Spoon Slayer

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Spiderverse x Reader [SHE/THEY] [MASTERLIST] [SERIES MASTERLIST] [PREVIOUS] - [NEXT] SUMMARY: You visit Uncle Aaron to find that Miles is there as well. Might as well use this time to bond, catch up and have fun. A/N: SPIIUUUDDDDEEERRR BIIIITEEE

“Never go on the public transit alone,” a mantra that had been driven into you since day one. Always go with a friend, with your brother, with someone. And even now, you’ve stayed true to it. Your parents knew that the streets of New York wasn’t exactly safe for people to travel alone. No matter the city. Hell, no matter the state. So, you walked. Sure, it might’ve been a quicker route to get to Uncle Aaron’s, but… You weren’t risking it.

Now that you were thinking about it, Uncle Aaron didn’t really live that far. It was within walking distance… In a way. Doesn’t matter. You were walking. No harm no foul, right?

As you got to the building, you paused. “Hey!” Your uncle bounded over, an arm around your brother’s shoulders. Tugging him along as he went, “There you are! Look at who else stopped by?” Aaron shook Miles around a little, a wry smile coming to his lips. “My favorite twins,” Aaron added after a moment.

Miles’ smile looked tight as he shook him around. “Uncle Aaron…”

“I’m messing with you. Alright, you two, we’ve got places to be.” “Where..?” You felt out of place. As if you walked into the middle of a conversation, hardly grasping onto context clues. In a way, you did.

Your uncle let go of Miles. “Oh, you’ll see. You’ll like it.”

Well. It sure was something.

An abandoned hideaway that you would only see in… Well, see in movies. You wanted to, for just a moment, ask how he found that place. You doubted it was through any bad means. Probably went exploring and came across it. Or something. It was musty. Not too bad, but you could handle it. “Wow,” you’d breathe. “This is…”

“Perfect,” Miles finished for you. “How’d you find this place?” The teen spun briefly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Your uncle settled his hands atop his hips. “You bring the Spraypaint I told you to stash?”

“Of course,” Miles slipped off his backpack. “This is the perfect… Wow.”

“My speaker in there too?” Aaron lifted a hand from his hips, hoisting the backpack from your brother, unzipping the bag and rifling through it. “Perfect. Everything’s here. You two ready to make some art?”

Graffiti was not your strong suit. Your brother, however? He was flourishing. You were never good with paint, so it came as no surprise to you that it looked sloppy when you did it. Next to your brother’s and Uncle’s combined artwork? It looked mediocre at best. “Miles likes realism, I like… Cartoony things, I guess,” you explained back in middle school to your Uncle. After many pointed out and commented on your art, and how it didn’t ‘get better.’ Became a point of contention, an insecurity that had you turning your sketchbook away from your peers - family, too.

“Well, I like cartoony.” Was what your uncle replied with. It made you feel seen. You were always so confident, so happy and free. That seeing you hide so vehemently had your uncle worrying.

“Looks good,” Aaron patted your back as you gave one last spray of white to your little piece of graffiti art. “Picasso. Abstract.”

“I wasn’t going for that.”

“Still looks good. You wanna help us finish up this mural?”

“… Alright, okay.”

You sat on the ground, watching them as they worked. You helped, yeah, but it was by tossing over some spray cans. You didn’t mind though. It was nice. Talking and smiling, laughing and taunting. Especially with the music that played. “You missed a spot, Miles!” You called, pointing out an area that he was very obviously working on.

“No I didn’t,” he was quick to bite back, snickering. “Oh, did I tell you what Uncle Aaron said? Told him there was this cute girl at school, right?” Miles turned to you, shaking the can a few times. A clattering sound erupted with each shake. “Said to put my hand on her shoulder and say… Hey.” He reenacted the conversation. Wandering over to you. He placed his hand on your shoulder. “Like… Like this, right? Hey.” He repeated.

Towards the end of his sentence, the teen’s voice cracked. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want, Miles. But it’s pretty good advice. Your father used it on your mom.” Your uncle punched Miles’ shoulder lightly.

“He did not,” you retorted, taking the spray can from Miles’ hand and brushing off the palm that still rested atop your shoulder. You gave a spray at the ground.

