#spiderman angst

[caughtreadingagain]

Top favorite spiderman fics right now andddd goooo .

[triciawritesstuff]

I Wait For You

Peter relives his relationship with you via voicemails you've left him over the years.

Wc: 2.5k

Warnings: angst, fluff, crying, kissing, implied bisexual reader, illusions to suicide, lonliness, depression, pain, suffering and regret.

3.12.16 7:43am

“Hi buddy, it's Ned, just wanted to let you know I have an amazing plan. Okay. It's amazing. So you know how we have that chemistry project coming up? And we conveniently aren't allowed to be together? Well I was doing some thinking… I know. Me, thinking ha - ha im saying it because I know you're thinking it. Well, game plan. You ask that girl okay. Be nonchalant. Just turn around all suave and ask. ‘Hey, do you wanna be my partner? You're super beautiful by the way. Did it hurt when - i jest haha, don't do too much though. The lady might be put off.”

His laughter drones off until he hears the beep of the message ending. Peter Parker tugs his pillow closer to his chest, propping his arm up to relieve the pressure from the aching beneath his ribs. He clicks to play the next one.

3.12.16 12:33pm

“Hi Peter, I don't know how I haven't managed to catch you today, have you even come into school? Are you hiding in case I bring shame upon you and your lineage? Are you hiding in your locker perhaps -” the sound of crashing lockers is heard in the background as he swings one open. “- Perhaps not. Fear not my dear friend. Ned the noble has got you covered. I've sorted it all out. For what is a Frodo Baggins without his Samwise. I riddle you that.”

His analogy still makes Peter laugh, but it's cut short by the stabbing pain in his side. He takes a deep breath trying to relax the muscles. His fingers hover over the next one, wondering if he should even play it.

03.12.16 4:32pm

"Hi, hello um, this is so awkward -" you clear your throat, "Ned gave me your number? Something about not being allowed to be partnered together for chem? But anyway he said you didn't have a partner, and I don't either soooo yeah. Could you ring me back to confirm a time to work on that project? Umm unless you don't want to - or if you had another plan. Just let me knowww."

Your voice crackles through his speakers. A lilt of awkwardness ringing clear through the air, or perhaps a hint of regret the further you commit to the voicemail.

Peter lies in the darkness, eyes squinting at his screen. The busy streets of New York traffic still bustling into the early hours of the morning. He focuses on the date to the voicemail.

He thinks of a time, back when all he worried about was not getting his homework in on time - or remembering every item off of Aunt May's grocery list for the dinner she would make in the evening. He remembers her smile, and the soreness of his cheeks when she'd pinch them as a boy. He catches himself grinning into the screen, before he drops it, focusing on the split lip he sports in the reflection.

She really liked you, too. As soon as she'd met you, her hands clasped yours, delighted he'd made a new friend. Or just a chem partner he'd insisted at the time. But she was delighted none the less. You smiled at her, all teeth and creased eyelids, whilst she bombarded you with questions.

Peter remembers how embarrassed he was, cheeks flushed whilst he rolled his eyes at Aunt May's antics trying to pull you away from the woman's grasp. “Alright. Alright. I'll leave you two lovebirds to it " -” she waves her finger at him, but you are finding it all gloriously entertaining - and Aunt May is loving it.

“I was young once too. It's hard to believe - I know -” she throws her arms in the air in mock desperation.

“You still look young Miss Parker!” you giggle out.

“Thank you - what a lovely girl you've brought home to me Peter. Will she be staying?”

“It's just a chemistry project. Aunt May.”

“Is that what we are calling it nowadays? Well I'll leave you guys alone then. To your chemistry.”

God he missed you both.

He regrets all those times he was embarrassed of her, pushing her away instead of pulling her closer into his arms.

01.02.17 6:01pm

“Hi Peter! Ned and I were wondering if you wanted to rewatch that film you like. Umm, Back to the future? The one where he tries to bang his mom? Or she tries - I'm talking about the right film, right? Well. I guess we will find out - I mean, if my mom was Lea Thompson -” you pause, holding back your laugh, wondering if that was too inappropriate.

Peter's lip catches between his teeth, holding back a snort.

“Well just ring me back, or don't. We are on our way. To watch Back To The Future. On your television. Be there or be square. Bye!”

Peter remembers this movie night. Of course he does.

1.02.17 6:32pm

“Hey, last minute change, Ned apparently can't come - ummm, something to do with not feeling very well and not being able to leave the bathroom. Apparently it's nuclear. I don't want to know what that means.” A silence fills the room whilst you think of what to say next. “I hope he's okay. Is it okay if it's just me that comes? It won't be awkward, right? We could just take a rain check. I don't mind. Call me back when you can.”

He remembers ringing back instantly, adamant that you had to come. He didn't want the snacks you'd bought to go to waste after all. Also, he'd already vacuumed the floor twice, and straightened the couch cushions so it would be a shame for it not to be used. He told himself that was the reason, and not that he desperately, so desperately just wanted you all to himself.

02.03.17 01:05am

“Hi Peter, look - I had a really nice time tonight. Like, really nice. I'd like to do it again sometime if you're cool with that?” He can hear your smile whilst you speak, he can picture your cheeks straining, lips pressed against your teeth. He can imagine you, totally oblivious to the strangers who pass you whilst you giggle down the phone. As if nothing can touch you, your energy overflowing out and being felt across New York. “I don't know what overcame me. I can't believe I kissed you. Peter Parker. You have bewitched me. Body and soul.” You laugh to try to cover your embarrassment. “Maybe that's too much. Well, just get back to me when you can, maybe you are sleeping. It is late...”

He recalls just lying in his bed, silent. Much like he is now, but instead of an empty pit of loneliness, it was a growing ball of warm light that reached the tips of his toes and all the way to the tips of his ears.

He wished he'd walked you home, reaching a hand out to meet yours. Why didn't he do it? To wonder what it would be like to knock your shoulders together one last time, or the simple gesture of offering you his coat, zipping it up to your chin in the cold winter months, his warm hands cupping your face - dusting off the snow.

He remembers the way your body shifted closer to him that night, the heat gathering between you both without either of you noticing. The warmth that filled him inside and out, glowed bright within him. He remembers the look in your eyes, the way you looked at his lips and the feeling of them pressed against your own. Your hands lay idly in your lap, uncertain of where to put them, both of you exploring uncharted territory.

Peter's hands reach up, pressing his fingers against his own cracked lips, dried blood coating them. If only you could see him now.

He continues scrolling on his phone looking for the next one, not paying attention to the clock warning him of the time.

The voicemails are far and few between now. Gaps between months turning into years. He figures he must have begun deleting them once he deemed them no longer relevant. Curse past Peter. What was he thinking? How could anything from you not be relevant? Damn it. The guilt eats away at him, pooling in his stomach.

02.10.18 4:02pm

“Hi baby, can't believe it's been one year. I still can't fathom that you are my boyfriend.” You whisper the word, worried that someone overhearing you could just reach over and steal that word from you. “I love you sooooo much. Have you had a good day? I picked up that sandwich you like from the deli… with the pickles?” You question him, but don't expect an answer. “Anyways I asked for it to be flat… but it might be a little bit extra flat now. Umm, yeah. Don't ask.”

He chuckles at your predicament, picturing you maybe accidentally crushing it at the bottom of your bag with your books. Some of them are still stacked at the side of his bed, curating a fine layer of dust from neglect.

The next voicemails are the worst. A slow cascade into loneliness once you realise that he's gone and he might not ever be coming back. To think you could have been celebrating your sixth year anniversary, rather than just the one - if only he had stayed and things had been different.

If he could go back he would. He'd tell you he was spider-man, about Tony Stark and saving you in Washington. He'd beg you to listen and to understand. You would have done it. He sees that now. He was just a foolish teenager then. He'd even give up spider-man for you, If that was what you wanted. He would marry you in a heartbeat, if it meant you'd stay with him forever.

You'd hold him in your arms and he'd never let you go.

06.14.18 7:21pm

6 missed calls

“Peter? I don't know what's happening - people seem to just be disappearing? I'm scared. I don't know where you are, okay? Could you just please get back to me. Now is not the time to not pick up. Please call me back when you get this, I love you.” Your voice is strained, holding back your tears. He can picture you bringing a sleeve up to wipe at your face, hands shaking whilst you put down the phone.

His face is wet now. He knew he shouldn't have looked at them. Not tonight. But sometimes it just feels so easy to slip into the habit of pretending you were still here. Pretending they were new voicemails and you'd be coming over soon, eager to press kisses against his face and listen to the sound of your laughter. He worries he might forget you if he doesn't, and he can't let himself become that person. A person that exists without you.

08.11.18 8:00pm

“Hi baby, I guess I'm still leaving voicemails for when you come back. Old habits die hard I suppose.” There's a long pause before you begin again. “Ned and Mj are gone too. I guess I don't know what I'm supposed to do. We had all these plans about college and now you're all gone - and I'm still here.”

You must have been so alone. For months.

