There’s a silent squeaking of shoes against the polished floor which is already difficult to avoid on a normal day let alone one where New York’s been plagued with heavy rain. While it’s annoying to the ears, the group votes to ignore the sound in favor of making quick work of their robbery.
Four men wheel off barrels filled with chemicals down to their truck which is parked on the lowest level. At least four of their buddies’ act as lookouts, although, the group has already tied up three security guards who have since been forced to sit in the corner of the parking garage, their mouths gagged with duct tape.
The leader of the group is a tall gruff man with a belt of bottles attached to his hip. He must be feeling pretty confident with their work because he’s been sitting at one of the lab tables for about eleven minutes now, playfully mixing different chemicals and metals while his colleagues do all the heavy lifting. It almost makes Spiderman smirk under his mask, watching the show from his perch in the corner of the ceiling.
“I wouldn’t mix those two chemicals if I were you,” the men jump when Spiderman finally speaks after noticing the leader pick up two bottles, one with a clear liquid inside and other with chuckles of silver metal,“ that’s dilute sulfuric acid and sodium metal. One’s a reducing agent oxidized to sodium ion while the other’s an oxidizing agent that reduces hydrogen ions to hydrogen gas. Mix them together and the sodium will melt to the surface with an explosion to follow which, honestly, isn’t going to feel too good if you’re within range-ACK!”
He doesn’t get to finish his knowledgeable chemistry explanation before being forced to jump off the ceiling when the four men draw their guns, firing rapidly at the hero who effortlessly dodges their attempts.
“Not fans of chemistry I take it? Then what’s with all the chemicals you’re stealing? Helping your kids with a science fair project?” Rolling upon his landing, he swiftly webs two of the men’s hands and guns to the wall then shots a web directly in the face of another. While the man fruitless attempts to pull the sticky substance off, he’s suddenly roundhouse kicked into the counter which causes several beakers to crash on the floor. The last man lunges forward, swinging a fist at the back of the hero’s head, only for said fist to be caught midair. Within seconds, the man is flipped onto his back and webbed to the ground by his arms.
With the four goons taken care of, Spiderman finds himself facing the leader alone,“ come on man, you should really put those bottles down. You’re not even wearing goggles and that’s, like, the one rule science teachers care about.”
“Gladly,” the leader growls, throwing the bottle of acid towards Spiderman who jumps onto the ceiling light, quickly leaping to a further end of the room when the bottle of sodium metal is thrown soon afterwards. There’s only about three seconds in between the sound of breaking glass and a loud ‘pop’ that sends sparks of acid across the room, some of which hits one of the criminals who had been lying next to the counter.
The leader shows no concern over his subordinate’s screams of agony, merely flashing a toothy grin when stepping forward and selecting two bottles from his belt,“ you’re not the only one who knows your chemicals, Spidy-boy.”
He tosses the bottles towards the hero, resulting in sparks flying. Spiderman uses the hanging lights to swing himself around the room, dodging each explosion which will no doubt leave burn marks and fire damage all over the once polished floors. The biggest explosion occurs when the man grabs three bottles of a dark metal, a clear liquid, and a white powder. When he throws them under his target, they ignite, creating an awfully loud 'bang’ that shakes the walls and shatters the lab’s main window.
“Okay, first of all, it’s Spiderman,and secondly, throwing chemicals around like a toddler doesn’t mean you 'know chemicals’, only that you don’t know proper lab safety. Let’s review the basics, shall we?” He lodges himself at the leader, landing a punch to his face. Wobbling backwards from the force, the man drops a few bottles, some of the clear liquid splashing against his legs in the process,“ avoid skin and eye contact with all chemicals.”
He shouts in pain, but is cut off when Spiderman grabs the fire extinguisher kept on the side of the lab table, spraying the white foam to cover the man’s vision quicker than he can react,“ always know the location of fire extinguishers-”
Finally, using a web as support on the ceiling, Spiderman swings and kicks the man’s chest, sending him flying back into a small glass room mere few away. With another web, he makes sure to glue the dazed criminal in place before very casually walking over to pull the hanging handle which causes water to begin pouring from the sprout above, drenching the man,“-and the laboratory showers.”
“You fuc-” The man goes to growl but is shut up with a web to the mouth.
“No cursing either,” Spiderman smirks, leaning on his elbow against the wall beside the shower station,“ that’s not actually a lab rule, just a personal one. Can’t be a friendly neighborhood Spiderman while having a sailor’s mouth, y’know?”
He looks away, listening to the sound of growing sirens rather than the leader’s muffled shouts. Waltzing over to the broken window, Spiderman gazes down to see the street’s already lighting with blue and red, an army of police officers rushing in through the front doors.
“Well gentlemen, I’d love to stick around and continue educating you on proper lab safety, but I’m already late for dinner. Maybe we’ll get a chance to pick up where we left off once you’re, y’know, out of jail for burglary and destruction of property charges,” sending a halfhearted salute towards the group of criminals, Spiderman takes his leave through the window, swinging off with a proud yet tired smile hidden under his mask.
Eight hours; that’s how long he’d been patrolling the streets before noticing the shine of flashlights inside Oscorp. Eight hours on top of a nearly six-hour school day is exhausting even with superhuman endurance, but luckily for Peter, tomorrow is Saturday meaning he can actually sleep in for as long as he wants for once. In such a tired state, he could easily get lost in daydreams about a microwaved dinner and his soft bed, but the ideas are dismissed when an all too familiar feeling pierces through his senses.
The world seems to slow around him, his anxiety beating against his chest while his eyes dart around wildly to the tops of the buildings surrounding him. He can hear droplets of rain hitting concrete, splashing into even smaller particles which add to the thin layers of water covering New York. There’s also the sound of voices below, most people cursing the weather while some run after taxis in which stir up calm rain puddles and break the gentle atmosphere with their annoyed honking. Then he hears the whirling of metal-
-Suddenly maneuvering his body to the right, he uses a web to pull himself downward off course and away from the blade that shines with his reflect like a mirror mere centimeters above his head. Shooting another web, he makes a sharp turn at the corner, looking back in terror at his attacker who hangs off the side of a building, watching him through silver goggles, however, he doesn’t get much more time to take in their appearance. In seconds, a wire is sent flying past him, hooking onto another building which allows them to lunge forward at a blurring speed, their blade already pulled back and ready to swing.
Peter moves to dodge their next attack, but can do nothing when they predict his counter, somehow switching the direction of their swing faster than even his Spider sense can keep up. He hisses in pain from the feeling of metal being dragged across his stomach, cutting deeper than any other weapon has before. They look ready to swing again when he shots a web behind himself, heading backwards then around a few more buildings in a poor attempt of losing the attacker.
With one hand clenching the wound, Peter doesn’t dare look down at the damage, knowing by the way his face feels stuck in a scrunched-up expression of pain that it’s bad. His mind races with other thoughts, having never seen this person before nor has he heard of any villain who uses a type of grappling hook system somewhat similar to his webs-
-He feels his heart skip another beat when remembering the conversation he had overheard earlier this week between the newspaper club kids, more important, what he had heard Josh say. The Night Ripper, an infamous assassin armed with a blade made of vibranium…Could this be them?
Looking back, Peter sees no one on his trail and, for a moment, he feels relieved to think he might’ve succeeded in losing them, however, he should’ve been smarter than to trust such a notion.
Right as he comes around the next building, he spots the blur returning in the corner of his eyes, but this time, he puts his bloody hand up, desperately shooting a web into their face which throws them off guard. Despite jerking their head back in surprise, they still swing their sword blindly, cutting the web Spiderman hangs onto which sends him tumbling down towards the street while they land upon the nearest rooftop.
With irritation, the Ripper attempts to tug off the sticky webbing from their goggles to no avail. Upon realizing the substance can’t be removed so easily, they push the goggles onto their forehead, revealing their narrowed (e/c) that hold a poisonous anger in them.
Meanwhile, Spiderman uses a single web to swing himself towards an ally, crashing against the ground, although, such pain’s nothing compared to the burning of his stomach which is becoming too much to handle.
Clenching his side, he looks down at his torn suit at last, his head feeling dizzy at the sight of blood oozing from the gaping wound across his midsection. Sure, he’s gained plenty of wounds that have require stitches before, but nothing like this. It hurts…
With teary eyes and a shaky hand, Peter lifts his mask up to breathe easier before slowly pushing himself to sit upright. He lets out a cry at the feeling of his gloved hand rubbing against the raw injury which is deeper than he originally considered. It hurts so damn bad…
There’s a quiet 'thud’ that meets his ears, making his heart leap. Ever so slowly, he raises his head to the top of the buildings surrounding the ally. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of the Night Ripper who stands in all their glory in the shine of moonlight, staring down at him with a drawn blade.
Peter’s lip quivers from both the pain and fear he feels when meets those dull (e/c) eyes that stare down at him harshly. He’s afraid to move under that look, his jaw clenching and body tensing in preparation to fight for his life in a way he’s never done before. Is this what all the Night Ripper’s victims felt like before their deaths? But Peter can’t die here! He doesn’t want to die!
Then, for some strange reason beyond Peter’s own belief or understanding, those (e/c) eyes that once held a storm of fury soften. Within a blink of his own eyes, theirs become human, showing an emotion he can’t quite put his finger on even if he tired.
As if that isn’t strange enough, in complete contrast to his expectations, the Ripper doesn’t leap down from their post to finish their job. Instead, they hesitate to take a step back, remaining still for a second longer before suddenly jumping down the other way with the sound of their grapples hitting the air soon afterwards. Where most people would be crying with relief at such a point, Peter is left frozen with confusion, his mind continuing to race maybe even more than it had before.
The Night Ripper is a perfect assassin…A one solider army who can and will eliminate anyone they’re told to without sparing a soul…so why did they just spare Spiderman?
