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selfcarecap · 2 years

Text

Transparent Soul [p.p]

Pairing: Peter Parker x ghost!reader

Summary: You’ve been a ghost for nearly a year now, but your new friend Peter makes you feel more human than ever before. You fall in love with him hard and fast and you know he has the power to turn you back into a human, but you only have one chance. Is he really the right person?

Warnings: semi-suicidal thought for like ten seconds, a few mentions of depression, post nwh, mentions of death and dead parents and a car crash, but i promise it’s not a sad fic 💀, smut (no ghost smut </3, oral, f masturbation, finger sucking, protected vaginal sex), little bit of angst, this fic’s timeline vs mcu timeline is a bit wonky but we’ll ignore that <3 (—> peter is college age)

Word Count: um. 13k

Happy Halloween!! Finally managed to write a Halloween fic lol, I hope you enjoy ghost!reader <3

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One of the things you hate most about being a ghost is not being able to touch anything. Your hand floats right through whatever you try to touch.

You’d give everything to finally pet the cat that you always hang out with on the fire escape of an apartment building in New York. She’s a black cat with piercing yellow eyes and despite being a stray, her fur looks as soft as anything and you keep each other company around this block of houses, though you prefer the one you’re currently on.

You could call this house your home, but you don‘t live in it. You‘re a ghost,. You have no need for an apartment. You just observe the people who live here, without ever interacting with them.

From experience you know that people don‘t react nicely to a ghost, unlike your cat friend. You’ve decided to call her Lucky, simply because you feel Lucky to have her. She’s the only friend you’ve made since becoming a ghost.

Lucky doesn‘t seem to care that you‘re a ghost, or maybe she doesn‘t even know. She always hangs out with you on this fire escape and stays with you for hours. Sometimes the brown-haired boy in apartment 7A leaves his leftovers out for her. You‘re glad someone‘s taking care of her - not that you‘ve ever seen him pet her. But he leaves food for her anyway.

Lucky has decided to leave you for the night - probably anoyed that you won’t pet her no matter how many times she tries to rub her head against your leg, only to be confused because she can’t actually touch you.

You’re visible, but just barely. A faint picture of the human you used to be, anyone could see you, but they would immediately realise that you’re not human, with your transluscent skin and hair and clothes.

You can choose to make yourself fullly invisible though, and it’s how you spend most of your days. Otherwise you’d only be met with fear and malice.

You make yourself invisible as soon as you see the boy from 7A swinging through the streets. Oh, have you forgot to mention? He’s Spider-Man.

You watch him as he makes sure no one sees him climbing into the window of his apartment. He closes the window behind himself and you look away when he changes into his pyjamas.

He’s barely home, always out late being Spider-Man and leaving early in the morning, you assume for work or college - you’ve seen him studying at his desk. He never has friends over and you wonder if he’s as lonely as you are or if he just meets people somewhere else.

You’ve been wanting to talk to him for a while. You’re hesitant because ever since you’ve been a ghost no human has ever reacted positively to you, but Spider-Man could be different.

He’s Spider-Man. An Avenger. If he’s fought a purple alien with a magic glove, then maybe he won’t be too creeped out by a ghost.

You don‘t want to put all of your trust and hope into him but he‘ll be the first person you talk to in months, so it is a big deal no matter how much you try to convince yourself of the opposite.

You‘ve tried to talk to people before, only to leave them traumatised or calling an exorcist and you had to find a new home again. You like this house. It‘s not in the nicest area but the people who live here are fun to observe and you‘d like to stay here, so you can only hope Spider-Man won‘t make you leave.

The thought of talking to him makes you so nervous though, so you’ll give yourself some time before you do it.

The next day, you’re sitting by the fire escape where you always sit.

It’s dark already and not a lot of people are out during this Thursday winter night, so you’re just sitting (well, floating) with your legs dangling off the railing. You’re not bothering to make yourself invisible - no one would see you here anyway.

You’re looking out for Lucky to come and join you, but she’s not here tonight, so you’re just listening to New York’s noises.

And then everything happens so quickly.

You turn your head and you see Spider-Man. You weren’t expecting him to come home yet and you’re too surprised to remember to make yourself invisible. Before you know it, he lands right next to you and you hear a loud and shocked “Oh” from him.

You make yourself invisible but it’s too late, he’s already seen you, so you become visible again. This is your chance to make a friend.

You don’t have a heart, but if you did it would be hammering against your ribcage at full speed. You don’t know what to say but the good news is he’s still here. He hasn’t told you to leave yet.

He just looks a little scared, with his forearms pulled tight to his chest. You can’t read his expression because he still has his mask on.

“Hi,” is all that comes out of your mouth. You haven’t really used your voice much but it sounds surprisingly normal.

He doesn’t reply. “Are you.. are you Spider-Man?” You ask, even though it’s obvious. But you don’t know what else to say. It’s hard to start a conversation when you don’t know if the other person is about to call an exorcist.

He replies with a shaky voice. “Yeah, I am. And, uh, and you are?”

You tell him your name and he nodds politely, still unsure.

“Yeah. I’m a ghost,” you smile slightly.

He relaxes a little, “Oh, I thought so. I wanted to ask but I didn’t know if it was like, uh offensive.”

You laugh and it feels so unfamiliar, “Well, I’m not offended.”

He smiles at you and you smile back, but you don’t know what to say. You’ve forgotten how to talk to people. You wait for him to say something and your (metaphorical) heart sinks with every second that he remains silent and fidgets with his hands instead. It would help if you could at least see his face.

You decide to just be honest. This conversation isn’t going anywhere else.