One dot. Another dot. And a small curve beneath them. A little smiley face. “He did. You can ask him, I bet you twenty dollars he did.” Your uncle motioned to an overturned spray can just a few feet away. “Can you hand that over? Just got one last thing to add onto this.”

Miles, wordlessly, reached for it. Like hell you’d let him get it before you did. “I’ve got it,” damn near crawled to it, fingers curling around the Spraypaint in triumph. You held it up and gave it a little waggle, a victory. “I was about to grab..” Miles protested. “Oh, I’m gonna kill you for that.” He snatched the can from your hand, a little jolt curling around your arm. Dread.

That’s… Odd. It felt like you weren’t supposed to grab… That’s fine. It’s probably nothing. “I’m not going down without a fight. I’ll beat your- Ow.” Your fingers twitched abruptly. Like a bee sting, or poke of a needle. Fire shot up your arm and quickly dissipated, dispersing to an itchy ache that crawled over your skin. Twisting your wrist, your face went pallid. There, a spider perched atop one of your knuckles. “Holy,” you smacked your hand hurriedly, before brushing your hand off and standing. “No more sitting, definitely no more sitting for me.”

“Mn?” Miles returned to your uncle’s side. “What’s up?”

“A spider just bit me,” you hissed, rubbing the area with a thumb. “Hope it wasn’t poisonous or something…”

“You know what? Finish this up for me, Miles. I’ll take a look.”

When the Mural was finished - and after a thorough inspection from Uncle Aaron, you were deemed to be okay and took a moment to admire the mural your brother and uncle created together. They insisted you had a big part in it as well, but you digress. Your artwork, of which stood feet from their combined efforts, looked small. Minuscule and unpracticed.

“You two, come over here. Let’s take a picture.”

“A selfie,” Miles corrected.

“Close enough.”

The picture your uncle took wasn’t anything special. Taken in landscape mode, Uncle Aaron held his phone up high, high enough to frame both the three of you and the mural in the background. You and Miles crowded his side. “Smile.” You cracked the biggest smile you could, leaning in. Miles had a closed smile, holding up a hand behind your uncle’s head. Two fingers poked out from behind him. Your Uncle took the picture while he was mid-laugh. A candid smile. “I’ll send you two the picture. Pack up. Time to head out.”

“Really?”

You walked home alone. Each step had you feeling heavier and your skin prickled. The air felt hot and suffocating. Your muscles ached, as if you ran the entirety of the way home. Perhaps you were getting sick? Maybe.

Unlocking the front door, you half expected one of your parents to be waiting and asking how it went. Rather, you found your father draped over the couch, an arm over his forehead as he snored. Your mother, thankfully, was waiting for you. Her hair was pulled from its hair tie, hanging loosely behind her back. She looked tired, but ever happy to see you.

“Mama,” you breathed. You felt light headed. “Hi.”

“Hey,” your mother took a few slow steps towards you. “How’d it go? You have a nice chat?”

Her voice was slipping away from you, and you tried desperately to grasp what you could. “Yeah,” you slurred. “Sorry, ‘think I caught someth’ on the way home…”

Your mother frowned, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. “Oh. Oh, you’re burning up. Let’s get you to bed, and…”

You don’t remember much after that. Just how nauseating moving was, and how your stomach lurched as you downed 30ml of some medicine you couldn’t remember the name of.

Waking up, you felt… Fine. Better than fine, actually. The medicine must’ve done wonders, seeing as the sickness had seeped from your being. Must’ve been a fluke, you decided, pushing yourself up from bed. Then, your alarm went off and you almost broke your phone.

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Spiderverse x Reader [SHE/THEY] SUMMARY: That spider wasn’t supposed to bite you. You aren’t meant for this, for this life you were forced into. You’re just a kid, you’re still figuring out your life. With insecurities arising with your brother’s academic achievements, this does not help. Reader is Miles’ twin. And, rather mistakenly, takes his place.

Takes place during Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse(2018).

[1. Lonesome]

Spiderverse x Reader [SHE/THEY] [MASTERLIST] [SERIES MASTERLIST] [PREVIOUS] - [NEXT] SUMMARY: Growing up, you always had your brother. Now? He’s gotten into that amazing Academy. Your parents are just so proud of him. And then… There’s you. And you’ve never felt more alone. A/N: Hello! This is… Going to be a (she/they) reader type beat. I’ll keep the gender rather vague, but at some points there will be gendering. You know what I mean? This is the first part to the series I’m working on. I hope you enjoy! Stay tuned for more. ALSO ITS GOING TO BE AWKWARD FOR THE FIRST PART! It’s the first day of highschool, of course it’s going to be awkward and going to be reflected in the writing.

