#meanwhile i’m trying not to chuck my guts up from the stench

[selfconsumerofmywoes]

i got my period and now the whole world smells sooo fucking bad

[myfeetkeepdancing]

Polaroid  | Peter Parker x Male!Reader

Pairing: Peter Parker x Male!Reader

Warning: Cuteness

Word count: 3189

His Spider-Man duty had called earlier that day. Peter assured he'd be back soon. Easily enough you dozed off while waiting for Peter to come home. That wasn't particularly difficult, ever since Peter trusted you with his secret. You've been at the ready, taking care of him. Whenever. Wherever. He healed faster than a normal human being, but that didn't mean his wounds needed tending afterward. And all the while Peter was being the hero you simply managed to doze off in that lovely afternoon sun shining through the window. You dart back up from the desk as soon as you feel the touch of a hand on your shoulder. With the page of a comic book stuck to your cheek, you jump back up from the desk. "(Y/N)?" Peter groaned standing beside you, bare chest and one hand clenched to his side. "C-Can… you h-help?" Through your sleepy eyes, you look on as Peter limps back to the bathroom. Your eyes catch sight of the red-stained gauge pressed against his side. Approaching the door, you feel the damp and moist air rolling over you. Indicating that the shower must have run for quite a while. Peter stood there, hunched over the sink. Pressing the gauge into his side. His curly hair cast down his face.

The blood now awakening you from your daydream. The sink beside him, as well as the tub, had watered down blood running down. The whole scene more or less like a crime scene after the murderer tried to cover up his act. "Sit down…" You command him. Trying to let the calmness sound through your voice. Peter took place on the edge of the tub. His back covered in bruises and small cuts. Dried blood sticking to his skin. Wrapping one hand in the washcloth from the sink and with some running hot water. You slowly start washing his back. You can't help but let your eyes run across his muscled body. Those broad shoulders and muscular arms. Your hand runs over the muscles on his back where the dried blood stuck to his skin. Peter felt a bit nervous at first. You could feel it in his muscles, all tensed up. Rapid breathing. But admittedly, you were in the same boat.

 You could feel the muscles in Peter's back relax at the second wipe. You hear him release a couple slow sighs as he releases the tension in his shoulders, as they slowly lower. Inspecting cuts and bruises across this back. Ending up at the gauze. Running your fingers between his, taking over the gauze. As you hear him groan a little as you remove the gauze from the wound. Some tissue still stuck to the gauze. On his side ran a reasonable cut of around two inches running sideways. Putting his finger beside, if it wasn’t clear already.

 “Something is… stinging… in there. I dunno know…" Peter's voice was ragged. His breathing hampered, groaning at every movement he made. You weren't a doctor, but at first sight, the wound didn't look deep. The cuts weren't serious, nor were the bruises. You have seen worse in the last months. But the wound kept bleeding, drips of blood ran along the cut trailing down his back. As you push the new gauze against the cut. "Looks like it hurts... How long has thi-…” You feel the air crop up in your throat. Your eyes spot the hole in his flesh. Unable to finish your sentence… Your stomach turns upside down as the cluttered blood and tissue poor down this back. Something pierced right through his flesh. As you press the gauze against the cut, again blood poured out from the gaping hole. Peter’s words wake you from your frightened gaze. “I… guess an hour or so. Felt a sharp sting. Came home and saw all the blood. Tried to stop the bleeding but couldn’t.”

 "Y-You should go to a hospital." You feel your stomach acting up. The sight of so much blood almost made you throw up your guts. Releasing a small burp in the process. You could smell the stench in your breath. This wasn't your thing.

 “What?! You know I can’t!” Peter panics.

 “Peter… I-I… I-” You stammer. “-think y-you got hit by a b-bullet…”

 “No-No-No-No! You have to get it out! If I go to the hospital, May will found out. And she will freak out and…" Peter's rambling falls against deaf ears as try to focus on the bullet wound. You can feel the lights headedness creep into you. As your hands feel disconnected from your brain. Your legs turning to jelly and your fingers trembling slightly as you take the pincers from the first aid. "I-I will t-try…" This wasn't anything like the movies. Pulling it straight out like some sort of child's game. Then it hit you.

