Beautiful Dress Adorning A Beautiful Talented Artist Capturing A Wonderful Moment. May There Be Many

Beautiful dress adorning a beautiful talented artist capturing a wonderful moment. May there be many more award winning memories in her future.

i literally love this photo so much. idk if this makes sense but i genuinely don’t think anyone has ever looked more like an oscar winner in their life 💛

*Sobbing*

It was so beautiful. The emotion, but most importantly and I cannot stress this enough--the communication. The younger one is, the harder it can be to talk it over because those skills are still developing. It's one of those things that we don't really learn in school (although we probably should) but rather through hard won experience--the examples from our families with whom we live(d), the relationships with others. It helps when those experiences are positive and combined with love and empathy, but so many many times it is chaotic and haphazard and as in the case between Peter and Trouble--imbalanced. Here's hoping they can work it out together.

the long awaited and heavily requested part 2 to this request.

Peter knows he did something wrong, he knows he violated your trust in him, he knows how disappointed you’d be in him, how you requested he leave one thing alone and he couldn’t. 

It’s not that he planned it, he didn’t actively wait until the opportunity arose to strike his attack, it just fell into his lap. You politely requested him to pick up some of your things on his way back to the frat house from class, Peter was the one that asked you to stay another night and in turn you needed clothes and schoolwork. 

And he was more than happy to deliver, moving around your room quickly packing up clothes, even folding them for you. Stuffing your backpack with your laptop, charger, notebooks and the textbook you needed, he completed the task in record timing. 

Peter hitched the strap over his shoulder before lowering it, muttering to himself walking back to your desk. “Notes, notes, notes, vocab notes…” He opened the catch all drawer in your desk, shuffling papers around, none of them the one you needed. It has to be on top, you were just using them, Peter grabbed a stack and quickly flipped through. 

A successful grin took over his face when he found them, pulling the paper from the stack his movements faltered. Right behind was that creative writing paper, the one you refused to let him read, the one you said would make him sad and drew a hard boundary on. 

It would be a total violation of your trust, but if it’s about him, and more importantly, about the two of you, doesn’t he have a right to know? It wasn’t fiction, you didn’t draw up a make believe story, you wrote about your feelings, and it kills him to know that they most likely weren’t good. 

What if he just skimmed it, or is that just as bad and he’s justifying it? 

He wishes he had a stronger willpower, but you make him weak. 

Peter drops to sit on the edge of your bed, his eyes reading over the bright red ‘A’ and the prompt, it makes his stomach queasy. 

‘Write about a time someone in the story has a lot of hard lessons to learn.’ 

Peter closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, if he reads this he either has to tell you immediately or bring it to the grave. It’d be easier if he removes himself from the situation entirely and leaves, but he’s already reading the first paragraph. 

It’s brutal. A blow by blow of your relationship, each moment you were broken by something he did or said that he had no idea of. Peter didn’t know he made you ache so much, how many times he’s sent you home to cry. How many times you wanted to share with him but held back, how many times you wanted to reach out and hold him but were terrified he’d push you away. 

Terrified to tell him you were in love with him. 

‘I think that’s been the hardest lesson to learn, it’s impossible to love someone who doesn’t allow themselves to believe in it. It’s made me curl inwards, to crave his touch, validation, care, love. To crave what he cannot and will not give.

But don’t tell him I’m sad again, it’s not what he’s made for.’

Peter feels sick, his stomach is in knots, his palms are clammy and fuck, is he crying? 

A teardrop on the page tells him yes. 

It is what he’s made for, he wants to know everything that makes you tick, everything that makes you sad, or the things that hurt you. He wants you to reach for him anytime you want, he wants you to share everything on your mind with him, he wants so much more than what you think he wants. 

But it’s his fault you feel like that. 

Peter’s broken your character, and you still fell in love. No matter what he’s done to you, you keep pushing through the bullshit. That’s why he loves you too, but fuck that’s just scary to think about, he doesn’t know how he could ever get the words out. 

Wiping down his face and shaking his shoulders he puts the paper away. Sniffling as his phone rings, it’s lit up with your face, it brings a whole new wave of tears to blink back. Tilting his head to the ceiling he picks up, “hi, trouble. Missing me already?” 

