter hung up and just… stared into the mirror. He closed the medicine cabinet and walked away. Tony and Stephen were suddenly pulled away for a mission Peter (and apparently Tony) knew next to nothing about. Which was normal.

Except it had to be this week.

It had to be the week Peter had his Calc and Physics midterm.

It had to be the week Peter had an English and History test.

It had to be the week Peter promised to help MJ with Academic Decathlon practice.

It had to be the week Peter was set to present his work to the other head scientists at Stark Industries.

All in all, he had too much this week. Too much, all at once.

Normally, whenever Tony and Stephen were out, Peter would ask Pepper for help. Well, with Pepper being promoted to CEO, that was next to impossible. After Pepper, Peter would go to Happy. However, it appeared the universe was dead set on making Peter’s week terrible. Happy was preoccupied with training new bodyguards and media specialists (which wasn’t his job?).

So, Peter was alone. Alone with a crammed schedule.

He took solace in his bedroom, the lights low with just a lamp over his desk. He figured the best course of action was tackling everything one thing at a time. Or else he feared he would drown.

Peter found it kind of funny, how all of his teachers decided to assign work the same week his internship project was due for a presentation. He figured he’d start with his Physics review. The packet had 60 questions, and he hadn’t started yet. His midterm was 40% of his final grade. He couldn’t afford to fail- which he doesn’t think he will- but better safe than sorry.

As he stares at the packet, Peter wonders why he cares so much. Maybe it's because everyone tells him how “lucky” he is. How he has to make his Dads proud. How he has to live up to his Dads expectations. How he has to prove he’s “worthy” of the life he has.

He knows it’s irrational.

But, it's still enough to motivate him to study himself into an early grave.

He stares at the paper… and completely blanks out.

Friday alerts Peter that it is time for dinner. Normally Tony would make dinner, (or at least leave Peter some leftovers), however, he left in such a rush that Peter had to make his own dinner. The only issue with that is, Peter easily loses track of time. Peter would find himself burning several meals and leaving the oven on multiple times.

It’s not that Peter is a bed cook, just not a safe one.

Tony had banned Peter from the kitchen multiple times.

Worse comes to worst, Peter will cook. However, he’d rather not. Whenever Tony and Stephen would usually leave, Pepper or even Harley would come over and cook. They’d make a day of it.

As Peter stares into the fridge, he really starts to contemplate calling or texting Harley. However, he imagines it’d go something like this:

“Harls, how do I make pasta?”

“Peter, you can not be serious…”

Once Peter sees that there isn’t food, he goes back to his room. He doesn’t want to waste more precious study time. Besides, he wasn’t that hungry. Dinner could be a bit later.

Peter went back to his packet and about his day.

Before he knew it, Friday alerted him it was midnight.

“Great..” Peter muttered. He hadn’t eaten and still didn’t understand certain problems in his review packet.

Peter gave up and started getting ready for bed. He wasn’t that hungry anyway. He set his alarm and then remembered, Tony wasn’t here to drive him. He’d have to take the bus.

Peter set his alarm for 5 A.M.

After a quick shower, he settled into bed and checked his phone. No notifications. It seemed his Dads were busy.

“Goodnight,” Peter says to himself. He could feel it, this was going to be a hard week.

Initially, Peter thought he’d be fine. His Dads joke about how it would be a trial run for college. Peter would be responsible for getting to school, work, and all the house chores. “I’ll be fine,” Peter said. “Go! Go save the world!” Peter ushers his Dads out the door after a quick goodbye.

He wishes he went with them.

The alarm hurls him awake. Peter fights every force known to man, plus some, to get out of bed. His phone's brightness slightly blinds him, and he sees the time says 5:10 A.M. and a text from his Dad.

Dad: Have a good day! Just killed a weird alien, will bring goop as souvenir!

9:45 P.M.

Peter hurls himself out of bed and makes his way into the bathroom.

“What the fuck!” Peter shouts as he hops into the freezing shower. He laughs to himself, “Oh, the universe is out to get me.”

Pro: Peter was no longer sleepy.

Con: Peter was freezing in the middle of January, in New York.

He rushes to pack his bag, making sure to shove his review packet in there. Peter hoped to do a few extra questions on the bus. Racing downstairs, Peter quickly grabs a banana for breakfast and races out the door.

“Next bus in 30 minutes,” reads on the bus app. Great, that only means Peter just missed the bus.

He sat at the bus stop, regretting not dressing warmer, and started working on his review packet. The smell of weed hit him as a few people started to gather at the bus stop. It frustrated him that he had to smell weed this early in the morning. That was the main reason he asked Tony to drive him to school.

He wasn’t a fan of starting his day with the horrid stench of weed at 5:30 A.M.

By the time the bus came, Peter had to fight his way on. He ended up standing in the alley, holding on to the overhead rails for support. Any plans to keep studying went out the window.

The morning bus was always oddly crowded. People getting on would shove and jostle Peter, and he simply got used to it.

As luck would have it, Peter forgot to grab his headphones. The nice thing about the morning bus was that no one tried to talk to him. He quietly watched the street view and the soft fall of snow outside.

He found comfort in the route. It was the same route every day. It was a constant.

When he finally got off at Midtown, the time was 6:45 A.M. Peter had 15 minutes before class in which he can continue his studies. He found a small corner by the school and settled down.

“Yo, you got those practice questions I asked for?” MJ asks. She seemed to appear out of thin air and scared the shit out of Peter.

