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retro-memo · 1 year

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For the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange and @iron-mum! I hope you enjoy this fic and I wish you a Merry Christmas!

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man), Happy Hogan, Dummy (Iron Man movies), You (Iron Man movies), Friday (Marvel), Karen (Spider-Man: Homecoming), Pepper Potts, Other Character Tags to Be Added

Warnings: Swearing

Ao3 link

"H'y Kar'n." Peter paused, taking a moment to swallow the bite he'd taken out of his sandwich. "Can you crank up the heat a little? It's getting chilly up here."

"Of course, Peter." Not even seconds later after she said that, there was a low sizzling and Peter leaned back into the suspended hammock he'd strung up earlier, basking in the warmth.

It was times like this when he really appreciated Mr. Stark's suit. Especially now that it was the middle of December and temperatures were way colder than they had any right to be.

Peter was pretty sure if he had been wearing his old suit — and no it wasn't a onesie. Stop calling it that, Mr. Stark — he would've probably gone from Spider-Man, and this was in May's words, to 'Spider-Popsicle'.

Which was something Peter found a little ridiculous since it hasn't even started snowing yet.

He would've been fine.

Well, he wouldn't have gone into a coma like last year when he was waiting for Mr. Stark to fix his usual suit after the wiring got damaged in the fire and he was stuck with his old one.

Maybe.

Peter groaned and threw his arm over his eyes, cursing his stupid spider DNA. Why couldn't he just have gotten the cool powers without basically having snow as his kryptonite?

Was that too much to ask of the universe?

"Peter, there's a police report of a bank robbery two blocks down from us."

"Wait, really?" Peter perked up at that and lifted his arm; all thoughts on spiders and the overprotective adults in his life flying out of the window.

"Yes, there are reports of six armed individuals holding several hostages in the building." Karen paused. "They appear to be possessing extraterrestrial firearms."

"Wait, extraterrestrial?" Peter froze, his outstretched wrist hovering mid-air from where he aimed it. "As in alien?"

"It appears so." That was the last thing that Peter expected to hear today. Especially since Toomes had been in jail for the better half of this last year. It couldn't have been him that sold these.

So it wasn't him, that meant it had to be someone else that sold these weapons…

"Should I contact Tony Stark?"

Peter blinked. "Uh, no. No." He shook his head. "You don't need to do that, Karen. I'll be fine."

At this point, he'd gotten very much used to Karen suggesting to call Mr. Stark. He had a sneaking suspicion that she'd been programmed to do that but decided to not question it. It was nice to know help was there if he needed it.

"Are you sure, Peter?"

"Yeah, besides what's the worst that could happen?" Peter paused only for a moment. "Hey Karen, do you think Mr. Stark would like an early Christmas gift?"

"While I can't speak personally, I believe he'd appreciate it. May I ask why?"

Peter grinned. "Send Mr. Stark a message that I'll be swinging by to drop off a present."

Tony had been having a pretty good morning if he had to say so himself.

For once, he actually got in a full night of sleep. And no; he didn't mean his usual two hour power catnap that came with ditching the other five in the lab way.

This time, he clocked in all seven hours and was energized in a way that he hadn't felt since forever.

Hell, even the cheese burgers and coffee he had ordered had tasted better than it had in ages. It felt as if nothing could ruin this day. Not even one of those dreary meetings that Pepper had set up for him seemed to dampen his mood.

That was until he got a message from Peter.

Tony didn't want to think the worst of the kid.

But goddamn, Peter made it hard. The newly-sprouted grey hairs on his head - that certainly weren't there before the kid practically bulldozed into his life like a bull in a China shop - were enough evidence of that.

So when he got the notification from the kid's suit about Peter dropping off a 'present', all sorts of possibilities immediately started whirling through his mind.

With the kid involved, that 'present' could range from a 'minor' stab wound to being shot or even impaled.

Tony tried not to think about those 'worst-case' scenarios as he glanced at the workshop's window. It was the one of kid's favorite spots to crawl through when he popped in for lab days after patrol.

The kid had to be fine. If he wasn't, Tony would've already known from the suit which was programmed to send out an automatic distress signal if something had gone wrong.

This time around, he'd even made sure to put extra encryption so that the heart-attack-inducing kid wouldn't be able to hack into it again with his grubby fingers.

Unless the kid somehow managed to bypass the codes again and was bleeding out somewhere without Tony knowing. Too far away to call for any help.

Alone. Cold. Hurt and -

"Hey, Mr. Stark!"

"Holy shit!" Tony jumped, the soldering iron that he'd been holding clattering onto the metal table below as he whirled around to where the offending voice had come from.

"No, just me." The kid's head popped through the window, and even through the window, and even with the damn mask on, Tony could practically see the grin from where he was standing

The little shit.

"Oh, hey, kid." Tony crossed his arms, watching Peter as he crawled through the window. The kid seemed fine, his movements didn't seem jerky, there wasn't any visible blood that he could see and -

"What the fuck is that?" Tony knew what it was. He recognized it as soon as the kid landed on his feet and turned to face him but still.

"Uh." The kid shrugged as if the glowing alien weapon wrapped up in his arms wasn't a big deal. It was comically picture perfect to the whole damn turtle fiasco from a few months ago. "Merry Christmas?"

"Where the hell did you get that thing?"

"I found it on patrol." The kid answered like it explained everything and Tony stared.

So much for a good morning.

"What are we going to do with it?"

"We're not going to do anything." Tony leveled a glare with Peter. "I'm going to take this Happy and have him deal with it the way he wants to and you're going up to your room."

He should've known that with Peter, it wasn't going to ever be that easy.

"Why do I have to go to my room?" The kid looked awkward but determined as jutted his chin up and shifted on his feet the same way he always did when he didn't agree with Tony.

In a way, it reminded Tony of May whenever they would get into an argument. Which didn't happen a lot even after finding out about Peter's alter-ego.

"I didn't even get hurt this time and technically, I got the weapons here. Finder's keepers."

Kids these days and their damn loopholes.

Tony scowled. "One, because I said so and two, I know for a fact that you have one of those fancy language quizzes tomorrow. May called me earlier to make sure that you study for it if you swung by."

"Wait, you talk to my aunt?"

"Just give me the weapon."

"But—"

"No." Tony shook his head. "Kid, I value my life. I'm not going to risk it with your scary aunt."

Tony wasn't exaggerating there. May was terrifying in her own right. He'd been there to witness how May transformed from Peter’s usual sweet aunt into a pissed off mother bear who’d tear his head off if it meant protecting her cub.

He wasn't going to go through it again.

"Please?" Goddammit. The kid was on the verge of pulling out the big guns; those damn puppy eyes that made even the coldest of men melt into a warm puddle of goo. Tony knew if he didn't get this finished quick, it was going to be game over.

"Come on, Pete." He was on the verge of begging the kid to throw him a bone. A small chance. He could feel himself crumbling, just as he had with the turtle. "Just hand it over. I promise later after you've finished studying, we can blow up some other stuff here in the lab."

The kid didn't miss a beat. "Can we work on it for five minutes, please?"

And there they were. Those puppy-dog eyes that not even Tony on one of his best days he could say no to.

His mouth dried as he stared at the kid, who was clutching the weapon against his chest. Like it was a stuffed animal rather than something capable of massive destruction.

He groaned, throwing his hands up, finally waving the white flag of defeat. "Fine! But if your aunt asks, say that you were doing boring non-dangerous shit."

The kid grinned, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as if he didn't con Tony into risking his life on the line. "Thanks, Mr. Stark! You're the best!"

"Uh-huh." Tony waved Peter off. "You better remember that next time when you're grounded."

The kid giggled and Tony rolled his eyes as he turned back to the table and picked up the soldering iron that he'd dropped before.

He faced the kid again, gesturing to the table behind him. "Okay, gently, place here. We don't want to accidentally blow that thing up. For all that we could know, just sneezing the wrong way could make it go off."

Tony took a small step back, making room for the kid but keeping an eye on the weapon as Peter moved past him.

Once it was on the table and he was satisfied that it didn't look like it was going to blow up anytime soon, he felt the tension in his shoulders loosen.

"Alright." Tony tore his eyes from the weapon. It was fine. Nothing bad had happened. They were fine. Peter was fine. "Alright, I'm going to get a few tools."

He paused, giving Peter a pointed stare. "Do not touch that thing while I'm gone."

"Yeah, mom." The kid snarked back. "I'll be fine, don't worry. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Famous last words," Tony grumbled under his breath, stalking away and passing Dum-E on the way. He pointed a stern finger at the bot, who had for the past hour been trying to find the screwdriver that Tony 'lost', and asked the bot to find. "Don't let the kid get into any trouble, you hear? If he does, I'll be donating your parts to MIT."

The bot whirled at that and Tony shook his head. However, he'd barely taken another step when it all happened at once.

He felt the blast of heat hit his back before even hearing it. He was blown forwards, his insides feeling as if they were ricocheting against his skeleton as he hit the ground.

And just like that, as quickly as it had started, it was over.

Everything was silent as Tony pushed himself up, having been blown forward hard enough to have lost his balance in chaos.

It was quiet. Way too quiet. Even straining past his ringing ears, Tony couldn't hear anything. All he could hear was his thundering heart beating against his chest.

Oh God. Peter.

"Kid!"

Tony scrambled to his feet, whirling around to where the kid was, his heart in his throat at the cloud of smoke covering the whole lab.

"Pete!" He ran, a million possibilities running through his head. Distantly, he heard the lab sprinklers turn on but paid little to no attention to them. "Buddy, you there?"

He didn't get any reply and Tony was almost scared as he came to a stop where the kid should've been. Where he left him with that damn weapon. He should've known better, shouldn't have turned his back and now Peter was -

That was when Tony heard it. The smallest of coughes but it was enough to jumpstart his heart faster than a V8 roaring to life, but something stopped him from running forward.

Terror gripped Tony so that he stayed rooted in place as it overwhelmed him. Fearing that he'd just heard the kid's final breathes.

"Kid?" Tony took a hesitant step forward, almost too scared to peer through the smoke and -

He blinked once. Twice. And then a few more times because there wasn't the burnt-to-a-crisp corpse or pile of ash that he'd conjured up from the darkest depths of his worst fears.

No, no, no. It wasn't that but rather, there was a baby.

A baby, who barely reached to Tony's knee and was waist deep in the Spider-Man suit with hair soaking wet from the sprinklers. It was rubbing its eyes, letting out the smallest of coughs and whinning, its little chest heaving with the action.

Tony stared. He was a genius. He could put two and two, together. Heck, he could do even more than that.

That didn't stop him from freaking the fuck out.

This had to be some sick part of his imagination or he'd finally gone crazy from the blast hitting the back of his head too hard. Because there was no way that this was possible.

Still, Tony swallowed and opened his mouth. "Kid?"

If it wasn't possible for Tony's heart to beat faster than it had before, it certainly was now. The baby tensed at Tony's voice, its head turning up to him, blinking up at him with those oh-so-familiar brown eyes. "Mr. St'k?"

It was muffled, choppy, and barely coherent but it was enough. The final nail in the coffin. It confirmed everything. Any sliver of hope that Tony had that the baby in the middle of his lab wasn't who he thought it was, vanished with that single word.

"Oh God." Tony stumbled back, gripping onto the table nearest to him to stop his legs from giving out from under him.

He stared at the very small and fragile baby a few feet in front of him while his heart throbbed in his chest. It felt ready to jump out from his throat and throw itself out of the nearest emergency exit.

"Shit, Pete." Tony closed his eyes and shook his head, letting out a small giddy laugh that felt as if it quaked his heart with it. "You're a baby."

