Working on a Peter Parker #3 (but #1 in my heart) thing

i-dreamed-i-had-a-son:

Actually so emotional about Andrew Peter…just like. He just loves so much. He chooses to love life when it would be so easy to hate it. He loves people who aren’t here anymore and people he never really knew, he loves people who tried to kill him and after all this time he’s still trying to save them, he loves people he doesn’t know but who love a different version of him, he loves those reflections of himself so much that he goes out of his way to tell them he does and to call them his brothers after so short a time…and they give him that love back, and they tell him he is worthy of it, and after everything, he hates himself a little less.

Fight Club (TASM!Peter Parker x Platonic!Reader)

Noticing Peter’s outburst at school shortly after the death of his Uncle Ben, you decide to introduce him to the local boxing gym.

When you saw Peter Parker’s head resting on his locker, his signature goofy smile muted, you knew something was wrong. The brightest geek in the class was usually a ray of sunshine; today, it looked like his light had been sucked into a black hole. You resisted the urge to reach out to him, having heard the grave news of his Uncle Ben dying in his arms. When you lost someone close to you, you didn’t care about the well wishes or sympathetic looks. All you wanted was your loved one back. So you held back, watching his pain from afar.

You were collecting your books from your locker as the halls fell silent. A crash of a body hitting the metal. Spinning around you saw Flash pressed against the locker, Peter’s hands tightly holding him there. You didn’t need to see his face to see the empty fury lurking in his features.

Feeling as if you were intruding on something, you turned away. The crowd dissipated as quickly as it had formed. Peter eventually released his grip on Flash, him scurrying away as quickly as he could.

It was clear Peter was in pain. You felt that pain before. You barely spoke to the boy but you felt the tie of grief bind you together. An urge to help him took over your body. Turning on your heel you went back to your locker, snatching a flyer. Before you could think too much about it you slipped it between the slats of Peter’s locker.

~

You didn’t see him that night, or the next. Each time you kept an eye on the door, waiting anxiously for him to step onto the premises. Weeks passed and eventually, you stopped checking.

Brett clapped you on the shoulder. “Y/N! Can you show the rookie around? I’ve got a class in ten.”

“Sure,” you didn’t even look up from the computer, too busy deciding on what playlist would bounce through the walls of the gym.

Someone cleared their throat. You looked up, nearly falling out of your chair. It was Peter.

A bright smile lit up your face. “Sorry about that, in my own world.”

“It’s okay.” He seemed better than that day in the hall; not by much.

You randomly selected a playlist, shuffling out of the seat and moving to show him the rest of the gym. “Have you ever boxed before?”

“I… This isn’t normally my kind of thing.”

“You’d be surprised, a lot of people tend to think that. Next thing you know, they’re hooked.” You paused. “Sorry, that was a bad boxing pun, even I’m ashamed.”

Peter stared at you with a blank face.

“You know, hooked like a right hook? Nevermind.”

Clearing your throat, a niggle of doubt set in at the back of your mind. Why did you slip him the flyer? There was no point dwelling on it now, he was here and he was clearly interested, his eyes raking the large space with intrigue.

You pointed to the treadmills lining one wall. “That’s your treadmills, good for keeping up cardio. Hop on and I’ll show you how it works.”

“I’m more interested in the,” Peter cleared his throat, almost as if he was embarrassed to admit it out loud. “Hitting part.”

“You’d be shocked how tiring boxing can be. You need a good level of fitness, but” you shrugged, turning your back to the treadmills. “On your head be it. If you go running to Brett because you flew off the treadmill let him know I warned you.”

You swore you could see the ghost of a smile on his lips. “I’ll do that.”

“Over here are the bags. Please, for the love of god, make sure you have wrapped your hands correctly and wear gloves.” You grabbed some hand wrappings from the side. You showed him how to wind the wrappings correctly around the hand to ensure maximum protection. “You can just use the gloves or the wrapping on their own, but it’s just safer this way.”

Peter nodded. You unwound the wrappings from your hand, placing it securely on the side before moving towards the large boxing ring in the middle of the gym. Grabbing a hold of the rope surrounding the ring, you leaned your weight into it.

“This is the ring. We do a lot of our one on one training sessions there.”

“What are they like?”

“Brutal.” You huffed a laugh. “They cost extra, but if you have a problem paying, speak to Brett. He’s pretty good about that kind of thing.”

Peter’s eyes fell to the floor. Any enthusiasm you had seen from him earlier had evaporated, his posture deflating like a balloon. “I don’t exactly have a lot of money.”

You smiled, gesturing to the people dotted around the gym. “Do you think they do? Most of us do things to help him out instead. I run the front desk after school, Stacey manages the socials and Jackson cleans the gym after hours.”

“That’s really nice of him.” Peter perked up a bit, lifting his eyes from the floor.

“He’s a good guy.” A beat of silence passed, then two. “Or if you wanted, you could train with me.”

You wanted to draw the words back into your mouth; it was too late. Peter’s face lit up, and his lips moved to the closest thing resembling a smile. “Really?”

“Uh, I’m nowhere near as good as Brett, but maybe I could help you start off.”

“I’d really like that.” Peter shook his head vigorously. “Good, cool, that’s amazing, thank you.”

“Great, I’ll add you to the group chat. It just has some updates on the gym, that kind of thing.” Peter’s phone binged. He looked at the screen, a notification having popped up.

Peter P has been added to Brett’s Boxing Bitches.

“Brett’s Boxing Bitches?”

“Don’t tell Brett.”

~

It had been a few weeks since you’d offered to train Peter. You were half convinced he was trying to kill you. Initially you started on two sessions a week, next thing you knew, he wanted to practice every day after school. Your body was aching constantly but you didn’t care, it was all worth it to see the grief slowly ebb away from his face.

His stance was slowly improving. When starting boxing it can be a lot to take in, with the footwork, defence and attack all happening at once, but after a few sessions he was taking it into his stride. He was a quick learner.

“Okay,” you heaved a breath, wiping the sweat from your forehead. Your hands were securely in a pad on each hand, creases from where Peter’s punches landed appearing on the material. “Just make sure when you’re tired you don’t wind your punches back. The power comes from your arm, not from pulling it backwards.”

“Like this?” Peter demonstrated jabbing his arm out straight in front of him. You nodded.

“Much better. Winding back the punch can leave you exposed and you want to stay standing for as much of the fight as possible.” Peter shook his head up and down. “Are you ready for another go or do you want a break?”

“Let’s go one more time.”

“Okay, let’s just keep to the jabbing for now. Ready?”

Peter nodded, raising his gloved hands in the defence position by his jaw. His arm stretched out, hitting the pad. Your arm nearly came out of socket as he ploughed into the pad.

Slightly out of breath, you lowered the pads, smiling at him. “Great job.”

He hadn’t seemed to have noticed the lowered pads. One minute, you were standing upright, and the next second, you were staggering backwards. Agony exploded in your nose and wetness started to slip past your lips.

Peter instantly rushed to your aid, ripping the gloves off and waving a hand in front of your face. “Shit, are you okay?”

With a bright grin, you smiled up at him. “That was perfect!”

“Excuse me?” Peter’s brow quipped. He looked at you as you were slightly swaying on your feet, blood gushing from your nose. Despite the red flooding your chin you had a wide grin on your face.

“Your form was perfect!”

“Uh, thank you?”

“I’m pretty sure you broke my nose but it’s worth it.”

“Y/N I’m so sorry.”

“I’m proud of you!”

“We need to get you cleaned up.”

“Meh, I’ve had worse happen. Let’s try again.”

“Y/N!”

“Fine. I could have gone for another round but whatever.” You ducked out of the ring with Peter’s assistance, grabbing the first aid kit. He instructed you to sit down, which you did with a reluctant huff.

He pulled out the alcoholic wipes, ripping open the packaging.

“You have to admit, you’re a little bit proud.”

“I hurt you.” Peter began wiping the blood away from your face, the wipe coming back a bright red. A rush of pride soared through you at the sight - it was a sign he was improving.

“It was my fault, I lowered the pads.” You paused a teasing smirk appearing on your face. “Just remind me to wear a helmet next time.”

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

“And you’re a pain in my nose!” He stared at you blankly. “Too soon?”

His lips curled up at the sides.

“It’s nice when you smile, you should do it more often.”

“I’ve not had much to smile about these days.”

The pair of you fell silent. You could tell Peter was thinking about his uncle, just in the same way you were thinking about the loved one you had lost. It was strange the way grief can never lose its hold over you - it would never disappear, only weaken to the point where memories don’t feel like ripping open old wounds.

It hit you suddenly that you wanted Peter to know that it got better. Without realising it, you started to tell him about what happened to you. “Did I ever tell you that when I started here, I was in the exact same position as you? I was angry, getting into fights, drinking, smoking weed, one time I even got arrested.”

Peter froze, alcohol wipe dangling in his hand. “What changed?”

“Boxing. It was the perfect place to vent out my aggression. I miss them all the time, but now I know how to handle my grief.”

“By hitting a boxing bag?”

“Better than hitting a person.” You coughed. “Well, at least hitting someone out of the blue. You will punch someone every now and then but it comes with the sport.”

Peter nodded. You could sense his understanding. You watched as he pieced the pieces of the puzzle together, turning to you with a slack jaw. “You were the one who put the flyer in my locker.”

“Guilty.”

“Why?”

“Because I was like you. And I wanted to help.” Peter wiped the blood from your face, disposing of the wipes. He seemed to be lighter than he was that day in the hallway, making your heart swell. “He’d be proud of you.”

“Thank you…” he averted his gaze. He swallowed thickly. At that point you expected the conversation to be finished.

He looked up at you, a slight curl to his lips. “You broke the one rule of fight club.”

“Eh?”

“Don’t talk about fight club.”

A beat passed. A small laugh crept out of your mouth, and you hit him playfully. “You’re a nerd.”

“The I’m-Sorry-For-Being-a-Dick Bouquet”

TASM! Peter Parker

“Tighty Whiteys” Pt. 2

SUMMARY:Peter wholeheartedly regrets not coming back to Y/N’s apartment and tries his best to stay away for her sake. She continues to think of him as her career begins to take off. Spiderman sees her during a battle and has to make a deal for her safety.

TW:cursin’ n kissin’ n shi(PG-13)

WORD COUNT: 4768

-> Part One

Peter laid on his bed, staring mindlessly at the noisy fan that clicked away above him as he tried to fall asleep. He’d probably watched it spin around hundreds or thousands of times every night, trying to rid his mind of her. She lingered in his every waking thought and visited during his dreams.

“Jesus Christ,” He whispered, rubbing his hands on his face in aggravation. “Okay, stupid multiverse-god-thing. Very funny. She’s the one, I get it! Just let me sleep..”

He found himself thinking of her eyes and the way they darted around aimlessly as she talked as if they were following her train of thought. He thought about her voice and the way it got raspy as the night progressed and her drowsiness with it. He accidentally caused a small explosion at the lab earlier in the day because his mind was on her. Her plump lips; the way they moved when she spoke or, god, when she smiled.

He flipped onto his stomach and groaned into his pillow with frustration.

He wanted nothing more than to wait for her to return to the apartment and take him to her favorite diner in the city on that day. He felt his heart sink when he felt the familiar tingle, knowing he’d have to leave her stranded to chase after his newest enemy. He didn’t have time to leave a note. He had a responsibility to protect the innocent; it normally came with the cost of hurting or losing someone he loved. As much as he hated to admit it, as bad as he wanted her, he needed to stay away.

Butboy did he want her. His mind wouldn’t let him simply forget about the destiny written by the fates; the story of Spiderman and MJ, an inevitable romance that spanned through multiple universes, his being no exception. He wanted her to take him to the diner. He wanted to walk her home and kiss her sweetly before making plans for a second date. He wanted to fall for her. At times, he wanted to ignore his power and abandon his responsibility all in hopes of living a domestic and happy life with this woman.

But alas, the world didn’t stop turning for him; not in his darkest times, much less in the hopeful ones. Duty called. The Collector continued to wreak havoc on the city of New York, and Peter had no other option but to fight. Yet, he couldn’t help but wonder how she reacted when she arrived home.

Little did he know that after her meeting, she’d gone through the effort of ordering two of her usual coffee for the man who had painted the everlasting, smitten grin on her lips. She had gone through her day with a coy smile, anticipating and craving his presence. She rushed home, opening her apartment door to be greeted by a soul-shattering silence.

No number, no address, no way to contact the perfect man she had woken up next to only a few hours prior. She’d searched every room, hoping the sinking feeling in her stomach would be replaced by the warm one she’d felt that same morning but there was nothing but her usual empty and silent apartment. Her smile faded and eyes blurred, left with no other option but to drink both coffees and move on with the day.

It had been almost two weeks now since their interaction. He’d seen her at the scenes of The Collector’s attacks, observing Spider-man’s every move and defending him mercilessly in her New York Times column; The Daily Herald. He’d make it a point to pick it up every morning on his way to work and read it on the train ride. Her words were piercing and revolutionary, changing the minds of thousands of citizens a day. It seemed that as time carried on, Peter noticed more and more pedestrians reading and talking about her articles.

He sighed, looking at the clock. Sleep now weighed heavily on his lids as his thoughts slowed to a single image; her. Y/N was engraved into his mind; he saw her vividly every time his eyes fluttered shut. And with that, he slowly drifted into a restless slumber, unaware that she laid under the same sky with the same striking memory replaying on a loop in her own mind.

———

The city had been quieter than usual; everyone hid away in the safety of their own home in fear of being caught in The Collector’s terrorizing paralysis. Tourists mostly steered clear of New York, and those who had the privilege of working from home rarely dared to leave their apartments. The attacks were more frequent and deadly. declining in morality at the villain’s mind declined in its strange illness.

Y/N mindlessly stared at the pedestrians who rushed past the cafe window. She was meant to be writing the next day’s article. Though it was a seemingly impossible task with the endless daydreams and memories of the night spent with a perfect stranger. She’d never quite managed to rid her mind of him completely.

She rarely remembered her dreams yet couldn’t seem to forget the one she woke from that same morning. His warm brown eyes, his soft chuckle, the tint of his blushing cheeks, the shape of his lips, the way he said her name- it was all the same.

The beginnings of rain snapped her out of her thoughts. She smiled as it began to sprinkle the fast-paced crowd outside, watching as some children held their arms up and stuck their tongues out before being ushered off by their parents. For a split second, it felt like the same city again; bustling with life and noise. It felt like home again.

The moment was interrupted by a loud crash, and suddenly the sweet scene from just seconds before melted into disarray. The same kids she watched happily embrace the rain were now being pulled into buildings by their mothers. A crowd of people ran down the street in blind chaos, screaming so loud that the windows rattled.

“‘Scuse me! Comin’ through!” She heard someone yell before seeing the familiar red vigilante sprint past the window. He shot a web and launched himself forward, sending him out of sight.

The Collector, she thought as she closed her laptop and quickly stuffed it in her bag before running outside. She only caught a small glimpse of the battle before it moved out of sight, it seemed that the enemy kept developing new weapons; this time it was a motorcycle that sped effortlessly between crowds and buildings. She followed the screams and ran against the swarm of panicked pedestrians, paying little mind to the mayhem.

She kept seeing glimpses of red turn corners, missing the majority of the action. She sprinted at full speed at this point, knowing damn well the danger she was putting herself in but putting the thought aside for the opportunity to write about a first-hand Spiderman experience. The adrenaline kept her legs moving and thoughts silenced for a few more minutes before she finally slowed down.

She turned another corner, only to see a frozen congregation of people that looked like something from a River Styx painting. She stopped in her tracks, backing behind a wall before deciding on whether or not to proceed. Then she saw it; Spiderman holding the watch in his hand as The Collector yanked at the makeshift web cuffs on his wrists to no avail. The motorcycle was dangling to the building above.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” The older man chuckled, shooting his foe a bone-chilling grin. “This would’ve all been over by now if you killed me when you had the chance.”

“It could’ve been prevented if you would’ve just listened to me,” Spiderman spoke up, breathing heavily with anger and despair. “The cure wasn’t worth the madness. The old you would’ve preferred death over the man you’ve become.”

“Kill me,“ He purred, smiling like the Cheshire cat. “Or I will personally see to your loved ones’ deaths. Starting with that old-“

A web suddenly covered his mouth. The Collector’s eyes widened before he squirmed around and screamed.

“What was that? Starting with who?” Spiderman asked, stepping closer to his muffled words and cupping his ear. “Just a little louder, man. I can’t quite understand you.”

He fumbled a bit with the watch for a moment as the wailing sirens grew closer. The silence burst into screams and the sounds of a stampede, civilians running every which way. Y/N could no longer hear the conversation but watched as Spiderman walked up to the man and whispered something in his ear, causing The Collector to fall still. She dared to step out from behind the wall, trying to hear what was being said.

It was no use trying to run against the roaring crowd. She felt people slam into her and shove her out of the way as she attempted to approach her targets. The sirens grew deafening as she halted to a stop, giving up any chance of getting close before the cops ushered her away.

The masked man looked to his left to see the cop cars begin to swarm in. That’s when he saw her. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the woman standing amid the paranoid mob that ran against her. He dared not look for too long, not wanting to give any hint of recognition.

“Well, that’s my cue,” Spiderman nodded toward the cops before shooting a web up towards a nearby skyscraper. “I meant what I said. Behave.”

“Wait!” Y/N stepped forward only to see him fly into the sky once again. “I-.. And you’re gone. Great.”

“Out of the way!” The cops called as they shoved people away from the man in web constraints.

“How many times have we told you that you can’t be at these scenes, Y/L/N?” A familiar cop barked, grabbing at her shoulders to pull her away. She turned to see that it was the chief of police, an old friend of her father’s. “It’s dangerous. You can get a quote later.”

“Chief Johnson, it’s part of-“

“Your job, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard your spiel before. It’s my job to clear the premises so get the fuck out of here!” He rolled his eyes, shoving her towards the cop cars. She looked back at The Collector as a cop recited his rights and cuffed him. “MJ! Go!”

“Fine! I’m gone,” She held up her hands defensively before turning on her heels. “Damn, who pissed in your fucking cereal this morning?”

“Don’t you have something better to write about?” He called after her. She stopped in her tracks. “He’s a menace to society!”

“He hasn’t killed anyone so what does that make you?” She asked, shrugging with her hands before turning to leave.

Y/N rolled her eyes as she turned the corner. She hated cops, but specifically the ones on Johnson’s crew. He used to be someone she was fond of until she found out about all of the injustice and corruption that he and his coworkers partook in.

“Fucking pig.”

———

After returning to the cafe, Y/N spent the next few hours writing and perfecting the article, making sure to explain the events that unfolded only hours before. She lost track of time, only leaving when the barista informed her that they’d be closing soon.

The streets were bustling with people celebrating the newfound freedom that came from The Collector’s imprisonment. She smiled at the lively crowds that gathered in the East Village, giggling at the people who decided to sport Spiderman masks. New York City was restored to its buoyant state.

She took the usual train home and walked a few blocks towards her apartment, opting to take a shortcut through the same alley she’d found Peter in.

The city’s sounds were muffled in the dark space; it was instead filled with the echo of her footsteps bouncing off of the dirty walls and rusty trash cans. She walked for a few minutes before realizing that she heard a second pair of footsteps behind hers. Taking a quick glance over her shoulder, she noticed the silhouette of a familiar skintight bodysuit.

“You’re that Daily Herald journalist,” The voice from earlier spoke. “Y/L/N, right?”

“Depends,” She adjusted her backpack as she turned to face him. “Who’s asking?”

She heard a breathy chuckle before he walked into the light, showing off his brilliant red suit.

“Just figured I’d say thank you. Before your column, most people saw me as a threat. But tonight.. I’ve never seen so many-”

“Fans?” She suggested.

“Well, I was going to say Spidermen in one place,” He chuckled once more. “But I like the sound of fans a lot better.”

She smiled. “Well, it’s no problem. I’m just writing the truth. It’s part of the job.”

“Is it part of the job to follow me around too?” He questioned.

“Oh, that? No, that’s just for fun,” She deadpanned before laughing. The man chuckled. “So did you really go through the trouble of finding out where I live just to thank me and ask if I was following you around?”

“Actually no. My main purpose of coming out here was to tell you to be careful,” He continued, making her furrow her brows. “Look, I don’t want you getting hurt on my behalf. Stop following me, alright?”

“And lose my job? Pass. But I appreciate the concern,” She turned to leave before a web blocked her path.

“I’m serious. Just-.. Be more careful. There have been lesser-known journalists that have died for less. If I see you in the middle of a fight again, I’ll have to web you to a wall or something,” He said sternly, making her smile.

“Web me to a wall?! No, please, Spiderman! I promise to stop following you around!” She cried out sarcastically. “How was that?”

“How was the acting or comedic presentation?”

“Both.”

“It was god awful,” He answered nonchalantly, making her chuckle. “What do I have to do to get you to stop following me?”

“Meet me here every night and tell me about your battles.”

“No way,” He protested. “Do you have any idea how much danger I put you in just by visiting tonight?”

She narrowed her eyes in thought before pulling her backpack off of her shoulder and taking out a small business card.

“Email me then,” She said, holding out the card. He looked down at her hand. “I can’t afford to lose this job. So it’s either this or I keep following you around.”

“You want me to report back to you after every battle?” He grumbled, looking back at her. She raised her brows, waving the card. He hesitantly took it. “Even the nightly patrols?”

“You do nightly patrols?” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t know that. But, yeah, that’d be ideal. If you can’t get around to it though, I’d settle for a weekly update.”

“Okay, deal,” He said after a brief moment of consideration. “You sure it won’t cause any tension between you and a boyfriend?”

“I’m sure he won’t mind, considering he’s nonexistent,” She smiled again before shrugging, choosing to ignore the inquisitive, flirtatious tone. “Currently too busy being caught up on someone I met once to fall for somebody new.”

Peter felt his breath hitch in his throat at the confession. She was talking about him. Not only that, but she rejected what she thought was another man because she liked him. He felt a hot blush graze his cheeks, grateful for the opportunity to be able to hide behind a mask as he heard that, and simply nodded.

“But I should probably get inside to finish up tomorrow’s story,” She continued. “If you could email me at least every Thursday so I have the weekend to work on an article, that’d be great.”