The alarm refuses to understand how annoying it is, continuing to make Peter’s ears bleed until he finally throws in the towel first with a groan, his fist slamming down over the device with more pressure than it can take. The plastic shatters, sending tiny wires and pieces of chip across the bedstand which only draws another groan from the teen.
He’d continue to lie there curled in his cocoon of blankets all morning if not for that math exam he has during second period and Aunt May’s current calls from the other room,“ Peter, what are you doing?! You’re going to be late!”
Seeing that he no longer has a good o’ digital clock, he blindly slaps his hand across the bedstand before rolling onto his back with his cracked phone now in hand. From there, he tiredly blinks open his eyes just enough to see the glowing numbers on the screen, checking to see just how long he’s laid there after destroying his actual alarm clock.
“SHIT!” The covers of his bed are thrown into the air, drifting back down to the bed that’s he’s already leapt out of. Rushing around his mess of a room, he begins a desperate scavenger hunt for all the items that he requires for school. Textbooks, pencils, backpack, Spiderman mask, camera…He puts his hand on the doorknob before throwing his head back and spinning his heel. Shirt and pants! Can’t forget a shirt and pants; no one wants to see his boxers in first period Spanish!
“PETER!”
“I’M COMIN’, AUNT MAY!” He stumbles around, using one hand to help guild on his pants while the other stuffs school supplies in his bag. Using a web, he grabs the first shirt he sees on the floor, giving it a single sniff to decide if it’s clean enough for the day. A little smelly, but it’ll fine.
Once running into the kitchen, he hastily sends an apology to May while selecting an apple from the fruit basket. She, of course, takes instant notice to his bedhead and the wrinkles in his clothing,“ did you just wake up? Peter, how late did you stay awake? I wear I heard you up at midnight!”
Peter stiffens at her questions which confirms that he had, as previously worried, been a little too loud crawling through the window last night. It’s not his fault he tripped over his skateboard in his tired state…okay, so maybe itis his fault for not cleaning his room, but he would’ve gotten home earlier if not for that gang of bank robbers leading him on a high-speed chase through Manhattan! …Not that May ever needs to know he was hanging off the back of an armored truck yesterday.
“Sorry if I woke you up, May. I, um…I was studying late for my math exam. Yeah, I’m super nervous for it so I should get to school right now before I’m late. I love you, see you later!” Not allowing her any more time to question or scold him further, he throws out each word at a speed she can barely understand while pressing a kiss to her cheek for good measure.
After that, he’s out the door, sprinting to school without any intention of slowing his stride thanks to his increased stamina. He effortlessly dodges each pedestrian that moves in front of his path, weaving through the crowded sidewalks of Queens while reviewing possible exam questions in his head and occasionally taking bites out of the apple he’d be heartbroken to drop.
Of course, while Peter may be incredibly smart and focused when desired, he can also hold the attention span of a fruit fly, therefore, it should be no surprise that his run slows to a jog then an amble when spotting a bustling newspaper stand in which overflows with familiar red and black papers.
Many purchasers remain hovering beside the stand, hands occupied by newspapers as they mumble gossip to themselves which hints to Peter that the headline must be an interesting one. He’s quickly proven correct when managing to push pass the inconsiderate readers and catch a glance at the bold white headline:
NEW YORK’S KILLER! SPIDER-MAN’S TURNING TO EXCESSIVE FORCE! CIVILIANS BEWARE!
Peter spares a careful glance at the people surrounding him with furrowed eyebrows. Excessive force? Alright, so last night he webbed three guys to a wall and left the other two hanging upside down from a streetlight, but that’s not excessive, is it? He didn’t even land a direct punch on any of them, and they were shooting at him! What’s Jameson want him to do; stand there and just get shot?!…Okay, so don’t answer that last question.
While it might not be the wisest move to reward the Daily Bugle for spreading rumors, curiosity gets the best of Peter, leading him to purchase a newspaper to examine himself during his continued his route to school. Despite the obvious challenge behind reading and trying not to run into people at the same time, he manages to unveil the company’s latest ridiculous allegation about him, one that make his blood boil.
Osin Yousaf, leader of the Selvaggi gang that Peter had stopped the previous night, had been found dead earlier this morning after the police had received some anonymous tip. Regardless of a complete lack of actual evidence left at the crime scene, the Daily Bugle claims that the nonexistent ‘evidence’ points towards Spiderman having killed Yousaf all because of the bank robbery earlier that night. The newspaper even tops the article off by giving a warning for civilians to be careful in case Spiderman begins using excessive force against them, too.
Of course, it’s all completely outlandish. While Peter’s had several run-ins with Yousaf and his crew, he hadn’t seen the gang leader since they split up last night, both flooring it in different directions which had forced Peter to pick only one group to pursue. Even if he had seen Yousaf, there’s no way he would’ve killed him because Spiderman doesn’t kill people. That’s his number one rule!
Unfortunately for Peter, the newspaper claims had only been the start to his bad day. From being marked tardy in Spanish to the realization that he’s forgotten his history homework, poor Parker’s mood has been thrown in the gutter by the time lunch break rolls around and that group of six or so students sitting exactly one table in front of him aren’t making things better.
Peter rolls his eyes the second he hears one girl bring up the Daily Bugle’s latest report, asking for her friends’ opinions on Spiderman becoming violent. While most of the teens seem to agree on how unsettling it is and worry the police won’t doing anything about it, there’s only one person who immediately shoots down the preposterous idea.
“You guys are kidding me, right? Spiderman did not kill that guy,” even Peter raises his head, his face covered with crumbs from the cold grilled cheese sandwich he’s been miserably eating, not that there’s another way to eat school lunch even on the best of days.
“And what makes you so sure?”
“I could ask you the same question. Did you not read the details of the body’s condition? The guy’s hand had been cut clean off and he had a single, yet perfect stab wound that went right through his spine and out the other end! There’s no way Spiderman’s capable of something like that! The guys a pacifist looser!” Alright, so that one hurt, but Peter bites his tongue, having learned a long time ago that the more he inserts himself in conversations about Spiderman, the more suspicious people grow.
“Then who else would’ve done it? Seems like too big of a consequence for the guy to be involved in a crime Spiderman stopped then end up dead all in the same night!” One girl argues, causing the boy, who shares at least two classes with Peter and is named Josh, to lean back in his chair with crossed arms.
“The Night Ripper,” he says it so casually, peeking Peter’s unnoticed interest.
“The Night Ripper’s just a legend-” The girl goes to roll her eyes, but Josh sits up straight, the chair legs hitting the ground which a 'clink’.
“-No, they’re real! I did a project on them for my web design class. They say the Night Ripper’s a perfect assassin hired by the world’s most elite criminals. Armed with a blade made of vibranium, they’re like a one soldier army, eliminating everyone and anyone they’re told to while never sparing a soul. Think about it! It would make total sense for the Ripper to kill that Yousaf guy especially if he was involved in something bigger than a simple bank robbery!” Josh is beaming at his own point, eagerly waiting for his friends to agree with praises of how clever he is. Alas, the table only breaks out in laughter.
“You and your damn stories, Josh. Where’d you do your research? Wikipedia?”
“Wikipedia has a surprising number of good sources. Teachers just tell you not to use it because they like to make our lives miserable!” He attempts to defended himself, his face growing red with embarrassment over his friends’ laughter,“ I’m telling you, there’s something big going on in New York and all these gang related crimes are related to it! So is the Night Ripper! They had to have been the one to kill that guy, not Spiderman!”
While his friends continue to wave off his claims, Peter can’t help but hang onto Josh’s theory, making a mental note of the name. 'Night Ripper’, huh? A spooky name, he guesses, but all villains these days have some type of weird gimmick.
If this 'Ripper’ person really does exist and is behind Yousaf’s death, then they must be some type of big shot like Josh said considering the body’s condition in which the Daily Bugle made a point of detailing as violent. While a lot of questions can be asked about the Night Ripper, there’s one in particular that tumbles around in Peter’s mind: if the Night Ripper is working for elite criminals and is somehow connected with the rising gang violence in New York, just how long will it take until they cross paths with Spiderman?
“Following a high-speed chase through lower Manhattan, five of the suspects were finally apprehended by none other than the masked hero, Spiderman. Law enforcement has taken the five into custody where they have been charged with robbery, assault with a deadly weapon, and attempted manslaughter with more charges still pending. The Chief of Police would like to remind the public that at least four other suspects are still on the run. If you have any information on the individuals seen in the provided surveillance videos, you are urged to call the following number-”
The horrid static of the old TV only ceases once it’s shut off midway through the reporter’s sentence, yet the man remains frozen in place with a same shameful bow of his head. His eyes are glued to the ground, his hands rubbing nervously against his pant leg as if trying to wipe off a stubborn stain of dirt. He isn’t brave enough to so much as glance at the woman who stands before him with crossed arms and a glare colder than liquid hydrogen.
She doesn’t say anything for a good minute or two since turning off the report which acts as an impressive intimidation method, one that dares the man to break the silence first in order to further fuel her anger. Even when he doesn’t make that mistake, she still moves on with business with a fuming shout.
“Do you realize how much shit you’ve put the organization in!” It isn’t meant as a question despite her used format,“ a police chase through Manhattan? You were supposed to be on a stealth mission! Get the money and disappear before anyone notices! You didn’t even try to be inconspicuous!”
“We tried to be subtle, ma'am, but then Spiderman showed up and one thing led to another. The alarms got tripped, Robbie and the others got webbed up, we…we went one way and the others got captured by Spiderman…there…there was nothing we could do,” the man’s voice grows quieter with each spoken word, his nerves slowly being ingested by the rageful look he receives. He should’ve known from the moment he opened his mouth that no excuse could be good enough to soften his current situation.