Never in your life have you gone to school alone. Sure, you didn’t share classes with Miles, but you’ve always had someone who walked to and from school with you. You’ve always had someone who shared your frustrations and learned what you did. You always had someone who you could rant to about classes that weren’t just friends.

Never in your life have you not had your brother. And today? As you pulled on your backpack and watched as Miles stepped out of his room wearing a uniform. Wearing a blazer and slacks, and his backpack heavy on his shoulders. You hadn’t thought about the prospect at all during the summer. It was an ever looming topic that you turned away from just so you could at least enjoy the summer. And now, here you were. Forced to face what you’ve ignored. You’re going to be alone.

When the offer came up to be driven to school, you just about jumped at the offer.

“Oh, uh, yeah. We’d love a ride. Right , Miles?”

“I’ll walk to school,” was all your brother said. In that instant, your hopes and dreams were crushed. One last car ride together? Where, every “first day” you two went with your father?

“Oh.” You felt dread crawl up your shoulders. You’re going to be alone on the way to school, too. That’s okay. That’s… You can deal with that.

Despite how embarrassing it was, the car ride was a yearly tradition. If anything, you’d expect him to want a ride more than ever. The Academy was far. Farther than you two were used to. But still. He was allowed to walk there. You two weren’t obligated to always be together. It was time that you two had done something separate… Right? This was a good thing!

As much as you told yourself this, it didn’t make you feel any better about it.

“Just you and me then,” your father prompted conversation as he settled into the car and you into the backseat. “Excited for highschool?”

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. You turned your gaze out the window, leaning against the door. If only Miles was here. Sharing your pain. Your mother had fussed over you enough on the way out the door, and now you had to endure some talk from your father? Alone? Oh, you’re going to wring Miles’ neck during the weekend. “Dad…”

“Come on. I know it’s scary. But, you’re strong. You know that?” A pause as he came across a stop sign. It was clear he was thinking through his words, trying to find a damn good pep talk. But words failed him. The silence dragged on, and you tilted your head to peer over at him.

Your father’s brows were furrowed, and his lips pulled into a flat line. His eyes remained forward before abruptly meeting yours through the rear-view mirror. “I know you’re going to miss Miles. But this opportunity…”

“I know.”

“There weren’t many slots. You wouldn’t have…”

“Dad, I know. It’s fine. I’ll be okay.”

You hardly paid attention to your father’s words as the car neared the school. What brought you back, however, was the car’s sudden jolt to a stop. Miles had tripped into the crosswalk. Coincidentally in front of your father’s car, too.

You, rather quickly, traded places with Miles. The school was right there, so it was the most logical thing to do.

“So, you goin’ to miss Miles while he’s at that smart people’s school?” It was a tease from a familiar face. Some girl in Miles’ friend group. Freshly dyed pink hair, you were honestly surprised that her hair wasn’t completely damaged. “Gonna have the whole place to yourself, dude.”

Right. Your mother worked long hours and school got out long before your father got out of work. “I’m going to throw a party,” you promised. A smile was quick to light up your face. Talking soothed you. Your father called you a social butterfly, your brother deemed you annoying. Your mother reassured that you were just friendly.

“You better invite me,” the girl chided. “We’re gonna trash Miles’ room.”

“Bet.”

The bell rang. And the first day of highschool was to begin. This wasn’t… Well, this wasn’t like middle school. The halls were long, and as you looked at your schedule, your classes were far apart. No one stopped to talk, pushing past one another with places to be. Your new peers hardly spared a glance. There was no hierarchy. Just kids who thought they were popular.

Classes were quiet and teachers tried for connections. Ice breakers were a constant through each class. Your fun facts about yourself had remained the same through each class. “I have a twin brother, my father is a police officer, and my mother is a nurse.” You’ve repeated it enough that it’s become a mantra. “I have a twin brother,” You’d say to one class mate. They’d roll their eyes and you’d straighten out your back. “My father is a police officer,” You’d say to another. They’d snicker and whisper to a friend. Your brows furrow and your lips press into a fine line. “… My mother is a nurse,” You’d whisper at last. It’s routine at this point. You’ve never been more thankful for it to be the last class of the day.