“Will do,” He said, not quite being able to wipe the smile off of his masked face as he watched her sling her backpack on again.

“Nice to finally meet you, Spidey,” She said before walking off, turning back to flash him that heart-melting smile before disappearing behind the corner. “I expect to hear about today’s fight!”

———

Peter smiled as he read the morning paper, reading a direct quote from the email he’d sent the previous night. He had to go to four different places to finally get The Times; the entirety of New York seemed to be carrying around, reading or talking about The Daily Herald.

“Hey, man,” His favorite coworker greeted as he walked into the laboratory’s downstairs cafeteria. “Ah, catching up on The Daily Herald, I see?”

“Hey. Yeah, me and everyone else it seems like,” Peter said, looking around at the people holding their phones or the paper, all reading or talking about the previous day’s events.

“Crazy fight, huh?” Caleb continued with a big grin, setting down his lunch and mimicking Spider-man’s web shooting stance. “I saw it in person! He was all Wa Pow and Ha Ya!”

“You didn’t see it, did you?”

“Not even a glimpse,” He smirked, taking his usual seat in front of him. “But that article was crazy, dude. Reading it made it feel like I was there. I think she even incorporated a Wa Pow in there and everything.”

“I see you didn’t skip out on your Adderall this morning,” Peter chuckled.

“Oh, fuck off,” Caleb laughed, before looking around at their coworkers in the cafeteria. “Feels like I stepped into some weird time portal. I don’t remember the last time I saw so many newspapers in one room.”

“Hey, I have a favor to ask,” Peter said, setting down the paper next to him and earning a hummed response from his friend. “You think you can cover for me for the rest of the day? There’s this girl that I really like and I found out that she-“

“If I say yes, will you spare me your love life details? I don’t need to know about another one of your casual hookups,” He sighed. Peter chuckled; he rarely ever had hookups. It was mostly an excuse to get out of work or other activities to go fight crime.

“It’s not a hookup, actually,” He corrected, making his friend’s jaw drop dramatically.

“You mean my horniest friend decided to put his trashy whore days behind him? Did you like suddenly become religious?” Caleb asked. “Oh my god… Are you dying?”

“What? No, I’m not dying,” Peter rolled his eyes. “Remember that girl I told you about? The one that patched me up after I got jumped?”

He might’ve stretched the truth a little on that too.

“Shut up. You’re actually gonna go back?” Grey leaned in, soaking in the gossip. “I knew you would! Yeah, I’ll cover for you. We’re waiting on a shipment so they’ll probably let us off early anyway.”

“Oh, dude, I owe you one!” Peter grinned before frantically gathering his things into his bag. “I could kiss you!”

Peter practically ran out of the building after he changed into his suit. He shot a web to a nearby skyscraper before launching himself into the air and heading towards the East Village. He stopped only a few blocks away from her building to change his clothes before walking up the familiar streets. He passed a small flower stand, leaving a twenty as he grabbed a set of purple flowers. “Keep the change!”

He finally made his way up to her apartment building, catching the door as someone exited and walking up the stairs to the fourth floor, stopping at the third apartment on the left.

This was it.

He took a deep breath, preparing something to say before he raised his hand up to her door to knock, only to be greeted with it flying open and a gasp.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Y/N yelped, holding her hand to her heart. She looked up at the man standing before her with a smile, holding the flowers up. Her features softly melted into an expression of amused disbelief. “.. Peter?”

“Hi,” He greeted softly.

“What are you doing here?” She furrowed her brows, a hint of a smile teasing at the corners of her lips. “Wait- how’d you get up here?”

“Caught the door as someone was leaving,” He pointed behind him, looking into her Y/E/C eyes that danced back and forth between his own. “Can I come in?”

“I, uh.. Yeah, yeah, come in,” She stepped aside, granting him access. “I only have about twenty minutes though, I have to catch a meeting.”

“Yeah, okay,” He nodded, looking into her ever-moving eyes.

“So… did you come here for something or..?” She shifted her weight uncomfortably in the silence.

“Yeah, I just.. Y/N, I’m so sorry for leaving that day,” He began, making her eyebrows raise in surprise. “Look, I know you must think I’m a dick for the way I left. I feel like a dick for leaving you hanging without so much as an explanation. And I’ll gladly give you one if you want, but I just wanted to apologize. Oh, and these are for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” She laughed as he handed them to her, lifting them up to her nose and taking in their scent. “I love lavender. Thank you. Let me put them in water, I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable.”

He smiled and nodded before she walked away. He felt a shift in the way she looked and spoke to him. Not that he blamed her for it, he’d probably have his walls up too after his little disappearing stunt, but it was kind of heartbreaking to see the once warm and present gaze now a little colder and more distant. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, hoping he didn’t fuck things up past repair.

He took in the apartment, noticing the guitar that now sat outside of its case. She got a new set of candles and a different couch, but everything else remained the same. The warm scent of vanilla wafted through the air and the posters hung happily in their places. He took a seat on the couch as she came back into the room with two glasses of water.

“Thanks,” He smiled at her graciousness. She looked at him as if she was skeptical it was all a dream; he looked at her as if he never wanted to wake up.

“It’s comfy, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, taking a seat next to him and putting down her glass on the sturdy coffee table before shifting to look at him.

“Yeah. I like the green,” He asked, looking down at the velvet couch. “Does this one get stuck too?”

“No, that’s kind of the point of a new couch,” She teased. “That’s more of a DIY project called ‘my friends are drunk idiots’. I donated that old thing.”

“Ah,” He smiled before looking up at her. “Bummer.”

She raised her brows, giggling slightly at his flirtatious comment before looking over his shoulder at the clock. Her face fell slightly as her eyes settled on his once again.

“What?” He asked, following her gaze. “You have to leave?”

“I should leave soon, yeah. I have this important meeting with my boss. I should probably get my stuff together,” She pursed her lips, placing a sympathetic hand on his wrist and getting up.

“Oh, yeah,” He nodded, hiding his disappointment as he stood up. “No problem. I can just-”

“Peter, can I ask you a question?” She blurted out, turning towards him.

“Yeah, of course,” He nodded, sensing the shift of tone.

“What changed?” Her own disappointment was on display now.

“What changed? What do you mean?” He tilted his head slightly.

“Why are you here?” She furrowed her brows, watching as he took a deep breath. “I mean it’s been two weeks. Why today?”

“Honestly? I-.. I can’t stop thinking about you,” He admitted, chuckling nervously. “And I’ve tried to stop but.. Y/N, you’re the first thing on my mind when I wake up. I can’t get the thought of you out of my head throughout the day either; wondering what you’re doing or if you’re staying safe. I pick up The Times every morning to read your column. Hell, I can barely sleep knowing that your apartment is only a few stops away from mine. I guess I realized that maybe the reason I couldn’t stop thinking about you is because I don’t wanna stop. I just had to see you again.”

She smiled at his sweet confession and his nervous demeanor. He moved his hands frantically as he spoke, running them through his hair when he stumbled on words, his voice gently and nervously pleading for her forgiveness. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” He responded softly, glancing down to her lips quickly before looking back into her eyes. He swore he could melt on the spot when she looked at him like that.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either,” She took a step forward, making him let out a breathy chuckle of relief and excitement.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Mhm,” She hummed slowly.

“And why’s that?” He took another step forward, closing the distance between them. His eyes locked onto her upturned lips.

“I think you know why,” She said softly, feeling him place his hand on her left hip.

“Maybe,” He whispered, now only mere centimeters from her face. She felt his hot breath rhythmically hit her top lip. “But I wanna hear you say it.”

“I like you, Peter,” She breathed, biting her lip. His name has never sounded so sweet. He smiled and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear before caressing her cheek. When his eyes made their way back to hers, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer; he leaned down and kissed her.

She was intoxicating. Her lips were softer than he imagined, and they moved in perfect harmony with his own, fitting flawlessly like the last piece of a puzzle. He felt her smile into the kiss before pulling him in closer to deepen it.

Never in his life had he felt a kiss like this one. The passion was electric, sending shock waves down his spine. He never believed in soulmates, not even after hearing the other Peter Parkers talk about their MJs, not even after he met his own. But this. This kiss, this moment, this woman; it all began to disprove his personal belief system.

He never believed in fate or destiny, but he wanted nothing more than for this, her, to be written in his future. It was no coincidence that in every realm of the universe, they were meant to find each other. He finally understood the gravitational pull she had on his mind; no matter how badly he fought against it, it was written in the stars. It was now beyond him.

“Mm, I really.. need to go,” She giggled in between kisses, only to be pulled back in by the delightfully dazed man she was entangled to. “Peter.. I’m serious.”

“Okay, okay,” He smiled dreamily as he pulled away. “Wait, one more.”

He leaned down and gently kissed her before they laughed against each other’s lips.

“What time are you free tonight?” He murmured, placing his forehead against her own.

“Well, unless Spiderman decides to get into some mischief, 7:00,” She smiled.

“I’ll personally see to it that he doesn’t,” He half-joked, making her chuckle as she pulled away to grab her purse. “Can I take you out to dinner?”

“Depends,” She smirked, opening her door. He followed behind her and walked towards the elevator. “Where were you thinking?”

“Either my favorite place or yours,” He responded as she pressed the button to go down. She smiled as he pulled her in by the hips. “What’re you up for? Chinese or that diner you were telling me about?”

“Chinese actually sounds heavenly,” She threw her head back in desire, making him laugh.

“Chinese it is,” He nodded as the elevator door opened. She hesitantly pulled away before he gently grabbed her wrist and guided her back into him, kissing her softly one final time. “I’ll be here at 7:00.”

“It’s a date,” She smiled before they walked out of the building and went their separate ways, smiling like idiots with a seemingly everlasting blush that lingered on their cheeks for the rest of the afternoon.

————

@zellieanne@lauraneedstochill@andrew-garfield-is-my-mj@celestialevie@captainbarness@musicconversedance@garfieldphobic@kdatthecastle@mitchloveswriting@sunsetswervedd@enigmaticsal@levylovegood@cosmistake@aubreylovesthegames@fruehlings-gefuehl@todaywasafairytale07@darkbarbariancherryblossom@selftitledficconnoisseur@scarlettels@acciosiriusblack@mypalbuck@galacticstxrdust@beesunhinged@im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11@sirenphrynne

“Tighty Whiteys”

TASM Peter Parker

SUMMARY: Takes place after Peter returned from the multiverse. Though he survived New City’s newest villain, he felt the weight of the life claimed. In the midst of a breakdown, he meets a young woman who offers her assistance.

TW: none really? cursing

WORD COUNT: 6500

The only sound down the dark alleyway was that of an offbeat pair of footsteps. They echoed as he limped home in the soft, cool Autumn wind. Having survived the battle meant nothing to him knowing that someone didn’t get so lucky. His thoughts circulated like a storm in his mind; quick, loud, unavoidable. So much so that the typical New York City ambience was drowned out by his anxiety ridden mind and the sound of his limp.

His ribs throbbed from the bleeding gash that now decorated them. A deep breath sat at the forefront of his mind, teasing him with the relief of the mindful action. It was, however, impossible with the injuries to his chest and the impending panic attack that loomed above him.

A child was the newest victim of New York’s newest enemy. The city named him The Collector, seeing as he always took something from his victims. He used a device on his wrist to freeze everyone around him. Everyone except for Peter. He watched as he grabbed a little boy. He watched the fear of his mother, terrorized by the sight, forced to watch because of the temporary paralysis. Peter fought. And he failed.

It had been years since anyone has terrorized the city in this way. It had been years since he needed to suit up for anything other than his nightly patrol. Even then, he only needed to fight off common criminals and saving the people of New York. Not long after Gwen died, the city’s overwhelming chaos and villains did too.

He missed those days.

He missed her.

Tap tap… Tap tap… Tap tap…

The soft sound of his limp was deafening. It sounded like a line from a dreary blank verse poem; one of war, loss, and heartbreak. It was evidence of the failed mission. He grunted, trying desperately to correct the limp to no avail.

The sounded echoed is his mind. It was a sick reminder of the night’s previous events; of the fact that his best effort no longer being as effective as it once was.

His thoughts now swelled like the dark clouds of a storm; the wind deafening. His surroundings disappeared into the anxiety induced tunnel vision. He finally let out a frustrated scream as he fell to his knees. He felt the weight of the child’s life, the weight of the mother’s scream fall onto him. He openly sobbed at the bitter memory.

In the midst of his cries, he failed to hear the woman above him open up her window and step onto the fire escape.

“Are you okay?” She spoke up hesitantly. He looked up to see her climbing down the fire escape. He wiped his tears as she landed on the floor and walked over to him. She looked at the broken man in front of her and looked down in concern; his eyes refused to meet her own. “Should I call an ambulance?”

“No,” He grumbled. “I can’t afford to go to the hospital. I’m fine. It looked worse than it is.”

A silence fell upon the two of them. He was grateful he changed into his regular clothes beforehand, not wanting to be seen in this state as Spiderman. The adrenaline that aided him in the process was now completely drained from his body.

She shifted and grabbed her backpack to pull something out. He kept his gaze on her hands, skeptical of the stranger before him.

She smiled, handing him a bottle of water. He furrowed his brows and looked up. That’s when he caught a glimpse of her beautiful features. Her warm gaze felt like the sun after a weeklong storm; relieving, happy, bright. His breath hitched out of sheer surprise; her beauty was unique and magnetic. He looked down at the bottle and gently grabbed it from her hand.

“I’d offer you an alcoholic drink but you don’t look like you’re in any condition to handle dehydration,” She continued to speak softly, as if trying not to spook him. He sensed a genuine kindness. “I worked as a CNA to get me through college. I’m pretty good with stitches if you want me to-”

“Didn’t your mom never teach you not to talk to strangers?” Peter mumbled as he opened the bottle to take a sip. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone, regardless of how melodic her voice was or how sweet her doe eyed gaze was.

“She didn’t get the chance to,” The stranger shrugged. This caught his attention; he slowly lowered the bottle from his lips as she continued to talk. “She died when I when I was young. My dad, on the other hand, taught me several lessons. Keeping my ass off of the New York City concrete was one of them. You would not believe the amount of times I’ve seen someone puke in that exact spot.”

His face twisted up in disgust as he looked down. Sure enough, the patch of pavement he sat on was stained a questionable color. She giggled and extended her arm towards him to help me up.

“Gross,” He muttered, as he took her hand. “Ignorance is bliss sometimes. Thank you for that.”

“It got you off the floor, didn’t it?” She smirked. He smiled halfheartedly and shrugged. “Um.. so I’m sure your mom taught you not to go home with a stranger, but can I take you up to my apartment and patch you up?”

He hesitated, looking into her eyes. It was too dark to see exactly what color they were but light enough to see the concern on her face. He sighed before nodding. She perked up slightly before reaching for his arm. She began slowly lifting it to wrap around her shoulder, wanting to ease his limp as his crutch.

“Wait, wait,” He said quickly. She froze, looking at him with wide eyes. “Other side, I don’t think I can lift this arm.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” She winced, moving to his other side. She repeated the motion, and let him share his weight in order to walk him into the building and the old elevator. They walked in silence until they reached the fourth floor. The elevator dinged and she guided him to the third apartment on the left. He watched as she fumbled with your keys a bit before finally opening the door. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

He looked around at his surroundings. The apartment was small but it was charming nonetheless. She had candles burning on the coffee table and vintage art covering the walls. He heard a soft tune playing from the record player in the corner of the room and recognized it; it was as if the lyrics were on the top of his tongue. The quaint ambience of the living room was relaxing. He was surprised he hasn’t felt a sense of danger. If anything, his senses were telling him the opposite; this felt like a safe haven.

He watched as she paced around her apartment, gathering different little medical tools into a bag until she finally plopped down on the sturdy coffee table in front of him.

“I’m gonna cut your shirt off,” She said nonchalantly. His brows furrowed uncomfortably. “You bled through it so I’m assuming I should start there. Or you can lift your arms up to take it off yourself. But I assume that’s not an option so..”

She picked up the scissors and snipped at the air with a facetious smile. He fought back one of his own. Her sweet demeanor was a nice change of pace; it was rare in this city. He hated to admit it to himself, especially after the awful events that happened not even an hour before, but he was utterly intrigued by this woman. She was unlike anyone he’s ever met before.

He pressed his tongue against his cheek, accepting the challenge. She raised her brows and sat back, knowing that it would be nearly impossible to do with the amount of blood on his shirt. He went to lift his arms and hissed in pain, clenching his eyes. When he opened them, he caught her already looking him in the eye with an amused smile.

“You must really like that shirt,” She teased, making him smile slightly. Something about the way she said that reminded him of Gwen. “Do I have your permission to cut it off now?“

He nodded and she got to work. He watched as she cut away carefully. Once she successfully peeled his shirt off, he noticed a small blush arise on her cheeks at the sight of him. He couldn’t help but smile, raising his eyebrows when she looked up at him. She cleared her throat with a small smile of her own before turning away to grab the small medical bag beside her.

Peter found it hard to look away. She wasn’t trying to flirt, but the subconscious coy smile that decorated her features made her irresistible. She played her embarrassment off well, making him even doubt the hint of attraction she just displayed.

“This is going to hurt a little bit,” Her eyes finally met his again. He nodded.

“I think I can candle a little bit of- FUCKEN HELL OW?!” He hissed as the alcohol hit his gash. She scrunched her nose and muttered an apology. “A little bit?!”

“Ahh, I know, I know. I’m sorry! Almost done,” She squinted her eyes with sympathy before finishing off disinfecting the wound to the best of her ability. He sighed in relief when he saw her lean back, watching as she dug through the small bag again.

The woman gathered the materials needed to stitch up the wound, feeling his gaze burn into her as she picked out the respective instruments. She looked up to see that his warm, brown eyes danced all over her face. It was as if he would be forced to draw her features from memory. She couldn’t recall the last time someone had looked at her like that.

“Stop that,” She ordered, looking at him through her eyelashes for a split second before she adjusted herself near the wound. She steadied to hands to begin the procedure.

“Stop what?” He chuckled. His laugh was soft and boyish, making her chuckle and look up at him.

“The staring,” She said as sternly as she could, not quite being able to shake the same coy smile from earlier.

“Ah. I’m sorry,” Peter grinned, looking up. She chuckled at his exaggerated movement before positioning herself once again. She took a breath, glancing up only to catch his eyes on her. He attempted to play it off by looking away.

“I’m serious! I can’t focus with you looking at me like that,” She shook her head, not bothering to move from the perfect position she attained.

“Yeah, no, that was my bad. Sorry,” He drew in his bottom lip in an attempt to stop smiling. His eyes began roaming the room once again, taking in details he hadn’t spotted on first glance. The wall opposite of him was decorated neatly with several small posters; her favorite bands and artists. His lips parted at the sight, taken aback at the similarity in his own music taste. He began listening to the music playing from your record player, it was something he’d never heard before but right up his ally. “I like this song. Who’s playing?”

“Oh, uh, my old band. I played guitar for them throughout high school and part of college. What you’re hearing is our third album I think,” She recalled nonchalantly. He looked at her with wide eyes. “Wait, stop moving. I’m almost done.”

“You expect me not to move after you told me that you’re in a band? That’s so cool!” Peter beamed, making her giggle. “What did you play?”

“Guitar,” She mumbled as she focused on the project at hand. She paused every once and a while to look up and him and further explain. He found himself longing for those beautiful eyes to meet his when she looked back at his ribs; missing them the way one would miss water in a state of dehydration. “We never went anywhere with it though. It kinda just for shits and giggles. We’d play at nightclubs and small venues. But we all hated the idea of becoming famous so we kept it pretty lowkey. I’d hate to be in the public eye. Seems like a lot of pressure.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” He mumbled, making a face. He knew all too well how much pressure it could be. “Did you ever sing?”

“Sometimes,” She mindlessly shared as she finished up the stitches. “Every blue moon, our lead singer would get sick so I’d step in. But I’ve always hated singing in front of people. I honestly don’t know how he did it. He was damn good at it too. He had this personality that completely captivated the audience and this voice that gave us the most unique edge.”

“I can hear that,” He nodded, listening to the soft rock play in the background. A comfortable silence fell upon the two as they listened to the song.

“All done,” She perked up, tossing the tools into a plastic bag. “Are your legs alright? No cuts?”

“You want me to take off my pants too?” Peter raised his brow, making her fumble with the bag in her hand.

“What? No! I mean, not like that. I wouldn’t ask you to-.. You want to borrow a shirt? Let me get you a shirt,” She stuttered, getting up and rushing off as quickly as she spoke. He refrained from laughing as he watched her disappear into what he assumed was her room. “Is a t-shirt alright?!” She called after a moment.

“Yeah, that’s fine!” He spoke up, admiring the room once more. There was a beautiful tapestry to his left and a small TV in front of it. He saw two guitar cases on the floor and smiled at the thought of her playing the instruments inside of them. In front of him, the coffee table was scattered with guitar picks, strings, and music that she’d been writing.

He felt his body healing already; one of the perks of a radioactive spider bite. He leaned forward, wincing a bit as he reached for a piece of music. He couldn’t understand the notes but he found himself in awe of the lyrics. It was about war, loss, and heartbreak. He blinked away the shock, sensing her standing at the doorway.

“I’m not nearly as musical as I seem,” Her soft voice commented, walking towards him to hand him a black t-shirt. He smiled and gently took the shirt from her hands, grazing them ever so slightly as he did. She paused for a second, trying to conceal the fact that her head was spinning at the touch. “I, uh, had one of my old bandmates come over this morning. We were just messing around with this stuff. Before today, I actually hadn’t played in like.. Pft, eight months now?”

“And here I was thinking you were cool,” He teased, making her let out a breathy chuckle. He carefully put on the oversized t-shirt, only now seeing a familiar yellow smiley face. “Okay, I revoke that comment. You like Nirvana?”

“My dad was a big fan of theirs. He actually went to so many of their shows that Kurt knew him by name,” She chuckled. “So when my mom got pregnant, my dad asked the band what my middle name should be. The story goes that they all sat in silence for a minute, watching my dad take a drag off a joint they were all sharing in an alleyway. Then Kurt smiled and said Mary Jane. So my name’s Y/N Mary Jane Y/L/N.”

“M-Mary Jane?” Peter’s breath got caught in his throat. You furrowed your brows.