“I uh, I‘ve been in this house for a while and usually people um. They don‘t react nicely when they see me, so I mostly keep to myself. But then I saw you and I remembered seeing you on the news with the Avengers so if.. if you‘ve been with them then I assumed a ghost wouldn’t be the craziest thing you‘ve ever seen so uh..”

He hasn’t taken off his mask but you think you can see him smiling. It seems as if your explanation is enough for him to deem you harmless, as if he realised that you’re right, he has seen scarier things. What’s a ghost going to do to him?

“It‘s cold out here, do you wanna come in?” His words surprise you and you don’t remember the last time you smiled as widely as you do when he opens the window to his one-room apartment.

“I don’t have any feeling in my body so I can’t feel the cold but, uh, yeah. Thanks. I’ll come in.”

Maybe he just doesn’t value his life very much and that’s why he’s letting you, a stranger who is also a ghost, in his room. But maybe he just sees you. Maybe he sees that you just don’t want to be alone, and that you’re harmless.

You try not to overthink it too much. Maybe he’s just letting you in his room to try and kill you, but you feel good about him. So good that you almost forget you’re not a normal human with feelings who lives a normal human life.

He lets you in first but you float through the wall instead of ducking down to get through the window like he does behind you.

“Woah,” Spider-Man says, grinning. He looks you up and down, as if he’s just now noticing that you’re floating a few inches above the floor. You sit down to hover over his bed as he closes his window.

“So, are the movies about ghosts quite accurate then?” He turns around to ask you, and casually pulls his mask off - probably out of habit from when he comes home. He freezes for a second and then presses the mask over his face. He quickly turns away from you to slip it over his head again, mumbling something under his breath.

“I uh.. I’ve seen your face before but… it’s your choice of course.”

“Oh,” he says.

“I have no interest in exposing your identity,” you say, “It’s not like anyone would believe a ghost anyway,” you add sadly, looking down when you remember that this is not a normal, human, interaction.

“I don’t have much to do so I just like to people watch and uh, I’ve seen you in here with your mask off, so…” You explain, hoping he’ll trust you. Honesty is all you have.

When you look up, Spider-Man has pulled his mask off and smiles softly at you. You know he has no reason to trust you, doesn’t even owe it to you to talk to you. But he does it anyway, and he stretches his hand out, “I’m Peter, by the way.”

It’s nice to finally have a name for the boy from 7A. You reach for his hand out of instinct before you remember that you can’t take it. “Oh, uh, I can’t,” you say as you pull your hand back.

He stares at you for a second before he seems to understand and pulls his arm back too, “Oh, sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay. I forget it too sometimes.”

Peter looks at you curiously, curiously and nothing else, and you realise then that you forgot how it feels to have someone look at you without fear or hate. But you can tell he’s still getting used to talking to a ghost, so you try to start the conversation.

“The movies are quite accurate.”

“Huh?”

“You asked if the ghost movies are accurate. I think the most obvious things are true. You’re a floating nothing that can go through walls,” you chuckle, trying not to think of how shitty it feels to live your life that way.

He smiles and sits down on the bed with you, “Have you always been a ghost?”

The question makes your nonexistant heart ache and Peter must see it on your face, quickly adding, “You don’t have to talk about it, of course.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You take a deep breath and think for a moment. Then, you tell him your story.

You tell him how you were in a car crash with your family right when Thanos made half of the world’s population disappear. You turned into dust just as you were about to die.

When you came back five years later, your family was dead. You always assumed you were just on the brink of death when Thanos snapped his fingers, and the universe couldn’t decide whether to let you live or not, so now you’re somewhere in between. But sometimes, you’d rather be dead.

Peter has tears in his eyes by the time you’re done speaking. You can tell that he’s speechless, and you’re not expecting him to say anything.

“Wow… I’m so sorry,” is all he says.

“I try to see the positive side of things. At least I got another chance at life, not many people do. It’s not really like this life has been worth living but.. maybe I just haven’t figured out how to be a good ghost yet.”

You decide not to tell him how depressed you’ve really been. You haven’t ever talked about what happened, and this was hard enough to talk about. Although it does feel better, finally getting your story off your chest. You remember that you’re telling all your secrets to a stranger, but you already know his biggest secret too, so it’s fair.

“I know I’m not a ghost, so I’m not saying I understand but… I think I kind of understand.”

He tells you about his dead parents, then his dead aunt. He tells you about parallel universes and losing all of his friends. He tells you how everyone had to forget him.

He keeps saying that he knows how crazy it sounds, but it really happened. You assure him that you don’t doubt a single thing he says. Who are you to decide what really happened and what didn’t, when you’re a literal ghost.

He doesn’t tell you how depressed and lonely he is either, but it’s obvious. You assume it’s also obvious to him how sad you are. Maybe you don’t need to say it - you understand each other wordlessly.

He’s careful to not sound like he’s implying that he fully understands you. He’s not a ghost, so of course he can’t. But at the core, you’re the same. You’re alone and you’re lonely.

Yes, he has the chance to make new friends and you don’t, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re both lonely, both suffering.

He’s choked up by the time he’s done talking and you don’t know he’s managed to not break down sobbing yet.

You’re both quiet for a while after he’s finished talking. You can’t say anything to make it better, so you don’t try. You’re here, and that’s more than he’s had in a while.

“Wow, you could have stopped me there,” Peter smiles awkwardly, “Look at me oversharing. Sorry.”

“You and me both,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, “And it’s okay to cry, by the way. I wish I could.”

“You can’t cry?” He asks, his eyes red and wet, but he’s not crying yet.