And May is going to kill me.

#irondad and spiderson #Exchange Gift Fic #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #spiderson #ao3

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spideypoolficexchange · 6 months

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Rules, FAQ and Timeline

It has come to my attention that the rules page is not mobile friendly, sorry about that! I’m putting it all here and will pin this post to the page for easy access for the future. ♥️

Basic Rules:

Participants must be 18+.

Fics must be a minimum of 1,000 words.

Fics must be Spideypool-centric.

Please follow the spirit of the event and the requests as much as to the letter. If it’s only technically or incidentally Spideypool, or if it’s not technically what the listed squick was, please request/write something else.

That’s about it! No event-given limits beyond that, go nuts!

Timeline:

Sign-ups open: Sunday, November 12

Sign-ups close: Saturday, November 18 at 6pm Eastern Time

Prompts go out: Saturday, November 25 (or earlier, if the matches are done before then!)

Deadline to post: Tuesday, January 2, 2023 at 11:59pm EST

Rules and FAQ (extended):

What is this event?

Essentially, you receive a person to write a fic for, along with up to 3 prompts. You write one of these prompts and then gift it to them, on AO3 and/or Tumblr. And it’s all anonymous until the fic is posted! If you’ve heard of a Secret Santa event, this is the same idea, just with an attempt at a more inclusive name.

How do I sign up?

Fill out this Google Form (closed until November 12). You’ll receive an email with your responses and voila, you’re all done!

This event is now reserved for those 18+, so please be sure you’re at least 18 before signing up.

Do try to keep the prompts open! Remember, this is a gift, not a commission. You will not have precise control over what is made, and that’s part of the spirit of the exchange!

How long does my fic need to be?

1,000 words. There is no word limit, but if your giftee has stated they are not okay with receiving a WIP, please do keep in mind your time limit and adjust your length accordingly.

Do my prompts have to be holiday-themed?

Nope! Prompts can be for any holiday or completely unrelated to one.

Is [blank] allowed?

The only requirements are to keep it Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, and to work off the prompt(s) and DNWs (do-not-wants) given. So long as you’re trying to give your giftee something they will enjoy, the fest has no other limitations on what content is allowed.

*Note: prompts must be Spideypool-centric. E.g., you can request Spideypool with background Irondad, but please don’t request Irondad with background Spideypool. It’s not what the event is for, and makes it much harder on the mods to pair people up.

There are three prompts. How many do I need to write?

Only one! If you have the time and energy to fill more, then go right ahead! Though I suggest finishing one before starting on another, so you don’t risk leaving your giftee with nothing.

#spideypool fanfic #spideypool #fic exchange #spideypool fic exchange #peter parker x wade wilson

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finitepeace · 4 months

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december reads: tony fics

read some tony stark fics

L'Hopital's Rule by FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls | ironstrange, 14.320 words, T, post endgame | Or, five times Tony Stark was Stephen’s emergency contact, and one time he was someone else’s. 14320 words, T

The Northern Cascades by resurrectedhippo | stevetony, 81k words, E, kind of road trip au | A post-Infinity War fix-it set three years after the Snap where Steve tries to outrun his grief. This time, Tony runs after him.

Father and Son by Anonymous | irondad but also stevetony, 5291 words, G, part of 2023 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange | Peter should have seen it coming. All hell breaks loose when his secret identity as Spider-Man is revealed. His parents take the news about as well as you'd imagine, and it escalates all too quickly. But his family wouldn't be his family if they didn't work through it. Together.

#ironstrange #irondad #stony #stony fic rec #stevetony fic rec #ironstrange fic rec #irondad fic rec

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imyoursavinggrace · 1 year

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✨Irondad Fic Exchange 2023✨

For the wonderful @littlemissagrafina for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange ❤️

Summary: “What the hell is that?” Tony demanded.

“Uh, a dog?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “I can see that. You got a dog?”

“Um, not exactly,” Peter stuttered, shifting on the spot. “You got a dog.”

"I'm sorry, what?"

Or: Peter starts bringing stray animals home, much to Tony and Mays horror, but luckily Tony always has a way to help his Spider-Baby.

#ao3 feed #fanfic #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #spiderson #iron dad #spider son #iron dad and spider son #ao3fic #Spider-Man #friendly neighbourhood exchange

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rob1ndad · 1 year

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looking for irondad multuals who like writing ficsss <3

if you want to do some sort of fic exchange PM me !!! (No X reader pls)

#iron dad #irondad fic #irondad and spiderson #irondad ao3

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silently-waiting-for-you · 1 year

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Marvel

Trope: irondad fluff

boogie woogie woogie

Peter doesn’t call Mr.Stark dad out loud, that’d be weird. He doesn’t even call him Tony out loud very much. He’s not even on first name basis out loud. It’s just, you don’t have to say things out loud when fate- or some exploding evil nazi science equipment- decides you should hear each other's thoughts.

(I haven’t seen many fics about the moment ‘the kid’ turned into ‘my kid’ for Tony, so I wanted to write one from Peter’s pov)

. . . . .

carrer day

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Peter’s enhanced senses picked up the familiar voice from outside the door. “I had a meeting this morning, and then I got lost looking for the class… anyway, I’m here for Peter? Peter Parker?”

He frowned at hearing his name, still unsure what exactly was going on. He watched as his teacher continued to stand and stare out the door for a minute before seemingly remembering herself and taking a step back.

“Of course! If you could just go sit next to him until your turn, he’s in the back on the right side.”

The man stepped through the door and Peter gaped with the rest of the class as Tony Stark, in his signature suit and goatee, sporting a pair of red sunglasses and carrying a suitcase walked through the door.

Prompt: Okay but what abt Tony going in to Peter’s school for career day? Like where the parents talk abt their jobs?

. . . . .

flu shot chronicles

Morgan Stark does not like shots. Neither does Peter Parker.

. . . . .

happy halloween, mr. stark

The first time Peter and Tony spend Halloween together, it isn’t exactly planned.

Tony just sort of...shows up, knocks on the door and grins wide when Peter opens it.

''Mister Stark? What are you doing here?''

. . . . .

hours of horror, black and white edition

“That’s not—” he’s instantly protesting. “You’re a liar! A dirty, dirty liar, Miss Potts.”

“I thought our philosophy is we aren��t going to lie to our children?”

“It is! Yet here you are spilling all my secrets faster than—”

Pepper puts out her palm, silencing him. “Please refrain from pop culture references, there’s only so much I can take in a day.”

“Aah, Pepper; you’re no fun. I had a hunch he was gonna quote something from Buzzfeed Unsolved.” his kid pouts.

***

Or, an October tradition where Peter and Ned and MJ watch old horror films and it's the Starks' turn to host

. . . . .

i will soften every edge

“You’re telling me,” he swallowed, “that my body thinks I’m Peter’s dad?”

“And it has prepared itself for parenthood in response, yes.”

After a simple brain scan, F.R.I.D.A.Y. reveals something that Tony already knew, but may not have been ready to accept. Luckily, Peter's always there to help him re-find his footing.

. . . . .

in an empty moral space

“Bring Spider-Man to us, Mr. Stark,” High-heels says and rattles off an address. “If that bug isn’t here in the next twenty four hours, then your intern gets it. We are not going to ask a second time.”

There’s a pause.

Then, “You want Spider-Man?”

“In exchange for your intern,” High-heels affirms.

“Spider-Man,” Mr. Stark repeats. He sounds more amused than worried for Peter’s apparent safety.

also known as: Peter Parker is held hostage…in order to get to Spider-Man. Throw in some Accords reconciliation and, well, Peter’s life just got a whole lot weirder.

. . . . .

lifesize

Morgan’s little fists are shaking in front of her, grasping at nothing. She quickly moves aside as Tony is now standing directly in front of the tent. Morgan's small jumps where she is standing are overflowing with anticipation. Pepper stands next to her as Tony eyes the tent in front of him, newspaper in hand.

“Alright, little miss," he says with a breath, looking down at her, "what’s the drill? How do you want us to handle this?”

“All the tea party guests have to survive.”

“10-4. Pep,” he says as he looks up at her, “you ready?”

“Oh, no. You’ve got this one.”

Tony stares at her for a moment, his deadpan expression way funnier than it should be.

Morgan tells Tony there's a spider in her tent. Newspapers, surprises, and uncontrollable laughter ensues.

. . . . .

mutants

All teachers dread parent-teacher night. This one's worse than usual.

Feat. Boundaries? I don't know this word. He's not my boyfriend! Flash Thompson's A+ parents Tony and Peter are enormous nerds Gym class is important Oh my God, what's that in the bio lab

and many more

. . . . .

not really an intern

Field trip trope - yeah.

After the near-end of the universe, Stark Tower reopens to tour groups. Midtown is invited to be the first.

Includes: fluff, mostly fluff let's be real. Irondad. Peter and Morgan bonding because I love them.

. . . . .

stark’s home for wayward animals

“Peter?” he calls. “That you looming around in the dark and falling on your ass?”

“Uh.” Peter’s voice. Two more meows.

“Are you meowing at me?” Tony asks, weaving around the wet spots on the ground. “Is this happening? Is there something you wanna tell me?”

“I’m—I’m not.”

Tony narrows his eyes and turns the corner. Peter is splayed out on the third stair, in his Spiderman suit sans the mask, soaked to the bone. His hair is plastered to his forehead, he’s shivering, and he’s holding a gray cat clutched to his chest.

Tony stares at him. Both Peter and the cat are looking at him, wide-eyed, and then the cat meows again, breaking the silence.

“What’s happening right now?” Tony asks.

. . . . .

that's how you and i will be

Tony cuddles babies.

Tony Stark cuddles babies.

Iron Man is good with babies.

No matter which way Peter tries to spin this newfound knowledge in his mind, it still doesn’t make sense.

. . . . .

the moon and stars (and gummy worms where they shouldn't be)

Peter has a problem. Mr. Stark is his father. Not his surrogate father, but his actual legitimate father. Peter wants to tell him, but he’s afraid of being rejected because he’s not really ‘heir’ material. He’s just an intern. He’s just Spider-Man. He thinks he could tell Mr. Stark if he was certain Mr. Stark already loved him like a son, but Peter just can’t be sure, that is, until Ned comes up with a plan.

Peter brings Tony crazy things to eat so he can evaluate his reactions.

. . . . .

tony stark needs sleep squad

Once this became a habit, Rhodey had created a very exclusive club that only the people closest to Tony were a part of. He called it the ‘Tony Stark Needs Sleep Squad’. It was an illustrious group with only three members. The name was wordy but the purpose was clear. The dang idiot needed to sleep.

. . . . .

trope: hair playing

Tony Stark may or may not be upset about having to 'lay low' in a shitty motel of the interstate. Peter Parker may or may not be upset about having to drastically change his appearance.

Red-coloured fluff ensues.

. . . . .

two left feet

“Mr. Stark?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s okay to call me Tony?”

Peter at least has the decency to look sheepish at this and shrugs. “Sorry... Tony. Anyway, I know your wedding to Miss. Po—Pepper—is coming up soon and I know you told me Michelle can come as my date, which I’m super thankful for, like super-super thankful, but I was wondering... like... I dunno, could you...?”

“Peter, I have absolutely no idea where you’re going with this or what you’re asking me to do. You gotta give me something here, kid.”

“Canyouteachmehowtodance?”

. . . . .

resurrection

Thanos wins, for a time.

One year later, Peter wakes up in the woods.

. . . . .

sick days and other lies

Midtown High is going on a field trip to Stark Industries and Peter Parker will not be attending. That is, he thinks he won't be, but everything in the world seems to be against him. It's hard leading a double life before you're old enough to vote!