“That’s neat.”

That’s new. “What?” You’d croak. Your eyebrows raise, and you briefly gape. A friend, maybe? “Oh. Uhm, yeah! It’s neat. My mom’s a Nurse.” You’d tap on the desk before you, leaning forward a little. The girl that sat in front of you had responded to your little ice breaker the teacher had prompted. The others hadn’t participated. You were one of the few who properly introduced yourself to new people. Her hair was blonde, wavy. It ended a good bit above her shoulders. An overgrown bob, really. She smiled, the corners of her eyes creasing. The gap between her teeth stood out and her eyes bore into yours.

Almost analytical.

“I heard you’ve got a twin. That’s sick.” She was kind, at least. And she was listening. “I’m Gw…” The girl paused. Drawing out her words before finding them again. “Gwanda. Y’know, I’m out of state.”

“Gwanda?” You’d test, leaning forward on your braced arms. “That’s a nice name. Where are you from?”

After school, you sat alone. Sitting at the couch. You were alone. It finally settled in. Your mother worked late, as to be expected. But your father? He began to pick up more shifts. Said he was working towards a promotion. Without Miles you had nothing. There was Uncle Aaron, but… You didn’t think you needed to visit him just yet. You can handle yourself, can’t you?

Going into your room, you settled down on your bed. Homework was done, you ate a snack, and now? You had to kill time. You could write, draw, play some games. Maybe call a friend? Or Miles. He wouldn’t pick up, so… That’d be a lost cause.

And so, it became routine.

You’d go to school. Do your work for each class, sit alone at lunch. Your friends, luckily for you, didn’t share a lunch period with you. So lucky. Your saving grace was your last period, of which Gwanda entertained you until your teacher took to the front of the class. Then, met up with your friends and walked home. Did your homework. Ate dinner alone occasionally and had to do it all again.

You’ve never felt more alone.

It took about a week, maybe two, before you cracked. You called your uncle, asked if you could come over. And so, you left a note on the kitchen counter.

Gone out to see Uncle Aaron. I’ll be back soon! Love, your favorite child.

Hello, howdy, hi. Finally, I’ve found it in me to write something with passion behind it, a few series that I’ve had in the back of my mind and waiting to be pursuit.

SERIES I WANT TO WRITE

Spider-Verse rewrite - Reader is written in place of Miles Morales. It won’t be an exact retelling. Thinking about titling it ‘Wrong Person, Wrong Time’ or some shit idk I’ll figure it out.

The Amazing Spider-Man 3, “Alone” - Reader is tasm!Peter Parker’s son. Revolves around the reader going through a rebellious phase and wanting to “be Spider-Man.” Takes place around No Way Home, during the time Peter isn’t exactly around. Reader learns what it’s like to be Spider-Man.

The Winter Soldier and Black Widow’s kid - I’ll find a title for it later. It’s based off of this incomplete series I found on tumblr a while back, I’ll link it here if I find it again. Natasha Romanoff x Bucky Barnes.

How to Train Your Dragon “Bastard Child” - May or may not write this one, but its first chapter IS in my notes app, so maybe. Takes place after the third movie, where Reader is the child of Hiccup and Astrid. Reader rediscovers dragons. Maybe. Not too confident about this one, but still.

”Spider-Girl” MCU - Another one based off of another story. This time, found off of Quotev. Retelling of MCU Peter Parker with a kid attached to it. I’ll link it once I find it.

Eddsworld - Once again, another series that’s based off of a fanfic I read a while back off of Quotev. I was desperate, okay? But, it was a damn good one that inspired me to write. I’ll link it here once I find it.

And maybe, MAYBE an Aphmau x Reader thing. - Sue me, the series is coming back in fall, I believe. Let me indulge.

Things I’d love to revisit!

I’d love to expand on and explore the Tony Stark x Son!Reader headcanons. If y’all would request something involving the same version of the Reader, I’d love to indulge.

Any of y’all remember Loki x Child!Reader? I’d love to expand and remake what I had done before.

Friend/Sibling readers are on the table.

And, very hesitantly, I’m more open to romantic requests. Now, I’m not THAT open. But, I’m willing to occasionally indulge you all.