“I can’t. I feel things inside, I have feelings and emotions like everyone else. But there’s nothing physical. I don’t eat or sleep or cry. If you touch me I won’t feel it. You won’t either. It’s all just on the inside, and I have the urge to cry sometimes, but I just literally can’t. I’d give everything to cry again. So, please, cry. I can leave if you need time.”

“No no, no,” he wipes his tears away and smiles bashfully at being so eager. He has no idea that you’re even more eager to be spending time together.

You get the feeling he needs the company as much as you do. He just told you how he lost everything. Your situations are so similar it‘s nearly scary. So if you need him, you know he needs you too.

He asks more questions about you being a ghost - more light-hearted ones, and you happily answer them all. The soul-crushing loneliness aside, there are a few cool things about being a ghost.

You can go anywhere you want, without being seen. You don’t have to be scared of men when you’re out late at night, if anything, men would be scared of you. You may or may not have scared some creepy men on purpose before.

There’s one question Peter hasn’t asked yet, but you know he wants to. Instead of making him ask, you just ask him if he wants to touch you. He grins at your offer and you hold out your arm for him to touch it.

His hand goes right through you when he tries to touch you, and he’s as giddy as a child being told they can have some candy. You can tell that he thinks it’s cool.

You like that you’re making Peter smile and laugh and even talking to someone is making you happier than you’ve been in months. But deep down it also makes you sad. You can’t even touch Peter’s hand, let alone hug him, or hold him.

You try to ignore those thoughts though. Being with Peter is still better than all the months you’ve spent alone since you became a ghost.

You know it will make him laugh, so you reach right through his chest, your arm going right through him. And even though there’s still a general sadness within you, Peter is making you so happy right now.

Even though you’re talking about being a ghost, and showing him how not-human you are, even though you’re a floating thing of light that doesn’t feel like it’s there, he makes you feel the most human emotion there is. It’s not love, you’ve only known him a few hours. But you just like him. Maybe you’re just emotionally starved, and you’d like anyone who would give you the time of day, but you can’t feel the difference.

You enjoy spending time with him. You get along well. And it’s making you feel like you could stay with him and talk with him forever. He’s making you feel like you actually have a heart. And your heart is telling you that Peter is a good soul, someone to keep in your life, who deserves all the happiness in the world.

He’s making you feel like a normal person, with normal human emotions. He’s making you forget about all the loss and the loneliness. And it’s all you’ve been asking for since you turned into a ghost.

Being with Peter is wonderful.

You talk through the whole night and it doesn’t even cross your mind that you won’t be able to talk to him forever. He doesn’t realise this either until the sun rises and the streets are bright again.

“Oh my god, it’s so late, well, early,” he looks at his phone, “Shit, I have to go to class like. Right now.”

You watch him pick up a few things and he stuffs them into his bag, sticking his toothbrush in his mouth while he gets ready.

“I uh, I’ll go then,” you call out to him while he’s getting ready. He’s stressed and you don’t want to add to it.

“Wait,” he stops you, “I need to see you again. Uh, I mean, do you want to hang out again later?”

You grin, “Yeah, I’d love to.”

He grins too, unable to look at you, “Okay, where will you be?”

“I’ll be at the fire escape when you come home. Same time as yesterday?”

“Yes. But you can also stay in here, just if you want to.”

“I might. Thanks. Now go and get ready and don’t worry about me.”

He’s gone two minutes later and you’re already looking forward to when he comes back. You go on a walk, the longest route you can think of, to distract yourself.

Peter comes home earlier than he said and seems surprised that you’re there.

“Hi,” you say, getting up from his bed and floating over to him. It’s not like you could hug him hello, but you still want to be close, “How was your day?”

“Hi, it was good, yeah. I’ll tell you later but I uh. Just… just so you know, I didn’t fully express how much I enjoyed last night. If I’m honest, while I was at work I thought maybe I just hallucinated you. Because you’re too good to be true because we just get on so well and also because I’ve never met a ghost before so I didn’t know if you were real,” you both laugh, “But now you’re here again and I‘m just so happy that we met. And that we got along so well and just.. yeah. I really need a friend.”

You don’t know what to say yet, so you just grin. You feel the same, even after one day. Sometimes time doesn’t mean a thing and you just recognise a good soul. Both of you did.

“I just really wish I could hug you right now,” you say, your voice sounds like you’re about to cry but you know it won’t happen.

“We can try,” Peter suggests quietly.

“Okay.”

You both take a step forward and put your arms around each other, but you don’t feel anything. It’s awkward for both of you and you leaned in to much so you’re half standing in Peter.

You decide not to do that again, but your heart breaks; you can’t even pretend to hug someone.

He tells you about his classes and work. He’s college age but after everything that happened to him and with everyone forgetting him, has to redo his general education test. You know he’s smart and doesn’t have to go to classes, but he says he wanted to make some friends there. He hasn’t so far because he’s still too sad and mostly keeps to himself, but he’ll get there eventually.

Even if he hasn’t made friends in class, he’s made a friend at his home. You will never be far.

Even though you don’t mean to, you start talking again for what feels like hours. Before it really becomes hours though, you tell him to go to sleep. He keeps interrupting himself with a yawn and the circles under his eyes are getting darker by the minute.

“I can’t sleep now. I wanna talk to you,” he says and your figurative heart swells.

“I’m not going anywhere. We can still talk tomorrow,” you smile. You reach out to caress his face but pull your hand back when you remember you can’t. You will never get used to it.

He smiles tiredly, “Okay. Will you stay here?”

Before you can answer he adds, “It-it’s obviously okay if not.”

“I’ll stay.”

He sleeps on the left side of his twin bed even though you don’t need any room. You pretend to cuddle him while he sleeps but you’re always floating a few inches too far away from him or end up floating into him.