“Oh, no. Sorry, it completely slipped my mind.” He answered as MJ opted to sit next to him. Peter forgot that MJ was in the hospital with her mother and needed help with Academic Decathlon practice questions.

“Ah, don’t sweat it. I just need them before Thursday.” She looks over his shoulder at the packet. “Last minute cramming?”

Peter nods and sighs at the same time. “Yeah. I think I’ll be fine but can never be too sure.”

MJ laughs and quips back “Yeah, don’t be like Flash. He’s going on and on about how he knows he’ll ace it but” MJ leans closer to Peter, “If you look at him closely, you can see the panic in his eyes.”

They shared a laugh before MJ got up to roam around school a bit before class. Peter was feeling a bit more confident, however, his test anxiety was acting up. Bad enough that he has to take this test at the end of the day. Now he’ll just be anxious all day.

Throughout the day, Peter’s head started to hurt. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, mixed with his empty stomach, and his anxiety that started making his head spin.

It was fine, he just needed to get through this midterm. That he forgot about until yesterday. That was worth 40% of his grade. That could tank his 96% “A”. That Flash 100% bombed if his face at lunch was anything to tell by.

If Peter played his cards right, he just needed 81% to end up with 90%. He needs to end the semester with an “A”. He can only afford to get 12 questions wrong. He should have studied earlier. His head is spinning. His palms are sweating. When did it get so hot?

Peter flips over his test and quickly skims the questions. He doesn’t remember what happens next.

He walked out of the classroom, feeling relief that it was finally over. Until he remembers he has to go on patrol.

Peter really didn’t want to go on patrol as he had his Chemistry midterm on Thursday. But, Spider-Man can’t just disappear for a week. So, despite his better judgment, he calls Ned to take his bag.

Normally, Peter loves patrol. He loves swinging from building to building and helping those in need. Peter finds that being Spider-Man is one of the few moments he can truly be himself. No pressure from school, friends, or his Dads. Spider-Man is his window to freedom.

And right now, Peter wants to slam the window shut. Right now, Peter needs to be studying. However, just as he thinks that Peter sees a cat in a tree.

“Hey! Someone a little stuck?” Peter asks the cat, not really expecting a response. (However, he doesn’t ignore the possibility of a talking cat.) Luckily, the cat doesn’t try to scratch him. Peter easily scoops up the cat and returns it to the ground.

“I feel like I should find your owner…” The cat ends up running away behind some home, allowing Peter to conclude that it was an outside cat that simply got stuck.

He wishes his patrol ended there. Over the next 3 hours, the universe decided to line up every petty crime back-to-back. First, Mr. Delmar found himself behind gunpoint. Then, some teenagers decided to rob a gas station. Followed by three guys causing a commotion on the subway. And the cherry on top of this picture-perfect night was a woman getting mugged right as Peter was going to go home.

Peter knows he’s there to help. But sometimes, sometimes he wishes he could be selfish and take the day for himself.

He swings by Ned’s window to collect his bag and makes his way home.

“Welcome home, Peter. It is currently 9:37 P.M.” Friday announces. Peter simply groans and makes his way to the shower. One thing he feels he must do is shower after patrol. Even though he should go to bed, Peter needs to study.

The relief Peter feels as the hot water hits his shoulders is unparalleled. It's the first moment of relaxation all day.

As Peter gets dressed, he notices the clock strikes 10 P.M. That gives him roughly an hour to study. He silences his phone to avoid all distractions and hits the books.

Dad: Everything okay? Haven’t heard from you yet

10:12 P.M.

Pops: Hope you’re doing well, Peter.

10:19 P.M.

Dad: Sleep well, kid. Love ya

10:35 P.M.

He doesn’t notice the missed texts. Peter wakes up on his desk.

His phone is screaming at him from across the room. His head hurts and the lights he left on blind him.

“Shit,” He thinks. Peter pulls himself from the desk, his back in agony and his head pounding. “Friday, what time is it?”

“It is 6 A.M, Peter.”

“Oh, shit.” Peter thinks. “I’m going to miss the bus.” Immediately, Peter throws on the first thing he sees and races out the door. No time for breakfast. Now that he thinks about it, he missed dinner yesterday.

As he rushes to the bus stop, Peter realizes the bus is approaching. Luckily, there's a line of people to get on so Peter makes it on in time. Way too close for comfort.

By now, his head is pounding. He keeps forgetting to eat and he’s not getting enough sleep. He’s still sore from patrol and he’s anxious about his tests. And now, he’s out of breath from chasing the bus.

It’s not like today is going to get any better. Peter knows he still has to do the Academic Decathlon questions MJ asked for. Plus, he needs to finish patrol quickly to review some formulas that were wrong on his internship project.

Once again, MJ finds him sitting in the same corner, now reviewing Chemistry. Peter sees her from the corner of his eye and prepares to let her down again.

“Before you ask, no, I still don’t have the AcaDeca questions. I’m sorry, I’ll try my hardest to get them done by tomorrow.” Peter doesn't promise and he isn’t even sure what he just said is true.

He doesn’t really know why he can’t just tell MJ he doesn’t have the time to do them.

Well, Peter knows why.

He doesn’t want to let her down. He doesn’t want to admit he can’t do something. He doesn’t want to admit he bit off more than he can chew. Peter wants to be someone people can rely on. But right now, he can’t even rely on himself.

“No sweat, just let me know if it’s too much. I can always ask Ned to do them instead.” MJ calmly answers back.