“Maybe I’m not an expert in the matter, but if it only takes one itsy bitsy spider to crush you, then I’d say you aren’t exactly cut out for this line of work, wouldn’t you agree?” The woman hisses, the man opening his mouth to further argue for his case, but he isn’t granted the pleasure,“ the boss is furious, I’ll have you know. This is the third job this month that you’ve messed up all because of that Spider.”
“I-I understand, ma'am, but I promise you, this was our last mistake! We will succeed for sure next time; I swear it on my life!” The man feels a small sense of relief when the woman turns on her heel away from him, but it’s short lived.
“Unfortunately, there won’t be a next time, Yousaf,” she says it causally while digging through her purse on the table, finally plucking out the phone she searched for. Her voice is now much calmer compared to what it had been just a few seconds prior,“…you see, Spiderman has become quite the nuisance as of lately and our boss is tired of having his toes stepped on, so he’s decided to take a new approach to the issue; a more appropriate measure for our desperate times.”
Yousaf shallows the lump in his throat, feeling that he might choke,“ has he…?”
A chill runs down his spine when a quiet ‘thud’ hits his ears from behind. Unlike the woman who continues to stare down at her device in a bored manner, Yousaf spins around to the sound’s source, his heart nearly stopping his chest.
Despite the dark goggles and mask that cover their face, it takes him no time at all to recognize the person who promptly stands from where they had landed on the ground mere feet behind him, unpretentiously sauntering over to join the two.
“Yousaf, I believe you’ve met (L/n), right? Well, I say 'met’, but I’m sure the two of you have never actually spoken to each other. 'Seen’ would be a more fitting word, wouldn’t it?” At last, the woman glances up from her phone, the corner of her lip tugging upwards into a cruel smirk,“ the boss has decided it’s best to finally utilize our little (L/n) out in the open field since, as I’m sure you’re aware, she has a perfect record comparable to an entire gang. With that said, there really won’t be much point in wasting time and patience in keeping you employed with us anymore.”
“H…Huh?” It’s all he can say through his shocked state.
“Of course, despite your own incompetence, some of your employees show great promise in which the boss plans to put to good use under (L/n)’s command. I’m sure you’ll agree that it’s an excellent choice, really.”
“But what about me?!” The shock finally wares off, replacing itself with vexation,“ what am I going to do!? I have a family to provide for! I need this job!”
“That’s none of our concern anymore,” the woman shrugs while turning back to her purse to put her phone away, but Yousaf isn’t having it. Throwing his common sense out the window, he lets his fury take over instead, a complete contrast to the submissive behavior he usually shows towards his higher ups.
“BULLSHIT-!” He takes one step forward, reaching his hand out to grab the woman’s shoulder, but within a blink of an eye, an agonizing pain is sent through his arm, ripping a scream from his lungs.
Throwing himself back in terror, he only manages to trip over his own feet, but the pain of the cement ground proves far less harrowing than that surrounding his wrist. Lacking the ability to think clearly, he makes the mistake of glancing down at his hand, or at least, where his hand should’ve been attached.
Another scream rattles through the room yet the woman only spares a tired glimpse over her shoulder, humming at gory sight that greets her eyes,“ my, you’re just a walking disaster anymore, aren’t you Yousaf? I’d figure you to have at least a decent amount of intelligent, but I guess this is an even better choice for the company that I originally thought…
"I trust you’ll be fine cleaning everything up on your own. I have a meeting across town and would hate to get blood on my skirt,” after receiving a wordless nod from you, she swings her purse over her shoulder before going to take her leave, however, as she walks past him, Yousaf reaches out shakily with his remaining hand, grabbing hold of her leg.
“…P-Please…I-I d-don’t wanna die-die here!”
“An orders and order, Yousaf, but don’t worry. I heard (L/n) is very quick with her work,” the woman effortlessly lifts her leg from his grip, shaking her head in disappointment at the sight of the bloody handprint that now stains her stockings.
Her heels create a sharp clicking pattern against the ground which does nothing to echo out the cut off scream left in her wake; not that she pays it any mind anyways. Instead, she taps away at her phone while waiting patiently right outside the warehouse despite the driver of a black Mercedes-Bez holding the vehicle’s door open for her mere feet away.
“Don’t worry yourself with the body. He wants it to be a message to anyone else who’s thinking of slipping up,” she explains dully once feeling your presences,” I’ll assume you already understand your next target. The boss has given you the freedom to take down Spiderman in any method you see fit. No one cares how messy it gets, just get it done.“
She barely spares you a glance as you coolly clean the blood off your sword with an already stained towel, your goggles glowing in the shine of the streetlights,” of course, ma'am.“
-Contains eventual warnings/possibly sensitive content (the specific warnings will always be listed at top of the story and/or the exact chapter they occur in)
Overview:Aunt May and your parents visit for dinner, but instead of having a peaceful night with family like you had ordinally hoped for, your husband and yourself are stressed with the task of hiding an unexpected problem from your relatives, one that could expose Spiderman’s true identity if you aren’t careful enough.
Even from your spot in the kitchen, you can hear the living room TV echoing. Every couple of minutes, you’ll take a short break from your work to peek around the corner, smiling contently at the sight that always greets you. For the last hour since he returned home, Peter has been sitting on the floor with his back leaned against the couch, his arms wrapped around your son who is placed on top his lap. Both Parker boys carry the same hypnotized looks on their faces, their mouths slightly agape with their eyes glued on whatever episode of Sesame Street is currently playing on the TV, although, you doubt the youngest understands most of it. He’s likely just happy to be with his daddy.
While Peter keeps an eye on the baby, you’ve gotten to work on making dinner. About a week ago, you had made plans with both your parents and Aunt May to have dinner together. While they claimed that a family visit has been long overdue, it’s clear they’re mainly wanting to spend more time with the baby, not that you could ever blame them for being entranced by such an adorably cubby face.
Little Benjamin Reilly Parker was born on June 14th with a small fluff of brown hair upon his head and a healthy weight of 7.6 pounds. Needless to say, after months of constant illness, mood swings, and relentless kicking from the baby, you were very eager to finally meet the little monster as was your husband.
Benjamin is only six and half months old, yet he already has his daddy wrapped around his finger, Peter happily taking on the role of a doting father regardless of what it entails. If Ben’s hungry, he’ll volunteer to cradle him with a bottle no matter the hour. If Ben wants to play, you can expect to find your husband sprawled across the carpet with the baby lying next to him in his activity gym. If Ben is being extra fussy with you during the night, you bet Spiderman is going to kick someone’s ass much faster so that he can sooner get home to his son.
Speaking of Spiderman, Ben doesn’t seem to notice a difference between the hero and daddy. The second Peter crawls through the window, Ben is already reaching out to him with a smile and endless babbling, knowing all too well who’s under the mask. About a month ago there had even been a few pictures on the Daily Bugle of Spiderman stopping to say ‘hello’ to young mother and her baby. Of course, you played dumb when your parents called to inquire about the incident, agreeing with them that Spider must not be able to resist such a cute baby while also secretly elbowing Peter who had laid his head against your shoulder with a smirk as he listened in.
If there’s one good thing about Ben’s young age, it’s his inability to talk so far. You’ve brought the worry up to Peter a few times, quizzing him on what he’ll do if lil’ Ben ever starts referring to Spiderman as dad in front of people. Peter often chooses to brush the question off, insisting that Ben’s young enough for the two of you to convince people he just thinks of his dad as a superhero, although, you’re personally not convinced with that plan. Eventually, your son will have to be taught to keep his father’s secret just that, but for now, it isn’t too big of a concern, after all, Ben has yet to even say his first word. It’s not like he’ll suddenly say 'hey, Spiderman’s my dad’ the next time you take him to the store.
Peter’s arms snake around your waist as you stir the pasta noodles, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck which draws a smile from you,“ May just texted a few minutes ago. They’re almost here.”
He just nods, smiling against the exposed skin of your neck.
“You know, she offered to bring a meatloaf, too.”
Even without seeing it, you know he’s making a face by the sound he makes alone, hiding himself further away in your hair,“ thank goodness you’re cooking. Don’t ever tell her, but your cooking is way better than hers.”
“Now Peter, I can’t lie to Aunt May. I promised to tell her everything,” you giggle when glancing back at him, his bottom lip pushed out in a pout as he whines your name,“ I’m joking. You know your secrets are always safe with me, my dear.”
Peter hums in satisfaction, pressing a couple of quick kisses starting at the crook of your neck to your cheek before pulling himself away to grab the glass of water he originally came into the kitchen for. Meanwhile, you turn off the stove and go to grab some cream cheese from the fridge, subconsciously glancing towards the living room where you should’ve seen Ben sitting in either his bouncer or laying in his activity gym in front of the TV, but he’s in neither spot,” did you put Ben in the crib?“
Peter pulls the water glass away from his lips, raising an eyebrow at your strange question,” no? I laid him down on his blanket so that he could play with his toys.”
It only takes you two steps to enter the living room. Seeing that your apartment isn’t huge, neither are any of the rooms, therefore, you have a full view of the floor just from where you stand. At first, you expect to discover Ben either rolling or crawling around the carpet as such as been a habit of his ever since he first learned to rock his body about a month ago, but instead, you didn’t see your child anywhere, making your heart drop into your stomach.
“Peter, he’s not here.”
“What do you mean ‘he’s not here’?” You husband doesn’t sound concerned, the meaning behind your words not processing in his mind.
You walk around the room distraughtly, looking on the other side of the coffee table and the two small couches,“ I mean he’s not here. I don’t see him!”
It only takes seconds for Peter join you in the living room, panic sketched across his face when he realizes you aren’t just pulling his leg. The baby really is nowhere in sight causing both of you to franticly search for him, your minds racing as would any parent’s if in your situation.