Becoming Peter’s friend has made you the happiest you’ve been since you became a ghost, but you’ve never been sadder to not be human. To not be able to touch him, to hold his hand, to hug him.

You go outside to float in front of his window, only to find Lucky meowing on the fire escape and you’re once again reminded that you can’t pet her and can’t show her love how you want to. You wonder why she stays with you. You can’t give her food, water or shelter, and not even cuddles.

You go back inside when you hear Peter mumbling something in his sleep. He’s told you about his nightmares and you’ll wake him up if he seems upset. But you think it’s just a normal dream, so you let him sleep.

Peter takes you to the movie theatre the next day while you make yourself invisible. You’ve always thought about doing stuff like this since you’ve had the ability to get into any place unnoticed, but you knew you’d see happy families and friends and couples and would have felt like an outsider.

Now you’re not alone anymore.

“Did you have a bad dream last night? You were talking and moving a bit in your sleep.” You ask him while you walk home through dark empty alleys. You don’t have to make yourself invisible here and people won’t think he’s crazy talking to himself.

“Oh, I…” his cheeks turn red, “No, no. But I wanted to ask you something. Since you told me you just go watch people in our building sometimes. So do you, uh, do you see people having sex a lot?” He laughs shyly.

“I see more people masturbating. I never intentionally watch, but you’d be surprised just how many people do it before going to bed,” you throw him a pointed look and suddenly he seems to find the floor really interesting, “I’d never watch you on purpose, but you do it so much,” you laugh.

“Jeez, okay,” he puts his hands up in defense and looks away from you completely with an embarrassed grin.

You laugh and bump your shoulder against his, forgetting you can’t and walking through him for a second. You’re grateful he’s still not looking.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I wish I could do it. I mean, I can’t even touch myself.”

His eyes meet yours and he smiles, and his blush slowly disappears.

You can’t feel the temperature but just looking at Peter makes you cold. He could go as Rudolph for Halloween with a nose as red as that. All the trees have turned different shades of orange, red and yellow and you ask Peter to take you somewhere livelier where you can look at the change of the season in real time.

You’re invisible again when you get into the lit up streets with more people, but it’s like Peter can always tell where you are. You two don’t say much, but he smiles at you every now and then, and he’s looking right at you even though you know he can’t see you. But he can feel you.

It makes you want to cry.

You stay out well into the night even though it’s too dark to appreciate the colour on the trees. But that doesn’t matter to you. You haven’t spent time more than a block away from Peter’s building in months. Now that you have someone else to go with, it’s all different.

You can’t help but think how much more beautiful it would all be if you were a human with an actual life. If you could have more friends. If you could go out and be seen and not have to worry about people freaking out or about being hunted down if someone sees you.

But for the moment you’re also happy that you have Peter. You always will be. Maybe it was meant to be. You both lost your life, in one way or another, and found each other.

You become best friends over the next few weeks. You knew it was going to happen from the first time you talked for hours, but having a friend is even nicer than you remembered. It feels like your life is worth living again.

You’re actually doing things these days. You have things to look forward to. You have someone to talk to, someone who sees you, someone who accepts you even though, from the outside, you’re just a bit of not-quite-invisible air.

Peter sees your soul, he sees you as a person, but nevertheless he loves you just how you are, no matter how much you hate the state you have to be in forever.

He told you he loves you so early it could be considered rushed, but you couldn’t deny that you feel it too. Maybe it’s all going faster because you’re both starved for love, and for human connection. And maybe that’s okay. You’ve found a true friendship with him, and it has saved both your lives.

You’re not living how you’d wish to, but now that you have Peter, at least you can consider your existence a life. You forgot how much joy other people can bring you, and you’re lucky that Peter turned out to be one of the good ones.

Even though your life has gotten more exciting, and you’re doing more, you probably still prefer being in Peter’s one-room-apartment, just being yourself and talking for hours. You’ve known each other for months now and it feels like you could talk for all the years to come.

When it’s just the two of you, you can just be you. You don’t have to make yourself invisible, and you can’t imagine how weird it must be for Peter to be best friends with a ghost, so you appreciate him even more. Deep down you’re as human as anyone else, but you look far from it.

There are times when Peter forgets. When you’re thinking of getting food, he asks what you want, then he quickly apologises when he realises that you can’t eat, but you’re never mad at him. You still forget it yourself. You forget it even more now.

But while you love your long talks with Peter, about the most profound things, and more often the most meaningless things, what’s special about him is that you don’t have to talk. You can just be.

It’s not awkward when you’re both silent; it feels like the purest form of human connection. You just love him and he loves you. And he’s the best and most important friend you’ve ever had.

It’s not an ideal life, but for a ghost, it’s not too bad.

Peter is hesitant when he asks you to come to his job with him. You think it’s because he doesn’t want you to see what you’re missing out on - talking to people without them freaking out, having a normal life.

But you doubt you’ll be jealous of Peter having to work, plus you’ve always wondered what his workplace looks like. He started off working at a food place, but now he’s got a part-time office job that is less exhausting and pays better.

He says he doesn’t really have friends at his job, only a few colleagues that he’s friendly with, so you don’t think it will make you depressed again to see how he can talk to people when you can’t. You have Peter - a true friend - so why would you be jealous of some shallow and forced office friendships.

You’re just grateful you don’t have to sit around all day until Peter comes home. He’s taken you to class with him once, but you realised just how glad you are to be done with anything related to school and went home early.

He takes you to his work on a Friday, which he says is always the best day. Everyone’s happier because the weekend is close and Peter’s day ends a few hours earlier so he can take you to a street market around the corner after work. You won’t be able to buy anything, but you like looking.