 Booze. You stumble back onto your legs as you recall where May left her booze. Peter just looks at you with questionable eyes as you run off to the cabinets in the living room. Returning with a brown liquorish bottle. With a pop, you open up the bottle. The strong scent of alcohol teasing your nostrils. "Take a swig." Holding the bottle up to Peter.

 “We shouldn’t! We’re only-“ Peter protested. But instead, the stinging pain in his side makes him stop yammering. Peter was right. You were too young to drink.  

 “It’s gonna hurt. Bad… Really bad." You take a small nip from the bottle. The liquor burned its way down your throat. The high percentage of alcohol sending a shiver down your body. Deep down, you feel your stomach protesting. On the plus side, you could feel your nerves calming down bit by bit.

 “We’re doing it my way, or we’ll go to the hospital.” Holding it up to Peter. Silence falls in-between you as Peter overthinks the situation. Eventually grabbing the bottle and taking a large swig. He gags and hunches forward, his body shivering all over. “Gaaah… Tastes horrible.” The regret painting across his face.

 "I'm sorry for what comes next…" You apologies with a heavy heart. You've seen it in the movies. But nothing comes close to the real deal. You pour the liquor down the wound. Cleaning it bit by bit. Peter's body quivering and shaking in the process. Surprisingly your hands shacked less than before. You steady yourself against the side of the tub. With the small torch clenched between your teeth, you work the pincers into the flesh. You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you poke the pincers further in. You had no clue how far the piece of metal worked itself in. That awful feeling crept up in you. You guts twisted and turned at the sight of blood and torn tissue. The sides of your cheeks filling with saliva. You breathing turning rapid and shallow. A small metal glitter appeared through the red cluster of blood and tissue. "Sit tight." Your voice skips a little as the nerves get the better of your body once again. You try to swallow the saliva away. You try to postpone the enviable.

 The pincers hardly hold onto the metal splinter as you try to get a hold onto it. Your sweaty fingers slipping more and more in the gloves. Almost letting go of the pincers as you try to wiggle it free. You feel another burp coming up. You turn away momentarily as you feel it coming up again. Your throat felt like it was on fire.  Peter groaned more and more as the metal splinter moved through the tissue. “Got it.” You try to assure him. Slowly pulling the splinter out.

 A small ping sounded through the bathroom as the splinter hit the sink. You quickly take the thread and needle from the first aid. But the needle keeps slipping from your trembling fingers. Blood on the gloves not helping one bit. What a grueling business. You shouldn't be doing any of this stuff on this age. You shouldn't need to remove bullets from somebody's flesh. This was far from ordinary. Stitching him up as quickly as you can. Every time you push the needle through his skin, you hear Peter hiss for a second. It looked like shit. No denying on that. The stitching all crisscrossed. But it did the job. You finish it off with a fresh bandage. The second you push the bandage onto the wound. You push past Peter, towards the toilet bowl. Crouched on your knees and hunched forward you stick your head into the bowl. You push the entire contents of your stomach and intestines out. No holding back. The grueling stench filling the bathroom. Wave after wave splatter through the bowl. You try flushing the toilet with one hand but are met with another hand. Peter stumbling towards you.

 “Heeeeey-Hey… that's the… eh…" With watery eyes, you glance at Peter. His eyes half-closed and a cheeky smile on his face. Pointing a finger into the toilet bowl. "sand-…wich you ate earlier!” He giggles to himself. “Heh… Smells kinda funny.” You’d never seen Peter react to alcohol. You also were at an age you shouldn’t be drinking anyway. But this was new. And the alcohol definitely hit his system now. “I… feel funny…” Looking at his fingers.

 Rinsing the foul taste with mouth water, you take Peter and help him back into his room. His legs barely holding his own weight. “Let's get you to your bed.”