. . . . .

a symphony of color

The first thing Peter does once he can effectively maneuver the compound with his crutches is find a notebook that can fit in his pocket. He grabs a pen from one of the many junk drawers and starts a list of everyone he’s talked to so far.

Mr. Stark - Brown, the filling in cinnamon buns, the teddy bear in the baby photo hanging on the fridge.

Aunt May - Dusty pink, Grandma Parker’s old couch.

Pepper - Silver, fancy necklace chains, handcuffs.

He taps the end of the pen against his chin. He needs to talk to more people.

---

Peter wakes up with synesthesia after a fight.

. . . . .

we're not trying to reinvent the backpack here (mark 1-9)

When Peter sheepishly asked if Mr. Stark would buy him a new backpack, he did not expect his mentor to spend weeks on end trying to make the best backpack in the world for a superhero-kid.

He didn't expect that much effort, but he definitely should have.

. . . . .

what’s up, grandpa?

On the off chance Tony is out and comes across someone who doesn't recognize him, it's not too out of the ordinary for someone to mistake him and Peter for father and son. It's a mistake that he loves, a mistake that warms his heart. Because as far as he's concerned, Peter is his kid and always will be.

And when he has another kid, a small and tiny baby girl, the mistake keeps happening. People still think Peter is Tony's son.

He just isn't prepared for people to think Morgan is his granddaughter.

. . . . .

who's the baby now?

after an accident in the laboratory, Tony Stark finds himself aged down to roughly a year old. Which wouldn’t be so bad, except he quickly discovers that his brain hasn’t entirely been taken over by a drooling colorful mush and shards of his grown-up conscience leak through. Which makes it all the more boggling when Pepper invites Peter over, ‘to babysit’.

”Mr. Stark’s a baby!” Peter squeaked, mouth gaping. At the sound of his protege’s voice, Tony dived over to the door of the playpen. What the hell was Pepper playing at?!

#irondad #irondad and spiderson #spiderman #spiderson #iron man #peter parker #tony stark

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joyful-soul-collector · 1 year

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What was the most fun you had while writing?

Happy FFWF!

Oh gosh I'm not sure! I know fic exchanges have always been fun, so maybe the Irondad fic exchange? I wonder if the MK fandom will have one someday. Maybe for the holidays??

#FFWF

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ao3feed-friendsofspiderman · 2 years

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another boring a** twitter fic

by LordCroussette

Yet Another Twitter Fic!

Going against the wishes of May, Penny Parker decide to make herself her own Twitter account, quickly connecting with all of her friends on the platform. However, one exchange between her and Tony result in the internet having a small meltdown as they try to figure out whether or not Penny is Tony Stark's illegimate child from his playboy days. Meanwhile, Harley Keener is finally reconnecting with Tony and get interested in knowing more about the beautiful girl his mentor and father-figure emotionally adopted.

Oh, and did I mention how Penny Parker finds out she was adopted by Richard and Mary Parker?

Words: 2792, Chapters: 3/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker, Harley Keener, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds, Betty Brant, Flash Thompson, Pepper Potts

Relationships: Harley Keener/Peter Parker, Tony Stark/Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Harley Keener & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker

Additional Tags: IronDad and SpiderSon, Social Media, Inspired by Twitter, Female Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Genius Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Protective Harley Keener, Adopted Peter Parker, Harley Keener is a little shit, No Bashing, But Penny really doesn't like Steve and Natasha

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/38920590

#Peter Parker #Michelle Jones #Ned Leeds #FOS #fanfic

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geeky-writes · 3 years

Text

Peter’s Christmas Wish

Written for @sdottkrames for the @irondad-fic-exchange 😊

Sometimes Christmas wishes really do come true.

To Tony, Christmas had always been just another day. But to Peter, Christmas was a chance to help change their lives.

Part of the Pieces of Echoes Series

#irondad fic exchange #iron dad fanfiction #superfamily fanfiction #iron dad and spider son #baby peter #dad tony #papa steve #peter’s christmas wish #pieces of echoes series #geeky writes

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madasthesea · 4 years

Text

how can the body die? (you tell me, everything)

Read on AO3

Peter tumbled in the window, leaving a bloody streak on the glass.

It was a sight Tony had seen—in reality and in his nightmares—too often.

He was next to Peter before the kid had even managed to find his feet, arm around him as he hauled him up.

“He got me,” Peter panted, turning his face into Tony’s neck as a groan slid between his teeth. “He, he got—he wasn’t that fast, before, I—”

“Hush,” Tony said, his tone softened by the gentle hand cradling Peter’s head. He peered down at Peter’s side, where the suit was dark with blood, scraps of shredded fabric sticking to Peter’s skin.

“Who got you?” He asked as he began dragging Peter toward the Medbay. The wound was a strange teardrop shape and it looked deep.

Peter tripped on his feet, his hand automatically reaching up to cover his side when the movement jostled him.

“Scorpion,” he sighed. “His, well—the stinger. On the suit.”

“Jeez, kid,” Tony murmured, wincing as he imagined the large, metal barb piercing Peter’s side, tearing skin and muscle as it was ripped back out.

Peter just made a pained sound, his eyes drooping as they staggered into the Medbay.

Tony helped him on the cot, getting a penlight to get a better look at the wound.

“FRIDAY, get Cho here. I want her to do the stitching,” he said. “This is really deep, kid.”

“It hurts,” Peter whined, his fingers clenching and unclenching against the bed.

“I bet it does,” Tony agreed, briefly placing his palm on Peter’s forehead. Peter’s eyes opened just enough to look up at Tony, his expression bordering on pleading. Tony’s voice softened. “We’ll get you some medicine real soon, ok, buddy? I promise.”

Peter’s eyes looked suspiciously watery, but he nodded, biting his bottom lip.

“Ok. Let’s get you out of the suit, yeah? Get you comfortable?”

Tony peeled the top half of the suit off as gently as possible, but tacky blood and sweat made the material stick to the wound and by the time it was down to Peter’s waist, the kid was practically sobbing.

“It hurts,” Peter gasped, tears leaking into his hair. “Mr. Stark, it really hurts.”

Tony frowned and gave up on the rest of the suit, leaning over Peter and pushing his bangs back from his forehead. As painful as the wound looked, it was strange that Peter was reacting so badly to it. Tony had seen him walk on a broken leg with less complaint.

“It’s ok, Pete. It’s ok,” he assured, feeling panic creep up his spine. Something was occurring to him, slowly percolating in the back of his mind. He swiped a tear off Peter’s face, then tapped his cheek to get the kid to look at him.

Peter squinted up at Tony, his face white as a sheet, his entire body trembling.

“You said the stinger got you. Is Scorpion’s stinger venomous?”

“I don’t—” Peter cut off as he groaned, the muscles in his jaw tight. “I don’t know. He upgraded—he was faster. Bigger. I—I thought I could beat him.”

“Alright, buddy, take a breath,” Tony soothed, putting a hand on Peter’s chest. “I’m going to take a blood sample and we’ll—”

He was interrupted as Peter twisted on the cot; a cut-off scream ripped out of his throat. He bit it back a second too late, his head thrown back in agony. Tony flinched at the sound, surprised and horrified.

“Peter.”

“Tony,” Peter begged. “It hurts so bad,” his voice broke as his chest heaved, nearly hyperventilating.

“I’m gonna fix it.” The promise spilled out of his mouth before his mind could fully form it. He watched as Peter bit down so hard on his lip that he drew blood before finally springing into action. He rushed to a cupboard and nearly snapped the door off its hinges as he flung it open, grabbing a blood test kit. “I’m gonna fix it, buddy, just hold on.”

Tony hands shook so badly he had to tear the packaging open with his teeth, but he forced himself to take a deep breath as he wrestled Peter’s hand into his. Peter’s hands were shaking too, his fingers curling and uncurling at random.

“I’ve got to get some blood, Pete,” Tony said. “Hold still, just-just for a second, alright Spidey? I need you to hold still.”

Peter’s every exhale was a whine of pain, sweat glinting on his forehead and chest. His eyebrows were bunched together, his entire face creased in pain. He gave Tony a look that clearly said that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop the trembling.

“Ok,” Tony breathed. “Ok, then, just—sorry. This is going to be a bit of a mess.”

It took three tries to get a clean enough puncture that Tony could smear a bit of blood onto a glass plate, but Peter was so caught up in his head, in the pain from the wound and what Tony was sure was poison coursing through his system, he didn’t notice. Tony still bent and pressed a quick kiss to Peter’s fingertips in apology.

He set the blood sample on the machine to be analyzed, then hurried back to Peter’s side. Peter, who was practically tearing the mattress he was laying on as his back arched, tears still dripping down his face.

“Peter, just—here, hold my hand, ok?” Tony said, sitting on the edge of the bed and bending low over Peter, as if to physically shield him. He combed his hand roughly through Peter’s sweat-damp curls.

“Can’t,” Peter panted, shaking his head.

“Sure about that?” Tony asked. Peter opened one eye and Tony waved at him, the nanotech gauntlet glinting in the light. “Hi. Iron Man. Hold my hand, kid, stop destroying my medbay.”

Peter’s breathy laugh was mostly forced, but he did snag Tony’s hand tight in his own, holding them both close to his chest, every muscle in his body rigid. Tony adjusted to compensate, crowding over Peter, trying to give him some physical assurance, some emotional anchor, even if he couldn’t take the pain away.

Tony kept raking his hand through Peter’s hair, bent low enough that, if he let himself, he could press his forehead to Peter’s temple.

“I’d rather you scream than break your teeth trying to hold it in, Pete,” Tony said, his voice hoarse around the words.

Almost immediately, Peter gave a short, guttural yell, his body jerking as he curled around their joined hands.

Tony couldn’t help himself as he flinched at the sound.

“Sorry,” Peter hiccupped, tears dripping steadily off his nose.

“Don’t.” His tone was snappish, but he knew Peter would see behind the anger to the terror coursing through Tony’s veins much like the venom through Peter’s.

Peter forced one eye open, looking up at Tony in his peripheral. “Poison?” he asked meekly.

Tony wiped some blood from Peter’s bottom lip with his thumb, wincing in sympathy.

“Think so.” He sat up enough to look over his shoulder at the computer. “Should know any—"

Peter’s teeth clacked as his jaw snapped together. The hand around Tony’s tightened until it was crushing the metal, pushing the nanobites into Tony’s skin.

“Peter?” Tony whirled back around, leaning away so he could get a good look at Peter’s face.

Peter’s eyes were rolled up in his head, every muscle taut and shaking.

Tony breathed out a curse, unable to look away from the teenager having a seizure in his arms. He knew, in some distant part of his mind, what you were supposed to do when someone was having a seizure, but all he could focus on was Peter’s face, the little noises of pain he was making as he struggled to get a breath.

He sat frozen as the tremors slowly stopped, as Peter went completely limp, finally releasing the too tight grip on Tony’s hand.

“Peter?” he whispered, his own hand shaking as he raised it to Peter’s throat.

Tony jumped as a different hand batted his away and he looked up into the determined face of Dr. Cho.

“Move,” she barked, pressing her own fingers against Peter’s pulse.

It took Tony’s mind a second to catch up, but once it did, he stood on weak legs, moving to the head of the cot where Helen wouldn’t need to be, and leaned against the wall. He crossed his arms tight against his chest to hide the mangled remains of the gauntlet, ignoring the cuts he could feel in his skin.

“How long?” Cho asked, lifting Peter’s eyelids and shining a light in them.

