Visit Blog
Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.
hale-13 · an hour ago
By Hale13
For the Summer of Whump Day 25 Prompt - Isolation
Truth is, Peter didn’t do the best alone. He was an extrovert at heart and probably had some repressed abandonment issues he’d rather not think about right now but this was fine. He was fine.
Words: 3213, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English
Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Rating: Gen
Relationships: Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Characters: Peter Parker, May Parker, Tony Stark
TW: Depression, Delirium, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Descent into Madness
Read on AO3 or below the line break.
Peter groaned, squinting his eyes shut further instead of trying to open them. His head was throbbing and his thoughts were sluggish and dizzy. He could tell he was lying down but everything seemed to be spinning around him making him feel nauseous – he swallowed down the bile attempting to rise in his throat and took deep breaths through his nose. Mind over matter and all that. Once he felt a little more steady, Peter took stock.
The floor he was lying on was hard and cold and he was positioned awkwardly with his arms folded under him, tingles running through them painfully from the compression of veins and arteries. Carefully, Peter cracked his eyes open. The room he was in was dark and the air had the damp quality of somewhere underground and Peter blinked his eyes shut again. Yeah he had no idea where he was or how he got here.
With effort, he rolled over to lie flat on his back but made no attempt to try and sit up yet. The last thing he remembered was getting up for school. It was Friday and he was looking forward to going to Ned’s after school and spending the weekend having movie marathons and building the newest Star Wars Lego kit Ned had picked up with his birthday money. He remembered getting ready to leave, pulling his Spider-Man suit from his bag and hiding it in his closet (he had promised to take a break since he had been overdoing just a little over the last few weeks), he thumbed past a text from Mr. Stark – he didn’t want to read anything from him right now, fighting stressed him out and he didn’t want to deal with it…
He left his apartment. He was going to walk to school instead of taking the subway because it was hot out and he was feeling a little sensitive today and he wasn’t sure he could handle the smell. His Spidey sense had been tingling since he had gotten up that morning but it had been doing that off and on for days since his fight with…
He was walking to school. Everything was fine.
But now he’s here? How did it happen? Peter’s head throbbed lowly and threateningly as he tried to wrack his memory for the answer so he stopped and tried to make himself relax. He was probably kidnapped right? He had been kidnapped a couple times before and he knew how this worked. Once his assailants realized he was awake and semi-aware they would come in to highlight their terms, probably rough him up a bit and then Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes would track him down and break him out.
But… would Mr. Stark really come to get him now? After everything.
‘Don’t think about that Peter,’ he told himself. He was already about five seconds from a panic attack and that just wouldn’t do. He needed to keep it together. If his captors thought he was breaking so early things could get so much worse. He was fine. Just some deep breaths.
Peter opened his eyes again. The room was almost too dark to see anything, lit only by a small red emergency light in one corner that left strange shadows and distorted shapes and colors. The room was small – maybe ten feet by ten feet if he was lucky – and mostly empty. There were three large cases with water bottles and a few boxes of crackers in one corner and a metal toilet was in the other. A haphazard pile of ratty looking blankets that smelled like mildew were a few feet away from Peter.
This was new. He was almost never provided water or food in the few times he had been taken before, not that he was gone long enough to need anything.
Something felt off.
Using every bit of strength he had left, Peter levered himself up and leaned heavily against the wall while his vision span in circles and nausea crept back up his throat. Whatever he had been dosed with must have been pretty potent to leave him feeling like this. So plans. He would wait to see what the people who took him wanted. He would let his metabolism work off the drugs. Maybe he would crawl over and grab a bottle of water once he felt a little more steady and hope that they hadn’t been tampered with.
It was all a waiting game.
Okay so this was weird.
Peter took another sip of his - up tampered thank god – water and swirled it around in his mouth. It had easily been at least a few hours since he had woken up and no one had come through the solid metal door that Perter had yet been able to break through. Someone always came in to monologue.
And it just proved that whoever took him knew he was Spider-Man since he wasn’t able to break out.
“This is fine,” Peter said out loud just to hear something. “They’re just working on a longer timeline is all.”
Truth is, Peter didn’t do the best alone. He was an extrovert at heart and probably had some repressed abandonment issues he’d rather not think about right now but this was fine. He was fine.