 Peter just sat there, hunched against the wall on the lower level of his bunk bed, munching and licking his lips. His half-open eyes looking around the room. "My mouth tasted weird." He mumbles on.

 "I'll get you something. Stay here." From the kitchen, you grab a glass of water. Occasionally peaking back into the room to make sure Peter didn't do anything stupid. You wouldn't be surprised if he just wandered off onto the fire exit near his window. You quickly throw in a powdered aspirin. Taking one yourself as well.

 “Yay! There's my best buddy again.” Throwing his arms up in the air. His legs struggling to get the sweatpants on.

 "Here, drink this." With both hands, he clamps onto the glass of water. Chucking it down in a matter of seconds. Meanwhile, you help him get into his sweatpants. "Psst…” Peter leans forward, almost falling over. His face close to yours. “Don’t tell Peter we’re best buddies.”  

 “But-...” You have trouble keeping your laughter contained. “-but who am I talking to now?”

 “Spider-Man!” Peter shoots at you. “Sshht...! Don’t tell anybody!” Raising a finger to his lips.

 "Right... Okay." You try controlling your laughter as you pull Peter back against the wall. Afraid he'd otherwise fall over from the bed. Instead, his intoxicated body just slides down onto the sheets. You can't help but laugh at his behavior. Peter laying there mumbling things to himself. His fingers playing with the edges of his shirt. "I'll be in the bathroom for a moment. Call me when you need anything." Peter only responded with a small nod. His eyes fixated at the top mattress of the bunk bed.

 With the sponge, you scrub away the many stains and trails of blood covering the bathtub, sink, and floor. The towels, washcloths and other bloodied rags went straight into the washing machine for a spin. Hoping May would be home late from work. For dinner, you had to go online for a moment to check what to eat best after a hangover. At least that's what you thought Peter was going to have rather sooner than later. You'd just order something online. But you weren't sure what to order. You can't leave the house. Not with Peter like this. After searching for some local restaurants online and taking advice from the internet, you'd order something healthy. For now, it would be best to keep an eye on Peter before the food gets here.

 You crawl onto the bed, legs crossed and resting your head against the wall as you ‘look’ over Peter. He barely noticed you climbing over you. Your eyelids slowly becoming heavier. You notice the shift in the mattress. You see him crawling closer to you, snapping you out your daydream.

 “Can you make my bed stop… like… moving?” Pressing his finger repeatedly into your cheek.

 “I-I… don’t know…

“I just... feel like… like… A ship just... floating on the sea.”

“W-... What?”

“Makes my tummy hurt…”

“I’ll get someth-“ With the intention of grabbing a bucket, just in case. And maybe some aspirin. You try moving from the bed. But halfway on the mattress, you feel Peter’s arm slide around your back. His fingers gripping tight onto your shirt. Before you can react, let alone shoot a glance his way. A strong pull launches you back flat onto the mattress.

“Lemme hold onto you.” He mutters calmly. Snuggling close to you. Intertwining his legs with yours. Holding onto you tight. As he cradles his head onto your chest. “This is good…” He sighs dreamily.

    That moment was burnt into your memory forever. You can’t help but smile over the polaroid picture. May took it after she came home. Finding both of you fallen asleep. Peter curled up against your chest. Your arms wrapped around him. Underneath the picture was Peter’s handwriting, after all this time barely recognizable, saying: My hero.

That day had changed things in your friendship with Peter. Like a barrier was torn down. Something had shifted. You felt it. You became closer. Shared time together more and more. You had already fallen in love with Peter a long time ago. You didn’t know it back then. You liked him, and Peter liked you. He even said it once. Cheeks colored red and shaking hands. Those butterflies swarming. They tickled. But over the last months, things became more serious. The butterflies began to hurt. In a good way. Back then, you could recall every moment when Peter was close to you. When he touched your leg. Or lay his hand on your shoulder. Rarely a hug. It was something to dream about back then. Now you couldn’t recall a day without physical contact with him. A morning hug at the locker was routine. Surprise hugs from behind during lunch. Hugs at the bus. You couldn’t stop. Neither did he. You didn’t want it to stop.