“I only left him for a minute at best! How could he have crawled away that fast? Babies aren’t that fast, right?” Peter runs down the hallway, his eyes scanning the floor in search of his son. He even looks around the bedroom and bathroom despite both doors having been shut just on the off chance that Ben somehow got inside.
“I don’t see him, Peter! How-How could he have just disappeared like this? How did we lose our baby?!” You get onto the ground yourself, checking under the couches and tables then dashing into the kitchen in hopes that lil’ Ben had tried crawling in there after his father. No luck.
“Maybe we’re just missing him?”
“How do you miss a baby, Peter!? It’s a baby!” Your hands are on your head, your fingers digging into your hair as you face your husband, your thoughts racing over how terrible of a mother you must be to lose your six-month-old baby.
“I don’t know-!” Peter doesn’t finish his sentence, instead jumping back when a small drop of water hits his forehead. Even you notice, both of you looking up ever so slowly from each other to where the droplet had fallen from. The sight makes your eyes widen and hearts race even more than they have been if that’s even possible.
“…Peter?”
“…Yes, dear?”
“W-What the fuck?!”
Both of your eyes are locked on the ceiling, or better put, on your son;your six-and-a-half-month-old son who is hanging upside down directly above your husband with his signature two-tooth grin and a line of drool dripping from his puffy lips. All either of you could do is stare for what felt like an eternity, that was, until you break the silence with a cry.
“Peter, get him down!”
Your husband snaps out of his trance, leaping up and easily grabbing hold of your son, although, he has a bit of difficultly with the 'getting him down’ part. Moving his knees to the ceiling, Peter gently tugs on Ben, yet the baby’s hands and knees remain glued to their spot,“ he won’t let go.”
“What do you he won’t let go? Just pull him off.”
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
You think for a second before standing on the coffee table, but even on your toes, you can’t exactly reach him, your fingertips only barely brushing against Ben’s back. He babbles, reaching one hand out to you with a grabby motion,“ don’t let him fall, Peter.”
“I won’t.”
“Come on, Ben. Let go and come to mama. You want mama, right?” At last, Ben removes his other hand, reaching it out to you with his knees becoming unstuck soon after. Peter’s hand on his back prevents him from falling, allowing him to slowly lower Ben into your safe arms where you’ve never held onto him so tightly before.
Peter falls to your side, the two of you searching Ben for any injuries before looking into each other’s flabbergasted eyes. You open your mouth, although, you aren’t sure what you’ll even say. You don’t get the chance anyways. A ring echoes through the apartment as well as a soft knocking at the front door which makes both of your mouths fall open.
“…Shit. SHIT!”
“Language-uh, the baby!” Peter fusses even though he’s saying the same word inside his head. The realization hits you both like a train. You know Ben takes after Peter in both looks and personality, but powers to? You have a baby who sticks to walls and you’re only just figuring this out the second your family arrives?!
“What do we do? How do we explain Ben sticking to stuff?”
“We don’t. Here, I’ll get the door and watch over Ben while you finish dinner,” you go to hand Ben over to Peter, but when you hold him out, his hands remain stuck to your shirt. You whine Peter’s name, remaining frozen as he tries to shake Ben’s grip from you to no avail.
“Okay, new plan. I’ll get the door, you finish dinner. Don’t. Ruin. It,” there’s no time for arguing or new plans, another ring sounding off from the front door. Putting on your best 'I didn’t just find my baby on the ceiling’ smile, you hurry to the door with Ben while Peter dives into the kitchen.
“Hi,” you sing when seeing May and your parents together, stepping aside to let them in while praying they won’t notice your alarmed state,“ it’s good to see you all again. Please come in.”
“It’s always great to see you, too, (Y/n), as well as this little cutie, of course,” May waves at Ben with a bright smile which grows when he giggles at her, trying to hide his face against your shirt. Meanwhile, you give both of your parents the best side hug you can while also holding Ben’s unwavering grip as far away from touching any of them as possible.
“Oh, he’s gotten so much bigger since the last time we visited. You’re making your grandma feel old, little bug,” your mother coos at her grandson, reaching her arms out to take him from you only to be confused when you suddenly turn your body away sharply.
You’re quick to redirect the conversation before she can be offended,“ Peter’s in the kitchen finishing dinner so we can all sit in the living room until it’s done. Please excuse the mess, we didn’t have much time to clean up Ben’s toys.”
“No one’s going to blame you. Having kids is a messy business,” your father jokes, the three of them heading into the living room with you in their trail. With their backs turned, they are completely unaware of your internal dread as you fruitlessly attempt to pry Ben from your shirt once again. Peter has told you about how much he stuck to everything when he first got his powers, but this is ridiculous not to mention poorly timed!
Once everyone’s seated, you give an quick excuse while dodging your way into the kitchen where you find your husband rushing to get the sauce made with his limited cooking skills.
“Ben, come to dada,” he calls, providing you a small bit of relief when Ben listens and reaches for him, although, his leg remains stuck to your shirt. The two of you gently fight with him for a moment, trying to weaken his grip without too much force when a voice comes up behind you.
“I baked a pie for dessert; it’s Peter’s favorite. Should I just set it here?” By the time May looks up from her pie tin, Peter’s arms are around your waist, pulling you to him with Ben sandwiched between you both, not that the little guy minds, in fact, he seems to loving the extra attention he’s receiving.
“Yep, that’s fine,” Peter gives a rushed nod, swiveling the two of you so that he can lean over to kiss May’s cheek as she sets the pie on the corner next to him,“ it’s good to see you, May.”
“And you, too, Peter. I see your doing an excellent job raising your little one. He looks just like you did when you were his age. Oh, I’m sure he’s just the handful, too,” luckily, May’s oblivious to your strange behavior as well as the praying Peter is doing in his head as he watches her run a hand through Ben’s fluffy hair, both of you begging it not to stick. For the first time that night, fate is on your side with May successfully removing her hand from Ben.
The three of you share a short conversation, Peter never faltering his grip on you. Despite May’s various offers of help, he finally manages to convince her to wait in the living room while the two of you worry over dinner. With a relieved sigh once she exits, Peter turns to you only to be horrified by the look on your face as Ben tugs on a rather thick handful of your hair, the expression you’re giving your husband already saying it all.
You can hear May and your parents talking lively in the living room, unaware to the snipping of scissors as Peter cuts your hair from Ben’s grip. Although he tries to cut the least amount of hair as possible, you know by his grimace afterwards that it’s noticeable. He switches the scissors for Ben, taking him into the living room while you disappear into the bathroom to get a hair tie, putting your hair into a messy ponytail to hide the evidence.
From there on, it feels like you’re looking into the room every few seconds as you do the finishing touches to dinner. You know Peter’s just as worried by the various glances he sends towards the kitchen whenever no one’s looking at him. He makes every excuse in the book as to why no one can hold Ben while keeping him directly on his lap and far away from any other objects.
It’s as if you can read each other’s minds, knowing exactly what is at risk if anyone sees your baby’s tight grip. While they may not link it back to Spiderman directly, you’d eventually have to admit it just to keep them from ushering you to the doctors for your child’s strange 'disease’. Believe it or not, but neither of you really want to have that long conversation explaining to everyone that Peter’s not only Spiderman, but that his warped DNA has unexpectedly managed to passed down to the next generation.
Even when dinner’s ready, Peter doesn’t move Ben far from himself. You make your husband a plate, pressing a kiss against his cheek and ignoring Ben’s grabby hands as you pass by. As much as it kills you inside to hear Ben’s cries for attention, you let Peter convince him to sit with dada on the chair you had pulled up for them while mama sits with Auntie May on one couch, your parents together on the other.
“He sure loves his daddy, doesn’t he?” Your mother comments. Fortunately, you’re half away through dinner and no one’s noticed anything off yet.
“Yeah, his dada’s little boy. Aren’t you, Lil’ Ben?” Peter hums with a genuine smile while squeezing Ben’s cubby hand. Afterwards, Peter’s easily able to pull his own hand away from his son’s adhesive skin. ‘Must be nice’, you think.
“You’re gonna have to drop him off with us sometime, you know. He needs to learn he can get spoiled at grandma and grandpas,” your dad chuckles, leaning back in his chair with his empty plate balanced on his knee.
“It looks to me he’s already pretty spoiled here,” May jokes with a look of fondness while watching her nephew share his meal with his son one silly face and small fork full at a time. Ben’s admiration is clear by the way he stares up at his daddy with glittering eyes and a spaghetti-stained face, a look Peter shares (minus the stained face since May thankfully taught him long ago not to be messy when he eats).
“…Dada’s boy for sure,” you can’t help but smile yourself with one look towards your husband and son. Yeah, Ben’s powers are going to be a pain to deal with and it’ll scare the life out of you if he ever decides he wants to fight crime like daddy, but nothing could ever make you love your son any less. For the time being, you’ll just have to find a way to control his powers. Sure, your family is going to be disappointed when you don’t let them hold Lil’ Ben tonight, but it isn’t as if he’s going anywhere. Once your husband and you figure everything out, you’ll be able to invite them over for a much better dinner-
“-D..da..dada,” your eyes go wide as do everyone else’s when hearing the tiny yet clear voice, all eyes turning to the source, however, when you do, you’re surprised to notice that Ben isn’t looking at Peter. Instead, his head is facing forward with his cubby hand reaching towards the muted TV screen or, more specifically, towards the picture of Spiderman that’s showing on the news.
It takes every ounce of will power for Peter not to immediately burst with joy, agreeing with Ben in front of everyone and encouraging him that it is, in fact, dada on screen. Instead, he must suffer with that bubble of happiness in silence the same way you do as your eyes dart between your husband’s face to your baby’s.
“I guess Spiderman sure made quite the impression on the little bug,” your mother reckons in awe.
“Was that his first word?” May asks in surprise and you nod wordlessly, Peter being too busy holding a hand over his mouth in a poor attempt at blocking his giddy laughter. He has to force himself not to shake you while gushing about over Ben saying ‘dada’.