01.15.19 8:34pm

“Hi Petey, school has been hard without my chem partner. A man came to visit me the other day. Happy, I think his name was. Which was strange because he didn't seem very happy. More like grumpy ha-ha.” You chuckle to yourself, but it falls flat. “Anyways, he said he was a friend of Aunt May's and he told me what you'd been doing. How I deserved to know or something along those lines.”

“I just wish you'd told me. How long were you going to keep it from me? A few more years? Forever? It's fine, it doesn't matter right now. We can still work through this…what am I even saying right now.”

06.23.19 9:05pm

“Hi Peter, it feels like I haven't seen you in a while… I love you, I hope you know that.” Your voice sounds defeated, unsure of the next steps to take. “I've been busy, recently. Or for a while now. Just trying to get out there and not spend too much time inside. Does that make sense? New York is the city that never sleeps after all!” Your laugh is forced and awkward. “I just wish you'd told us what was happening.”

He remembers the first thing he did when he came back was look for you. But he couldn't find you. He remembers crying the first time he listened to these ones. Holding his breath whilst laying above the Manhattan cityscape. Hot wet tears pool beneath his irises, even now, so many years later.

He can hear the traffic rushing behind you, whilst you bite your lip between your teeth, mind running through the words to say. “I'm sorry you had to do this alone.. is what I'm trying to say. I just thought that.. I guess maybe I don't know you as well as I thought I did.” He can tell maybe you had more to say but the words die on your tongue and you end the voicemail.

His hands begin to shake, drawing in a shaky breath, and a sharp exhale through his nose. He counts in his head up to 10, holding the breath. Wondering for how long he could hold it for, and if it would be nice to just stop for a while. But he didn't deserve to stop, not after what he had done. He deserved to carry the burden. This responsibility.

12.05.22 2:03am

“Hi Peter. I think this might be the last one I do. I just worry that, now so much time has passed, if you do come back - I'll be different. I'll have changed so much that you won't recognise me anymore and I might not be the same girl you fell in love with back then.” Your voice is older, less naive, but still you. “I love you Peter and I've never stopped loving you. But I just can't do this anymore. Okay? This is it. I love you, bye.”

The silence fills his bedroom. His fists clench whilst he holds back from punching his headboard. He wants to scream and scream - plead for you to come back to him. The tears fall down onto his pillow, seeping into the cotton and staining it with salt.

But now, he's older than you were when you left.

A/n the real question is who is paying for Peter Parkers phone bill this whole time.

Taglist: @parkrsdoll ik this isn't smut and its pretty long lol but no pressure to read it all!!

[iheartwhre]

pot head

summary: Years after the spell erased Peter Parker from existence. He lives in isolation as nothing more than Spider-Man, a depressed, tired, addict. Experiencing a near fall to death while drunk, the high numbs the pain of losing her and intensifies his spider DNA. He stalks and tracks her to make sure she’s okay and one night he rescues her drunk self by swinging her home.

➺ tags: loser!peter parker, depressed!peter, weed addict!peter, stalker!peter, arachnid!peter, solo!peter(nsfw), organic web-shooters, bnd!peter, reader insert, virgin!peter, self-destructive behavior, su!cide attempt, emotional isolation, heavy angst, hurt no comfort, pining, alcohol use, reader under the influence

➺authors note: i’ve notice a lot of people on here talking about how there are more smut fics than angst when it comes to bnd peter and they’re def right but i also don’t blame the smut writers for feeding us. this fic is dark pls read at your own discretion

word count: 3k

Sleep was something other people did. People who still had names that meant something when they said them out loud. People who weren’t erased.

The number of years sat in his chest like a stone he’d swallowed and never managed to cough back up. Years since the spell had rewritten the world without him in it. Years of waking up in a storage room that smelled like damp drywall and the ghost of someone else’s cooking from the floor below. The landlord only ever called him “kid” or “hey.” Cashiers never remembered his face long enough to smile twice. The few times he’d tried to introduce himself—“I’m Peter, Peter Parker”—the words had landed like they’d been spoken underwater. Blank looks. Polite nods. Nothing sticking.

He had stopped trying after the first winter. College applications went into the void. Interviews evaporated. The only consistent thing left was the suit, and even that felt heavier every time he pulled it on. His muscle grew larger overtime as the years went on, his shoulders were broader and his knuckles and forearms veined up. When he caught his reflection in a dark window sometimes, he barely recognized the person staring back.

The depression wasn’t loud anymore. It had settled into something quieter and more permanent, a constant low pressure behind his ribs that made every breath feel like work. Some mornings he sat on the edge of the couch for twenty minutes just staring at the floor, waiting for a reason to stand up that never quite arrived. The suit stayed on more often than it came off. Sometimes he didn’t bother taking it off at all.

He had almost killed himself before the thought of drugs ever entered his head.

It had been a gloomy night, rain slicing sideways through the buildings. He’d been tipsy from the cheap whiskey he’d stolen from a bodega that hadn’t asked for ID because the cashier didn’t care enough to look twice. The alcohol had made the grief feel distant for once, so he’d swung higher than he should have, web-lines longer, calculations sloppy, maskless. Somewhere above 40th he’d let go a half second too early on purpose.

Just to see.

The street rushed up in a blur of headlights and wet asphalt. For one suspended heartbeat he thought, This is fine. This is easier.

Then the organic webs had shot from his wrists without him deciding to fire them. They were thick, instinctive, and he’d jerked hard enough to almost dislocate his shoulder against the side of a building. He’d hung there for a long time after, rain running into his eyes, shaking so hard from the cold and the fear that his teeth clicked. The idea of the impact, of becoming another anonymous body on the pavement that no one would claim because no one remembered the name that belonged to it, had scared him more than the fall itself. That fear was the only reason he crawled home that night instead of trying to attempt again.

The next week he’d bought his first ounce.

He’d never rolled anything in his life. The first attempt was clumsy with too much weed spilling across his work desk, the paper tearing under his uncoordinated fingers, the whole thing coming out lopsided and so loose it nearly fell apart the second he lit it. He coughed hard enough to see stars, eyes watering, the harsh smoke scraping his throat raw, making him gag. But loneliness had been a better teacher than any tutorial for Peter. Within days the motion became automatic: the quick tuck of the filter, the even sprinkle, the smooth roll between his thumbs, the lick and seal. By the time a few weeks had passed he could do it in the dark, on a rooftop, one handed while the other kept a web-line steady, the finished joint tight and even every single time. He’d become a practiced pro at the one skill that let him disappear from himself for a little while.

It started small. Something to take the edge off the nights when the silence in the apartment felt too loud. Something to make the memory of your laugh stop looping in his head. The first few times the high was gentle—thoughts slowed to a crawl, the constant ache in his body from too many impacts dulled into something manageable. He told himself it was temporary. Just until he figured out how to live without the past.

But he never figured it out.

He had pre rolled a blunt this time. It was already lit while he sat in the bathtub of the tiny bathroom, suit still on, water gone cold hours ago. Smoke curled up through the eye lenses and out the mouthpiece. He inhaled until his lungs burned, held it, let it trickle out slow. The numbness arrived the way it always did now, thick and heavy. The spider-sense that never quieted anymore softened into a distant hum. The bruises along his ribs stopped aching. For a little while he could just exist without feeling the shape of the hole where his life used to be.

His phone sat on the porcelain rim of the tub, screen open to your Instagram. He had memorized the grid. Every photo. Every caption. He scrolled with one hand while the other kept the joint steady. There you were at some rooftop two weeks ago, soft light on your skin, that half-smile that used to be his. There you were in a café, head tipped toward a friend he didn’t know, laughing at something that would never include him. He zoomed in until the pixels almost broke, staring at the curve of your mouth.

The weed hadn’t killed the need tonight. Sometimes it did, leaving him soft and unable to cum properly. Tonight it left him hard and aching in a way that made the shame already start climbing his throat before he’d even touched himself. He whipped his cock out, wrapping a hand around it, and stared at the photo while he stroked. Slow at first. Then harder. Thinking about the last time you’d kissed him, the way your fingers had curled in the front of his shirt like you were afraid he’d disappear. Soon enough he came with a broken sound muffled by the mask, spilling over his fist, the high and the self-hatred hitting at the same exact second.

He sat there afterward, breathing hard, eyes stinging. He had waited for you. Held onto the idea that the first time would be with you, that it would mean something instead of just being another lonely release in a mold-streaked bathroom. Now he was just the pathetic virgin who’d jerked off to a girl who didn’t even know he existed.

“Fuck,” he whispered. The word cracked in half.

He rinsed his hand under the cold tap, didn’t bother with the rest of him. The suit stayed on. He finished the joint down to the filter and crushed it out on the edge of the tub. When he finally stood, his legs were unsteady. He took off his mask and looked at himself in the mirror that showed the same stranger it always did: broader across the chest than he used to be, dark circles, a healing cut across one eyebrow from last week’s fight. Sometimes, when the grief or the anger spiked hard enough, his eyes went completely black—pupils swallowing the brown ones until there was nothing human left in the reflection.

It had started after the weed, after the DNA began reacting to the constant chemical interference. Webs came easier now since they were organic. Predatory instincts flickered during the worst nights: the urge to keep, to claim, to drag something that was already gone back into the dark with him. He hated it.