Peter should tell her that would be better, but something stops him.

“Hey, MJ.” Peter finds himself saying. "Do you have any Advil on you?”

“Yeah, why? Headache?”

Peter nods his head as MJ hands him the small pill. “Slept horribly.” He doesn’t even bother getting water and dry swallows the pill. MJ shoots him a look of sympathy and understanding.

“Happens to the best of us,” she says. With that, MJ bids Peter farewell and he resumes his studies.

When 3rd period rolls around, Peter is hit with the fact that he indeed has a history test today. He’s not panicking, just annoyed he forgot. It seemed like things were slipping from his memory recently.

The class is silent as they take their test and Peter starts to feel dizzy again. He didn’t eat during lunch and instead kept studying. He drinks some water, which does help him a little, but right now Peter just wants to put his head down.

He finishes his test and makes a dash for the bathroom. He just needs a minute to breathe. “Okay, just calm down. Just relax and focus,” Peter thinks as he splashes water onto his face. He begins to form a list and organize himself:

Patrol.

Internship formula.

Chemistry Midterm.

English test.

Academic Decathlon Questions.

And dinner.

He keeps forgetting that one.

Peter just needs to better manage his time. Other than that, he sees no reason to be overwhelmed. He’s just all over the place. However, his head wasn’t feeling much better.

The nurse can’t give him any medication so Peter will have to wait till he gets home.

The bell finally rings and Peter makes a dash for an empty alleyway. He doesn’t bother giving Ned his bag as he simply webs it to the wall. Peter jumps into his suit and begins his quick patrol. No more than an hour, the city gets Spider-Man for one hour and that’s it. Today, Peter Parker is needed more than Spider-Man.

Rushing to wrap the patrol up, Peter ends up slamming into a pole.

“Fuck!” He shouts and concludes patrol then and there. His arms are throbbing but that doesn’t matter, Peter still needs to get home and review his project.

The tower is freezing, and Peter makes a run to the bathroom. With no time to revel in the soothing hot water, he quickly cleans up the sweat and blood and changes into his comfort clothes. The other interns will simply deal with Peter in Harley’s hoodie and sweatpants.

Before going down to the lab, Peter goes to the medicine cabinet. His head is killing him and the pain in his arms isn’t going away. He looks at the bottle of Advil and opens it. He takes two for his headache and two more for his arms.

As he swallows the pills, Peter realizes that he hasn’t eaten yet. However, he then remembers Friday exists. “Friday, could you order a pizza and deliver it to the lab for me?”

“Of course, Peter.” Friday happily responds.

With that settled, Peter heads to the lab.

Peter is face to face with the whiteboard and one problem on it. He’s been going over it for hours. He keeps ending up with a remainder, however, it ruins the machine's code. All the other interns have taken a stab at it and none have been successful.

“This is going to be the death of me.” One of them says, which by the size of their eye bags, seems to be right.

“I swear I’m going insane. How do we keep getting a remainder? We’ve used every rational method…” Another intern says.

“We have to be missing something super obvious. Maybe, we need a new set of eyes?” Peter says and then realizes his error. They have all been staring at the same problem for the better course of an hour now, and probably all have tunnel vision.

The only issue is, they've run the problem by every intern.

“Are you going to call your Dads? I bet they could figure this out.”

And that comment struck a nerve in Peter. Mainly because he knows he can solve this. He’s solved this type of problem thousands of times before. But for some reason, he’s stuck.

They have to figure this out, as they are set to present this robot to the pantheon of scientists at Stark Industries on Thursday.

“Wait…” one of the interns speaks up, “Isn’t Harley in today?”

Peter silently cries tears of joy.

The universe is throwing him a bone.

Harley is an intern in every way but legally. Peter rushes to call the front desk and hunts Harley down. “Send Keener to lab 37, immediately. Tell him it’s life or death.”

They all let out a sigh of relief, finally having a small break from the same numbers on the whiteboard. It’s 8:45 P.M. and Harley is met with five interns surrounded by several cups of coffee and energy drinks.

“What’s going on?” Harley asks in a slight panic.

Peter doesn’t answer. He simply hands him a dry-erase marker and places him in front of the whiteboard. Harley doesn’t need direction, as Peter can see his mind running as he stares at the problem. They all leave him be.

Peter takes the time to pick up his pizza and eat a bit. He forgot how good New York pizza is. With some food in his stomach, Peter quietly sneaks off to take another pill. His arms are still throbbing and his head is killing him. At least now he has some food in his system.

He comes back to see Harley on a completely new board, the previous one filled with equations.

“Still can’t crack it?” he asks.

“Darling, I think you finally got me. What the hell is this?”

“I have no idea. We’ve been stuck on this for weeks and keep getting a remainder, which then causes a system error in the bot. Thought you’d be able to figure it out.” Peter answers.

“Do you guys still have your previous proofs?”

“Yeah, right over there.” Peter points to a stack of paper on a nearby desk. Harley nods and ruffles through the stack, his eyes quickly skimming the numbers.

Peter goes off to grab some water. He gets the compulsion to check his phone and notices he has a few texts from Tony and Stephen.

Dad: Just checking in, all good?

6:11 P.M.

Dad: Would you like an alien finger as a souvenir?

8:24 P.M

Peter laughs at the messages and sends back a quick selfie to make sure Tony knows he is indeed alive (despite what his body is telling him). To his surprise, Tony replies right away and they spend a few seconds discussing TSA guidelines for transporting severed alien fingers.