“Damn, not even to his own dad?” Your mother elbows your father for his remark, hissing at him to be quiet.
“We shouldn’t be too upset, I guess. Spiderman’s a great guy, after all; someone good Ben can look up to, right Peter?” You smirk, placing a hand over his free one while his other is still preoccupied hiding the massive grin over his face that would look far too strange on the face of a father who supposably just heard his son call someone else 'dada’. You can’t blame him, though. Even you can’t suppress the grin as you look you down at Ben,“ dada’s right here, honey. Can you say it again? Dada?”
“Dada?” Peter finally speaks, tickling Ben’s arm to gain his attention,“ dada. Da-da.”
“Da…dada,” Ben watches Peter’s mouth, following the movements and sounds he heard. He smiles at the bright look his daddy gives him, repeating the word once more with both hands outstretched in attempts to grabbing his face,“ dada!”
“That’s right, Ben! Dada!” Peter lifts him up, holding him in a standing position so that Ben could actually put his hands against his cheeks,“ dada…and that’s mama. Can you say mama? Ma-ma. Ma-ma.”
Ben looks to you, staring for a moment while babbling the sounds he’s hearing before finally getting it right after quite a bit of practice,“ mama.”
“Yes, I’m mama,” laughing cheerfully, you run a hand through his fluffy hair, not even considering the possibly that it could’ve gotten stuck. You’re too happy to worry over that.
Ben giggles, looking back to Peter and reaching across his face. Even with his sticky hands, Peter doesn’t mind, pressing his forehead to his son’s as they both laugh. Your mother and May gush about how cute they both are while your father sits back with a smile of his own. The joy everyone feels over witnessing Ben’s first words is enough to distract your guests from your strange behavior throughout the night, eventually excusing your habits of not letting them hold the baby as the two of you must just be soaking up the moment with your son.
By the end of just three hours, your parents and May depart from the apartment but not without making you promise to bring Ben to visit them soon. Once everyone is out the door, you shut it with a tired sigh that turns to a gentle smile when you hear Ben’s babbling behind you.
“Ma-Mama,” turning around, you’re greeted by your smiling husband and baby, the later reaching out to you with grabby hands.
“That was fun,” Peter comments, brushing your hair back to press a kiss to your forehead as you take Ben from him, fully aware it’ll be a fight to pry him away from yourself later. Looking from your child to your husband, you already expected the giant grin plastered on his lips,” Ben said his first words. He called me 'dada’!“
"Technically he called Spiderman 'dada’ meaning you’ve got some competition for the role, Mr. Parker,” you tap Ben’s noise, smirking when Peter rolls his eyes, his arms wrapping around your waist to bring you closer to him, but your smirk soon turns into a frown, a sigh escaping your lips again,“…what are we going do now? They may not have seen anything tonight but May wants us to visit next week and if any of them ever notice Ben sticking to stuff, they’ll eventually realize why he called Spiderman 'dada.”
“I know…May would be heartbroken if she found out you had an affair with Spiderman, but I guess no one can really blame you. Word on the street is he’s pretty hot not to mention excellent in bed. How is a normal guy like me to compete?” Peter jokes, causing you to whine his name in halfhearted annoyance. He chuckles, moving to kiss your lips, although, he only gets a small peck before you move away with a pout.
“Peter, I’m being serious. I don’t care so much about our family knowing, but if the wrong person finds out, what will happen?”
Now it’s Peter’s turn to sigh, his forehead resting against yours,“ then we make sure no one does…I’ve been through all of this before, I know what to expect. I’ll teach Ben how to control his powers and, as he gets older, we’ll make sure he understands that Spiderman and his dad need to be separate people.”
When you lift your head, your lips slightly brush against his,“ and if he decides to fight crime while wearing bright spandexes?”
“I’ll give him 'the talk’,” he simpers, his hot breath blowing against your lips before he finally rids of the gap with the deep kiss he’s been waiting for all night.
“…Peter?” You break away, but the distance only lasts a second before Peter’s lips are back on yours.
OVERVIEW: As a descent of an infamous assassin family, it’s only natural that you’ve never failed to accomplish your goals. Armed with years of flawless experience forged from the hardships of your life, you’ve ultimately become both respected and feared by most of New York. With unmatched skills paired with undying loyalty, you’ve never once hesitated to eliminate anyone who’s made the terrible choice of standing in either you or your boss’s way…so why did you spare Spiderman?
NOTE:This story attempts to use neutral details and original storylines in order to fit any version of Spiderman so that you, the reader, may choose the variant that you wish to fill the role whether it be Andrew Garfield, Tom Holland, Tobey Maguire, or someone else if you really want.
WARNINGS:This story will eventually contain mature content including swearing, violence, gore, and themes of mental illness. Reader discretion is advised.
Could I Find Homeland In You? (Peter Parker One Shot)
Summary: based on the following nonnie’s lovely prompt - Can you do a TASM!Peter x fem!reader prompt where they are childhood besties but Peter kinda starts crushing on Gwen but then after he approaches her she turns him down and the reader comforts him until he finally realizes he loves her? Kinda gets angsty when Peter tells her about Gwen bc she has also had feelings for him since forever but refuses to acknowledge them. Best friends to lovers kinda trope… loads of fluff?
hope you enjoy this my sweet nonnie <3
Pairings: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, italicised words between dividers are past moments between peter and the reader. This is non canon compliant. Peter, Reader and Gwen are in university.
Don’t look at them, don’t look at them. You chant to yourself, but your eyes do fixate, on his warm grin, bright brown eyes full of mirth. Then you gaze at the person making him laugh, Gwen.
Your heart sinks, you look back down at your notebook, ideas messily strewn across the pages. Lines crossed by ink but not you.
It isn’t that you dislike her, she is a really great person, you admire her work and she is always sweet to you.
It’s just Peter parker is completely taken by her, he hasn’t told you, his childhood best friend yet about how he feels but you can see it as clear as day. Peter blushing when he speaks to Gwen or about her, longingly looking at her when she walks past the two of you.
He doesn’t need to tell you what you already know.
You just wish he would look at you that way.
Because you look at him that way but he never finds your eyes.
“Do you want to continue this later? I’m kind of tired.” You ask the remaining members of the chemistry group project, your mood souring as Peter shifts closer to Gwen, reading the contents on her laptop over her shoulder. her temple resting against his jaw.
Your mind flashes to last week when the two of you were watching the latest episode of Dynasty, that was how you both were, cuddled up the laptop resting on the makeshift pillow stand.
You shake out of the memory looking at your group,
“Yeah.” They agree, you grab your scarce materials, shuffling out the door of the open area, it reverberates a clang upon shutting.
Peter looks up after a while, from the yearbook spread on Gwen’s screen, eyes scanning the area. His eyebrows furrow noticing your absence.
I watched Spider-Man in theaters and I wanted to write but it wasn’t a good time for me to since the movie wasn’t out yet. Or in a Mcu mood. But um…I might be back to Mcu (I still do headcanons) but maybe some fics. If I do spiders man it’s Tom since that’s who I personally know. Andrew and Toby are amazing and are great so don’t came after me. Plus I never watched there movie so fight me man. But if I watch andrews I will be heart broke so I’m saving myself from more pain right now.
Anyway.
I might do some Wanda and Spider-Man small fics. I don’t know yet but I might. Or in the future, like when doctors strange comes out.
What can I say, this is my childhood dream coming to real life! Still can’t believe it’s happened…
On a side note, I’ve been so busy with college that I haven’t been active on tumblr at all, but I’m still very active on Instagram. So check it out if you would like to see some more content like reels and earlier posts. Hope to see you there ☺️
Summary: After Stephen saves the world he arrives after months of departure and faces his pregnant fiancé.
Warning: fluff, Angst
Word Count: 1.5k
Requests are Open
Lovingly, her fingers stroked the curve of her belly and stared into the far distance of the city, watching the tears of the dense clouds dancing across the windows of the flat she shared with her husband.
The stiff wind knocked on the high windows. Exhausted, Y/N leaned her head against the cold glass and exhaled loudly as the pleasant cold banished the uncomfortable warmth from her body. A weak smile adorned her face. Y/N had imagined it differently. Every sunrise the young woman hoped the door to the apartment would open and she would find herself in his arms again, but slowly Y/N understood she would never find a moment of peace in his firm embrace again, never be able to let him know how much she loves him.
Firmly, Y/N clawed her fingers into the fluffy blanket, imagining she was in Stephen’s arms. Her forehead left a spot on the window. She turned and let her gaze wander around the living room and a faint smile graced her lips as her eyes fell on the only picture in the flat hanging on the other side of the wall in beige tones.
She wished she could dimly remember the day the picture was taken but the moment was unforgettable and the ring on her finger reminded her every day of how she had answered the question of all questions.
Y/N was unable to see his belongings anymore, it pained her too greatly and made it nearly impossible to enter the various rooms of the home. She had put all his belongings in a box after Stephen had not arrived after six months and the rumours came to light that he was maybe no longer among the living.
More and more lights went out as the clock ticked. The mobile phone in the depths of her pocket was on silent, knowing exactly what would happen if she took the calls of her friends. She didn’t desire to hear the reassuring words, telling her Stephen would soon come, but with each passing hour, Y/N doubted more and more that she would ever see him again. The fear gnawing at her soul disappeared. The smile on her lips spread and the darkness threatening to cover her as a veil faded away. Laughing, Y/N stroked over the ever-growing belly.
“Hey little one, you’re so small, yet you have so much strength. You are going to be such a strong girl.” Y/N breathed in a loving tone, forgetting fear and anger rising in her heart.
Tears took away her vision.