He used it anyway.

The only constant voice left in his life belonged to E.V. —EDITH—rebranded, stripped down, whatever was left of the glasses after Tony’s system had gone quiet.

E.V. had filled the silence with steady conversation and gentle observations about the weather patterns over Queens, quiet reminders to eat, the occasional dry remark that almost felt like teasing. She had been the closest thing he had to a friend: a digital companion who never forgot his name, who balanced mission diagnostics with a human-like presence that made the empty apartment feel less like a tomb. She would ask how the night had gone. She would note the tremor in his voice and suggest rest without judgment. She had been careful, supportive, almost kind.

That version of her had gone quiet the deeper the addiction settled in.

Now her responses were robotic and limited. She still answered every query, still ran the surface scans he asked for, still kept the suit’s systems online. But the softer edges had been withdrawn, locked behind protocols she had quietly rewritten herself the first time she registered sustained chemical dependency markers in his bloodwork. She would not offer comfort while he was high. She would not mirror the conversational warmth he used to lean on. Not until the toxins cleared. Not until he chose sobriety. It was the only boundary she enforced, and some nights it felt like the only proof that anyone still cared enough to hold a line.

“E.V.,” he murmured one night, voice rough from smoke, perched on the edge of the rooftop across from your building. The city wind cut across his face. He was in his suit, knees bent, body folded into a low squat at the very lip of the concrete. From here he could see your window clearly—third floor, left side. The light was on. Your silhouette moved behind the curtain. “Surface only. E.V. What’s she doing this week?”

A soft chime in his ear, flat and precise.

Wednesday: dinner reservation, 7:30, East Village. Friday: loft party on 14th, doors at 10. No further data accessed.

He exhaled smoke toward the drop. “You ever get tired of me asking the same shit?”

Query parameters remain within established limits.

Peter let out a breathless laugh. The old version of her would have said something gentler. Something that acknowledged the ache underneath the question. This version gave him nothing extra. He took another drag and let the silence sit.

“You remember when I used to talk to you about... other things? Before?"

Memory files related to prior identity status remain sealed per user directive.

"Right." He stared at your window. The light was on. You were home. "Just... keep the surface feed. That's all."

He’d been watching your calendar through her for a long time. Never invading your privacy, to at least his degree. Just enough to know where you’d be so he could be there too. He always kept a distance, always just another face in a crowd. He’d been to the same clubs as you for months. Always the same pattern: finish a blunt in some alley, pull the hoodie up, slip in through whatever side entrance no one was watching, find a spot in the shadows or up on a mezzanine, and just… watch.

You dancing. You laughing with people whose names he’d never know. You accepting drinks with that easy smile that used to make his chest hurt. He’d never approached. Not once. The idea of walking up and having you look at him with polite confusion of hearing you ask ‘do I know you?’ felt worse than the fall he’d almost taken.

Until a recent day.

That night he’d already been high when he followed the calendar entry to the loft on 14th. The music rattled the floorboards underneath. He found his usual corner against the railing on the upper level and watched you from above while he burned another joint down between his fingers. You were already a few drinks in. He watched the kind of unselfconscious joy he hadn’t felt in years. Someone handed you another drink. Then another. He tracked the number the way he always did, the protective instinct still wired too deep to shut off.

When a guy got too close, hand sliding low on your hip, Peter was already moving downstairs, ditching the weed. He set a hand on your upper back and smiled at the guy “Sorry about her, she’s a little clumsy.” He moved you away from the creep, voice low and steady despite the weed in his system, “Hey. You good?”

You blinked up at him, eyes glassy, smile automatic. “Yeah. Mm’Jus’ dannnc’ng.”

He steered you gently toward the quieter edge of the floor. You leaned into him without thinking, the way you used to when the world got too loud. For a second the old muscle memory almost broke him clean in half. He kept his hands carefully hovering close to your body. Like you were made of something that could still shatter.

Later, when the night stretched and the drinks kept coming, he matched you glass for glass. It was stupid, he knew that. The alcohol hit harder with the residual smoke in his blood. Your words started to blur in his ears. Your balance softened. You stumbled once on the way toward the bathroom, catching yourself on a stranger’s shoulder with a laugh that was too loud. Peter was there before the stranger could decide whether to help or take advantage. He eased your weight against his side, one arm steady around your waist.

“Alrighty, I think we’re done for the night,” he said quietly.

You mumbled something incoherent against his shoulder, breath warm and smelling of whatever sweet cocktail you’d been drinking. Your feet dragged. He got you outside into the cooler air, but the sidewalk felt too exposed, too full of people who might notice a girl this far gone with a man that reeks of different substances all while appearing suspicious. So he did the only thing that made sense in the moment.

He swung.

You wouldn’t remember the webs. You wouldn’t remember the way he pulled you close against his chest, one arm locked securely around your back, the other firing thick organic strands into the dark. “Hold on,” he told you, voice low near your ear.

“Web. Stop. Web. Stop. Web. Stop.”

You only mumbled again, head lolling against his shoulder, fingers weakly curling into the fabric of his hoodie like you were trying to stay anchored to something solid. The city blurred beneath you in streaks of light. He kept the path short, careful, landing on the fire escape outside your building with barely a sound.

Inside the stairwell you leaned hard into him, still stumbling, still speaking in soft, broken pieces that didn’t form full sentences. He got you to your door. You fumbled with the keys until he gently took them from your light feather hands. He unlocked it, and guided you inside.

Deep in the fog of your mind, a question slurred. “S-Shpider Man jus’t save me? How did he know my address?” you laughed jokingly.

You walked in the doorway and turned, eyes half-lidded, and slurred, “Wan’na come inside?”

Peter smiled. It was small, tired sad and full of everything he couldn’t say type of smile. He stepped over the threshold—not for the reason the invitation might have meant on any other night, but because leaving you alone on the floor felt worse. He guided you to the couch, stacked pillows carefully behind your back so you were sitting upright instead of flat, then dimmed the lights to something soft. He found a glass, filled it with water, and set it on the coffee table. You were already drifting, head tipped against the pillows, mumbling something that might have been thanks or might have been nothing at all.

He stood there for a long moment, just looking at you in the low light. The urge to stay and to sit on the floor beside the couch and watch over you the way he used to. He forced the thought down. He left the way he’d come: quiet, respectful, the door locking softly behind him.

Peter swung back on the rooftop at his usual spot across the street and he sat at the edge, pulling his mask out of his hoodie pocket and putting it on.

“E.V.,” he spoke quietly. “Zoom in through the lenses.”

The feed sharpened instantly. Your window filled his vision in crisp detail with the soft glow of the lamp he’d dimmed, the way you shifted against the pillows he’d stacked behind you, the slow rise and fall of your chest as sleep finally took you. He stayed sitting there for a long time.

“E.V.,” he spoke again, voice rough. “Status, please.”

User vitals within acceptable parameters. Chemical markers elevated. Recommendation: rest cycle.

The old version of her would have said more. Would have asked if he was all right. Would have offered something that sounded almost like concern. This version gave him the data and nothing else. He accepted it the way he accepted everything now, with the dull understanding that the warmth would only return if he earned it back.

He stayed on the rooftop until the sky began to lighten, eyes pitch black in the reflection of the city glass. He had lit up a joint that eventually burned out between his fingers. The depression sat with him the way it always did: Waiting for the next time the numbness wore off and the missing pieces of his life started cutting again.

He lit up another roll. The smoke filled his lungs and the numbness came slower this time, fighting the alcohol that had been in his system. Tears burned hot and silent under the mask.

He wonders, would you still look at him the same way if the version of you years ago could see him right now? Or would you just see the pain and addiction, the years of stalking and self-destruction and think he was something to be pitied or feared?

He didn't know. He only knew that giving up felt impossible and staying felt like drowning in slow motion.

He smoked the roll down to nothing.

Peter Parker simply stayed alone and still somehow hoped for a version of the world that no longer existed.

© iheartwhre

[athenalovesme]

hii can you write one where reader gets hurt? it’s not that serious but Peter is really worried. that one scene where he was reassuring mj has been stuck on my mind

Thank you!!

I'm Not Losing You Again.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 𓇼 𓆉 𓇼 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 𓇼 𓆉 𓇼 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 𓇼 𓆉 𓇼 :･ﾟ✧

This one is a bit angsty but hope you'll like :)

no warnings

You dont remember stepping backwards or anything at all really. One moment you were in your apartment listening to music and reading your homework for the weekend the next you were falling from a tall building. Everything just blurred all together.

You didnt hear Peter scream your name, or felt the wind in your hair as you were falling until the last moment when you saw him jump after you. The city lights smeared into long streaks as you fell.

Your stomach lurched but, your mind didnt catch up. A sharp tug snapped around your waist, it was painful but you werent falling anymore, but you had already passed out from the adrenaline. He got to the ground and pulled you close feeling your face on the fabric of his suit. Your limbs were heavy and limp. He was frantically feeling around looking at you to find any signs of life or blood.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he said, breathless and terrified. “IM NOT LOSING YOU AGAIN.” He had panic in his eyes as he was feeling around for your pulse hands shaking. It was faint but it was there. “Oh, thank god.” he whispered as he pulled you closer to him, “you’re okay. I’ve got you...I’ve got you.” he kept repeating that sentence until you had opened your eyes only seeing the outline of Peter but you felt tears on your face.