Your heart skips a beat as the door opens in front of you. You put the shabby looking polaroid back into your jacket. It remained there for months. Close to you. The edges curled up, rough borders, the colors began to fade more and more. Trying to dry the thing time and time again after you got it soaking wet, didn’t help either. You had run the sentences a thousand times through your head. Trained in front of the mirror a dozen times. But the nerves couldn't be contained. Front behind the door, May appeared. “(Y/N)!” Her emotions ran from happiness seeing you, to surprise, into content. She understood why you were here. You could tell from the caring look she gave you.

"Pete! Someone's at the door for you!" She yells across the room. Nodding at you, and giving a wink. Before returning into the living room. "Coming!"

The apartment wasn't anything but large. A small living room with a kitchen. Directly adjacent to it was Peter's bedroom. Just a few meters away. But the footsteps coming from the other side of the apartment seemed like to take forever getting here. Your knuckles turning white as the grip on the flowers stalks increase. Feeling them break one by one. The sweat pouring from underneath your armpits.

“Hey (Y/N)-“ Peter excitingly speaks out before cutting out, as he realizes what’s happening. His eyes wide open, frozen to the spot. You try to swallow the lump in your throat. As you try to remember the words you were going to say. With trembling hands, you try handing over the flowers.

“I-… I…” You stammer. “W-wou…” Nothing more follows. As the flower hang defeated from your hand. Every stalk crushed by your grip. The wrapping barely holding the flowers together. You feel your heart hammering against your ribcage. Drowning in those innocent looking brown eyes of Peter for a moment.

Peter’s lips move. You could see them moving. But nothing audible came out. “N-n-n...ice." Rolled from his lips with a shaking voice. His hand moving towards the flowers. The brush of his fingers against yours make you jump for a moment. Making Peter hesitant for a second. Awaiting your next movement. The heat in your body rising to immeasurable heights.

“P-Peter…” You avert eye contact as you try to get the words out. Biting and licking your lips in such rapid succession you have difficulty to get the words out. Your eyes dart across everything except Peter. “Willyougooutwithme?" The word spill from your lips so quickly, you weren’t even sure even he heard it. Afraid for his answer. You keep your eyes to the floor. Then it catches your eye. From under your boot sticks out a familiar looking piece of paper. You feel the tears welling in the corner of your eyes. Clenched between your fingers, you bring the picture up. The polaroid was horribly scratched and torn from your nerves tapping and turning on your heel.

“Y-You kept it…?” Peter’s trembling voice wakes you. “A-All this time?”

The picture now damaged beyond repair slips from your fingers as you notice Peter’s tears running down his cheeks. “I carried it everywhere…” Wiping the tears from your eyes with the back of your palm. “It meant everything… to me.”

“Yes...” Peter shoots out. Wiping the tears from his eyes with this sweater. “I love to go out with you.”  

Time stood still. Like everything stopped moving. The nerves in your body turned into pure excitement and happiness. A sense of relief coursed through your body. You had imagined a thousand other ways to do it. But this wasn’t one of them. Either way, smiles appeared across each other’s faces. It all led up to this. And it felt good.

“Kiss him!” May chanted from across the room. Peter looked back for a second. Before taking a step closer. The boy you fell in love a long time ago was just inches away from you. You could feel his nerves hampered breath against your skin. That cheesy smile you loved and dreamed off, now adorned by his soft sweet lips. Which were soon to be pressed against yours. Your bodies draw closer together. The flowers hit the floor as you caress your arms around his neck. His arms pull your body firmly against his. Your mouths reach closer and closer together, as you feel his soft and tender lips press against yours. For only to be interrupted by a white flash of the May’s camera. Followed by May storming past you, waving her new polaroid picture. Only God knows what she’ll be doing with it.

At least you got the apartment to yourself…

As Peter grinned from ear to ear.