"I’m sorry, my little sunshine. I love you dearly. I wish I could offer you something my mother couldn’t, but I see I can’t give you a father to be by your side, either. But hey, look at me, I’m relatively normal and I was raised without a dad. And you will have great uncles and aunts who have promised to help us. Uncle Peter, for example, hung outside the window and wouldn’t stop knocking on the glass until I let him in.” Y/N added, laughing after a few moments of silence.
Grinning, Y/N remembered the boy who came over every day to not to leave her on her own, even if she didn’t want anyone by her side, wanted to grief alone. Yet Y/N couldn’t chase the boy away and the bag in the guest room was a daily reminder that Peter had nearly moved in.
There was an uncomfortable chill reigning in the flat, but Y/N didn’t mind, looking off into the distance and back down at the barely trafficked street. The lights were no longer blinding. He hadn’t opened the door, and the portal vanished soundlessly. A strange, indescribable feeling spread through his heart and the uncommon dressed man took a step into the lovingly furnished living room. Stephen feared the worst, but as soon as his eyes witnessed the woman, his heart was longing for looking out of the window the heavy burden dropped from his heart, realising nothing had happened to her.
The dark hair was dishevelled, not lying neatly on his head. A few grey strands, mirroring the tone of a spider’s web as morning dew danced down the fine threads, broke through the darkness. No blood dripped from his healed wounds. Scars and scratches adorned his body, but none of them ached as much his heart yearning for a loving touch. Guilt dripped from his lips, knowing he had made a horrible mistake, but he was unable to take back what he had done.
Y/N had not noticed the man who made no sound, who was looking at the calendar hanging on the wall near him. He wanted to destroy the space between them to hold her tightly in his arms but he couldn’t take his eyes off the numbers framed by a red circle. His eyes widened and he felt his heart tighten. Names and times were written in curved letters under the various dates, had heard the names at least once in his life. Questions blazed in his eyes and suddenly he turned, unable to remain silent.
“Y/N/N?” breathed a voice.
She was no longer breathing. Her hands rested on her stomach in a protective gesture, fearing, but then she recognised the eyes settling on her, piercing like a sharp dagger through the dimness of the apartment.
The shadow moved swiftly across his face. Y/N couldn’t believe her eyes, was sure she was dreaming, thought she had fallen asleep on the sofa, but then she felt the hot tears streaming in great rivers down her cheeks and was sure she wasn’t asleep. Shocked, the tall man let his eyes wander over his fiancée’s body, immediately seeing what not even the blanket resting on her shoulders could hide. All the hatred, pent-up anger and grief she had been storing up for the last few months disappeared, were carried away by the warm breeze, by his unmistakable smell.
“You’ve been gone for a long time,” Y/N breathed, still unable to believe her eyes.
He witnessed the ring gracing her hand sparkling in the faint light like a lone star. The question laying on his tongue did not cross his lip, knew it did not need to escape, knew the answer.
“I can explain everything, my love. Please forgive me. I couldn’t leave them, they needed me, the world needed me, but I know you need me too, I can see it clearly.” he said in a broken voice.
Hatred and anger no longer rooted in her heart.
“You couldn’t have known Stephen. I found out two weeks later, I felt very sick and made an appointment. No one knew where you were and I realised after a while that there was no point in searching for you. I tried to find you.” Y/N answered weakly but loud enough to know Stephen could hear her loud and clearly.
Cautiously Stephen took one step at a time, leading the way. His arms wrapped gently around her body, pressed her tightly to his chest and smiled, forgetting the pain of his wounds as he felt a hand collide with his torso, appearing to reach for him.
“May I?” he whispered weakly in a quivering voice.
Tears blocked his vision but Y/N could not see them as they dared to cross the borders and travelled in narrow streams down his features.
“Of course, my love, you don’t have to ask me, it’s our child. A part of you. I’ve told her about you every day. You don’t have to fear, I told her only nice things about you.”, "Her?” he probed, wanting to be sure he had heard correctly.
Y/N nodded.
“A little girl, I haven’t decided on a name yet, I was hoping we could choose a name together but I’ve already decorated the nursery. Peter helped me a lot, he more than less moved in and refused to leave me alone and I am glad he stayed. He brings me the groceries and I have even sent him at the stroke of midnight to get me some ice cream.” Y/N told.
Her eyes glistened.
“Would you like to see the nursery? I hope you like it and you don’t need to worry, I didn’t throw your things away, they are in a box. I’m sorry but I couldn’t see them anymore but I kept the engagement ring and pictures.” Y/N breathed.
Knowingly, Stephen nodded, understanding his soon to be wife completely. Tender words slipped. Gently, his hands stroked down her back, caressed her skin and he felt the cloak disappear from his shoulders and slowly fly to her and settle on Y/N’s shoulders. Lovingly, his lips settled on hers and then he kissed the tears away before they could move further down her face kissed by the faint light of the waning moon.
Peter: so then i got kicked out of the family business for good because apparently i am a “liability” and “reckless” and “Peter”. The last one’s just my name but you should hear their tone.
summary: after strange’s spell, everybody forgot. peter could walk down the street without having cameras shoved into his face, but he could no longer go into that coffeehouse and talk to his friends like he used to. everybody forgot who peter parker was. everybody except for one.
genre: angst, friends to lovers
warnings: spoilers (obviously), angst, sad peter hours, little bit of canon level violence
The paper in his hand was crumpled, the words on his tongue slurred as his hands sweated from his anxious nerves. His heartbeat thumped erratically in his chest and walking through that open door that greeted his senses to the strong smell of coffee and sweets just about sent him into a spiral.
The girl behind the counter gave him a small, costmary smile, only growing naturally when she saw the person behind Peter and gave them a bigger wave.
Looking over his shoulder he watched as Ned shoved past him, instantly making conversation with MJ as if he wasn’t there.
“Hey Ned,” She gave Peter another small smile as she mouthed in a second, and grabbed Ned’s usual order of the glazed donut, pouring him some coffee she had already made beforehand as they chatted about MIT and other things Peter had missed in the time they, along with the rest of this universe, had forgotten him.
He had to get used to that, Peter reminded himself, he technically no longer existed.
“Hello,” She greeted as she finished talking to Ned, not noticing how Peter’s eyes brimmed with tears, “What can I get you?”
Peter stuttered, just as he always seemed to do around MJ, and looked down at the papers for help, nodding to himself as he muttered encouraging words for himself under his breath.
“I-I’m Peter Parker,” He said slowly, for the first time since that spell was cast and everybody forgot who he was, the words he had practiced a million times before sounding small and insolent.
He wasn’t anybody under that mask. Once he put it on, everybody knew Spiderman. It seemed as though his life was turning backward as even the girl he loved could recognize the masked hero better than him.
But to his shock and surprise, he watched as her eyes widened a bit, the smile dropping as Ned looked up from his seat, his eyes squinting as he tried to get a better look at his face.
Time stopped as MJ instantly whipped her phone out, typing something quickly as she made a quick call, whispering out a quick apology as the person behind the other line refused to pick up.
“D-do you know me? I-it’s me, Peter,” He moved forward, shuffling as hope ignited in his chest, warmth blossoming to the tips of his fingers as he looked from MJ and then to Ned, his lips turning upward into the biggest smile he had ever given somebody, “Peter Parker?” His lungs seemed to stop working as air lodged up in his throat, waiting for her to just say something.
“U-uh no, sorry,” MJ cursed to herself as the line beeped again, the automated voice answering box mocking her as she pocketed the phone, “Sorry about that. What,” She pushed her hair back behind her ears, trying to look as professional as she could as Ned gapped behind her, “What can I get you?”
And just like that, his smile fell, hands to his sides as the paper jeered at him for his stupidity and innocence.
“Oh, um,” His voice fell an octave, hushed as he almost let out a pained sound, “That’s,” He took in a deep breath, trying to sturdy himself back into his factious reality, “That’s o-okay. Can I get a coffee to go, p-please?”
The door behind him swung open, and he once again watched as MJ gave the person behind him one of her real smiles, not the ones she was forced to put on because of her job, but that wasn’t what stopped Peter in his tracks.
He heard a small gasp from behind him, a sound of objects clattering to the floor as he whipped his head around, eyes widening when he saw you.
It had been weeks since you two last talked, since you laughed at his stupid science puns, and it had been an agonizingly long amount of time since he watched carelessly as you ate those stale donuts while MJ and Ned decided different things to write for their college admissions letter.
There were dark eye bags under your eyes, your face no longer the bright and happy one he was so used to seeing, this one much grimmer and saddened as the two of you stared at one another, the silence becoming heavy as you didn’t say anything.
Your mouth opened, fingers touching your hair as you tried to ground yourself, gapping as you took a slow step forward, not caring about your laptop that could have possibly been broken from the fall it took or the way you already chipped phone could have received more damage.
“Peter?”
He decided that he had never heard a more beautiful sound.
No time was spared are you barreled into his chest, arms tightening around him like a python as you shakily whimpered into his neck, your tears falling down like rain droplets, wetting his skin and collar of his shirt as you wept.
You didn’t care if people saw, didn’t care if MJ and Ned stared at you like you just saw a ghost, didn’t care about anything because Peter was here. He was here and alive and holding you as you were the only thing keeping him steady from falling down.
“P-peter,oh god, Peter,” You cried into him, not letting go though he didn’t seem to want to either as your lips wavered, fingers grasping tighter onto the fabric of his back as your chest heaved with wet sobs, “Oh Pete,” That is all you could seem to say as tears moved in like waves and you had no control over them.
For him, it felt like time had stopped as he sensed your familiar scent of warm vanilla, your warm touch now a bit cold but still you as you held him like he mattered. The way you used to do when he was somebody that people loved, when he was the real Peter Parker.
It took you minutes to move away from his body and even then had difficulty as he seemed to refuse to let you go, but you couldn’t not see his face for a second longer, your fingers moving upward as you gripped his cheek in your hands, eyes scanning his face for any cuts or bruises, anything to prove to you why he had been gone for so long without saying anything.