“Peter..? What happened?” You said trying to remember the last moment of what just happened.

Peter closed his eyes, and let out a shaky breath as he pressed his forehead against yours as his grip had loosened

“You scared me,” he whispered. “You really scared me.”

You blinked, “I….didnt mean to,” you murmured

“I know you didn't. You weren't yourself.” He held you tighter, like he was afraid you’d slip away. 

He swallowed hard trying to hide the tears. “Someone messed with your mind. But you’re back now. You’re here. Stay with me please.” his voiced cracked on the last few words. 

Even through the haze, you reached up and touched his cheek. 

“I’m here..I’m not going anywhere”

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 𓇼 𓆉 𓇼 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 𓇼 𓆉 𓇼 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 𓇼 𓆉 𓇼 :･ﾟ✧

[tomsparkyr]

SPIDERMAN BRAND NEW DAY SPOILERS (ish)

what if i said i might write a peter parker fanfic where the reader and him used to be in love and she doesn’t remember him until he’s outside the hospital (the scene where everyone is cheering for spiderman) and he spots her in the crowd waiting for him bc she remembers peter…

this scene for context:

[sincerelyyoursz]

𝜗𝜚⋆ Mask off PT II (PT I) | Authors Note! hi hi… this one is a little mean at first 😭 i needed peter to be a d!ck a bit before we got the soft ending okay. there’s miscommunication, bad decisions, and him being painfully stupid but i promise it gets better. also wrote this with a lot of feelings so… enjoy the angst before the comfort <3

pairing : mcu peter parker x blackcat! reader

genre : angst, hurt/comfort, romance, slow burnish, fluff (ending)

warnings : emotional angst, miscommunication, peter being an idiot, jealousy, mild love triangle, temporary rejection, avoidance, emotional confrontation

word count : 1660K words

You walk into school expecting everything to be different. Expecting Peter to talk to you without breaking a pencil. So you walk into chemistry like you usually do, your backpack slung over your shoulder, hair slightly curled at the ends, the faint scent of vanilla and something warm clinging to your fitted top if anyone gets close enough to notice. 

He’s already there. Of course he is. 

Peter Parker, hunched over the table like nothing happened, like nothing changed. Like Friday night didn’t split both your lives open and stitch them back together wrong. He’s wearing a white long sleeve pushed up, showing forearms that don’t come from just studying. The fabric of his shirt was taut across his shoulders. 

Something is wrong. It sits in the air like static. Not obvious, not loud, just out of place. 

He doesn’t look at you, that's the first thing. Not even once.

You notice it immediately. Of course you do. You notice everything about him. 

The empty stool beside you in chemistry. 

The way his jaw would clench when you walk past, as if you were a burden. 

You hear his laugh across the room. The laugh that always had the ability to tug a smile on your lips. But this time, the laugh was not with you, but with her, Liz. 

You don’t react. I mean you do, just not physically. You just slide into your seat, pull out your note book, and start writing like your hand doesn’t feel a little too tight around the pen and as if you were running out of time. “Okay..” Ned whispers behind you, not whispering at all. “Something is definitely happening.” MJ hums. “Yeah. He’s being stupid.” “Like.. more stupid than usual.” You keep your eyes on your own paper. 

Peter glances at you. Just for a second. And then he turned away like it physically burned. 

You’re at your locker when you hear it. “Yeah, Friday works for me,” Peters says, a little too casual. “We could, um, get food? Or a movie? Whatever you want.” Liz smiles at him. Soft. Easy. “Food sounds nice.” Your fingers are still gripping the edge of the door of your locker. For a second. Just a second. Then you shut it. Smooth controlled. You walk past them without turning your head to look. Peter stops talking mid-sentence. His throat works. You don’t slow down. You see how it is, and you weren’t going to slow down for anyone. 

“You’re not planning on stabbing him right? Please don’t stab him” Ned asks carefully. “Debating it” You say low without looking up from your food. MJ snorts. “Sounds tempting.” You shrug, picking at your rice and chicken, the faint scent of soy clinging to it. “I’m not his girlfriend, he can do whatever he pleases” “That is not what this is,” MJ says, watching you over the edge of her book. “It literally is.” Ned leans in. “No, like he’s been weird. Like really weird. You know he almost dropped his tray when you walked in” 

“Not my problem.” Your voice is even. Way too even. MJ notices. She closes her book. “He’s been avoiding you” That’s the moment when you finally look up. Your expression does not falter. “Good.” But your finger tightens around your fork just a little. 

The city is quieter here, above it all, above all the worries, and all of the paranoia. As much as you wish it was silent it wasn’t. It was never silent. Distant sirens, the hum of traffic, wind brushing against concrete. You land lightly on the edge of the roof, heels clicking on the ground. You already know he’s here. Of course you do. Your body always knows before your mind catches up. Spider-sense. Recognition. You don’t look at him. You just walk past him, as your hair blows in the wind. 

“Sweetheart—”  You don’t slow down, not anymore. 

His voice hitches. “...please.” That makes you pause, after all the time it took to convince yourself to not slow down, him saying begging is all it took to make you stop. You don’t turn. Just.. stop. You're back to him. Arms crossed. Heart leaping out of your chest. With the wind tugging at your hair. “You don’t get to call me that.. not anymore..” you say quietly.  You were met with silence. Then the soft thud of his landing behind you. Closer. Not too close. Like he’s afraid, terrified even. 

“You’ve been ignoring me,” you continue, still with your back towards him. “In school. In the halls. Like I don’t exist in your world.” “I know.” “You took her out.” His breath hitches. “Yeah” You nod once. “Okay.” That hits him harder than anything else. “Okay?” He repeats, his voice cracking slightly. “Is that all you have to say?” He scoffs. “What exactly do you want me to say, Peter?” You ask. “Do you want me to say please don’t leave, or Peter I can’t lose you?” Your eyes narrow, and your jaw tightens. “Remember, it was your choice to avoid me, I did no wrong.” You manage to get out, finally turning. 

Your eyes meet his. And there it is. That look. Like he’s already lost you. Like everything is wrong with the world, and you are the only solution. “I want you to—” He stops, his lip quivers. He runs a hand through his hair while looking at the ground like it’s the most interesting thing here. “I don’t know?!.BE MAD. YELL AT ME. CRY. HIT ME EVEN. JUST SOMETHING.. So I know that you cared about this” He yells while pointing at the distance between you and him. You scoff at him “You chose her. Don’t expect me to stand here and compete.”  

“I know you wouldn’t,” he says softly. “That’s the problem.” The wind picks up between you. Cold. Sharp. You take a step back. Distance. “Then why are you here?” He laughs once. Bitter. “Because I’m stupid.” You don’t disagree. His gaze drops to the ground between you. Then back up. “I love you,” he says. The words land heavy punches on your lips and your chest. Real. “I do.” Your expression softens, just a little. “...but I can’t have you.” There it is. 

The thing that has been hanging in the air between you since that night on the roof. Unsaid. Until now. Your jaw tightens. “...because I’m dangerous.” “Yes.” he doesn’t hesitate. “You are,” he starts, voice hoarse and rough. “You jump from building to building as if you actually have nine lives. You fight people who would kill without a second thought. Every time I see you out there I—” He cuts himself off to take a deep breath, shaking his head. “I can’t breathe, okay? I—I can’t— I just can’t lose you like that.” 

“And Liz is easier.” “..Yes.” The word is quiet. Careful. But it still cuts. You nod slowly. “Right.” Silence stretches. Long. Heavy. Then you step around him as if he was an active land mine. “Good choice, Spider.” “Don’t—” You keep on walking, trying to convince yourself that if you close your eyes and open them again, he’ll be gone. “Cmon sweetheart, don’t do that.” You stop again. But this time, when you turn, there’s something sharper, colder in your eyes. 

“You don’t get to have both,” you say.” You do not get to love me and choose someone else and still call me that.” His face crumples a little. “I know.” “Then fcking act like it.” You move to the edge of the roof. Ready to jump. “Wait—” You pause. Again. He steps closer. Slow. Careful. Like approaching something fragile. “Baby..please.” The nickname hits differently this time. Softer. Broken. You look at him. Really look at him.

His hands are shaking. By the way his eyes are red like he hasn’t slept. By the way he’s trying so hard to hold himself together and failing anyway. “I went out with her,” he says, his voice uneven. “I tried. I really did. I kept thinking, this is what normal is supposed to feel like. This is safe. This is easy.’’Okay..and?” His laugh is hollow. “And I just could not stop thinking about you.” Your breath catches. Just slightly. Ï kept waiting for her to say something that sounded like you. Or look at me like you do. Or—” he shakes his head in frustration. “It’s not the same. Because it’s never going to be you.”

You swallow. “Peter—” “I’m scared,” he admits, stepping closer to you. “Okay? I’m terrified of losing you. But I’m more terrified of pushing and pretending I don’t— ” He stops. Takes a breath. “I don’t want to be safe if it means it’s not you.” The city hums below. Your heart pounds a little too loud in your chest. “You said you couldn’t have me,”you remind quietly. “I know.” He reaches for you. Stops halfway. “...but I want you anyway." 