When you’re with Peter, you always enjoy yourself.

The office isn’t far from Peter’s place, so you walk there. You make yourself invisible the first time you see another person and prepare to stay like that all day.

You’re excited to see where Peter spends hours nearly every day, but it’s nothing you didn’t expect. It’s simply an office. But he seems comfortable here and it makes you happy.

You know he’s struggled with money all his life, especially now with no financial support from anyone. Knowing that he makes enough money here to pay for his apartment and maybe even a few nice things every now and then — and it’s not even a full time job — makes you happy for him.

He shouldn’t have to work a day in his life, or at least get paid for being Spider-Man, but there are worse jobs than this, and there are apartments more expensive than his, especially in New York.

He jokes around with a few colleagues and once they’re gone he whispers their names to you. He’s told you about them before and it’s nice to finally put faces to the names. Peter smiles at you even though he can’t see you, but he’s looking right at you every time.

You get bored after the first hour and Peter tells you to do what you want, and you want to go outside.

You walk around a bit, observing people and the tiny moments of their life that you can witness. You wish you were like them.

It starts raining and you rush down the stairs into a subway station. It always feels weird when you’re walking through the rain and you can’t feel any of the raindrops.

You haven’t been at this station in ages - you had no reason to. You watch one train stop and go again, and suddenly you have the urge to go explore. You’ve never taken the time to notice what the underground tunnels look like - not on foot, anyway.

You follow the next train from one station to the next, and you follow it for two more stations. It’s exhilarating how you’re on the tracks but the train can’t hurt you. You don’t have to be scared.

You stop following the train as you take a right at a junction. A different train passes through you, and you walk through another station. At some point though, it’s all quiet. You realise that no train has passed you in twenty minutes, and you have no idea how far you’ve gone.

Suddenly, you notice how dark it is. There are no lights at all except at the end of the tunnel, but it seems so far away. You turn around to go back. You know there is nothing to be scared of. If anyone’s here, they can’t see you, they can’t hurt you.

Despite having no lungs, you feel out of breath as you rush back to where you came from - where you can see light. Your head snaps back when you hear something dripping behind you, then a few taps.

You stop in your tracks - you can’t tell where the noise is coming from. You close your eyes and count how long you think it would take for a deep breath.

When you open your eyes, the light is gone. It’s pitch black. You wish Peter was here to help you. How far from him are you? What if you won’t see him again? You don’t know how to get out of here.

You remember you can float through anything, and you can just go upwards, and you’ll end on some New York street. But when you try, you’ve suddenly lost all sense of direction. It’s like you’re underwater, deep, and no matter how far up you float, you just won’t reach the surface.

Not knowing what else to do, you keep going, anywhere. You’ll get back somehow, you have to.

Then, a door appears in front of you, light coming from behind it. You touch the handle and before you open the door, you’re in a room, sitting on a pillow.

You feel at home immediately. It’s like a spa for your brain. Comfy furniture and decorations, you can barely see the white of the walls. They’re covered in tapestry and spiritual ornaments.

Suddenly, there’s a woman in front of you, sitting on the carpeted floor. She doesn’t look human, but she’s not a ghost like you either. You’re not sure if she’s even real. She’s ethereal.

It crosses your mind for a second that you’ve overused your abilities as a ghost, and you’ve ended up in heaven after being hit by a subway train. Maybe God is sitting in front of you.

When she opens her eyes, it feels like a privilege to look into them, but when she looks right back at you, you realise you never made yourself visible again. How can she see you?

She chuckles, and it’s like an angelic whisper. “Don’t worry, you’re still disguised. It’s just me who can see you like this. It’s okay, my darling. What are you here for?”

You take a few moments to answer. “I.. I didn’t come here for anything. I was just going for a walk and then ended up here. I don’t know how.”

The woman smiles. “That’s what they all say. But no one wanders down the subway tracks if they’re happy with their life. So, what can I do for you?”

“I don’t.. understand. Who are you?”

“There is nothing to understand. You’re overthinking it. Who I am is not important. Now tell me your biggest wish, currently.”

She smiled kindly as you try to process it. The more she looks at you, the more you trust her. Against your own wish to not expose your deepest desires in front of a stranger, you answer. “I want to be human again. I want to live a normal life. With other people. And I want to be able to cry, and to feel touch.”

“Ah,” she quietly laughs to herself, “I could have guessed that myself. You see, my love, what you need is a kiss from the one you love. And it will turn you back. But you get only one try, so choose wisely. Make sure it’s the right person.”

All of a sudden, you can’t help but laugh. You get what’s going on. You’ve ended up in the den of a crackhead or a homeless person who watched too many Disney films growing up.

What are you doing, telling her about yourself?

She smiles at you warmly even after you laugh right in her face, and suddenly you feel bad. She might be out of her mind, but she seems kind.

You open your mouth, but when you blink you’re standing in front of Peter’s office building. You look around a few times. Now you feel like you’re the one out of your mind. You stand there for what feels like a few minutes, confused as anything, a little scared too.

You try to find an explanation and then remember that you’re a barely one year old ghost, and you probably still have a lot to learn. You hope it’s just that.

You forget everything that just happened when you hear Peter’s voice. He’s helplessly fumbling with the straps of his backpack, looking left and right, calling out your name when the people passing are far enough away. You have no idea how long you’ve been gone.

You go towards him and make yourself visible for a second, scaring him with a “Boo!”

He jumps and puts a hand on his chest. You become invisible again. “Oh my god, I thought I lost you. You were gone much longer than you said,” he whispers as people pass.