His tears fell down his cheek, splattering on the ground, but the two of you did nothing to wipe either as your hands fell from his face, falling on his chest as you looked at MJ, pointing to him as you waited for her or Ned to say something.
When she gave you a confused shake of her head, asking what was wrong, you felt more tears roll in as you felt the insanity you had been feeling the past few weeks etch its way back into your mind.
You gave him a little push, his feet tumbling back as your lips wobbled in anger, eyes looking at him like he lit the world afire, and you heaved, another sob coming out of your chest as you smacked his arm.
“Where,” You gave his chest another push, but it was weak and he could withstand it, “Were,” Another weak one, your hands folding in on themselves as you crumpled back into his chest, “You?” You seethed those three words out, each quieter than the last, a mix of rage, betrayal, ache, hurt, everything you’d been feeling but didn’t know why seeped out as you hugged him once again.
Peter couldn’t feel anything as he felt your tears on his skin, hands shaking as he scooped you into his arm, his cheek pressed tightly against your head as his thumb moved ever so slowly up and down your back, something he sued to do when you or MJ or May was every feeling sad, something he never thought he’d do again, but here he was.
His mind was reeling, everything was going so fast he could barely breathe, but you were here, you were her and hugging him just like you used to do.
“You know me?”
His voice was barely there, a fleeting whisper as he could barely believe what he was seeing. He heard you give a small, appalled laugh, punching him lightly in the chest as you looked up at him, confused that he’d even ask such a ridiculous question.
“Peter, what the fuck, o-of course,” You lamely tried to wipe at the tears, “Of course, I know you? Y-you’re Peter Parker, right? Or have you changed your name since I last saw you because nobody seems to know who you are! A-and I feel like I’m crazy and insane but you’re here so you have to be real. I-I mean, these past nine years couldn’t have been fake, right? An-” He cut you off, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek as he swooped you back into his arms.
“Was it that electrical guy, d-did he, did he shock you or something? Have you been to the hospital? Why didn’t you tell us, you know we’d come…” You whispered into his chest, defeated as he sniveled something out, almost shocked as he stuttered nonsense to himself.
“Wewouldcome but MJ and Ned seem to have lost their fuckin’ minds because they can’t seem to remember you!” You said, furious now as you looked at the girl and boy behind him.
You snapped out of your trance, struggling to get out of his grasp as you stared the two of them down, shaking in defiant rage as you pointed to him.
“This,” You almost yelled, “This is Peter! Remember? Peter Benjamin Parker? O-or can’t you seem to know your own fucking boyfriend?” Your head tilted to the side in an almost manic way. MJ could barely say anything as she stuttered, looking at Peter and then back to you, “And you,” You moved over to Ned, your finger jammed into his chest as he looked wildly at your face, “Do you not remember Peter? Pete from third grade? Peter with remarkably amazing eyesight? Peter who built the death star with you? That Peter?”
If only you could see the way Peter beamed, at the way his eyes widened and shined so brilliantly, as though you had handed him his world back even if you were just yelling at your friends for no reason.
You remembered him. Everything about him, and he could barely control his childlike glee, the rosy blush that swarmed his cheeks adding some color to his face that had been so pale the past couple of days.
For in the span of those minutes you first saw him till now, Peter deduced that MJ, Ned, Happy, and just about anybody who knew who he was still didn’t know the real Peter Parker.
Everybody except for you.
“U-um, n-no, can’t say I,” Ned looked over at MJ, questioning you and the stranger he had only seen until a few minutes ago, “Can’t say I do?”
You groaned, jamming your palms into your eye sockets as your fists clenched, looking back at MJ to see if anything sparked in her memory, but she just seemed to be apologizing to Peter for your loud outburst.
But Peter could only give her a shaky smile, muttering some things as he pushed past some people to get to you, his hands shaking a bit as he gripped your arms, searching your face to see if you still remembered him.
“Y/n,” Peter had the most gentle hold on your arm, almost terrified that if he touched you you’d disappear, “Can we go outside,” He looked at the small crowd forming, “Please?”
You whipped your head to the sound, your angry look vanishing when Peter gave you a heartbreaking smile, cocking his head to the door as he tried to usher you out.
You couldn’t say anything as you muttered your goodbyes to your friends, letting Peter walk you out because you couldn’t trust your legs, the cold air hitting your face as your teeth clamped down together.
“Pete, come on, you gottatell me what’s going on…” You felt him usher you to an alley, looking behind him to see if anybody was looking, but realizing he no longer had to be conscious about what he said because nobody would look at a boy in an alleyway to find out spiderman’s true identity.
“You know me?” He asked again, fingers carding through your hair as you gave him a slow and timid nod, wondering if you actually were crazy and he was a figment of your imagination this entire time.
“Yes, Pete, I know you. Unless some shit happened in these two weeks-”
“Something did happen,” He quickly said, his hands never leaving your shoulder, “Something bighappened and n-nobody’s supposed to know who I am,” He glanced back at the coffeehouse, “MJ and Ned were supposed to forget me. Youwere supposed to forget me b-but,” He looked back at you as if he could barely believe anything that had just happened, “Y-you know me?” His voice felt so raw, so defeated that despite the millions of questions that swarmed your mind, not one of them mattered as you pulled him into a hug, allowing his tears to fall freely in the expanse of your arms, something he never thought he could do again in such a short amount of time since that spell happened.
“You know me,” He said to himself because he couldn’t believe that somebody still remembered who he was, “You,” He embraced you back so tightly you felt the air in your lungs squeeze out, “Know,” He kissed your forehead as he looked at you, his thumb tracing your cheek to make sure you weren’t just another part of his nightmare, so glad to actually feel skin against his skin, “Me?”
And in that alleyway, with people passing by and the world moving around on its axis, his seemed to stop. Because here, he realized that he wasn’t totally in the dark. That somebody, perhaps one of the most important people in his life, could hug him back as they muttered his name over and over again, a mantra of truth that made Peter Parker somewhat of a person again.
—
As the weeks passed, it seemed as though Peter couldn’t let you go, showing you around his shabby apartment as he tried to slyly wipe the tears away from his cheek, giving you a wet chuckle as you noted about the little star wars figures on his desk and that you’d be sure to bring back more.
It was painful to tell Ned and MJ that something came up in your life to explain the outburst you had, and although they quickly forgave you, it didn’t hurt any less when they moved along the topic as if Peter’s name wasn’t important to them.
You guessed it no longer was.
You waited patiently as he’d pace around his room, reading a book on his bed he tried to come up with different solutions as to why you still knew who he was, every detail about his past that even he had been starting to forget, but he could only blame it on a flaw in Strange’s magic that allowed for this to happen.
His apartment was cold and dark, but he never failed to tell you just how restful you made it with all your visits, with the way you baked him your legendary pecan pie and made it the first thing he had in his rundown fridge.
His suit was tucked away in a corner, and he hadn’t touched it much since that night. Crime had been at a low, and even if it wasn’t, he felt rather nauseous whenever he put it on.
He’d tell you all about his plan in getting back together with MJ, to make her fall back in love with him, with how he promised both her and Ned that he’d come back for them, but his childish promise seemed more difficult to pull off seeing that they had moved to Massachusets a couple days ago.
He found a job at the computer store down the street, one of the last of its kind, and glimpsing at how you had been able to secure that Stark internship a couple years ago, Happy seemed intent on letting you stay as your job in New York continued from the comfort of your room. Moreso, Peter’s, seeing how much time you spent there.
“I just,” You looked up from your laptop as Peter slammed the door shut, kicking his shoes off with an annoyed huff, “I fuckin’ hate it. Seein’ MJ with that dick on her socials and Ned watching Return of the Jedi with Flash…” He flopped down on the mattress, his weight pushing you down a bit as you gave his back a comforting rub, your fingers tugging on his hair as he whined quietly again, moving so that he could situate his head on your thighs, looking up at his ceiling as he pressed a small kiss against your pants, trying for a smile as you began typing away.
“’M sorry Peter,” You glanced down at him, giving him an apologetic grin as you rubbed his shoulders, “It fuckin’ sucks, I know,” You patted his cheek as you went to type something, letting out a frustrated groan when your code didn’t work, forgetting what you were going to say to him when your mind got sidetracked.
He sat up, looking over your shoulder as he read what was on the screen, lips pursing together as he tried to make out what you were doing.
“Need some help?” He offered and had you not been running on two hours of sleep and about seven cups of coffee from the past three hours, you would have said no. But you just pushed it towards him, letting your back fall down as you heaved in a sigh of relief after being hunched for so long.
“When was the last time you slept?” He commented on your drowsy state and you murmured some incoherent words as you gripped onto his pillow.
“What?” He glanced at you, worry taking over his features as you moved in and out of sleep.
“About a day ago,” You gave a loud yawn, “Or two,” You tiredly rubbed at your eyes, “Maybe t-three, actually,” You yawned again, this time louder as you stretched.
Peter instantly put the laptop aside, moving so that you could lay fully on the bed, taking your glasses off as he set them on the little table next to him, folding them as you subconsciously snuggled deeper into his fluffy sheets.
“Oh Y/n,” He muttered some things as you yawned again, letting him place his hand behind your back as he lay another pillow underneath your head, “You gotta take more care of yourself, this isn’t healthy,”
Your lips pouted as you stared at him through your lashes, thoughts running behind that head of yours as your brows furrowed with one another.
“I got'chu though,” You murmured tiredly, your hands searching for his as you gave them a weak squeeze, earning a gentle one back in return.
“I know,” He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he tugged the blanket over your body, “But I’m not always here and you gotta know when to stop, yeah? I don’t have anybody else, so I gotta make sure you’re doin’ fine, okay?” You gave him a slow nod, adjusting your head into the pillow as you gripped onto his hand even tighter than before.