“Yeah?” You chuckled, taking a seat in front of him again. “My stage name was MJ because I thought it was much cooler than Y/N.“

“Huh,” He mumbled. His mind began racing with thoughts; the experience he had in the multiverse and the other Peters’ lovers. If she was MJ- his MJ, it’d explain the spark; the magnetic and unavoidable chemistry between the two. That would explain why her personality felt like it was made for his and why her presence felt so safe. They were meant for one another; in this life and millions before, during, and after.

“You’ve got a cut on your brow,” Y/N squinted, leaning in to look at the cut. His breath hitched in his throat once more; the faint scent of her shampoo wafted past him. “Want me to start there or on your leg? Because I think your knee is bleeding.“

“I-..” He muttered. How was he supposed to act knowing he was meant to be hers? How was he meant to act casually knowing that a future was already decided on by the fates? His mind raced at the speed of light; far too fast for him to utter a sentence, let alone keep up a conversation. It wasn’t until he saw Y/N’s head tilt slightly that he realized he was gawking. “Legs.”

“Yeah, I can do..” She trailed off. “Are you okay? Do you have a concussion?”

Before he got the chance to respond, she was flashing a small light at his eyes to check.

“I’m fine,” He chuckled.

“What’s your name?” She questioned skeptically as she put the light down.

“Peter,” He smiled. “Peter Parker.”

“What year were you born?”

“1995.”

“Where are you from, Peter Parker?”

“Queens. Want my social security while we’re at it?” He responded, making her roll her eyes.

His name never sounded so sweet before. He liked the way her lips moved as she said his name, it was as if she couldn’t say it without a smile. He especially liked the way her voice slightly jumped up in pitch when she said the first syllable of each word; Peter Parker.

“Okay, smart ass,” She shook her head, putting away the small collection of medical equipment. “You want my help or not?”

“Yes!” He said a little too quickly. Though she only glanced up for a split second, he still spotted the smug look that now painted her face. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m in rapid fire interrogation mode.”

“Right,” She dragged out the word, making him blush slightly as he let out another small chuckle. “Okay, wanna take off your pants so I can have a look at that knee?”

Peter licked his lips, holding back another audacious remark. He began to unbutton his jeans, pausing when he realized Y/N didn’t bother to go to the next room. He simply raised his brows. She looked up from cleaning up the area surrounding her.

“What? Want me to cover my eyes?” She smiled, placing her delicate hands on her face to hide behind them. He chuckled before taking off his shoes and pants, throwing them onto his bag when he was done. He looked down at his underwear and silently thanked his past self for deciding to wear a pair of boxer briefs under his suit today.

“Damn, Parker. Are you taking off your pants or sewing new ones?“ Y/N groaned, slouching for that she could rest her elbows on her thighs.

“I’m done, I’m done,” He chuckled as he sat back down in front of her. She peaked behind her fingers before looking down at his knee. A deep scrape adorned Peter’s leg, a bruise already teasing at the surface around it.

“Shit,” She whispered before looking up at him. “You really got the shit beaten out of you, huh?”

“You have no idea,” He chuckled dryly, looking down. She got the memo and changed the subject.

“This isn’t as bad as your ribs. I think we might be able to get away with cleaning it and wrapping it in gauze,” She said before moving on. Just as the sensation of the alcohol burned into the wound, she found herself empathetically scrunching her nose at the sound of Peter’s groan. “I know, I know. That’s the worst of it, I promise. It’s been a while since I’ve had to do this for someone outside of the hospital setting. I used to have to patch my brother up all of the time as kids. I know a thing or two about patching up the underdog.”

“What makes you think I’m the underdog?” Peter smiled. She giggled softly as she reached back for something. He paid no mind to the object in her small hands; he was utterly captivated by the way she spoke and carried on conversation. Something about it all felt so familiar to him.

“I don’t know,” She shrugged, placing the gauze onto the wound carefully. He noticed the fact that she no longer minded his gaze. In fact, she looked up with every other word to catch glimpse of it. “You don’t give me bad guy vibes.”

“Oh yeah?” He chuckled. “What if I told you was the baddest of all guys?”

“I’d call bullshit,” She deadpanned and motioned over to his backpack with her head. “Bad guys don’t decorate their backpacks with enamel pins.”

“Oh,” He felt his cheeks warm at sight of the SK8R CAT pin he’d recently added to the small collection of dorky pins that adorned the old bag. She let out a breathy chuckle at his reaction. Dear god, that laugh was intoxicating.

“So why’d you stop playing guitar?” He asked lightheartedly, expecting the woman in front of him to light up at the chance to talk about her obvious passion. Much to his surprise, her face fell and hands paused. It took her aback. “Oh shit. I don’t mean to pry-“

“No, no, it’s fine,” She responded quickly before flashing him a small smile. “I just wasn’t expecting the question is all.. Uh, my brother was our lead singer and he died last year. He got into this huge car crash on the way back from my college graduation. After that, the band unanimously decided to put those days behind us. It just wasn’t the same without his vocals, you know? We played one last time at our drummer and bassist’s wedding.”

“I’m so sorry,” He muttered after a moment of silence. He watched Y/N shrug, keeping her eyes down as she finished up the wrapping. “I mean I don’t think I can really relate to the pain of losing a sibling but losing people you love is just..”

“Fucking awful, huh?” She finished, smiling softly as she finally looked back into his eyes. He raised his brows and nodded. “It’s like your whole world crashes and burns yet everyone still goes on. You hate how the real world just continues and refuses to stop to grieve with you. Then you grow to appreciate it being one constant in your life; the city. The sirens and yelling have become this sort of.. comforting white noise that I can’t sleep without? I don’t know.”

“Yeah, no, I actually get that,” He sighed, readjusting slowly into the couch. “I lost both of my parents as a kid and went to live with my aunt and uncle. I got into an argument with them as a teenager and Uncle Ben went looking for me. He got killed that night. Right in front of me actually. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten over it had it not been for my girlfriend.”

“Jesus Christ..” She breathed, feeling her heart sink at the confession. “Peter, I am so sorry. I can’t even imagine.”

“Oh, it was almost ten years ago now. Gwen really helped me process the pain,” He shrugged. “It really helps to have a support system.”

“Is Gwen available for weekly coffee talks?” She smiled. “She sounds incredible.”

“She really was,” He responded softly. Her lips parted, feeling a sinking feeling in her stomach once again. She placed a reassuring hand on his own and squeezed. It took him aback, her touch.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered. She didn’t let her hand linger for too long to his dismay. Though her hands were cold, her touch warmed him to the bone. It was soothing. The fact that she reached for his hand wasn’t what surprised him; it was the comfort that came with it. “Tell you what, let me clean your face up a bit and then I’ll make us some tea. Nothing like trauma dumping over a cup of chamomile tea.”

“Deal,” He nodded, still thinking about the electric touch.

He normally felt a pang of guilt at the thought of moving on from Gwen, shutting down any feeling towards another person. In his past relationships, it was a mental block that ultimately resulted in a breakup. Maybe it was the fact that she would’ve liked Y/N or that it was simply meant to be; but he didn’t feel anything other than a sense of comfort at the thought of being with the woman in front of him.

He couldn’t believe how organic her touch felt or how naturally their personalities blended with one another. Peter could practically felt the universe pushing them together. He was utterly captivated by this woman; the way she spoke, the way she moved. All he wanted was to get to know her in her entirety. He knew this longing all too well. He felt it with Gwen, but it was different with her.

“Ow!” He hissed as she pressed a small alcohol wipe into his brow. “What happened to a warning?”

“I didn’t think you needed one if you literally saw me coming at you with this wipe,” Y/N giggled.

It was only then he realized how close she was. He could feel her warm breath on his nose as she hovered above him. It was electric, the chemistry. Judging by the way her eyes kept wandering to his own, she felt it too.

“All done,” She smiled, pulling away to collect her small mess. He watched intently as she quickly cleaned up before finally getting up to go to the kitchen. “Chamomile alright?”

“Yeah, um, yeah that sounds great actually,” He smiled. “Do you need help with anything?”

“No, I just need you to sit still and heal,” She responded. He lost sight of her as she disappeared behind a wall. “Do you wanna stay the night? This couch pulls out and it’s pretty comfortable. I’d hate to see you walk home in your condition.”

“Oh, I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” He shook his head before grunting as he got up, disobeying her orders; Peter found himself drawn to her. Greater forces were working and it felt as if he had no control over his body. It longed to be in her presence.

“I thought I told you to sit,” Y/N chuckled as she looked over her shoulder to see his silhouette in the doorway. She paused what she was doing to continue the conversation. “And you wouldn’t be. Your welcome expires at 8:00 AM. I have a meeting.”

“A meeting,” He repeated, leaning against the cursed wall that separated them only moment before. “Sounds very professional.”

“It is!” She grinned proudly, turning back around to continue making the promises tea. “I’m a journalist. My boss put me on this Spiderman project a while back.”

“Oh?” Peter asked cautiously. He’d been so caught up in her world that he’d forgotten his reality.

“I’m actually really excited,” She admitted, turning to look at him every so often. “The Daily Bugle has been spreading hate on Spiderman and convincing people that he’s some menace to society. I mean it would take an actual idiot not to see that he’s a hero. Anyways, I have a New York Times column called The Daily Herald dedicated to debunk everything Jameson says.“

“You’re kidding,” Peter deadpanned. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly was not that. It must’ve been a universal MJ trait, rooting for Spiderman.

“Ew, don’t tell me you actually side with that asshole!” She scrunched her nose, making him laugh at the irony.

“No! No! Not at all, I’m just shocked. That’s a pretty cool job is all,” He responded. “What’s the meeting about tomorrow?”

“He saved a little boy today. Everyone thought he was dead but the kiddo pulled through. He’s expected to make a full recovery. I’m interviewing his mother,” Y/N said casually as she grabbed the tea from her cabinet.

“He survived?!” Peter pushed off of the wall with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” She said, turning around to look at him. His tone demanded her attention. “I was shocked too. He-”

“Wait, I’m sorry. The little boy that was held in the air and thrown to the side by The Collector? That kid is the one who survived?!” He questioned, taking a step forward in excitement.

“That’s the one,” She said slowly, narrowing her eyes at his urgent curiosity. She caught a glimpse of his grin before he turned around to go lean on the wall again. A smile of relief. A smile of someone who knew the child.. or of someone who tried to save him. “Huh..”

“What?” He asked, seeing her face change into one of deep thought.

“Oh, nothing,” She pushed the thought away. It was crazy. This dorky, sweet man couldn’t be.. “Just.. It’s nothing. Can you please just go sit down? I don’t know if those stitches can withstand all of this excitement.”

He nodded slowly, wondering what just went through her mind. He hesitated before walking back to the couch. It was only a few moments later that MJ walked in with two cups of tea. He smiled at the one in her left hand.

“Careful, it’s hot,” She mumbled, setting his cup on the table. His eyebrows shot up at the Spiderman mug that was placed in front of him.

“You even have Spiderman merch?” He giggled, picking up the mug to further examine it.

“Okay, before I look like some obsessed fan, let me explain,” She laughed, blushing at his playfulness. “My best friend bought me that when I scored the job. Stop laughing! I mean it’s a small chunky cartoon version of Spiderman! Isn’t it cute?”

“Very cute,” He chuckled, not taking his eyes off of her as she relentlessly defended the cup in his hand. She smiled as she sat down with a mug that read WE ARE HAPPY TO SERVE YOU. “Is there a story behind that mug too?”

“I went to this diner with my brother a couple years ago and said they had cute cups so the idiot decided to steal one,” She smiled, looking at the cup. “Best diner in the city! I’ll have to take you there sometime.”

Peter looked down and chuckled softly. She said it so casually, as if they hadn’t just met an hour prior. The sense of familiarity was mutual. She smiled as she set her brother’s mug down before turning her body to face Peter.

“Thanks for letting me stay the night,” He mirrored her motions. “It’s not every day that I’m exposed to a kindness. It seems like a rarity in this city.”

“Yeah, the people here kinda suck,” She said nonchalantly. Another laugh escaped from his lips. “But it can be nice though. There’s this sense of anonymity, you know? You’re just a number and you can be whoever you want to be.”

“Yeah, definitely. Lonely but nice at times,” He nodded.

“God, it can be so fucking lonely,” She breathed out.

The two got lost in an organic conversation, talking as though they were lifelong friends. She spoke fondly of her childhood, giggling at the memories of her rambunctious brother. He spoke of his adolescence, recalling simpler times with his uncle and Gwen. They kept the chat platonic; besides the teasing and longing looks.

He liked making her blush. It arose to her cheeks the same way the morning sun set; slowly, subtly at first and then all at once. She covered her face with her hands and giggled when she felt it coming on, which baffled Peter. He couldn’t fathom why she would hide such a beautiful face.

The tea was long gone by the time she finally glanced over her shoulder to look at the time. “Oh my god. It’s a lot later that I thought it was. I should probably set up this couch for you.“

“Here, let me help,” Peter offered, getting up to follow through with the promise.

“No, no, no,” She frowned, grabbing his shoulders to gently move him out of the way. It was the first time he stood up straight; he was taller than she imagined. “You just stand here. I don’t want you to tear your stitches that I worked oh-so hard on.”

“Yes ma’am,” He tried to match her stern tone. She playfully rolled her eyes before methodically placing the couch cushions in the corner of the room. He watched her intently with soft eyes. She entranced him with the way she moved. Everything from how her hips swayed to how she gripped the cushions; he observed with eager attention, similar to the way one does when they watch their favorite movie for the first time. He almost didn’t realize that she was struggling to open the futon. “Y/N. You sure you don’t need help?”

She looked up and huffed in defeat, her hair strung amuck.

“So, here’s the thing,” Y/N sighed, standing back up. “I kind of forgot that my friends broke this thing last weekend. I’ve been meaning to get it fixed, but it won’t open. Just take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“I’m not taking your bed,” He grinned at the absurdity. “I’ll take the couch if you fold it back up.”

“Right. Um,” She hesitated, looking back down at the couch. “I’ll just..”

“You can’t get it to fold up again, can you?”

“Peter, please. Do I look like a complete imbecile? I’ve got this all under control,” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Take the bed. I’ll get this sorted out.”

“I’ll take the bed if you sort it all out in front of me,” He smirked. She pursed her lips.

“Okay! So I can’t get it to fold up again,” She groaned. “I forgot it took three of us to push it back into place last time. I’ll take the floor.”

“No way!” He laughed again.

“Okay.. Then we can sleep together,” She sighed, only realizing how that sounded at the sound of his chuckle. “You know what I mean! Like share the same bed.”

“I’m okay with that,” He responded, feeling his heart speed up at the simple thought of falling asleep next to you.

“Okay,” She nodded, hesitating to walk him to her room. “You’re not like.. secretly a pervert, are you?”

“What?!” Peter laughed. “No, of course not!”

“Okay, I didn’t think so but I just had to ask,” She giggled, walking towards her room. He followed close behind, stopping in his tracks when she paused in the doorway. “Wanna borrow some pajama pants? Or do you prefer to sleep in those tighty whiteys?”

Peter looked down at his white boxer briefs, his jaw dropping offensively. She laughed as she turned back around again and walked towards a small dresser.

“These are not tighty whiteys!” He argued as he followed her into the room. It was incredibly small, but charming nevertheless. She had a bookshelf filled with old books and decorated the walls with vintage paintings. A soft white light lit up the room, giving the room a golden glow. He was surprised at how at home he felt in her apartment. Or maybe it was just the fact that she was there.

“That’s exactly what someone in tighty whiteys would say,” She teased, digging through your closet before tossing him a pair of Star Wars pant bottoms.

“I don’t know what’s worse; tighty whiteys or Star Wars pajamas,” He bit back playfully, slipping into the soft pants. They were obviously meant for men, far too big for her to wear. He hadn’t even thought of the idea that she might be taken; maybe these belonged to a boyfriend. He refrained from asking the question, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

“So admit it? They’re tighty whiteys?” She laughed, grabbing an old t-shirt and shorts. “And don’t blame me for the nerdy PJs. My brother left them here for whenever he needed to stay the night. He was such a geek. I mean the man was super into math and science and Star Wars.”

“What’s wrong with math and science and Star Wars?” Peter raised a brow as she walked towards the door. She smiled.

“Math is hard. Science is complicated. And Star Wars is beyond bo-“

“Please don’t finish that sentence with boring. You’re actually breaking my heart right now,” He frowned, making her throw her head back in laughter.

“Be right back,” She replied, disappearing behind the door. Peter decided to lie down under the sheets. Once he got comfortable, he looked around at the paintings, admiring the beauty in them. She didn’t strike him as a romantic but the art said otherwise. Quite a few of them were of couples doing mundane things such as walking in the park holding hands or dancing in the kitchen.

“What are you smiling about?” She asked, coming back in wearing the clothes that previously dangled from her arm. He looked over at her for a moment before motioning to the pictures with his head. “Oh, they’re really cool right? I like to go thrifting for vintage pieces. My latest purchase was that old film camera on my bookshelves. I’ve been meaning to fix up for a while now.”

“I might be able to fix it up for you,” He offered as she walked to the other side of the bed. “I love messing with old cameras actually.”

“I might actually have to take you up on that,” She yawned, getting under the covers. Peter bit his lip, resisting the urge to smile. This moment somehow felt like it could be in one of her paintings; a seemingly mundane moment shared by two strangers. One of which was allowing himself to fall for the woman next to him. “Anyways, I’m gonna turn off the light. Feel free to stay as long as you want tomorrow. If you’re not busy, maybe we can grab lunch after my meeting?”

She sounded nervous, as if she had been pondering asking him that for a while. Planning out how to word it and when to say it. He looked over and smiled.

“Only if it’s at that diner you were talking about earlier,” He agreed, speaking in a soft voice. She grinned.

“Deal,” She stated before turning out the light.

—————

Part Two ->

OMG I’VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR LIKE EVER NOW!! Please reblog/like/or comment if you liked this. Let me know if you’d like a part two :)

the gif was from @lucbian ‘s blog :)

the story is dedicated to @mitchloveswriting<3

PETER PARKER | “Blood and Silk Sheets”

Requested: no
Published: January 2nd, 2022
Pairing: Established tasm!Peter Parker x Reader
Prompt(s): none
Warning(s): none
Word count: 2.3k
Author’s note: My obsession continues. I’m having waay too much with his character. Also Trixie!

☇ my navigation

While at it please read my “Way Too Far From Home” one shot because it does not want to appear in the tags no matter how many times I repost it.

“How was school today?”

You stopped fiddling with the asparagus in the corner of your plate. Your mother’s cheerful voice had you reaching for your cup of water if only to give work to your mouth, so you didn’t have to engage. It needed ice cubes, the water, because room temperature with steak for dinner was not a good choice. Still, you downed it because it meant no immediate answer was needed.

Placing the high glass back on the table, you managed an awkward smile and said, “Good.”

Because it was just that.

Good.

Nothing new, nothing special. Only grades and exams and a shit ton of assignments.

“Just good?” She enquired innocently, cutting her steak delicately.

“The steak’s nice,” you said instead. Your mother’s eyes went ablaze at the lack of response, and just as she opened her mouth to demand intimate detail about how your day went, your younger sister jumped out of her seat and pointed at the TV.

“Look mom! Spider-Man!”

“Trixie-” Your mother began to tell her to stay put, but with no avail.

The child of destruction had already leaped for the sofa, throwing herself over the armrest to get a better view of the TV. She rolled over twice between the fluffy blanket before she was happily settled in to watch…

The news.

Your heart leaped in your chest.

But your mother was watching you.

Don’t show it. Don’t show it.

Don’t give her a reason to suspect. Don’t let her know you’re interested (rightfully so) in what had happened to the masked hero. Especially not for the sole reason that it will give her ammo.  

The woman had her suspicions.

“HE’S BLEEDING! OH MY GOOD MOM–”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, and you dug into your mashed potatoes like a lunatic.

“Several eyewitnesses have confirmed what many already knew. Spider-Man had fallen down thirty stories and is currently…”

“How awful,” your mother mused, cradling the wine glass in her hand. She never had a thing for peace makers that weren’t wearing a badge, “Doesn’t Peter know him?”

Should have just given it to me straight, you thought. “No, Peter just takes pictures of him.”

“Just pictures?”

“Yeah?”

“You sure?”

You gave her a look, “I’m pretty sure I would know if my boyfriend was friends with Spider-Man.”

“Not just friends but,” she began conspiratorially, but waved a hand. “Never mind.”

Then, just as fate smiled your way and your mother began succumbing to the wine and lack of interest in your geeky boyfriend (for who she did not know just fell thirty stories!) a sound so close to a falling table reasoned in the hallway.

Your room.

Not the hallway.

“What was that?”

The steak turned ashen in your mouth.

Your little sister felt as though it was her duty to pipe in from the couch, “Maybe there’s someb-”

“A lamp!” You blurted out with vehemence, “The white one from Ikea. I must have left the window open. I should probably-”

You were already running across the living room. “Y/N! Come back here this instant!”

Trixie was cackling on her spot as if shedidn’t leap off the dining table herself. “Zero manners.” You leaned into her face to say the words and snatched the pillow beneath her, ruining her tangled bliss.

“Hey!”

You took two stairs at the time, barging through your room as if you knew a burglar was in there. Scanning the desk, on which the white lamp laid undisturbed, you turned to the beanbag in the corner.

Nothing.

Then the bed.

First thing you said was, “The sheets!”

“What?” Asked Peter groggily, as if he had slept nicely before you came raging through. He twisted in his Spandex suit to release pressure on the silk sheet you were so desperately trying to get away from him. “Your boyfriend’s bleeding and you’re worried about sheets?”

“They’re silk,” you said as if it answered everything, gathering the flowery pattern that kept slipping away. “And you’ll heal.”

He brought out a hand and webs shot out, grasping your wrist and pulling you to the bed when you almost teleported to the other side of the room. Peter was so out of it he just nuzzled himself against your fallen body and murmured an almost drunken, “You smell soo nice babe.”

“Stop it,” you were still hugging the sheets in your arms, willing yourself not give him any attention. You were so angry you could bite his ear clean off.

Stupid invasive thoughts.

“Y/N? Who are you talking to?” Your mother’s voice hollered from downstairs.