“I just woke back up, I thought you said you’d be back at nine.” 

A sniff, “class ran late, I’m uh,” he clears his throat, moving around to grab your backpack. “Actually grabbing your stuff as we speak.” 

“You’re so good to me,” a pang hits his chest, because he’s really not. “If you say so, need anything else before I leave?” 

You hum over the line, you’re too kind, too patient, too forgiving. Why did he have to read the fucking prompt?

“Just you, handsome.” 

Peter shuts the door behind him and feels heavy, all he wants to do is make you feel as loved as you make him feel. 

“Want me to get you anything? Coffee, a redbull, or breakfast? I’ll splurge on anything you want, trouble.” 

Your giggle makes him feel warm, “how about you come back for a cuddle and we can go out for lunch?” 

It makes him feel better at being a shit human, so he agrees, and wonders if you had to hold back an ‘I love you,’ at the end of the call. 

The second he gets home and opens his bedroom door you sit up from his pillow and open your arms wide, making grabby hands. “Kisses! I need kisses!” Peter carefully sets your bag down, biting back a smile, he slowly comes to your side and leans down to give you a chaste kiss. 

You wrap your hands around his neck and pull him to you, “I said plural, Mr. Parker.” He gives you several pecks before telling you to scooch over with his hands and settling in next to you. You curl into him for a moment, he’s comfortable but you’re wide awake, and much rather see his face. 

Sitting up, you hitch a leg over his waist and take mount, your hands resting on his chest. 

“Hi.” 

“Hello.” 

You look over his face and tilt your head, “how was class?” Peter blows a breath from his mouth, “boring and long, I kept thinking about a beautiful girl laid up in my bed.” All he can think about is how many times he’d made you frown, or cry, or hate yourself for liking him. 

Your eyes narrow, a shy smile taking place, “why are you looking at me like that?” 

Peter runs his hands up and down your thighs, he doesn’t know to say what he’s feeling, he doesn’t even know how he’s looking you in the eye right now. 

“I just really like you,” his truth sends you curling in half, tucking against his chest. You drag out the ‘o’ in your words, “stop,” rubbing up and down your back he laughs, “it’s true. I really, really like you.” 

You rub your nose into his chest, “what is up with you today? You’re acting weird.” You peek your head up and he gives you a faulty smile, “nothing, I was just thinking of you and how much I love talking to you and spending time with you.” 

For whatever reason you feel an odd pull at your stomach, it wasn’t a good one. It sounds like he’s making up for something, you feel like you can’t trust him right now. You try moving backwards but he stops you, “don’t run from me, i’m doing feelings right now. You love when I do feelings.” 

You shake your head, “you sound guilty for something.” Peter’s poker face stumbles, just for a second, but you see through him and know your gut feeling was right. “Oh god, what did you do? I swear to god if you fucked another girl in this-” 

Peter sits up, causing you to slip down his lap. “No! Stop thinking everything with me is about sex! I like you, I spend time with you, I cuddle with you, I tell you about my day, I tell you about my problems, I’ve never once kicked you out after sex or told you that’s all I care about. I’ve given you more than I’ve ever given anyone else, I mean, I was made for this. I was made for us.” 

His words, the last part, it all clicked and rang true. He was guilty, and he was making up for something, he read your story. You didn’t know what to do, or say, he read all your deepest thoughts, something that you held so close to your chest. The thing you made clear wasn’t for his eyes. 

He wasn’t who you thought he was, he broke your trust, and for what? It’s not like he’s admitting anything new, he knows you love him and he’s avoiding that with a ten foot pole. The balance is uneven, he knows everything there is to know about you and you know nothing about him. 

You shake your head slowly, disbelieving he’d read your secrets, especially after you told him not to. Tears pool in your eyes, blinking once and a tear falls down your cheek. 

Peter’s hand reaches out, “hey, c’mon trouble, no reason to cry. I’m sorry if I didn’t… what’d you say?” You can barely get the word out, you feel like all the air has been knocked from your lungs.

“No.” It’s a whisper, it’s all you can get out, you can’t say anything else; you can’t even look at him. 

“No?” Peter pulls at your waist, it’s like you’ve been brought back to life. You rip his hands away, scrambling backwards until you nearly fall off the bed. You feel sick when he has the audacity to look confused, while you’re staring at him in horror from the foot of the bed. 