Thank you for reading!

-auntie coal

Being Tony Stark’s Son

Tony Stark x Son!Reader [MASTERLIST] SUMMARY: The life of Tony Stark’s son through the years. WARNINGS: Mentions of death, kidnapping, grief. A/N: So sorry for the late reply, so much has happened. I understand you had requested this in 2024 and it’s now 2025. I didn’t expect it to take me so long. I’m not going to go into detail on why, as it’s personal. I hope that I had written this to your liking. This is headcanons, so it’s going to be bulleted. So much shit happened that I had to push it to the side. I hope you enjoy! [GIF NOT MINE]

Of course, you were a product of a one night stand.

Your mother hooked up with your father one fateful 2006/7 night and of course she got pregnant.

A party and many drinks later led to your very existence.

Your father had never shared what happened with your mother, how he had gotten custody over you. So, there’s that part of the story you’ll never know the answer to.

Not that it mattered. She’s not around to tell her story, and knowing how you got here wasn’t going to change what happened to you.

Now, your father wasn’t the best in the beginning. Leaving you with babysitter after babysitter. Well, they were more like nannies that often got switched out. After all, he was still a playboy. Becoming a father would do little to hinder his lifestyle.

Until he became Ironman. You were about two when it happened, your only memory of the event was your father’s assistant. Was she an assistant? God, you can’t remember. She took care of you during his absence, when he was in that foreign country assumed to be dead.

If anything, the moment your father became Ironman was the moment he became a dad. Not your birth, not the moment he held you. The moment he grew into a better father was the moment he became Ironman.

The whole arc reactor thing mesmerized you. Your eyes would be glued to his chest as it glowed in dim lighting.

If anyone asked you what happened between the day your father became Ironman to the day the Avengers saved the world for the first time, you’d honestly wouldn’t be able to answer them. Those years hadn’t much to remember. After all, you were still a child during this time. If anything, the most adventure you had during those years was preschool, happy driving you around and being a begrudging babysitter when you were left unattended. As much as Peppy Potts (as you were to call her, her name wasn’t as easy as one would assume,) adored you, she was no babysitter.

Hell, even a brief memory of silent plans your father made in the case of his death would cross your mind. He was hiding a lot, those days.

Getting picked up in a non-extravagant vehicle was something that your father wasn’t too keen on. He was a flashy man with gimmicks only the rich could partake. And yet, it was done to keep you safe. Hell, you even had a false last name for the first few years of your life. You were too young to protect yourself. It was quickly done after some paparazzi got a whiff of the school you were attending and crowded the school just as you were getting out.

It was a stupid last name, too. It was a wonder you weren’t bullied by four year olds. Or kidnapped. Honestly, you were too trusting, too loving.

Well, you were kidnapped that one time. Loki got you. Thats honestly how you remember some bits and pieces of it all. It was such a scary few days. Spent a while shaking and bundled up. Met a few heros and spent quite a bit of time with your father. Once again, this triggered another onslaught of changes with your father. He spent time with you. An actual father.

The more you think about it, the more you realize you were far too young to comprehend the majority events of your past. The big bads, the small things. All you really remember is being a kid. You heard almost everything second-hand. You were there for such small increments, pushed off before it was too dangerous.

When Ultron came to fruition and the world’s safety was at risk, you were, once more, sent away. However, you remembered this one. You stayed with the Barton family once the Avengers had been sent there. You were roughly eight or so.

Clint’s kids were great, though. So was his wife. They were fun to play with. Especially Lila, she was closer to your age. Called Natasha her aunt. You want to call Natasha your aunt, too. A privilege that you had shyly asked for right before you were properly entrusted and left with the family.

Aunt Nat said yes.

You helped Mrs.Barton, as you were too afraid to ask her for her name, with whatever she asked her children of. You felt it would be unfair otherwise. Despite the insurance, you pushed on.

Lila played dolls with you, chased you through the fields. It was fun. Best friends forever, you’d say with a grin.

Going back home was not fun. Saying goodbye to the Barton’s tearfully, your father had begrudgingly agreed to let you visit sparsely. But visit nonetheless.

Your family got a little bigger.

Hell, you even got the guts to shyly ask Peppy to be your mom. By then, she had been dating your father and been such a big part of your life that she qualified for the title. Even took over driving you to and from school. Of course, with a normal looking car.