“Sorry, I went exploring. I would have come home eventually though. I always will.”

You don’t want to scare him, so you don’t tell him what happened. You’re with him now, so you feel safe anyway.

He smiles at you and you make your way back home together. Well, his home, you’re just a guest.

He tells you what he did at work while you were gone and when he asks what you saw when you were out, you tell him you just followed a subway around. That’s why you were gone so long, you followed it for ages and had to go back all the way.

You and Peter watch a film in the evening, but you’re not paying attention. You think back to your encounter with that woman - or whatever she was.

Her words replay in your mind and you realise for the first time what she was actually telling you.

A kiss from the one you love.

Peter.

She was telling you to kiss Peter.

It’s like suddenly something clicks within you.

You’re in love with him.

You’re in love. With Peter.

He’s literally the only person you even have: he’s the one you love.

It hasn’t occurred to you before that he’s more than a friend to you. Maybe you didn’t allow yourself to think it, because it would never work out.

But if that woman is right, you know it can work out. It all becomes as clear as glass. You’re in love with him.

You look at his face and you don’t know how you only saw a friend in him before. He laughs at the movie and the crinkles by his eyes become more prominent, and you just want to kiss them.

His mouth is open in a wide grin as he looks at you and you stare at his lips until his grin fades after a while. “What?” He licks his lips, “Not funny? You said you liked the actor last time so I thought—”

“No. It’s not that. I’m just.. tired.”

“You’re tired? I didn’t know you could be tired.”

“Well uh, no, not tired. But. I don’t know. I just can’t focus on the film right now. Aren’t you tired? You’ve had a busy week,” you suggest. You want him to go to bed, so you can think in peace.

“I am tired,” he smiles shyly, “I just didn’t want you to be bored. Didn’t wanna leave you alone for so long.”

It’s something he’s told you before. While he sleeps, you don’t. Sometimes you go out, but sometimes you stay in his apartment, right next to him. It’s weird when you spend so much time with him, but he’s asleep and it’s like he’s not actually there.

But you tell him it’s okay, and twenty minutes later he’s snoring away while you float around in his room, thinking.

You didn’t want to straight up tell him. You didn’t want to admit your crush, your love. It’s also a lot of pressure to tell him that he can turn you back into a human, fulfill your biggest dream, but only if he loves you back.

If you tell him that you like him, and he rejects you, you’ll lose your only friend. So will he. You can’t do that to yourself or to him.

But what about the woman? She seemed to know what she was talking about. She made you feel safe, once you decided to go along with the situation.

You’re a floating ghost. You have no doubt that fortune tellers could be real.

Then again, it could have just been a homeless woman who was taking drugs in the dirty underground. You have no reason to believe her. You have no reason not to believe her either though.

Maybe you’re just going insane. You teleported to Peter right after. You didn’t know you could do that. Or maybe you‘ve been wrong all this time and ghosts don’t live forever. Maybe your mind is rotting, and maybe you’re dying.

You sit down - you hover - next to Peter on the bed. He’s fast asleep, his hair all over the place. He’s curled up like a baby, and all you want to do is slip under the blanket with him and hold him.

You’ll decide that you’ll take the risk.

You won’t tell him that he could turn you human, but you’ll ask him for a kiss. If he rejects you you’ll… you don’t even want to think about how that would feel. But if he kisses you and you become human, you’ll be able to have a normal life again.

You’ll be able to kiss Peter, to hold his hand, to hug him. You’ll be able to make friends again, you’ll be able to cry, and actually feel the flutter of your heart when Peter smiles at you.

You’ve always trusted in your gut feeling, and in what’s in your heart. And right now you have hope in you. So you’ll trust in that.

By the time Peter wakes up, you’re sceptical again, and nervous. You’d much prefer to live a human life with Peter as your partner, but you couldn’t bare to ask Peter for a kiss, be rejected, and ruin your friendship. You’d be all alone again. You don’t want to risk that.

But you don’t want to be a ghost forever either - not if there’s another option.

You think for a few days, but you just can’t get the idea out of your head. You want to try it - you have to.

Peter has noticed that something’s off, and you don’t want to worry him any longer.

You’ve been trying to pay attention to how he treats you, how he looks at you - but you didn’t even realise you were in love for ages, so it’s even harder to realise if someone else is in love.

But, whether he’s in love with you or not, Peter is a kind soul. He won’t reject you in a mean way, or laugh at you if he doesn’t want to kiss you. It doesn’t mean that your friendship has to be ruined forever.

And anyway, the woman said you need a kiss from the one you love. She never said anything about him loving you back, even though that is implied. She never said anything about romantic love either though, and one thing you are sure about is that Peter at least loves you as a friend.

Today is a day where Peter is being extra adorable. His smile, his hair, the look in his eyes. They’re all perfect. He’s perfect. You just want to kiss him, regardless of if it turns you into a human or not.

You’re in his room, watching a film, but you’re barely paying attention because you’re talking all the time. You wait for a moment where no one’s talking and you’re both watching the film. You ask him to pause it.

Before you can change your mind, you say it.

“Peter, can you kiss me?” Your voice trembles at the end but his shy little smile gives you hope. He turns towards you, his cheeks turning red.

“I, I don’t know. Can I? I thought that wasn’t possible.”

“I know. But can you please try?”

“Oh. Okay.” He smiles softly and clears his throat, and then he leans in. He closes his eyes and so do you when you kiss him.

You briefly open your eyes again when nothing happens, to check if you’re close enough.

You are close enough to kiss him.

You close your eyes again and try to think of how badly you want to turn human again. Maybe you need to convince whoever is responsible for turning you back. A whine slips past your lips when nothing happens.