More time passed.
And more time.
Pulling one of the blankets around his shoulders and wedging himself into a corner Peter curled tightly around his legs. He was tired and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the drugs or if it had been that long he had been trapped here. Regardless he figured he may as well take a nap. Hopefully it would encourage some asshole into bursting into the room to wake him up and, if it didn’t, maybe sleeping would help clear the remaining fog from Peter’s head.
His sleep was anything but easy though. He woke up continuously as if startled and it took forever to relax enough again to doze. He had nightmares; little nebulous things that made little sense and faded the second he woke up but left his respiratory rate elevated and his heart thudding in his chest. It took time but he eventually was tired enough to sleep deep enough not to dream.
When he woke up the room was completely unchanged and Peter gulped. His mind was spiraling and taking him to dark places and it wasn’t the time to go there yet. He hadn’t even been here for that long he didn’t think. Maybe not even a full day. It wasn’t time to freak out yet.
Peter distracts himself by grabbing another water bottle and a pack of the peanut butter crackers. He eats three of them and saves the rest of the pack for later. Washes it down with a few sips of water and tries to ignore the aching and cramping in his stomach as it growls. Something is telling him to ration his food and water. He doesn’t know how long he’s going to be stuck here after all but it can’t be that much longer right? Mr. Stark will come to get him. He wouldn’t leave him here.
The ‘day’ passes slowly. Peter paces the full length of the room, he searches every nook and cranny for cameras or microphones. He tries to take apart the emergency light but its completely sealed and he doesn’t want to tamper with it and potentially leave himself in complete darkness. He counts his water bottles (one hundred forty-eight since he already drank two) and his crackers (forty-nine and a half packs) and organizes and reorganizes them. He paces some more and practices his breathing exercises.
He falls into an uneasy sleep.
“Okay time to come up with a plan,” Peter tells himself the next day. “A feasible plan.”
He comes up with nothing. He likes brainstorming but he’s always needed to write things down to properly organize anything and he has nothing to write with but blood and nothing to write on but the wall. He’s not desperate enough to do that.
Instead he does fifty push up and sit ups. It feels good to do something physical so he jogs around the room for what’s probably a few hours. He stops when he drains a full bottle of water in a second and he can’t do that. He doesn’t know how long he’s here and he has to ration and what if no one comes to get him and he’s stuck here forever and he runs out of food and water a human can only go without water for a few days and…
Peter gasps and collapses to his knees, bowing his face down to rest his forehead on the cool stone floor as the room spins from lack of oxygen and he tries to control his breathing. Four-Seven-Eight. He remembers that from his, very few, therapy appointments after Ben. Four-Seven-Eight. Four-Seven-Eight.
It’s not working.
Peter sobs brokenly and his throat feels like its closing, his vision is spinning and dimming his muscles are weak and-
He wakes up with a gasp and a cough some untold amount of time later. His head hurts from the panic attack and he lets himself cry quietly for a few minutes. He’s alone. He hates being alone.
How long has he been here?
The laugh that bubbles up from his chest is a little unhinged and that just won’t do. Peter needs to lock it down and get his shit together because he can’t just sit here and lose it because that is flat out unacceptable.
So he gets up and walks around the bare room. He does some yoga that he had been learning from Pepper and May and focuses on his breathing since breathing is important in yoga. When he’s done he does some cool down stretches and feels a lot better. More steady. He eats the other three crackers in the pack he opened up and drinks some water. He’s tired so he curls back up in the corner with his blanket and pillows his head on his arm.
He wakes up and the room is unchanged.
How long has he been here?
Peter’s stomach feels like its actually eating itself so he eats a couple crackers and indulges in half a bottle of water. It does nothing to make him more full but he pretends it does. He feels a little weak and out of it this ‘morning’ and he stumbles as he walks laps around the room. He hasn’t gone this long without a decent meal since he was bitten and its freaking him out a little.
The yoga worked yesterday. He’s going to do more of that he thinks.
His limbs are shakier than yesterday and he gets out of breath on some of the more advanced poses so he slows down and really takes the time to work through each new position and hold it before slowly transitioning to the next. He’s exhausted when he finishes and can barely do a short cool down due to his painful muscles so he just lies flat on his back for a while and breathes through it.