“Are you okay, trouble?” 

You snap, “don’t!” You gasp for air, “don’t call me that.” Standing you back away from him, scared to turn your back in case he tries to block the door. Peter’s slow with his movements, raising his hands in surrender when he stands with you. 

“Trouble, let me just-” 

You take a step back when he takes a step forward, “don’t call me that, you don’t get to call me that anymore. You don’t get to call me anything anymore, Parker.” 

Peter’s shoulders drop, “hey, c’mon, don’t be like that with me.” He takes a small step forward, your back hits the wall, you see your backpack on the ground and pick it up, holding it in front of you for a buffer if he dares come closer. 

“Curiosity kills the cat.” 

Your back slides against the wall until you find his door. You know, he knows, you know, at that moment. It’s all over his face, but you don’t want to hear it, you don’t want to hear him, you can’t believe you’ve got enough adrenaline to look him in the eye. 

Opening the door behind your back you speak before he can try to get you to stay, your knees feel like they’re trembling.

“And this is dead. I hope it was worth it.” 

The second you stepped through the doorway he called out, “trou- fuck,” then shouted your name when you stumbled down the steps, your heart raced when he followed you down, terrified he’d trap you in until you folded. 

“Okay, you’re pissed, and that’s fair! But if we could just-” he pauses, pushing the front door shut from above your head, you pull at the handle but he had too much force keeping you in. “- talk about this, and, and, and, if you could see it from my side maybe-” 

You can’t listen to him, you need to leave, you can’t breathe, you feel like a caged animal. He’s too close, too loud, he’s holding you hostage. You feel hot, a primal urge to scream and protect yourself running rampant. 

You tug at the door so hard his hand jumps, when he pushes in further, and talks louder you lose all focus and control. 

Spinning to look in his face, tears and all you scream, catching the attention of everyone on the first floor. 

“You’re scaring me!” 

You gasp, you can’t breathe, it feels like you’re fighting for air. Peter’s pushed away from you, you’re not sure by who yet, but they tuck you under their arm and open the door. It’s bright, and it makes you squeeze your eyes shut, but you’re able to get a gulp of air. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you home. You’re okay, I got you.” 

Ethan. Of course it’s Ethan. It’s comforting, you can’t take another step, you collapse in his hold and sob. No words are needed, he holds you and pets your back while you cry. When you felt like you couldn’t cry anymore you pulled away with a sniffle and apologized for ruining his shirt. 

“It’s a stupid shirt, wanna go home now?” 

You nod and sniffle every so often until you get to your room and send Ethan away with another hug and a promise you’d be okay. 

The second you get inside you hightail it to your desk, fishing for the story to shred it. You wanted no reminder of it, you never wanted to see or read it again. You never wanted anyone else to see or read it again. 

You felt numb the second it was over, the only thing on your mind was crawling into bed and never leaving again. The thought of seeing Peter on campus made you sick, maybe tomorrow you’ll look into a semester abroad. 

You thought you cried it all out, but there’s a new wave and it’s more ferocious than the last. 

—-------------

If your roommate set you up for this, you’ll kill her. 

‘you doin anything today?’ 

‘nope, why?’ 

‘forgot to take my keys, hoping you’ll be around to open the door for meeee.’ 

‘i’ll be waiting.’ 

And you did just that, it had been three days since you last saw or spoke to Peter and it was slowly getting easier. But when you see something of his, or something he gave you it sends a spike through your heart. 

The knocking on your door filled the empty air, it’s been hours of silence. You lug yourself up and open the door, not even bothering to look before spinning back for your bed and dive bombing. 

“Welcome back. And, before you ask me, yes, I want to die. Glad to catch you up.” You answered every question she would have in one go, you wanted to wallow in silence. Nuzzling in deeper to the sheets, you waited for a response. She didn’t give one. She must know you need alone time, maybe she’d make herself scarce for the night. 

You groan when your phone dings, “I swear to fucking god, Ally, if this is him again I will actually change my number. ‘But what if he’s super sorry!’” you mimicked her words from earlier, “don’t care! He should’ve thought about that before he…” 

Who the fuck did you just let in. 

Because, Ally just sent a text saying she was sleeping at her boyfriend’s. 