Fearing she would trek her merry way upstairs and find you in bed with a bloodied red and blue man (who still wore his mask), you released the sheets and grabbed Peter’s wrist. You lead the dangly muscle clad arm to the direction of the door handle, “Shoot.”

“What?” He mumbled in your neck, sending tingles running.

“Just…” You tried to ignore his warm breath, “Just shoot your webs Peter for the love of everything–”

Pop.

The door handle became a sticky mess, connected to the wall and door by unbreakable web. You sighed in relief and fell back against the pillow. It was silk too, but you didn’t have time to strip it clean. “I need to see those wounds.”

He groaned.

“I’m serious Peter,” you told him. “Take off your shirt. Or suit. Or whatever. Now.”

“So bossy.”

You snatched off his mask yourself, revealing a Peter Parker with nasty cuts all over his face. Upon seeing the look on your face, he brought his bloodied lip out in an innocent, broad smile as his cheek rested squished on your pillow. Blood trailed his face like tears.

“Let me get the aid kit,” you announced. “Clothes are coming off. Now.”

“Yes ma'am,” he smiled, muttering a happy, “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

The aid kit was placed underneath your desk, settled in a big shoebox that once housed knee-high boots but had to give up the space in order for the emergency kit to settle in. “You have an aid kit in your room?”

You felt his eyes on your bottom as you pushed out the white leather chair and crouched beneath the big desk, half expecting to rattle your head against it because of his watchful eyes. His footsteps creaked the laminate flooring as he fought his suit, hopping from one foot to another. “Be quiet!” You said and retrieved the kit. “And yes, I do have an emergency kit in my room because you keep coming to me injured! Now take off the suit.”

“I’m trying,” Peter said beneath the suit that now clawed at his face, acting as a mask when it wasn’t. “I really am babe.” He added when he felt your own fingers attempting to grasp his suit. Every time you pinched a spot, the skintight cloth found it rebellious to slip right through.

“How do you even get this thing off?” You asked him, breathless at the lack of sudden air.

“Lots of practice.” He replied helpfully, his body unmoving as he allowed you to dot all over him. You found a good grasping spot just above his collarbone and yanked, feeling the material finally work alongside you. “And a vicious girlfriend. Ow.”

When at last the suit fell apart, you exhaled in relief but blanched at the sight of his chest.

He kissed your worried face away. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” you stated, pushed him down on the bed.

“Ooohkinky.”

“Shut up,” you couldn’t help but laugh, reaching for the aid kit. “You fell down thirty stories.”

“You saw?”

“No,” you shook your head grimly, settling his head on your lap. “I heard.On the news.”

He visibly cringed, no doubt feeling terrible that you had to found out that way. Was he in the wrong for not telling you that his today’s adventure was probably going to end with him in pain? Yeah, probably, he thought.

“Mom’s been a pain in my butt though,” you told him with fake chirpiness, dabbing the antiseptic on his nose. He seethed but said nothing, being an obedient boyfriend after putting you in such a frenzy. “Almost told her that the punk she calls Spider-Man might very well be her son-in-law. God she’s infuriating.”

Peter smiled big and wide, having heard nothing of what you said save for that one label.

“And Trix?” You began droning on, “It’s like she wants mom to know. Ever since youtold her who you were…”

Peter liked your sister. Liked the filterless kid with all his might. Even the purple temporary color in her hair that she always begged you put on her. He thought it was cute that she already had such a strong personality. Smart mouth and dye in her hair.

And his biggest fan.

Then a knock on the door. Your head whipped mid wound cleaning.

“It’s Trix,” Peter supplied.

You threw a bandage at the door. It didn’t make it farther than Peter’s knee. “Go away!”

“Please!”

Throwing Peter’s head off your lap (gently) you stood up and brushed the creases off your pants. His blood blended with your dark shirt, so you were less worried about traumatizing your sister. You took a step toward the door before Peter pulled you to him. “What are you doing?” You whisper-shouted, careful not to touch his injuries after you landed on top of him.

He mouthed one word. Kiss.

“What for?”

Peter rolled his eyes, “To make it better. It’s a condition.”

“Oh? A condition?” You looked him in the eyes, tilting your head. “You’re setting up contidions?”

“It’s in the contract,” he supplied, running a hand beneath your loose shirt. “Y'know, no big deal.”

“Really? No big deal?”

“Mhmm.”

You were about to make his wish come true when he raised his head and stole one for himself. Then another. And another. “Peter…” You said in between each kiss, giddy despite the fact worry cruised through your veins. “You’re impossible.”

“I know,” he replied proudly and settled back, his torso naked for all to see. Not wanting to traumatize your sister, you at last grabbed the silken material you so desperately tried to save and threw it on him.

“Behave,” you pointed a finger, grabbed scissors off the desk and yanked them into the web. “I believe it’s in the contract.”

“No it’s not.”

“Oh I think it is,” you told him with a light smirk, “It’s under mutuality of obligation. Both parties agree that Peter Parker must listen to his girlfriend at all times,” you pointed at yourself with the scissors. “Aka me.”

His chuckle was the last thing heard before the web broke apart and a small body of a child barreled through, ear first and then the rest of her body following.

“Were you eavesdropping?” You asked your sister after grabbing her by the elbow to prevent her fall.

Trxie fixed you a stare, “No I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were,” you and Peter said at the same time.

Her jaw went slack, “Peter!”

You rolled your eyes, shutting the door after peering into the hallway in search for your mother. “Great now we have an audience.” You said after shutting it.

“How are you feeling?” Trixie asked him, ignoring you. “I saw you on TV.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine Trix,” he told her banged up. “No big deal.”

“I knew it,” she said, proud to have guessed right. If only she saw what lay beneath the sheet her hero was covered with. Trixie turned to you, “Mom’s sleeping.”

“Hallelujah.”

“So, Trix,” Peter tried to sound casual as you leaned against the table with your hip, daring him with your eyes to tell her how much it hurt. “H-how’s it going?”

She scooted closer to his head, and he grunted in pain, masking the action by coughing. Your eyebrows reached your hairline.

“Good,” Trixie’s hair fell beside his. “How are you doing?”

“Oh,” he sounded surprised. “I-I’m doing good Trix. Doin’ realgood.”

“Then why’d you fall down thirty stories?”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I saw everything,” she announced proudly, twisting until her cheek lay in her palm, elbow digging into the bed and everything. Peter, who still rested on his back looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Somebody filmed you and they played it on the news. It was in slow motion and everything.”

“You probably shouldn’t have seen that,” Peter told her. “Too graphic.”

“So what? I can take it.”

“You’re eight Trixie.”

“And you’re eighteen and can’t even do your job right.”

“O-kay, Trix,” you came in between, grabbing her leg and yanking her toward you. “That’s enough. Thank you for bruising his ego.”

“Yeah, thanks Trix.” Peter added, suddenly sour.

“No problem,” she said, confused as to why she was unrightfully being kicked out but still proud to receive thank yous.

“Yep,” you lead her by the shoulders, “Thanks for the audience kid.”

Just as you were about to close to door in her face did she announce, “Mom said you’re driving me to school tomorrow.”

“Sure,” you said, done with dealing with her. “Might even let Peter swing you there if you leave me alone.”

Her eyes sparkled, “You promise?”

She already had a finger out. You rolled your eyes and looped your pinky through hers. “Now leave us alone.”

“Done!” She skedaddled back to where she came from.

“Impossible,” you muttered after her and closed the door. “Can’t a woman have any peace-”

Peter suddenly stood incredibly close to you, some of his wounds already healed. “Thanks for the help Y/N but I really need to make my payment.”

“It’s in the contract?” You asked him, watching him nod eagerly. “All right then. Come and collect.”

He swooped in and kissed you long, hard and good.

Note: If you enjoyed reading this fic do check out my other work by clicking on one of my masterlist links. If it’s not a bother leave a like, comment and/or reblog. It gives me motivation and lets me know that you liked what I wrote. <3

If you would perhaps want to read some of my work earlier, you can check out my AO3profile, I’ll always make sure to tell you guys when a fic is posted on there in advance!

Lastly, if you wish to be tagged under any of my future fics go to mytag list! I no longer take requests through ask, dm, comments anymore. Once on my tag list post you’ll find a link to a Google Form that you have to fill out in order for your request to be valid! x

psidiumnocte:

maybe need a threesome with rob pattinson and andrew garfield after these pictures of a dinner party in LA

like imagine a crossover with andrew spiderman and rob batman where they have to collaborate together cos ur a vilain in gotham city and they finally caught you (thanks to peter web ???) ans they both decide to teach you a lesson for being bad and naughty ??

thinking about writing about andrew peter parker who tie you up with his leather belt just to appreciate the view of you wearing this velvet green dress he love so much

psidiumnocte:

I dare someone to write a andrew garfield fic or tasm peter parker fic based on the green green dress song from tick tick boom

okaymaybe… i’ll give it a try even though i haven’t written anything for YEARS

I dare someone to write a andrew garfield fic or tasm peter parker fic based on the green green dress song from tick tick boom

jin0:

JIN’S 2K SLEEPOVER !!

we’re 2k hooligans around here now and i couldn’t be happier to have you guys here despite my violent lack or presence i guess…

thank you so much !!

the celebration for this sleepover will be a little different than last time !! a lot of you have awesome ideas and share them in my inbox and i simply just cannot ignore these sometimes because they genuinely give me great ideas !! so i figured, why not compile all the great stuff your minds come up with to help that greatness be explored ??

you probably saw the previous post but a lot more ideas came to mind (at like 3am so they’re a little wonky). hopefully you guys will enjoy :)

sofrom thursday 9th to july 9th : you guys will be able to put in pseudo requests under these three activities!!

Keep reading

HERE’S THE SLEEPOVER POST WITH THE UPDATED LISTS FOR THE FIRST ACTIVITY !!

• list 1 : the nerd part 1
• list 2 : the nerd part 2
• list 3 : the greek
• list 4 : the king
• list 5 : the knight

jin0:

JIN’S 2K SLEEPOVER !!

we’re 2k hooligans around here now and i couldn’t be happier to have you guys here despite my violent lack or presence i guess…

thank you so much !!

the celebration for this sleepover will be a little different than last time !! a lot of you have awesome ideas and share them in my inbox and i simply just cannot ignore these sometimes because they genuinely give me great ideas !! so i figured, why not compile all the great stuff your minds come up with to help that greatness be explored ??

you probably saw the previous post but a lot more ideas came to mind (at like 3am so they’re a little wonky). hopefully you guys will enjoy :)

sofrom thursday 9th to july 9th : you guys will be able to put in pseudo requests under these three activities!!

Keep reading

I’LL BE TAKING THE REQUESTS IN ADVANCE AND POSTING WHEN I CAN !!

Can’t find the request that came through for this one but it was along the lines of a “who did this to you?” with our boy, Peter Parker tw: mentions of ab*sive relationship; implied violence, injury, mentions of food; reader has internalized victim shaming; read with care please and know that you are loved

You round the corner to Peter’s apartment with tears so heavy in your eyes you can barely see. The New York sidewalk is just a blur of vaguely human shapes that you carefully weave around, good at dodging, at avoiding.

When you press the button to buzz Peter, you half-expect him to not be home and just as you’re about to construct a slipshod Plan B, his voice crackles over the intercom, confused before you let him know it’s you and even more confused after you reveal as much.

Why didn’t you text? Thespeaker makes his voice gravelly and distant.

“Don’t have my phone,” you reply, rocking on the balls of your feet. You don’t add that there hadn’t been time to grab it, to take anything of value other than yourself, though you kept wondering vaguely what exactly that value was. You pull your sweater down over your balled up fists and swipe at your tears just as you hear the apartment door click open.

C’mon up.

You step into the cramped space between the door and a flight of stairs that leads to the apartments above the Chinese takeout place Peter lives over. The smell of oil and fried dough wraps itself around you and your stomach growls, desperate for an egg roll now that you realize you haven’t eaten since yesterday at lunch.

Then you hear Peter’s door open overhead, and his frenetic footsteps as he takes the stairs down two at a time, ever energetic. Blinking, you suddenly regret coming here at all, worry washing over you when you imagine what’s going to happen next. You can already see the shift in Peter’s mood unfolding in your mind, that leap from excited golden retriever puppy to guarded and dark.

“Hey Bug,” he greets you, about to wrap you up in a hug when he freezes, his face still save for a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. You know that look—it’s his Spidey sense kicking in. And you know it’s your fault. You take a small step back, giving yourself as much space as you can in the tiny entryway. Peter recovers with a shake of his head. If you were watching him, you’d see his gaze scanning you carefully, but as it is, you can only stare at the worn out toes of your sneakers.

“What happened?” Peter’s voice is firm, but when you finally look back up at him his eyes are soft. Until he sees the split lip you’re sporting. And the red-rimmed eyes that are dangerously close to hollow in your face. Then his eyes grow wide and there’s a fire in them you’ve never seen before, not even when those guys mugged the two of you coming home from a movie one night.

“Peter.” The way you say his name, so quiet and afraid, has him crumbling inside. He swallows the almighty rage that’s humming in his chest, forces his fists to unclench so he can get nearer to you. There will be time for anger later, so he bites it back and it tastes suspiciously like arsenic as it courses back into his stomach.

But you don’t step away this time, allowing him to pull you close, to take your chin in one hand and gingerly swipe a thumb over where you’re hurting. It’s not the only place you’re hurting, he knows, but it’s the only one he can see, the only tangible thing he can do right now that isn’t punching a hole into the wall.

“Who did this?” His question is a whisper of a threat because he already knows. Something about the new guy you’d been bringing around never sat right with him, but how could he tell you that without sounding like he was jealous, truly and madly in love with you? It was nothing but his sixth sense, he’d told himself. And suddenly he’s angry again, this time at himself.

“We…” you begin, tears lining your lashes again. Peter shushes you, pulls your face into his chest, but you break free, shaking your head. You want to tell him. You need to tell him. “We were arguing. It got…ugly. Peter…he’s never done this before and—”

“Fucking hell,” Peter blurts out, rough enough to make you cringe. He’s apologizing immediately, cooing soft words into your hair. “Bug,” he mumbles, “Don’t make excuses for him.”

“I’m not.” It comes out snappishly, a sting in your tone that is at odds with your bawling eyes. “If he…” you pause to sniffle, to wipe your runny nose on your sleeve. “If he’d ever done this before…I would have already left. I need you to know that, Peter. I…I wouldn’t, I’m not…”

You don’t know how to say you don’t want to be a victim. You don’t want to file a police report or have Peter beat the shit out of your now-ex, or consider yourself victimized. That’s not you. It was neversupposed to be you. It would never happen to you…

But it did.

“Hey,” Peter whispers, and the pity in his voice sends another fresh wave of tears rolling down your cheeks. He sighs, pulls you in for a hug, knows there’s nothing he can say right now. He could tell you it’s not your fault. Tell you it’ll all be okay. Tell you that there are groups in the city who can help with this sort of thing—he’s brought enough women to them that he’s had to stop counting for his sanity. But none of that is what you need to hear right now. There’ll be time for anger later. Time for what comes next, but later. “I’m gonna carry you upstairs, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe into his chest, making yourself small as Peter effortlessly scoops you into his arms and climbs the stairs back to his apartment. He doesn’t stop until he’s set you down on his bed and tucked you under the blankets. You’re exhausted, you realize, but your stomach growls again and your body feels like it’s at war with itself.

“I’ll go get some egg rolls, yeah?” Peter says, brushing a stray hair from your face. He pulls the box of tissues from his nightstand onto the bed and lays it on the pillow next to your face. Gently, he plucks a tissue and dabs at your streaked makeup. “And some ice for your lip.”

“Yeah,” you nod, eyes heavy. You feel safe here, as though you’re protected from everything that would harm you, even your own thoughts. “And then will you stay with me?”

“For as long as you want, Bug.”

the-amazing-simp:

Dejavu | (TASM) Peter Parker

Title: Dejavu

Requested: Yes/No

✍ Summary: Your Peter’s best friend. So, when he almost loses you - it’s dejavu. | 2.7k

Warning: NO WAY HOME SPOILERS

Finding yourself in a whole new version of New York with your best friend, Peter Parker, was confusing enough.

But whoever thought that it was a good idea to add some magical portal with two teenagers who seemed to be calling out to your best friend - obviously was crazy.

“Should we go to them?” Peter asked, nodding towards the portal with the two teenagers.

You looked at him, “Peter, as your best friend, you know that I often commend you for your brilliance, but this is seriously one of the dumbest ideas you’ve had.”

Keep reading

Hot Wax

ততততততততততততThis fic works for any Peter Parker

Peter Parker x Reader

Peter wants you to wax him. He enjoys it a lot more then you’re expecting

Warnings⚠️: soft smut… I guess

Masterlist

̶̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶Requests open　 ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶

“You what?”

“I want you to wax me.”

All you could do was stare at your husband of 2 years after he asked something so random. “Pete, you’re gonna have to be specific cause…why?” you ask, disbelief written all over your face.

“I mean, you always wax. I feel like it’s a little unfair,” Peter shrugs.

Your mouth is hung open, and you blink, still not knowing what to say. You finally snap out of it, “Peter…babes, you don’t have to do that. I wax cause I want to, plus as long as you trim the hair, I don’t mind it.”

“But I wanna try it. Just once at least, please?” Peter begs, giving you the ‘I love you, so please do this for me’ face.

You sigh, knowing that face always breaks you. “Alright. Ok, fine, yeah, I’ll wax you.” Even though you don’t fully get his reason, the big smile that spreads across his face is definitely worth the yes.

Within minutes, Peter is laid on his back on the bed, below his waist completely bare, as he watches you prepare your wax. “Ok,” you start after you’re ready, “it’s gonna be warm. Just relax.” Peter nods, and you start putting the wax around his hairy area.

When the wax comes into contact with his skin, you see him slowly inhale, the ghost of a smile on his lips. As you continue, as you expected, he starts getting hard. You knew he would. The warm wax is so close to his cock, so he can’t help it.

You can tell he doesn’t notice cause he acts so natural while his cock stands stiff and tall against his stomach. You know he’ll be embarrassed when he realizes.

Once you’re finished coating all the wax, you get the strips and start sticking them. You stick the first one, but Peter’s cock is in the way of the second, so you gently move it out of the way with your hand, finally getting his attention.

You act like you don’t see his eyes snap open and down to you, and his body slightly stiffens. “S-sorry,” he finally squeaks out.

“It’s ok,” you say, giving him a gentle smile. You continue sticking the last strip, noting how Peter is a little more fidgety, the warmth of the wax no longer distracting him from the pulsing in his hard cock. “Alright, done. I’m gonna pull them now,” you tell him, looking at the wax strips on his pelvis.

“Alright,” he mumbles.

You grip the first strip, giving him one last look before pulling it. You didn’t know exactly what to expect, but at the least you figured the pain would make him soften. It didn’t. The most reaction you got was a quiet sharp inhale. “You good?” you ask, setting the strip to the side.

“Yeah.”

You keep pulling the strips. It’s not many, but each time, Peter gives less and less a reaction, only his face progressively getting redder, plus him starting to bite his lip. “Alright, last one.” Peter only gives a hum in response. You grip the last strip and pull.

This time, you definitely don’t expect what happened. You’d admit, Peter’s cock was visibly pulsing, his tip red and begging for stimulation, plus the fact pre cum started leaking from his slit. However, when his cock started spriting out cum, a loud whimper escaping his lips, it surprised you.

Thick cum leaks from his tip, and he can’t help but hang his mouth open and pant, a soft cry leaving it from the relief. A surprised smile spreads your lips, and you open your mouth to say something but don’t know what to say. “Pete- I, I’d ask if you liked that, but…” you trail your hand up his leg and wrap it around his cum covered cock, making him yelp when you start stroking it.

“Ah~ w-wait~ Y/n, please- s-sensitive,” Peter whined. You smirk, but have mercy on him and take your hand away, grabbing a tissue to clean him up. Once you finish, you put everything away, and Peter is still laid on the bed, his eyes heavy.

You climb on the bed next to him, sitting up on your side and looking at him. “Do you like how it looks?” you ask, meaning his waxed pelvic area.

“Mm, I don’t know, haven’t looked. I’ll look tomorrow. M'sleepy,” Peter says, his voice sluggish, eyes barely open as he tries to look at you.

You laugh lightly. “Alright.”

“By the way, I think I have a pain kink,” he adds.

“Yeah, I picked up on that.”

Masterlist

bunny | peter parker !

¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

word count: 10.9k

synopsis: Peter Parker has been your best friend for years. After you develop a relationship with somebody else, you see a side of him you’ve never seen before.

content warnings: RAPE/NONCON, blood,dark!peter parker, plus size!reader, negative self talk, insecurities, slow burn, implied stalking, oral (f! receiving), slapping, degradation, spit, unproteced sex, creampie, lmk if i missed any

¡ marvel masterlist !

You were sixteen when you met Peter Parker. 

He had shyly approached you, a blush high on his cheeks as he handed you a stack of papers. Confused, you simply stared at them, eyebrows cinched and lips slightly downturned. 

You were well aware of who Peter Parker was. He was a member of the Midtown Academic Decathlon team that you were also part of; though you never directly interacted it’s him due to your nerves. He seemed kind, he was lanky and a little geeky, making him the butt of a lot of jokes. Much like you were. For opposite reasons, of course.

You were often teased and ridiculed for your size. You were heavier and much curvier than other girls your age. You had a puffy face and a matching plump body, most people couldn’t look past that. So, to say the least, you weren’t very popular.

Peter Parker knew all about you. He had been watching you since your freshman year. He was absolutely mesmerized when first laid eyes on you. He swears he had never seen a more beautiful sight than you, taking little, shy steps like you were afraid to make your presence known. Your hair was done in the way he would grow to like best, and you wore a pretty blue plaid skirt and a white sweater. The skirt was a tad too long and he could sense your discomfort as you tugged it down even further. He remembers staring at you as you looked around with unfamiliarity and slight fear in your eyes. The innocence in your eyes was also hard to miss. You held textbooks to your chest, an attempt to conceal your tummy. He watched as you stood alone, your cute nose making slight movements as you stood. Your nose wiggled like a little bunny. He felt the desire to protect you, keep you next to him and out of harm’s way. He regrets not approaching you that day. It would have saved you from a lonely year. 