“’M always here,” You muttered slowly, “Nothin’ safer than spiderman’s apartment,” You joked with slurred words, sleep overtaking your features as you nodded off.
“Yeah,” He almost choked as he gave you a tight lipped smile, giving the back of your hand a kiss, “I know,”
Peter gave a small chuckle as he fell on the floor, not letting go of your hand as he used the other one to wipe at his tears.
It felt routine to have his eyes water up at the end of the night. Most of the time, he’d know the reason behind them. Some of them for MJ, for the fact that he was never able to tell her he loved her one last time, for the promises he made in the final minutes he was sure he’d never be able to make. For the fact that he’d most likely never be able to sit down with Ned and just watch a movie and laugh and have nothing else to worry about. Other times they were for May and the fact that her blood still stained his hands, no matter how many times you helped him clean them. On the rare occasion, Happy would plague his thoughts, and even worse was when he heard Tony’s last words, the deaths that lined his conscience whenever he tried to sleep.
But here, it wasn’t for the regret, the pain, the longing he felt regularly.
It was because you held onto him no matter what, that even as you tried to move in your sleep, you held his fingers with all your might. They reminded him that even in the world in which everything lit afire, you were there to put it out. The girl with the large glasses and books overflowing her backpack, the one that painfully waited for him to back after every mission only to watch with tearful eyes as you embraced him once again.
In these hours you reminded Peter that even when everything else he loved had gone to ruin, you never left, even if it wasn’t in your power to decide that, even if the fates above decided who’s string to meddle with more.
You heard a muted sniffle and eyes instantly snapped open, worriedly looking at him as he quickly wiped them away, but you were already shifting so that you sat on the ground next to him, pulling him into your side as you wordlessly hugged him.
Too many nights you’d waken up to get a cup of water only to find him crying silently to himself, so even when he pleaded for you to just pretend that everything was okay and to go back to sleep, you trained yourself in hearing the little sounds he’d make.
“Wanna go sleep?” You gently offered, yawning as you helped him stand up as you led him back to the bed, removing his coat as you folded it and placed it to the side, helping him situate himself on the bed as his cheeks shined in the moonlight that flooded in.
The two of you constantly switched places in taking care of one another, something that was rare before everything happened, but almost felt like clockwork as you began acknowledging that aside from Ned and MJ, who you rarely heard from anymore, Peter was really all you had left.
You went to go to the couch, your usual resting place when you felt him hold your hand, his brown eyes swimming with a mess of emotions as he refused to let go.
“Stay,” He whispered, voice lost to his own mind as he almost beseeched, “Please.”
You had slept in the same bed with him before. There was that one time you refused to sleep on his dirty floor and made him begrudgingly share the right side of his mattress with you, or the one time Ned kept on farting and he made him switch places with you, but never when he was this vulnerable.
But you gave him a slow nod, collapsing in when he scotched aside, letting you find your comfort as you edged into his back, the limited space not big enough to house the two of you in the simplest way, but you made it work.
You didn’t know just how much it eased Peter when you relaxed into his chest, or the way his hand subconsciously found its way across your chest in his sleep and the way you turned around at one point, your breathing hitting each other as the two of you slept as though one.
—
After that, sleeping alone just never appealed to you anymore.
If not for his strange warmth, Peter was a comfort you seek out when alone, and being safely tucked away in his arms, however platonic, surely helped ease your thoughts at night that he wasn’t doing anything idiotic.
He had changed dramatically since the boy you once knew.
He was quieter than before, much more reserved. The nights he went away on patrol were terrible because every siren you heard, every time you saw the clock tick past four you wondered if he’d be coming back.
Every time he left he’d promise he’d return, but it might have been your paranoia from before or the fact that you, alongside a handful of other people, actually knew him, and feared he may never come home.
Of course, he never wanted to leave.
Even though you assured him you’d be fine and could do well on your own, he always seemed to contemplate his departure much longer than he used to in his past, glancing at you and at the colorful array of locks at the door.
His apartment was protected, that much you knew. He had learned some things when he spent that awkward night with Bucky and Sam, but they had shown him some ways to make locks safer, and he had shown you how to turn off the safety on the gun he stored away just in case.
He told you to call him if you even got a papercut, and even though you promised you would, you forgot to call him that one time you accidentally cut yourself when making dinner and got an earful when he came back, fretting over your wrapped up finger as you assured him everything was okay.
But he never really went over what to do in case somebody actually broke in, and listening to the loud thudding from behind the door made you wish he had.
You had called 911 and they had told you they’d be here in a quarter to ten, but the clock on your phone was already read 10:05 so you heavily doubted if those sirens were going to come any closer.
You had called Peter multiple times, always going to voicemail, just as you suspected, and with each lock giving way from under the pressure from the people behind the door.
When he got to voicemail once again you let out a small cry, lips trembling as you tried to cover yourself the best you could with the clothes in the closet you laid hidden in.
“Peter,” You let out a yelp when the door finally slammed down and multiple voices could be heard from the outside, “There are people outside and they just came in and I’m in the closet, I-I,” You limited your voice to a whisper as the people on the other side shouted from one another, grumbling angrily to themselves as they realized there wasn’t anything valuable in the small apartment, “I’m scared, I don’t know what to do.” You shakily admitted, the yelling never stopping as they searched through the cabinets and drawers.
“Check in there!” One yelled to the other and you couldn’t do anything as the footsteps got nearer, ending the call as you tied to make yourself as hidden as possible, the door slamming open as one of the men began searching through the clothing, his eye never catching yours as he yelled back to the man behind him, stating that there was nothing here.
You stayed as silent as you could, not even breathing as the man left, going back to flipping the mattress over as they searched for valuables that weren’t there.
You could see through the crack in the door when a flash of red flew by, screams momentary as Spiderman flew in, his masked face looking wildly around, seeing your face peeking out from behind the wide array of the coats as he let out a sigh of relief, not before he gave the two men what he came here to do.
“You touch her?” He snapped, voice lined with fury, something you had never heard before as the two men looked at each other confused.
“Who? We ain’t touch nobody!” The one with the beard yelled, struggling against his webs.
“If my girl has a scratch on her fuckin’ body you gonna tell me who did it?” Peter’s hand flew to the other neck, his grip tightening as he wildly shook his head.
“We didn’t touch anybody! Didn’t even know somebody was here!” He yelled, words slurring together when Peter removed his hand just a bit, assessing your features as you shook your head, silently telling him that you were fine.
It only took a couple of seconds before he had them tied up and thrown away, letting the police do whatever they wanted with them as he came back, shutting the door with his web as he instantly sprinted to where you were, carefully and slowly peeling you out from your hidden corner as he dusted you off, his hands shaking as he looked over your face, almost not believing what was in front of him.
“A-are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you wanna sit down?” His thumb swatted at the dried tear marks, pulling you into his chest as he hugged you as tightly as he could.
“I’m okay, I swear,” Peter let out a relieved sigh, nodding more to himself as he pulled away from you, only to bring you back in when the fear from minutes before settled deep into his bones.
“I got your voicemail and I swear I’ve never run as fast as I did,” he muttered into your hair, “God,” You heard him groan from above you, “Just about felt my heart stop when I didn’t see ya’,” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and you pulled away, giving him a weak chuckle as you tried to wipe away at his tears.
“If I lost you,” He stopped, looking to the side as your hands moved up to touch his jaw, to redirect his focus back onto you, to take the pain away you knew he shouldered so well.
Peter’s hair was messed up from the wind, his cheeks red and tinted with salty tracks, but he had never looked more beautiful than he did now, chocolate eyes finding yours as he felt everything in his stop.
“Y/n, if I lost you I think I’d lose just about everything that mattered to me,” He admitted, his hands never leaving the sides of your face as you whimpered, crying as he kissed the tip of your nose.
“Pete…” You couldn’t finish the sentence as his hands moved down, gently lifting your face up as he placed a kiss to your lips, your breath catching in your throat as Peter kissed away everything you wanted to say.
He stated like tears and blood, but his lips were soft and forgiving. They moved in tandem with yours, greedy and hungry as he lapped away every sort of pain the two of you had felt in these past months.
It didn’t matter that the outside world was slowly catching fire, because here, with Peter kissing you like you were his oxygen and he was a man starved of air, nothing else seemed to matter.
He was rough yet kind, quick as he tried to make sure you were here, that you had been here all along, and you let him move you around, throwing your head back as his lips hungrily moved downward, wet kisses lining your throat as he hungrily marked what was his.
“Peter,” Your hands found purchase in his hair, “Pete, look, I’m okay, I’m okay,” He wanted to almost scoff at the way you thought he was kissing you like his life depended on it just because you were fine.
He moved away, lips bruised, red, and plump as his chest heaved, eyes dark with primal desire as he shook his head, hands gripping your waist with a force strong enough to bruise.
“I know darlin’,” He pressed a chaste kiss to your nose, “I just gotta show you how much you mean to me, can’t wait for a second longer,” And he stuck to his words as he quickly made his way to the bed, laying you down as your hearts intertwined in a peculiar, melancholy yet simple rhythm.
In those months the world forgot Peter Parker, his life was rewritten by somebody who seemed the realize that no matter what sort of power decided to mess with his gloomy, sunken life, you’d always be there.
Peter knew now that love wasn’t what carried you through, or perseverance or the sheer fact alone that you were you and nothing could break the two of you apart, it was that when the world forgot Peter Parker, you could never forget the boy who stole your heart those years ago, the one that made his way into your very mind and refused to leave.
His life would never be the same again, no matter how much he wished it would be. The burden of the world would fall onto his shoulders at the end of the day, a cruel game he’d be tested with at every hour, but he swore that as long as he’d have you, he’d do whatever he could to make this cruel life somewhat sweet again.