You fly up from your sheets, a sheepish Peter Parker rubbing at the back of his neck waved at you. 

“Oh, that’s sick. You are so sick, get the fuck out of my room.” 

He looks like shit, his clothes are wrinkled, he’s got bags under his eyes, his hair’s undone and greasy and he’s got a spreading bruise on his jawline. You have to swallow down your worry, it’s not your problem anymore. 

“Trouble, can we please-” 

“I told you not to call me that anymore.” 

Peter sighs, he rubs at his eyes and looks tired. Clearing his throat, he starts again with your name, “can we please talk, please?” You shake your head and cross your arms, “no, I can’t trust you anymore. Everything you say could be a lie.” 

“Stop. I did a shitty thing, I invaded your privacy and I fucked up. I know I did, I can eat that. I took every bit of trust you had in me, in us, and violated it. I know what I did and I knew how heartbroken you would be, and I own that. But you can’t act like this is who I am, or who I’ve always been.”

“Maybe not, or maybe it’s the person you are now.” 

Peter shakes his head, “it’s not, you know it’s not. But, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” He shifted his weight against your dresser, “when you said I scared you.. I.. fuck, I don’t know. It killed me, like, drained me to nothing. I never, ever wanted to scare you.” 

It makes you a little happy to know you made him feel just as bad, but that’s only because of his actions. 

“You hurt your own feelings, Peter. I’m not sorry for shit, you terrified me and broke me in one go. You finally accomplished what you were scared of, you fucked this up.” 

He feels hopeless, “so there’s nothing I can do to fix it, or save us?” 

You shrug, “not really. You created a power imbalance, you know all my feelings about you, including the massive one you’re pretending doesn’t exist-” 

Peter looks up, “what, that you love me? I’m not avoiding that, trouble, that’s all I’ve been thinking about, that’s why it’s so important I fix this.” He’d tell you he loves you too but he doesn’t want you to think it’s his easy way out, when he tells you, he wants you to believe it. 

He shouldn’t have done it, and not that it matters, but you’ve been craving to know. 

“Why did you read it?” 

Peter sucks in a breath, “I didn’t plan on it, I came across it when I was looking for your vocab notes. And I knew I should’ve put it down but I read the prompt and remembered you told me I’d be hurt by it, and I couldn’t stop myself.” 

You nod absentmindedly, “I’m not trying to excuse it, but recently it felt like you pulled away from me. And I wondered if it was something I was doing, and yeah, it was.” 

Does he not understand anything? You pull at your blanket, “and you didn’t ask me? I would’ve been honest, not about the love part, but about feeling like you don’t want me around sometimes.” 

“I know what I should’ve done, but it’s not what I did. And I have to own up to that.” 

He hurt you. He hurt you and broke you in more ways than one and you don’t know how you can go back. 

“It’s unfair, you know too much and I don’t know enough. It doesn’t work.” 

Peter’s quick, “anything you want, I mean it. I’ll answer anything or do anything to keep you, keep us.” 

There’s only one thing you can think of that could balance the scale, and he’d never go for it. 

“I wanna meet your aunt.” 

Peter shakes his head like he couldn’t hear you, “huh?” You nod your head, confident in your decision. If he wants it to go back to how it was, that’s what you needed in return. You needed him to take you home, meet his aunt and have you sleep in his childhood bedroom. He needed to make it clear, to the number one person in his life, how much you meant to him. 

“I want to meet your aunt,” you paused between each word, making sure he knew exactly what you wanted, loud and clear. He chewed on his bottom lip, you tell he’s bouncing it around in his head. 

“If you want to fix things, if you want everything to go back to normal, that’s what I want. I want you to take me home for a weekend to meet your aunt.” 

Peter coughed, “a weekend, not a dinner or brunch?” 

You grin, “we can do both of those things during a weekend visit.” Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded, “when do you want to do this?” 

You play nonchalant, “oh, whenever. I’m free on the weekends, you have a frat to run and oh, I’m sure you have to tell May who I am first.” 

“May knows who you are.” 

Peter pushed away from your dresser and took a harsh inhale, “if you’re serious about this, we can go next weekend, I’ll call her and set it up.” 

Too easy, you don’t trust it. 

“Really, that easy, you’re agreeing just like that?” 