Peter pulls away and you open your eyes. You look down at yourself.

Still a ghost.

Nothing has changed.

“I have to go.” You don’t even look at him as you get up and leave.

Peter follows you, “No, wait. Wait.”

You make yourself invisible and he stops in his tracks. You stay there - Peter is your safe place, you have nowhere else to go. Peter calls out for you a few times, turning to see if he can find you. He usually can, it’s like he can just feel you, maybe it’s to do with his spidey senses. But this time, while he’s panicking, he can’t calm down to feel where you are.

You leave when a neighbour comes to curse at Peter for being so loud.

You hide in the cellar, where no one bothers you. You’ve never wanted to cry more than now, but you just can’t. The sensation, the urge to cry, is there, but you have no tears.

It was stupid to even think you could kiss him. You thought you’d turn into a solid human once your lips touched. All you did was make it awkward for both of you.

And you can’t believe you were dumb enough to believe that woman. You feel pathetic for letting yourself feel so much hope, all because of what a stranger on drugs said to you.

Or maybe that woman told you the truth. Maybe the woman was right, and Peter just doesn’t love you. Realising that hurts more than knowing you’ll be alone and a ghost forever.

You don’t think you can ever look Peter in the eyes again. You hate to take away the only friend he has, but after putting so much hope in him and being disappointed - you can’t just be his friend. It was unfair of you to expect him to be in love with you, but it didn’t stop you from doing it.

After staying in the basement a day and a night, and trying but failing to cry, you realise something. If the woman was right, and there is a way for you to get your life back, and the issue was just Peter’s feelings for you, or rather the lack thereof, she should also know how to end your life.

Turning back into a human would revive you, and make your existence into a life that is worth living. If she knows how to do that, she might know you can stop existing altogether. If you can’t find love, what’s the point of being here?

You’ll go along the subway tracks again, and hopefully you’ll find her.

But, even though you don’t want to see him again, you want to say goodbye to Peter. See him one last time. It’s early, so you hope he’s still asleep.

You make your way up to his floor, floating past all of the windows below his. It’s cold and it’s raining, and the sun isn’t quite up yet. You can only just see Peter through his fogged up window.

He’s asleep, but the covers are on the floor, and he’s wearing the same clothes he wore when you last saw him. You hope he’s not too sad. You know he can make other friends. Maybe even meet someone he can fall in love with. You think he’ll be okay.

You curse when a raindrop hits you right in the eye, and the noise you make wakes Peter up. You freeze when he looks right at you and gets out of bed.

“You’re back,” he beams, but you see the dark circles under his eyes.

You look down at yourself and realise you forgot to make yourself invisible. You try, it’s like an instinct at this point - you usually think about it and you become invisible. But nothing happens.

You go through Peter’s window and meet him on the other side. You haven’t seen him in a day, and you already missed being so close to him. God, not being able to hug him will be the death of you.

Peter starts stuttering about how worried he was and how glad he is to see you, meanwhile you’re still trying to make yourself invisible. Finally, you stop him. “You can see me?”

“Oh, uh,” he frowns, “Yeah?”

That’s when you realise. “Wait. Peter. Oh my god. I just felt a raindrop in my eye, when I was outside. There was a raindrop in my eye! And my back has been hurting all night, Peter. My back hurts!”

“I didn’t know your back could hurt.”

“It couldn’t, but now it does. I was sitting down in your basement for like a whole day. And now my back hurt. And I can’t make myself invisible anymore,” you’re nearly shouting now.

Peter looks at you for a few seconds as he processes what you’re saying, “Wait. Are you…”

“I think I am.”

You try to grab his hands in excitement but it doesn’t work. “Oh. And wait, I just floated right through your window. Maybe I… maybe I imagined feeling the raindrop.” You look down as your smile turns into a frown. You’ve once again let yourself get too hopeful about something you’re not sure was even real.

“Try again,” Peter says, folding his arms in front of him, “Try walking through my door.”

“What?” You ask, annoyed.

“Try to go through my door like you always do.” He turns towards his door and you sigh. You float right through the door and come back. Still a ghost. You just want to go back into the basement - you don’t even have enough energy to try and find the subway woman anymore.

“Again,” Peter says. You stare at him and he stares back until you turn around to pathetically float through his door a few times. He tells you to do it again and again but you’ve had enough. You try to float back into his apartment again but you crash against the door with a bang.

Peter comes running and opens the door, “Oh my god, are you okay?”

You don’t answer him - you have no words. You look down at yourself - still a ghost - but you just felt something you haven’t felt in years. You just touched that door, and you felt it in your whole body.

Peter has tears in his eyes now and you look at him, “Peter, what does this mean? Oh my god.”

“I don’t know. Try again,” he says.

You float right through his door about ten times until you bang against it again. This time Peter sees you, and he’s speechless for a few seconds.

“You just- I just- I saw you. As a human. It’s like you flickered to life for a second and you – you weren’t a ghost anymore,” he looks at you completely in awe and it’s like you can feel your heartbeat. You look at your body, and it’s still transparent - there’s no heart inside of you - but you’re hopeful now. And it finally feels like you actually have a reason to be.

“So- so what, should I just walk through your door over and over again until I become solid?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. I don’t think we should force it. Maybe your atoms are still learning how to be atoms again.”

You squint at him, “Thought you were supposed to be good at physics. That doesn’t sound very scientific.”

“I don’t know how much of this is science and how much is.. magic. I don’t know. Maybe we just need to be patient.”

“I can’t be patient.”

“I know, neither can I. But you’ll just hurt yourself by banging against a door ten times. Let’s just sit it out and distract ourselves and wait and see.”