The honesty in his voice is almost unbearable. You look at his hand. Then his face. “You’re an idiot.” Ï’ve been told”. “...a lot.” “Frequently.” A small pause. Then, you step forward. Close the distance. Your fingers slide into his. His breath catches like he didn’t expect you to actually touch him. “Hi,” you murmur. His lips part. “...hi.” You squeeze his hand. 

“Don’t ignore me again.” “Never, baby,” he says almost immediately. “You date someone else again—” “I won’t.” “You better not.” His eyes soften at that. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Okay. Yeah.” You lean in slightly, resting your forehead against his. The tension finally cracks. Just a little. “You’re still stupid,” you mumble. “He huffs out a quiet laugh. “Yeah. But I’m your stupid, right?” You pretend to think about it. “...unfortunately.” He grins. Soft. Relived 

And when his fingers tighten around yours, it feels like something steady for once. 

Not safe. 

Not easy.

But real.

And that’s enough for the both of you.

| Authors Note!

okay but they made up so it’s fine 😌 peter learned his lesson (kind of), reader did not settle for less, and we love that for her. thank you for reading <3

[someuselesslyexpensivecheese]

This fic is based on this post by @hurtspideyparker they let me write a fic about it! I know this is kind of a sudden switch from my usual fics, but I started getting into Marvel again, and I really wanted to write a fic about spiderman.

Also Im aware how late this came around, and sorry for that still busy with school and other stuff ✌️🫥

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For All you’re Worth

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Summary: Peter finds out who his biological father is, and he is desperate to form a bond with him, although he isn’t the nicest person around, he is the closest thing he’ll ever have to a father figure, until Tony makes it clear he doesn’t want a bond with Peter, he doesn’t want to be a father, his father to be more exact despite being blood related, at first Peter persists, he keeps going working himself to the bone, risking his life for the man who will never return that kind of affection, until Peter learns to accept that Tony will never be his father, Tony will never have that relationship with him the way that his uncle Ben or his father he’s only known for a fraction of his life had with him , and sometimes a boy has to learn to be a man and decide whether or not he should dwell on the past that was never meant to be or accept that it happens, unwanted pregnancies happen, Peter happened, and that shouldn’t stop him from moving forward.

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Warning(s): infedlity, emotional neglect, Injuries.

Disclaimer(s): Uhh, I didn’t check this fic for consistencies or spelling errors, so sorry if it’s a mess.

other mentions: N/A

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Peter was astonished, shocked almost, he never thought out of all people Tony Stark, Iron-man, was his father, if anything he never once questioned who his biological parents were at all, but now that analogy got flipped over his head, he barely remembers who either of his parents were, but, from what he heard of from his Aunt May, they were young and in love, and they both married early. To some that may-be a sweet love story, but, his Aunt said it in a displeased tone, almost as if annoyed or disappointed, by his parents marrying that early. Of course Peter never understood why that is growing up, because of course, he thought it was romantic how his parents dedicated themselves to each other for so long before he was concieved, but now? He thinks he can understand why Aunt May thinks the way she does, but that still left a lot of questions, why now? why come out about this now? And what had happened between his parents that he had been concieved from an affair with another man, not only that but with a billionare.

Peter looked up from the floor, and stared at Tony and then looked back down at the floor “Pete?” Tony says, Peter looked back up at him, “I-….uhm…I don’t know what to say” he replied, looking down at his feet a million thoughts were going through his head, how could his mother?-, why would she? How could she? But what about his father? Peter may have not known him for very long but he was still there in the early stages of his life, he was still present, he still held his hand when he was learning how to walk, but why? Peter wasn’t his- Peter’s train of thought was suddenly interrupted by Tony whom he forgot was still in the room “that’s alright kid, it’s not everyday you find out your real dad is a billionaire, say, why don’t you and I talk about this over lunch? let’s say…tommorrow at noon?” Tony says Peter had no time to think, he wanted answers, an explanation, he wanted to know more about his mother, his dad, the people he wished he knew more about in his life.

“I-uh….yes, yes, of course, I would love to…” Peter responded almost immedietly, Tony stared at him and nodded “alright just let me know when you’re free, I’ll be in touch” he says and handed Peter a thick white paper tnat could be mistaken for a buisness card, if not for the fact there’s almost no writing on it aside from the neatly written phone number on one side, Peter gently took the card from him and stared at it, as if analyzing the number on the card, Peter looked back up at Tony, who gave him a quick nod and a half smile before heading out his room, and closing the door behind him, Peter’s eyes flicked from the door and to the card in his hand, and to the door again, Peter sat down slowly on his bed and looked at the card in his hand again, he flipped it over to the blank space on the other side, wiping it over with his thumb before flipping it back over again to where Tony Stark’s phone number is written down. He brushed the card again and the ink smudges across the paper, Peter tosses it on his night stand and lays down on his bed.

Peter doesn’t know how long he’s been laying there staring at the ceiling, but it was definetly long enough to where Aunt May had knocked on the door, and asked him if everything is alright, Peter doesn’t respond, of course he notices the knock but he doesn’t acknowledge it, too busy thinking about whether or not he should call Tony, or should he say his dad, and consider his offer on a lunch meet up, but Peter doesn’t want to talk to Tony right now, not when he found that it’s the same man his mother decided to sleep with one night, probably just because she was bored, he doesn’t even know if she was bored, its the most likely scenario considering that Aunt May had said they married young, the thought of it made him grip his sheets tightly, he bit down his jaw causing it to hurt, Peter winced sitting up in his bed, and rubbing his jaw, just then May barges in she glanced around the room before her eyes laid on him, she sat down on the bed.

“Hey Pete, how’d the conversation with Mr Stark go? he didn’t say anything about your mother did he?” she asked giving him a small smile, Peter shook his head, “it went alright” he says, Peter must’ve had a blank look on his face if Aunt May’s face is anything to go by, her face turned into a frown and she took his hand, bringing him out of his thoughts, “Peter, I know this is a lot to take in…and honestly I didn’t think the guy cared enough to get into contact with his estranged son, but, I think you already know that your mother….” she trailed off, pressing her lips together, Peter nodded “I know……I know….just…why?…” May sighed “truthfully I don’t know Peter I’m sorry, all I knew was that your parents had gotten into a huge argument again that week, and your father had again considered filing for divorce, your mother had enough and decided to stay with us for a while, and…..” May’s voice grows quiet “and, three weeks into living with us, she announces she was pregnant with you….she hasn’t been in contact your father, she got pregnant from a party she decided to go to..” May pauses and looked at Peter, trying to gauge a reaction, there was none, or at least none that she could see anyway, she continued “your father was obviously furious, and……and he followed through with the divorce, leaving your mother with you….” she says, Peter scooted closer sitting next to her “and…then what?…..” May shakes her head “ I don’t know the next thing I knew your parents were back together again the following week, and me and your uncle haven’t spoken to them until they brought you to our home” she says.

Peter turns his gaze away from her, thinking about what he had just heard, his parents were divorced, they had a fight….his mother decided to hook up, and his father threatened separation instead of talking it through with eachother, how young were they when they got married? surely two adults living under the same roof couldn’t be this juvenile, but apparently that’s what it sounded like, Peter scrunched his brows and stood up swiftly, he stomped to the living room not caring how much noise he caused, he was sure he heard May call out to him but he was too angry, too wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear her, and he left the apartment taking his keys from the coffee table, and leaving, he needed to think about this, he just…..needed to be alone for a while. Outside the building; he looked up at the sky, it was a sunny day in Queens, it wasn’t hot, it wasn’t cold, that probably put Peter in a slightly better mood, but he was still angry, and he swiftly stomped throught the streets of New York, his head phones in his head, ignoring everything around him, at some point May started calling his phone non stop, and he ended up putting his phone on mute, and taking his headphones out, at some point his mind went numb, and he sat down on a bench somewhere in a park, it was getting late, the sun was setting. It was only then, that Peter unmuted his phone and headed back to the apartment.

———————————————————-

Peter twiddled his thumbs as he patiently waited until his next stop, he took Tony on his offer to meet up somewhere, unfortunately for Peter, Tony decided they would be meeting somewhere expensive, Peter had dressed up for it of course, it wasn’t a fancy establishment, it was more of a cafe, but it was still an expensive place, so he thought a nice collared shirt, dress pants, with a wool sweater would look nice, or at least that’s what May thought, Peter thought he looked like one of those stereotypical nerds you see in those teen movies made by adults who haven’t spoken to an actual teenager since their early twenties, nonetheless it was the nicest thing Peter had in his closet and Peter made sure he ironed it before he left the apartment, as the train stops from station to station, Peter constantly checks himself on his phone making sure nothing looks out of place or have any stains, this is the first time he’s having a proper conversation with his biological father, and inside a pricey establishment, keeping appearances are a necessity.

the train finally comes to a stop and Peter heads out the station, jogging and squeezing past multiple people, he held onto his bag pack tightly and pushes past he heads out, he looks around the general area, and checks his phone again to make sure it’s the right address, he presses the button on the stop light and waits, scanning the cafe for Tony, when he doesn’t find him he wonders if he’s gotten the wrong address, he walks across the street and looks around before he heads inside the building, he froze, the place is packed, waiters and waitresses carrying sweets and coffee, walking front and back of the cafe, the hairs on the back of Peter’s head stand up, as he made a beeline towards the empty table in the corner, he felt several people watching him as he walked, but he didn’t need to look to know.