“You set your price, and I’m paying. Unless there’s something cheaper?” 

He has a whole lot to make up for, and that’s just the start. But that would speak a whole lot, it’s a giant step forward, one he couldn’t take back no matter what. If he lets you meet his aunt that means he might love you too. 

You kiss your teeth, “I think a few days made you find out just how priceless I am.” 

Relatable, especially late night writing after cocktails.

As someone who has pet sat/house sat, and yes, plant sat; this strikes a chord for sure.

"You just woke up one day and decided to do that?" ---That comment of Peter's was my expression at a work colleague's home. Multiple cats and a plethora of plants. You know what cats do when they get bored and sense that their human is away and the visitor who doesn't smell quite right (i.e. not their human) comes after work every day to feed, water, and bond? They have fun redistributing plant material around the house. Fortunately everyone survived, but you captured the nervousness of the scenario quite well. I grow stuff outside but my interior is pretty dark so not so many houseplants.

Well done!

Hey- can I get a Peter Parker helping his girlfriend with her house plants and such? (Like finding and researching good fertilizer and pruning her plants?) and a chaotic Miles Morales?

Ahhh, this is my first request!

Summary: Peter watches your plants while you're away. He thinks they're all dying so he enlists Miles to help. It goes as well as you expect.

Also this is very self-indulgent as I want to have all the plants in my house

Peter Parker liked to consider himself a man of science. It wasn’t just his strong suit, approaching things-events, problems, etc.- scientifically just made sense to him.

It was why he did so well in chemistry in college. Botany, however, was a different story. One that he never tried to read. When it came to biology, he was more curious about the living organisms, given the whole Spider-Man situation. Plants on the other hand, weren’t of great interest to him.

So when you said you liked plants, he thought that meant you had maybe two or three at max.

He was wrong. So wrong.

Peter didn’t even know that many types of house plants existed until he walked into your apartment. It wasn’t just a few here and there. You had multiple plants hanging from your windows-in addition to the ones that were sitting by the windowsills, three plants in the bathroom (not including the eucalyptus in your shower), one plant stand devoted entirely to plants, and then a bookshelf and a half that had more plants than books. You had even found a way to mount several plants to your wall.

“You just woke up one day and decided to do that?” He asked.

You shook your head, “No. I saw it on Tik Tok, got permission from my landlord, and then decided to do it.”

He loved your passion. He loved listening to you describe your various plants, how each one was different, required different care. Seeing you hold up a plant, your face beaming with pride because you thought your Jade plant was truly done for once it began to drop leaves but then you were able to nurse it back to health, was the cutest thing in the world to him. He could listen to you for hours.

Of course, being the good boyfriend that he is, he was determined to be able to not just understand what you were saying, but also help you. His super strength came in handy when you had to move your larger, tropical plants to your shower for their bath day (as you called it) since ‘it makes them feel like they’re in a rainforest, also it gets rid of the dust’. It also helped whenever you had to go to the store to get multiple bags of fertilizer.

He got you a big whiteboard calendar so you could keep track of what plants needed water on what days.

“This way you won’t have sixty different alarms on your phone,” he said with a smile. You knew some of it was teasing, but it was mostly love-love for you.

So, when you had to go out of town for a week, Peter knew it was his time to shine. Time to show you that was he competent and could take care of your plants.

Miles and Aunt May teased him about it, reminding him that he wasn’t watching a pet or small child. He knew that. But he also knew that if he could show you that he could successfully take care of your plants on his own, maybe-hopefully- that would show you that he could take care of a small animal or maybe even a child with you in the future.

At his request-because he refuses to mess this up-you wrote out the schedule of the maintenance your plants required for him before you left.

“You’ll do just fine. I wouldn’t have left you in charge if I had any doubts,” You assured him before kissing Peter ‘goodbye’ for what seemed like the twentieth time.

“I just want to make sure,” He said, giving you that sweet, lovesick look he always had when he saw you.

“I trust you babe. You’re going to do great.”

Peter didn’t want to let you down.

So when your Lady Palm plant began to show some browning on the tips of several leaves, Peter took a deep breath and stayed calm. He knew this was a natural occurrence and from countless research, as well as staring at you while you did it (because you were so pretty, how could he not?), he knew what to do. A few snips here and there and your plant was good as new. Crisis adverted.