“Twenty-four seconds,” FRIDAY immediately responded, which was good, because Tony had no idea. He’d been so panicked he’d forgotten to count.

“Heartrate and breathing are stable,” she muttered before turning attention to the sluggishly bleeding wound in Peter’s side.

“He was poisoned,” Tony said numbly, hardly aware that his mouth was moving.

Helen spared him a glance, then looking toward the computer screen where the results were just starting to come up.

“FRIDAY, alert the on-call team. I want everyone up here.”

Tony’s heart sank to the floor. He pushed himself off the wall and came closer, feeling clumsy and detached.

“Why? What is it?”

Helen opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off by a low groan from the bed.

Tony instantly turned all of his attention to Peter, standing by the bed and putting a hand on his head.

“Easy, kid,” Tony murmured, the relief that he felt seeing Peter slowly blinking up at him enough to make his throat tighten with emotion.

Peter gasped as he moved his head to look at Tony, his eyes slamming shut again. He swore quietly and Tony did his best to force a laugh, to brush off the concern he could feel in his expression, knowing that Peter would notice.

“How you doing, Pete?” Tony asked, leaning over so Peter could look at him easier.

“Um,” Peter hesitated. “Ow.” The humor in the understatement was ruined when his voice broke.

Tony sighed, pressing his thumb against the soft skin behind Peter’s ear.

Helen strode forward so she was in Peter’s line of sight.

“Good news, Peter,” Dr. Cho said, offering a tight-lipped smile as the kid looked up at her with pain written on every line of his face. “We can go ahead and give you some pain medication now and then get that wound stitched closed.”

Peter’s eyes watered at the prospect of some relief and he nodded in acknowledgment. One of the nurses quickly got an IV line set up.

The wound was already beginning to close, without being cleaned or anything, so they couldn’t wait for the medication to take effect. Peter was in so much pain from the poison that his defenses were down, his admittedly impressive limits well beyond met.

“Mr. Stark,” he whimpered, looking for Tony amid the bustle.

He was just a child. Tony swallowed hard.

“Right here, buddy,” he assured, coming closer.

Cho began rinsing the wound. Peter squeezed his eyes closed, a tear tracing down his cheek as he did.

Tony’s fingers were gentle as he wiped it away, brushing his knuckle under Peter’s eye.

“Hey, it’s ok, Pete, come on,” he soothed into Peter’s ear.

“Everything hurts,” Peter whispered. “My blood feels like fire.”

“Those meds are going to kick in any second, I promise,” Tony lied. He had no idea if the pain killers would be effective against whatever was in his system. He could only pray that they would be, that they would at least put Peter to sleep so he wouldn’t have to feel the excruciating pain.

Halfway through the stitching—with Peter hissing and whimpering with every one, making Tony’s chest ache as he sat, uselessly stroking Peter’s hair and murmuring reassurance—the medicine did seem to kick in. Peter’s head lolled to the side, but Tony’s hand was there to support him, cupping his cheek as he adjusted Peter’s neck to a more comfortable angle.

“That’s right, you go ahead and sleep, kiddo,” Tony murmured. “I’ll take care of you.”

Peter’s eyes met his, so full of pain and trust that it cut Tony to his core. Because he didn’t know if he could take care of Peter. He’d failed to protect him and now he might fail to save him.

Tony sat and held Peter’s hand long after he had fallen asleep.

The nurses were quiet as they cleaned Peter up and got him out of the Spider-Man suit and into a hospital gown. Tony stayed where he was even as another nurse carefully plucked broken nanobots from his hand, wrapping it in bandages. Once that was taken care of, Tony asked for a wet rag, which he was given, and delicately washed Peter’s face of sweat and tears while he waited for Cho to be finished.

Peter still trembled, even in his sleep.

“Tony,” Helen finally said. Tony looked up and watched the nurses scurry out, glancing back over their shoulders at them.

“What’s up, Doc?” he tried to joke, but his voice was quieter than it should have been. He cleared his throat.

Helen sighed, looking at the holographic screen in front of her.

“It looks like it isn’t just one type of poison,” she said, her voice clear and blunt. She was nothing if not professional. “Are you familiar with Project Centipede?”

“Knock-off Extremis. Highly unstable.” Tony’s stomach clenched as he said it, glancing back at Peter. Hadn’t the kid said his blood felt like it was on fire?

Helen nodded. “Not to mention it’s radioactive.”

“Well, so is Peter.”

Helen’s mouth quirked up just a bit at the corners before she schooled herself. “Which might help. But it might hurt. I’ll have to do some tests.”

Tony took a steeling breath. “What else?”

“It looks like some kind of manufactured pathogen. Combined with the Extremis, his temperature is already rising steadily. We can probably expect some bouts of vomiting, difficulty breathing, and possibly hallucinations.”

“Ok.” He felt dizzy.

“But that’s not what’s—” Helen cut herself off, but the words hung in the air. That’s not what’s killing him.

She glanced at Tony again, then continued. “It looks like there’s also a very high concentration of, well, scorpion venom. A mix of many different poisonous species. That’s what caused the seizure.”

“How do we treat it?” Tony asked, his voice hoarse.

“Well, you already discovered how to neutralize Extremis. We’ll pull up your notes and get Bruce working on that factor. I can isolate the pathogen isotopes and create an antiserum from that. We’ll just have hope that the two cures won’t interact badly.”

“And the venom?”

Helen rubbed her forehead like she had a headache. “When you get bitten by a snake, you’re supposed to take the snake with you to the hospital.”

Tony blinked. “You want me to get the snake.”

“I need that venom if I’m going to fix this,” Helen said seriously. Tony nodded and stood, then paused.

“How long?”

Helen sighed, looking at Peter for a long moment before meeting Tony’s eye. “Tony. It’s a miracle he’s still alive. I’d say a few hours at most, but... he could go any time. There’s no way of knowing.”

Tony couldn’t breathe. He sank back into the chair behind him, dropping his head into his hands.

“Tony,” Helen said. He waved her off. He had to get it together, he had to go, now, and get the venom for the kid. He couldn’t waste time freaking out.

Tony’s voice was a little breathless when he spoke “FRI, tell Rhodes to suit up.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Tony stood, blinking stars out of his vision. His heart was beating fast, but he ignored it.

Cho stood with him, looking concerned.

“I don’t think you should be the one—”

“I have to,” he said, brushing past her. “I can’t just... I can’t just sit here and do nothing. FRI, tell him we’ll debrief in the common room. Pull up everything you have on Scorpion.”

“Tony, do you really want to spend Peter’s last hours on a mission? That anyone else could go on? You should be with him.”

Tony stopped at the doorway, holding onto the jamb to keep from swaying as her words hit him.

“He’ll be fine. I’ll be right back.”

The debrief was all of two minutes. By the time it was done, Rhodey was suited up and waiting, Tony’s own suit standing at attention next to him. But he hesitated.

“Give me just a second, alright?” he breathed.

Rhodey’s eyes were knowing as he nodded. Tony turned back toward the medical wing, suddenly very aware of his heartbeat.

Peter’s room was devoid of nurses for the moment. The kid was still asleep, the IV dripping steadily as it kept him on a constant stream of painkillers.

Tony approached the bed but stopped by Peter’s feet.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t say goodbye. It was unbearable.

But he had to decide, before he wasted any more time, which would be harder to live with: Accepting the very real possibility that Peter might die while he was gone and saying goodbye to him? Or living in a fantasy, denying the truth that Peter was balanced precariously between life and death, only to come back with the cure to find him already gone?

Tony shook the thoughts away. Peter wouldn’t die. Tony would make sure of it, because he couldn’t live if Peter didn’t.

“Alright, kiddo,” Tony said, his voice too loud in the silent medbay. “I’ll be back before you know it, ok? And we’ll get you all fixed up.”

Tony reached out and patted Peter’s foot. He cleared his throat, looking down at his hand where it covered Peter’s ankle. When he spoke again, there was less bravado in his voice.

“I know you’re a fighter, kid, so you fight for me, alright? And I’ll go out there and fight for you. And you’ll be right as rain in no time.”

He stood in silence for another few seconds before turning around. He took a step, then clenched his jaw and pivoted back, crossing those few extra feet to the head of the bed.

He bent and pressed a firm kiss to Peter’s forehead, cupping Peter’s cheek with one hand. He squeezed his eyes closed for a second and refused to think that this was the last kiss he was ever going to give the kid.

Then he straightened, sniffed lightly, and walked out the door.

“Don’t tell me that brat’s still alive,” Mac Gargan called casually as he watched Iron Man and War Machine land heavily in front of him.

Tony’s blood boiled, but the faceplate hid the way he winced.

He had debated on keeping Peter’s vitals on his HUD, but knew it would only distract him. FRIDAY was on strict instructions to alert him the second anything changed, but Tony still couldn’t help but feel the distance between them right now.

“He’s stronger than I gave him credit for,” Scorpion continued, his gear closing around him, clunky and slow. It was vastly inferior technology to the Iron Man suit, but Tony eyed the glowing orange fluid powering it with distaste. Project Centipede again.

“Yeah, he hears that a lot,” Tony said flippantly, circling around Gargan enough that he couldn’t see both him and Rhodey at once. “I think it’s the high voice.”

Gargan smiled at him in a way that sent shiver’s up his spine on Peter’s behalf. He couldn’t believe the kid faced down this psychopath on a regular basis.

The thought sobered him. He was paying the price now, sedated and in pain and dying in the medbay.

“That little insect deserved everything he got, Stark. He had it coming”

Tony grit his teeth, his vision tinged with red as he looked at the man that might have killed Peter.

“That’s nice. Now do you mind holding still while I murder you?”

Rhodey jumped into action the same second the mechanical tail whipped toward Tony.

Peter was right. Scorpion was fast. And strong, stronger than Tony had expected. He maneuvered his mechanical stinger like it was a fifth limb, wrapping it around Tony’s ankle and slamming him into a support strut while Rhodey attacked, pulling his fist back and crashing it into Gargan’s face with the reinforced strength of the suit.

Tony blasted the artificial limb away, powering up his thrusters to hover several feet above the ground.

Before Gargan could recover his balance, Tony rocketed forward and rammed him in the stomach throwing him into a wall. Tony raised his repulsor to Gargan’s face, the whine of it powering up barely louder than Tony’s snarl.

His HUD flashed red.

“Boss, he’s having another seizure.”

All the breath whooshed out of Tony’s lungs. His heart skipped a beat. The only thing he could see was Peter’s vitals going haywire in the corner of the screen, his heart struggling to beat.

Scorpion’s tail wrapped around Tony’s waist and threw him into a pillar.

Rhodey retaliated while Tony got his bearings, and by the time his vision had stopped spinning, he was spitting mad.

This man was killing his kid. It was his fault, his poison coursing through Peter’s veins, contracting his muscles and causing him pain.

“Enough of this,” Tony growled. He activated his laser. If Gargan lost a limb in the process, all the better.

The laser cut clean through the base of the stinger. Gargan screamed as he fell, like Tony actually had sliced off a limb.

Rhodey rushed forward, his shoulder canon trained on the man as he fell to the cracked pavement. Tony hurried to the tail, taking the barb in both hands and tearing it in two. In the center rested a canister of what had to be the poison, glowing faint orange.

Tony trusted Rhodey enough to take care of Gargan without him.

“FRIDAY,” Tony snapped, taking to the air, the cannister cradled carefully in his hands. “I’m coming. Tell Peter I’m coming.”

To be continued...