Harley then speaks up and asks, “Peter, what’s the square root of -1?”

“It’s i.” He quickly responds. The square root of -1 does not exist, so its i, which stands for an imaginary number.

“Right, and who wrote this?” Harley calls him over to review some work. He points to some long equation where there’s a smudged number.

“Does that say 1 or i?” He asks.

Peter sees red. They have all spent weeks looking over this problem, going slightly insane, all because of some poor penmanship.

“That’s supposed to be an i..”

“Yeah, but then they added it to the equation as if it were a one- which throws everything off-”

“By one,” Peter concludes. “That’s why we keep having a remainder.”

In a moment of pure blinding rage, Peter throws all the work onto the floor. His entire team had spent weeks refining their robot, all because someone misread a number. Peter was fuming.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Peter shouts.

This grabs everyone's attention. They all gather around Harley, who's picking up the paper on the floor. “Hey, at least we caught it now and not in front of the professionals.” Harley tries to reassure Peter.

The group nods, but Peter doesn’t care.

He’s beyond exhausted and at the end of his patience.

He quickly checks his phone and sees that it’s 10:22 P.M. He’s even more frustrated as he still needs to shower and do homework. However, before he storms off he speaks up, “Next time we do something like this, we are all making our numbers and variables extremely legible.” He doesn’t wait to see the looks on everyone’s faces and storms off to his room.

The entire fiasco was making his head hurt even more, so Peter pops another pill before bed. At least he ate today. Peter will take the small victory.

He lost track of how many pills he took today.

Before going to bed, Peter realizes that he doesn’t care about bothering Happy. He calls Happy and -borderline begs- him to take him to school. Happy agrees and Peter is over the moon he can sleep in a bit more.

The extra hours of sleep do wonders for Peter. He’s able to take a shower without rushing and is even able to eat a light breakfast. Peter allows himself to stop and breathe. He feels like he hasn’t had the chance to.

“Kid, are you ready to go?” Happy calls out as Peter quickly packs his bag. He nods and they both make their way to the cars. Peter hops in the back and, to his surprise, ends up falling asleep.

(It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. He looks like shit.)

It was a much needed power nap, and Peter felt slightly better. He says goodbye to Happy and makes his way to his corner. He sees Ned sitting there, eagerly waiting for him.

“Woah, dude are you okay?” Ned asks with concern. Peter simply waves him off and says he’s fine. Ned doesn’t question it and simply changes the subject to the Academic Decathlon training they have in two days. With that, Peter remembers that he needs to finish those questions. He makes a mental note to finally start them.

Peter knows he has his English test today, and he honestly can’t be bothered to review. He knows he’ll be fine.

Instead, he begins the Academic Decathlon questions he promised MJ he’d have ready for tomorrow. Now, the challenge with that is that he needs to come up with questions that are challenging- but not impossible. Which is extremely difficult.

He promised MJ 30 questions: Ten math questions, ten science questions, and ten history/geography questions. In the first two sections, Peter had it in the bag. He pulled several problems from projects he’d seen in the labs and even a few Tony used on his suits.

The history/geography ones stumped him. This was MJ’s field of expertise, not Peter’s.

However, Peter’s too stubborn to ask for help. It doubles as reviewing, in a weird way. Peter pulls several articles from various historical moments and begins crafting some questions. He convinces himself that he’s reviewing his reading compression skills.

By the time his English test rolls around, Peter has managed to complete 26 questions. He’s running on pure adrenaline and 2 more Advills, but he’s getting it done. Like clockwork, Peter blanks out during his test. He’s sure he did fine, English wasn’t ever challenging to him.

However, he can’t afford to worry about that. In the grand scheme of things, that test was less than 1% of his stress. He almost forgot about his Chemistry midterm tomorrow. Plus, he had his presentation and AcaDeca training the following day.

Peter sometimes wishes he knew how to say no.

Patrol was starting to feel more like a job. Peter dreaded it and that frustrated him because Peter loved helping people. He loved seeing people smile and making their day. Being Spider-Man is one of the things Peter’s the proudest of. However, he can’t help others if he can’t even help himself. That’s evident by the empty pill bottle in his bag.

Once again, Peter is convinced the universe is out to get him. Everything that could go wrong, goes wrong. Mr. Delmar gets held at gunpoint, the bank has two attempted robberies, Peter counts seven muggings, and finally, some punks thought it would be funny to rob the pawn shop run by the old lady. Honestly, he couldn’t catch a break.

And it was one after another. Spider-Man didn’t stop and was constantly moving between crimes. He was getting overwhelmed and his movements were getting sloppy. The worst part was that Peter wasn’t pulling back his punches. There was so much going on at once that controlling his strength was the last thing on his mind.

That’s when he finally accepted he had a problem.

He saw the blood on his hands and the horrified looks of the criminals he was hurting. Thankfully, most civilians had fled the area so they didn’t witness the grotesque image of Peter decking them with ease. So Peter had to call the cops and the ambulance to patch up the bodies he left behind.

He was getting irritable and irrational. He has to cut the patrol short. Spider-Man is becoming more of a danger rather than an aid.

His knuckles are busted open and he has bruises all over his chest. When he gets home, Peter downs another 6 pills to try and numb the pain. He hasn't eaten and he hasn’t showered but that isn’t his concern. He sloppy puts on some bandages over his wounds and immediately hits the books.