Right?

It’s like your Jade plant saw Peter, all proud that he had solved a plant problem and knew. She knew that she had to spite him, had to raise his heartbeat somehow. Which was why he freaked out when he saw that it was dropping leaves again. She (as you had told him repeatedly) wasn’t supposed to do that. At all. She was one of your favorite plants and the last thing Peter wanted to do was show you a dead version of Jade when you came home.

The bad plant luck didn’t stop there. While watering, Peter noticed that the roots on your fiddle leaf fig plant were showing. That was the plant your sister-in-law got you for your birthday. It was also the plant you were so worried about until Peter (after hours of research) told you that you were supposed to prune it so it could go and he was so proud so he couldn’t have this plant die either.

And then your favorite succulent decided to bloom a flower. Before dating you, Peter thought that was a good sign. After your many frantic “No Peter. That’s not good for a succulent. Did you ever see a cactus with a flower on it in a cartoon depiction of the desert? There’s a reason for that!”, he learned that was bad news bears.

Which was why he got Miles involved. He didn’t want to leave your plants alone, for fear that if he left, they would all somehow die at the exact same time. Because that’s how his current luck was going.

“You got the specific fertilizer, right?” Peter asked as soon as he opened the door.

“Yes, I sent you like five pictures confirming, remember?” Miles said, holding up

“And you got the hedge trimmer?” Peter asked as he walked over to the kitchen counter, which currently had plant problem #1 on it.

“Yes, May says hi by the way. And that you’re overthinking, though ‘it is sweet’. Her words, not mine,” Miles put down the fertilized and took in the scene on the kitchen counter, “Are we saving a plant or doing a surgery?”

Peter knew that May was probably right. Did he need to put a towel underneath the succulent, and have an overhead light shining over top of it? No, but it made him feel like he was back in a lab, which put him more at ease. It also helped him not imagine you coming home to your plants dying. Because who would want to stay with someone who can’t take care of some plants?

“I did my research. It is possible to cut off the flower from the succulent-“

“So we are performing a surgery. Think I can add this to my college application?”

“But,” Peter ignored Miles’ quips, “We have to be extremely careful. We can’t just rip it off, otherwise we could destroy the cells nearby it and,” He paused, “Potentially kill it.”

“Have you considered waiting until y/n-the actual plant expert- gets back?” Miles offered.

“And what? Tell them, ‘Hey despite you showing me how to do everything, I still killed all your favorite plants?’” Miles should have known by now- if Peter was stressed and it was related to you, rationale suggestions usually went over his head.

“Alright so….are we going to like, guillotine this plant or are we doing an old-fashion beheading?”

“Using your gloves, you’re going to hold the plant while I try to clip off only the flower,” The last thing Peter wanted was for you to come home and find your favorite cactus cut in half.

“I thought you said only to use the gloves for Spidey things-“

“Oh please, like you don’t use it for other stuff,” Peter snapped back. Miles shrugged, realizing his mentor was a) totally right and b) it was better to just go along with him at this point.

Miles pulled out the gloves and put them on. This way the spikes couldn’t hurt him (nor would it stick to him). Peter took a deep breath and leaned down, getting as close to the root of the flower as he could without cutting off any part of the actual plant.

Miles stared intently at Peter, holding his breath. Finally, he couldn’t help it, “So after this-“

Peter stopped and looked up, “Are you really asking me this now?”

“I’m afraid I’ll forget.”

“Miles.”

“There’s a new pho place I want to try!”

Peter sighed, regretting this decision, “If I tell you we go, will you stop talking for the rest of this procedure?” Miles nodded his head.

Despite having battled countless of villains, Peter counted this as one of the highest-stress moments of his life. He just didn’t want to disappoint you or worse, make you sad.

After several minutes of silence, Peter let out a huge sigh of relief once the flower was cut off. The damage to your cactus was minimal and hardly noticeable which was exactly what he wanted.

“You know, for a moment I was really worried that he wasn’t going to make it,” Miles deadpanned. As much as he enjoyed spending time with Peter, he couldn’t help but call out the guy when he was being ridiculous. Even if it was for love.