@irondad-fic-exchange @iron--spider

#irondad fic exchange #Irondad and Spiderson #Tony Stark #Peter Parker #MCU #brotp: speaking of loyalty #my writing #fic #I'm sorry it's two parts but I figured it would be better to have two good parts #than one mediocre part

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retro-memo · 2 years

Note

oho ask and you shall receive

questions about your fanfic "Hold You Close" (one of my faveeessss)

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

2: What scene did you first put down?

11: What do you like best about this fic?

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

<3 what a cute idea! and I'm very curious for your answers ^_^

Ah thank you so much for the ask!

Well, I was actually having trouble coming up for an idea in the first place ngl when it came to this because it was part of the exchange. I was back and forth with some ideas, at one point, I was gonna write a multi-chapter Hydra Tony fic instead.

I eventually settled with Hold You Close because I always love the 'distance to protect' but I rarely see any with Peter. It also just happened to fit two of the prompts I was given so it was perfect (and it wasn't a multi-chapter cause I suck at updating multi-chapters lol)

I mostly wrote it in order, but I sometimes jumped ahead to the end then back to the middle part

The part I liked best was probably the hugs cause, well, they're hugs

I don't really write messages in my fics, or not that I know of. I'm just here to write irondad lol

#thanks for the ask!#ask game #Glad to hear you liked that fic!#It's probably still one of my favorites to this day that I managed to write

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spideypoolficexchange · 1 year

Text

Rules, FAQ and Timeline

It has come to my attention that the rules page is not mobile friendly, sorry about that! I'm putting it all here and will pin this post to the page for easy access for the future. ♥️

Basic Rules:

Fics must be a minimum of 1,000 words.

Fics must be Spideypool-centric.

Please follow the spirit of the event and the requests as much as to the letter. If it's only technically or incidentally Spideypool, or if it's not technically what the listed squick was, please request/write something else.

That's about it! No event-given limits beyond that, go nuts!

Timeline:

Sign-ups open: Sunday, November 13

Sign-ups close: Saturday, November 19 at 6pm Eastern Time

Prompts go out: Saturday, November 26 (or earlier, if the matches are done before then!)

Deadline to post: Monday, January 2, 2023 at 11:59pm EST

Rules and FAQ (extended):

What is this event?

How do I sign up?

Fill out this Google Form (closed until November 13). You’ll receive an email with your responses and voila, you’re all done!

Please do not request NSFW content if you are under 18. On the other side, if you’re told your giftee is under 18, please keep the fic SFW.

Do try to keep the prompts open! Remember, this is a gift, not a commission. You will not have precise control over what is made, and that’s part of the spirit of the exchange!

How long does my fic need to be?

1,000 words. There is no word limit, but if your giftee has stated they are not okay with receiving a WIP, please do keep in mind your time limit and adjust your length accordingly.

Do my prompts have to be holiday-themed?

Nope! Prompts can be for any holiday or completely unrelated to one.

Is [blank] allowed?

There are three prompts. How many do I need to write?

Only one! If you have the time and energy to fill more, then go right ahead! Though I suggest finishing one before starting on another, so you don’t risk leaving your giftee with nothing.

#rules #faq #timeline #spideypool fic exchange #spideypool #spideypool fanfic #peter parker x wade wilson #wade wilson x peter parker

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yes-i-am-happyaspie · 3 years

Text

The Subjectiveness of Protectiveness - happyaspie

A gift for @inferno-ontherocks for the @irondad-fic-exchange

Rated: Teen No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 4227

Summary: When Peter is injured outside of his suit by a woman who has a grudge against Iron Man and has come to the conclusion that he's Tony Stark's son, he decides that his best course of action is to not tell anyone. He doesn't want May to worry but more than anything he doesn't want his mentor to feel guilty about it. Especially when the threat has already been taken care of and he has a healing factor. However, when things don't go as planned he ends up finding himself in a situation that leaves him with no choice but to reveal what he's been hiding.

Tony is not impressed.

Chapter 1/2

Part 13 of the Spider-man Stories: Not Otherwise Specified series

***excerpt below the cut ***

"See you next week, Mr. Stark," Peter called over his shoulder as he darted out of the lab, Saturday evening. He'd been there since school had let out on Friday and as much as he enjoyed the extended amounts of time he'd started spending with his mentor, he was eager to squeeze in some patrolling before curfew. The plan had been to walk two blocks over, making it possible for him to slip into a darkened alley and change into the Spider-suit but he didn't even make it one before his senses started warning him of impending danger.

The problem was that he was still wearing his street clothes, meaning that simply jumping into action as he wanted to, wasn't advisable. Instead, he was left to casually assess the situation, hopefully without letting on that he was enhanced. He peered up towards the sky and cut his eyes around the area before nonchalantly brushing some invisible dust off of his shoulder so that he was able to look behind him. It took him a moment to locate the source of his spider-induced anxiety but as soon as he'd laid eyes on a woman that was lingering in the shadows he knew he'd found it.

Peter's entire body was insisting that defending himself was crucial, as the unidentified person approached him. His web-shooters felt heavy against his wrist and he was itching to press the trigger. Except he didn't, because by doing so he would be giving away his secret identity and that wasn't an option. He needed to be patient, to wait and see if she was going to make a move.

"Hello, young man," the woman said sweetly. "I was wondering if you would be willing to help me out. I'm new around here and I seem to have gotten myself turned around. Do you know where the closest subway station is?"

The closer she got the more his senses screamed but Peter stood firm. "Oh, um, sure. It's about three blocks that way," he replied, gesturing to the right of the upcoming intersection. He noticed that she seemed to be hesitating and was considering adding a few landmarks to his directions but she spoke first.

"Actually, would you mind walking with me?" she asked with pleading eyes and a closed-off posture that made Peter feel a little bit bad for her despite his own unease. "It's getting dark and I really don't want to be by myself out here."

After taking a few seconds to weigh his options, Peter nodded his head. The subway station she was heading towards would be a heavily populated area and he figured that by walking her there himself, that would give him the opportunity to sneak off and change into his suit. Then, if by chance, she decided to cause any kind of chaos, he would be ready for it. "I guess I can do that. I was on my way there anyway," he easily lied and she responded by snaking her arm through his.

The moment the woman's hand touched him, Peter's senses flared, screaming that there was an immediate danger but, again he didn't react for fear of outing his vigilante alter-ego. Then the next thing he knew, he was being flipped onto his back in one swift motion. He could have jumped up, he could have pinned her to a wall, he could have utilized his webs but instead, he allowed himself to dragged into the narrow space between two nearby buildings.

By the time he'd been pulled out of sight from any passers-by, he was already considering how he could pull out of the woman's hold without causing any suspicion. His mind quickly went back to all the times that he and Tony had trained together. The man had taught him more than a few moves that would serve the purpose and he estimated that if he cut his strength by a little more than half, it would be possible for him to get away without giving the lady anything to over-analyze.

After all, there were a lot of kids his age who took karate and self-defense classes. It wouldn't be terribly farfetched for him to have done similarly. So, with a deep breath, he twisted his body in a way that would loosen her grip on his wrist but she seemed to have anticipated the action and was quick to adjust her hold.

"It figures that Stark would teach you how to do something like that," the aggressor growled into his ear, causing little red flags to go up in Peter's head, because while she seemed to be oblivious to the fact that he was Spider-man, she also seemed to be well aware of his connection to Tony and Stark Industries, thus changing his plan. He needed to know what she was after.

[Continue Reading on AO3]

@letscatchyoulater This is the fic you asked me to tag you on. :)

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dise7se · 3 years

Text

gone, gone (thank you)

by @spideysforce (8.1k) for @tonystarkdadmode ( @irondad-fic-exchange )

Characters: Peter Parker, May Parker, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds, Flash Thompson, Betty Brant, Quentin Beck, Tony Stark, Matt Murdock, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Karen Page

Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Quentin Beck & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Summary:

Peter has paranoia looming behind him, always watching him, never lingering too close but never leaving him alone. In each dark corner of any alleyway he’s in, paranoia follows him. The green gases and mists seeping out of his city’s storm drains, twirling mystically around his feet, those are all Mysterio. His anxiety-addled brain has convinced him each warp of sulfur dioxide twirling through the air, green subway lights illuminating each particle is Quentin Beck, taunting him in his home."I've got a show waiting for you in Manhattan."

— prompts: presumed dead, hypothermia, and hurt/comfort

read on ao3 (leave comments and kudos)

“There is no way Parker is Spider-Man!” Flash said, voice distant down the hall of the snow-lodge cabin, game pieces clacking against the board.

“And why can’t he be?” Betty asks, voice muffled over a piece of licorice.

“We’ve already been over this,” Ned sighs, the room quieting except for the crackle of the fireplace in front of them where they gathered on the living room floor surrounding the coffee table.

“Bullshit.”

“The dickwad is right here, you know,” MJ says, setting her mouth straight to hide her laugh. She fails. “Ned, let’s hear him out. Can Flash really connect Peter Parker to Spider-Man? JJJ couldn’t.”

They can, not that the Daily Bugle should have aired out his business for all of his home city to prey on, for Mysterio to get into his head, and target every last of his loved ones. It had only been a few months since the older man had faked his death on television, had the Daily Bugle ruin his reputation more than they’ve already tried, and Tony Stark worked tirelessly with Pepper Potts to backtrack on this PR nightmare that carefully painted a brushstroke target on each of his loved ones.

These last few months, his previous mentor has been out of commission, along with other Avengers. He can’t complain, though, he has a feeling he’s making new allies in his home-burough while being a vigilante. Possibly a new mentor, but that’s him projecting. There is no Mysterio if he buries himself in school and work, if he’s exerting himself.

He walks over and joins the rest of them in the living room of the cabin from the hallway where he set down his suitcase and organized it before aunt May came back.

“You hear back from MIT?” MJ asks, scooting closer to him once he sits down on the floor beside her and the coffee table.

“Not yet,” he says, all the attention shifting to him. “I think we’ll all hear back by next week.”

“Well, we may have applied, but it doesn’t mean all of us will get in..” Flash announces, earning an elbow to the ribs by an exasperated Betty.

This is their new dynamic now, really, maybe it was their subconscious way of coping with their previous summer vacation, they began gravitating towards each other.

Peter watched the confusion flicker across Flash’s face, mumbling an apology and a sarcastic, “it’s true..”

He’s been doing that more often, and even though he’s made it clear that he hates it when Peter looks at him with that, ‘psychoanalytical’ face, he’s trying to figure him out. Flash is an electrical current, a neon light buzzing, flickering and it seems like there’s a fuse ready to burst into flecks at any time. He doesn’t mind when Flash is annoyed with him, he knows sophomore and junior year bailing on Academic Decathlon was his fault, but there’s a weight off his shoulders since his identity was revealed to the entire world, he’s in a legal case with a local Queens lawyer to soften the blow currently, and he can handle these little outbursts.

If Flash goes around the school revealing his identity, well, he doesn’t have much leverage.

He puts everything he has into tormenting Peter, but that’s how he is. That’s how their classmates see him, he likes being the center of attention.

The second time he noticed it happen, it was after their Europe trip. He was hugging May, holding her close, Betty, Ned and MJ scattered, and he caught sight of Flash. May turned their 1940s Revolvo on and they sat with the cold air blowing on their faces, May’s face flickering between him and Flash and his butler.

He never dared to bring it up. Ned and MJ never allowed him to, no matter how subtly he planned to. It wasn’t fair of his family, it wasn’t fair for him to go through alone. He never fooled Petter with his facade, but the sinking feeling in his stomach felt worse. He couldn’t ignore it any longer, no matter how many obligations he has to worry about.

