doturnaround - Tumblr blog

doturnaround · 5 days ago

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What you would it take for you to skip out on a date with your crush?

1.7k words, explicit language, and fluff. Alternate AU where Clark is a late bloomer.

If he'd known, maybe he'd come sooner. The absolute dickhead. You slightly crush the cup in your hands, glancing over the place like he'd magically appear. Where the hell was he!? You feel your emotions boil over, and decide to find out for yourself.

You trudge through the party, pushing past gyrating youngins till your heels started to sink into the front yard. Blowing your lips into a pout, you start at Kent’s house. Stomping down the gravel and dirt road, ignoring the slowing cars as you walk on the street, gently pushing away someones herding dog as you spot the yellow house peak through the tree line.

Your heels sting, but the house was in full view now, and you took long strides up to the door.

“Clark Kent! I thought your mama raised a gentleman, but leaving me at the McKennin’s? Are you crazy!” You shout as you bang on the door.

You knock not-so-politely a few more times, before continuing around the porch. Thanks to the wrap around porch, it was easy to find the back door, letting your heels clack loudly.

“Hiding now ain't gonna do nothin when I eventually find you!” You hope your voice carried through the house, you were going to find Clark Kent! Today or tomorrow so be it!

Your gaze landed on the windows, and you contemplated shouting through them. But a sudden thud drew your attention behind you. Collapsed on the stairs was none other than your ditch date. You drew in a deep breath as you studied him. His shirt was burned in precise holes, and his jeans were still on fire, it had already burned off a chunk off his pants, and a large hole in his shirt gave you a view of his smooth chest.

“What the fuck.” You say blankly, walking over to stomp out the fire on the pocket of his jeans.

“Ow- Is that you?” He pants as you essentially kick him repeatedly in the ass.

“Who’s you? If you mean the girl you'd decided to ditch, then yeah!” you throw your arms up exasperatedly, now noticing that his eyes were tightly shut.

“Can't even look me in the eyes you.are.so.dumb!” you punctuate each word with another stomp on his butt.

“Wha-no! I can explain- jus not right now I swear.” He shuffles onto his knees, hands groping along the top stair. “Can you please get my ma? I-I, there's something wrong with my eyes. And stop stampin on my ass!” His voice trails off, and empathy pangs in your gut.

“Fine, but this isn't the end of this” You glare at him, leaning your weight onto him one more time before lifting your foot.

You were going to look for his ma, but met her halfway back around to the front.

“Were you the cause of all that unnecessary racket?” She asked you as soon as your gazes were laid.

You roll your eyes “Yea, but-”

“Honey, that aint my boy to go on doin that! Something musta happened, but no matter- there was no need to go a’banging all along my house now!” She says, interrupting you.

“Im sorry but your-”

“Always ‘bout me! What about you? My son mighta had some reason if he even did leave ya.”

“Your little son’s half naked at yer back door!” You couldn't help the volume you reached, tired of her interruptions.

“Why didn't you say so earlier!” She cried, jogging to the back. You hesitated to follow. Still you return to Clark, Martha already wrapped around her son.

Martha was quick to console Clark, hugging him tightly before helping to his feet. His eyes were still welded shut, Martha leading him in through the back door. The door hung open a second as she looked over her shoulder at you, then quickly nodded for you to ‘get inside’.

As you step inside, you feel guilt swarm your gut. Clark did look worse for wear, and it was a reason to leave you if there were any. Clark was sat down at his dinner table, gripping the top of his chair tightly. You bite your lip, waiting for his man to give you orders. So you lean against the sink and watch Clark shiver.

“Are you sick?” you question, noting the fact he would shudder every few seconds.

“I uh, it sure feels like it” He responds, using a hand to wipe at his eyes. He sniffles heavily, and Martha rounds the corner.

She had a towel and a small tin box in her hands, of which she quickly deposited on the table. She wizzes past him to you, staring at you so suddenly you realise she wanted something behind you. You side step as she pulls out a bowl, then actually turns to you.

“Fill this with warm water darlin”.

You follow her instructions, placing a hand under the faucet as it warms up. Watching lazily, you glance at Martha coddling Clark. Everyone knew Martha and Johnothan truly raised Clark like he was something different. He was a real sweet boy, but it was clear he was a bit spoiled. Not like he wasn't on the plow with his father each Saturday, but Martha was always “pickin something up for my boy ya’know.” or “just a little reward for how hard he's been workin lately.”

You hiss, pulling your hand from the faucet. It was well over warm now. You push the bowl over to fill it, turning carefully once it was.

“Got your water ma'am.” You place the bowl in front of her at the table, sitting opposite to her. Clark was sitting at the head, but was angled to the side Martha was at, so all you saw was the sweat stained back of his shirt

Martha nodded at you warmly, throwing the towel in the water, then standing in front of Clark with her hands buried in his sleeves.

“This is ruined, give it here” She said, pulling his shirt off of clarks raised arms.

You stared at his back, watching impressive muscles reveal themselves. Clark seems to notice, shrinking in on himself as his mom goes to get him a new shirt. She isn't gone for long, returning with a sigh.

“Clark, quit actin like you weren't fixing to date this young lady.” You blush at Martha's statement, and by the hand on the back of his neck, you assume Clark feels the same.

She wacks him with the shirt, leaving it in his lap for him to pull on. Instead, she pulls out the towel from the bowl, and turns back to Clark.

“What's goin on baby?” She asks, using the damp towel to start rubbing soot from his body.

“Its- my. My eyes.” Clarks voice drops into a low whisper, seemingly trying to hide it from you. He puts his elbow on this table, and turns a bit farther from you.

Martha's eyes register into deeper concern, glancing at you quickly. There was something here, although the obvious sensitivity of the topic, you could help but feel a bit saddened at their reaction. You weren't supposed to be in the room to hear this conversation.

“But, im. I don't know what is happening?”

“Is that why your eyes are closed?”

“Yeah..”

“Try for me baby, please.?”

Clark nodes apprehensively, shifting in his chair as he lifts his head. His eyelids flutter as he nervously opens his eyes. He blinks a few times, glancing around the room with eyes wide open. Relief is on his face for a moment, before pure beams of red emit from them. He burns two melting holes into the wooden cabinets, a streak of flames following his gaze down the room. Finally finishing as he closed his eyes.

Shock didn't seem to kick in very fast, you and Martha staring at each other for a second before you leaped from your chair.

“Excuse my language but what the fuck!? Ma your house is on fire!”

“Shit!” she runs off, not towards the door, where you were dragging Clark, but deeper into the house.

“Are you crazy!?” you screech from the porch, watching her figure return through the smoke. Then,through a flurry of white, the smoke and fire were gone. Fire extinguisher, nice!

You stayed outside, letting the extinguisher flow into the air. Then you turned your head to Clark apprehensively. He was turned away from you, most likely sensing the complete shock on your face.

“You just shot lasers outta your ¡Goddamn eyes!” You say, eyebrows threading, and a hand on his shoulder.

“What planet are you from Clark? Truely!” you place your other hand on his other shoulder, your voice lifting with the start of a laugh.

You do your best to turn Clark, which he does on his own account, and shake his shoulders. You laugh lightly, bewildered and curious. Your date ditched you to gain lazer eye powers. What the fuckkkkkkk. You pull yourself against him to hug him, Clarks hand up to cover his eyes, so you're hugging him and his arms.

You feel him drop them as Martha comes out of the house, coughing.

“I did not expect that to happen at all!” Martha says, using her hand to swat away any leftover extinguisher cloud.

“We are going to have quite a conversation once your father gets back.” She says, looking at Clark, but cutting to your own eyes with a sly grin.

“Sweety, i'll call you tomorrow, we can. Talk about this.” Martha's voice drops into a register southern ladies only use for business, and your grip loosens around Clark.

“Yeah,” You say, adjusting to Clark putting his own arms below yours in a proper hug. His cheek grazes your neck for a second, leaving a burning trail as he starts to walk off with his mom.

“It would be best if you didn't-” Martha started, and you finished her statement, knowing what she, or anyone would want in this type of situation.

“Tell anyone, yeah, I got it. I just? Can I get a ride home please?” Your tone becomes softer at the removal of the clark. And whiplash from today's events. And a lot of other things.

Martha nod profusely, “Let me get him up stairs-” she grab Clark by his Bicep “Safely”

You nod, following them back into the house.

“See you.” Clark waves behind himself awkwardly, being escorted up the stairs.

You hum a yes, sitting back down at the table, watching the still smoldering cabinets, and wait for Martha to return and give you ride.

#clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent x y/n #fluff #superman x reader #superman x y/n #smallville

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doturnaround · 9 days ago

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Commit the crime, gotta do the time. Right? Thankfully you were let off with only a few weeks of 'community' service. Sentenced by the one and only Spider-Man. Guess he really IS a menace.

chapt 4 - the fourth estate - 6k words - explicit language. crossposted onto ao3 under the same name.

You stare blatantly at Jeanine, her mouth open as she stares at the door Spider-Man just ran out of. Your eyebrows furrow and you continue to hold the door open ajar. You turn to look down the hallway a split second, but return to Jeanine.

"I'm sorry, I can come back later." You say, running your thumb over the grooves in the doorknob.

"Uhm, I don't have anyone coming in... tomorrow! You can be back tomorrow." Jeanine says softly, a crease forming on her cheek from her small frown.

You nod and shuffle out of the glass office...what a way to help.

Returning to your bed, where you were in the first place, you close the blue curtain around your bed. You lay down on your side, watching the light shift on the curtain. Light blue spots turning navy at the shifting of trees outside. Each shadow and light elongates with the curtain, blowing with the breeze carried by wind. You liked how open F.E.A.S.T. was, open windows, open space, everything just felt so open with its glass and concrete walls. Like a faint memory of a hospital from when you were young.

You shift in bed, Jeanine said tomorrow, and you could tell she was busy by the way she so... helplessly told you to come back later. She probably did much more than you could tell from the interaction by the degrees on her walls. Still you wished to be in an apartment of your own. You'd never been out of a home, and you weren't really right now, but you really didn't like the idea of being homeless.

You sit up and grope around under your bed. When you first came here, they told you the rules quickly and gave you 'essentials', but once you were standing aimlessly in front of your bed, May came up to you. Her voice was as sweet as ever as she handed you a book, it was the Princess Diaries. When you'd looked back up at her with utter confusion, she patted your hand and smiled.

"It's a feel-good type of book. I know it won't permanently fix your mood or anything-" She swayed the book in your hands with her own "But oh, it's always nice to have a little escape, no?"

She spoke like she'd seen you in past lifetimes, like she knew you too well. The book was somewhere under your bed, you just.had.to-find... it.

You hook your fingers on the front cover of the book and pull it out. It lost its protective plastic cover a while ago, the library tag ripped off and blue pen scribbled on the corner. You'd finished the night you'd gotten it, couldn't sleep, couldn't do much of anything else. You ran a finger through the pages and listened to the choppy flutter.You flopped back onto the bed quickly with the book still at your waist. It stilled in the general middle of the book, and you placed it over your face. In the dark confines of the book, you sighed. You needed to go outside. Probably talk to someone to see if anything of yours survived.

You turn and let the book slip off your face, and then slide off the bed, letting your feet peek under the curtain. You sat there a bit more, finally deciding to push open the curtains and slip out. You stick your hand back in to grab the book and head up the stairs.

To May Parker's office. She’d need her book back.

She also had a glass office, the same layout of Jeanine’s, but clearly more decorated and personal. Lots of pictures around the room, books that had nothing to do with the charity she was basically running.

You’d run in with the real owner, Martin Li, he was leaving his office, not saying a word to anyone. And by judging others' reactions, it was all he did.

But when May left her office, anyone could see that she was the favorite staff member. And that she tried her hardest. Her office is just as crowded with papers as Jeanine’s.

When you got there, May wasn’t there. But there was someone else in the room. A man, who you’ve seen around-a ‘temporary resident’. He turned with a raise of his brows.

“Are you here for May too?” He smiled, his voice gravely and aged.

“Yeah” you nod quickly, you’d just put the book on her desk then.

You start at her desk, book in hand, when the man speaks again.

“Got the princess treatment, ay?” He laughs, holding his hand out for the book, to which you hand it to him.

“ A common thing, or am I really special?” You say, now leaning against her desk, facing the man sitting in one of the chairs.

You introduce yourself, watching the man flip the book over in his hand.

“I’m Grant, and yeah- most everyone here has been assigned a book, fiction, history…” Grant sighs.

“Did you get one?” You say, deciding to sit in the chair next to him.

“Ha, yeah. The one im holdin. I was so confused- but it sorta works” he hands the book back and you put it on your lap.

You stay silent for a minute, questioning if you should leave the book and go already, or wait for May.

You wondered how long he had been there, some people were happy to laugh about it, but not everyone. So you kept your mouth shut and decided to wait out the now awkward silence for May to show up.

And she did, her eyebrows shot up before she opened the door, smiling from the window. As she entered, you stood. You guess you were planning to talk to her, but with Grant and the fact you just needed to return the book, you chose not to.

May didn’t have anything in her hands so you placed the book in one, saying

“ came to give this back, I uh have a thing with putting borrowed stuff into the owners hands.” You step to exit through the still open door, when May grabbed your arm.

“If you need anything” May said, staring into your eyes with intent. Then letting you leave.

You turn for a second, watching Grant immediately launch into conversation with her, coming off as two old friends reuniting.

You sigh slightly as you descend the stairs, deciding to call your parents again. Get them to tell you about their life. Tell them not to come up, that you’d be fine, not to send anything till you had a stable address. The works.

You'd stayed in F.E.A.S.T. for another 2 weeks, finally adapting to the groove of everything, right as Jeanine called you up with an offer. You had spread out all your papers from the school, your parents, Carlisle surprisingly, and some from the city. All with small or large amounts of money being sent to you.

Math wasn't the problem here, but the process of attaining the money the notes promised. So, you had sat with your feet under you while googling how long each would take. It was midday, and when your bunkmate discovered your paper halo, she was more than happy to help you.

Chrissie had studied in law before changing majors, and was happy to-

“ de-rust the legal jargon section of my brain.”

And it was in the middle of her meticulously explaining some legal process to you, that Jeanine appeared behind you. Emphasis on appeared. Suddenly interrupting your financing.

You followed her all the way up to her office and struggled to actively listen. Maybe it was the fact you'd already spent hours looking up legal processes for your money, or Jeanine's monotone voice. Still you were able to take away these points.

You had gotten an apartment offer! Yippie!

You had to go through your school's website and update your address on every form. No yippie.

You had a roommate.That was perfectly fine! His name was Peter. A man, but oh well.

You needed to speak to the police. No yips.