Your first birthday party that you properly enjoyed also happened in this time. You had friends attending, your father attending, your newfound mother attending. Even new aunts and uncles.

You even qualified for the gifted program. However, you contested. You were a smart kid, smarts practically ran in the family. But you didn’t want to change classes. You wanted to remain in the same classes as your friends. The need to nurture your smarts may not have occurred in school but it had with afterschool activities.

Tutors and small projects in which your help was enlisted had proved very valuable. In which you had showcased immense understanding.

At the staggering age of 9-10, during the time of what the press dubbed as ‘civil war,’ the enactment of the Superhero Registration Act, you were accepted into the Stark Internship. One of many, really. Without bias. One would assume it held some considering your age, but your father insisted, as well as your mother, it be done the proper way.

You were surrounded by teenagers, older than you. Even adults. Few got into the program. Including a rather nervous and anxious Peter Parker. Your father liked him. A lot. Hell, because of this you were in proximity with Peter often. Knew of his secrets.

”Peter,” you’d find yourself leaning over the teen’s shoulder one afternoon. He was having lunch with your father.

”Yeah?”

”Can you show me some cool tricks?”

Peter would look between you and your father. Nervous. “Go ahead,” your father would say.

Your favorite super hero, from then on, was Spider-Man. He became your favorite hero. Your big brother. Your babysitter. Ned Leeds, as you learned his name from Peter, asked you a plentiful of questions that you hardly knew the answer to once you met him. Primarily about what happened during those aforementioned fights you never witnessed.

About when you got kidnapped. That’s when Peter’s blood ran cold, panicking. You assured them it was fine. You hardly remembered it. Just bits and pieces. It doesn’t scare you anymore.

Life went on. Your father had a fight with Peter, Peter lost his internship, Peter got back his internship. He was still your older brother.

Now, once more, you were left out of it. But, the Blip, you were at school when it happened. Your father out in space and your mother worrying like no tomorrow. The last bell and you were on your way to the car. Students around you fizzled to nothing, parents and teachers too. You yelped, running to your mother.

A lot of calls were made. No Lila, no Peter, no dad. Your world crumbled, grades plummeting.

And then dad came home, skeletal.

There was a few weeks of finding a new normal. Mourning was not easy. Classes were quiet. And the impromptu move. Your parents got married and you were an older brother.

You started highschool. And honestly? It was rough. You thought about life a lot. You were being sent to Peter’s highschool, something you begged for once you entered middle school. You always wanted to be like him.

At 15 your father allowed you to tinker with some suits. Much like the anniversary gift for your mother, you were allowed to make your own. Not for proper use just yet, for experience. And for a father-son bonding. Sue him, you grew out of playing catch at seven and had been itching to create something remotely similar to the Ironman suit for years now. Might as well allow you to do something remotely similar under supervision.

Family time happened often. With Morgan constantly asking you to play with her, or mom asking you to help her with cooking. And, with dad consistently aiding you in this project.

You were never alone.

And then dad died and so many people came back from the dead.

Lila was still that kid. You were older than her now instead of the other way around. You desperately wanted to remain friends with her, best friends, but you felt odd, awkward.

Peter Parker wasn’t your big brother anymore. He was your equal. He was a grade ahead of you, and you shared electives. It was… So weird.

”Look… Look at how big you’ve gotten,” Peter would breathe once he got a good look at you, hands settling on your shoulders. “Oh, man. You… You look like…”

”My dad?”

”Yeah.”

You’ve been getting that one a lot now. You’ve grown into your features. Many of which recognizable and comparable to your father’s. It broke you once your mother pointed it out one day. A gentle hand resting upon your shoulder as you gone through a box of his old blueprints. “You look like your father, you know. Got his smile, his nose, his hair,” she’d tease by scrunching your your hair. You’d laugh it off, biting your cheek as a pit opened in your stomach.

Depression and anguish ate away at your limbs, the funeral taking more from you. Locked away in that bedroom, your sister would sit outside and ask you to come play. Despite having gained them back, you’ve felt… So lonely.

Peter dropped by often. A request from your mother. It was weird. This all felt wrong. Lila, too. Despite the age difference between you two, she insisted upon maintaining the friendship she still felt you had.

It’s hard. But it’ll get easier. An assurance.