His head itches from the sweat he’s worked up and when he scratches at his scalp his fingernails come away with little balls of dead skin and blood under them and he crinkles his nose. He hasn’t gone this long without a proper shower in… a long time and he hates it. He wants to be clean. His hair is greasy and flat and flopping into his face.
He could use some of the water. He doesn’t have soap and its not the same as a shower but…
No. He needs to save the water. He can handle being dirty for a few more days. A week tops. He’ll be out of here soon. Maybe he should take a nap to pass the time? He is kinda sleepy from his workout, a nap would be nice.
When he wakes up again he doesn’t bother moving. He’s really tired and its not like he has anywhere to be so what’s the point?
He closes his eyes again.
He’s only eaten two full packs of crackers since he got here so Peter decides to gorge himself and eat a full pack of six and drink a full bottle of water. His throat is dry and his tongue is sticky and tacky in his mouth from dehydration so the food and water are like nectar and ambrosia to him. But…
He had more water right?
Peter counts the bottles and comes up two short. That’s impossible, he’s alone and he didn’t drink two extra bottles so where did they go? His breath is coming out in hasty pumps as he panics and counts again. No! He’s missing three bottles! How is this happening?
Peter stumbles up and goes to the door. Someone has to have come in while he was asleep and taken the water so that means the door was opened. He scrabbles at the edges, tearing his nails to shreds and smearing blood everywhere as he tears at the hinges to try to get it opened. It has to open!
His breath is coming too fast and his lungs are burning and his eyes are burning and he’s choking and falling to the floor and-
He wakes up curled in a ball by the door feeling out of it but more in control. He drags himself back to his pile of water bottles and, very carefully, counts them again.
And once more.
He isn’t missing any after all, he just didn’t count correctly. Peter wants to laugh. Peter wants to cry. He does neither. His muscles are tight and on the verge of cramping so he does some light stretches to try to work everything out. It helps a little but he feels too tired and out of it to do laps around the room or yoga and he’s afraid to meditate so he curls back up in the corner again. He’s hungry but he doesn’t dare eat anymore crackers since he had a full pack already today.
Or was it yesterday?
He decides it doesn’t matter – he can’t eat them right now. What he can do is sleep so he does.
His dream is about May. About sitting in the kitchen and listening to classic rock and pretending to do his homework but really gossiping about his classmates and her about her coworkers while she burns pork chops in the oven. They laugh while they fan the smoke away from the blaring fire alarm and out the open window and pull out a take out menu at random from the drawer. They aren’t picky eaters and they’re curled up on the couch watching Stranger Things with tacos. May jumps and launches her taco toward the ceiling and they spend the rest of the night cleaning avocado off the popcorn ceiling.
He wakes up with silent tears leaking down his face and a feeling of desolation eating up his insides. It feels like his heart is clenching and like his chest is closing in painfully and his stomach doesn’t ache from hunger for once but feels like a tightly clenched back hole instead. Peter doesn’t bother wiping his face, just turns over to face the wall and curls up even tighter. It’s too hard to move.
It’s a few days later that his legs start cramping whenever he moves them too suddenly and he feels like screaming from the resisting burning pain. He isn’t really hungry anymore but he forces down a couple of crackers everyday and tries to drink at least half a bottle of water. He’s losing weight as his metabolism eats at his minimal fat stores before starting on his muscles and he panics again when he notices his stomach is starting to become concave.
How long has he been here?
Peter supposes it makes sense though. Why would Mr. Stark come for him now? After what he did? His mentor may be the very definition of a helicopter parent but he wasn’t strict and if Peter would have just listened to him… but now he’s alone.
Peter sniffs loudly. He’s cried a few times since he’s been here but he hasn’t let himself break down. He’s tried to keep it together but is it really worth it? He’s alone. No one’s coming for him.
He’s going to die here. Alone.
He sobs. He wants to cry but the tears won’t come so all that’s left are painful, hitching breaths and horrible whining sounds. He doesn’t think he even sounds human anymore and maybe he isn’t. He doesn’t feel human.
He doesn’t make the effort to eat or drink that day and the next time he wakes up he’s too weak to even crawl over to the pile of water bottles and crackers. He decides that it’s a good thing. He can feel himself losing it, can feel himself falling apart and at least this way he’ll go quicker. He can’t stand this. He can’t stand being alone. He wants May. He wants Ned and MJ. He wants Mr. Stark. He doesn’t want to die and he really doesn’t want to die alone.