And the stack of papers she’d given to you to sign, read over, and fill out respectively. Which you did, gruelingly. But it got you where you were now, on a bus to fully check into your new apartment. You'd seen listing photos, plus a video walkthrough, and liked it enough to agree to the contract. It was a brown stone, and you were giddy to see it with your own eyes. The bus came to halt and you skipped off, ready to move in.

You looked up from your phone, this was it. The building was as tall as the surrounding ones and the same color of brick. Holy Hell you'd lucked out. Jeanine had assured you of it. Peter, had connections with F.E.A.S. T. and was looking for a roommate- Jeanine thought you were the perfect fit. You'd signed the papers and gotten an uber to the address. Stepping inside, you realized that maybe you weren’t so lucky-Although It might be greedy to have an entire brownstone.

315 84th was split into 4 apartments, yours- the penthouse, 2 on the ground floor, and 1 in the basement. You'd walked all the way up the stairs to your door when you remembered to pick up the key, Peter wasn't going to be in there, he'd told you so. So all the way back down to the landlord you went.

You tripped over yourself while approaching the landlord's basement apartment. You knocked on the door, a shiny one beneath its peephole. The door opened to an old woman with the grouchy smile and grimy aura of a landlord. She eyed you up and down as you spoke.

“I'm here for apartment 4’s key- Peter’s my roommate. Uhm he should've been her earlier?” You peek through the sliver of the open door.

“Peter” She glares at you. “Didn't mention a roommate.” she muttered. Your eyebrows thread, that's weird…

Still you sigh and pull out the papers you'd signed. Part of the tower Jeanine had given you. You stick the manila folder through the gap.

“Well, I signed a lease for 315 W 84th St, apartment 4. Legally. So I'm here for my key.”

New York taught you that if someone doesn't have the willpower to at least be boring in a conversation, then you return their attitude. The woman mutters to herself as she reads over the papers. Sure, she hasn't signed up with F.E.A.S.T., but Peter did.

It was another minute before the woman shuffled from the door, coming back with your key. She dropped the key in your hands, and you turned on your heels quickly, ready to get to your new apartment and away from the lady. To the Penthouse of 120 Prospect Park. Whoever Peter was, he must've been loaded.

Once inside you first noticed the kitchen, grand, dark, and lustfully gorgeous. Again, you'd seen it through a few photos, but it was a far cry from the real thing. Wood and tiling along the walls, shiny appliances. You felt an eager whimper escape you. This was nice. You dropped your full suitcase and bag at the door.

You'd always had a thing for old houses, and this apartment was striking every chord in your body. You started to jog through the house. Stairs. This apartment had levels! Who was Peter? Who and how and why are you here? You ran up the spiral stairs, arriving at another luscious room. A study by the sight of it. You hopped up the last step, continuing your marathon tour.

You couldn't stop the laughs of joy as you slid through the place. One door was closed, and you only peaked, finding it was Peter's room. His room was through another bedroom though, so to enter his room he'd go through another bedroom. Maybe he was planning on changing the rooms purpose? Or keeping good friends there? You wondered what was going to happen with this room when you'd seen it in the walkthrough.

The thought was only in your mind a second, as you opened all doors of the six closets in the hallway leading to the rooms. Why were there six closets back to back? You didn't really care. There were two full bathrooms upstairs, downstairs was just a toilet. One of the full bathrooms had a pretty stained glass window. Dishwasher, clothes washer dryer. There were two fireplaces down stairs- oh you were really like being here.

You flopped down on a couch downstairs, after running down the stairs for the 3rd time, you'd chosen rest. You let your head flip to the side to stare at the fireplace, smiling smugly. You slowly got up to take your stuff to your room. Which yes, had an open air deck. Someone pinch you!! You assumed Peter would take that room, setting up this whole ordeal.

You dragged everything up, headed back downstairs when you noticed a note tapped on the stairs railing. Guess you were too excited to see earlier, even through your 6 trips up and down the stairs.

“Hi! Roommate here who isn't actually here, Peter!” It was scrawled in black sharpie, in the messy font of comics. “ Hope you like it here, and which I must admit, isn't all me. A friend of mine pulled some string for the place. I'll explain more when I actually get back.”

There was a tiny doodle of a stick man waving on the note too, you staring at it as you peeled the note off-which was actually a receipt. You flipped it over to look at whatever he'd bought from the local bodega. You smile as you tuck the note into your pocket, heading to the kitchen.

Him saying a friend had pulled some strings sorta explained why it was fully furnished, and why it was so super fucking nice. But Peter, whoever he was, barely moved in yet .There was nothing in the fridge (save for a few sauces), and when you had noisily glanced in his room, it was as empty as yours.

You went back down and turned on the tv, digging out some snacks from your bag. You turned it off at some point and were now dreamily wandering around the living room, wondering how you got here, when a knock came from one of the large windows. It was already night, so you did yelp when you were met by a silhouette. The man outside your window waving his hands to show he wasn't a threat, it was just him, Spider-Man!

You scoff, walking over to the window, only opening it a bit.

“I haven't hired an exterminator yet, so no bugs in my kick ass brownstone apartment!” You let your volume increase through your words.

You shut the window again to jog back into the center of the room, spinning with a yelp.

“Look at where I live now!” You say, watching Spider-Man's lenses fall into deadpan.

You don't know how exactly he did, but he raised open the window and stepped inside. As his footsteps thudded, you approached him with a cocky smile. You laugh stupidly before grabbing his shoulders and launching yourself up with your own arms. You land back down with a bounce and then shake his shoulders as best as you could.

This rouses a dry laugh from him.

“Yeah , yeah. We get it!” he grabs your own shoulders to still you. “ I get it.” He finishes, looking around the room himself.

“I know I've already interrogated you, but how are you holding up?” Spider-Man asks, releasing your shoulders.

“Maybe its just the day,” you sigh dreamily “but really really fuckin good.” You finished, you chased your checks, and had time off from school.

You point your foot and link your arms behind you, continuing to laugh like a schoolgirl. You flop backwards onto the couch, grabbing a pillow to scream in. The scream fades into laughter, and you feel the weight of someone leaning on the couch.

The pillow is pulled gently from your face, meeting the stippling of Spider-Man's lenses. His mask is contorted into what you think is a grin, and you return the smile.

“God, May said you were excited, but I've never seen you like this.” He says from above you, placing the pillow near your head, moving back to stand up.

His words spur you, deep into your gut until you open your mouth. “Yeah, I don't know. Just after I got the papers for this place, it's like. Colors are brighter, and I notice every small thing. I've been grateful-” you correct yourself, “I am grateful.”

You turn your head as the man in your living room sinks down, leaning on the front of the couch. From where you squished your face into the bottom cushions, you have a clear view of his scalp, his knees facing away.

“But it's times ten ‘n all that. Y’Know?” you turn back, staring at the non popcorn ceiling.

“Yeah…” He responds, his voice distant in a memory.

You stick your hand out to grab his masked skull. You run your fingers over the ridges for a second, then splay your hand out on his head. You sigh audibly, slightly pushing his head away from you. As you nudge his head, his hand comes up to close around your wrist.

You turn your head, and then your body to put your nose against his head.

“Thanks for everything.” You say, ignoring sudden dread in your stomach, and the memory of how you'd even gotten here. And how… suddenly you were doing this.

It's not like this was something you wouldn't do, you didn't hate him as much as you let on. But, something was a motivation that you could quite place yet. So, as you're still squished against his head, your eyebrows thread.

“Mhm.” His voice cracks, and you don't respond. Second hand embarrassment flushing your cheeks. You were thinking you were already pushing the boundaries of your partnership? You internally store the noise as a sound of anxiety, something to keep you up later, adding ‘freaking out a superhero by non-consensual contact’ to your embarrassing memories.

His hand leaves your wrist, seemingly giving up with minimizing -if that was his goal- contact. You sit there another moment, before sitting up, exhaustion replacing the embarrassment. As you reposition yourself on the couch, Spider-Man stands up again. You might have definitely freaked him out. Although, you hope he'd be able to stand up to you and set his boundaries.

“Well, I just- i came to double check on ya. “ He brings a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, kicking at imaginary dust on the carpet. “If you need anything.” He finishes, his tone eerily similar to May's days earlier.

You mumble in reciprocation, watching him slip out of the window, and back out into the night. Embarrassment and anxiety creep up your neck as you tred to your bedroom. You watched the trees outside your window sway, back and forth, back and forth for what seemed like hours. Falling asleep much later than your arrival to bed.

—

The next morning, Peter's door was firmly shut, and a new coat was slung across the couch you'd fondled Spider-Man's head at. Urgh. You sit on the couch and stare at the walls and furniture, content with your morning so far. Your stomach then leads you to the empty fridge, and therefore to the grocery store.

You pulled on your newly donated clothes and headed to the closest full grocery, to grab the basics. Walking through the subway feeling…brand spankin new, I'll tell you what.

F.E.A.S.T. had given you a few food stamps while you stayed there, but you hadn't used all of them, so today was your day to splurge a bit. You didn't know what your roommate could or couldn't eat, but you knew what you liked. So, you stockpiled on some of your favorite foods, what you could with your stamp perimeters, and got a pint or two of comfort ice cream.

You stepped out of the store, squinting from the sunlight reflecting pavement. The sun hung heavy in the middle of the sky, and when you pulled your phone out, it was just about lunch. Just enough time for you to get home and cook your first meal at the apartment. You weren't super fond of cooking, but you were giddy to be attached to 120 prospect park.

Halfway from your subway stop to home, A red blur swung past you, then slamming into the light post next to you. With nonexistent poise, Spiderman stood sideways on the pole.

Wa-ta” He said, flimsily pulling up half of his mask. Talking with clear discomfort, and un use of his tongue.

You squinted at him, holding up his mask and his mouth wide open. He shook his other hand with urgency as you stared. And as the other people on the street were starting to do too. Spider-Man was the only thing people would stop for nowadays.

You grabbed your water bottle and uncrewed the top, wondering if he wanted it thrown in his face or to waterfall it himself. But you were too slow for him, your arm half extended before he grabbed the bottle himself and splashed half of it on his face.

You watched in even more bewilderment as he spat it right back out. Then he took another swig, now visibly swishing it around his mouth. And spitting it out again.

“What the fuck?” you asked gently, now amongst the crowd around him.

“Hey,” He pauses to rinse his mouth once again. “Would you like having strange liquids-” he pours more water in his mouth just to loudly gargle it . “-from a pipe, being thrown in your face by a villain while conveniently stationed near a bookstore! Do you know what they do in bookstores!?”

He was dripping, sticking to a light post, and yelling about… things. “And now my mask smells of said strange liquids!From a pipe !!” He grumbles as he glances around at the crowd with a frown. You grimace, god was he from New York.

“Well thanks for the water, bye!” he suddenly shoots back off into the air.

You stand, staring with furrowed brows. You were fine with giving someone water, but who the hell does that!? He took your water bottle. Borrowing water, just to spit it out AND take the bottle? Your venture was becoming sour.

Then, in a moment of self awareness, you relax your face, and sigh deeply. He did have a sort of reason, and besides, you could ask him for the bottle back the next time you see him. You probably could find one at Affamata. Either way, why would you ruin your mood over a man?

You pushed through the small crowd to your building, finally rushing through your door, melted ice cream puddling in your bag. Which thankfully was only a bit, but encouraged you to put your groceries away quickly.

Then, after you'd made a small mess with lunch, and sat around your apartment more, you pulled out your phone to glance over emails or what not. Which was mainly spam and college updates, which now that you think about it, it had been a bit since you'd even attended a class. Whoops.

As you stared at your phone, head tilted in grating though, the door started to creak as it was unlocked. You turn your head slowly, mimicking a final girl, while also fully aware it was just peter. But it was your first time to meet him, which could have the chance of him trying to kill you.

You're about to meet your roomate, why are you thinking about him being a murderer!??

Your eyebrows draw together, just as Peter stumbles through. He'd been pushing the old door open, so when it did finally open, he missed his footing a bit. Either way, ending with him on the floor, grabbing his shin and groaning.

You stand up quickly, rushing over to him.

“Peter? Ar- are you okay?” You say, watching him wriggle on the floor.

“Hmmmm.yep.ow. Uh uh, owwwww. Owie ow ow.” He stills a bit, slowly lowering his foot back to the ground.

You walk around his head to grab an ice pack of sorts, guessing he hit his shin on the heavy plant vase next to the door. You pull a towel from the oven handle, a knack you'd picked up from your mom (towel and placement) and wrap the bag of ice cubes you'd whipped up.You then hand it to Peter. If that was him.

“You're Peter, right?” You say, looking down to him.

“Heh, yeah! Sorry, the sticky note. I was and am very… busy” He slowly lifts his torso, raising his shin again towards his chest. He finally rests slightly against his erect thigh, squishing the chunky ice pack against his shin. He then switches the hand he was holding the pack with, to hold out his hand for a handshake.

You shake it with a cocked brow.

“Quite the introduction, I must say.” You say, letting go of his hand. Which wasn’t sweaty!

“Ha, I get that… a lot.” Peter grimaces, getting up, and throws the bag of ice into the freezer.

“Aren’t you-“ you start, seeing him rest weight on his probably bruised leg.

“Oh, no it’s fine. Just hurt a bit.” He stands about the same height as you. He’s taller, but by a few inches.

“Well,” he indicated at the door “I’m bringing in more boxes, so I’ll finish that, and maybe we can order some food?” Peter continues, already pulling in two seemingly light boxes.

He pushes them further in with his foot as he waits for your response.

“Uhm, yeah sure. There’s a Thai place I’ve been to before around the corner, vegetarian.” You say, moving to push one box towards the stairs.

“Sure.” He says, already carrying a box up the steps.

“Sure.” You mimic, wondering if you should carry the box upstairs,since you didn’t really want too.

But, you decide to carry the other box to the top of the stairs, leaving it there before going into you own room. Peter was almost average looking, but even as you started at him writhing on th3 floor, he had a hidden beauty in his features.

You linger on this ideas for just a moment, being interrupted in your own mind by a crash from his room. If his beauty was hidden, then his clumsiness wasn’t. You turn on your bed for a moment, staring at your closed door. You turn back with a shrug, you’d help him…. Most of the time.

After a few hours of scrolling on your phone, Peter knocked on your door and invited you down for dinner. You shared your phone as you ordered online, returning to your own phones as the food was actually delivered. You wondered if he wanted to talk during dinner, but he’d stayed on his phone while unpacking his pad see ew, so you did too. Nothin wrong with a little YouTube and dinner on your first night moving in. If that was his first day.

After dinner, you pulled out one of your non-special ice creams, and split it up for both of you. Peter accepted with a small smile, taking it up to his room. You didn’t respect this decision as much as his last one, grimacing at his back.