By now it's 8:48 P.M. and Peter is about to pass out. He’s staring at his desk with his chem packet and AcaDeca questions all spread out. He’s almost done but he's beginning to see spots. His head is pounding and no matter how many pills he takes, the pain isn't going away. It hurts to move and he’s hungry and he knows he stinks.

Finally, it seems the universe has him beat and Peter snaps.

Peter- against his will- breaks down. He’s crying his eyes out and his head is killing him. Peter can feel a migraine coming on and he doesn’t think he’ll survive. He begins hyperventilating and he runs for more pills. Whether or not they work doesn’t matter, Peter’s convinced himself it's better than nothing.

By this point, Peter’s blocked out all his surroundings. Therefore, he doesn’t notice when Harley walks onto the floor and calls for him.

“Hey, Peter! So, for our presentation, I was thinking we should maybe revisit the previous reversion with-” Harley stops dead in his tracks when he finds Peter.

Peter knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew this wasn’t healthy. He knew he was destroying his body. But Peter was ashamed.

He was too prideful to ask for help.

Harley simply looks at him, and Peter knows what it looks like. His hair is a mess, his hands are bloody, his face is bruised, his eye bags are heavy, and the empty pill bottle on the floor seals the deal.

“Peter, what did you do?” Harley asks with worry and anger in his voice.

“I’m fine. Harls. I’m just stressed.” Peter waves off. The last thing he wants is for Harley to lecture him. “I’m okay, you can go. I have homework I need to finish.”

“No! I’m not gonna sit around and watch you do this to yourself!” Harley yells. He starts to pace the living room back and forth, shaking his head and looking in shock.

“You preach on and on about how drugs are the downfall of our generation and now- what? You’re popping pills? Peter, what the hell?”

Peter feels awful. He feels like shit. He wants the ground to swallow him whole.

Peter knows what he’s doing is wrong. He knows he's in the wrong. But… he just wants to help people. He just wants to meet their expectations. And now… he feels like a failure, and Harley is only rubbing salt in the wound.

“Harley, please…” Peter breaks down and Harley snaps out of his angry trance.

“Please, just hold me.” Peter wails as he falls onto the floor. He holds himself tight as he tries to process the millions of thoughts swimming in his head. Harley suddenly drops to the floor and begins to comfort Peter.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I’m so stressed. And it started small.” Peter starts. He isn’t sure if he hears Harley ask questions, but now he can’t stop talking.

“I was just having such bad headaches and taking them made it better. But then I started taking them whenever I got stressed and- I was so stressed this week. Patrol was so hard and they helped with the pain, and I lost track of how many I’ve had. I’m so sorry to disappoint you, but I already feel like shit, Harls. I don’t need you reminding me of the failure I am. I already know that! I let you down, I let my Dads down, I let myself down. I let everyone down!”

“I just want my Dads.” Peter sobs into Harley’s arms. “I’m so tired…” Tears are filling his eyes and it's getting harder to breathe. His chest feels tight and he’s in so much mental anguish and physical pain that he isn’t even really present at the moment.

Harley rocks Peter back and forth. He runs his fingers through Peter’s hair and kisses his forehead. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I snapped. I just… I care about you so much I got worried.”

“Where are my Dads?”

“I’ll call them right now.” Harley then forces Peter to look at him.”Tell me what you need. Tell me how I can help you.” Peter can’t verbally answer but he simply signals towards his chest. Harley removes his suit and notices the black and blue bruises with dried blood. Harley also notices Peter's greasy hair.

“Let me make you a meal and run you a bath,” Harley whispers into Peter’s hair and hugs him tighter.

While Harley goes to the bathroom, Peter passes out on the floor, finally allowing himself some peace. He doesn’t remember falling asleep. He wakes up to the smell of chicken soup and Harley gently shaking him.

“Hey, the bath’s ready. I called your Dads and they’ll be here in the morning. Also, I talked to Ned. You’re not going tomorrow.” Harley says as he lifts Peter onto his feet and helps him remove his suit.

“Harls, I have to go tomorrow. I have my midterm and I need to give MJ the questions I promised her.” Peter answers.

Harley simply shakes his head. “I say you take it next week, however, if it bothers you that much, after tomorrow you can go. I’m sure Tony can sort that out with your teacher. But you need to take at least a day off. And if the presentation stresses you out that much, I can cover for you.”

Peter should feel relieved but he doesn’t want to give up just yet. He’s done so much to make it through this week, he just wants to see it to the end. “Can we talk about this later?” Peter asks.

He’s down to his boxers and Harley has a full view of the bruises littered all over Peter’s body. Peter can see Harley is fighting the urge to say no, but instead, he simply nods his head and kisses his cheek. “Sure, just go get cleaned up.”

Peter agrees and makes his way to the bathtub. Nice that Harley probably figured Peter can’t stand long enough for a shower.

The water is warm and sends immediate relief throughout his whole body. Peter sinks into the tub and lets the water engulf him. He looks at his body and notices just how severe his injuries are. He should probably have Stephen check those out when he gets back.

After an incredible half hour in the tub, Peter finally gets out. He didn’t realize how much he truly needed that.

He changes into some light PJs and finds Harley by the kitchen island with a bowl of chicken soup.

Peter can't remember the last time he had an actual meal. Harley sat next to him as Peter slowly drank the soup. “So, what about tomorrow?” Harley asks.

Peter checks his phone and realizes it's 10:41 P.M. He had two options: he could either take tomorrow off, or he could suck it up.