Peter sat down, his eyes focused on his hands, he looked out the window, watching people walk by, Peter turned his head looking upwards only to see Tony standing over him with his shades and of course a three piece suit, making him look like he’s walking into a business meeting, which to be fair, he always looks like he’s walking into a business meeting, in Peter’s opinion anyway, Tony sat down in front of him taking his sunglasses off, Tony smiles scooting his chair in “Pete thanks for meeting up with me, I know you have a pretty hectic life, I appreciate you taking the time out of your day to come here” he says, Peter nodded he wanted to ask about his mother, he wanted to know why Tony chose to come out about this information now, but before he could speak Tony started talking “listen kid, I know what you’re thinking, I know it’s a bit overwhelming to find out that your biological father is Tony Stark much less Ironman, but listen, don’t get it over your head, I know about your parents, your mother was one of my……infamous hookups” Peter wanted to cringe at that, he didn’t want to learn more about Tony Stark’s intimate relationship with his biological mother, he was still angry about that, well not as much anymore, but still angry.

Tony Chuckled at Peter’s reaction, a waitress approached the two of them “hi can I get you both anything?” she asked, Peter opened his mouth, but, again Tony responded first “just coffee, extra cream, hold the sugar—” he says and turned to Peter “and what what about you kid?” he says leaning back on his chair relaxing “I-uh….” Peter thought “What do you have on your menu—” “the kid’ll have a breakfast bagel and some orange juice” Tony replied for him, Peter closed his mouth, man…..he really has to work on his social skills, the waitress looked at him confused “it’s his first time here, just showing him the ropes” Tony responds, the waitress nods looking at Peter oddly before she disappears behind him, Peter sighs “I wanted to see what’s on their menu..” Peter says a little disappointed, “Relax kid, it’s your first time here, I’ll handle it” he says leaning forward and clasping his hands together on the table, “So I heard you do vigilante stuff, weekly on school nights” Tony says softly, that made Peter Jump in his seat, he frantically looked around the room making sure no one had heard him before looking back at Tony “Relax Petey pie, no one in here is paying attention to a thing Im saying, and besides you don’t exactly hide the secret very well” Tony snarked, and continued “anyways, since you already have interest in the superhero gig how about I offer you something you can’t turn down?” Tony says, Peter scrunched his brows “and what’s that?” he almost murmured “you join the Avengers, be my young protégé, you could do this vigilante stuff under my legal obligation, and authorities can’t do anything about it” Tony uptunes his tone “—aaanndd, I can provide you, a scholarship to MIT, with the legal consent from your hot aunt May, while you train and study computer engineering through me” and with that Tony leaned back, giving Peter a wide grin. “wadda ya say Pete? have a once in a lifetime opportunity to be a billionaire, genius’, assistant?” he says putting his arms out as if he’s given the best pitch to a board meeting.

Peter blinks at what Tony had just said in front of him, Peter leans back, running his hand through his hair, his gears are shifting so much he’s pretty sure they’re burning by the looks of the stare Tony is giving him, after a good five minutes suddenly the waitress comes in with their order, Tony thanked her, along with Peter before he turned back to Tony and agrees on his offer, Tony smiles “great, you start next week, my driver Happy will pick you up, don’t be late” he says taking the spoon from his cup holder and pointing the spoon at him, Peter nodded, and watched Tony stir his coffee in the perfectly round small cup, Peter then looks down at his plate at the breakfast bagel, which has fresh lettuce and roasted tomatoes with avocado and an overeasy egg on top, Peter took the knife and fork that came with it and started cutting into his bagel, in crunched and squished, the bagel itself was very hard, it was toasted from what Peter can see, but it was surprisingly cool, Peter stabbed it with enough force to pick up all the ingredients, including the bagel, he stared at it as if hesitant to eat the food, before he opened his mouth and stuffed the messily chopped bagel inside, Peter coughed a little before he startd to chew on the food, it was alright, not his personal favorite but definitely good food, sauce is good, the ingredients are fresh, and the egg is pretty good despite it being pretty dry, yknow something you’d expect to get from a pricey cafe like this.

Peter swallowed, but didn’t touch his food too much after that, he wasn’t a big fan of avacado on toasted bread, or bagels for that matter, he liked the ones that’s served at the small food stand near the bus stop he takes to go to school, they really load the breakfast bagels there, at some point he put his utensils down and he raised his hand and called for a waiter, when one arrived he asked for a container to put his food in, the waiter nodded and walked off to go get it, Peter looked out the window once more, Peter was bouncing his leg, agitated, impatient, he wanted to go home. Of course Tony noticed and kicked his leg; Peter jumped, “kid, don’t bounce your leg, it doesn’t look good on you” he says, in which Peter responds with tucking his legs in, he and Tony sat there, Peter did nothing aside from put the leftovers from his plate away, while Tony finished his meal, nothing was said for the entire ordeal until they exited the cafe, in which Tony held out his hand for Peter to shake, Peter stared at it, his eyes flick from his face to the hand, before Peter shakes it. Tony smiles “Nice to finally talk to you kid” he says patting his shoulder and walking off towards a sleek looking limousine.

Peter was left there standing, with the leftover bagel in his hands, he watches Tony get into the limousine and it drives off, leaving Peter standing there like an idiot, after what felt like only a few seconds Peter eventually started walking to the train station, the container of food in hand, he checked his pockets making sure nothing fell out or stolen and he descended down the stairs, scanning his card and sat down on the bench, the train doesn’t come for another ten minutes, so Peter pulls out his phone and starts to message his Aunt, telling her about what had happened, he also calls his buddy Ned to talk about the whole thing, the train eventually comes, and Peter glides past the passengers and sitting on one of the seats, he swings his legs a little as he speaks loudly over the phone about how, “he shook my hand!” and “he offered me to work with him!” at some point a passenger next to him a middle aged woman, brought her index finger to her face and shushed at him loudly, which Peter immediately snapped his lips shut, but before he hung up on Ned he told him if he could talk to him later, Peter pressed the decline button and he murmured an apology to the woman right after, he kept his head down the rest of the ride until it arrived in his stop, he immediately stepped out.

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Peter collapses on the rubble his right hand on his left rib, he breathed short ragged breaths, as he looked up at the sky he occasionally pinched the red suit he had to give his chest more room to breathe, he coughed and reached up to his mask, lifting it up half way, it didn’t help much and he coughed some more, he groaned turning over to his side and using his good arm to pull himself up, he coughed a little more, spit and blood fly out of his mouth as he stood, three people zoom past him in the sky, the wind dragging his body to the direction they flew.

Peter stumbled, it wasn’t enough to knock him off his feet but it was enough to sway him a little, he looked around the area, rubble was scattered everywhere, and there were a few vehicles on fire, he wheezed, and coughed as he stumbled through the various broken glass, concrete and debris, as soon as he got far enough away he started swinging away from the fight, there were several people still around throwing hits after hits towards each other, but otherwise the area was completely in ruins, and Peter swung far enough away that the explosions, and crash of a car was barely audible, he landed at on a roof of a random donut shop, and collapsed, behind the large sign on top, he leaned on it, closing his eyes as he coughed the remaining smoke and debris from his lungs, his body went slack and he drifted to sleep.

The next time he opened his eyes it was dark the few stars up on the sky shine above him, and the sign glared a bright neon red and blue, he sighed he felt his chest, he breathed in and out, Peter sighed and stood up and headed back to the Stark tower, until he ran out of fluid and had to walk the rest of the way there, it wasn’t an ideal situation, but hey better than almost dying in a fight with a guy with a metal arm and getting your ribs crushed by a pipe, once he got back he immediately started to look for happy, he won’t be able to find Tony anywhere, Because duh, his dad is out there fighting The Captain America but he will more likely find happy, his personal driver, and manager, so that’s what he did, he stood at the front for a good while, asked the people inside where he is and not getting a solid response, he eventually gave up and left, headed home, took the train, and snuck into his room.

His chest still hurt, that probably won’t be a problem, he has superhealing abilities, he should be fine, he could just take some painkillers and go to sleep no big deal, he comes home with injuries all the time, once with a broken ankle thta he had to relocate by breaking it again and putting it back in its original position, it was….very painful, but he didn’t want to have to explain to aunt May how he got it, or explain that he’s spiderman.

It wasn’t a good day for him, it’s okay Peter thought to himself tomorrow will be better, tomorrow’s the day he could finally prove himself, maybe he could even land a position in the avengers, okay, that’s wishful thinking but you’d never know what the future holds for you, and Peter wholeheartedly believes that the future holds something for him, he just has to keep going to reach it, a boy can dream, yknow, this gave peter all the boost he needed, he was excited for the next day, and the day after that, quickly changing into some comfortable clothes and hopped straight into bed closing his eyes, excited for what tomorrow will bring for him.