“I was told to give these to you,” he said silently, “I heard you missed a few days.”

“Oh,” you breathed, taking them from him, your chubby hands looking silly against his thin, veiny ones. Peter thought they looked perfect together. “Thank you, Peter,” you said, quickly pulling your hands away and hiding them behind your back when you saw his gaze on them. 

His eyes lingered on where your hand was against his before he looked up at you and gave you a bright smile, “no problem.”

Peter walked you to your class after that, taking the empty seat beside you and discussing the subject matter with you. And to your surprise, he followed you to your next class, and the next, and the next. By the end of the day you were quite fond of the boy. He was a lot kinder than you’d imagined, he even promised to see you the following morning for breakfast with Ned and MJ. Of course, you tried to decline but he wouldn’t let you leave without the promise of arriving on time. 

This was years ago and your friendship had only gotten stronger. 

Being friends with Peter was refreshing and comforting. He wasn’t like the other guys you’d met in university. He didn’t have any ulterior motives nor did he fetishize you. He did not attempt to coerce you, or manipulate you into getting what he wants because you owedit to him. No, Peter would never do that. 

Peter was actually the one to look after you, he made you aware of what those who sought you were really after. They want to take advantage of you, bunny, he’d said several times. They want to ruin you. He would never elaborate on what he meant when he said that and you didn’t like to pry. He just had a good judge of character is all.

Of course Ned and MJ were your friends too and they were very nice to you as well, but you always felt that they were only acquainted with you for Peter’s sake. You never hung out with them without Peter present but you tried not to let it bother you.

Your goal for the year was to acquire your own circle of friends, maybe even get a boyfriend after being single your entire life. Peter had a few girlfriends here and there, though nothing was ever serious. You couldn’t help but feel slightly envious of him, he had grown to be quite attractive, making it easy for him to make connections.

He had lost the baby fat on his cheeks, his jaw was now angular and his strong bone structure was one of his most prominent features on top of his big, brown eyes and muscular body. He was muscular in a lean way, a way that isn’t entirely noticeable under the sweaters he always wore. 

Today Peter sat across from you, latte in hand as he basked in the morning sun. His tight black shit highlighted his muscular arms and chest, you caught yourself staring as you sometimes did when he ditched the ill-fitting clothing. His chocolate brown curls framed his face beautifully, looking golden where they met the sun. His lips, colored like pink peonies, rested with the slightest pout.

You sipped your london fog, squinting as you looked up in search of the singing bird in the tree above your head. You caught sight of it. The creature’s delicate red feathers looked like fire in the golden sky as it flew away. Your stare fell on Peter again, “our 8AM lecture was cancelled today.” 

Peter hummed, not moving from his previous state, “I know.”

You huffed, “why’re we here, then?” you set your cup down, “it’s way too early. We, no I, should be in bed.”

Peter’s lips quirked up into a smile, “I wanted to hang out.”

“At six thirty A.M.? We could’ve hung out at a more reasonable hour, like, I don’t know, eleven,” you began ranting and you saw one of Peter’s eyes open slightly. “Or maybe twelve, we could’ve gotten breakfast or… or brunch!”

“You never eat breakfast,” he said, swinging his head forward, eyes now fully open and on you.

“I do…” you claimed, your nose scrunching, lips pouting.

Peter clicked his tongue, “not enough.”

“Well, whatever,” you opted to change the subject before he could continue further. 

“We still could’ve met up later. Like I said, brunch.”

“I don’t know,” he began, sitting up all the way now, “I kinda like being out this early. It’s nice and quiet.” 

“I guess so,” you murmured, leaning back to rest on your elbows.

Peter watched you, gaze moving from your Mary Jane clad feet to your pretty hair. You wore a dress today. It was Peter’s favorite dress, not that you knew that. It was a lilac purple color and it had short, puffy sleeves. He liked the way the dress clung to your curves and complimented your skin tone. It was the shortest of all your dresses, so he especially liked the way it rode up your thighs when you sat down, making your pudgy thighs all the more visible to him. He stared at them now, noticing the way the plush fat pooled around you like a sea of soft flesh as you relaxed. He wanted to grab them, bury his face in them and drown in you. 

His eyes ran up your body further, over the curve of your tummy and swell of your breasts. The necklace Peter had gifted you last Christmas sat prettily around your neck, resting on your bare chest above the heart shaped neckline of your dress, rising and falling as you breathed. He stared at it, not noticing when you opened your eyes to look at him.

“Okay?” he heard you ask.

“Mhm,” he replied, tearing his eyes away and giving you a soft smile. 

+

The morning had passed rather quickly and you perked up after your second tea of the day. Your last class of the day was your creative writing class. As you strode in, you took your usual seat in the front of the room, setting your things down beside you.

Your focus was on the board in front of you when you felt a gush of air on your left. You looked over, catching sight of a tall figure sitting down beside you. 

“Hey,” the man exhaled, setting down his things next to yours. 

You opened your mouth to respond but you ended up holding your hand up to signal a hello. 

The man smiled, “I’m Harry,” he held a hand out for you to shake.

You looked at it, quietly introducing yourself as you took his pale hand. Your touch was featherlight as it took you by surprise when he gripped it tightly with a slight laugh. 

Harry was effortlessly charming. He was cute and cool and he had a sharp sense of humor, you learned. But on top of that, he had a contagious smile and a gaze that made you feel like you were the most important person in the room. You often caught yourself gazing at him with the corner of your eye trying to be inconspicuous with your staring. He had shiny blonde hair that you thought resembled Peter’s. Only lighter and shorter and straighter and not really like Peter’s at all. 

You weren’t sure why your mind had suddenly wandered to Peter. Maybe a part of you wondered what he would think of Harry. Or maybe you were subconsciously comparing them. You weren’t sure.

“Hey, um,” you turned towards Harry who had begun speaking. Class had ended and you were gathering your things. “We should meet up,” he grinned, “maybe the library?”

You weren’t used to social invitations, much less from men like Harry. 

“Does tomorrow at four work for you?” 

You nodded, unable to find your voice. You felt blood rush to your face at the look he gave you next. It was like he was trying to figure you out, understand you with a simple glance. Like he was trying to read you like a book. 

“Great,” he picked up your bag for you, “looking forward to it.”

+

Peter was laying on your bed when you arrived at your little studio apartment. He was half asleep, strong arms wrapped tightly around your stuffed bunny and surrounded by your assortment of other stuffed animals. He shot up at the sound of the door opening, “hey.”

“Do you ever go home?” you kicked off your shoes and set your bag down. “This place isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

In his mind it was. Just perfect. It kept you close.

“Why would I? You’re such good company, bunny.”

You snorted, “I’m sure that’s the reason and definitely not you trying to get away from Ned and Betty.” 

You moved towards your bed, plopping down next to him, adjusting the skirt of your dress that had ridden up when you landed. Peter watched your hands as they rested on your tummy. He could see right down your dress. He could see the white bra hugging your tits, a little bow between the cups. 

“What?” you asked, self consciously moving your hand to your chin.

“Nothing. Don’t do that,” he looked at the ceiling. It bothered Peter when you did things like that. As if you weren’t the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

You simply huffed, “how did you even get in here?”

He motioned toward the open window, “you really need to start locking it. One of these days a creep could just come waltzing in and you’d have no idea.”

“A creep like you,” you joked with a breathy laugh. You tore your stuffed bunny from his arms.

“Worse,” he said lazily.

Silence filled the room for a few seconds as Peter began to doze off again. 

“I met this guy in class today.”

Peter was suddenly very awake. “Oh,” a pause, “who?”

“He said his name is Harry, I don’t know his last name but he was very nice.” You sounded excited, “we’re meeting up at the library tomorrow to study and get some work done.”

Get some work done. Sure, that’s what you were gonna do. Peter knew better than that. You didn’t, of course. That’s why you were so lucky to have Peter with you, by your side, protecting you from evil college guys who just wanted to get under your skirt. They wouldn’t have a clue what to do to you. How to make you feel good and have you purring sweetly in their ears… 

“So, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t break into my home.”

“Huh?”

You gave him an unamused look, “you weren’t listening.”

He grinned, “I’m always listening.”

You rolled your eyes, “I said, don’t come by just in case we come back here.”

Peter furrowed his brows in disgust. What business would hehave coming back to your apartment if you were just going to study? Did he ask you if he could come over? 

“Why would you do that?”

You shifted uncomfortably, “I don’t know…”

Peter felt sick. 

“We should do something else instead. There’s a new vietnamese place not far from here. MJ says they have really good pho.”

“Peter…” you started. He knew you were going to say no. You rarely said no to him. “How about Friday? We can get takeout and come back here and watch movies. Your pick.” 

His first mistake was looking over at you. Your chubby cheeks and pretty lips pulled up into a sweet smile. Your eyes were pleading, please say yes, please say yes. His second mistake was giving in.

“Fine.”

+

Peter left your apartment shortly after that. You had spent the rest of the night going over the conversation trying to figure out where you went wrong. He had seemed upset as he hugged you goodbye. His brown eyes didn’t hold the same warmth they always did. Maybe he thinks I’m trying to replace him. But that wouldn’t make any sense. You only just met Harry. You didn’t know anything about him besides his first name. 

“Hey!” Harry called, a tad too loudly for the library. He stood from his seat, waving you over.

In all honesty, you didn’t expect him to be there. It was a little before four and you had arrived with low expectations. Though this was only intended to be a study session and nothing more, Harry was a very attractive man. He was funny and charming and extroverted and you… were none of those things.

“Hi,” you mumbled as you neared the table he was seated at. It was in the far corner, furthest away from the librarian. Or any of the other stressed university students. 

“I chose this table so we won’t have to whisper,” he smiled, patting the open seat beside him.

His eagerness made you blush. “Good idea,” your voice was still small.

He chuckled, “thanks,” he dramatically whispered.

You blushed further, “sorry.”

The both of you were silent as you took out your laptops. 

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for some time now,” he started. “I read one of your pieces when the semester started and I really enjoyed it. You’re a phenomenal writer.”

“Really?” he appeared nonchalant as he typed in his password. As if he hadn’t just given you the kindest compliment you had ever received.

“Yeah, it’s so obvious how passionate you are. I mean everytime I look at you, you look so entranced by the books you read or by the professor or your own work.”

He looked at you?

“Oh,” your face felt warmer, “um, thank you.”

He smiled at you, “no problem, it’s true.”

You felt butterflies in your tummy and you began to log into your laptop to avoid looking at him.

You began to work in silence, hyper aware of everytime Harry leaned in close to you, reading your story as you typed. He smelled of musk and vanilla. His head of blonde locks tickled your ear.

Eventually, you presumed he grew bored as he shut his laptop and turned to face you in his chair. You attempted to ignore him but your typing began to slow and your focus was only on the boy beside you.

You gave him a faux look of annoyance, “I thought we were here to study.”

“We are,” he propped his head up on his hand that rested on the table. “To study and get to know each other.” 

Get to know each other. 

That was unexpected. 

You couldn’t ignore the butterflies that erupted in your tummy, “Oh, okay, yeah.”

Surprisingly, you had a decent amount in common with Harry. Of course, not overly so. Not like you and Peter. But this is a good thing. You’re making your own friends.

+

“Oh, he’s so lovely, Pete!” you gushed, your nose wiggling as you spoke.

“Mhm,” Peter watched you with a strange look, mouth full of boba pearls, “you’ve mentioned that.”

You gave him a smile that normally would have made him turn to mush. Only this time, it didn’t. Had you smiled at Harry like that?

“I’m excited!” you waved your hands in the air, “I’m making my own friends, Pete. I’m an independent woman now.”

He rolled his eyes as he took another sip of his tea, “good. Good for you.” He couldn’t help the bitter feeling that rested in the pit of stomach. 

Independent. You had made a single “friend” (Peter didn’t even want to think about that. He knew Harry was just using you, that’s not what friends do. You shouldn’t throw that term around like that. Hewas your friend. Peterwas your friend.) and you already pegged yourself as independent. He could laugh in your face. You were far too pure to face the world without him by your side. Like hell you were independent.

You pouted, your eyes searching for his, “are you angry with me?”

Angry? Why would he be angry? Because you hadn’t shown at your arranged time? Because the reason you were late was because you wanted to squeeze in an extra “study date” with Harry? No, he wasn’t angry. Not at you anyway.

“Of course not, bunny. Could never be.”

It was true, he wasn’t necessarily angry, he was more so slightly bothered by what you had done. That’s how it usually was. You would do something that Peter did not agree with but he would never be angry. Just mildly annoyed. He couldn’t actually be angry with his sweet little bunny. You probably didn’t even know the consequences of your actions. He couldn’t blame you for that.

You smiled, leaning in to give him a hug. Peter was immediately enveloped in warmth, your soft body melding with his. The sweet scent of lavender and honey was all around in. Your hair tickled his neck where you buried your face. You were on your knees on the couch, allowing Peter a view of your backside covered in your lounge wear.

He loved your hugs. They always succeed in lifting his spirits and making him a little dizzy. You were just so warm and soft and perfect for him. 

You pulled away, still smiling as you sunk back into your spot on your tiny, tiny couch and pulling your own tea to your lips. 

He let himself watch as you wrapped your lovely mouth around the straw. A minuscule puddle of milk tea formed on your bottom lip, and you licked it up as you removed the straw. Your tongue was wet and a delightful shade of pink as you slid it across the expanse of your lip.

He felt a throb in his sweatpants. Shifting, he asked, “so, what else did you do today?”

You hummed, chewing the balls of boba in your mouth, “that’s all. Just hung out with Harry. We have a lot more in common than I thought,” you giggled. “We just don’t run out of things to talk about.”

He inhaled, feeling himself go soft, “that’s a lot of talking in the library.”

“Oh, we didn’t go to the library,” you shook your head. 

He gave you a look, “where did you go?”

You looked hesitant, “um, we went to his flat. It was nearby and he had forgotten his books, so it was easier to stay there.” 

How convenient. 

“Bunny,” Peter started. 

You had a guilty look on your face as you stared at him, “I know,” your voice was small, “not safe. I know… but he’s not like the other guys Pete. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“How can you be so sure, hm? You’re in no way prepared to protect yourself. What if he had done something to you? What would you have done?”

“He wouldn’t…” you looked down, “he wouldn’t do anything.” You bit your lip as you nervously whispered, “I think he likes me.”

Peter could hardly hear you. He was sure he hadn’t heard correctly because of how softly you spoke. “Speak up, bunny. I can’t hear you.”

“I said I think he likes me,” you said a little louder. He could see the embarrassment on your face. Like you couldn’t believe you had said that out loud.

Peter swallowed, “oh.” 

There was a pause, “what makes you think that?”

“Well,” your nose fluttered, “he said he’s never met anyone like me. And he,” you glanced up at him before returning your gaze to your lap, “he tried to kiss me.”

Oh. 

Peter didn’t know how to react. He stared at your pretty eyes with his brows cinched and an analyzing gaze. The first thought to pop into his was: did you kiss him?Then:did you want to kiss him?

“Oh,” he managed to say, “did you?”

You inhaled, “um, no…” you trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. “I couldn’t.”

Good. He doesn’t deserve to feel your lips. He doesn’t deserve your first kiss. 

“I don’t know how,” you looked up at him. Your eyes looked glassy and you had a look of embarrassment on your face.

It should have been obvious. Peter did keep any potential love interest as far from you as you could manage, yet he was still flustered.

He hummed, feeling blood rush to his groin, “you don’t?”

You shook your head, “no… never learned how.”

Your lips looked so pretty as you pouted, shame present on your face. Peter wanted to reach over, pull you in close and kiss you softly. He wanted to run his hands through your hair and up your soft curves. To hear your lovely noises as you gave into him. 

He grimaced as the image of Harry’s dirty lips inching closer to yours. Your pure, innocent mouth being tainted by his filthy one. He could have that. What else would he make you do?

He could only imagine your gasp of surprise, your inexperienced movements, your sugary taste. But you were sitting right in front of him, weren’t you? You had enough confidence in him that you would even confess such a thing. He was obligated to help you, wasn’t he? You’re essentially asking for help, right?

“I could,” he paused, unsure, “I could teach you.”

“Really?” You straightened your back a tad, eyes widening at the offer.

You trusted him so much. After all these years that you’d known him, Peter had never once misled you in any way shape or form. He was the person you trusted most because you knew he had your best interest in mind. He was your best friend. He was there to keep you safe.

“Mhm,” he moved a little closer, “if you’d want that, I can.”

You nodded eagerly, “yes, Peter, please.”

Yes, Peter, please…

You sat still as Peter invaded your space.

He licked his lips, you reluctantly placed one hand on your thigh, and the other reaching up to cup your chubby face. The warmth of your being was seeping into him so deep he felt warmer than he ever had.

You looked at him expectantly, your glassy gaze flickering from his golden brown eyes to his lips. 

“Are you ready?” He whispered, mouth mere inches from yours.

You inhaled, “yes, Peter. I wanna be good for Harry.”

He ignored the pang in his chest, “well, you have to be good for me first, bunny.”

You nodded, fluttering your eyes shut. He watched you for a second. Your nose wiggled faintly as you breathed and you sat patiently waiting with your pouty lips puckered up slightly. 

He was able to see it all this close to you. All of your imperfections that he never had the privilege of noticing before. It only made him long for you more.

Peter ignored the thought in his head that said if he knew you’d give into him so easily under the pretense of teaching you, he would’ve offered his services much earlier.

He leaned in, hovering just before your lips, eyeing how your eyebrows furrowed and your lips extended further. But not single complaint about Peter’s excruciatingly slow pace because he knows best, and he knew you knew that.

He could feel your shaky exhales on his skin as he finally connected your lips. He felt himself twitch, once, twice, at the sheer feeling of your lips pressed against his. It was harder to refrain from going further - maybe a hand up your thigh, up your belly and to your tits, maybe wrap them around your neck…

He felt your face contort as he began to finally move his mouth against yours, your kisses were as sloppy as he’d imagined them to be. And he was correct, your inexperience made him painfully hard. He reluctantly removed his hand from your thigh and placed it on his bulge. He just couldn’t resist. You let out a high shaky breath as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, tasting you.

Peter could taste the remnants of your milk tea on your tongue. You attempted to mirror his movements and he felt another throb at your feeble efforts.

He rubbed his hand onto his hard cock to resist the urge to do something completely inappropriate like take your hand to place it on his thigh to get him even closer to his release. He didn’t believe it would take much at all for him to cum. Your mouth moving against his was more than enough.

You began to get the hang of it and it somehow made Peter’s erection even more painful. His hips involuntarily jerked as you wrapped your arms up around his neck, tugging him close. Your thigh brushed against his cock, he sighed. You gasped, your tongue halting its sloppy movements.

He could feel you pulling back and he chased your lips, pushing into you and not permitting you to disconnect your mouths. You leaned back against the arm of the small couch in your attempt to pull away from your best friend’s lips. Peter followed you, body against yours. His cock sat on your thigh and he hoped you couldn’t feel it twitch. 

As his hips made small movements, grinding into your thigh. One of his hands wrapped around the back of your head, keeping you against him, while the other felt up your sides, resting below your tits. You let out a whiny sound as you began to kiss him back again.

Peter’s thrusts became more erratic as he drew closer and closer to the edge. He felt your thigh tense and your hips lifted off the couch, pushing into his lower abdomen. Your arms tightened around his neck. 

Your kisses were still messy, you used far too much tongue and had little technique but Peter had never had a better kiss. He came abruptly when you moaned into his mouth again, hand pulling on the hair at the name of his neck. He pulled away from you and groaned, out of breath into your shoulder as he steadied himself.

“Pete,” you breathed, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be so eager.”

Peter was taken aback. He didn’t respond as he regained his composure into your warm shoulder, inhaling your scent. His cock was slowly going soft but the proximity to you made him believe that it would shoot back up with any movement you made. 

“I just,” a pause, “I guess I got a little carried away.”

It baffled Peter that you thought any of what happened had been your fault. As if he didn’t invade your space and force your head into place so he could get himself off.

“It’s okay, bunny.”

You buried your head into his shoulder and there was no sign of parting for a while. Peter only pulled away when he felt his hot cum seeping through his pants in a wet puddle. His movements were quick when he grabbed a throw pillow and threw it over his lap.

“You know I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

+

You had spent an increasing amount of time with Harry over the last few weeks. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you’d thought he’d have grown bored of you by now. But it seemed the opposite. He texted you often, smiled at you in a way that made you feel warm and special, and he seemed genuinely interested and excited to speak to you. You hadn’t felt that way since you met Peter.

Harry had even asked you out on a date. On Saturday evening he promised to pick you up from your apartment and take you somewhere you’d never been. You had little time to think of anything else because of how excited you were. Harry Osborn wanted to go on a date with you.

It had been the only thing on your mind for the last week. Well, that and your mess of a friendship with Peter Parker.

After the kiss shared with Peter, you had spent less time with him. On top of plans with Harry, you felt guilty for how you acted. You felt that you had taken advantage of him and his kindness. You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and in a way uncomfortable around Peter now. You knew it wasn’t his fault, it was yours. And he deserved better.

You began to ignore his calls and texts and you took different routes to and from your classes. You even stopped replying to Ned and MJ after they began questioning where you’d run off to. In a way that comment made you feel a little ridiculous. It was like they expected Peter to be dragging you around on a leash. Like you were his little pet or something of the like.

That wasn’t Peter’s fault though. You didn’t believe anything was. Peter was a saint in your eyes. Your savior of a life of solace. That’s why you felt the worst you ever had about locking your window. 

The first night, you had pretended to be asleep when you heard light taps on the glass. You closed your eyes and ignored the noise, waiting what felt like hours to move again. 

Now, almost two weeks later, you had finally been confronted.

Peter looked at you with a look you had never seen and couldn’t decipher. His lips were pulled in a tight line and his forehead and eyebrows were creased, his eyes looked darker and his gaze was hard and they held a different feeling. Even the air around him felt different, it was cold and suffocating.

“You’re avoiding me.”

“Hm? Oh, no, no, Pete m’not-“

“You are.”

You opened your mouth to speak but your words were caught in your throat. You were avoiding him. 

“Why? Did I do something to upset you?”

“No,” you took a deep breath, “I’ve just been busy-“

“Busy? With what? Osborn? He keeping you so busy that you can’t even respond to my texts?” 