This isn’t fair.
It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair it isn’t fair it isn’t fair it isn’t-
He didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye. He hadn’t seen May in two days before he was taken due to her schedule and now he’d never see her again. He was the last of her family and he was being selfish and leaving her alone. He’d already taken away he husband and now look at him? He breaks everything he touches.
He’s tired. He’s so tired. Peter lets his eyes close. He’s just going to nap.
“Kiddo? Rhodey he’s not responding he looks… fuck Rhodey clear me a path I’ve got to get him out of here! Peter, its me kid. You’re okay I’m going to take care of everything now so you just relax alright? Rhodes I swear to god if you don’t handle it.”
Peter frowns in his delirium. That voice sounds like Mr. Stark but that’s impossible. Peter’s dead. He was dying. He gave up right?
“I’ve got you buddy you’re going to be just fine,” the voice says again and it sounds a little robotic – just like Mr. Stark does in the Iron Man armor actually. He feels like he’s floating. “You’re aunt and I have been worried sick Petey, you didn’t even send a postcard!” The voice is trying to be humorous but is falling flat. It’s nice though. It’s been a long time since Peter has heard anything but his own thoughts.
“Just a quick little flight Webs,” he’s told, the ground rocking under him. It almost feels like being carried and it warms him just a little. His brain has been sabotaging him at every turn but at least its making his death peaceful.
“No no buddy,” the voice sounds a little frantic but its like listening through a pool of water. “Stay with me Peter, you’re going to be okay just stay with me.”
He hates disappointing the voice but he’s tired.
So tired.
Peter drifts.
1 note · View note
ghost-spidey · 4 hours ago
Tag Game
Thanx for the tag @winter-turtle! Here's a snippet of a non-powered au I was definitely not supposed to write this early. It's supposed to be postponed. I don't even have an ending to this:
She didn’t expect him to burst out laughing. “I am sorry, what about this sounds funny to you?” Regaining his composure, Peter grinned. “Funny? It’s fucking hilarious that you think I am the one in trouble here.” “Aren’t you though?” Ned asked from the backseat. “Leeds, I am retired gangster, stuck in a car with two of the best cops in the city, a brilliant hacker, and a wanna-be journalist being chased around by a bunch of literally trained assassins who might be blowing up the city. Who is really going to be in jail if this doesn’t go according to the plan? Because I am only a hostage who happens to be your chauffeur here.”
Tagging:@premiere-pro,@jinxquickfoot,@pursue-solitude, @momentofmemory No Pressure obviously.
5 notes · View notes
cyberdelph · 6 hours ago
Tumblr media
by multie96
41 notes · View notes
irondad-defensesquad · 8 hours ago
warmachineroxxs -> irondad-defensesquad
1 note · View note
firecracker121 · 9 hours ago
Ahhhh! I’m so happy your on tumblr! I love your fic and it’s one of my favorite Marvel fics!
Thank you so much!! That means so much to me :D btw, I love your profile picture. Is that from She-Ra? I’ve only recently discovered it and I LOVE it!!!
4 notes · View notes
stxphxn-strange · 10 hours ago
Stephen: Harley will probably need a first aid kit to take with him to summer camp.
Tony: I have Band-Aids, he'll be fine.
Stephen: Enough to last two months?
Tony: Harley knows that one (1) box of Band-Aids should last your entire life. This is a one (1) time purchase. When you die, you should have leftover Band-Aids for GENERATIONS to come.
Stephen: ... See that's EXACTLY why the both of you aren't in charge of this family's medical supplies.
53 notes · View notes
peter-parker-recs · 12 hours ago
Against all odds, Peter Parker is a senior in high school, along with his best friend, Ned Leeds, and his kind of scary girlfriend, MJ. Now he just has to survive the year and get into MIT without letting his extended family drive him crazy. The Avengers might be superheroes, but they're mostly super-sized pains in Peter's ass. Spoiler, he loves them anyway. Juggling school work, college applications, Tony Stark's 'how to be heir to a multibillion dollar company' boot camp (patent pending), and Spider-Man duties is harder than it looks.