“Would you mind helping me study?” He asks. Before Harley protests, Peter cuts him off. “I have my midterm first thing in the morning, after that I’ll have Happy take me home. That lets me give MJ the questions I owe her.” Peter didn’t go through the worst week of his life only to not see it till the end. He was stubborn like that.

Harley didn’t seem to like the idea, but he agreed nonetheless. When Peter finished his soup, they both headed to his room and Harley quizzed him on a few problems. Peter was feeling okay, his anxiety was just through the roof.

They both called it quits at around midnight. Harley crashed on the couch and Peter was out like a light.

He only had two days left. He was so close.

When the morning rolls around, Peter wishes he chose to stay home. He is groggy and tired, but still feeling the best he’s felt all week. He assumes Harley was already up and making him breakfast while he went to shower.

They had both agreed that Peter would skip patrol. He was in no condition to help anyone and would probably just hurt himself again, which isn't helpful to anyone.

To his surprise, however, his Dads were home. He walked into the living room to see Stephen making breakfast (no sign of Harley).

“Good morning,” Peter says as he goes to hug his Dad.

“Hey, Harley told us what happened. Just text us when your exam is over and we’ll come to get you. I also need to check your injuries, Peter.” Stephen said as he lightly tossed Peter’s hair and serves him a small stack of pancakes.

Peter silently hopes Harley didn’t mention the pills.

By the time Peter finished his breakfast, he wanted to vomit. He hadn’t stomached that much food all week and his body was trying to reject it. He holds it down as Tony pulls up to Peter’s school. “Text me the second you’re done. Promise?”

Peter sees the worry in Tony’s eyes and simply nods. He already feels guilty. He doesn’t need the reminder. (Looks like Tony understood that.)

As Peter gets to school, he immediately tracks down MJ. He hands her the questions, doesn’t wait for a thank you, and runs to the bathroom.

He can just feel vomit rising up his throat. His eyes are losing focus and he’s currently heaving over the toilet. “Maybe I should have stayed home,” Peter thinks as he stares into the mirror over the sink. His dark circles are getting worst and his skin is breaking out. He splashes some water on his face and quietly reminds himself that he’s almost done. “Just two more days.”

The bell rings and Peter heads off to his classroom. He’s taking his midterm first thing in the morning and right now, he’s fighting to stay upright.

Almost routine, Peter receives his test and flips it over. He knows he knows the material, he just has test anxiety. The studying he did with Harley definitely helps, so he’s confident he’ll do fine.

He ends up blanking out. He doesn’t remember much of the exam, nor many of the questions. However, he feels lighter, like a weight has been taken off his shoulder.

Peter ends up vomiting in the bathroom.

He’s heaving over the toilet and clinging on for dear life. His throat burns and the aftertaste of his breakfast is in his mouth, with a mixture of acid. He’s drenched in sweat and can’t see straight and he feels a migraine coming on.

Quickly, he texts Tony that he can pick him up. Peter gets off the floor and washes his face in the sink. His face is sickly pale and the lights are blinding him. Out of habit, Peter reaches for his pockets to get a pill, only to realize that he doesn’t have any.

That movement alone scares him.

He’s worried he’s feeling dependent.

When he leaves the bathroom, he quickly tracks down MJ in the library. “MJ, here are the questions I promised you. I’m so sorry they’re so late.” He profusely, but rapidly apologizes to her as he hands her the packet.

She doesn’t even look at them, instead places her hand on his shoulder and looks him in the eyes. “Pete, are you okay?” Just being forced to look at her is giving him a headache. The library lights are a blinding yellow and he can hear noise from the hallway.

“Yeah, just a little headache,” Peter says, but MJ still looks at him with worry. “MJ, I’m fine.” Peter doesn’t even believe in himself. He has that gazed look people have after they vomit their guts out and a small twitch in his eyes due to the lighting.

It seems like she doesn’t believe him either. Before she speaks, before she pities him, Peter runs to the office, knowing Tony will arrive any second.

As he waits in the office, he decides it's better to wait in the bathroom. The office had too many people talking, stapling, and filing. The office had too much noise.

That was the main thing he hated about his powers, his senses were heightened, making his migraines a hundred times worse. He’s on the brink of tears when the receptionist yells out his name to alert him that he’s leaving.

It seems that Tony notices so he doesn’t speak, simply thanks the staff, and ushers him into the car. Tony shuts off the radio and hands Peter a jacket in the backseat. Immediately, Peter covers his eyes and attempts to drift off to sleep. He’s just realizing how tired he is, mentally that is.

The ride home is a much needed break. He only has to get through tomorrow’s AcaDeca practice. (He’s not expecting to stay conscious during class).

When they do eventually arrive at the Tower, Peter can’t stand. His body has completely given out on him. Tony ends up carrying the boy inside and up the elevator to the medical compound.

“Okay, kid, you’re scaring the hell out of me. What happened?” Peter wakes up on one of the medical beds and is met with the horrible blinding lights in his face.

He’s too overwhelmed to talk and simply points to them, silently begging Tony to turn them off. He does, thankfully.

“I took on too much,” Peter says. “Everything just pilled up on the same week, and you guys weren’t there, and I don’t know how to say no..” The tears finally begin to spill as Peter talks. His head is killing him and his body is sworn and the voice in his head is nagging him even more. The look on Tony’s face says it all. Peter let him down, Peter disappointed him, and Peter worried him. “I’m sorry, I thought I could handle it.”