You sat in your room, wondering if spiderman would appear as he did last night. He didn’t. But you did make a good dent in you school work. After, you brushed your teeth and went to sleep sorta sad. You knew why, but you didn’t feel like acccepting it.

In the middle of the night, you awoke with such a dryness in your throat, you thought you had strep. Leadinging to your stumbling down the stairs, and into the kitchen. You crossed the tiled floor in complete darkness, finally feeling the oven light switch. Warm lighting flooded the oven stove, but left the rest of the kitchen still dark.

You pulled out a cup, and your refrigerated filter water from the fridge.Once you’d taken a greedy sip (which may or may not have been straight from the jug), you fully filled your cup. Just as you turn the light back off to head to your room, you notice a dark figure ahead. The fact of no close windows, and the wild silhouette of hair, you realized it was only Peter.

Your eyes strain through the darkness at him.

“Why are you awake?” you rasp, as he was clearly awake and conscious.

His faceless form shifts in the darkness, your eyes slightly adapting, a dark navy spreading and amplifying your view.

“Work. Freelancing…Stuff” He responded, still lingering on the other side of the kitchen. You don't believe him, and though you don't need to know, you want to.

So you let yourself stand there, a means to intimidate him into the truth. You glare through the darkness and cross your arms, hoping Peter got the message.

“Porn bots?” He says, breaking the silence uncomfortably.

“Ew.” You hiss, grabbing your glass and grope for the wall.

“Got you off my back.” You hear the smile in his voice as you stumble back up the stairs. You grumble ‘perv’ under your breath while pushing open your door. Back in your bed, you catch sight of the clock, it was 3:12. Yeesh. Out of the kindness of your heart, or whatever force drawed you too, you grabbed your phone to send Peter a quick message.

‘Go to sleep. I could sense the bags under your eyes… intern.’

You don't wait for a response, flipping it over and tucking yourself under the blankets. You hear the buzz of his response, but chose to leave it for the morning, sleep was yours. It would be nice for a little surprise first thing in the morning, while also knowing the surprise won’t have cataclysmic damage.

When you wake, you go through your normal morning routine before remembering the text.

“ and I can sense the grades destroying your resume… undergrad.”

It was the slightest bit anticlimactic, but it was better than any reference to porn bots. You huff a laugh through your nose, weirdo. You get fully changed, you need to go to the campus library, get some stuff sorted out, maybe a book or two that wasn’t assigned.

You assume Peter was asleep, his door shut, when you left. It takes you a minute to actually get to the library, Metro having “non-fucntioning” stops for whatever reason. Most likely Spider-Man related.

But at the library, you continue your streak of productivity, and get 70% or what you need to sort out done. You get lunch at the next door cafeteria, in between the two buildings for what you assume is 5 hours. And you take the equally complicated train ride back home tired. Tired but happy. Like a good work out y’know?

When you walk back into the apartment, you find people who don't live there. A man with curly brown hair, and a woman with a platinum blond ponytail, lounge around the living room. You frown a bit as they notice you, both turning with a warm smile.

“Ah, you must be the aforementioned ‘roomate’.” The man wiggles his eyebrows at you, standing up. “Im Harry,” he sticks out his hand for you to shake, “and that is Gwen Stacy.” He nods to the woman as you shake his hand.

You glance at them both cautiously, putting down your bag and toeing off your shoes.

“Waiting for Peter for something?” you ask. “Is that how you got the key?” You finish.

“Oh my god, of course! The key I mean. My dads the chief of police!” Gwen jokes lightly, shifting in her seat to fully look at you.

From their demeanor, you could tell they were raised elbows of the table. And you can’t help the crawl of awkwardness up your back, you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of them.

“But also yes, we are waiting for Peter, we have a important lab to conduct together.” Harry says, trying to initiate eye contact. Of which you were, politely, having none of.

Your jacket was halfway into the closet you never use, when the door opens again, Peter himself in the door way. It had only been your second day with him, but your interactions seemed everything but normal.

“Oh uh hey,” Peter greeted you first with a shake of his hand. You waved back as he hugged Harry and Gwen.

“This is-“ Peter starts to re-introduce everyone in the room but Harry corrects him and you nod in agreement.

“Oh well, they ar3 my friends, so I guess they’ll be hanging out here a bit, if that’s okay with you” Peter says.

“Yeah no, of course. Don’t talk shit about me…” you trail off, heat rushing your face at Gwen’s clearly forced laughter.

You hear them mumble about whatever lab Harry had mentioned, and sneak back up to your room. You silently hope for the embarrassing stage of living with a stranger to pass

previous chapter

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #slowburn #spiderman x you #peter parker x y/n #spiderman

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doturnaround · 9 days ago

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it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

IT MAY TAKE ME A MONTH TO PUT OUT A CHAPTER BUT AT LEAST IM NOT USING AI TO WRITE IT

43K notes · View notes

doturnaround · 12 days ago

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Commit the crime, gotta do the time. Right? Thankfully you were let off with only a few weeks of 'community' service. Sentenced by the one and only Spider-Man. Guess he really IS a menace.

chapt 3 - the third runs away with - 6k words - explicit language a. crossposted onto ao3 under the same name.

He had never felt so bad for helping someone before. She was obviously devastated, as anyone should be, but the way May looked at him like it was his fault? The things hed promised to do? Peter just loved over filling his plate. Though He didn't doubt that Hammerhead had something to do with that explosion, but he'd figure that out later.

Currently, he was working on containing a Ms.Thera Johnson, escaped convict and hammerhead lackey. He looked down from his position on the building, slightly shifting in his squatting form as he watched a cop car swivel onto the street, far down the street. Tightening his hold on the web, he stands up sideways on the building, then jumping off into a swing as soon as he spotted a parted crowd. Following the small shrieks and obvious breakup of civilians, he swung towards what he could only assume was the escapee.

He caught up with her quickly, the pace she set a bit slow for an escaping convict.

“You're giving them quite the run for their money!" He said, now running in step with her. Referencing the cop cars still far behind him. She glances at him quickly, then increases her pace.

“I'm innocent!” She pants out, still running down the street, pushing people out of her way.

In her haste, a poor older woman – who was very cutely enjoying tea with her dog – was knocked over by Thera. He felt his eyebrows pinch, why did villains never keep actually innocent people out of their shenanigans. He let go of the web he was running with, helping the woman up and resituating the dog on its chair.

After denying the money the older woman, Sherri, was putting in his hands, and petting the dog of course, he returned to his chase. He didn't stop to act cocky in giving her distance, but more so he'd rather help someone up than chase someone down who got arrested for being a wuss.

“Innocent? I know you know something! Innocent people don't run like you do!” He was already right behind Thera, using the opportunity to tie her wrists together with webbing. She must've sawed her way out of her cuffs earlier.

Angered at the webs around her wrist, she decided to ditch flight and shift to fight. Her face was in a snarl as she attempted to kick his knee in. Good spot for self defense, but her foot to eye coordination failed her. And Spider-Man's speed.

Doing a move he recently became fond of, Spider-Man jumped up to stick Thera to the roof of… whatever building they were in front of, by the webbing on her wrists.

“Hey, this is your last chance to get in any sort of sob story so I might rep for you. I'm a real sucker for people who were manipulated by HammerHead.” He says, talking to her wriggling form.

“Fuck. You. You don't know shit I've been through and like hell I'd tell you!Th- They already blew up my fucking aparment!” Thera screeches,her voice cracking as she flung her foot at him again. He caught her foot and frowned.

“ You have to try your best to not let them intimidate you, witness protection-” Before he could finish talking about possible outcomes for her, she writhed again.

“Leave me alone!” Frustration seeping through her voice. He did as she said, deciding to walk away. He hoped she'd gotten the point and knew if she needed help, he was there. It was a small chance, but by the way Thera was so … afraid? He needed to investigate this more as soon as he could.

He continued his patrol, stopped bad guys, got his only form of payment…food. And settled down to take a break, sitting with his legs dangling off the edge. He was really glad his fear of heights wore off when he was 12.

It was probably stupid and dangerous, but he had a pocket notebook with everything he knew about the bullets. Phone became a victim of Parker's luck. So, he kept a notebook of anything he could remember about the effects and causes of the bullets. And since that night, he couldn't fully shake that feeling they had on him. It felt like he was coated into sizzly nyquil. That was genuinely his best description of it. At the moment anyways.

—

As soon as he locked onto the sight of an entire table reaching suspiciously under the table, he flung himself over the roof. Feeling the air rush against him, people below quickly spotted him and the target of his red suit. Hoping that the person he brought into this situation, knew how to handle herself. Sorry uncle Ben.

Launching with a huff, Spider-Man starts his takedown. He could see now, in the middle of the gun fire, that he'd launched into the fight a bit quickly. The men and women were eager to land a shot on him, and had unusual confidence with their guns.

Not anymore confident than you have to be to continue to shoot at a man you know will barely dent. Or at least be back at it within 2-4 business days. Usually. Still, the bullets seemed to be in excess tonight. Most everyone in his sight was holding a gun, or hiding behind someone with one. And everyone with a gun was shooting vehemently at him.

From the scattered circle of mafiosos, he was outside it with people shooting at him with no mind to the people in front of them. He landed one of those fancy picnic umbrellas, and was now jumping off it to the nearby wall. This movement created enough speed and distance for Spider-Man, while gunmen were still aimed at the umbrella to the wall, to aptly web up 5ish guns from a line of people.

He quickly stuck them to the wall, now landing off the wall and on the ground. Feeling the hum through his calf that was his landing, he launched back into action. For at least a moment he'd seemed to intimidate them, as the shooting became tremendously worse as he landed.

Spider-man had a little tug of war tussle with a stocky man, the man heaveing his entire weight back with the gun,and fell when the gun was pulled from his hands. Avoiding laughing at people falling, Spider-Man wrapped the man in webbing and threw him at a group of shooters.

“Did you guys cut costs on aim training?” He says, strolling over to a woman with a gun in her hands.” Cause, hey-” The woman angrily lifts the gun and shoots sloppily. “I think you missed me!” He continues, quickly flipping over the stray bullet.

He continued to quickly take down shooters all around, now at 16 ish people.They angered and got the slightest bit better, but again started to fall in quality as he took more goons out. All until He was left with a singular shooter cowering in the corner. Who then quickly dashed into the building.

He sighed before following them, he didn't want to leave his indentured servant up there for too long. He tracked as best he could, past endless halls and rooms. Until he entered a makeshift lab, covered in papers and materials still out. Someone didn't follow lab procedures! The person dashed into a small door in the lab, and he was going to follow, but he spotted a baggy with a strand of hair in it.

The bag said ‘4/3 fight, sample 1:2’. He only recognized that date because that was a bad fight he had with the green goblin. He remembers very vividly the horrendous state he left in, apparently so bad, that someone got their hands on a strand of his hair.

He snooped around the lab a bit more, finding clear evidence linking Hammerhead to the whole operation. And a scribbled note of ‘I want these bullets out to the families TONIGHT’. He pocketed any ‘samples’ -one of which being from an actual spider- and some incriminating HammerHead things. Whatever they were making was genetically linked to him.

While he was doing this, he kept finding more and more interesting things, cursing the science nerd inside of him. More chemical formulas and prototypes of bullets, what he assumed HammerHead was talking about on his note earlier. It was scary looking at things designed to hurt him.

Thanks to his acute hearing and sense of smell, from walking aimlessly where he thought the person went, he again tracked them to a dusty old printer room. Where they were hiding.

“Come out come out wherever you are, person making a bioweapon for meee” He sings songs, not really expecting for them to actually come out. The person- a young woman, appeared suddenly and started to lift her 2 barreled gun, before deciding against it and running- towards him?

If he'd know she was just hoping for closer range, he would have moved. But he didn't. The proximity now not allowing him to doge the two automatic slug shots from hitting him.

Peter's been shot before. But not by this gun, when they were usually a sharp prick from a pistol. Not enough to kick in his adrenaline, much to his dismay. But he could feel the layers of his skin flay. He knew that's not what a bullet was supposed to feel like.

This bullet was enough to kick start his adrenaline, only delayed. He felt and realized he'd been shot, but continued to fight the woman like he hadn't. She shot into the air a few more times, but once he'd finally got the gun out of her hands, she ran off. Leaving him with the floaty feeling of being unaware and adrenaline pumped. Thankfully not floaty enough to forget to take some bullets from the gun.

The adrenaline lasted halfway back up the building he jumped off of. It felt like he'd been shot again, but fully and like a normal human being. Glancing down at the dark blood covering his abdomen, he sighed sharply. He'd been roughed up horribly before, those were over periods of him being worn down by bullshit he could have avoided. This was a jarring wound that could kill him, if he listened to the voices in his head. Like if someone normal was shot in the thigh, they could easily die of blood loss, Spider-Man wouldn't.

But he felt like he could right now. Like he was dying. The pain was searing and felt weird and bubbly, cutting from his abdomen to his thighs. He heaved himself further up the building, resting for a moment in the searing pain of his abdomen. Climbing made it worse… who woulda known.

He thought about doing something, he didn't carry tylenol, didn't work….. um?

He couldn't do anything. Yay.

Biting through the pain he flopped over the ledge to the roof. Once he stood leaning on the railing, the memory of telling you not to come out with him telling you so, popped back into his head. Thinking of his head, it felt sloshy and if he turned too fast one way it’ll all spill out.

“You can uh, come out now.” He said, trying to ignore the pain through his body by kicking at the gravel roof.

You appeared from behind the tin roof building thingie completely shocked. Her jaw opened wide as she stood in front of Peter. She was staring intently at the bullet wounds on his stomach, a bit too hard he'd say, judging by how her eyebrows pinch and she looks away for a second. And the hand on her stomach. Oh and the way she was mumbling to herself, like she needed consoling right now. Did he really look that bad? He would look but the pain was tingling at the back of his neck now.

“S-Shop.” She said clearly. She started a sentence that he didn't know where it was going. Thankfully, she elaborated.

“Affamata keeps a First-Aid-Kit that could, Help. You.” When she finished, she started to slowly move towards him, with her hands up like Peter had a police badge on him. He half formed a rebuttal when he spat it out. His mouth moved faster than his mind. What did he even say? He was losing blood. And that bullet was like way weird.

“M Not gonna blow up, already blew- blown up. Guh, down there.” Spider-Man slurs, and sighs deeply before continuing with a sharp inhale, now shifting his hand over the spot near his hip. The rush of his fading adrenaline now becoming a grey film over his mind.

“Not a usual drug deal. It was drugs though!.. Fuckin Drugs they were.” He continued his messy thought, watching blearily as you rushed over to let him fall on top of you. ‘Drugs for me.’ he added in his head.