This is basically all of the best most cliche and common tropes jammed into one fic, and it’s really well done. It goes through month by month and starts off with a Peter Parker’s Field Trip To SI chapter and goes through Peter’s senior year all while trying to balance his hectic life. I’d recommend this fic super heavily if you like field trip fics, Avengers as family, Peter calling Tony “Dad”, senior year, or Flash redemption arc fics.
2 notes · View notes
firecracker121 · 15 hours ago
Come check out my Ao3 fic My Friends are Ghosts. The fourteenth chapter is up!
2 notes · View notes
ghost-spidey · 15 hours ago
"Arachibutyrophobia" is the fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth.
Hi Anon, even though you sound like someone I know. That's a weird fact but I already knew that. Shocking I know but that's what happens when you go down the bottomless pit of the net at 3am on a typical Thursday.
Even though this wasn't a prompt here's a small ficlet:
"I am not eating it. What is that anyway?"
"It's a PB&J. And you are eating it."
Peter only looked at Ned petulantly like the five-year-old he was. What is going on you may ask? Well, Peter here forgot to bring his lunch but he won't eat it even after Ned insisted.
"Come on, Pete. It's just a sandwich. You will get really hungry when your mom comes."
"What if it gets stuck in my mouth? "
"Then eat the cookies instead. You can't stay hungry like that for so long. Eat something."
"Why didn't you say that before?"
"Hey honey, how was school today?"
"It was great. We learned about multiplication. It was really easy though"
"Mrs. Parker! Wait!"
Mary turned to look at Ned running towards them.
"Ned, honey, what happened? Is your mother here?"
"I am fine but Peter forgot his lunch today and we shared but he only ate some cookies. He won't even look at the peanut butter sandwich."
"Thanks, Ned. I should've checked earlier. Thank you for sharing."
"It's okay. Peter's my best friend. He shouldn't stay hungry all day! I should really go. My mom is waiting. Bye Pete!"
"Bye Ned!"
"He didn't eat peanut butter sandwiches which Ned brought. Says he refused to look at them."
"What if it got stuck in my mouth mom? I won't be able to talk"
Richard chuckled looking at his son."You could at least try it, buddy. It's not that bad."
"No. I am not eating peanut butter."
"Okay sport. You can eat grilled cheese instead. How's that sound?"
Peter immediately brightened, a huge smile on his face.
"So you have Arachibutyrophobia"
"It has a name?!?"
He turned towards the hallway with an amused smirk.
"Mr. Stark! Wait!"
10 notes · View notes
peter-is-a-bean · 16 hours ago
I used fanfiction to cope with the fact that my rabbit is gone, so here have this.
6 notes · View notes
asyouleft · 17 hours ago
Chapters: 5/11 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Ned Leeds, Peter Parker & May Parker Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Ned Leeds, May Parker, Stephen Strange, Wanda Maximoff, Bruce Banner Additional Tags: Multiverse, Hurt/Comfort, Dreams, Seizures, Light Angst, Humor, Fluff, Hurt Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Whump, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Wizards, Avengers Mansion, AU, Tony Stark Lives Summary:
“I think I know what’s going on.”
“Okay,” Tony said a little slowly.
“I think I’m traveling to another universe.”
There was a long silence that stretched across the room, the only sound coming from the faint drip of the IV in Peter’s arm, the whirl of the A/C in the vents.
“Pete,” Tony said, his hand reaching out for Peter’s ankle. “That’s… well, I mean I’ve seen a lot of things in my life but that doesn’t sound... plausible.”
(or Peter Parker’s Not So Fun Adventures In The Multiverse)
1 note · View note
shrinkthisviolet · 19 hours ago
for the character ask game - gonna MIX IT UP and ask for... michelle jones from the mcu? (- thinkingisadangerouspastime)
character: hate them | don’t really care | like them | LOVE them | THEY ARE MY PRECIOUS
ship them with: Peter Parker!
general opinions: Honestly, I didn’t think much of her in Homecoming–she intrigued me, and I wanted to know more, but she wasn’t really all that fleshed-out. She still isn’t–I wanna know her backstory, MCU!–but I could believe the romance between her and Peter much more easily in FFH than in Homecoming (in Homecoming, they barely seemed like friends, let alone lovers).