Ben taught him when any situation arises for him to be the bigger person, he needs to be the bigger person and assume responsibility. He knew he needed to help find Flash a safe space if he couldn’t by himself. Or, fuck, even just support him whenever he needed to.

In his own fucked up way, Flash had his back as well.

He shoved a skateboard into his arms one afternoon after leaving a Decathlon meeting, murmuring he needed a skating partner today. To not take it personally, they wouldn’t hold hands or anything, but to make fun of someone else if they fall off the board or eat shit.

He had a feeling, and he thinks he’s right. That morning, Peter came in late, nearly dragged in by May because of a late night run-in with Silver Stable. With the scrapes and bruises from being dragged through Manhattan, he might as well have been dragged by a skateboard and not his web shooters.

So, they skateboarded.

And he did eat shit.

Ned, MJ, and Flash scold Betty for accidentally shoving the Monopoly board too far to the left, Ned yelling at Flash to stop cheating and taking his money. May comes in at the perfect time, yelling over the teenagers that she bought everyone’s sandwiches from the sub shop.

“May, you bring my camera in?” Peter asks through a full mouth of lettuce, bread, tomato, cheddar, and deli-meats, earning a light playful smack upside the head.

He doesn’t miss Flash’s furrowing brows, his body immediately freezing from across the kitchen island. She mutters, “Yes, Peter, next time I’ll make you walk a quarter mile in the snow for it.”

He snorts, earning a small, ‘smeck,’ on the forehead and watches May pass out the rest of his friends’ food and chips and drinks. He forgot what this was like, back in Europe with Ned when they felt independent on their own and like they could take on the world from a small, cramped space with all their friends.

“Hey, Peter, did you get an email back from that lawyer?” Ned asks, chewing loudly from his chips and turning back to him. His other half, the other part of his brain, oh, where would he be without Ned? “Remember, you said you’d get one.”

“Mm!” Peter exclaims with a full mouth, taking his phone out from his jean pocket. He doesn’t give the group any details, ever, just the public information the brand new firm allows to go to the press. They’ve strategic in their methods, and May was the most doubtful at first, but the two lawyers and impressive secretary were not as amateur as their clientele suggested.

He turns his phone screen to let May watch his email app load, slurping loudly on his drink while May sighs. “You know, I won’t miss that when you go off to school next year. I think you do it on purpose.”

“Hm, a schemer never tells.”

An email with the subject Please read by tonight, 12/11 which makes his stomach lurch. May hesitates, grabbing onto his hand holding the phone and her hand shakes slightly before she presses on the lock button. This could mean anything. His paranoia, the slight buzz constantly whirring behind him at all times from his senses could be triggered by anything and everything, could be confirmed by this email.

May squeezes his shoulder, ready to talk to the rest of the group once she notices his jaw lock-up in anxiety. “We did get an email. Come on, after you guys eat, we’ll do ice skating as promised.”

MJ continues with their conversation about MIT earlier, which leads to an argument over whether or not there truly is a class on street fighting mechanics, or do they call it that to glorify physics.

He knew forgetting about the email until he could be alone to read it with me would not help him at all. He excuses himself, picking his phone up and ignores the worrying glances from his friends.

Before he can think to text Tony, his caller ID flashes across the screen. “Hello?”

“ Hey, Peter ,” he begins, “I only have a few minutes to talk, Morgan’s taking a bath and is currently making bubble potions that may or may not be spilling over the bathtub. Wanted to check in on you..”

“Don’t let Morgan flood the bathroom again, Tony,” he says lightheartedly, knowing why he’s calling. “Listen, were you cc’ed into the lawyer’s email? I haven’t read it yet and—”

“Whoa, slow down kid,” he says, and Peter walks up the wooden stairs of the lodge, watching the living room between the wooden panels. He really needs to give Tony shit for inviting them to a cabin the size of his apartment complex floor. “ That actually is why I’m calling. They said Nelson has reason to believe Mr. Beck may be conspiring inside of the prison, but he can’t know for sure. This is not a reason to become anxious, okay?”

“What do you mean he’s conspiring?! ” Peter yelps, yanking the nearest door open in the long hallway and closing himself in with an unnecessary slam. “What reason does this lawyer have?”

He thinks his friends can hear him from downstairs, he knows May can.

“ Calm down ,” he chastises over the phone, his voice rough and quiet. Peter curses himself for making the man drop his own familial responsibilities for him, but his guilt complex the size of Manhattan won’t let him go through this by himself. Like he needs to. “ Don’t get worked up. I wanted to call and let you know I have someone looking into this even further, along with Murdock and Nelson. It’s probably just a threat out of boredom, probably got a smack on the wrist for staying out past curfew and he wants to take it out on everyone. ”

Peter sighs, sinking down onto the ceramic tile floor of the bathroom. It’s large, has fluffy white towels on a rack to his left, a large walk-in shower, and is bare of bath-mats but signs point to supplies under the sink. This is good, he thinks, he can ground himself.

The tile is cool on his hand, it’s freezing him through his jeans, one of the laces on his snow boots came undone, and he can hear Morgan screeching in the background over her magical bath potions that she’s going to make a mermaid out of.

“ You still with me? ” Tony’s voice comes through the other end of the phone, and he swears he can hear more crackling than usual. It might just be the snow drifting outside messing with the nearby towers and powerlines.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m right here.” His voice comes out even smaller than intended.

“Can I call you back? I need to call May now, and— Morgan, you can’t use scissors on the bubbles! ”

A sense of familiarity washes over Peter, and he succumbs to the feeling of safeness associated with Tony and Morgan. He’d been too close to death already. He was dead. And after navigating life without Tony for a while, he piled each responsibility like building blocks, a delicate glass structure he could shatter at any given moment, and Mysterio took a hammer to the glass. Thanos buried his glass structure, leaving part of him under with it.

“Yeah, Tony. Talk to you later. Miss you, too.”

The rest of the night goes on, and May prepares them all hot chocolate before she heads off upstairs to take a hot shower. The uneasiness never settled inside of him, a nemesis unwilling to leave him alone.

His heart thrums wildly in his chest, his hands shake and feel numb, and he wonders why .

Is it his body’s reaction to having to spend a few nights away from the city during their holiday trip, unable to patrol? Is it lingering stress from senior year, that he and May haven’t properly celebrated all of Hanukkah yet?

He must be incapable of relaxing, turning back to the couch where he’s curled up with 4 of his friends watching Home Alone 2.

“Hey, is anyone else’s toes feeling numb?” he turns to the group, watching them blearily blink at the TV from exhaustion.

“Your toes are numb ?” Flash asks from beside him on the floor, leaning against the couch with his head tilted to the side. He has no idea how that could be comfortable at all.

“Yeah, numb.”

He needed to keep talking to someone, hearing his friends talk, too. It might just be anxiety, or his PTSD symptoms bothering him. After Europe, the school forced everyone on the trip to attend at least one counseling session, and Murdock and Nelson had suggested the same when they took on the case early-autumn.

He wanted to take the advice, especially since it meant so much to May.

The cabin’s living room TV is quietly playing a documentary about the dangers of climate change and the remarkable effects the current generation will face when Peter’s jolted awake, his heart thudding in his chest and his alertness draws him from his sleep. He must’ve fallen asleep when he was in between MJ and Betty a couple of hours ago, he’s covered in a blanket and feels a pillow that wasn’t there before, supporting his neck- May’s doing- and it’s now when he realizes MJ isn’t beside him anymore, there’s too big of a gap on the couch.

He stills, not wanting to call out her name if she’s just using the bathroom or went back to her guestroom. Peter reaches his head over to check the time on the TV clock, and it’s nearing 2:30AM. The anxious feeling of danger looming in the distance, of now being watched returns and he needs to run some sort of perimeter check, maybe they have security--

“Peter!” he hears a distant shout from outside, a girl’s shout— and he immediately blanches. MJ .

His heart rate picks up, and he kicks the blanket off of him and stands. The snow is falling heavily outside, still, never seeming to let up and blocks out the nearby street lamps and backyard lamps. “MJ?!”

He turns to check if his whispering disturbed the others yet, but he decides he’ll go investigate first. He’s Spider-Man, he can head outside to check for her.

He turns to grab his oversized winter coat and his snow boots when he notices the backyard sliding door’s open— where he must’ve heard the scream from.

“Guys!” Peter shouts into the quiet living room, interrupting the warm peace from the TV playing and whatever phase of their sleep cycle there in. “Wake up! I think MJ”s outside!”

Peter runs out into the cold, a gust of wind hitting him immediately and causes his whole body to shiver while he shrugs his coat on for 25 centimeters of snow. It reaches his mid-calves and it seeps into his pants, each frozen entity stinging him and dragging him down into the ground while he runs— he doesn’t know where he’s running to, but his throat goes raw from screaming for MJ.

Frustrated none of his friends woke up in the wake of his own panic, his senses are screaming at him, danger, danger, danger , he’s too cold, his heart feels frozen. The low hum of his senses dial all the way to his limit. He screams and falls into a pile of snow on the ground, hiding himself from the danger that doesn’t seem to be there. Yet.

“MJ, where are you?” he screams, his mouth betraying him with the sound of wrecked sobs, desperacy ready to escape him, his eyes are wide and terrified. He gets back up, swaying on his own feet and he’s inhaling too many snowflakes, they’re everywhere.

He needs to find MJ, right now. She could be out here completely alone, but his senses won’t tell him where --

Before he can reach her piercing scream, the lamp post next to him flickers on, illuminated in green. His heart stops, and he feels the bile rising up inside of him.

No, no, no, no— not him, he’s supposed to be dead- wait, no, he’s supposed to be in prison—

Peter watches in pure anguish as the snow picks up, dangerous icicles falling from the lamp post and sky pierce his skin and he steps forward behind the shadows of the moonlight and snow, towering over him in his old suit he thought was destroyed. Was evidence, locked away to never be touched again.

Except it flickers away, into a cloud of smoke.

Maybe he’s hallucinating because he’s sick? He’s tired?

He has only gotten eight hours of sleep in the last three days, but what drove him so mad he came out here to the snow , the blizzard that seems to never let up-- the one that Mr. Stark mentioned-- is sending a small snowstorm to the boroughs of New York. Must be due to Global Warming.

The hum of a drone is loud, careening and he ducks his head before it strikes him, it nearly catches him and his breath won’t come out past the burning and aching in his throat.

Honestly, Peter assumed he’d be dead by now, no one telling him a word to protect him. Or, would it protect him even further to tell the truth that he is hidden away, rotting in a cell, truly plotting against him like Foggy Nelson said not to worry too much about.

“If you wanna save your city, you’re gonna need to come with me,” the familiar voice announces into the middle of the night, pushing him past his threshold of sanity and sends a wracking shiver down his spine and arms.

“I’m not really here, no, where would the fun in that be?” he replies smugly, probably watching from around the corner while Peter frantically runs back to the snow cabin to secure his family. “I need you to find me.”

He can only think about MJ, if this is an illusion she must be safe. What if he’s truly lying, crawling out of a grave somewhere in Manhattan where he was buried. Forgotten about. Rotting. For the last few months, he’s been here. Around every corner, lingering, falling behind every alleyway light to stay hidden. Quentin Beck has been the one watching him, it probably isn’t paranoid tendencies.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, get back inside NOW!” May shouts from behind him, his neck twisting to catch sight of her. His hands shake while he fishes somewhere in his pockets for his phone, hoping it didn’t get buried in the snow where he fell.

He feels heavy, like there’s two tons weighing over him and pulling him down into the ground even further, the slush eating away at his boots.

“May! Get away!” Peter shouts, his voice too raspy to be understood. “Find MJ inside!”