Then they moved to the stairs, and Peter kept on with retelling his story. His lips were numb and it was kinda fun being more aware of his gums than his lips. Heh, gums. When's the last time he's had gum? No like Juicy Fruit Gum, because he hadn't had that kind in a long long time cus who likes juicy froot. Middle school? Mental note ask flash when he last forced peter to chew old hard gum when he had braces.

But he should tell you about what actually happened in the fight. Had he already? He can't even tell what he's saying right now, so probably? He suddenly found himself on the floor. Pizza Princess dropped him! He could hear her shuffle around him worriedly, heaving him back up. He giggled under his mask as he continued to be dead weight. He didnt feel like he was dying as much anymore, like he was stuck in purgatory

Then they were outside, the cold air waking him up a bit. He should help, he could walk on his own. But then again no he can't. So he decided not to be as much dead weight. Peter picked up his feet as best in sync as he could. As he was, Pickpocket turned to give him the saddest puppy stare he's even seen. Not on purpose, but how a dog glances at you when you accidentally step on its tail.

He starts apologizing as best he could, leaning on you a bit more. The floor was like liquid to him. ‘A bit too liquid’ he thinks, watching the word flail around him, you grabbing him around the waist before starting to drag him somewhere. Pizza. What's aunt mays favorite pizza? Spring salad pizza?how. How many season and month jokes has she gotten before. She'd probably laugh at each one. Too nice.

He blacked out for a bit. He knows because it is no longer windy, and he was last conscious when it was windy. Also because he's on the floor again. Cold floor. Pickpocket yells at him for something, picks him up and then puts him back down. Then she drags him on the floor, where? He didn't know, he'd closed his eyes a long time ago thinking about how his first cd was Bjork.

“Hes veeeeeeeeenus as a boy”

His shut eye was actually starting to turn into sleep, but he didn't want to fall asleep, so instead he fell into a sleep paralysis type of fight for his consciousness. PickPocket was talking to him, but her voice was so weirdly calming he was losing his battle. He won for a quick second. And he took his chance of consciousness to tell PickPocket he was at the end of this battle, and was choosing to conk out. Although he might rather be on the floor so he could stretch out, he grabbed Pickpocket closer on the bench.

Then she whispers a word and the lights are off. But the sleep isn't sleep because he can't have anything. Flashes of the subway station and bits and pieces of the train squealing on the tracks interrupt his darkness of sleep. And then something is weirdly funny and shakes him out of his sleep for longer than usual, but then it turned into a sick coughing, the kind that hurt y'know, and he was awake for now.

He sat in a train, and started to lift his mask.

“This mask is supposed to be extra breathable thanks to engineering stuff, but O-” He sneezes into his elbow and urgh ew, he hasn't sneezed like that since the fourth grade. Pickpocket puts tissue into one of his hands and he uses it swiftly.

After that he returned to his restless sleep, this time only stirring when they passed by fluorescent station signs. And then when he discovers he's on an escalator. Strange confusion washes over him, he could feel his consciousness slowly returning to him. His confusion not letting him hear what he asked Pickpocket.

“Queens, Hunters Point, we're going to Affamata so I can patch you up more.” You said, staring at the station below.

Once they both did, he saw tall metal fencing surround the exit/entrance. Metro was open 24/7… what was this? He wanted to do something but felt the fatigue in his muscles, so he started dumbly between the fence and you.

Then you kicked down the fence with a startlingly loud crash. People with their phone already out for the Bugles' new headlines. Pickpocket them through shady back alleys, and no one touched or even called out to her, or him.

He didn't say anything, just watching Pickpocket heave as she powered the trip to Affamata. After you struggled with your own employee keys, he hit the tile wall, feet away from the kitchen doors. He continued to watch as she got a first aid kit and then started in the wrong direction.

“I- The most I think i can do is disinfect it” you stuttered.

“Do that” He said, head lolling to the side, still fighting to be awake.

But through his sleep drunken haze, he walked her through his treatment of his wounds. She crouched there, listening and trying to memorize what he was doing. Not before he had to take the entire thing into his control… At least she tried.

With his returning consciousness, he cracked a few jokes and actually started to feel better. Much better than the feverish and weirdly tingly way he was earlier. He wrapped himself up nice and tight with the gauze, and then started to actually get up. No way he was staying here!

In the cool hallway of Affamata, he stood and waited once again for Cinderella to finish the will of her evil step sister, Spider-Man.

“I guess this is good-bye for tonight?” He says, his hands now on his hips.

“Let me walk you to the parking lot? In the back of course.” she responded, eyes glued to the floor. Looking shy, much different from how she looked earlier today. They walked to the back parking lot together, Peter noticing she had a tiny little limp. He really should've done something instead of being a jackass dead weight the entire time.

“Y’Know Joes, is like 10 times better.” the Vigilante says, referring to a nearby ma and pa pizza shop a few blocks away, kicking a rock across the faded white lines of the parking lot.

“Y’know. I don't work here. I'm an indentured servant, thanks to yours truly," She says, twirling her hand toward him, then bowing into a deep curtsy. Standing backup in the same overdone sense. She didn't seem to notice the wear on her body right now.

They continue with the banter for a bit before he finally swings away, pain immediately reactivating through his body. Dumbass. But from near a block away, as he was still honing in on her voice, he heard her say something.

“Let the bedbugs bite!” she whispered, and he felt an anxiety he knew all too well. He really should get this over with quickly. She doesn't need to be involved.

—

It really wouldn’t hurt anyone to visit F.E.A.S.T. right now. He could check up on ‘student victim #63794’- via aunt May, talk to may and possibly help around. So that's what he did, quickly there, not before a quick snack though.

He walked into F.E.A.S.T. with half a panini hanging out of his mouth. Giving a few people a tight lipped smile, he found May near the bathrooms. Right next to you. Aunt May turned quickly, smiling before grabbing your shoulder.

You turned plainly, looking like you were in the building when it exploded. But holy helllll he was in no place to judge. He looked much worse for much much much longer. He finished be panini as you stood up, walking somewhere where you could talk privately. But as he'd walk a creeping half memory makes its way back to him.

He remembers pulling up his mask to sneeze sometime during last Friday, but his memory had gotten worse that night and he didn't remember if his mask went up any higher that night. Even his memories of when he was physically better were just as mentally bad, black spots interrupting his thoughts like a silent film.

From what he could remember, you didn't show much sign of seeing his face. And you weren't now, but when he first told MJ- she pretended he didn't exist for 2 days!! Which you werent doing but you just saw your apartment be blown to smithereens and… who the fuck is he kidding you probably saw his dumb baby face. Did he tell you his name too? Was now even a good time to ask? Urgh.

As he followed, he sighed.

“Have you spoken to your school yet?” He strolled behind you, asking the question softly, mentally waving away his anxious thought cloud.

“Yes. And my parents. And I’m still fucking here.” You snapped back. Peter didn’t mind your tone though, he’d seen many people in different stages of grief, and also knew how to aggravate someone in that position.

“Well, I just came here to make sure you were okay, told the-” He scrounged for the pizza store owner's name- “Pizza guy you had to take some time off, i'm not gonna bother you either. But uhm, if you need anything, I have strings to pull.” He said.

You both were in a random storage room, dusty boxes and overflowing carts behind him. The fluorescent lights wash you out, emphasizing your grim look.

“It's- just. I dunno, I've never had anything close to this happen to me.” You sighed, crossing your arms and leaning on a metal shelf.

“I mean, I know May very well, and F.E.A.S.T. has been a part of that too. I've been down on my luck a lot, and I mean a lot. But May and everyone here took such good care of me. Uhm, Jeanine- brunette woman with glasses, can help with looking for a new apartment or dorm if you need.” He says, also leaning on a shelf, his hands braced against it as he leaned his body against it.

“Yeah, everyone has been jumping at giving me a tour.” You roll your eyes.

“I'm grateful though,” You unfurl one of your hands” I mean thank you, i wouldn't have made it here without you. But… can we maybe talk about something else that isn't my homelessness?” She says, staring at the wall nearest her.

“Uhm, yeah sure. Is it okay if it's about.. What were sorta doin. Oscorp?” He asks, now also leaning his head on his hands. (essentially this pose but actually putting his head on his hands.)

“Yes, yeah just anything that's not about.. Me? What's going on with me now?” You snap, your head jerking with your strained words.

“Yes mamm! Last Friday, I wouldn't normally act that way with bullets. HammerHead has genetically engineered a bullet that targets my.. Spideryness. So if we continue this we might have more run-ins with it, but I don't, want that.” He pauses as you slide down the shelf to sit down.

“Horrible horrible feeling when I got shot. D- What you remember about.. How did I act?” He says, ‘did you see my face?’ ringing in his mind

You don't respond for a second, then scoffed, saying.

“Uhm, just you being totally fucked out. Just clearly weren't there.”

He hums in approval, no updates on seeing face- leaning towards no. He pushes off the shelf to sit in front of you against a box. You pick up a pen off the floor and start to disassemble it, he breaths deeply while pinpointing where you had set the line.

“ Well, that's what I expected. I can barely remember anything. But got some valuable stuff from the shady lab they were using. Uhm…. Oh! I don't know if you know, but the police detained someone from the Oscorp charity event, and she broke out the next day!” He threw his hands in the air, like he hadn't seen it happen before.

He continued to recount some things from the morning, pausing on the story of Thera, when another thought hit him. He didn't know why he was so worried about you seeing his face, if he asked you would either say no or yes. And he wasn't showing her his face by asking. He just avoided some Parker luck. Maybe it was all mental… or maybe it was an inescapable curse on his bloodline.

“Back to Thera, the girl who escaped prison, her story I guess-” He started back up into that story, when you perked up and interrupted him.

“Wait like Thera my roommate, Thera Johnson” You said, eyebrows knitting together and your mouth slightly agape.

“Thera like HammerHead goon who said her building got blown up, Thera Johnson.” He squinted at you.

“Tha-That was my fucking roomate.” You say moving from how you were seated.

“She got my fucking dorm blown up! What the fuck!” You screech, now standing to pace the room.

“Woah, are you sure she was your roommate? Curly dark hair- Was she the lady you mentioned last night? When I asked you if you'd seen anything suspicious?” He asked, moving to put his head on his knees.

“Y-yeah…” You stopped pacing to stand in front of Spider-Man.

“Well.. anything more suspicious you could remember about her?” He said as he decided ro get up too, people standing made him stand up too. Grabbing onto the shelf with a hand and holding on as he tilted forward.

“No. J-just she was loud. Bought and ate a family sized bag of doritos a week” You say, a foggy look smothering your earlier one of curiosity.

“Sure-” He laughs “But, i don't think that has much to do with HammerHead” He says.

He was going to ask you a few more questions when he noticed your foggy look turn misty as tears welled in your eyes. He didn't say anything as he hugged you. Your arms enfolded against his chest as he wraps his own around your back.

You both stand there for a bit, Peter not moving. He silently worried he caused it, he hoped if he did cross a barrier you would tell him.

“I should've stopped her.” Your voice cracks and she seems to melt into his hold. Peter finds your tone grimly familiar to himself

“She's my roommate and now” You stifle a sob “People are seriously hurt, and are going to be in the hospital for maybe months, and. And it's me I'm just as responsible.”

“What- people could be crippled because i couldn't keep her from the building. I just-” her past attempts of quieting herself being thrown out the window as she starts to bawl. And just as he did when they both witnessed the attack itself, he holds you quietly.

Peter didn't need you to go into full detail to know how you felt. He readjusted his arms to put them on top of your head in a weird cradle. May used to do it to him when he was younger, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss it.

“It's not your fault. We can blame ourselves for others' actions for all eternity.” He pulls from the hold to grasp your shoulders and look into his eyes as best he could. The lenses had their stupid cons.

“But it's already happened. We can't change the past, but the future is still for us to choose.” He draws back into the hug, and then starts to rock a bit. Another May hack. Your cries come in fits, turning your head once or twice as you both stay there for a minute.

“Ugh, stop trying to put me to sleep.” You swallow thickly, your voice still muddled from your crying. You push on his chest and he pulls his arms from you.

“Sorry. I,I want you to know that a lot of stuff is going to happen in the next few weeks, and I'll do my best to be there for you okay? I am the one who should've done something, but did not. So now I'm doing this. Helping you.” Peter says.

“It's always helped me feel better about guilt, I'm sure if you reach out to your roommates you can find ways to help.” He continues, now following her out of the storage room.

She hums and walks to her curtained off bunk. You sit on your bed and he pauses in front just in case you say anything else.

“Yeah. Thanks for being here. Ill… ill take your advice. But again thanks for spending this time with me” She sighs, looking up at him.

“No worries, I've really… done worse.things. In this amount of time.” A grimace spreads on his face, he really has. Besides, spending time with you was weirdly therapeutic to him.

“I know- but” You glance at the large clock on this wall of the shelter “I don't want to keep you this long again. You have a life” She laughs slightly.

“Oh no it's fine im su-” He looks at the clock himself. It's been an hour. Which usually wouldn't be a problem but everythings a problem for him.

“Holy muda chucka what the fuck im late.” He hisses, rushing out a bye to you and out the door.

It wasn't a super urgent thing but he was already 10 minutes late to meeting up with Harry for the first time… in 8 years.

ShithsihtithdihsSHITT. Is all that runs through his head as he runs outside and suddenly back into F.E.A.S.T. He appears back at your bunk and grabs your forearm, pulling you up from the bed. He'd promised May last night he'd actually get you to get started with apartments, Aunt May said ‘if you don't start now, it's really really hard later.’ And he'd promised her!

They both stumble into Jeanine's office as she sorts through papers. Their sudden arrival sent the papers flying. Spider-Man instantly started to push the papers back into Jeanine's hands.

“Sorry, help her-” He glances at your disgruntled glare. “With apartment things immediately under.. Spider.. Jurisdiction. Bye!” He chokes out, leaving you in the room as quick as he came.

—

He got on the suit quickly, thank you Harry and delivered dry cleaning! He combed through his hair with wet hands and then dashed out into the street. A huge con of having a friend who's uber rich and has an equally snooty set of etiquette rules, is being ready properly.

When Harry had messaged him about a small gathering he was having with family at home, he didn't expect to be invited. But with the sheer amount of time he'd spent with him in 7th grade, he wasn't that surprised. He was there after school nearly every day. Then Peter got bitten, and Harry went to britain. And then stayed there for an extra couple of college years.

Harry was supposed to be here last night… at the charity event. Peter did all that sneaking and changing and avoiding you, just for Harry to be nowhere. Guess jet lag got him. Still, here he was now, knocking on the sorta grand doors of Prince Tea House. It was.. Nice 30 minutes from his dingy apartment, so he was around 50 minutes late.