Oh also, @pursue-solitude writes an AMAZING version of her that’s kind of a Mary-Jane-Michelle-Jones hybrid. I 100% recommend their Marvel fics, they’re SO GOOD (with emphasis on May, MJ, and Ned, and their importance in Peter’s life, as it SHOULD BE)! Especially this fic (written with @blondsak), which is absolutely incredible.
Send me a character, and I’ll answer these questions for them!
8 notes · View notes
outoftheshadows-3004 · 23 hours ago
i show my love for fictional characters by bullying them help
5 notes · View notes
hale-13 · 23 hours ago
En Pointe
By Hale13
For the Summer of Whump Day 24 Prompt - Stitches
No matter how much she hates the Red Room, ballet is still Natasha’s go to stress relief. Peter is just curious and eager to learn.
Words: 2311, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English
Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Rating: Gen
Relationships: Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Characters: Peter Parker, Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark
TW: Broken Bones, Blood
Read on AO3 or below the line break.
“You do ballet?” Peter asks curiously as he watches Natasha tear the shank out of her new pointe shoes. Her old pair is still in pretty decent shape since she only dances on occasion now but its always been relaxing to sew and break in a new pair and it never hurts to have a few back ups.
“Sometimes,” she answers cryptically as she steps on the toe box with her bare heel to flatten it out, Peter watches her fascinated, venturing further into the room and sitting cross-legged a few feet from her. He’s careful not to touch any of her old shoes or the ribbons and other tools and materials spread out in a semi-circle around where she’s sitting. “Why?”
Peter’s fingers are twitching where he has them pressed into his thigh like he’s holding back from touching. “I did ballet as a kid. Just a few months of classes before my parents died and I was terrible but it was fun.”
Natasha hums as she reinforces the toe of the shoe with glue and fans it a little to dry it out. “You probably wouldn’t be so terrible now,” she tells him as she bends one shoe and then the other, enjoying the cracking noise they make as she works them in. She looks over to Peter to consider him for a moment. “Want to try?”
“With you?” He squeaks and its kinda adorable how nervous he is. Nat suppresses a smirk as she puts on her toe spacers and worn out toe pads – the lambs wool she modified these with is absolutely perfect and she won’t even consider using another pair until these designate around her feet.
“Of course,” she answers, standing up and bending first one shoe and then the other before going up en pointe and squatting to work in both shoes. She’ll need to dance on them for a few hours before they start feeling really good but they aren’t too bad right now. Sometimes new shoes just aren’t right no matter how well she prepares them but she has a good feeling about this pair. “You seem mostly coordinated as Spider-Man at least, I think you can handle a few basic positions.”
“Uh yeah,” Peter says, jumping to his feet like an over eager puppy and making Natasha smile a bit. “Yeah that sounds great!” She can almost see his tail wag.
She gestures to the barre running the length of the studio Tony had put in the compound just for her and has them face each other, correcting Peter’s posture as she goes. His sneakers are ratty and falling apart and she wrinkles her nose at them. She taps them with the hard side of the box of her shoe. “Lose those. I don’t have a pair of men’s shoes lying around so you can just go barefoot for now.” Peter hastens to do as she steps into some resin, crunching the small rocks into powder and rubbing it into the sole, box and sides of her shoes. By the time she’s done, Peter has positioned himself back at the barre, barefoot and with the hems of his pants cuffed up to mid calf.
He looks a little nervous and intimidated so Natasha give him a little smile as she hands the barre with her left hand and adjusts herself into first position as Peter stares intently. “We’re going to do some plié to start I’ll show you the positions; this is first.” Peter’s more graceful than she expected, his legs easily falling into place without shaking or him losing his balance like most new students was. She’s almost impressed.
Peter’s a surprisingly quiet student – she’s seen him in the lab with Tony and in the field where the kid is definitely what she would describe as a chatterbox. He asks a few questions here or there but, for the most part, he just observes and follows her lead. He picks up the positions quickly and Natasha puts on some music and instructs him through her usual warm up. By the end he’s sweating a little but he looks relaxed and a little pleased with herself.
“Can you teach me to spin?” He asks her a little shyly but with an undercurrent of excitement, shifting his weight from foot to foot like an overeager puppy and Nat gives him a soft smile.