Tony doesn’t answer and simply steps aside as Stephen appears to tend to Peter’s medical needs. He doesn’t say anything, he just stands off to the side and looks at the ground. Peter can’t read his face, he can’t tell what's going on in his head. Is he angry? Upset? Not knowing is somewhat worse.

When Stephen finishes, he tells Peter that he’s simply dehydrated and only has a few bruises, nothing extreme. Seems like most of his injuries were healed due to his enhanced abilities.

No one says anything. They all look at each other and quietly leave for their own spaces. Peter can’t muster the courage to tell them what happened. Right now, he just wants the ground to swallow him whole. Peter makes it to his room, takes a much needed shower, and tries to sleep. He’s awakened, however, by Tony at his door with a plate of food.

“Oh, thanks but I’m not really-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Tony coldly states and Peter shuts up. He hands Peter the plate and Peter realizes he isn’t leaving until Tony sees him clean the plate.

Reluctantly, Peter ate. His body needed to get used to consuming food on a regular schedule, not just every other day. When Peter finishes, he hands Tony the plate and apologies once again.

Tony doesn’t say anything, instead reaches over and kisses his forehead.

The next morning is a little better. Peter feels well-rested and his stomach isn’t doing flips. (He’s happy he kept his food down this time.)

He knows today his only task is to make it through the AcaDeca training (which would be easy, as he made the questions), and make it through his internship presentation. That alone takes the pressure off him, with a bonus that it’s Friday. Peter desperately needed the weekend.

He doesn’t even bother changing out of his pajama pants. He just throws on a hoodie and walks out the door. When he gets to school, it seems like MJ and Ned plotted to corner him. They both catch him in his usual corner and block any exits. “Pete, you gotta talk to us. Are you okay?” Ned starts out sweetly.

“Yeah, you look like a bus hit you on the way here,” said MJ. He laughs at her bluntness but assures them that everything is okay. (It’s not, but he thinks he’s getting better)

Today is just about staying awake- if he can even manage that. His migraine is still lingering and the school bells still hurt, but he thinks he’ll be okay.

Peter is proven wrong the minute he sits at his desk. Once he’s in his chair, his head is on the desk and he’s out cold. His body is catching up on the sleep he’s missed all week. No one bothers to wake him up, and if they did, Peter didn’t notice. Today marks the first day Peter slept in every class. Usually, he’d chug coffee to keep himself awake, but today he just couldn’t find the strength.

Every time the bells ring to switch classes, he’s violently jolted awake. Some teachers tried to check up on him, however, Peter still refuses any help and claims he’s okay.

When the final bell rings, Peter is beyond overjoyed. (No more loud bells in his ears.) He quickly makes his way to the auditorium for the AcaDeca training and throws himself into a chair.

Slowly, the rest of the team makes their way inside and immediately, “Parker, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Flash speaks up. And Peter can’t even be mad, he knows he looks awful. Flash saw him completely passed out in chemistry and history. Thankfully, MJ shuts him down and begins the training.

As MJ begins reading out questions to the team, Peter gets a text on his phone.

Harls: Hey, hope you’re feeling a bit better. The presentation got moved to 7 tonight, btw. Xx

3:56 P.M.

With a sigh of relief, Peter relaxes a bit and is able to focus on the training. While most of it was pretty easy, given that he made the questions, MJ threw in some surprise ones as well. The team discussed strategies and tactics, but Peter didn’t really listen. He patiently waited for the MJ to call the meeting to an end before he bolted out the door.

Tony was already outside the school. He’s patiently waiting in what appears to be Happy’s car. Peter hops in and just slumps into the seat. “Remind me to never take on any more responsibilities,” he says as he throws his bag into the backseat.

Tony laughs and replies, ‘Kid, you and I both know that you need to learn to say no. It’s about you taking on too much- well, partially that- but it’s also that you take on extra when you can easily say no.”

Peter thinks about that for a moment before responding, “Well, what am I supposed to do? I can’t just say no to someone in need.” By now, Tony is pulling onto the road as Peter leans his head against the window. “That’s true, just be mindful of those who need help and those who are taking advantage of you. Remember, put on your own oxygen mask before helping others.”

What Tony says rings true, and Peter sits with it for a bit. Maybe people are taking advantage of him. Or maybe he just took on too much. Right now, Peter is too exhausted to figure out which one applies to his current situation.

Eventually, Peter allows himself to close his eyes, finally allowing himself a moment of peace. (Sleeping on school desks is never comfortable, ignore if anyone tells you otherwise.) As he lays back against the seats, with the soothing hum of the car, Peter drifts off to sleep.

When they arrive at the Tower, Tony isn’t sure whether or not to wake Peter. It looks like he’s finally comfortable and finally resting. However, one quick glance at the clock and he knows Peter would be upset if he didn’t wake him up in time to review for his presentation. “Hey,” Tony starts gently shaking Peter, “We’re home. It’s 4:30 P.M. Figured you and Harley would want some time to prep for tonight, and maybe even have some dinner before.”

Peter musters up all the strength he was to get up and make his way out of the car. He thanks Tony and sluggishly drags himself to the lab. The bright lights from the Tower and the constant jostling are enough to wake him up a tad, but he’s still rather dazed.

As he enters the lab, Peter is met with Harley and his team all frantically reviewing. Harley is pointing at people and assigning roles as he catches a glimpse that Peter arrived. “-And you, get Peter a coffee, please!” The intern runs off and quickly returns with a cup of expresso for Peter.