He wished he could say fashionably late, but he knew that wasn't this crowd and prepared for Harry's Nonna to glare at him the entire time. Good thing he brought flowers.

He walked in, half hiding his face in the small bouquet he got, and was guided to a private room. Of course. The glass walls cast a warm light on the 5 people there! That was a lot for an Osborn family reunion!

“Ah, Peter. Ever on time.” Norman says cooly from the head of the table.

He grins nervously, heading over to Nonna, Harry's late mothers mother, and gives her the bouquet. She huffs and rolls her eyes, then gives him a quaint kiss on the cheek.

“Uhm, to Jimmy Buffet, maybe?” Peter shrugs, old people like old music references.

Norman doesnt respond, so Peter takes the seat next to Harry. It was now time for introductions. Out of the 5 people he saw coming in, minus people he knew, left two people he didn't know. An older woman and a man about Peter and Harry's age. So Peter half stood and shook hands with them both as a proper gentleman would do.

“I'm Charlotte and this is my son, Jude. I'm a distant cousin to Norman, coming to visit for a bit. We recently moved to the area.” Charlotte said, her highlighted hair bouncing as she sat back down.

Peter continued to introduce and small talk with everyone until it ended. And through it all, he could sense the palpable glare of Norman Osborn towards his distant family. Peter had glance-talked to Harry to confirm their mutual exasperation. Harry nodded faintly after following Peter's gaze, staring at Norman to Charlotte then making a brooding glare.

“Not even your family catches a break?” Peter whispered to Harry, Nonna had gone into a very distracting story from her childhood.

“No-one. Them particularly i guess? Been a total control freak since we met.” Harry responds with a grim look.

Peter sighs sharply, no-one. Truly. Then his attention turned to the little TV in the corner, broadcasting news. More specifically, the news from last night. All the details he couldn't juice outta the police.

“Last night a college dorm in midtown manhattan was bombed, thankfully…with zero casualties. Authorities are pointing this to the fact the fire alarm was set off before the attack, letting everyone from the affected floors evacuate beforehand. “ The screen cuts to footage of the building crumbling, then back to the caster.

“Security footage shows two hooded figures entering the area of the attack, then leaving the same way they came.” They continue, showing the siad footage

Two dark forms of seemingly very large men pass on and off the screen.

“We also have information that this attack might have something to do with an uptick in gang violence. If you live near the Lefcourt Colonial Building, please keep an eye out and stay safe” The newscaster finishes, the channel then cutting to an ad.

Peter squinted as the channel replayed security footage of the building. He's glad no one was hurt, and felt his heart tighten, he'd been in your position often. And hoped that he could give you what he needed when this had happened to him.

Plus, from what youd said back at F.E.A.S.T. , you thought Thera had blown up the building. But with the way the newscaster framed it, and by the little blurry footage of two people entering the building- it couldnt have been.

And that Jeanine could help you find an apartment… Thinking of apartments, when was the last time he paid rent? Shit.

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#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #slowburn #spiderman x you #peter parker x y/n #spiderman

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doturnaround · 14 days ago

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Welcome to my blog! I am 20 years old and a dedicated lover girl, with the exception of Nazis. And cops. And TERFS. And racists, and my father but that is less than relevant. <3

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doturnaround · 14 days ago

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Commit the crime, gotta do the time. Right? Thankfully you were let off with only a few weeks of 'community' service. Sentenced by the one and only Spider-Man. Guess he really IS a menace.

chapt 2- split second - 5k words - explicit language. crossposted onto ao3 under the same name.

Just as you did Monday, and Tuesday, and every single day before today, a broom was in your hands. A red, cheap, plastic broom was clinging to the sweat of your palms and putting an ache in your shoulders. And just as last Friday, a thump sounded from behind you, obviously from a certain visitor…

You turned slowly, now facing the man clinging to the glass windows of Affamata. You give him a scowl before pushing open the doors, standing outside as you hold the door for him.

“Y’know the first time I came here those doors were unlocked?” He says, crawling down from his elevated spot on the windows, landing right next to you.

“Yea, kinda hoping someone would break in and shoot me.” You respond sarcastically while following him back into the shop.

“Really…” He spins on his heel to face you. “shouldn’t joke about that kinda stuff” Spider-Man says with concern lining his voice.

“Boo hoo,Where do you need me to drag you back here from this time?” You sigh, setting the broom against a wall.

“OzCorp!” The masked man cheers jokingly, before continuing. “Yeah, so, I just need you to distract some people for, like, 2 minutes! Maybe.”

“Couldn't ask anyone else? Just, like putting me to work?” You groan from the leather seat you had just found purchase in.

He mumbles something unintelligible as he thought for a second. “BUT! General conveniences and possible leads on our past case have made you the most eligible contestant!” He says pointing two finger guns at you. “A little birdie told me the same mafia daughter was going to be there for an actual charity event.” He explains.

“But since we don't have an invitation, or a disguise, we're going to get those things and then head over!” He says, looking past you to the digital clock. “And we do not have a lot of time to do that!!”

“Wait, you want me to dress up as some rich person, and sneak into a charity event? I- no. I can't do that.” You say, pointing to yourself with a crazed expression.

“Oh, no. I wouldn't do that to you, didn't assume you could either-” He says

“Excuse me!?” You squeak.

“Calm down, you're going to sneak in as a tray carrier, serve hors d'oeuvres and all that.” He says as he slouches against the wall. “ I need to swipe some info from OzCorp- the main reason I need you there, but I was also hoping you could get the deats on our misses”.

“Oh my god, I hate you.” You murmur, looking at the floor with a plain ‘what am i doing with my life’ expression plastered across your face.

“That's great! I have a little gadget that will keep us in contact,” He says, pulling out a dark earbud. “It works like it does in a spy movie, hold down to talk to me, you don't get to mute it, and triple tap to send me a distress signal. Okay?”

He holds out the ear piece to you, seemingly still connecting it to his own. “Oh, and you just kinda thrust it in there- y’know,” He says

“Ew dont talk about it like that.” you say, taking the earpiece hesitantly.

“Like what…? He asks.

You don't respond, instead placing it in and try to ignore the fact you wont be able mute the thing. No breaks from the pest today.

“So I do have some favors around town, so we’ll go get your costume from the, uh, Lesters Dry-Clean. And then you change there and i’ll probably figure everything else out by that time, so letsa goo!” Spider-man says.

“Uh- ‘probably’? I need a yes before you drag me out there!” You screech at his casual attitude.

“Okay, I will figure everything else out”

“Also isn’t Lester’s like, across town?” You question, staring at him worriedly.

“Yeah so lets, gooooooo” he says impatiently, pointing a thumb at the doors behind him.

“Oh my god…” you murmur, starting to lock up shop.

You would’ve taken longer if Spider-Man hadn't started helping you clean, but you did lock up quickly, and now were clinging onto him, swinging wildly through New York. Once at Lesters, he tried the ear piece, got the clothes through weird charades with a worker, and was currently fiddling with a printer and his phone.

“Well, there’s a bathroom down there, go ahead and change, and when you're ready, we’ll get going.” He said, indicating to a dim hall, hidden by the rows of film covered clothes.

And you do, slipping into the clearly run down bathroom, and staring at the clothes with questioning glance. You put them on. The starched shirt was tight and itchy, the pants the same but with a tag stabbing you in your lower back, and now there was an actual spider buzzing in your ear.

You look in the mirror with a heavy sigh, what the hell were you doing. You really did look like a proper waitress, you even sported the suicidal look most retail workers had! So getting in wouldn’t be the hard part, save for your nerves not understanding that part.

“Heyy, Cindy! Let’s go! The gala starts- in like 30!!” Spider-Man calls, his voice muffled by the bathroom door. “Ahh fuck you!” You respond, your gut churning with anxiety. Still you exit, sending another death glare his way.

“Should I start calling you an evil step sister instead…? Your glares are getting quite nasty.” He says while walking with you out the back door, The brisk fall air biting at your nose. You ignore him. Although you do still hear him continue to mumble about the evil step sisters, ‘what even are their names?’

“Here is your card! Don't lose it.” He clearly says, handing you the paper. Taking the card, you silently chant ‘I’ll be fine I’ll be fine I’ll be FINE!’ In your head. The card was off white, with gold trim and dainty black lettering. Why they didn’t just use digital invites? Only God knows.

He stares at you staring for a bit before saying “well let’s actually go now!” And wrapping his arm around your back.

You grit your teeth, and mentally prepare for being flung to the gala, fully stuck to him like a monkey. You try to forget the height, or the fact you were relying on a piece of melted saran wrap, but ultimately fail with each swing and turn, only stilled when you arrive whole in a back alley.

Once securely down he tells you where you, and you alone, were going to enter into OzCorp. He also told you what to say, and what to do upon entering. You listen begrudgingly, walking up to the intimidating bouncer blocking the doors. The entry to the gala.

“Your invitation is totally wrong, whatever hack site you got this off of ripped ya ass off,” The bouncer says after taking a quick look at the card. You feel the fear melt into your bones, and you look around anxiously. Spider-Man was probably too busy scaling the building to save you right now.

“Uhm, I just really wanted to uh serve people?” You mubble with a tilted grin. The bouncers face flashes with plain anger, but surprisingly, it wasn't towards you.

“Head on in. You know you're not getting paid for this right?” The man says, and you nod sheepishly. “I don't know what you're doing, but go beat those rich ass-holes into the ground for me. Go for their throats.” He waves you into the building, and you nod your head, grateful.

The building was clean and stunk of bleach. Where you had come in, it looked more like a nursing home, with its warm lighting and very blank walls, probably some reception area. You found an emptier hall in the empty lobby to turn on your communicator. “Hello?” You whispered.

“Hi!” He responds, wind rushing behind him and a slight labor in the voice.

“I'm in now, and i really dont know where the fuck i am. I know you said get to the kitchen, but I literally can't find a map in here..?” You stutter, moving from your nook to glance around once again. Nothing but tan walls and white moulding.

“Welp, putting ‘not much of a listener’ on your job review...” He says. “Just help me goddammit! And you can't give me a review without an actual job to given me!” you yell whisper. He doesn't respond, so you start to trek down a random hall.

You found a couple down a hall and followed them until you came upon a silver door with the red text “EMPLOYEES ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.” You let out a sigh and push into the crowded kitchen. The hired chefs were chopping away and some other workers were crowded around silver trays.

You stood for a bit before realizing how you probably looked and swiped up a full tray. Champagne, simple. You’d worked as a waiter a few times before, quickly getting the tray stable and holding it appropriately on your hand.

You thanked whoever hired this many people, following the other waiter you saw as soon as you left the kitchen. The woman ‘led’ you to a small service elevator, you smiled awkwardly as entered with her. You followed her to the 4th floor and into an outdoor courtyard. You knew you were in the right place.

You paused sheepishly as you entered, scanning the place to look for the same girl from the Yards. She wasn't. Still, you continued your other fake job and walked towards a table. You definitely embarrassed yourself at some of the tables but eventually spotted a familiar face. The mafia daughter, you really should call her by her name, was sitting at a table with another woman and noticeably empty glasses. Guess you overlooked her before. remind yourself not to do what you did at the last table, you approach her.

You don't say anything, instead pausing at her table with a small smile and a nod to the tray in your hands. This gets their attention and they giggle at each other before each grabbing one. You stay a bit longer, watch the other woman stare at the whole bottle of champagne on the tray, and you turn it around so she could see the label.

While this was happening, you were trying to eavesdrop on the conversation the daughter had started back up.

“I don't know!? The guy just wouldn't back off with the deal and shit, like how many times do you have to say no?”

The other woman glanced at her with an annoyed gaze, murmuring “These guys learn the exact opposite of the things they need too” before grabbing the bottle and examining it more.

“But anyways I've sent some guy to go actually get them off our dicks and cut it with the deal, knowing my ‘employees’ though, i'm probably going to have to do it myself.” The daughter sighs again.

“Wait, here? Ugh way to be ‘veiled from the public eye’.” The other woman says, with a smile, clearly mocking someone.

“Yeah! Johnny insisted here, like… is there not a whole chief of police like, A story above you?” Both of them burst out laughing at this, and when it died off, you realised you were just standing there like a gossiping idiot. You turned around like you weren't listening, stared at the taken bottle, and placed a corkscrew on the table with a nod.

Scrambling into an empty room, you press on your ear piece and say “I've got a uhh, update on our?girl?”

“And?” He says expectantly

“I think they're trading around something tonight, on the 3rd floor? Also you didn't tell me that the chief of police was going to be here??” You respond, glancing around to make sure you were alone.

“Uh, didn't know it was my responsibility to tell you the exact attendees here? Thanks though, try to keep an eye on… our girl? A bit possessive don't you think?” Spider-Man laughs.

“I don't know!? You're the crime boss guy or whatever… But we need a name for her other than mafia boss daughter… lady-person.” You say shyly, your way with words was not always the right one. “What's her fathers name at least?” You ask

“I dunno, I think her family is unfortunately in the up n rising and new. Bye now!” He says, rushing his ending of the conversation.

“Bitch” you say as the comm beeps.

However you note her as ‘Gina’ in your mind, a mafia-yl name that should do the trick. You then start back towards the elevator, your tray was near empty after all…

—

It might've been more than 4 hours when you noticed ‘Gina’ move from her table after a phone call. You placed all your full glasses onto another waiter's tray before starting to follow her. She walked quickly, anger in each stomp of her heels.

You were careful to follow her from far behind, although she didn't turn around once. Quickly she had taken you through a stairwell down to the second floor and was now slamming open the doors to a crappy conference room.

“Uh, she just entered conference room 243, there's no windows so i guess take t-” You had started to report to him where you were, but two jacked guys started down the hall you had come. You dashed quietly to the corner and hid behind the wall, looking over to see if you really needed to make a break for it.

You held your breath as you pulled back, staring at the wall straight ahead of you, when you noticed a red splotch in your peripheral vision. You're about to scream when a gloved hand covers your mouth.

“Okay i'm sorry that was totally my fault, but please don't scream” Spider-Man says from your side. You kick his shin before removing his hand and whispering,

“Yeah and it's about to be your fault when we die! I have a bad feeling about that room..”

As if you'd summoned the trouble, the sound of a table being thrown over comes from the room. Just as he had acted at the Yards, the hero sprung into action. The threw open the door and was quickly thrown into (what sounded like) a fight. You winced from your hiding position, this was becoming a pattern.

In a moment of bravery, you got up to glance at the room. When you got to the glass door, the past table was thrown through it.The long table took the entire wall of frosted glass with it, the glass scratching your face.It narrowly missed you as it half way wedged itself into the opposing wall. You then made the decision to get out of there, you still had your communicator and should be, partially, fine.