They’d help you.

You started working on the suit again. And day by day, it’ll get easier. Just stay in contact with those you love. Make friends.

”The road to recovery ain’t easy, bud,” your mother would say on the harder days. A hand pressed firmly to your back. “What matters is you do what you can to get through it.”

And you took it to heart.

Okay, so this is an AU where Gwen doesn't die and she and Peter stay together and Gwen gets pregnant. Maybe you can write that she goes into labor and Peter has a cute fluff moment with being able to hold/see his son and Peter trying to calm him down.

Or

TASM Peter Parker x Son Reader

Peter is a single dad and it's his son's first doctor's appointment in the end, the reader has to get a shot and gets scared so Peter does his best to calm him down.

[Sorry I need fluff right now]

Shots Aren’t That Bad

TASM!Peter Parker x Son!Reader [MASTER LIST] SUMMARY: Peter hasn’t been a proper father in so long. So, when you begin to throw a fit over needing shots, he doesn’t know how to handle it. WARNINGS: Needles, shots, Doctor Offices + Brief mentions of depression and death. A/N: Hello! I’m back, and you’re the first request I’m writing for! I tweaked it a bit, so let me know if you didn’t want that! Please excuse how long it’s taken me to write this, I’m trying to get back into the groove of things. Let me know about any mistakes in my writing, and I’ll get to fixing it soon. Enjoy! [GIF NOT MINE]

Peter honestly didn’t know how his uncle did it, taking a kid to a scheduled appointment for shots. Having to wrestle the petrified kid to sit still long enough for a shot to the arm.

Because, right now, he had to sooth a screaming five year old. Sure, it would’ve been nice to have some help but he had to learn to do this himself. He wasn’t sixteen anymore, he was almost twenty-one. Aunt May won’t always be there to help him.

Peter’s depression after Gwen’s death lasted far too long for his liking. He missed out on quite a bit and had a lot of… For a lack of better words, ‘dad duties’ to catch up on. And, god forbid, it was hard. Really hard.

Frustration bubbled through his chest as soon as the doctor left the room. When his five year old son, You, immediately turned to beg for a way out of getting a shot. Pleading.

“Daddy,” you began, fingers moving to curl into Peter’s shirt. Peter gritted his teeth. He shouldn’t get frustrated with you, but he couldn’t help it. It’s been so long since he’d last dealt with a potential tantrum, so his skills lacked and his knowledge failed.

Why did he have to fall into that deep depression? This all would’ve been so much easier if he hadn’t closed himself off.

“You’re getting that shot,” Peter lifted his hand, brushing his fingers delicately through your hair. It did little to sedate your fear. And honestly? Peter didn’t expect it to. So he was far from surprised on how you reacted. “I know it’s scary, buddy, but afterwards we’re going to get some food.”

“Daddy,” you repeated, voice growing louder. Peter grimaced. A tantrum was imminent, and he was dreading its approach. Your bottom lip trembled in the pout you had mustered, eyes tearful and cheeks just about to be streaked with tears. “I don’t want it, it’s gonna hurt.”

“I know. It’ll be over before you know it. Just, bear with me here. Don’t cry, please don’t cry,” Peter damn near pleaded. His hands moved from your hair to cradle your face. You’ve grown to fit into his palms comfortably. Peter ignored the dull ache in his chest at the realization.

He’d missed it.

“It’s going to hurt,” You repeated. You were crying now, grabbing at his shirt. “It always hurts,” Peter grit his teeth. He had to stay calm. You were just a child, of course you had fears and trouble with regulating your emotions. He wiped some tears.

“Please,” You pleaded. This wasn’t going to work on him. But, it didn’t hurt to try.

“Kid,” Peter spoke more sternly now. “No. C’mon, there has to be something to calm you…” Peter muttered, more to himself than to you.

There had to be something to sedate this fear. Something had to work, something had to give. And, despite all his efforts, it led to screaming. (Of course it did, or else it wouldn’t have been mentioned at the beginning of this story.)

Frustration had finally seeped from his chest and into his head, clouding his mind as tears, too, flooded his eyes. And that was what got you to cease your screaming and crying, reduced to hiccups as your father damn near sobbed from the frustration you were bringing him.

Guilt. You felt guilt numb your fears. “Daddy…?” You wiped your face haphazardly, hands now wet with salty tears from your short lived tantrum.