“Alright, what do we need to go over,” Peter says as he takes a sip of his drink- and suddenly he feels much more awake. Harley begins running down everything they’ve covered. Who will be discussing the prompt, the robot, the calculations, and its real-world implications. “We just need someone to finalize the posters. Do you have the files, Peter?”

Peter nods, taking another sip of his expresso. (He can feel his entire body shaking.) “Yeah, I got them. Just to clarify, it’s one poster showing the rendered robot, another showing the entire crew, and one more for the overview and prompt?” Harley nods as Peter sets off to work in the corner. He and the team had agreed that he would begin the presentation and introduce their design, leaving the math to the other interns and Harley, who was far more awake and present. Peter quickly notices that he’s drank all of his expresso, and goes off to get more. His body is shaking and he feels dizzy, but he needs to stay awake. He just needs to make it through tonight.

Opening his computer, Peter finalizes all the posters and sends them down to the printing lab. He takes it as his excuse to get up and walk around, making sure his legs don’t fall asleep. He starts looking over all the reports, research, and calculations they did, and everything looks good. However, you can never be too sure.

Harley seems to be stressed out of his mind. “Okay, we start in an hour. Anything else we need to get done?” he frantically asks the group. After a series of ‘no’, Peter mentions that he’s going to pick up the posters and bring them up and that it should be the final thing they need. Harley lets out a sigh of relief and opts to join Peter as they both head downstairs.

The ride down the elevator is calming. Peter takes it as his chance to drop his head onto Harley’s shoulder. To this, Harley brings up his hand and begins playing with Peter’s hair. “I’m so tired..: Peter says, mumbling into his shoulders, The expresso is making him shake and he refuses to drink more, genuinely concerned for his health. “I know. You just need to do this one last thing, then you’re free.” Harley says as he places a light kiss on Peter’s head before they step put the elevator. Thankfully, the printing lab was empty. Both boys quickly gather the posters and then stand there for a moment.

“You know, I’m really sorry I snapped at you,” Harley says quietly. He’s looking down at the floor and won’t look up. “I was just so scared, I’m sorry if I made it worse.”

“No, no you didn’t.” Peter starts, “Yeah, it hurt, but I needed the reality check. I was so far in my own head that I didn’t realize what exactly I was doing. I didn’t consider how it’d affect me, or you…” Peter replies. They both look up and meet each others’ eyes. Peter notices the beginning of tears forming in Harley’s eyes and he makes his way over to catch them before they fall.

“I had a stumble. I’m…” and Peter wants to say that he’s okay, but he doesn’t want to lie anymore. He wants to fall over. He wants to cry. He wants to go to bed. “I’m getting help,” he concludes. Harley nods in approval of that statement and makes his way to kiss Peter’s foreahead. I’m just happy you’re okay,” He whispers.

Peter smiles and after a few seconds of enjoying each others embrace, they pull apart and begin to head back upstairs. By now, it’s 6:17 P.M., and Peter chooses to get a meal and a shower in before he presents. He is fighting to stay awake, as the espresso is wearing off and he can feel himself crashing soon.

After a quick warm shower, Peter finds himself a plate of food waiting for him at the table. Stephen is in the kitchen cleaning dishes when he noticies Peter. “Hey, I saved you a plate. Nervous?”

Peter immediately begins to scarf down the food. He feels slightly more refreshed after the shower, however the food finally makes him feel complete. His stomach is no longer growling and he’s not so light headed anymore. After a little small talk with Stephen, Peter feels a little more relaxed. They fall into a casual conversation, delicately avoiding the topic of Peter’s situation. He’s thankful, truly. He feels guilty enough and hearing about how it hurrt those around him just makes him feel worse.

By now, its 6:48 P.M. and Harley comes rushing into the kitchen. Without forming a coherent sentence, Peter understands what Harley is trying to say. “Robot. Present. Prep. Now.” Immediately, they both get up and begin bolting to the lab. In the distance, they hear Stephen wish them good luck.

The reason they were both so stressed was because of their reputations. It meant the expectations were even higher. These weren’t scientist that were just impressed because Peter was related to Tony Stark, these are people who couldn’t give less of a shit about Tony’s fame. However, they took it into account when setting the expectation.

When they make it to the lab, the other interns are also franctincally reviewing flash cards and pacing around the room. Peter luckily didn’t need to prepare for much, he just reviewed the outline of the introduction. Instead, he opted for drinking more espresso, trying to make it through the final push. His reward after this would be a long awaited nap.

As the scientist enter the room, Peter escapes into his safe space. If it was nay other day, he’d be fully present and in the moment, which might have caused an anxiety attack. However, Peter is just too tired to give a fuck. He disappears into his safe space and puts on his confident persona.

He goes trough the overview and introduction smoothly. Not really remembering where he is, just that he’s talking. Peter isn’t even present in the moment when the team begins to discuss the calcutioans and revisions they went through.

Peter only snaps back to reality when the board claps and congratulations them. Their faces ins’t giving anything away, he can;t tell if they’re disappointed or impressed. But honestly, he doesn’t care.

They end up finishing at 9:51 P.M. and Peter is beat. He can hardly stand up straight, and Harley is supporting his every step. When they finally making it to his bedroom, Peter dones;t even bother to get under the sheets. He falls onto his bed and the minute his head hits the mattress, he is out like a light.

Harley chuckles at the sight and draps a blanket over Peter, before kissing his forehead. Peter finally gets a break after, what he considers to be, the worst week of his life.

End.

Reposting the fic I posted here a few months ago. Wanna get into formatting more on tumblr!