You quickly turned, heading back from where you came, and started to fly down the stairs. The image of the large table literally being thrown so hard, that it was stuck in the wall, powering each step of yours. It was about a foot above the ground and completely held by the wall, how hard did someone throw that thing? That wasn't a small conference room, it was long so therefore a long table. Who threw that table??

You were soon in the lobby again, nothing looking like there was a fight happening feet above. While weaving your way to the exit, you bump into someone you didn't expect, Thera. She looked shaken and generally frazzled. Before you could ask her if she was okay, she ran… away. And as she ran, you noticed the gun in her hand.

That stopped you for a second to think, which only led to you decking to hide in a bathroom until this altercation was over. You didn't feel like bumping into her again, not yet anyways. You luckily found a single stall bathroom and locked yourself in there. You thought to call Spider-Man but then you got in your head about what ifs and his circumstances when you called, making you call him after about 20 minutes in the bathroom.

“Are you okay?” Spider-Man gasps into the comm.

“Oh, uh yeah! Sorry for disappearing, I get skittish when a table gets thrown at me.” You smile, thankful that you didn't have to worry about what you had to say first.

“Could’a told me earlier, It wouldn't have interrupted anything. Where are you?” He says, still cooling down from whatever happened.

“Bathroom on the first floor, actually. I'll meet you at the exit from where we came alright?” You say as you exit the bathroom.

You do in fact meet him there, not before an awkward stare off with the bouncer once again. You did end up moving away from him, the entrance was right next to the alley, so you just moved over there. Once again finding safety in the form of a building to hide behind.

Spider-Man flops down beside you, seemingly coming from the wall.

“Did you by chance see anyone suspicious running away? Was occupied with someone else upstairs.” he questions, placing a hand high on the wall and leaning against it.

“Yeah, um, curly haired lady. Had a gun.” You say, your mind lagging a bit.

“And did she by any chance have this” He pulls a ripped piece of cloth with a patch sewn onto it. The patch had a seemingly simple house crest on it with the small white letters H.H. on it. And as you thought about it, you could remember the patch sewn onto the shoulder of Thera shirt.

“Yeah, I- nevermind” You started to talk about her being your roommate, but chose not to.

The vigilante seemed to crumble a bit after hearing that.

“Oh my god! This dude can't let go of ‘Ruling New York’! This is like the 7th time he's stirred up more Maggia stuff.” He whines, putting his hands on his face.

“Mm that's such a real and important problem, but you said you took me here to distract someone?” You said sarcastically. Mainly wondering what he was doing while you were working…

“Well, I was scanning my bandages the other night, looking at what happened to me. Thanks again for being there, although I really should stop relying on others to get me home. Anyways.” He explains, but you noticed the slight hesitation in the beginning of his voice. But you also should really stop over analyzing things.

“Yeah, mind getting me home now? Or to the Dry-Cleaners?” You ask, he didn't say anything about the clothes after you've worn them.

“Oh- i forgot about that, but yes, we do! You are wearing someone else's clothes after all!” He laughs, as he wraps his arms around your back.

You yelp, twisting the fabric of his suit in your hands. “Would it kill you to warn me!!” You screech into the air.

“Maybe. Haven't checked!”

The ground and surrounding area were sparkling with street lamps and such, which you used to distract yourself from the heights you were reaching. You could feel the slightest difference in your gut when he droops a bit. You'd usually cling on as tight as you could when this happened, but now, you only clenched my jaw as the gut dropping feeling now quickly passed. So much for ‘Not doing this long enough to get used to it’.

You did still shut your eyes when he made a wide turn, the feeling of being near horizontal while mid air was something you were never going to be accustomed to. You also think Spider-man tried to say something to you once or twice but you feigned ignorance at his questions.

Landing uncomfortably, you peel off of him. “Why is your suit sticky??” You screech.

“Champagne, Mafiaette didn't like my crashing of her conference.” He says bluntly “I also forgot about that…. Sorry?” He shrugs at your blank stare. “I'm sorry!” he laughs, now ushering you back into Lesters Dry-Clean.

As he did so, you said “I don't know what worse, you calling that girl Mafiaette, or forgetting that someone threw champagne on you.”

“Hopefully Mafiaette?” He questions with his hands out. You then decided it was worse when he let you become sticky too from his forgetfulness. Ew. And probably even worse for the Dry-Cleaners.

You returned to the bathroom to change once again, now staring at a much more disheveled version of yourself. You've looked worse. Leaving with the dirty clothes in your hands, you then dump them into a bin with ‘dirty’ on it. You turn around and find Spider-Man signing someone's shirt. Giving him a look, and then staring pointedly at the doors, he gets up.

While you were walking out, Spider-Man said “Oh, have you seen our article on the Bugle?” a smile evident in his voice. Your mind flashes back to the photos taken of you dragging a half dead man around New York. Your confused face must've told him all that he needed to know, because he then pulled out his phone, and showed you an online article from the Bugle.

“THE MENACE, SPIDER-MAN, NOW USING CITIZENS FOR PERSONAL GAIN

SPIDER-MAN is now spotted with a young woman, injured and clearly feeding off her helpfulness and dignity. If you or any of your family know this woman, please tell us. That way we can get a first person interview and fully reveal the crimes of this delinquent!!!”

The article continued to victimize you, and you did feel slight truthfulness with your relationship with the “unsquashable bug of New York!!”, it was completely biased and nonsensical. The photo was as you were walking away from the camera, your face thankfully obstructed from view, a bloody Spider-Man in full view splayed over your back.

Giving his phone one last good look you say “Hope they don't take too much of a liking to me.” You'd played with the idea of fame, and just thought it wasn't for you. He pulled his phone back and stashed in some hidden compartment.

“Yeah, I'm glad they pitched you as a victim of me, and not a scheming minion of mine.” He says, lazily slouches against the outside wall.

“I'm not denying it” You throw your hands up in a shrug.

“Yeah, and I'm not denying the idea of actually sending you to jail” He sasses back.

Your jaw drops, “ You do actually cause thousands of dollars in property destruction, that you don't pay for!” You say, pointing an accusing finger.

“Quoting Jameson is not helping your case”

“My case? You also are partially responsible for some of the crime in this city! Would ScrewBall even exist?” You argue, stepping closer to him.

“Do you want another week working?!” He says, stepping closer as you did too. You opened your mouth to say something when he lifted his hand to shushing motion in front of his face, wherefore, in front of yours too.

Each time you made a frustrated gasp, he would shake his finger, and his lens would become somehow wider. You gave in with a frown, turning around with a huff. You start to walk away and he follows you and says,“Also Rikers instability is not my fault in the slightest!” He had caught up to you at this point in annoying speed walking.

“After I send them to the police my hands are clean!” He continues. And with each you can feel him getting under your skin.

“But your foot print sure isn't!” You say, determined to get the last word in.

“Y’know what? I don't want to fight! Lets hug it out-” He wraps his arms over your shoulders and full on picks you up. In response, you wack him slightly in the arm, squealing.

“Just take me home already, asshole!” You exclaim, trying to ignore the heat going to your face and the flutter in your stomach. And as he sets you down, you mumble about your clothes now smelling like champagne and jackass. He gives a nonchalant look as he repostions his arms beneath yours and shoots a web up.

You don't think about it when he immediately picks you up and gets you both to the roof of a tall building. You were a bit too focused on how tight he was holding you now. Maybe you've been too distracted, but now you can feel his arm squish your chest against his. If you thought about it too hard you could maybe even Your feet scrape along the roof until you both slowed and you found stable ground. And although it was hard with your weak knees, you stood.

“I didn't ask where to drop you off.” He said with a weak laugh, watching as you looked around the rooftop.

“Umm, whe- can you drop me off at the Manhattan CVS?' ' You respond, thinking about where exactly the bug boy had dragged you once again. That and not his arms and how strong he is oh my fucking GOD.

“The one on Broadway, right?” He double checks “Ye-'' and before you can finish saying yes, he already has his arm wrapped around you.

“This is your warning-” he says, and you tighten your grip against his shoulder with a whine you hope he didn't hear. “And Spider Airlines are now off the ground” he remarks as you lift into the air with scary speed.

Your dorm building was just down the street from CVS, so when you swung around the corner to look down Broadway, you felt your heart drop to your stomach. Where your apartment was, there was a huge, smoking hole. Like a bite was taken out of the top floors of the building. Firemen and police were already at the ground, a group of the tenants and your roommates behind the yellow tape. Ambulances flashing lights driving away with patients, victims.

“Oof, that- that isnt your building right?” You hear Spider-Man yell besides you, although you only accept it as a quiet mumble. You feel your once tight grip loosen, and he holds you tighter as a response. He swung to the top of the CVS, setting you down on unstable legs. Your head was still turned to face your apartment, your eyes glued to the piping and brick sticking out from the rubble. He says something to you once again, but utter distress takes over your body. Your eyes burn, what are you going to do? Your parents do not live anywhere near here, like at all!!!!! Shit. shitshit-

Spider-Man notices, and grabs your face to turn it away from your destroyed building. His voice comes back into focus. “Hey, hey! You'll be okay. I know a place that will take you and you will be fine, you hear me?” Weren't dorms, like better? Safer? Wait no- why are you thinking this? You feel the tears breach containment and gently slide down your face. You twist around for another glance.

“Fuck.” you say as you gently quiver. “All my stuff” You squeak. “Shit!” The tears continue, and you feel Spider-Man release your face to pull you into a tight hug. You were really fucking off in your estimate of 14 years. Only took a week for your apartment to fall to shit with the rest of the city.

And even as your face was hidden in the suit of Spider-Man, you could still hear the crumble of the building leveling itself. Even though he smelt intoxicatingly like champagne and cologne, you could taste the dust in the air. But you could grasp the arms holding you in a hug, and feel something stable to cling to.

You let out a few more choked sobs before shifting your head to look up at the guy you were arguing with a few minutes ago. Did this have to do with Thera? Who are you kidding of course it did. He pats your head in his own form of being reassuring. It's another few minutes before he speaks again.

“I won't stop you, but how long do you want to stay like this? It helps me to get somewhere safe to think”

You push your head into his side a bit before turning your head to the rubble again. “M-maybe” You feel the hot tears slip down your cheeks. You wrap your arms around his back and hide your face back between his bicep and his side.

“I know a shelter that will take you, it's called F.E.A.S.T., they will take care of you okay?” He says, and nods from where you had tucked your face away. He pulls your shoulder up to make you stand up right again, exposing your soaked face to him fully. Your face is sticky.

“Unfortunately you can't swing with someone like that safely, so stand up straight for me just this once okay?” he says softly, you nod, glancing at your shoes. You feel numb as he leaps off the building, arms wrapped around his neck gently, watching the building disappear.

It was late again when you arrived at F.E.A.S.T. You don't really like staying up late but here you are. He walks you inside, and you glance around. Fluorescent lights, some curtained off beds, gym floors, non curtained off beds, an office. You go up stairs. You need to call your parents in the morning.

“This is May, she’ll help you with anything and everything” The hero says.

You look at May, she looks kind, with short white hair and soft eyes. She was woken up for this, for you. You stare at the bookcase in her office

“Mmhm” you respond

They were in conversation before, and it starts back up now. They talk for a while. He grabs your arm again, takes you back down the stairs. You need to call your school in the morning. A plain wire bed, it's your bed, his hand gone, you on the bed, you're alone. You watch him go back to the office and leave through the front doors. You're alone. You find a toothbrush. You brush your teeth. You lie in bed. All you have is the purse beneath your bed. Your bed is going to smell like champagne now. Your bed is going to smell like him now. Is this his fault? Did he throw the table? Time for sleep.

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#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #slowburn #spiderman x you #peter parker x y/n #spiderman

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doturnaround · 15 days ago

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Peter Parker Headcannons

𖤓 Will forget to buy groceries on your list, but will get you flowers

𖤓 Definitely will try to get in bed with you, still in suit and covered in shit.

𖤓 Knows so many restaurant employees and service workers

⤷ Dinner dates do include Jim. He gave peter a discount when the coupon was expired. What wrong with Jim being on our date? He's nice!

𖤓 Late because he was helping someone, feels somewhat indebted

𖤓 Reckless-thinks he's indestructible.

⤷“Just cause you'll heal faster, doesn't mean grabbing a hot tray won't hurt!"

𖤓 Coffee, medication, and alcohol only work in excess amounts. Definitely would overdose anyone else, but not Peter Parker.

𖤓 200k minutes on his spotify wrapped

𖤓 That man LISTENS. To you, to music, he can't stop listening. White noise to bed 100%

𖤓 Kills karaoke, dead,murdered, deceased. You didnt stand a chance when 'Take On Me' came on.

𖤓 Messy handwriting but leaves lots of notes

𖤓 Sleeper Build

𖤓 At least bi-lingual, probably more. he lives in New York for gods sake.

𖤓Love love loves learning. Is there a seminar on it? A virtual class? Oh he’s there.

𖤓 Will cryptically quote/reference a book or poem out of nowhere,

⤷ At a park, just chilling, your working while Peter is writing in a notebook.

When Peter suddenly says “Why did I want to leave a world of minimalist perfection, to explore something unknown?”

You turn your head. “What?”

“Oh, it's nothing, just a book- The Divine Farce. You should read it. Or maybe not, it's a bit gruesome.” You don't end up reading it.

#peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker #headcanon

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doturnaround · 18 days ago

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Commit the crime, gotta do the time. Right? Thankfully you were let off with only a few weeks of 'community' service. Sentenced by the one and only Spider-Man. Guess he really IS a menace.

chapt 1 - first blood - 6k words - explicit language and descriptions of gunshot wounds. crossposted onto ao3 under the same name.

You used to be scared of New York when you were young, as well as anything else that was described as ‘dangerous’ scared seven year old you. And you were (at least) spooked when literal monsters and other freaks of nature spawned in said city. And you could say that you were still scared, but you were mostly too distracted to think of the crimes and basic cryptids in the city. And it’s all due to the following reasons that you can sleep at all in New York City.

A. Because of Spider-Man. ↜ Spider-Man defended you and all other citizens of New York from the crime and violence in the city. This gave you a sense of safety and generated slight ignorance to the danger of your daily life. B.Because of your own crimes. ↜ Fearing for your own prosecution, you didn’t really have the time to worry if you’d be alive to commit your next crime. You gotta put yourself first sometimes. C.Because of your fucked up roomates. ↜ New York cheating citizens with apartments is not a lie. And dorms are no exception. You had too many roommates, all with their own problems, also all with the inability to pitch in and keep up with the chores of the shared apartment. D.Because of college. ↜ Quite simply,you did not fuck around with school work and grades to be worrying about a lizard possibly killing you. Finals are next week!