You felt your lip quiver and your eyes welled up with tears at his tone and his unwavering stare. Peter had never reacted this way towards you. You didn’t even know he could speak that way. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, so you looked down at your feet and attempted to blink away your tears.

Peter looked down at you, waiting for you to say something, anything. He wanted - no, he expected an apology. He had been restless the past few weeks, waiting for you to respond to him. He had been following you around as New York’s friendly neighbor Spider-Man, so he was well aware of what you were up to. He watched as you found new routes to your home, hid away in obscure places and, of course, he watched your giddy expression as Harry Osborn gripped your hand or your waist and walked around with you on his arm like he owned you.

It didn’t help that Peter had seen you locking your window. Double checking, triple checking that you had locked it and then periodically again throughout the day. At first Peter suspected that you had known he got off on your thigh that day, that you were creeped out or disgusted by him. 

“So? What is it? Why have you been avoiding me?”

You sniffled and Peter was surprised by himself when he didn’t soften at the noise. He didn’t feel the usual tighten of his heart nor did his stare on you become less intense. He wanted you to feel like this. It made it feel a sort of power having you vulnerable in front of him, for him.

“Y/N, I’m speaking to you. I expect an answer. Did you lose your ability to speak to me when you started fooling around with Osborn? Neglecting me? Neglecting our friendship? Does it mean so little to you?”

Tears started falling from your eyes at the sound of your name. Peter never called you that. You were his bunny, his best friend. You covered your face with your hands in shame. You weakly shook your head.

“So you can’t speak, hm?” 

Peter could think of a few ways to get you to start talking. Many scenarios to get your pretty mouth moving.

Peter had thought a lot about you recently, somehow even more than normal. His thoughts had turned alarmingly crude the more time you spent away from him. What was once an innocent daydream of kissing your lips turned into a filthy, sordid fantasy of flipping your skirt and fucking you over the table in the library where you studied with Harry.

Flashes of your mouth and body were intrusive thoughts and the feeling of them on him lingered. They left him unable to focus on patrolling, ultimately leading to him jacking off on the roof of the building across the street from your apartment. Some days, he was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of your bare legs through cracks in your sheer white curtains.

“M’sorry Peter,” you peered up at him through teary lashes, “didn’t mean to make you sad.”

He clicked his tongue, “well, you did.”

You let out a sob as you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his waist and tucking your face into his chest. His heart rate kept its steady pace and Peter stood still for a few seconds. Would he forgive you, no, could he forgive you so easily?

He focused on your warmth around him and he felt his walls lower. He begrudgingly hugged you back, taking in the feel of your curves under his fingers. He sighed, “it’s okay, bunny. Don’t cry.”

You wanted to cry harder. Normally, Peter would be cradling your face, wiping your tears and pulling you close, enveloping you in his warmth. It was nothing like his tight grip and cold demeanor he currently had. You hadn’t meant to upset him so much but you just felt so guilty for possibly crossing or blurring the lines of your friendship. 

Peter knew he would give into you. The way you whimpered and cried into his chest made his heart feel heavy. He began to rub your back and he placed a kiss on your head. Your arms tightened around him. 

“C’mon, bunny. It’s okay, we’re okay.”

You whimpered again, doing all you could to collect yourself. Peter held you tightly until you lifted your head. 

Your face was red and puffy, wet with your tears and your eyeliner was smudged at the corners of your bloodshot eyes. Your lips were slightly opened as you breathed through your mouth. Your nose was runny and you sniffled, nose wiggling. Peter felt his pants tighten. You looked so wrecked and it was all for him. Because he was upset with you. Hehad that power over you.

“Are you okay?” concern filled his face.

“Mhm,” you said, a shakily smiling. “Missed you.”

He smiled at you and you felt the warmth return, “I missed you more, bun. Should we catch up?”

You nodded frantically, grabbing his hand and pulling him in the direction of your apartment.

+

Things had since gotten much better. You were in Peter’s grasp once more and Harry Osborn had been moved to the backburner. 

You sighed as you switched your kettle on for a cup of tea. Peter was busy and you were stuck at home alone again. You were bored beyond belief as your eyes flickered from your TV to the warming kettle. You foot tapped on the ground and you all but ran to your phone when the familiar pingcame from it. 

Your eyes widened and excitement erupted in your belly. Harry had sent you a message.

hey stranger… u around?

You contemplated an answer. A part of you felt you shouldn’t respond but another was happy to hear from him.

Maybe

The response was instantaneous.

meet me at the bar

You smiled, rushing to your closet.

After making up with Peter you had begun to neglect your friendship with Harry. You were so focused on keeping Peter happy with you. This had become an increasingly difficult task that required a lot of time and attention.

Peter was easily bothered with you now. His patience would run thin and he would turn cold in the blink of an eye. You had spent nights crying, wishing you hadn’t ruined your most important friendship. But none of that stopped you from trying. 

You knew Peter didn’t like Harry, that was obvious. He’d roll his eyes and stare blankly at you with an expression of disappointment you had seen so much of recently whenever you would mention him in conversation. He made sure to remind you that Harry was just like other boys who wanted to take advantage of you and hurt you but he said nothing more.

As you walked into the cafe, Harry waved his arms in the air. You smiled, blush forming as you took a seat across from him. He looked happy to see you, and he told you that. 

“I missed you, y’know,” he looked down, a pink hue on his cheeks. “Haven’t seen much of you recently.”

“Me too, um, sorry about that. I’ve been a little, um, busy.”

He looked up with a shy grin, “s’okay, I’m happy you’re here now.” You were slightly taken aback by his shyness. 

He paused, licking his lips and taking a deep breath, “so, Y/N, I’ve been thinking…”

Oh no, here it goes. He’s gonna tell you that he can’t see you anymore. That he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore. 

“Would you like to go on a date with me?”

Your heart stopped, a date? You had ever been on a date before. “A date?”

He cleared his throat, looking nervous, “uh, yeah. It’s just, I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I missed you so much the last few weeks. So I thought I’d finally ask.”

You exhaled, trying to process his question. “Yes, I’d love to,” you said, face warm and bashful smile.

+

It was cold outside as you walked back to your apartment. Harry had offered to drive you home but you declined, wanting some time alone to think. 

Your mind was racing as you turned into the alleyway before your apartment. You were going on a date with Harry Osborn. What would you wear? What would you talk about? What would you tell Peter?

You sighed, glancing around the dark alley. There was a spider web hanging from a pipe a few steps ahead of you. You began to walk a little faster. If Spider-Man was around there was likely some sort of criminal activity. Hopefully it wasn’t too close to home.

As you rushed into your apartment, you didn’t bother turning on the lights. You shrugged off your jacket and kicked off your shoes, sighing deeply as you plopped down onto your bed. 

“Where were you?”

Your eyes darted to the source of the noise. The streetlight peering in through the window illuminated him just a tad, barely enough to see his face. But it didn’t matter, you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

“Peter? How did you get in here?” You distinctly remember closing the window, locking it and double checking before walking out the door.

“You were out with Harry. I saw you.”

“Oh, um,” you sat up and pulled your dress down, “W-we were just getting a drink.”

He inhaled deeply and hummed, “just getting a drink.” He let out a dark laugh, “sure you were.”

“We,” you paused, “we were. I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Peter scoffed, “and that’s why you agreed to go on a date with him, hm?”

You opened your mouth to speak but he didn’t let you.

“I thought we’d gotten past this, bunny.” Peter tapped his foot. Did you feel like you didn’t need him anymore? After all he’d done for you? All these years by your side and you abandon him for the first man who gives you the time of day.

“Why don’t you listen to me? I only want what’s best for you. For us.”

You stayed quiet, looking down at your frilly, white socks. Peter sighed and you heard him rise from his spot on the couch. He lifted your chin with his cold fingers. His eyes looked dark again and the darkness of your room added to the eerie feel of him. He leaned down, fingers light on your chin as he drew closer to your lips. You turned your face away before he could connect your mouths.

What was he doing? 

He scoffed quietly as his hold on your face tightened and forced your face to its previous position. You furrowed your brows as you tried to turn away again. 

“Pete, what are you doing?”

“I’m tired of you treating me this way. I deserve better after all i’ve done for you. All these years I have been there for you. I made sure you were okay and I loved you through it all.”

He loved you? You didn’t like the sound of that. Peter was your best friend and nothing more and you dreaded the possibility that he could think of you as something more than that.

“I know that,” you whispered, “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

A tiny smile graced his lips.

You returned it, “and I love you too Peter, you’re my best friend.”

His grip on your chin turned painful.

Best friend. 

He laughed darkly as he shook his head slightly, “best friend.” He smiled.

Feeling uneasy you smiled softly at him, forcing out a giggle.

His smile fell, “bunny, I love you. I want to be with you. I want you to be mine.”

You gulped, “um,” you looked down, “Peter, I don’t, I don’t feel that way about you.”

“Why? Because of Harry? Because you have ‘choices’ now, hm? I’m not good enough for you?”

You stayed quiet, trying to steady your breathing to keep yourself from crying as Peter used his free hand to move up your arm to your shoulder, holding it forcefully.

You didn’t even know Peter was remotely interested in you. The entire confession made you feel sick to your stomach. While you hadn’t known, the revelation didn’t change the fact that, to you, he was just a friend. This had nothing to do with Harry and his romantic interest in you.

“No, Peter, I just, I’m sorry. I don’t like you like that,” you looked down and spoke so softly you doubted he could hear you.

He scoffed, letting go of your chin and shoulder with a push. You steadied yourself, looking up to see him pacing around the room. You wanted to ask him to leave, but before you could he turned to you again.

“He could never treat you like I do.”

“Peter…”

“No! He couldn’t. I know deep down you know that. He wouldn’t know what to do with a pretty girl like you.”

You shifted uncomfortably.

Peter watched as you fiddled with the hem of your dress. It was the purple one again, his favorite. Harry would never be able to satisfy you the way he would. He just needs to find a way to let you know that. No, he has shown you. Everything he had done since you met should have shown you. You were just… ungrateful. He needed to let you know that you couldn’t get away from him. There was no one else that could love you like he could.

Your heartbeat sped up as Peter took long strides towards you. 

“He doesn’t deserve you like I do,” he shoved his knee between your own and forced them open just enough to fit his leg between them. “And I’m gonna show you, that only I know how to treat you. I know what you deserve and I can give it to you.”

You were confused and scared, you watched him cautiously as he stood before you. 

His hand reached for your hair, he touched it lightly. You let out a shaky breath. You didn’t know what he was about to do. You weren’t sure what he was capable of anymore.

His fingers caressed your face, giving your chubby cheeks a light squeeze as he moved his hand down to your neck. You let out a shaky breath as his hands ghosted over your throat.

“Peter,” you whispered, “what are you doing?” 

He smiled, “I’m gonna make you mine, bunny.”

You felt your lip quiver and you hesitantly pushed his chest, trying to get him away from you. “No, Peter. I don’t want this.”

His hands tightened around your neck, “you don’t know what you want. You’re just a dumb bunny. You don’t know what is good for you. I do.”

Tears welled in your eyes as he leaned down to leave wet kisses on your cheeks and jaw, his hands on your throat. 

You moved your face away, side to side, avoiding his lips. His grip cut off your airways as he gave you a shake, “stop.” He pushed you onto your back, attacking you with kisses. 

Tears fell from your eyes as you tried to push him back. You should’ve been able to, even if it was just a little. But he didn’t budge. Your legs kicked his own trying to get him off. He acted like you hadn’t touched him at all. You bit down on his tongue as it forced its way into your mouth, he pulled back in surprise. You took the opportunity to wiggle out from under him, moving as fast as you could towards the door.

Peter’s temper was running thin. With quick movements he activated the web shooter tucked under the sleeve of his plaid shirt.

You barely made it a few steps when you were pulled back. Your eyes went to Peter who was seated on your bed, cold look on his face. The sight of your hand stuck to the table left you in shock. The sticky substance was too strong for you to pull back. You began to sob as you connected the dots. 

Peter was Spider-Man.

You didn’t know how you hadn’t figured it out before. You should’ve known. The random bruises on his body, the overnight strength and agility, the disappearances, the way he always knew where you were and what you were doing… it should’ve been obvious.

“Peter, please, let me go,” you cried, using all the strength you could muster to attempt to free your hand.

He stood from the bed and took slow steps to where you stood. “You’re my little bunny, and you’re not going anywhere until you realize that.”

As he worked to free your hand you took the other and impulsively delivered a harsh slap to his cheek. Peter didn’t react right away. He kept his eyes on your hand for a few seconds before glancing up.

“Ungrateful little bitch.”

You inhaled, trying to stare at him with the same venom that he did you. He continued to free your hand, sliding the little knife across your thumb, slicing it. You hissed in pain. 

You were so confused, this man was nothing like the Peter Parker you knew and loved. This man was pure evil and you wanted to get as far away from him as you possibly could.

Peter stared at you in disbelief. Could you not see that he was only trying to give you the best? He had to make you see it even if it meant by force. He looked into your eyes filled with fear, tearing threatening to fall and your lip quivering. He wanted you so bad and he was finally going to have you.

Peter looked down, watching the slow drops build on your finger tip before falling onto the counter. Your hand was barely trembling and he softened immediately. He hadn’t meant to cut you so deep.

“I’m sorry, bunny. Are you okay?”

His change in demeanor puzzled you, he had went from evil to the gentle Peter you knew and loved. 

You nodded stupidly, “mhm, hurts just a little, Peter.”

“Aw, bunny,” he said softly, taking your sticky hand and bringing it to his lips.

His tender touch had you in his grasp again, like he hadn’t just assaulted you, screamed at you, cutyou.

He placed a soft kiss to your bleeding finger, eyes looking lovingly into yours. You fed into it, like you always did. A drop of your blood rested on his bottom lip, and you watched as he licked it up with a swipe of his tongue. 

He closed his eyes, relishing in the taste of you on his tongue. His cock twitched and he ached to taste your pretty cunt in his tongue. He wasted no time.

Before you knew it, he was throwing you to the bed with ease, flipping your skirt up. He inhaled deeply, feeling his pants tighten further by the sight of your panties. They were just as cute as you. Just what he imagined you’d wear, yet somehow it was better. Your panties were a pale pink color, little hearts a darker shade of pink littering the fabric. He couldn’t help but stare, taking in the view of your pretty panties covering your perfect, plump ass. 

Cries escaped you, pleas for him to just stop. He ignored them, instead giving your right ass cheek a little slap. He moaned at the cry you made, the way your flesh rippled at the impact.

You had been fooled once again. The Peter Parker you once knew was long gone.

Peter looped his fingers under the delicate fabric, your skin warm, he pulled up roughly. You yelped, arching your back to relieve the pain, but it only gave Peter a better look at your puffy pussy, bulging against the fabric he had pulled. 

“Oh,” he cooed, leaning down and placing a kiss to your ass.

Tears pricked at your eyes again, threatening to fall as you tried to rack your brain for ideas on how to get yourself out of the current situation. You gasped at the abrupt feeling of cold air on your cunt. The tears began to fall.

Unable to control himself, Peter placed a sloppy wet kiss to your cunt. You gasped loudly, trying to move your ass away. He held your hips tightly in place, pressing pecks along the entirety of your backside. A strangled moan fell from your lips as he kissed your clit. 

Peter stared at your pussy, admiring the wet string of slick that drilled from your little hole. He felt a sense of accomplishment at the drip of slick, he was making you feel good even when you resisted. Extending his tongue from his mouth, he licked up your slit, flicking his tongue as he did so. He moaned at the taste of your sweet juices. 

He finally let himself loose, allowing himself to bury his head into your puffy cunt. His hands groped your thighs, kneading them, keeping them apart so he had good access to your cunt.

You tried to hold in your body’s reactions. You held your breath, curled your toes and turned your hands to fists. But you couldn’t stop a loud mewl as Peter swirled his tongue around your sensitive bud. You bit your lip as you contained sobs. 

Your fingers grabbed onto your sheets, squeezing them tightly as you felt yourself becoming more aroused. The lewd sounds from Peter combined with the wet sounds of your pussy. Peter was basically drooling, strings of spit and slick keeping him attached to you even when he pulled back for air. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of you.

You felt a coil form in your tummy, tightening with every passing second.

“Are you gonna cum for me, bunny?” Peter asked, his voice deep. 

Your body was trembling and your hips unconsciously pressed into his face. You shook your head, closing your eyes tightly as your mouth opened involuntarily, loud cry slipping out as the coil snapped. You shook, your knees going weak as your body was overtaken by the pleasant, but unfamiliar sensation. 

Peter groaned into your sopping cunt as he licked up your release. His cock was so hard it was painful, his mindless humping on your sheets wasn’t nearly enough. He held you up when your body gave in, on the verge of going limp as he continued his movements on your pussy long after you had become sensitive.

“Peter, please stop, hurts,” you managed to blubber out.

He pulled away, a string of spit connecting you. He watched as it snapped, falling onto his plaid shirt. He licked his lips, sliding his arms out from under your thighs. Your lower half hit your bed and you were unable to move. Your pussy throbbed from overstimulation as you laid dumbly. Weak little moans falling from your mouth. 

Peter reached a hand up to wipe at his face, collected the excess juices and inserted his fingers into his mouth to consume it. He savored the taste, watching as your body jolted from the aftershocks of your orgasm. The skirt of your dress was scrunched around your waist and your ass was glistening under the streetlights from where he had drooled over it. Your thighs were in the same position they were in when he dropped them. He felt himself twitch, you were too weak to move them. 

Harry couldn’t have made you cum like that. He probably would even eat you out. What a waste of a sweet cunt that would be. He could live off your pussy alone he was sure of it. 

Peter rested a hand on your lower back as he stood from the bed. You glanced over at him, relieved that he was going to leave you alone. Your tears had stopped and you felt them drying on your cheeks. 

When Peter pulled off his plaid shirt and the gray t-shirt under it, you wanted to scream. You wanted to get up and push him out of your apartment. He had just forcefully inflicted oral sex onto you and were terrified of where he wanted to go next. 

You couldn’t help your stare on Peter’s toned body. His defined abdomen and strong arms were illuminated perfectly under the soft light. You wanted to slap yourself as you felt yourself become slightly aroused.

You managed to sit up, slowly and gently seating yourself down. You instinctively reached for your stuffed bunny. You held it to your chest as you watched Peter fiddle with his belt. “Peter,” you called quietly.

Your hair was a mess and you had faint black tracks going down your chubby face. Your lipstick was smudged. Your thick, soft arms were clinging to your bunny. The bunny he had gifted you years ago. Your dress was askew and barely covered your thighs. 

“Yes, bunny?” he pulled off his belt.

“Please stop now. I’m sorry I upset you.”

He sighed and simply shook his head. “I helped you, now you need to help me.”

Helped you? You didn’t ask for his help. 

“But-”

“Look at what you did, bun,” he pulled off his underwear as he tugged off his pants. His cock sprung free and slapped his stomach. It was big and long and thick, protruding veins ran up its length, leading to an angry red tip. You felt your lip wobble, you weren’t even sure if it would fit. “It hurts and only you can make it feel better. You caused this. It’s your fault that this is happening.”

You weren’t sure what to think. Was this your fault? 

“Lay back for me, bunny.” he motioned to the bed. “I need gonna fuck your pretty pussy.”

You shook your head. 

Peter rolled his eyes, “do what your told, stupid bunny. Don’t act like you don’t like it. Couldn’t you feel how wet you were for me?”

You stayed in place. He clenched his jaw and grabbed your ankles, pulling you until your back hit the cushion of your mattress. You tried to kick the hold of his wrists from your feet. 

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he felt up your thigh, eyeing you in a way that made you feel self conscious. You felt like prey.

“I always like this dress,” he said, tugging it up your body. Peter pulled your bunny from your arms to pull the material over your head. “It’s my favorite one. Looks so beautiful on you.” 

You reached for the bunny to cover yourself but were unable to reach it. You wrapped your arms around your tummy. Peter clicked his tongue, “no.” He leaned down to press kisses over your middle and he pried your hands away for better access. You felt tears brimming.

He pulled your bra off with ease, absentmindedly as he ran his mouth over your skin. You gasped and turned away, refusing to watch. You felt his tongue find your nipple and you hated the way it aroused you. He groaned and you felt his cock against your thighs. He kneaded your breasts as he kissed up your neck. He looked you in the eye as his cock found your cock, running up and down the slit. 

“It’s gonna feel so good, bunny. You’re gonna crave my cock after. You’re gonna realize that no one is better for you than me. Fuck, you’re so warm and soft.” 

His cock twitched on your pussy, causing you to inhale shakily. 

Peter was so ready to be inside you. The warmth your cunt radiated made his cock ache so bad. He pushed his cock through your fold, watching as your face contorted. Your hole was pulling him in as soon as his cock head reached your entrance. It was like you were made to take him. 

Your face had a pained expression painted over it and your hole contracted. 

“Relax, bunny. Or it’s gonna hurt a lot more than it needs to. You were doing so well just now.”

He was too big, the further he sank into you, the more it hurt.

He couldn’t resist the involuntary thrust of his hips. You jolted up at the strength of them. As he pulled out he looked down. The sight of your loose tits, belly rolls, and puffy pussy around his cock made him feral. The red coat of blood on his pelvis made him feel a sense of accomplishment. He had you first.

He finally had you. All of you. And he deserved it all after everything he’d done.

Peter forced his way in until he bottomed out. Relishing in the way your tight pussy squeezed him. He knew it hurt from the way you had begun to cry and the way your body shook but he didn’t care. You’d adjust. Soon you’d be a stupid cockwhore. What he always wanted you to be. All for him. 

“Ow,” you cried, reaching your hand up his back, seeking comfort.

“You feel so good,” he moaned.

Peter began a slow pace, pulling out just a little before sliding back in. your nails dug into his back as your head moved side to side, whines and cries leaving your lips. More and more slick came from your hole as he continued his abuse. 

Soon enough his thrusts had gotten faster, harder and your thoughts were few and far between.

Fuck. 

I don’t want this.

Feels so good.

Peter’s hands were all over you. Running up your sides, squeezing your soft skin, playing with your clit, and caressing your face as tears fell from your eyes.

You weren’t sure when you had begun to cry or whether it was due to pain or pleasure. 