“What?” Peter replied, exasperated. He had long since backed away from you, hands now clutching at his hair and tugging lightly. He had even sat himself down on the seat beside the examination table you sat upon. His tone was harsh, tired. Once he got a look at your face, your reaction, he sighed and softened up. “What is it?”

You didn’t reply for a moment, silently studying him. Something you picked up during his absence from your life. From a young age, you had to adapt to mood swings between good days and bad days. Where your father was energized enough to Sit and watch a movie to the days he’d lay in bed, easily irritated by your presence and getting Aunt May to take care of you. You learned to tell his mood from it.

From what you saw, he wasn’t a ‘Happy Daddy,’ or a ‘Mad Daddy.’ Neither of those categories were linear but just a general sense of if he was in a mood or not. Rather, this one, was more of a ‘Sad Daddy.’ (The system of which you developed wasn’t full proof. As, sometimes he looked happy when he was sad.)

With this assessment, you briefly fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, tugging on it for just a moment. “I’m sorry.” Your voice was quiet, meek.

And Peter paused. He’d heard that tone before, many times. From the days he’d lay in bed, mindlessly scrolling and groaning in disdain that his Son even requested his attention and called for his Aunt to get you. (He’ll never forgive himself for those days. He was going to rebuild this relationship with his son.)

“It’s okay, I…” Peter stopped, wetting his lips. He was back to standing. “It’s okay. I just got frustrated, that’s all. It’s okay,” he reassured.

“I’ll get the shot,” You continued, watching as Peter gently grasped your hands in his. “I won’t cry, I promise. I’ll be a big boy.”

Peter honestly didn’t like how you were acting. Not in the sense it made him angry, more so… Sad. Guilty. You were trying to act mature, trying to seem less like a little boy and more like an understanding adult. “You can cry. Don’t… Don’t act like this, please. It’s.. I…” Peter struggled. He couldn’t find the right words, really. “Crying shows you’re strong..?” Was that the right thing to say? God damn it. He didn’t know what he was doing and it showed. Next time Aunt May gives him unsolicited parenting advice, he’s going to listen.

OKAY!!! Hello, I think you’ve all noticed quite a few changes!

I’m opening up requests now! I’m sorry for all my previous inbox requests that probably won’t get answers. Check out my master list to see what I’m writing for. Don’t be afraid to do a pairing, too!

AO3 (Archive Of Our Own)

Connor

[Nothing here yet.]

Kara

[Nothing here yet.]

Markus

[Nothing here yet.]

Hank Anderson

[Nothing here yet.]

Gavin Reed

Tim Wright

[Nothing here yet.]

Brian Thomas

[Nothing here yet.]

Alex Kralie

[Nothing here yet.]

Jay Merrick

Series

Wrong Place, Wrong Time [Morales!Reader] That spider wasn’t supposed to bite you. You aren’t meant for this, for this life you were forced into. You’re just a kid, you’re still figuring out your life. With insecurities arising with your brother’s academic achievements, this does not help.

Miles Morales

[Nothing here yet.]

Peter B. Parker

[Nothing here yet.]

Gwen Stacy

[Nothing here yet.]

Miguel O’Hara

TASM (The Amazing Spider-Man)

Peter Parker

Shots Aren’t That Bad [Son!Reader] Peter hasn’t been a proper father in so long. So, when you begin to throw a fit over needing shots, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Gwen

[Nothing here yet.]

Aunt May

[Nothing here yet.]

Uncle Ben

[Nothing here yet.]

MCU (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

Peter Parker

[Nothing here yet.]

MJ

[Nothing here yet.]

Aunt May

[Nothing here yet.]

Tony Stark

Being Tony Stark’s Son [Son!Reader]

The life of Tony Stark’s son through the years.

Steve Rogers

[Nothing here yet.]

Bucky Barnes

[Nothing here yet.]

Doctor Strange

[Nothing here yet.]

Shuri

[Nothing here yet.]

Wanda Maximoff

[Nothing here yet.]

Pietro Maximoff

[Nothing here yet.]

Thor

[Nothing here yet.]

Loki

Crowley

[Nothing here yet.]

Aziraphale

Edd

[Nothing here yet.]

Matt

[Nothing here yet.]

Tom

[Nothing here yet.]

Tord