And maybe your life would have continued just fine if you hadn’t been caught. Sure, you could have found other ways to make money besides pickpocketing, but in your own words: “I only stole from people I knew had extra. If they stepped out of some bougie car, were decked out in designer clothes, or couldn’t stop talking about rich people stuff—like skiing.” That was your definition of ‘extra money indicators, your way of spotting the ideal target.

You were basically Robin Hood, taking from the rich and giving to the poor (yourself).. You rarely stole, and it's not like you liked it! You only did it when you really needed to, and maybe that was becoming a bit too often, but still, you weren’t as bad as the other rampant thugs and villains in the city. Your (slightly) petty thefts were dwarfed when compared to a certain white haired anti-hero. And to think of what got you into this mess.

–

You feel sweat cling to your lower back and forehead. You always get sweaty when doing this, a way to not look suspish! The bald man in front of you had on a lightly striped suit and had a fat wallet bulging from his back pocket, most people think they would notice such a large object missing, but you found out that a simple distraction was prime time for your backpocket to slip your mind. The baldie was conversing with what you assumed was a business partner, and you were waiting for laughing, or some emotion to get the man to forget about the money in his pocket. When suddenly your opportunity struck. Someone did something amusing and the two bursted into annoying, loud, laughter. Using the people passing them on the sidewalk as a guise, you slid up behind him, sneakily grabbed and quickly pulled the wallet out of his pocket.

Shoving it into your own jacket pocket, and feeling your heart rate rise, you head to the alley of your dorm building. You only made it a few feet away from the men in suits when you noticed the red and blue cladden hero in front- above of you. And no matter how bad you wanted to ask for his signature, you knew he had caught you.

Mentally wincing, you feel a sticky, over-cooked spaghetti-like substance wrap around your exposed wrist, and pull your arm up until your elbow is above your head. Spider-Man grabbed the black leather wallet from your outstretched hand, and lazily sliding further down his web, Spider-Man taps the bald man, “I believe this is yours sir.” The man turns around in astonishment and with his mouth agape, his eyes follow the turn of Spider-Man's head to you.

The rest of the scene faded into fuzzy nothingness in your mind, you were only able to grasp that you weren't sent to the police but had instead been signed up to a cleaning job for the man you had tried to steal from, by Spider-Man of course.

–

‘I have some sort of reason for doing that’ you thought to say, but you knew Spider-Man wouldn’t share the idea. If you weren’t in the situation you were in, maybe you’d be happy to work for bug-boy. But not now. Now, you were currently scrubbing the floor of some (most likely) millionaire because Spider-Man caught you pick pocketing the baldie. Every time you think of the bald man, Carlisle, you think of the Totally Spies episode when the villain turns out to be bald, and Alex had said “She's bald, She's bald and she's torturing people who have hair!” Even though you’re not the one who's bald, but are kind of tormenting those who are, you can’t help but relate.

And you did curse yourself for stealing, but not because you felt guilty, but because the guy you’d stolen from had a fucking huge, old ass pizza shop! And 5 days a week for 4 weeks you were going to clean the floor, and do other general closing shift chores as payback for the cost of his wallet. You knew there was much more money in his wallet then the price for your work, so you were... happy you didn't have to do this for too long. You could already feel how your body betrayed you at the end of your first week, sore and stiff.

And it was just another night, although you were running much later than you would like to admit. You would usually be home by n-, well by a few hours ago, but instead you were finally now on the last cleaning task of the day, washing the floors. As in, scrubbing each tile and cleaning the grout. Fuck you Carlisle. Since it was Friday, the shop owner shoved 5 other tasks in your arms for ‘‘deep cleaning, it is the end of the week after all’’. So at 7pm you were still in the shop, on your knees, washing the tiles with elbow grease and the overwhelming need to go home and knock out.

When a dull thud echoed through the pizzeria, you turned your head to see your Cleaning-Charity volunteer manager in front of the glass doors. Spider-Man. Rather than getting up to let him in, you turned back to scrubbing muck, sweat, and probably baby spit, up off the dark tiles.

“Well aren’t you a good Cinderella!” Said the man now standing over you, only his webbed boots in your line of sight. You dont remember him entering the building. He was right though, you really could pass as a cheap cosplay. Suds clinging to you, small soapy bubbles everywhere, and with the bandana on your head to keep your hair out of your eyes. However, instead of helpful rat companions, you got a full grown arachnid furry yapping your ear off.

You shifted further onto your knees to reach the last few dirty tiles. You had worked so hard for your academic success, to move closer to friends and opportunities, in the great city of New York! But here you were, cleaning floors for nothing but a stupid mistake. Getting caught. You paused your scrubbing to look up at the man with a death glare and decided to respond, “Wanna ask the peanut gallery?” Making the sarcasm clear in your annoyed tone.

“Well Cinderella, I’ve got an invitation to the ball, but the ball is a night patrol with me and I'm asking you cause I need to know if you know someone. So go get your glass slippers!” He says, hand flailing to refer to you and him when he deemed it necessary in his gesticulation.

“What makes you think I would know… whoever you think I know!” You say, squeezing the water out of the sponge in your hands into a bucket.

”They’re rich and go to your college” he states “That’s it!?” You hiss. ”Yeah?… C'mon” He says, walking out of the doors and indicating for you to follow. “You didn’t forget that you told me your whole ‘why who I steal from makes me morally right’ rant, right?” Spider-man shouts from the doorway. “At least let me put this stuff away!” You mumble to yourself when you notice how fast his pace was.

"Also, how do you know my college???" You shout questioningly. He didn't respond.

Rushing, you hastily put away the cleaning supplies and proceed to lock up all spaces that weren’t already. When you were finally leaving through the front door, Spider-man had his lenses narrowed at your now jacket clad form, your bandana replaced for ear warmers. He had as judgemental of a face you could have when you wore a mask, following your footsteps with his head.

You turn to his now impatient tapping foot to say “Well sorry spidey,or should I say Mr.I-have-enough-free-time-to-cosplay-as-a-spider-and-fight-poor-people.”

Spider-Man responds quickly “ I'm not going to comment on that- is it okay if I just grab ya and we goooo, or do you have a fear of heights I should know about?” He blurts while leaning on the nearby light post.

“Yea I guess. Although I’ve never swung around enough to know if I’m afraid of it” you say now slowly walking over to him and putting the keys into your small purse. Once by his side, he offers a hand and when you take it, he wraps his arm around your waist. Your chest pressed to his he says “I know it’s a bit awkward, but it’s a whole lot safer. Especially for the first time.” You quickly stop his movements when you say “wait. I need to,” your sentence falls off as you pull one of your arms out of your jacket, slip your purse onto your bare arm, and then pull back up the jacket. “Extra stable.” You say bluntly at his curious look. When he shoots a web out, you can feel the tension of his arm against your back before you are both lifted off the ground. You scream at the unexpected lift, cursing like a sailor.

You clung for dear life at the foreign feeling of the constant free fall. Wringing your arms across his neck, you lift your legs to find solace wrapped across his lower back. In any other situation, you’d find it challenging to accept this position you were in as anything other than awkward, but being flung through the air was a pretty good reason to be clinging onto another person. As you pressed the top of your head to your shoulder, you made a big mistake, staring at the small gap between your body and his torso. You squeaked out curses as you watched the passing city beneath you, your gut left at the pizza shop.

“You’ll get used to it!” You heard him yell over the rush of wind, and you yelled back a struggled “I don’t want to be doing this long enough to get used to it!!” In result feeling a slight chuckle reverberate through his chest. You couldn't move yourself, or spit out anything else for the rest of your little trip, only keening against his suit with shut eyes. The world around you blurred, a whirlwind of colors and motion as you gripped tighter, your fingers digging into the fabric of his suit. Every drop, every wide turn made your stomach flip, the sensation of freefalling and soaring all at once. His breath was steady, his chaos was routine for him after all, but you were caught between panic and adrenaline. You could hear your pulse in your ears, louder than the wind. After a few gut more dropping moments you suddenly find yourself on solid ground. The only way of which you knew was from Spider-Man saying “you can get down now.” with a bluntness you’d rarely heard from him before. With a meek response of ‘oh’ you slipped a leg from behind him to the floor with an obvious fear of the floor not actually being there. Once both legs were solidly on the ground you push off of Spider-Man now using your grip on his shoulders as leverage. The gravel serving as flooring on the roof not helping your sense of stability.

With arms and legs thoroughly removed from him, he speaks. “You done?” With a smile in his voice and a sarcasm you were starting to hate. “Yes. Now where are we….?” You say with confusion clear on your face, glancing around at your mainly unfamiliar surroundings.

“I'm not much of a traveler,” you mumble as you examine the fancy and bougee buildings surrounding the rooftop you were on. College and your “job” did not allow for much free time, much less sightseeing.

You don’t think it would take more than two hands to count how many times you’ve been to this part of New York, but if you had the money, god if you had money, you’d live here with this, the, skyline as soon as you could. Before you could get too caught up in the towering buildings around you, the sound of his voice lured you to the vigilantes side once again.

“We’re in Hudson Yards right above a ‘alleged’ board meeting, gala thingie” The masked hero spoke, making air quotes with his hands. “ However, I think there’s a member of Hammerhead's little gang here. Here to concoct some drug dealing business.” He states as he leans over a railing on the roof, looking at the supposed gala. “Which we can’t let happen” He murmurs, still looking at the glittering lights of the grounds below him.

You lean over the railing, mimicking the person beside you, and start to stare at the gala, spacing out a bit until spider man's voice rang out beside you. “Sooo, do you recognize…. Them?” His gloved hand points to a woman with light brown hair dripping in jewels and dressed in a dark green dress. Their face was obscured by the angle you were on the roof, but her perfectly styled hair tugged a faint memory into your mind.

“ I’ve seen her on campus, and she does seem the type I’d steal from.” You said, shuffling around, trying to see her face.

“You don’t remember her name, anything about her?” He asks, turning his head towards you, one animated lens eyebrow raised. “No ‘ I'm the daughter of a crime syndicate leader who's planning a huge deal soon, That's definitely gonna have a shootout’ traits in your memory?”. He continues, walking slightly away from the ledge to talk with his hands.

“No. But she always wore designer shit, so anyone knew she had money. Dirty or not.” You respond, a smile in your voice at his joke.

“Well I guess this is turning into a stakeout, and I think it's going to take past 12, sorry, wanna call your pumpkin?” He says while coming back to the ledge, placing his elbows on the brick and leaning forward once again. You roll your eyes, ‘credits for keeping the joke running’ you mumble to yourself. “ Are you going to keep me captive until all this is over or can I go home now?” you speak aloud, pushing yourself off the ledge with your palms, noting that the time on your phone read 9PM.

“O-oh of course! I wasn't going to drag you along-” before he can finish his mumbling, a clear gunshot pierces through the murmur of the gala and your conversation. The supposed shootout had started. You both recoil at the shot, in your own unique ways. You stepped away slightly from the noise, and he only flinched ever so slightly. Screaming erupting from the less seasoned mafia members down below.

As soon as the first shot was had, Spider-man was nearly throwing himself over the ledge to see any damage done. At the sight that everyone was safe, Spider-Man looked over his shoulder and shouted above the shocked voices down below, “Bullets fly high, get behind the stair tower, and stay hidden until I say so!! Got it!?” You dumbly nodded before running behind the rusted stair tower at the top of the building, staying hidden like he just said.

You sank to the floor with your heartbeat already in your ear, God, you weren't cut out for things like this. Feeling the gravel dig into your ass uncomfortably, you wonder how he can put up with this. Or the probably worse situations you know you couldn't.

Obviously from your vantage point of facing the ship bay, you couldn't see what he was doing down at the ground, but you could still hear his witty remarks through the gunfire beneath you. It felt like an eternity of checking your phone to see only a minute had passed, your nervousness spiking from the situation. You trusted him to take care of the situation, but you could still feel the nagging sensation of worry. Each passing moment is a reminder of the overwhelming uncertainty.

After what felt like again, quite a while, you heard him scaling the building wall, and struggling to throw himself back over the ledge. You felt your heartbeat quicken, and you wriggled a bit in your sitting position, but you stayed behind the stair tower as he told you to do earlier.

“You can uh, come out now.” The now familiar voice of Spider-Man mumbles with a weak voice. The gravel beneath his feet crunching with whatever movement he was doing. You had already scooted yourself close to the edge of the stair tower, and were now quickly getting up to stare at the disheveled Spiderman. His suit was near spotless except for two bloody circular rips in it. From the size of the gash you could only assume a very weak double barrel shotgun had hit him, but hadn't gone through. The bigger of the shallow, mangled, wound was right above his left hip, the other just below the center of his ribs. You felt and heard stuttered mumbles slip from your mouth at the sight of the hero so many looked up to as unstoppable, bruised and battered in ways so unexpected from him.

The second hand anxiety ran through your body and you blurted out “S-Shop.” And only after you realized you had only said one word, you uttered the rest of your thought. “Affamata keeps a First-Aid-Kit that could, Help. You.” Standing up to your full height with your hands cautiously in front of your waist, you approach him slowly. “M Not gonna blow up, already blew- blown up. Guh, down there.” Spidermans slurs, and sighs deeply before continuing with a sharp inhale, now with a hand over the bloody spot near his hip. “Not a usual drug deal.It was drugs though!.. Fuckin Drugs they were.” Your concern spiked at his messy speech, now rushing over to take an arm of his over your shoulders, letting him lean his whole weight on you.

At the addition of him fully leaning on you, you let out a surprised huff, saying, “I really don't trust you to swing right now, uh. Stairs.” Hobbling towards the stair tower, Spider-Man continued rattling on about the fight he just was thrown around in. The only clear information spilling from him was that Hammerhead had hired scientists to make bullets that could target Spider-Mans spider genes, and the gala was to spread these poisoned bullets to all crime syndicates who've had an altercation with the pest. Some guy got mad, yada yada, prototype bullets got used.

If getting him to the stairs was hard, getting him down the stairs was near impossible. Shifting his weight from side to side to walk was a task, getting him to shift to the side and down… you might've dropped him a couple times. Thankfully that didn’t seem to affect him to bad. Though once you pushed through the condo building doors, into the brisk air, he seemed to have gone into an airplane mode of sorts, silently limping in step with you.

Looking at the street signs and pulling out your phone, you find that you're on the corner of 11th Ave and West 24th Street. Unfortunately 7 blocks away from the nearest train station that would take you to Affamata. You wearily turn to the injured hero next to you to stare at him worriedly.

“ I'm sorry that the first time we're, working? together, I'm like… this. I swear, if it was a normal shootout I would've been fine n dandy.” Spider-Man sputtered beside you. “ I think ‘m taking poison damage” He whispers before his head falls forward towards the floor, his body following suit.