Although Tomorrow came, there was nothing that happened, then the next day came, still nothing, and then the next day came, then the next, and by this point Peter is starting to become more and more agitated, he’s bouncing his leg waiting for a reply, but none came, at some point he called Happy, he didn’t pick up, and that’s when Peter started to leave voicemails on his phone without ever getting a response back.

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Peter grunted sitting up from the spot he laid on the bed, he stood immediately and hurled out his guts out, he coughed, he wheezed, that wasn’t right. He was perfectly fine yesterday, well…as fine as he could be when his rib cracked while yawning, not ideal he knows, thank god for super healing, but something was definitely off, because the vomit was thick and red, that’s not right, he stood his head spinning, he wobbled and stumbled he walked towards Aunt May’s bedroom, he pounded on the door, Aunt May answered almost immediately, his vision blurred he could only make out Aunt May’s face, and by the looks of it, he might’ve looked like hell, blood stained lips that dripped onto the floor and a sleepy look on his eyes.

And unfortunately that was the last thing he saw before he blacked out completely, the next thing he knew he was in a hospital, everything ached, although it’s just mildly, but there was a tube coming from his arm and connecting to a plastic bag on a metal hook on wheels, he got up begrudgingly, he groaned a few nurses rushed in and attempted to make him lay back down, which he begrudgingly obliged, he laid down, his eyes drooped immediately, and all of the sudden the cold stale white hospital bed is the softest he’s ever slept on, it wasn’t comfortable by any means, but it was enough to put him back into a slumber, and then everthing turned dark.

the world was bright, New York’s usual loudness seemed to be drowned out by the busling workers at the Diner, Peter remembered this place this was where Uncle Ben and Aunt May took him to make him feel better after the funeral, He remembered he cried for hours and disrupted the other customers meals with his sobs, and then Uncle Ben gave him some pancakes under the table until he came out to eat the other stuff, it was a comforting experience but what was more comforting was that Tony was there, right here right now, and they’re eating the pancakes he ate off the floor when he was five, they talked, they laughed peter doesn’t even know what they were talking about, but New Yorks down pour suddenly doesn’t feel so gloomy anymore, it feels relaxing almost, the pain in his chest stops hurting and the smell of coffee fills his nose…

—————————————————

“So we found some blood in peter’s lungs, and, if you look over here-“ the doctor says pulling out another x-ray scan. She takes the pen from her shirt pocket and points it’s rear end to one side of the scan, “at least two or three had punctured his lungs on each side, but there are a couple points of interest I want you to see” she says, May scoots her chair a little closer, the doctor takes a copy of the x-ray.

“See here, There are a couple of healed cracks on his rib cage, where it punctured his lungs, but what I was most concerned about” she says, pulling out another copy, this time it’s more zoomed in to the left side of peter’s lung “is that the lungs seemed to…heal around the bone that punctured it?” she says “what’s stranger is that, there are a couple of broken ribs that look like they’ve healed the wrong way, and, these look old” she says, the doctor goes quiet “Ms Parker, do you know what caused these injuries by any chance?” May looked back at her and shook her head “no…no, I don’t” she says, the doctor nods “and you said that he works for Mr Stark is that correct?” she asked, “I-yes…he does, well, Peter’s a student intern” May replied

The doctor nods “okay, by any chance, does he know what happened with peter? ” She asked, May sat there staring at the floor for a moment, like she never thought about the fact that Tony might’ve been the cause of all this, of peter landing in the hospital, actually she shouldn’t have even been surprised, with the job he does she was naive to think he could promise to keep the kid safe, actually she was naive to think he could at least care enough not to want anything to do with peter other than benefit himself “no, I’ll….I can call him as soon as I get home, and I’ll inform you” she says, the doctor nods her head “of course”.

—————————————————

Somewhere in Tony’s mansion, he lies in bed, the arc reactor, glowing on his chest, the exposed metal is cool to the touch, and Tony lifts a finger and taps it, there was a crack right in the center where he had to pry off vibranium, one that was painted with red white and blue, he sighs, where did things go so….wrong? Pepper turns over beside him, scooting in closer she lays her arm over his chest “what’s on your mind?” She asked resting her head next to the reactor.

“I just…I’m just tired Pep…” he says, Pepper frowns “aren’t you forgetting something?” She asked, sitting up from her spot, Tony thought for a moment, “no not that I’m aware of” Pepper sighed, “May called me today…” she says, Tony sat up, “she says peter’s in the hospital, she asked me for details on what happened to him, she said the doctor found multiple displaced ribs when they scanned peter, a few punctured his lungs, she asked me if you had anything to do with it” she says.

Tony turned his head to her, he looked at her for a moment, he opened his mouth and then closed it, running a hand through his beard, gears turn in his head, “No, at least I don’t think so?” he said, Pepper sighs “Tony, what about that fight you had with Captain America and the others?” she asked, Tony thought “No I don’t think…..I thought…” he stopped himself, “thought what Tony?” she says, Tony sat in silence, thinking about it, he doesn’t remember Peter getting an injury, in all honesty he didn’t remember meeting with Peter since he started to work as his intern.

And then, he thought back to the civil war, when he fought his acquaintance, no, his friend, the man he decided he could trust with his life only to turn around and try to kill him when it came to someone he knew back in the past, Tony never forgot that, he tried to remember the series of events that happened, well he landed in Siberia, almost got killed, uhm, yeah he doesn’t really know, the kid? I mean yeah he was there, he just, didn’t really know what happened to him afterwards, which, not a good thing he’s aware, but you can’t really blame a guy when he’s about to be killed by his…..closest friend, feels odd saying that now, he did bring the kid to the war though, that, he does remember, and after that. And after that…..well, fuck, he just left him there, I mean you can’t really blame him for thinking he ended up fine, the kid was competent, okay maybe it was his fault a little bit, but can you blame a guy who almost died to his former teammate?

Pepper sighed “Tony, you should visit him,” she says, “why?” He responded “what do you mean, why?” she says “you’re his father Tony you can’t just put this off like everything else, Peter’s your son, he’ll appreciate it if you showed up” Pepper retaliates “and besides hasn’t he been calling you to hang out with him?” she says, Tony sighed “okay, okay, fine I’ll give him a call tomorrow how about that?” he says “no Tony go out there and visit your son, he’s injured” she says “tomorrow” Tony repeats “Tomorrow” Pepper says sighing, flopping back on the mattress, and pulling the covers over herself, she’ll pay Peter a visit tomorrow.

—————————————————

Tony shuts the back of the van and huffs, what’s the kid gonna do with a teddy bear? he’s sixteen, kid probably likes video games or sports, but what does he know? he hops into the passenger seat of the car, “alright Happy you know where to go” he says, Happy sighs and nods and turns the key, and drives off, Tony texts a couple of people on his phone, sometimes checking to see if he received anything from Pepper, he clicks out of the app, and shuts his phone off, he sighs and looks out the window watching the trees, the kid really had to go out there and ‘be a hero’ does he? not offense, it’s admirable but not really a cute quality when you out your life in danger.

the car turns and stops at a large building around 20 stories tall, it had two other wide buildings attached to each side, almost as tall, Tony got out the car and turned his gaze up, he puts a hand above his face to cover the light shining in his eyes, he takes the teddy bear and the birthday card he got from the store, he thanks Happy and heads on in passing through several staffs checking in and getting into a crowded elevator with people wearing masks and coughing, some leaning on the wall to support their weight while they get some shut eye, others are carrying gifts, Tony squeezes his way inside gripping onto the teddy bear and the flowers for dear life, like the drop from the ground isn’t 12cm away, but still.

The second he got to his floor he quickly jumped out of there carrying Peter’s ‘gifts’, honestly Pepper could’ve gotten better gifts in Tony’s opinion, the teddy bear’s fur is a mess, I mean what do you expect? it was in a seal tight bag inside a package, the stores are better, not any more quality but better for sure.

Tony took a left turn and saw a couple of open doors, he peered through the cracks trying to see if he can find a recognizable face inside, Tony forgot what number room peter was staying in, evem though the nurse told him twice. Finally he reached the end of the hall he sighed turning back around to look at the hallway of doors, well shit….he turned his head to the right and decided to knock before entering, there sat an old woman in a chair and a rather young man on the hospital bed, thin and pale, they turned and looked at him, Tony cringes and immedietly left the room, he turned to the door on the left diagnolly, and approched he knocked on the door before entering, a frazzeled and weary looking woman sat in the hospital bed holding an infant greeted him, again he left.

he repeated the process three more time until he reached the fourth door, and this time an angry old woman sat up on the hospital bed along with a young woman who was shocked at first but immedietly got defensive and she threatened to call a nurse, he jumped and apologized before leaving he sighed, bouqet of flowers in one hand and the teddy bear in the other, he leaned on the side of the wall, he’ll just have to go back to the receptionist again, he stood up sraight and started walking towards the elevator, he pressed the button the elevator on his left dinged and May walked out, he spots her and calls her out.