“Aw, Peter. Don’t worry about them, they’ll be safe right here, in the warm cabin under their warm blankets. Let’s hope the fireplace doesn’t catch anything around it, though,” Beck chuckles. “I think that’d be even enough for you getting me killed.”

“Killed? ” he exasperatedly asks, navigating his way back to the cabin and freezing in the dark. “You’re still alive. All of those people you killed in Europe are not .”

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,” Beck says sharply, appearing right behind him. He can see him better this time, his hair is slightly grown out but gelled to the side. He’s wearing a black coat over this old shitty suit, completely concealed by his jacket. He clings to his helmet at his right side, Peter watches the inside fill up with snow.

Every miniscule detail, he can’t believe it. He can’t be here in front of him.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this. You know, I couldn’t wait any longer. You don’t deserve the title of Spider-Man, your big family. It was a big mistake letting them continue to believe Peter Parker is Spider-Man.”

“Because I will protect them. You can’t underestimate me, I got away from you last time. And now?” Peter steps towards Beck, going farther away from the snow cabin. “You can take me. Don’t you dare touch them.”

“Oh, I won’t,” Beck’s voice is layered in eagerness, like a child. “I’ll show you what I want and what I’m doing.

“And if you don’t? Millions are going to pay for what you did. You know, that Jester King, Tony Stark, he really played me when he played dead for months. He did. He takes my holographic system, I take it back from him through you. You try to get me murdered, now I take away what you love most.

“What I want?” he says, finger tapping on his chin in amusement. “That’s bringing you down along with everyone you love. Excuse me, I mean, after I bring down everyone you love.”

Beck signals a drone over to him, smiling pointedly and gleefully as he waves a projection over, projecting New York City in a small screen in between them. There’s barely any snow covering the city like the forecasts predicted, and he swallows hard for what’s about to happen.

If he was capable of all the infrastructure damage to Europe, each disaster caused by G-ddamn drones, he’s capable of bringing down a few boroughs in New York City.

He stares at Beck, refusing to look down at the projection in front of him. At this point, his clothes clings to him and if he isn’t hypothermic, he thinks he will be soon. This isn’t part of his illusion tech, no. This time it’s real.

“Come on, Pete!” Beck yells cheerfully, nudging his shoulder roughly to turn back to the drone. “Where’s the fun in it if you don’t get to see what’s gonna happen, huh?”

He calculates his options, watching from his peripheral the snow attack the city. Shouts are emitted from the drone. “At least it’s not like Europe! I have no problem using more of my illusion tech here, but I’ve got a show waiting for you in Manhattan.”

Peter stares hard at the screen, anger and malice replacing every other feeling he’s felt up to now. He thinks back to his illusions and what he knows , he’s been sitting on top of every secret about him, hoarding them, using them to manipulate them before and knowing his secrets work against him.

“Here, I’ll take you there through one of my drones. So you’ll know what it’ll feel like to be on 85th when I destroy it.”

Peter’s hidden in plain view under a fire escape, it’s 2AM in the city, but he can hear all the people that are outside. Dogs being walked late at night, late-night epiphanies happening on fire escapes in the light snow, taxi-drivers in the middle of their shifts, the nearby hospital emergency room full of trauma cases from car accidents from the slippery snow. It’s the quietest he’s heard in New York, and he’s looking around and making sure nobody’s lurking around any corners. He needs to give Beck what he wants, and get out of here to get to the real New York.

“Beck, NO!” he hears Ned scream from above him, and he runs from under the coverage of the fire escape and into the middle of the grimey alleyway to see Ned tethering on the edge of the 30 meter building. “You can’t do this, it’s not fair!”

Beck appears behind Ned, and he panics in search of his web shooter attachments and comes up short. He’s still in his soaked clothes from the snow cabin. “Peter! You’ve gotta help m—”

Peter screams Ned’s name, crawling up the building as far as he can before he can leap out to catch Ned. He misses, and Ned collapses to the ground.

An illusion, this isn’t real, none of this is real. It’s not real. Not real.

He gasps and tumbles onto the ground, landing back at the snow cabin.

“Let’s play another one, you haven’t seen the best part!”

He’s standing on a highrise building, in his Spider-Man suit, and he knows it’s still an illusion. The snow is falling even heavier than it did at the snow cabin, but it’s covering pedestrians walking around late at night or very early in the morning. Random people still out eating, teenagers skipping curfew, people leaving their office jobs far too late deemed acceptable

The snow covers the cars , and he can hear emergency coverage playing on radios and TV’s while the city falls into a panic over Beck’s illusions. The snow is it’s true amount, but he’s redirecting it everywhere through the stupid drones. He’s playing an illusion on his city.

He hears a child scream out for Spider-Man’s help, his daddy’s stuck under a car and he won’t stop bleeding. He’s trapped on this high-rise beam, paralyzed by something. Why can’t he just leap down, shoot his webs, he can see all the coverage he has to get to. Now.

He gasps when he feels two hands on his back, shoving him forward in anger. He sees Flash, balancing with him on this yellow beam full of venom as he says, “This is all your fucking fault!’

He listens, watching with his jaw dropped because he’s too stupid to do anything else. He doesn’t have anywhere to run, he brings his hands to his ears and shuts his eyes tight, he’s guessing what Beck’s putting illusion-Flash up to. This seems too simple, but he doesn’t want to play his chances. He wishes his city could see him right now, he’s their beacon, they aren’t collectively helpless.

“I’m done, Beck!” Peter shouts over the whistling wind and heavy snow. “I’m not running. You don’t have to do this.”

Darkness falls around him, it covers him and the snow, and Beck’s gone. His body’s equilibrium is off from being out in this avalanche, the snow now nearly up to his waist is pure agonizing wetness. There’s no more Manhattan skylines, or a cityscape at all, no more traumatized Flash, only the cabin with the porch light on.

Peter turns on his heels, running through the thick snow, holding onto himself, and starts racing in the snow. He keeps his eyes wide open despite the snow seeping into his eyes, he’s gone, the paranoia died down, the feeling of being watched simmered away like a light burning out. His legs feel like two tons of steel are weighing them down, and launches himself inside the door to find May, Ned, Flash, and to see if MJ is here.

He can almost sense where things are, he scoops a pile of snow off of his face and litters it to the ground, shrugging his jacket off which might be his worst decision of the night, his eyes feel blindfolded by the sleet.

“May!” Peter yells, holding back a sob sitting in the back of his throat, his voice quivering. “P-please. Please tell me you’re okay.”

He picks his lead feet up, waiting for an answer. He can sense bodies nearby, so they're here in the perimeter, but his senses have gone haywire after his encounter with the drone and Beck. Whatever frequency and illusions he uses, he feels less keyed now and less like he’s going to wake up from this nightmare.

He feels real.

“Baby?” he hears May whisper at the top of the stairs, now noticing the upstairs light flickered on and illuminating the living room and the stairs. He’s sisyphus climbing the stairs, his own body betraying him, and this is his punishment. Too weak to move right now, too weak to go hug May. To go tell his friends everything’s gonna be okay.

“It- it was him, May. I saw him,” Peter whispers, elation and adrenaline still coursing through his body. “He’s alive, I mean you already knew that but-- May, he was here. I have to go.”

“Peter,” May says carefully, lifting her arm that was protectively holding Ned back. He’s crying in a steady stream watching them at the top of the stairs from the bottom, he’s his own impossible boulder. He can’t reach them. He can’t get to the top.

She’s careful in her tone. “Why did you go outside? What did you see?”

“May, you have to believe me. I need to go to Manhattan— I have to send Mr. Stark a message and you-- you guys need protection,” he rambles breathlessly, half of his words ununciated, “I can’t let you guys die.”

“Okay, Peter,” May confirms, and he’s never seen her look so sad. She’s covered in moonlight, she’s backlit by the upstairs light, but he can’t see her eyes clearly like he usually can. And, oh fuck, he thought this was real— “Name five things you can see right now. Just five.”

“I— May, no, I need your car keys. I need my suit,” he says, watching his friends faces fall and hears their heartbeats pick up. “And MJ, she’s okay? She was screaming, and--”

May sighs, resigning, and takes a few steps down the stairs to meet his eyes. “Baby, are you having an episode?”

“May, no!—“

“I can help. We can all help. Nobody’s judging you, I know you didn’t find the best coping mechanisms, but—“

“Call Tony. Please. For me.”

“Okay,” May says, running a hand through his soaked curls and he feels her shaking movements, and he gently catches her hand.

“I’m so sorry, I brought this here.” He glances up at his friends, watching their own storms on their own faces, the aching, the fear caused by him. Ned’s quietly crying now, keeping his face as stoic as he can.

“Go, Peter. I’ll set security up around the perimeter,” Ned whispers bravely, swallowing back tears. “Just.. Can you tell us what you saw outside?”

Peter’s mind instantly flashes back to Ned’s body on the pavement in the illusion, and swallows the bile back down but allows more tears to fall. “I— He made an illusion about MJ. About all of you. Everyone was inside except for her. He’s in New York. Just like Foggy said.”

He turns outside to face outside, and it’s nearly morning now. The sun hides far on the low horizon, not daring to rise yet but is still covered by snowfall.

May finally relented, grabbing her cellphone to get in touch with Mr. Stark and Nelson and Murdock. It was Claire who answered first, insisting she talk to Peter. Her worries over the phone brought a wave of nausea over him, she described New York right now. There’s hail and snow slides and blizzards which should be impossible in their terrain. Peter tore his clothes off and put his suit on, feeling idiotic for wearing a jacket over his spider suit. Ned sets up his own perimeter check, signaling and coding spider-drones to confirm the validity of Beck’s own drones and keep an eye out for unwanted visitors.

He web swings 100,000 meters back to the city, internally thanking May for convincing Mr. Stark to only send them into upstate New York, not too far out into the mountains and terrain.

For once, the Parker Luck might be working on his side once he thwips off of the Statue of Liberty and soars through air with his webs and wings, back out towards the nearest island’s edge. He promises himself to come out here more often, especially in the snow. Whatever New York borough Beck is in, he isn’t nearby Ellis island, and his senses continue to buzz.

New York’s loveable grizzled seen-too-much detective is back in his home city, and he web-swings across vast swaths of water into his city through the heavy snow.

Beck lied to him. He had trusted him. He destroyed his image, causing him to flee from his real life for months . He told him he was a disappointment, and his goodness was a weakness. He watches teenagers play in Washington Square Park, tourists crawling to the nearest safe spots, and ice skaters somehow skating this late at night/early in the morning.

He swings off of the nearest building, listening out for an intel on Beck and he races through Manhattan. It’s an obstacle course for Beck, but not for Peter.

He hears a nearby construction site and a low groaning, something not good. If he reaches these construction sites with free equipment lying around for him to use, he needs to stop him in time before doing anything too drastic. He’s hoping his setup is randomized drones, secured away from the population like in the terminal he last fought him in.

But he knows this is highly unlikely.

Spider-Man finds Beck easily, scanning the construction site for any heat signatures, easily finding him and the drones. How he wanted to be found, near the heart of Manhattan.

“I must be honest, I am so glad to see you again, Petey,” Beck says, voice distorted and warped while he slowly walks further into the construction site, mapping each drop to the floor below or opening above, and each window covered in tarp. “My abilities, my talent, they can’t be stolen from me again.”

Peter turns, scanning via his suit for any signs of Beck, but his ocular scans come back distorted and something lands in front of him, his senses screaming at him at the last possible second and he stumbles into the ground.

Beck’s voice disappears further into the building, and he tries to follow it. He veers left, in a crouch and stumbles into storage bins. “I’ve been waiting for this moment. Admittedly, not for too long, but long enough.”