“Sure,” she says, ditching her point shoes and slipping into some flats. “So you want to start off…”
He falls over the first few times but he nails a sloppy spin the fourth time. He stumbles a little once he stops, arms akimbo and legs spread for balance with a surprised look on his face. He looks at her for a second with a clear expression of ‘did I just do that?’ before letting out an excited laugh and fist pumping. “Holy shit!” He says under his breath and Natasha laughs with him – his good humor infectious. “That was so fun!”
“Try it again,” she says. “And this time keep your arms tucked in tighter and you head fixed on a point. Like this,” she demonstrates again, focusing on a dent in the wall to keep her head from spinning with her body and to keep her from getting dizzy. Peter tries again and cleans up his form a little.
“I think I’ve got it,” he says after another few turns and then he starts again, spinning once, twice, three times and, on the fourth rotation she sees his ankle twist as if in slow motion. Peter lets out a grunt as he loses his balance and, instead of falling, tries to stick to the floor with his abilities. His momentum continues to pull him though and she hears his leg crack in a sound that echos through the studio over the soft music and makes her hair stands on end.
“Fuck!” Peter exclaims and he drops, hitting the smooth wood floor hard and immediately dropping onto his back, face ghostly. His tibia has broken cleanly in two near his ankle and twisted to break through the skin in a grotesque fashion, leaking blood onto the previously pristine floors. Natasha immediately falls back into her extensive first aid training and drops to the floor next to Peter, tying one of her leftover ribbons around his upper calf in a crude tourniquet.
“Let’s get medical down here FRIDAY,” her voice is calm even though her heart rate is elevated. Peter looks about two seconds from passing out but pushes himself up with prodigious effort only to turn green when he sees his leg, turning away from her abruptly to gag and retch. “Get it all out,” she tells him, rubbing a hand across his clammy back.
“It’s…” Peter gags again. “The bone… I…”
“Don’t look at it,” Natasha says firmly, pushing him back to the floor. “Tony told me you were accident prone but I didn’t know you were this bad,” she tells him with humor, pulling off the shrug she had put over her leotard and leggings and mashing it firmly into the wound, making Peter moan and turn white.
“It’s Parker Luck,” he tells her, sounding out of it. He looks like he may pass out and that just won’t do – she needs to keep him awake.
“What’s that?” She asks, brushing the hair off his forehead in a tender gesture and massaging his scalp a little.
“Just my specific brand of bad luck,” Peter says a little sardonically, his voice wavering from the pain. She wants to ask more but the door at the opposite end of the studio flies open hard enough to hit the wall and bounce back as Tony – helicopter mentor extraordinaire – skids into the room and literally trips over his own feet to get to Peter’s side. Natasha would roll her eyes if she wasn’t so concerned herself.
“What happened?” Tony asks her, tone accusatory and Natasha gives him a sharp look.
“We were doing ballet and he spun just a little too hard,” Peter groans from the floor, this time from embarrassment and covers his face with his hands muttering ‘just let me die’ under his breath. Tony flicks him on the forehead.
“Don’t be a dramatic little shit,” he chastises, still looking more worried than anything. “Only you would manage to give yourself a compound fracture learning ballet of all things.”
“Don’t be mean to me,” Peter whines. “I’m injured!”
Natasha can’t hold back her snort at this, the situation would probably be a lot less humorous if she didn’t know Peter would likely be completely back to normal in a couple weeks or less with his healing factor. The kid was like rubber.
“What did you do this time?” Bruce calls from the doorway, pulling a gurney and followed by a small gaggle of nurses. Natasha steps back and away as one of them takes over putting pressure on the still bleeding puncture and pulls Tony with her. She knows that if he had his druthers he would glue himself to Peter’s side and aggravate Bruce and the other medical professionals to death.
The team is quick and efficient in stabilizing Peter’s leg with a temporary splint and loading him on the stretcher, bustling out of her studio with Tony following just as quickly as they came in. Nat isn’t a big fan of crowds so she stays behind, cleaning the tacky blood off the floor before it dries and sets. As it is, the fine grains of the wood are tainted and she knows she has no chance of cleaning all of it out and resigns herself to dealing with flaking blood on the toes of her pointe shoes for the foreseeable future.