You do your best to catch him, and once you fight him back into a standing position, balance him on your shoulder again, you then proceed to struggle through the 7 blocks to the train. You watch the streetlights pass and listen to the fading sirens behind you both, feel the pain in your side from your lack of weight training, and try not to give up, watching the estimated 12 minute walk stretch into 37 minutes. You also notice how eerily empty the streets were, especially for New York, normally a shootout wouldn’t be an evacuation notice. Once you reach the brightly lit escalators of the station, you sigh a breath of relief and lean onto the metal railing, finally having a break and trying not to think of how steep and and possibly dangerous the escalator was. specifically for the near unconscious man next to you.

You could feel his shallow breaths against your shoulder, and you thought of how if he was anyone else, he would've died. It took quite a bit to maim spiderman, but to reduce him to a near bloody pulp? It was hard to think about. Instead you think of how if he moved too much, he could be sent flying down the stairs, which might kill him. It would definitely kill you. you wonder if anyone has died on these steps. You've heard of an accident or two, but a subway ghost is a whole other thing. And now you think you need to stop thinking before you freak yourself out more.

Seeing the end of the escalator, you wrap an arm behind his back and shift his weight forward a bit. “I'm gonna need you to step over the thingie at the end that will probably eat your sock shoes if you don't.” you mumble to him, tapping his leg to reinforce your point. He was conscious enough to lift one of his feet off the moving step. “ I'll push you when. “You say, and following through, once the step melts into the final few flat steps, you shift behind him and you push him once he hits the yellow line, landing on his other leg before his body starts to lurch once again.

“No! Sto-p. Fucking 200 pound asshole making me carry him!” You whisper scream into the basically abandoned station, scrambling to catch him. It looks like the cops had evacuated people, probably to a safer area, since the fight wasn't restrained to the address of the gala. If people even were evacuated. Coming up to the card scanning metal gates, you shudder, you don’t assume Spider-Man would keep a metro card, so you do the unfortunate next best thing.

You gently sink to the floor, laying the hero on the ground ‘he’d probably been in dirtier places’, you think as you drag him towards the metal gate. Then get behind him to half cram him into the gate, head already through. Using your tired arms, you lift and fling yourself over the gate, good old train fare evading. Now on the other side of the gate, all you had to do now was drag Spider-Man through the bottom area of the gate.

You got on your knees and reached for the fabric of his shoulders. You prayed for the strength of the said suit, then bunched the fabric into your hand before tugging him towards you. You had already made sure his shoulders were squished between the gate, so it wasn’t the gate on either side of him stunting your progress. It was his weight. You were constantly reminded of your weakness when trying to handle the drowsy man. But pushing through the ache in your back and arms, you pull him, leaning back in your squatting position. Thankfully throwing your weight back like you did was successful to pull the rest of the vigilante through the gate. You were gonna have a lot of fun explaining this to him later, if you even were going to.

You saw him blinking, struggling to stay awake as if slipping into a strange, heavy sleep. He barely acknowledged his surroundings, not even addressing him laying on the nasty subway floor, “We're taking the 7 train to Hunters Point, okay?” you say loudly, hopefully breaking through the haze he was in. You were still dragging him on the floor, not ready to get him standing again. You then pushed him up onto a nearby bench, sitting down next to him. “You're heavier than you look, spidey.”You mumble, looking at him sideways. You only got a garbled mumble as a response followed by a sleepy sigh as he flung his body towards yours to lay his head on his shoulder.

“Spidey bullets, making me weird. I- think I'm gonna black out, sorry, jus for a bit. I’ll wake up again.” He says while wrapping an arm around your bicep, similarly to your little cousins when they were feeling tired after a long night out of your shit babysitting, his lenses blinking slowly. “Please don't…. And he’s out” you say when you feel him slump even more into your side. You just then realize you should’ve been talking to him to try to keep him awake, but it obviously too late for that. Your mind wanders to how you're going to get him back up, into the subway, out of the subway, up the subway stairs of the next station, and into the pizzeria, just as a train rolls into the station.

Deadlifting him to an upright position, you wrench both of you into the closest train car, and when you finally sat him down the speakers above you crackled to life. “Uh, this was a check to make sure everyone was out of the area, but uh, I can only take you as far as Queensboro. Also… I- I love you spiderman, you’re like my biggest inspiration man, you look rough as fuck but godspeed, brother.”

You hear the vigilante rouse to let out a small laugh, but it soon turns into a sick fit of coughing. When you sit back down next to him, he is lifting his mask to the top of his nose and stuffily saying “This mask is supposed to be extra breathable thanks to engineering stuff, but O-” Spider-Man lets out a loud sneeze into his elbow and you unzip your jacket and reach in your purse for the tissues you kept.

“Here” you say faintly, placing it into his free hand. His response is muffled beyond recognition from his elbow, but you don’t worry about it, ready to relax until you cant anymore. The driver comes over the speakers to tell you to bang on the wall when your two stops from your stop, Hunters Point, reasoning that he had orders not to let anyone on the train but made an exception for the two of you. That tech could prove you were there if you were to do anything else. Spider-Man passed out again at some point, but everything else was just a quiet metro ride.

When you notice the Grand Central station pass, you start banging on the wall trying to be quiet but see Spider-Man stir in his sleep. His form shakes slightly from the rusty movement of the car doors opening up to Hunters Point, and you step in front of Spider-Man to grab him from under his armpits and hopefully lift him up. Hoisting him up, he automatically falls forward onto you, and you stick a leg behind you to balance yourself. “All subways were temporarily closed, so you gotta figure out getting out of the station,” the driver says. You think how weird it was for the subways to close but you were still thankful.

Halfway down the escalator, Spider-Man wakes up with a start “whe- where are we?” he says with a slight shake in his voice.

“Queens, Hunters Point, we're going to affamata so I can patch you up more.” you say to him calmly, silently hoping he’s conscious enough to start carrying his own weight. He was conscious enough to step over the escalator ending again as you told him, but then fell right back into his drunken, sleepy, airplane mode of stumbling around, clinging to you.

Just as the driver said, once you both reached the bottom, you saw tall metal fencing surround the exit and entrance. You stressed for a bit, approaching the fence without a clue about what to do, then deciding to kick down the fence with a startlingly loud crash. Passersby on the street looked at you both, stunned, and with their phone already out for the Bugles' new headlines. “Back streets it is.” You mumbled to yourself. There wasn’t going to be nobody in the alleyways, but there would still be less people to ogle at you covered in Spider-Man’s blood.

It was just your luck that there weren't many alleys away from the public’s eyes, but you still got to the back door of Affamata, fumbled with the keys for a bit, and are now unlocking the door. Once inside, you struggled under Spider-Man’s weight as you guided him to the tile wall, sitting him down, feet away from the kitchen doors. Then speed walk through the kitchen to the employee break room, snatching the white and red first aid kit off the wall.

Now standing in front of Spider-Man, you realize that you are one of, if not the least, qualified person to stitch someone up. Still, you crouch in front of him, and remove his hands to examine the wounds. You see a gnarly beginning of his self healing dna protecting him from infection. you then grab the folded up paper inside the first aid kit, it had remedies for different ailments and injuries, only a small paragraph on large wounds. You place it next to your side, all space forward taken up by the hero’s crossed legs.

When trying to read said paragraph, you found the words muddled and confusing, the medical lingo like an alien language on your tongue. You wearily turn your head to the blue and red mass in front of you, who was now showing signs of bleary consciousness. His mask was still past his mouth, so you see when he starts to bite the inside of his cheek, a way of waking himself up, you presume.

“I- The most I think i can do is disinfect it” You stutter, hoping that he can see the look of utter helplessness plastered on your face. “Do that” He mumbles, head lolling to the side, evident he was fighting to be awake. You pause the idea of disinfecting his injuries, to grab the small tub of vaporub crammed into the kit. Smelling salts are said to wake the dead, so vaporub should wake him. Unscrewing the lid, you quickly bring it to his nose.

At the sudden smell, Spider-Man flinches before pushing your hand away, saying “Gawd, I'm awake now! whew..Thanks I guess.” You frown slightly at your stupidity. The glass jar clinks against the whateverthefuck floor tiling, and you turn back to the First-Aid-Kit to hopefully find something to help Spider-Man.

Your search turns up fruitless, only bandages and stitching materials in your hands. You sharply sign, there was hand soap in the bathrooms, that could help someright? Following your train of thought, you stand up quickly and retrieve the unscented cheap-ass hand soap from the employee bathroom. On your way back, you grab a small towel and fill a medium bowl with warm water. Sitting back down, ready to gently wash around the wound with just water, not ready to wash the wound with the possibly dangerous hand soap.

His suit had frayed around each lesion, leaving your work cut out for you. Basically. You dampen the towel with the water, choosing to wash away debris first, and get to work wiping away the grease of the night. Once he looks cleaner than before, you make the water soapy, and clean around his wound once again.

“ Are you gonna keep beating around the bush, or actually help me?” Spider-Man's voice is strained but insistent from his slumped position. “ Hey, I'm like the worst person to do this, and berating me isn't gonna help. Me or you!” you say softly, your eyebrows laced together. “Don't worry, I'll help you help me. First get an actual disinfectant.” He responds, placing a hand on your wrist. You stare at him expectantly for the other part of his sentence. “ Disinfectant- what!?” You say once a few seconds of weird silence passes. A cheeky smile crosses his face before he says “Vodka”

Your face falls a bit, were the movies actually right? Your question was quickly answered when a small laugh came from the man. “ Just joking! Can you give me the water please” He holds his hands out expectantly. As he said, you give him the bowl of now lukewarm water, and watch as he pours it down his chest and two injuries. You wanted to take the water away from him, instead and watched as he grabbed the towel you placed on his thigh to dry himself off.

“Clean water is really the best bet for a disinfectant if you're not in a hospital.” You hear him say crisply, then sniffles before continuing. “ Now… I need an ointment, is there a uh bottle of neosporin in there?” He asks, looking up from the blotting of his damp suit. You nod quietly, grabbing the yellow tube and handing it to him, feeling like a student doctor handing the instruments to the head surgeon.

You watch as he starts to apply the neosporin on the edges of the wound, where his body had already formed some scabbing. The wound was too large for it to be spread to the middle, but you could see it already starting to heal. Once he finished with the neosporin, he then started to reach for the thick roll of gauze in the case, before retracting in pain. You quickly hand it to him as a response, hearing him mumble a quick ‘thank you’ before starting to wrap his torso in it.

Surreal was the only way you could describe how you felt, sitting there, watching the stranger that everybody knew, patch and sew himself back together. It was like watching the strongest person in your life start to sob. Such an unusual and rare event of seeing a hero, an idol, as a human. A human who bleeds. When he finishes with the gauze, he hands it back to you, and you return everything to the dull metal box. You'd probably have a weird conversation with the owner about all this, if you brought it up. But Spider-Man saved Carlisle money, a man you discovered was a real cheapass, and this was easily a favor returned.

You stare at him for a moment once again before standing, and slowly walking to return the kit. It felt like an autopilot switch had flicked on, you were floating while doing your tasks, your mind far far off. Your mind still lingered at the rooftop, seeing him like that for the first time. Truly seeing him.

As if you just woken up from REM sleep, you were returned to Affamata, and were now standing With Spider-Man. You couldn't tell that he was taller than you from your trek to the pizzeria, but now that his back was straight, you got to take in his full height. You really weren't paying attention back on that rooftop.

He sniffles, once again pulling you from your alarmingly frequent inner thought bubbles. “I guess this is good-bye for tonight?” He says, his hands now on his hips. “Let me walk you to the parking lot? In the back of course.” you respond, eyes glued to the floor. You hear an agreeing huff from him, before he turns and starts to head from where you both came. You follow. “Such a gentleman, walking me out” he says down the hall.

You turn to glance over the shop for things out of place, before turning back around to meet the person waiting for you in the parking lot. The Pizzeria had an eerie, morning after a sleepover sense of calm inside. Lights from outside streaming in the windows, painting the place in pale yellow and blue hues.. Nothing out of place, back to the problem at hand.

“Y’Know joes, is like 10 times better.” the Vigilante says, referring to a nearby ma and pa pizza shop a few blocks away, kicking a rock across the faded white lines of the parking lot. “Y’know. I don't work here. I'm an indentured servant, thanks to yours truly," you say, twirling your hand toward him, then bowing into a deep curtsy. Standing backup in the same overdone sense. “Sorry not sorry tuts. Thievery is a pretty bad offense.” He speaks softly. “To who? The only people who care about robbings are the ones getting robbed. Oh… and you!” You respond, your words also soft from the now overwhelming sleepiness hanging over you.

“Gooood nighttttt- little miss can't-admit-i've-done-something-wrong!!!!!!” Spider-Man sings songs as he shoots a web into the blurry night, jogging backwards, a whisper of a limp in his stride still present. “Let the bedbugs bite!” you whisper with a small wave, watching him disappear.

You let out a sapped sigh, before turning around on your heels and walking to the alley with a profound heaviness off your back, and an even more profound ache in your legs and arms. You were finally getting home, at a reasonable 2:06.

Shuffling to your crowded dorm, you nearly whine at the sound of your most recent roommate, Thera, loudly talking to someone. Most likely on the phone. She was prone to loud fits of laughter and had no attention to give to someone asking her to be quiet. She had told you once that asking her to be quiet “proves that people out there will constantly try to dull your shine.”

As if you weren't already sleep deprived, you prepared yourself for another all nighter, you didn't really feel like sleeping. Walking through the hallway to the mini kitchen and grabbing a glass of water, and then going off to your curtained separated bed and drawers. That was how your loft-style dorm left you to organize your 4, and couch surfing 5th, roommates. Some days it felt like a hospital room, each patient curtained off lazily, and other days, when no else was around… the faded fabric of the second-hand curtains flowing in the spring winds from the open windows, the smell of rain, the silence. The New York silence. Like home.

You don't remember falling asleep, you surely didn’t plan too, but when your head hit the pillow you were out. Your eyes crack open to loud thunder. What time was it? Your bed was in the corner and next to a window, giving a clear view of the dark, clouded, teal rainstorm outside. You only turned your head a smidge, the rest of you still. Staring at the enchanting patter of rain, you realized that any feeling of sleepiness had left. You were awake.

Tearing your eyes away from the window, you start to inspect the ever familiar cracks in the ceiling. The paint chipping and peeling. An unusual feeling starts to settle weightily on your chest. It reminded you of the feeling of hunger when you lay down. It gnaws at your stomach in a sinking way, until it feels that if you look down, a cavern will have replaced your stomach and internal organs.

You try to identify the feeling, but when you can't, you settle for listening to the whir of the AC and wonder how long until your apartment building will collapse, like the many others had on your street.

next chapter

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #slowburn #spiderman x you #peter parker x y/n #spiderman

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