Peter’s warped back into the city, green gases swirling in the air and black fog consuming the city. No matter how hard it is to stay grounded, he stumbles into the nearest buildings, cars, and people.

“It’s not real,” he whispers to himself, not quite believing it.

“It’s going to be a shame when many people here will have to die, with Spider-Man buried in the snow,” his voice rings to his right, then above him. He sees Beck walking in the shadows of the plot, he follows as closely behind as he can.

Beck disappears above him, and he launches webs onto the nearest pillar, beaming up to the next floor. He leads himself through a new haze of fog, it spans wide and far and out into the real city where real residents live. He runs down a narrow hall, turning a corner into a wider area and sees Beck leading himself outside. He’s a few stories up, and can see Beck standing one story up from the ground.

“Stark wanted to use me. He did use me. Now, your precious lawyers want to destroy my life,” Beck sounds echoey, and it’s freaking him out, because how far away is everybody? Does he need to contact anyone else, like the PD?

“And where were you, Peter?” Beck asks, voice rising and thunderous, “ Living lavishly, spoiled, wealthily like a trust fund kid.”

Spider-Man jumps another floor down, sending another array of webs around the pillars of the building. He placed webbing on all three floors, following Beck’s path back down into the city where the lights will go dark.

“You knew what you were in for, kid, yet you fled,” Beck says bitterly, and he watches the green mist form back around him in his signature suit and helmet. “You couldn’t save yourself, you’re a cancer spreading in this city.”

“You will be exiled for what you did to me, and there will be no return back this time. You will have nobody to save you from your own track record.”

He internally yells, finding another structure to throw his webs. He needs a netting for when the infrastructure falls, undoing Mysterio’s work.

It’s dark, snow flurries escape from outside the plot, and Peter stills once he sees a pile of dead bodies in front of him. He can’t see his city like this, he refuses to get to this aftermath. He turns and runs to a quick stop in front of Beck on the walkway outside.

“I will bring this entire city down, do NOT underestimate me!” Mysterio shouts into the sky, the snow falling heavier into the city illuminated by the glow of the pink sunrise. “Just watch me do it.”

“I won’t let you!” Spider-Man yells, attacking the first drone Mysterio sets in front of him. He casts his webs onto it, launching it into Mysterio. He hears yelps from below, hoping everyone takes the hint and leaves, no matter their commute.

“I said I WILL destroy your city,” Mysterio outcries, sending a thunderous wave of force into the ground, shaking the perimeter and the building’s core.

“ Uh-oh, ” he panics, flipping off the ground and avoiding the skittering and electrical impulses he sends waves of. He’s electrocuted, and he scrambles back far, watching big chunks of cement fall off of each floor's foundation, and he gasps as he tries to catch each piece before it lands onto the street below.

They’re on top of the high rise now, the top of U.N. headquarters, right at the edge. He gasps, watching the plot they were just in a few moments ago crumble to the ground. The screams from the street below ache his bones, and he’s too far away, no—

He’s right inside, but he can’t fucking see where he is, if he walks forward he’ll fall off the building, he’s sure of it. There aren’t any grips for his webs, and he shakes along with the front. There’s more cold wind, sending chills throughout his body. He sees May holding onto the edge of the building, he recognizes her rings. Her fingers desperately cling for life, her blood curdling screams rush into his ears. Everything below them is so small, and he steps closer to the edge of the building where the snow drifts down below them.

This isn’t real.

Beck is playing him, again, and he’s somehow winning right now. He sucks a breath in through his nose, shuts his eyes, and remembers the fate of New York is in his hands. It’s out of Tony’s, out of the PD’s, out of everyone else’s hands but his. It’s his uphill battle, and he hopes the boulder doesn’t fall over the edge.

With his eyes squeezed shut, he aims his arms nefariously to catch each boulder, hears each gust of wind and each terrifying pull of gravity giving the boulder more energy, and he strikes each boulder to stop from collapsing the building.

Mysterio’s making him vulnerable again, and the curtain’s close in front of him. He sprints into the dark before anything can appear, thwipping his webs out into the Manhattan buildings now that the construction site is taken care of.

He listens out for Beck, listening to the buzzing carrying him away in real life, making the city more vulnerable the further he goes.

May is counting on him. She was certain he was having a paranoid episode, and it probably contributed to what he saw, but they’re counting on him. The real Mysterio is right here, heart drumming wildly from his adrenaline. He has no room for error again/

He ignores an incoming phone call from Matt in his mask, catching up to Mysterio transporting to below the Chrysler building. He thrusts his entire body into the velocity of his webs, falling dangerously slow to the ground and ascends straight into the heavy snow.

Spider-Man catches up to Beck on a new rooftop, taking a giant leap off of the Chrysler building to the supporting one below. He glides, landing on the rooftop. He’ll never be tired of the feeling of falling, the snow emulating the act even more and he moves faster.

He runs into him from above, tackling Mysterio to the ground.

Mysterio’s upgraded tech clatters across the ground, and the storm does not clear at all. None of the hail stops, the buildings shake in anticipation for a disastrous fall. Peter sees stars when he swings his arm back, landing a punch on him and immediately getting striked in the head by a drone.

Beck grabs Peter by the neck, using his size on him to slam his head back into the brick wall of the building. He kicks himself off the wall, tackling him and hits him. He strikes, producing red, blue, and purple contusions that the snow can’t cover now. He attempts to yank his helmet off to strike more skin, avoiding drone strikes surrounding him.

“She’s ready!” Mysterio shouts, shoving Spider-Man off and he’s too frozen to strike any of the drones now in formation, in an arrow.

Like a deck of cards shuffling, he watches a new scene in front of him, where his webbing failed and crushed a few dozen meters of buildings crushed under rubble, dust and snow swirling in the sky while the city bursts into haunting tears.

Spider-Man quickly recovers, shaking under his webbing that attaches to the drones, flying at full force. He tries to web them all up, but they relentlessly demolish and set flame to each high-rise nearby. He watches the city crumble, the tarmac of the streets withering under destruction, and he watches helpless people fall into these abysses along with cars and tons of snow, and he tugs on his webs.

“S..See, I was ri—ght, I will kill everyone you love— we will be back.”

He stops one drone, but halts to a stop when the drones crash into another building. He hooks Beck’s suit into a drone, finally having the upperhand and more leverage on the older man. He uses his free hand to grab the helmet, slamming his face into the drone repeatedly, watching the glass break and shatter, cutting him up.

Peter continues to land blows to the face, red blooming and turning to blues and purples around his face. His nose is bloodied, his mouth is ripped apart, and glass shards cut him further. He hopes his head slumps forward, watching an avalanche in the distance makes it way towards fucking Manhattan. His own chest flickers in pain, and he looks down to see the suit torn in half at his chest to reveal a pool of blood thickening. He checks to see if Beck is unconscious, they can hardly hold onto the crashing drones in flight.

He presses the controls, any, hoping to override his coding and deactivate them. This is all too familiar, he must be behind him, waiting. He’s hauled through the sky, grazed against each apartment complex and school and office buildings. He’s woozy, spinning in the air at a high velocity and they begin to crash head-on into FEAST, and his heart lurches.

He sees black.

He’s buried deep in the snow, searching for a pocket of air to breathe through and begin digging from. He can’t feel his hands, but he blindly flops around, trying his hardest to hold his screaming back and failing. His suit is soaked through, offline, and the seams tore and burned his skin with pure frozen snow.

He gasped, not remembering if Matt called back or not, did he ever answer the call? Was the call an illusion? He hears more blood curdling screams surrounding him, and this is real. Not an illusion. Real, real, or.. Fake?

He screams into the dark, the irony of the white-reflecing snow drenching him in blackness. Pounding fear in his body, his veins giving up on him, his cells killing him. Frozen. Only fear courses through each neuron and each cell.

Not knowing if Beck destroyed his city, his family—

He needs out, maybe this is an illusion. Is he back to a few months ago, not believing anything is real? He didn’t see Beck, but he heard him, he should be dead from those drones.

He stares into the finally relenting sky, wondering if he escaped his sisyphus destiny. His vision falls into another illusion, everything’s black, but no this is real, he’s real. He succumbs to exhaustion instead.

His body feels too heavy, he slumps down weakly and lies on his left side.

“I just said, found him outside of FEAST--”

“And what the hell were you doing there?--”

“Does it matter? I called him, he ignored me, and we knew the consequences when we agreed to take on this case--”

“Matt, it’s alright. Foggy, take a breath. You both handled it well.”

He’s in a car. The low hum soothes his aching body and it smells like clorox and blood in here.

“He lost a lot of blood on the scene, he’s hypothermic, for hell’s sake! Do not antagonize me right now.--”

“—We’re not!—“

“He’s a kid. He doesn’t deserve this. Matt, this is extraordinarily worse than when I found you half dead on your couch, already writing your eulogy because I didn’t think I could save you. You were doing it all alone, and I—“

He hears cloth moving around, probably a hand rubbing their back.

“We have it handled.”

“What do you mean handled?! You mean a just as self-sacrificial vigilante clad in red that’s a total maniac? Possible psychopath mercenary? With pool in their name?!”

“Foggy, calm down before your artery bursts.”

Pans clattering and humans talking around him awoke him, and he could’ve sworn he was just at Nelson and Murdock’s law firm in search of a first-aid kit. The talking is what he becomes most aware of when he returns slowly to consciousness, able to feel his limbs.

“Hmfh,” he hums, burying himself further into the warmer clothing he’s wearing and the familiar Hello Kitty blanket a 6 year old he knows owns. The pillows feel like homes, though.

“Welcome back, walking dead,” Tony greets, waving someone over from beside him. He’s walking in from around the corner where the kitchen is, a familiar smell of his favorite chocolate babka simmering through the air. Tony sits down beside him, feeling the couch cushion sink down. He runs a hand through his hair, squeezing his shoulder and sighing. Peter props himself up on one elbow, his smile returning when he sees May run into the room and tackle him into the couch cushions with a hug.

“I’m so sorry for not believing you, honey,” May tears up, pulling back to take a closer look at him. He’s hyper aware of his surroundings, his memories slowly fade back in. He sees the confusion run across her face, and she makes no move to bring it up. “You did so good.”

The next few days result in the same ways. He’s bedbound for now, receiving updates by his own lawyers that the city isn’t suing him for damages this time and that local vigilantes and authorities are cleaning up the city. He was an open book to his family and friends, splayed out for all of them to pick, poke, and prod at.

Even with the best intentions, they were overbearing.

He spent most of his newfound freetime continuing his part-time jobs. His photography job at the Daily Bugle is allowing him, graciously, to write articles in the meantime he’s out of photo-commission. He picked up writing articles for Nelson and Murdock, who were still a mess.

He and May both had many emotions over this, what this meant for his recovery, and how he won’t put his recovery on the back-burner.

They all avoid talking about him. Where he is, what happened. News articles never seem to reach him.

Closer to Christmas during the time his friends celebrated, he can’t help but feel isolated and the paranoia coils through him once again. He needs to begin recovery slowly, because he can’t handle being separated from Tony, Pepper, and Morgan currently, and especially May when she leaves for work or to pick up groceries.

Despite receiving a scholarship to MIT, all of his trauma probably counts out any chance of college anytime soon. He doubts he can go back to being a normal person, preparing every possible scenario for when he returns, and he feels like begging on his knees for help. He and May pass more time saving up for tuition money, just in case.

He’s safe now. He’s home. He waits for the other shoe to drop. For the boulder to fall off the top of the cliff.

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