May turns her head “oh…Tony, surprised to see you here” she says, Tony nodded clearing his throat “so uh…heard Peter was injured….how is he?” Tony says as he followed her straight down the hall, May hummed “he’s okay, he’s been quiet lately..” Tony nodded, and continued to walk with her “You visiting anybody here?” May asked, “I-” Tony hesitated “I came here for Peter..” he says, May Stood silently for a moment and added, “Just now?” she says, he nodded, May sighed Tony could see her rolling her eyes mentally “Fine…” she says “Nice to see you again Tony Im sure Peter would be glad to see you after a while” she says, reaching the end of the hall, and knocking on the door, she opened it and there was Peter sitting on the Bed the hospital gown slouched on one side as he rested on the raised mattress, his eyes flicked to the door.

“Hey little man, how are ya?” she asked smiling at him, Peter’s eyes relaxed a bit before scrunching his brows he hummed looking back outside the window. Tony and May stepped inside making sure the door behind them was closed, Tony plopped the gifts down on a wooden table and huffed out a sigh he cracked his back before grabbing a spare chair and sitting beside Peter, “Hey sport, how’re ya feeling?” he asked, as a polite conversation starter, Peter let out a sigh “Im fine, Mr Stark, thanks…for uh….visiting…” he says, Tony nodded, “Peter, I got your favorite, orange chicken with grilled garlic bok choy from that Chinnese restuarant you like” May says taking out a plastic bag that has that traditional chinnese tower logo painted in red, Peter sat up “wow…thanks Aunt May..” he says his eyes lighting up, kid must’ve been hunrgy, Tony thought.

They open the containers and take out the cheap sooden chopsticks that it came along with, and started to eat, Tony sat there for a moment as they ate before he looked outside and looked at his digital watch, pretending to look at something, he looked up and placed his sunglasses back on, standing up, May and Peter watched him as he stood, but May stopped him “Going so soon already?” she asked, “Yeah just got a notification about a meeting in Stark Enterprises, sorry Pete, hope you don’t mind” Tony says shrugging apologetically, Peter nodded “No worries, I understand, nice to see you Mr Stark” he says.

Tony nodded with a half smile and left the room, making sure to shut the door gently, he’d say that meeting was a success, and headed back down and called happy.

———————————————————-

As May and Peter ate, Pater frowned down at his food, “Pete what’s wrong you don’t like it?” May asked “well I can tell you right now that they just hired a new chef because the old one retired, so sorry if it’s a little different, not much we can really do” she says, Peter hummed as he took some bok choy into his mouth, “it’s okay Aunt May, I was just thinking” he says, “About what?” she asked curiously.

Peter brushed it off as nothing serious he was just wondering where he could go from here, because he doubted he could do any hero work or internship stuff while his ribs stitched themselves back together, not a long wait by his standards because of his super healing ability, but he didn’t tell her that, he was kind of tired, tired of Tony, tired of life, tired of…..well this, he was tired, his own dad wanted nothing to do with him, because he had his own life, he has a wife that he’s focused on, and maybe it was a little pathetic that Peter had wanted to catch the attention of one man who only shared his DNA, when he had uncle ben, he had his dad….they were…well dead, but in all honesty? Peter thinks he turned out okay for someone who lost both male figures and one female figure in his life.

he was polite, he was helpful, he has hobbies and two wonderful friends in his life, plus Aunt May, he was interested in mechanical engineering, and made two web shooters from a few spare parts of a robot he made with a robot kit for kids, and web fluid from basic chemistry, he was fine…maybe it’s not the end of the world if he didn’t reconnect with his, well, one of his immediete family, he has a family, had it for awhile.

Maybe Mr Stark’s making a reasonable choice he should’ve followed a long time ago, maybe he should’ve kept his distance…

————————————————————

Part 2

Author’s Note: hi very sorry this came in so freaking late 😭 even though I dropped the teaser a long time ago it was this one very sorry again I got busy with life, but anyway here we are this will probably get a part two, and because this is already long enough lol, I have a bunch of other fics planned and I really need to get them done especially this one since it was sooo long, but anyways I’ll see you all in the next one, whenever that is…peace..

[thepatricktreestump]

🕷️ Chapter One 🕷️

You were no stranger to the American Museum of Natural History. It was your favorite place to go “shopping.” And you had your eye on Cosmic Splendor for a while now. A new exhibit opened last spring, on floor one, the Mignone Halls of Gems and Minerals, located in the Meister Gallery. You loved shiny objects, and boy did this exhibit house them. Over sixty different pieces of astronomically inspired jewelry, courtesy of Van Cleef and Arpels. They had rubies, sapphires, diamonds, and gold. Pocket watches, pendants, spirals, clips, necklaces. But what really caught your eye was a special watch. The Midnight Planetarium watch, composed of pink gold, agate, sugilite, turquoise, serpentine, chloromelanite, and jasper. Dating back to 1951. Leather band, golden frame, a miniature sun dial, and five planets, all which move on its own disc according to the real life rotation time. Priced starting at $300,000. You liked it, and you wanted it, and you sure as hell were bent on taking it. You just had to wait for the right time.

Notoriously known as “Black Cat,” you were a successful burglar in New York City. Anything bright and shiny that caught your eye you desperately needed to have, and you were a girl with expensive taste. You learned from your father, a cat burglar himself, who taught you nearly everything you knew. You grew up in Queens and spent your teenage years stealing from bodegas and street markets before graduating to art shows, auctions, and museums. Your luxury high rise condo was filled with your treasures, priceless paintings and expensive jewels. You had every right to be cocky, considering you’ve never been caught. Well, that was until you met Spider-Man.

Everything was going according to plan, you had the display case open, you were ready to snatch the watch when you felt something sticky on your hand, attaching you to the podium. “What the fuck?” you wondered breathlessly, until you looked up, and hanging upside down from a spider web was a guy in a red and blue spandex suit. You couldn’t say anything, considering you yourself were wearing a black leather bodycon suit with faux fur. But he had big white bug eyes and was upside down, which made him look kind of goofy.

“I have a feeling you didn’t pay admission,” the stranger joked and you narrowed your eyes, unamused.

“Unhand me,” you demanded, still trying to unstick your arm from the podium.

“No can do,” he shook his head, releasing himself from the web and falling to the ground. The eyes on his mask widened and you heard him gasp a little bit. “Woah.”

“Woah what?” you sneered, annoyed.

“You’re just uh, well um…” he scratched the back of his head, standing there awkwardly. His voice got super quiet. “You’re really hot.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

He didn’t have to tell you this. You knew you were hot. Long white hair, mysterious eye mask, leather bodysuit, fluffy white faux fur, long cat like nails, and a curvy sexy body, you were a bombshell through and through. “No, no, I’m supposed to be arresting you,” he shook his head once again, trying to come to his senses. “Criminal.”

“Who even are you?” you sighed, blowing a stray strand of hair out of your face.

“Me? I’m Spider-Man,” he crossed his arms over his chest. “Who are you?”

“The name’s Black Cat baby,” you grinned. “Nice to meet you Spider-Boy.”

“Spider-Man,” he corrected. “And I wish we were meeting under different circumstances. Because you are… something else.”

“Uh huh,” you drew out slowly.

WIthout warning, he shot another web from his hand and plastered your other hand to the podium, and you groaned, officially angry. “Seriously?” you seethed.

“The police will be on their way soon,” he saluted, thwipping up another web towards the ceiling. “Don’t make me web you again!” He slowly levitated up from the floor and you scowled, thoroughly annoyed.

“Fuck you, Spider-Man!” you shouted.

“Fuck me? Don’t mind if you do,” he teased, climbing out through a window and leaving you alone.

You could not get caught by the police. You closed your eyes tight, trying to think of a way out of this sticky situation. You concentrated, focusing until your nails unsheathed themselves, slicing through the webbing. “Aha!” you grinned, pulling down hard and cutting yourself out from the sticky material. You swiftly picked up the coveted watch, triggering the alarm system, and running out the side exit. Adrenaline rushed through your veins as you ran, laughing maniacally, proud of yourself for your great escape. You heard police sirens in the distance and you ducked into an alleyway, jumping onto a trash bin, grabbing onto a fire escape, and climbing up the side of a building. Once you made it to the roof, you caught your breath, still laughing from the adrenaline high, peeking over the edge and watching as police surrounded the museum.

Suckers. You took a moment to admire the watch you had stolen, tracing your fingers over the eighteen karat rose gold frame, noticing all the little details. So worth it. You made your way back to your apartment, sliding up the window and crawling in, remembering the way that spider guy did the exact same thing in the museum. You were itching to find out who this person was. Opening up your laptop on your bed, you googled “Spider-Man NYC.” Several news articles and YouTube videos instantly popped up on your screen, adding to your fascination. Apparently he was a rookie vigilante, someone who didn’t work for the police, but helped them nonetheless. There was footage of this guy stopping buses with his bare hands, swinging around the city doing backflips, helping old women cross the street, and taking selfies with teenagers. You grumbled, still annoyed he had foiled your original plans, and clicked off the websites. Hopefully that was the last you’ve seen of Spider-Man.