Chapter Text
“Okay, okay, deep breath, Parker… just… focus on not passing out because you are currently the rope in the world’s hottest tug-of-war.”
Peter Parker, the quippy wall-crawler who’s faced gods, aliens, symbiotes, and clones… was now reduced to a literal puddle of flustered, blushing goo the moment Johnny and Lie decided he’s the prize in their playful little tug-of-war.
His brain was short-cutting on itself.
“Okay. Okay, I’ve fought Galactus. I’ve been punched through a building. I’ve taken on six villains at once. And yet—one smirk from the second coming of Apollo and one half-lidded stare from Mr. Wuxia-Novelist-Come-to-Life and suddenly my knees don’t work. I’m melting. I’m MELTING. Call me the Wicked Witch of Queens.”
Peter was smooshed between Johnny and Lie, face redder than his costume. Lie’s amused chuckle sent shivers down his spine as the Iron Fist gently smooshed his cheeks with one single…. unfairly… large hand.
“Okay, okay, deep breaths, Parker. You’ve been punched through walls, buried alive, and fought alien symbiotes… but THIS? This is new. My Spider-Sense is going off and—wait, why does it sound like a slot machine jackpot instead of a warning siren?!”
Peter’s eyes dart left to the blond, then right to the dark-haired one, then back to the blond.
The best description Peter had of his Spider-Sense would normally be “WEE-OOH WEE-OOH, incoming fist to the face, Parker!!”. But right now, it sounded more like: DING! DING! DING! JACKPOT!
Peter’s thoughts speed up as the two leaned closer.
“Oh no. Oh no no no. This isn’t danger! This is— Alright, think, Pete: Mary Jane cheated on you with Paul… Felicia’s probably ghosting you again… and Gwen, well… yeah, that’s a whole multiversal therapy bill. But THESE TWO BAD BITCHES? Oh my god. They’re both gorgeous. They both smell like really expensive cologne and hero sweat. Focus, man, FOCUS.”
Peter squished even closer, and suddenly, like something out of a cartoon, the metaphoric lightbulb clinked on above his head.
“…Wait. Hold on. This isn’t bad luck. This is—dare I say it—good luck?!”
Peter, although still blushing, has realization dawning in neon clarity.
“Parker Luck may ruin my rent, my reputation, and my social life… but when it comes to the babes? It never misses. Never. MISSES.”
MJ broke his heart, Parker Luck shattered the rest, but for once— the universe seems to be like: “Here, kid. Have two ridiculously handsome heroes doting on you. You’ve earned this one.”
“Of course. Of course the Parker Luck lands me smack between a blond Adonis who looks like he was sculpted by Zeus himself and a dark-haired demigod straight out of an Wuxian drama. And me? I’m the awkward Queens nerd who still trips over his own web fluid. How is this my life?!”
His Spider-Sense went off again. DING DING DING! JACKPOT!
“…So THIS is what winning feels like. And it’s terrifying.”
Spider-Sense went DING! DING! DING! again. If it were an actual slot machine, Peter was sure the slots would show 💋💋💋 instead of 777.
“The Parker Luck strikes again… and for once, it’s merciful.”
“Pete?” Lie asked breathily, tilting his still-smooshed and flustered face slightly to the left, “You okay there, man?”
“Wow, look at him!” Johnny cackled, “I didn’t even knew that shade of red existed!”
“Oh God. Oh GOD. Nope nope nope—this is illegal. There’s no defense for this. I’m Spider-Man, not… whatever puddle-creature I’m currently becoming. Why are they saying I’m irresistible? I’m not irresistible. I’m awkward. I make bad jokes. My hair sticks up funny under the mask. I trip over my own webs. …But their voices are so close, so warm. Their breath is literally in my ears. I can feel my knees dissolving. I’m melting. I’m—”
Peter gulped, trying to make a joke to cover it up. “Hahaha— Don’t mind me, guys! Just liquefying over here. Totally normal. Happens all the time. Yep. Queens thing.”
“This isn’t fair. This isn’t RIGHT. I’m supposed to be drowning in misery, not melting because Mr. Blond Apollo and Mr. Wuxian God of Dreams both decided I was snack of the day. How am I supposed to survive this?! My Parker Luck didn’t abandon me—it just evolved into some kinky new torture device.”
DING DING DING!!
“…I’m literally being tortured by hotness. And the worst part? I think I like it.”
Honestly, Peter doesn’t know if he even deserves to be kissed breathless until his Spider-Sense can’t tell the difference between danger and romance anymore.
“Maybe healing doesn’t mean forgetting MJ… maybe it means letting myself be wanted again.”
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Peter Parker’s love life has always been built on imbalance. With MJ and Gwen, they craved normalcy, and Peter can’t ever give them that. His hero duty will always tear things apart.
With Felicia, she’s glamorous and exciting, but she doesn’t share his moral backbone—she loves the thrill of Spider-Man, not the man behind the mask.
That’s where the tragedy of his romances comes from. They either don’t get his responsibility, or they don’t share it.
But other heroes? Other men who carry the same weight of responsibility, the same late nights, the same bruises and scars? They get it. They wouldn’t be frustrated with Spider-Man disappearing at 3AM—they’d be right there on the rooftop with him.
It’s not just about attraction, it’s about shared purpose. Peter doesn’t need another thrill-seeker or another person begging him to be “normal.” He needs someone who smells like gunpowder and sweat after pulling three people from a burning building, who understands the exhaustion but still cracks a smile anyway.
Someone who knows the hero grind.
And the funny thing? The Parker Luck already gives him access to those guys. The Fantastic Four, the X-Men, the Avengers—Peter’s practically swimming in hero bros who understand his life better than MJ or Felicia ever could.
So yeah… Peter deserves not just a guy, but a hero guy.
“Peter Parker: destined to suffer. Sometimes at the hands of madmen, sometimes at the cruel whim of fate… and sometimes by being stuck between two unbearably hot men who won’t stop flirting with him.”
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