Peter moved his lips to rest on yours, kissing you in sync with his thrusts. You whined, moving your face from away, “no, stop.”

 His hand that rested on your bouncing tits delivered a quick, harsh slap to your cheek. You cried out, tears falling faster. Peter pinched your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. You opened your eyes, watching as he spit into your mouth, a string of spit lingering. You clenched around him.

Peter chuckled, “you liked that. Dirty slut.”

You had stopped fighting him, too caught up in the feeling of his cock in your cunt. Peter knew you would. He knew you loved him, too. 

He fit so perfectly inside you, like you were meant for him.

A string of “Hm, uh, uh's” and breathy high pitched noises fell from your lips with every thrust Peter made. The noises harmonized with the squelching sounds of your wet pussy. It was music to Peter’s ears. The prettiest noises he had ever heard.

Soon, you felt a coil in your belly. It snapped a part of you back into reality, while the other was dumb on the feel of Peters cock.

“Peter, hm, Peter, uh stop, m’gonna-”

Peter shushed you, sloppily kissing your neck, “cum for me.”

You were lightheaded, the feeling was too good. Peter suckled at your soft spot and you felt yourself cum with a high whine. Your orgasm was more intense this time. Your mind was blank as tears poured from your eyes and your body tensed. Your back arched off the mattress and you scratched down Peter’s back, holding him close.

Peter felt dizzy, you were everywhere. He could feel you everywhere and he had never felt such ecstasy. He twitched inside you as your cunt clenched around his cock deliciously. 

You weren’t able to contain your moans as you cried harder, salty tears saturating the sheets beneath your head as he fucked you past your orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum inside you,” he said, voice deep with desire. The way your pussy fluttered around him became too much.

“N-no,” you shaky moved your hands down to his pelvis, pushing with all the strength your weak body could muster. “P-peter, don’t want,” black mascara-stained tears streamed down your face, your lipstick smudged up to your nose, you looked absolutely wrecked.

“I didn’t fucking ask,” his voice was near a growl, “m’gonna cum in this pretty, puffy pussy. Listen to it scream for me, pulling me back in, fluttering around me. You want this.”

You shook your head, pushing once again, you let out a choked sob as he thrusted particularly hard, “N-no.”

Peter moaned loudly, squeezing your plump waist as he stilled. 

You could feel his hot, hot cum painting your walls. You felt a weight on your heart, he had coaxed multiple orgasms from you, stolen them and your innocence along with them. And now, he was inside of you. His cum had likely forced its way into your cervix, mingling with your most intimate of places. 

A small part of you liked it. You tried your hardest to ignore that part of you that enjoyed being full. So full of Peter. He was the best for you, after all. 

Peter thrusted a few more times, dreading the thought of leaving your tight, warm hole. 

You were everything he had ever imagined. You plump body, your sugary sweet taste, your beautiful noises…

He would never let you go.

Peter gave your limp body a final kiss. You were too fucked out to react. As he pulled out of you he stared at your puffy cunt. It was wet with slick and sweat. Cum slid out of the abused hole. He took his finger and pushed it back in, loving the way you jolted and tried to close your legs.

Peter Parker loved to look at you. Even more so now, with you bare in front of him. Your skin glistening under the rays of the artificial streetlights outside your window and remnants of your innocence on his cock.

kinda rude andrew!peter parker doesn’t exist irl lol

Ava’s Mini Event!!

Hello everyone! I’m officially back, done with exams & doing better mentally so I thought we could have fun.

Send me any prompt/dialogue from the lists below and I’ll write them { i.e. “I miss you.” + selina }

Requests Status: open until April 24

TO BE MISSED PROMPTS

SINCERELY YOURS PROMPTS

HOZIER PROMPT LIST

200 RANDOM DIALOGUES +MORE DIALOGUES

SUBTLE SMUT PROMPTS

❧ Thank you to the original posters for these!

❧ All drabbles / dialogues will use she/her pronouns. I won’t get back to all requests but I will do my best

❧ Block gotkindabored.nsfw for notsfw posts

“I missed you.”

Relationship: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader
Drabble Summary: Peter arrives at your window drunk
Word Count: 491
A/N: my fixation on TASM!Peter continues and, as always, he is of college-age in this fic just for clarity. i hope you enjoy this sweet little piece i threw together the idea came to me randomly while i was in the car lmao

Masterlist

You were lounging on your bed, reading a book, when a soft knocking at your window caught your attention. You shut your book and glanced at your window, unsure.

This wasn’t exactly a new occurrence for you. Your boyfriend being, well, Spider-Man, meant he’d come knocking every now and then. But something about these knocks was just…off. They were gentle, slow, yet still erratic. Peter’s knocks were usually stronger, maybe sometimes even panic-y.

You closed your book, wielding it like a weapon, as you slowly got out of bed. You couldn’t imagine who would show up at your apartment window with the goal of robbing the place or hurting you, but still. The alarms in your head were going two-forty.

Tip-toeing across your room, you peeked around the window frame to find…Peter. You lowered your book as you stared at your boyfriend, confused. He was watching you on the other side with a glossy, dazed look in his eyes. His hair was a mess and he was wearing street clothes, no suit. He lifted a hand and waved eagerly.

“Peter?” You said as you finally opened the window. “Wh-What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You did another glance over him but you couldn’t make out scratches or anything. Yet something still seemed off about him.

“H-Hi, babe,” he replied, a little hiccup in his words. “Missed you…” His words trailed off as a silly grin spread on his lips.

Your confusion slowly dissipated as you realized what was going on. “Are you drunk?”

“Me? Drunk?” Peter laughed and shook his head dramatically. “I—What? I could never. I’m a superhero, babe, we do not—.” He hiccuped again, making him lose his train of thought.

“Peter, I’ve seen you drunk before. I know what it looks like.”

Peter giggled. Like an actual giggle. “You’re so smart, babe.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand, pulling him into the apartment. You forced him to sit down on your bed while you went to get some water for him.

“I can’t believe you got drunk and scaled the side of my building,” you said as you came back with water in hand. Peter had made himself very comfortable on your bed, lounging against your pillow.

“I missed you,” he mumbled as he sipped the water.

You sat down beside him. “You see me almost every day, silly.”

He sighed, his head lolling towards you. “Yes, but I missed you tonight. I missed my gorgeous, funny, smart, lovely, pretty, delicious—,”

“Delicious?”

“—delicious girlfriend,” Peter said as he cuddled up next to you. “Excuse me, for wanting to see her.”

You chuckled and kissed the top of his head. “You know, you could’ve just used the front door to see me.”

“That’s not romantic,” he replied, another hiccup slipping out.

“And this is?”

One of his arms snaked across your waist. “Yes,” Peter said. “Yes, it is.”

Relationship: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings: Mentions of sex, suggestive language, crappy title (i’m sorry)
Summary: You find the hickeys Peter left on you last night
A/N: This is a short, cute thing that came to me in my sleep last night lmao I’m sorry I’m on a bit of a TASM!Peter kick lately. Peter is college-age in this which is very obvious but im still mentioning it here lmao please enjoy :)

Masterlist

Usually, it was your alarm clock waking you up for your 8 A.M. lecture. But today, it was your annoying yet adorable boyfriend attacking your neck that roused you from your sleep.

You giggled, playfully trying to push him off. Of course, he didn’t budge. “Peter, seriously?”

Peter had surprised you last night by showing up at your dorm. His Friday lecture had been canceled and he thought that’d give him the perfect chance to come to visit you. You two had spent a lovely first night together but unlike him, you did have a Friday lecture to get to.

“Mmm, sorry,” he muttered into your neck as his hands ran up and down your sides. “Can’t seem to get enough of you. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, honey, but you can have more of me after class,” you replied as your alarm clock went off on your bedside table. Going to a different college than your boyfriend was tough but you know what else was tough? Passing your classes.

“Skip it,” Peter replied.

You gasped at his suggestion. “Is the genius Peter Parker telling me to skip class?”

“He is,” Peter said and lifted his head from your neck. He looked at you with tempting, pleading eyes. “And I think you should listen to him. He is a genius after all.”

You laughed and shook your head, taking the chance to slip out from Peter’s grip. He whined at the loss of contact. You ignored his silly antics as you rifled through your closet, hunting for an outfit.

“I’ll be gone for an hour at most,” you said as you pulled on the comfiest outfit you could find — because, come on, Friday class — and headed over to your mirror to start on your make-up. “You can lounge around here or…”

Your words died out as you took in your rough appearance. It took all your strength not to scream as you whipped your head to your boyfriend who was completely oblivious to what you had just found. He was laying on the dorm bed, flipping through one of your textbooks.

“Or what, babe?” Peter asked, still unaware of the anger that was beginning to boil in you.

You promptly ignored his question and asked, “Peter, what the hell is this?”

“One of your textbooks,” he replied. “You know, this all seems a little—,”

“No, Peter, I’m not talking about the damn textbook,” you said, your voice just nearly at a scream. Your tone made Peter finally look up at you. “I’m talking about the fact it looks I took a million paintballs to the neck.” You motioned dramatically towards the string of hickeys that painted your skin, ready to burst. It wasn’t unusual for either of you to leave marks on one another but you tried to refrain from it when one of you had something to do the next morning. Something like — going to class.

Peter, however, wasn’t phased at all. A cocky, cheesy grin slowly broke out on his lips as he took in the marks he had shamelessly made on you last night. There wasn’t even an ounce of remorse in his eyes.

“I didn’t hear you complaining last night,” he said with a laugh. “You were screaming but it wasn’t from anger.”

You felt your skin get warm as the memories of your late-night activities flooded your brain — No, you couldn’t get distracted by that. You pushed back the thoughts.

“I have class to go to, Peter,” you whined as you began fumbling for your foundation. You didn’t actually normally wear heavy make-up, your foundation only being used in desperate times. Like now. “I barely have time for this.”

Peter sat up on the bed. “Then leave them,” he said with a shrug. That ridiculous smirk was still plastered on his face.

You shot him a look in the mirror. “I can’t go to class with all…this on my neck. What on earth would my classmates think?”

Peter barked out a laugh. “Maybe that you have a partner who knows how to please you?”

“Peter, that’s…” You shook your head but didn’t know where to go with your words. You eyed your foundation, trying to ignore the little stirring that began in your stomach at his words. Well, when you put it that way…

When you turned your attention back to the mirror, Peter was suddenly behind you. You nearly jumped, having not heard him approach. He was sporting only a pair of grey sweatpants that were hanging tempting low.

“That’s what?” He asked as his hands snaked around your waist and his head fell to your shoulder. Your gaze met his in the mirror. “That’s a good idea? That’s a great idea? I am a genius, according to you.”

Gosh, he was never going to let that go. “It’s just… It’s not very professional, is it?”

“If you’re so worried about it,” he muttered into your neck, “why don’t you skip class today and come back to bed? We’ll let those marks heal, hmm?”

You squirmed beneath his touch, a light, breathy laugh leaving your lips. “Are you really going to let them heal? Or are you just going to add more to the collection?”

“Hmm,” he sighed, “haven’t decided yet. Why not come back to bed and find out?”

“You’re ridiculous, Peter,” you said as he began pulling you away from the mirror and towards your dorm room bed. It was the complete opposite of what you should be doing, but you didn’t have the strength to fight it.

“But you love me,” Peter replied.

“Yeah,” you muttered, “I guess so.”

The next thing you knew, you were being pulled down into the sheets once again.

MULTIVERSE - A.G!P.P

Warnings: fem!reader if that’s a warning, children, marriage, emotional conversations, not much else, it’s pretty fluffy

Summary: You are Peter Parkers wife and when you get pulled into another dimension with him and have to help these kids, you realise you can help this version of you in another universe.

Word Count: 2.4 k

It had been a regular day, you were waiting for Peter to come home from patrol, Aunt May was in the other room with baby Ben. But now it was midnight and he should have been home by now, the panic setting in. 

You walked into the other room, pulling May aside. But not before you checked on Ben, making sure he was okay. 

“Peters not back yet, I-I’m gonna try calling him again, can you watch Ben for a bit?” you asked. May wrapped her arm around your shoulders, both of you looking over the sweet little boy laying in the crib. He looked just like Peter, those bright brown eyes staring up at you and those sweet little locks of curly hair on his head. 

You sighed, walking over to your shared bedroom with your husband before grabbing your phone, dialing Peter’s number for the third time tonight. Sure, he would sometimes be out on patrol late but he’d always call to let you know. 

“Hey Pete, just wanted to check on you,” you said, leaning against the wall with a frustrated sigh, “You’re late, Ben just woke up again but May’s here. Do you need any help? Please call me back," 

All of a sudden, you could feel your body beginning to evaporate and you were in a random apartment bedroom that looked just like yours but wasn’t. 

Peter was looking around the streets. One second he was heading home and the next, he had disappeared and was in the same alleyway but everything seemed different. 

He swore under his breath before swinging to the nearest phone and dialing your number. Someone answered the phone, a male voice asking who it was. Instantly, he froze, dread sinking into him. 

"Where’s Y/N?” He asked, his voice stern and harsh. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know anyone called Y/N,” the man said, “I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong number man," 

Peter instantly looked around, scanning the alleyway for you. He couldn’t let what happened to Gwen happen to you. He didn’t know how he’d live with himself if he let someone hurt you and Ben. 

Whilst all of his fears were running through his head, he saw a portal open in the distance from the alleyway. With a confused look, he walked towards it, hearing people calling out his name. 

When he walked in, he looked around at the two teenagers standing there. Suddenly, an older woman threw a cushion at him and the portal that he had walked through closed. 

He pulled the mask off, looking around and staring at the people. You weren’t here. 

"I’m Peter Parker, Spiderman,” he looked around, narrowing your eyes, “I was in my world but then I came here this morning, and now I’m here,”

They looked at him, the young girl MJ narrowing her eyes at him, “So it wasn’t just the villains,” Ned stated. 

“So you’re telling me that matter displacement, multidimensional theory, its all real?” He asked and they nodded their heads. He smiled, a wide grin on his face as he looked around. 

“But that doesn’t answer our question, where is our Peter?” MJ asked.

“Prove it, prove you are Peter Parker?” MJ said, folding her arms across her chest with a defiant look. 

“I don’t really carry ID with me, it kind of defeats the secret identity thing,” he said before reaching into the small pocket by his side. He pulled out a photo of you, him and Ben before putting it back in his pocket, “Listen, I really need to get home,”

“Doesn’t matter,” MJ said before throwing a piece of bread at him that was sitting on the table.

“What was that for?” Peter asked, looking at her confused as the bread bounced off of him. 

“I wanted to see if you have the Peter Tingle,” she said before picking up an orange off the table and throwing it at him. 

He looked at her with confused gaze, “I have the Peter Tingle but now for food,” he said before looking around, “You are a very distrusting person and I respect that,” he jumped up, his hand sticking to the ceiling to show that he really was Spiderman. 

“Crawl around,” MJ ordered. 

He raised his eyebrows, “Crawl around?” He questioned as if it was the craziest idea in the world. 

“We need more proof that you’re Spider Man,” she explained and the guy next to her stood awkwardly there. 

With a sigh, he jumped up, crawling around a bit and even fulfilled Ned’s Lola request of cleaning the cobweb in the corner. “We good?” He asked when he came down

“For now,” she narrowed her eyes at him before turning to Ned, “Let’s keep doing it until we find the real Peter,”

Ned nodded his head, holding his hand out, “We want to find Peter,” he said, waving his hand around to reveal another person. This time, an older man walked out dressed in clothes suitable for a youth pastor, “Oh, it’s just some random guy,”

“Hope it’s okay, I just came through the portal,” he said before turning around, looking at it close, “Oh, it’s closed now,”

“Peter?” Ned questioned as he looked at the man. 

Then the man noticed the other Peter that stood behind them. They both looked at each other before simultaneously shooting their webs at one another to see if they really were both Peter Parkers. 

“So you’re Spider Man too?” Ned questioned before Lola walked in, saying something, “Also you two need to clean up the webs that you shot,”

They apologised to Lola before the second Peter looked at them all, “Well, I generally don’t go around advertising it,” he said. 

When they found their Peter, they all comforted him over the death of his version of Aunt May. He blamed himself for it and they didn’t feel good about it. 

“I lost my MJ once,” your Peter explained, his eyes tearing up, “I wasn’t fast enough to save her. I became bitter and stopped pulling my punches, I became full of rage,” he took a deep breath, looking at the young boy in front of him, “Then someone else stepped into my life and, and everything just became clear," 

He had met you in high school and you had always been friends with him. You had helped him through everything but when Gwen died, you had helped him recover and find himself again. 

The three different Peters walked into the labs to work on their work. The first thing your Peter did was rush over to Ned, "Hey, is there any way that you can check with your magic hands if uh, my wife Y/N is here,” he asked and Ned raised his eyebrows. 

“You have a wife in this reality?” Ned questioned and he smiled.

Peter nodded his head, pulling the picture from his pocket, “And a son,” he said, a huge proud grin on his face, “I just want you to see if she’s here’s, and my son Ben, I don’t want them to just be out there,”

Ned smiled to himself before closing his eyes, “Find Y/N Parker, and Ben Parker,” he said, moving his hands around. 

A portal opened and through it, Peter saw you, a relieved smile on his face. You stormed through it, hitting him on the chest, “Where the hell am I?” You asked but he just pulled you closer into a hug. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he placed his hands on your face so that you were now looking at him, “How’s Ben? Is he at home with May? Did he come here with you?”

“Idiot, he’s at home with May. He’s fast asleep, now will you please explain to me why you didn’t call and where I am?” You asked, watching as everyone in the laboratory watched you and Peter interact. 

“This is another universe, these are two other Peter Parkers,” he explained, pointing at two people behind him, “And we’re going to help cure the villains, like max,” she nodded, listening to him explain. He turned to look at everyone, “Guys this is my wife, Y/N,”

You looked around, smiling awkwardly before waving at the group of people. “Hey, um, do you need any help?” You asked, incredibly nervous. 

“You seem awesome,” the girl said with a smile on her face and she lead you to the corner to show you how you could help out. “I’m MJ,” she held out her hand and you shook it. 

“I, surprisingly, am also MJ but nobody’s called me that since high school. Y/N Mary Johnson, but uh, I just go by Y/N Parker now,” you explained and the girl smiled, realising that maybe she could have what you and Peter have. 

“Well this is the stuff, I can help you a bit but I’m not really the chemistry one,” she explained and you nodded, “Peter is,” you both said at the same time, chuckling afterwards. 

“Do you know if there’s like an interdimensional phone so I can reach May, I have expressed milk at home but she should probably know that I haven’t just abandoned my kid,” you explained, kind of rambling on a bit. 

“We haven’t been able to figure that out yet,"  MJ said before looking around, almost seeming anxious to say the next words, "How does it work, with you and Peter and the whole spiderman thing,”

You smiled to yourself. She wanted what you had with your Peter, a life where she could balance love and the rest of her life. She was just like you in so many ways. 

“It’s hard. He comes home late and struggles with the pressure and he’s scared of losing us; but it means the streets are safe. And he’s always there for Ben and for me and it works,” you explained, nudging her in the shoulder, “and hey, you two will make it work as well. Peters and MJs always end up together anyway,”

Your Peter looked over at you. He didn’t know how he deserved someone so smart and amazing who understood all aspects of his life. The worry he felt every day wondering if you and Ben would be okay. The fear of how stable his job was. The joy of being with his family. You understood it all. 

“It’s sweet they can talk,” your Peter said to the other Peter as they worked on the cures for the villains, “About dating spiderman,” he chuckled to himself, “God that sounds so weird,”

“Yeah, with everyone knowing my identity, I don’t want her life to be ruined because of it,” The younger Peter explained, looking over at you and MJ as you laughed together. 

“I know it sounds hard, but you can make it work. If you love MJ, it’ll work out. Because seeing the woman you love standing at the end of the aisle, seeing her holding your child in her arms,” he chuckled to himself, taking a deep breath as he looked over at you, “It makes all the worries and fears of being Spiderman evaporate in seconds,”

Once it was all over and they had managed to save everyone, the Peter from this reality was going to have to erase everyone’s memories so that everything would be fixed. 

You walked up to MJ, “Listen, before you say goodbye, remember what I told you. This is gonna work out, MJs and Peters belong together. And anyway, if you ever need a girl chat, try to discover interdimensional texting,” she said, pulling the girl in for a hug. 

“Thanks,” she said, wiping the tears away before walking over to her Peter. So you said goodbye to everyone and walked over to yours. 

“It was lovely to meet you other Peter,” you said, pulling him into a hug. 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” he said before wincing and you realised you had leant on his stab wound. You apologised and he just laughed. 

“Let’s go home,” you said, taking your Peters hand in yours. He nodded, pulling your hand up, pressing his lips against your knuckles. 

“Let’s go home,” he repeated. 

That same tingling feeling that was there when you first appeared in this world appeared again and you appeared in your apartment. It was like no time had passed at all.

But Peter wasn’t there. 

The first thing that you did was run towards your baby’s room in that cheap New York City apartment and pull him into your arms, cradling him against your chest. 

Almost in an instant, Peter was swinging through that window, ripping the mask off and looking at you with tears in his eyes. 

He rushed towards you, placing his hand on your cheek and pulling you in for a soft kiss, holding you and your son close. 

“Does anyone want to tell me what is going on?” Aunt May asked and you both looked at her, forgetting that she was even there. 

You both looked at each other, a sense of knowing in your eyes. You’d done something good today, helped influence these kids’ lives even if they were going to forget it in the next moment. 

Did I like this. No. Did I have fun writing it though. Yeah, I kind of did.

FALLING - A.G!P.P

Warnings: Sadness, a bit of fluff, memory loss, fighting, near death experience.

Summary: As Neds older cousin, you never felt like you really fit in with them. Until he turned up and made your entire universe turn upside down. So how does this affect both of you and the turns your futures make?

Word Count: 3.2 k

You stood in Ned’s kitchen with him and MJ, trying to find Peter using Ned’s newfound powers of the mystic arts. “I just wish I could see him,” Ned yelped, circling his hands and making a portal form from thin air. Inside of that orange portal was someone in a spider suit, standing in an alleyway. 

“Peter!” You called out, the others joining in so that the man turned around and started walking towards them. But when he stepped into the light, you noticed he had a different suit on. 