“Alright, now we just need to repot the Jade plant since it’s not getting proper drainage,” Peter said, getting out the new planter that he may or may not have Door-Dashed (who knew Home Depot was now one of their clients).

“Alright, where’s the next patient?” Miles asked. Peter motioned over to the plant that was on your coffee table.

“I’ll get it-“ Miles said, reaching his arm out.

“Miles wait-“

Before he could finish his sentence, a web shot out from one of Miles’ shooters. He flicked his wrist back, but then it became obvious immediately that the kid wasn’t expecting the plant to be that heavy. Miles and Peter ducked so neither one would get hit with the plant. Instead, it went straight into the kitchen wall.

“It’s heavier than it looks,” Peter whispered, finishing his sentence.

“I….I can clean that up,” Miles said, walking over to the plant that was now lying on your kitchen floor, dirt and bits of clay splayed around it.

“Forget cleaning it, the plant is out of a pot!!” It took everything in Peter not to yell.

“You can always replace it,” Miles offered, inching away from Peter slowly.

“I can’t replace her plant! She’s going to notice right away!” Peter said, running a hand through his hair, trying not to strangle his mentee.

“I mean, what is it they always say? You’re gone for a week, you come back, and your plant looks like they had a growth spurt?”

Peter sighed deeply, “Children, Miles. They say that about children. Not plants.”

“Oh.”

“Alright, if we move quick, I think we can repot it,” Peter gently picked up the plant and held it out to Miles, “Hold it like it’s a newborn puppy.”

Miles nodded while Peter moved quickly to fill up the new pot with fertilizer. Pho was definitely out of the question now.

--The next day—

As soon as you saw Peter in your apartment, you hugged him. You couldn’t help it, the suitcase you had thrown to the ground could always be picked up later. He wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“I missed you,” You said into the crook of his neck.

“I missed you too baby,” He whispered, kissing your forehead. You broke away to kiss him on the lips, something you were surprised you hadn’t done that.

“How did plant watching go?” You asked with a smile.

“Oh it was good. We all had a fun time,” He said. While it was subtle, you could detect the nervousness in his voice.

“Awesome. Let’s see how they’re doing,” You broke away from him to walk over to your windowsill.

“Hey babe, do you want to get some pho? Miles showed me this great new place-“

“Maybe later. Why isn’t it on the windowsill Peter?” You asked.

“Oh, I….I thought she wanted….wanted to visit a new place! I moved her, she just wanted a change of scenery, you know?”

“Has anyone told you, you’re a terrible liar?” You remarked. It was obvious Peter was nervous about something, given how much he was stuttering and stumbling over his words. You couldn’t help but smile a little, as it reminded you of the time he tried asking you out. You eventually had to interrupt him and ask if he wanted to go on a date because a) you felt bad and b) he was so cute that it made you crush on him even harder.

“I’m not lying! She was looking bored, like she wanted a change of pace.”

“Alright, then where is she?” You said as you walked over to the kitchen counter. You paused and looked closer at the floor.

“Why is there fertilizer on the floor?”

Peter realized the gig was up, “Promise you won’t get mad?”

“Peter,” You wrapped your arms around his neck, “What happened?”

“I….may have thought all your plants were dying and asked Miles to help me.” You couldn’t help but chuckle, imagining the numerous scenarios that could have led to there being fertilized on your floor.

“Where’s Jade?”

“I put her on the bookshelf. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” You walked over to the bookshelf, taking a close look at your plant.

“Peter….she’s fine.”

“Really? I thought she was a goner.”

“Actually? She looks better than before I left. Her leaves were dropping, and I meant to repot her before I left. But it looks like you already did that?” Peter nodded, “And it led to Miles getting fertilizer in the kitchen?”

“So I didn’t kill your favorite plant?” You shook your head as you grabbed his hands, pulling him into you.

“No Peter, you didn’t. But next time, please call me if you have a question before involving Miles, okay?”

“Deal,” He grinned as he leaned in to kiss you, happy that he was able to prove that in addition to being Spider-Man, he also made a great plant-sitter and boyfriend.

now that i’m older and understand how absolutely fucked the housing market is, all those horror movies that take place in nice houses where the family refuses to leave make sense. if i had a 4,000sqft vintage home you’d need to kill me before i ever moved out as well. fuck the ghost. charge it rent.