Satisfied with her clean up job, she slinks back to her room and showers, washing the remnants of Peter’s blood off her hands and forearms and the sweat out of her hair. She changes into some loungewear and dries her hair and, figuring she’s probably stalled long enough, grabs a book at random from her bookshelf and makes her way to the medical floor.
The halls are silently when she arrives thankfully and the waiting room is empty bar Tony. He’s seated in one corner facing the hall that leads to the operating and recovery rooms and tapping something into his StarkPad, reading glasses perched onto the tip of his nose and in danger of slipping off the end. He looks relaxed which she takes to mean the Peter will be just fine – not that she expected any different.
Tony jumps when she settles into the chair next to him, glasses falling to the floor and nearly fumbling his tablet. He sends her a glare without heat – he’s always complaining about her sneaking up on him but its not her fault he isn’t observant – and sets the tablet aside.
“Well?” She asks, quirking one eyebrow in expectation.
“He’ll be fine,” Tony tells her, relief clear in his voice. “They’d normally have to put in a pin or two but, with his healing, they just want to flush it out really well to prevent infection and then reduce the fracture and throw in some stitches and a brace. He’ll be on bed rest and crutches for the next week or so until the stitches can come out and he can transfer to a boot but he’ll be back up in no time.”
Natasha nods, she expected all of this really and pulls her legs up to sit cross-legged in the small chair. She didn’t do a cool down after her work-out and she can already feel all of her ligaments tightening up – her hips and knees crack as she adjusts and make Tony wrinkle his nose in obvious disgust. “He was doing pretty good for a while,” she says breezily. Kid’s got natural talent.”
“He can’t walk across a flat surface without tripping,” Tony tells her. “Don’t let all of his Spider-Man acrobatics fool you – Peter’s as clumsy as they come. His aunt should have wrapped him and put him in a bubble years ago.”
She laughs, elbowing Tony in the side and dodging his returning nudge. “He’s good for you,” she tells him honestly and Peter really is. She’s known Tony for a long time, considers him one of her closest friends barring Clint and this is the happiest and most settled she’s ever seen him. It makes her happy.
Tony blushes and clears his throat, trying to hide it but she can see the satisfied little smile on his face. He can’t deny his happiness. “Anyway,” he tries, changing the subject swiftly – she lets him. “You’ll have to help keep him entertained since part of this was your fault after all.”
“Not my problem the kid’s an accident waiting to happen,” she says with no heat. She already plans to hang around during Peter’s recovery. She can teach him more about ballet if he wants, he could shape up to be a pretty decent partner with some practice and she thinks it might help him a little with his balance and enhancements. Control of your body is important for both after all.
Later when Bruce leads them to Peter’s recovery room he gives her a knowing look that she ignores in favor of perching on the edge of the bed and teasing Peter about his poor technique. He’s high as a kite from the enhanced pain meds and cackles at her good natured jokes. Tony threatens to put him in a cushioned room for the rest of his life and Peter rolls his eyes like this is all par for the course.
He falls asleep again pretty quickly, drooling onto the pillow and twitching a little as he dreams and Natasha feels her chest feel with warmth.
Yes, she thinks Peter will make an excellent student.
3 notes · View notes
crazyshay-gay · a day ago
Part 1 of my Wrong Number Kid rewrite is out now!
Young Peter Parker finally decided to go to a highschool party. Even though he's tried to stay clear of parties in fear someone would figure out he's trans, he decided to join his friends at the party after they begged him to go to one for the past few months. But what happens when Flash Thompson gives his crush the number but writes down the number wrong? What happens when the number Flash gives Peter actually ends up being Tony Starks phone number?
This fic contains:
~Trans Peter Parker (ftm)
~FlashPeter (Peter x Flash)
~Tom Holland spiderman
Trigger warnings:
~mention of suicide/self harm
~mentions of religion
Chapter 1 out now! words in part 1: 1,309 more parts to come!
1 note · View note
Do any of I'll have any trans man Peter Parker fics about when he's on his period and tony comforts him. I just need some of that comfort. You know? I'm on my period and it's annoying and hurting. So I just need the comfort fluff.
I'm gonna tag some people
@peter-is-a-bean @ravenstakeflight
16 notes · View notes