He took off his mask and you all stared at him in shock. He wasn’t your Peter Parker. Instead, it was a man in his twenties with messy brown hair atop his head. You felt your heart skip a beat and his gaze lingered on yours in a strange way that made your stomach flutter. 

“Who the hell are you?” You asked, picking up a rolling pin from the side and pointing it at the man, “Where is Peter Parker?”

“I am Peter Parker. In my world anyway, I suddenly appeared here the other day,” he looked around, waving his arms around, you explained to him about the different universe and he just smiled, “Multidimensional reality theory, its all real. This is insane,”

He had this wide grin on his face as he realised he was in a different dimension. You stepped forward, narrowing your eyes, “That still doesn’t answer the question, where is our Peter?”

“Your Peter?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at the three. 

“Well how do we know that you’re Peter Parker?” MJ asked and this other Peter pat himself down. 

“I don’t really carry ID with me, it kind of defeats the purpose,” he explained. MJ shook her head, picking up an orange from the table and throwing it at him, “Why did you do that?”

“I wanted to see if you had the tingle thing,” MJ answered, shrugging her shoulders like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I have the tingle thing but just not for bread,” he explained and you rolled your eyes, looking over at MJ. He jumped up, his hand sticking to the ceiling as he tried to prove he was spiderman. 

“Crawl over the ceiling,” MJ requested. 

“Crawl over the ceiling?” Peter repeated. She nodded her head and he sighed. With a strong jump, he leapt onto the ceiling and began to crawl around in a bid to show them he was Spider man. 

Ned’s lola walked over, saying something before he translated it for them, “My Lola asked if you can get that cobweb in the corner,”

You chuckled to yourself, not noticing the slight smile on Peters face as he crawled into the corner and brushed it away for her

When he came down, he looked over at the three of you. “I think that’s enough,” he stated, looking at you as if you saw him as a dancing monkey.  

“Just keep doing the magic thing till we find the real Peter,” MJ said, brushing off the slightly hurt look on Peter’s face. 

Ned spun his hands around again and the portal opened. This time, an older man in his thirties walked out in regular clothes, “I hope its okay that I came through this,” he said before turning around, “Oh, it closed,”

“Peter Parker?” You asked, realising this was probably him from a different universe. 

When he noticed the other Peter Parker, the first one that had arrived, they both stared at each other intensely. All of a sudden, they both shot their webs at each other, the three of you jumping out of the way. 

When they had calmed down, the second Peter who had arrived was talking to MJ and you were talking to the first Peter, asking him about his life and where he came from. 

“So, how, uh, do you know your Peter?” Peter asked as he stood next to you whilst the others brainstormed ideas of where their Peter might be. 

“Oh, I’m Ned’s older cousin. I live with them but I’ve never quite fit in, you know,” you said, turning to look at him. He had this intrigued look on his face, like he was listening to every single word that you said. 

“You okay?” You asked and he seemed to shake out of that trance. 

“Yeah, yeah, just tired,” he explained. You saw through the fake smile he put on but decided not to pry, you had only known him for 20 minutes. 

They rushed to the rooftop where MJ thought that their Peter would have gone. It was a beautiful night and they found him sitting there, tears in his eyes.

MJ and Ned knelt down next to him, embracing them in a hug. He cried to them about how he felt about Aunt May’s death and you felt for him but didn’t want to intrude. 

“We have some people we want you to meet Peter,” MJ said and Peter looked up at the other two Peters who had approached. 

He stood up, shaking his head as he looked at them, not knowing who they were, “I’m sorry they dragged you in here but I’m done, you don’t understand,” he threw his hands up in anguish, not wanting anyone else to get hurt like she had. 

“I lost someone too,” the first Peter who had appeared explained and everyone went quiet, your gaze turning to him, “She was my version of MJ, I couldn’t save her either,” his eyes were full of tears and you could see how much this was hurting him, “But I carried on because that’s what she wanted. Until there came a point where I stopped pulling my punches and became full of rage,”

He couldn’t meet your gaze. What you didn’t know is that you reminded him of her. Of Gwen. You had the same smile and the same positive outlook on life. It was all too much and not enough at the same time. 

Once again, you felt left out even though  Ned was your cousin. You couldn’t comfort Peter, you couldn’t advise him like the other two could. 

They decided to go back to the labs at Midtown High to be able to use their facilities to cure these people. Because that’s what Peter knew Aunt May would want him to do. 

You tried to help as much as you could, but with your lack of science knowledge, you weren’t as much of a help but you still tried. 

“Peter,” Ned called back and they all answered. 

You chuckled as Ned asked again, “Um, Peter Parker?”

“Ned, I think they’re all called Peter Parker,” you said with a half chuckle, “I think he needs you on the computer Peter from this universe,”

“Okay, we need codenames, I’m Peter One,” Your Peter said before pointing at the one in civilian clothes, “You’re Peter Two,” and then he pointed at the one who you had began to grow fond of, the one who was in a lab coat, “And You’re Peter Three,”

They had developed all of the serums and you hoped that they worked, because if they didn’t then you were going to have to press that button on the box and send them all home, even Peter Three. 

Aimlessly, you reached into the drawer of the science lab to find a load of confiscated items but the one that stood out was a Polaroid camera. 

“Peter Three, come here,” you said, spinning the chair round to him, “Smile,”

He chuckled, posing for the photo with a smile and an awkward peace sign. It printed out and you shook it before looking at it, chuckling at how awful it looked. 

“Yeah, maybe not one for the photo books,” you said, placing it on the table with a smile. Peter picked it up, smiling to himself as he put it in the pocket of his suit. 

You looked over the last few pieces as you ignored the now missing Polaroid. When you looked up, you saw Peter One and MJ holding hands, looking into each other’s eyes. 

“Young love,” you said with a chuckle, a slight smile on your face, “It’s such a weird concept isn’t it,” you turned to Peter Three and he shrugged it off. 

Then you remembered about his MJ. About the girl that he didn’t have the opportunity to save, that he was clearly still in love with.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, I forgot about um, her,” you said, feeling slightly embarrassed with what you had said as you looked away from him. 

“It’s okay, that was five years ago. I’m uh, it doesn’t hurt as much anymore,” he explained. But you knew he was lying. It was just something that you could sense, when people were lying. 

You turned to look at him, building up all the confidence you could muster. He was staring at you, eyes glossy and upset. 

Before you could talk to him, Peter announced the plan and you decided to walk away so that Peter Three couldn’t hear your heart pounding in your chest. But he did. 

The three Peters decided to go and fight the villains that had come over whilst you, Ned and MJ stayed in Lolas house to protect the box. Ned, with his newfound powers, opened a portal that would lead them to the tower but he couldn’t close it again. 

The three of you argued over it, MJ berating Ned for not being able to close it. However you felt worried, sick to your stomach. You always did when you knew that your friend was in danger, but this time it felt doubled. You knew that you felt worried about the other Peter, the Peter you kept thinking about. 

All of a sudden, the lizard man rushed in, trying to pounce on the three of you as you all rushed around the room and towards the portal. 

The only exit that would guarantee the safety of both you three and the box was through the portal and so you jumped, watching as Peter Two jumped on him and took him out. 

You didn’t notice and continued to run, splitting up from MJ and Ned. When you turned around and stopped, your foot got caught on a piece of metal and you began to fall. 

The world began to slow as you fell and you screamed Peter’s name. You looked up and saw Peter Parker, your Peter Parker, leap down and try to reach you. 

Your hands nearly reached and the feeling of drowning and suffocation began to stop. That was until the Green Goblin hit him away with his hoverboard, knocking him away from you. 

As you watched him being hit away into the distance, you closed your eyes, ready to let go and die. Maybe this was your fate, to die at the hands of a supervillain for absolutely nothing. 

“No!” You heard Peter yell out and this time it was Peter Three. His voice was full of regret and the pain was obvious as he realised it was all happening again, just like Gwen. 

So you opened your eyes. Your eyes met his and you could see the fear and panic in them. He leapt after you and at a speed you had never seen anyone fall before, he reached out to you. There was a sense of urgency in his eyes as he reached for you, hands brushing with a spark. 

He instantly wrapped his arms around your body, the warm heat of him and the strong smell engulfing your every sense. With a rapid sense of desperation, he shot his web shooters onto the scaffolding so that the two of you could land safely on the ground. 

Peter held you bridal style, his chin resting on the top of your head and his breathing erratic. You couldn’t even look up, just opting to nestle your head into his chest and take deep breaths to slow the pounding of your heart. 

You looked up into his eyes, those deep brown eyes that you hadn’t forgotten since the second you saw him. And oh, they taunted you to desire him and everything that he stood for. And before you knew it, in a mere matter of seconds, you found yourself falling in love with the man holding you in his strong secure arms. 

“Are you okay?” He asked with a rough and shaky tone of voice. You looked up into his eyes and nodded, both of you with tears in your eyes. 

He looked like he was about to cry, about to break down completely. “Are you? Okay I mean?” You asked with the same shaky voice - you were scared after falling from such a height, your life flashing before your eyes. 

“I couldn’t save her,” his voice broke as he said that, a single tear rolling down his cheek. 

“You saved me, and that-” you lifted your hand up, placing it on his cheek in such a delicate way, “-has got to count for something,”

He leaned forward, both of you seeming to gravitate together like two magenta being pulled together like a strong force. When your lips touched, you felt that strong spark. It was sweet and perfect and everything you could have ever wanted. He kissed you like he was going to wait the next day but oh, was it tender and sweet like you were a delicate doll and he couldn’t bear to break you. 

When you both pulled away, you felt your face heat up, a giddy smile on your face, “Well, you should uh, probably go,” you said and he let you down, his hands still on your shoulders like he didn’t want to let go. 

“Yeah,” he whispered before pressing a kiss to your forehead and swinging away. 

You leant back against the scaffolding, heart pounding in your chest. You wanted to kiss him again, to hold him, to comfort him. It didn’t matter that you’d only known each other for less than a day, you’d felt more alive in those few moments than you had in months, years. 

As he swung away, all Peter could think about was you. Your lips, gentle and warm, your embrace, the sweet smell of you. Some would say that it clouded his judgement but he didn’t care. He hadn’t felt like this ever, not even with Gwen. There was this rush, this feeling of a string that connected the two of you, one uncuttable by even the fates themselves. 

After the battle was over and done, your Peter, Peter One, checked up on you and the only thing you had left of the battle was a scar, a small one under your eye that must have been from when you first fell. 

Peter Three rushed over to you after he had checked on Peter Two who had been stabbed in the battle, and you could tell he wanted to kiss you but decided against it, instead pulling you into a long hug. 

“I guess this is it, isn’t it,” you said, tears in your eyes, “I’ll come with you, please,”

The two of you were illuminated by the looming presence of the multiverse cracking above them. It was almost poetic, to see your feelings being split up like a rift in the world. Two people who were never meant to be together. Even Shakespeare couldn’t have seen this tragedy coming.

“You belong here, I can’t take you away like that,” you explained and he pressed his forehead against yours. 

He picked something out of a strange pocket in his suit and reached into your jacket pocket, leaving the object there. 

“For when I’m not here anymore,” he whispered. Peter placed his hand on your cheek, tilting your head up so that you could kiss him one last time.

It wasn’t as desperate, this time the kiss felt almost mournful, like a goodbye he didn’t get to have last time. 

The hand went cold and you felt the warm kiss on your lips disappear. When you opened your eyes, he was gone and you looked around, not understanding why you were here. 

You stood in the cafe with Ned and MJ months later, the three of you laughing about something dumb with the two of them now going to MIT with you. 

You reached into the pocket of your jacket for that piece of gum when you found a Polaroid. You narrowed your eyes at it, looking at the picture of you and some handsome man standing together, wide smiles on both of your faces. 

“Wow Y/N, who the hell is that?” Ned asked and you furrowed your brow, staring at the image. 

“I don’t know,” you simply stated. But your heart filled with something that you didn’t understand, and your mind went blank whenever you tried to remember the face in front of you. 

MJ walked back from helping some weird customer when she saw the picture, “He’s cute,” she said with a chuckle. 

You stood up, “I’ll be right back,” you said, stumbling into the bathroom and staring at the mirror at your own reflection, not recognising the miserable person in front of you. You looked so happy in that photo, so where did that go?

Before you even knew it, you fell through a portal, landing in the streets of New York. But this wasn’t the New York you knew. 

“Y/N?” A voice asked and you looked up to see him, the man from the photo. 

All the memories came flooding back to you and you smiled. Falling, the lab, your kiss, the goodbye, it was real, “Peter,” you whispered, a grin on your face as you jumped into his arms. 

☆☆☆

So I have refound my love for Andrew Garfield and despite the fact that this is not my best post, I still like it. If you want like a part two for this I wouldn’t mind writing it. I also have a few more ideas around No Way Home as its all I can think about so they may be out soon, maybe. But yeah, I hope you enjoyed it :)

LET ME HELP - A.G!P.P

Warnings: angst, blood, injuries, cleaning injuries, commitment, nicknames [baby]

Pairing: Andrew Garfield!Spiderman x fem!reader

Summary: Peter Parker is always getting injured and Y/N, his long time girlfriend, is always being pulled into it. Until one day she’s too scared and has to tell him.

Word Count: 1.7 k

As Peter’s girlfriend, you knew that things could go wrong, that one day you could wake up with a call saying that your Peter had died. But the call you hated the most was the one full of heavy breaths, asking you to come round because he has an injury. 

Having dated Peter Parker since college, you knew everything about him and your long term relationship was as strong as it could be. But you couldn’t help but worry every time he went out on patrol, worried that one day he wouldn’t make it home. 

You drove there as fast as you could, opening the door with your spare key that he had given you. You gasped as you saw him sitting on the couch, shirt off and looking down at a large cut through his abdomen. 

“Oh no,” you whispered to yourself and he looked up, putting on a fake smile as he gritted his teeth. 

“Hey baby,” he said and you shook your head, walking over to him and sitting next to him. You looked at the large gash across his abdomen and shook your head. That looked deep and probably needed to be looked at by a medical professional. 

He chuckled to himself as he looked down at it but you saw past that fake smile and the seemingly relaxed look on his face. You noted the thin layer of sweat forming on his face and the way that he would occasionally wince when he would move. 

“Come here,” you said, placing a hand on his cheek and moving his head so that he was now looking into your eyes, “You need to go to the hospital for this Peter," 

"No, no, how do I explain this?” He asked, letting out a shaky sigh before putting on a funny fake voice, “Hi sir, what happened? Well I was in a fight, I’m Spiderman you see, and this guy with a big knife hit me and I managed to web him up before going home.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the first aid kit that was next to him, “I hate you,” you muttered, pulling out the antiseptic wipes, knowing you were going to have to clean him up now because he was too stubborn. 

“You know you love me,” he chuckled, hissing through gritted teeth as you brushed the wipe across the wound that would clearly leave a scar, “I love you,” he whispered and you looked up at him, face softening. 

You would always be angry that he constantly put himself in harm’s way, but you could never stop him and the plague of worry and fear would always follow you around no matter how much you loved him. 

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” you said before reaching over and grabbing the stitches and the needle. 

Aunt May said that you were a good influence on him, that you kept him grounded and reminded him that he couldn’t just go around fighting carelessly, that you gave him someone to come back home to. His love for you was like Aunt May had never seen before. 

You didn’t believe in soulmates, but this boy with the brown doe eyes and slightly sweaty tousled hair that fell over his face, he was the closest thing that you would ever find to one. 

You grabbed a cloth, pressing it against the wound on his chest, “Hey,” you said, placing a hand on his face and making him look at you, “You okay?

He hissed, placing a hand on top of your hand over his wound, "I will be baby,” he said, a half hearted smile on his face as he chuckled, “It hurts like a bitch,”

Peter sighed as you took the cloth off of the wound. He looked just as amazing as he did every day, even with that thin blanket of sweat on his forehead. You watched as Peter leaned his head back, eyes screwed shut as you began to sew up the wound. 

He hissed slightly as you began to sew it up, “Maybe if you were safer it wouldn’t hurt that much,” you said and he rolled his eyes, “haha," 

Every time you would pull the piece of medical string, he winced slightly, tapping his fingers against the seat of his chair as he tried to make it through the pain. The soft drilling sounds were the only thing that filled the silence as you focused on the task at hand. 

He opened his eyes and looked down at you, your hair tied up in a bun, the focused look in your eyes as you tried to make him better. He loved you more than anything in the world. 

Peter didn’t know how he deserved you. Someone that loved him despite the fact that he was spiderman and despite the fact that he always put himself in harm’s way to help everyone else. 

He reached down, brushing a piece of hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ear as he noticed it was in your way. He also noticed how you blushed slightly when you did that. 

When you tied that last piece up, he winced but let out a shaky breath. You picked up another antiseptic wipe and brushed it over the injury, "Can’t have you dying on me can I?

"Wouldn’t even thing about it baby,” he whispered, looking down at you with a soft smile. 

You placed a gauze in the wound before helping him sit up, wrapping a bandage around his chest just in case the stitches came loose. “You should probably take it easy for a little while,”

When you leaned up to look at you, he placed a hand on your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss, a gentle and grounding kiss that reminded you both that you were here and he was okay. He was going to be okay. 

“You gotta be safer,” you whispered against his lips, resting your forehead against his. He noticed the tightening of your voice as you said that and the wave of worry that rushed from you. He couldn’t tell whether it was from his spider-senses or because he just knew you so well, but he knew something was wrong. 

“What’s up Y/N?” He asked and you looked up at him, tears in your eyes. His heart filled with pain as he saw you like that because he never wanted you to feel upset. 

“I’m scared for you,” you whispered, watching as he brought his hand up and brushed the tears away with the pad of his thumb, “I don’t want you to get hurt, I just, I love you so much and I don’t know what my life would be without you,”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Marry me,” he whispered and you pulled back, looking at him. 

You scoffed, a surprised chuckle leaving your lips as you looked at him, “You’re serious?” Your eyes were wide and shocked, looking at him with an incredulous look. 

“Y/N L/N. You are the only girl for me, and I love you with every single bone in my body. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and give you everything you want, even if that means giving up the suit.” The words were sincere and so full of love that tears began to spill over your eyes as the realisation began to sink in, “Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight hug, “Yes, yes, oh my god Peter, yes,” you muttered into his shoulder before pulling back, smashing your lips against his. 

He had never been so happy in his entire life. Peter Benjamin Parker had never been so sure of what he wanted. And what he wanted was to marry the beautiful girl in front of him and to start a family with her, a big, happy, beautiful family. 

“Stay there,” he said, wincing as he stood up, hobbling over to the drawer before pulling out a box. 

You smiled, placing a hand over your mouth as he sat back down, opening the box and showing you the diamond ring, “It was my moms, I thought you should have it,” he said, taking your hand and placing the ring on your finger, nothing had ever felt that right before. 

“God, I love you Peter,” you said and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips before replying, “I love you too Y/N.”

You never would have believed that Peter Parker would ask you to marry him in his living room, shirtless with a bandage on his chest. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

rae-gar-targaryen:

hang the stars upon tonight [tasm!peter parker x reader]

A/N:Here it is at LONG LAST – my entry for @spidervee April AU event. Please enjoy tattoo artist!Peter Parker. Reblogs are always appreciated! Except it’s June, so we’re claiming SUMMER AU EVENT! 

Reblogs make the world go ‘round. 

Pairing:TASM!Peter Parker x fem!reader (no use of y/n; Peter calls reader “Eden.” Gentle reminder that all my readers are written ambiguously, but I write them as latinx!readers).

Word Count: 23.6k (I KNOW, OKAY?) of little ‘forevers,’ of constellations and conundrums, of ink on bodies and ink on pages, of heartache and holy moments.

Warnings: my writing is its own warning, cw/tw: mentions of getting a first tattoo – so, minor discussions of pain, discomfort and a little mention of blood. Also – a bit of angst, and smut, so 18+ ONLY – touching, biting, my usual odd attempts at dirty talk, fingering, oral (female receiving), p in v sex, peter is kinda rude  at times, i’m sorry but it’s true. 

Summary:Tattoo!AU – Peter is a tattoo artist with a sleeve of stars and his own ideas about love. Until he meets you – the literary-loving prospective client with her heart set on forever, a perpetual garden of greenery and goodwill. Will you find your forever? Or are you doomed to dance and die in the arms of a beautiful boy?  

—

–So many aspects of life are fleeting … 

The beloved, pink sparkly jellies you’d worn through as a child that pinched your toes, but you’d loved anyway. Flowers that withered and died before you’d gotten a chance to fully appreciate their bursting blooms from the vase at the corner of your windowsill. Loves that come and are lost, that feel grandiose and historic in the moment, but are no more than brushes against lips and fading fingerprint bruises along hips. The seasonal changes that marked each year, autumn bleeding auburn unto the white of winter’s chill. 

Perhaps that’s why the permanent things never really scared you. No, you’d preferred the steadfast staunchness of things that stood the test of time. 

You’d accepted that certain aspects of life would come and go, with the next person none the wiser … Like when you returned a library book, and the next person to hold it would be blissfully unaware that you had beheld the same text. Your fingerprints invisible to them, save for a dated stamp on a card tucked inside the front jacket.

Was it right to say you feared fleeting things? Perhaps it was more accurate to say that you craved constants where you could get them. Keep them. 

You held, with great reverence, the concept of ‘forever,’ of love and lasting, and of something that would endure,beyond yourself and your finite time. You never started a job with the intention of leaving it. And you never took lightly any decision that would have a rippling impact. It just wasn’t in your nature. That said, the weight of a choice was not heavy on your shoulders; no, you held it in your hands with gentle certainty, as one might cradle a small, smooth stone. Before skipping it and watching the ripples extend outward with each touch to the water’s smooth surface, destined to touch and extend forever. 

So the prospect of getting a tattoo – something permanent by its nature – filled you with a thrill in the knowledge that your body would behold this piece throughout your lifetime, etched into your being. Something to remind yourself of who you were in this moment, as well as a piece of your soul you could share with others. Your heart literally on your sleeve, if you so chose.

Suffice it to say you were one to do your due diligence when it came to the permanent things. 

Keep reading

This was amazing! Love how you’ve written Peter. He’s not the superhero we know, but he still has the personality and everything else. I just loved it.