He closes the door and sits on his bed, his eyes never leaving you. You blink at him.

“Peter. I can’t just sit with you here pretending that everything is fine between us and like this doesn’t determine my whole entire being and my life, and my relationship with the only living person I love.”

He looks at you in confusion, “Why does it determine our relationship?”

“You won’t want to be with me if I keep being a ghost.”

“What? Why not?”

“Are you kidding me? You can’t even kiss me. You won’t ever be able to take me on a date anywhere. I can’t even exist except in this apartment.”

“I don’t care as long as we’re together. And I won’t lie, or course it sucks that I can’t kiss you. And that I can’t hug you. But I don’t love you for physical things. I love you for who you are. I love you for things that go beyond flesh and bones and biologically being a human. Who cares about that? I’m in love with who you are in your soul, not your body.”

You can’t believe what he’s telling you. “You’d want to be with me even if I stayed a ghost?”

“Of course. Without a doubt. You think I would have fallen in love with you if it was a dealbreaker for me that you don’t have a physical body?”

That’s when you suddenly realise that you’ve just confessed your feelings for him. And he feels the same.

“You’re in love with me?” You feel your whole body flickering for a second, and from Peter’s face you can tell he saw it too.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, and you both take a step towards each other. The fact that you’re turning back into a human means the woman was right. She was real and she was telling you the truth. You found the right person and kissed him, and now you’re going to be human again.

You can’t believe it. Well, you’re still a ghost but you don’t know what else this would be.

“I’m so in love with you too,” you confess, and you’re grinning at each other so much you could cry. Maybe soon you’ll actually be able to. You can’t wait to cry again.

“Mmmmmh Peter, you better have some good distractions.”

You decide you shouldn’t go outside since you can’t make yourself invisible anymore, so you watch some movies, but you’re both too giddy to pay attention for even a single second.

By evening, you’re still a ghost, and while your hope isn’t gone, you’re starting to overthink. “What if it doesn’t work? What if I’m just imagining things because I’m hopeful? Or what if this is a weird stage between ghost and human that I’m trapped in now? And-and what if that woman was just lying to me, what if she’s cursed me or if she was a crazy woman and I’ve put my whole hope and trust in her and believed that it could turn my whole life around?”

“Wait, what woman?” Peter asks.

Oh. You weren’t going to tell him until this whole turning into a human thing has been sorted. Knowing that Peter loves you back is the only thing that matters, you thought the details could wait.

“Do you remember when you took me to your office a few weeks ago, and I disappeared for a bit? I met this woman, I don’t know if she was a human or a ghost or what, but she seemed so trustworthy and angelic, and she told me… she asked me what my biggest wish was, and I told her I want to be human again. She said I need to kiss the one I love and it will turn me back.”

His gaze turns soft and then excited. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have kissed you right then and there and you could be a human by now. Why are you still doubting that this is working? Oh my god. And I’m the one you chose. I love you.” He runs a hand through his hair and leans in to touch you, but pulls back when he realises he can’t. Not yet. But soon.

You giggle, “I love you too. But I was scared you didn’t feel the same. And I didn’t want to ruin the friendship we have. That’s why I ran away after we kissed. I thought I’d messed everything up. And I wasn’t even sure if that woman was real, so I doubted that you’d believe me.”

“Of course I would have believed you,” he smiles.

“And also… I was scared that it wouldn’t work. And we still don’t know if it worked. I mean, look at me.” You try to take his hand but your hand goes right through his.

“It will work. But you’ve been a ghost for a while now, it will take some time.”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then we’ll find a different way. I promise. And even if not, I’ll make your life worth living. Even as a ghost. I think in the end we’re all just ghosts. Some of us have flesh bodies with gross organs inside. Some of us are just a beautiful floating soul like you.”

You smile and lean in, trying to touch him again. It doesn’t work, but now that you know he loves you either way, it doesn’t matter as much. You’d still prefer a human life though.

You wake up late the next morning. All the excitement must have tired you out eventually. You turn around and see Peter still sleeping, a smile on his face.

You stare at him for a bit. At his toned biceps and the rest of his arm, all the way down to his hand that’s resting on your hip.

His hand. That is resting. On your hip.

You jump up when you look at your legs and they’re actual legs. You’re lying down in Peter’s bed. You’re not floating anymore. And you just woke up. You slept.

You’re human.

All your moving around wakes Peter up and he’s confused for the first few moments, his brain taking a while to start working.

“Peter, I have a flesh body with gross organs inside!” You sit up and jump around on the bed, waiting for him to fully wake up so you can finally finally kiss him.

His eyes go wide when he takes in your body, your human self, and he almost lunges forward to wrap his arms around you and meet your lips in a bruising kiss. You pull him as close to you as you can, pressing your lips against his, and you start to cry. You can’t believe that it’s actually happened. That you’re actually kissing Peter.

You want to kiss him for the rest of your life, but you haven’t touched anything in over a year, so feeling your body for the first time in a long time, being kissed and crying at the same time is a little overwhelming.

When you place your hand on Peter’s chest, he immediately understands what you’re asking and he pushes himself off of you, only hovering above you. His eyes are filled with tears and one of them rolls down his face and lands on your chin, and he wipes it away quickly. “Sorry,” he says quietly.

“It’s okay.” You don’t wipe away your own tears, you want to feel them on your face. The tears feel even more magical than a kiss turning you from a ghost into a human. “Peter,” you take his face between your hands and cup his cheeks, “Look. I have real tears on my face! And I can feel them., I missed them so so much.”

Peter cries with you and turns his face to kiss your hand. “You’re so beautiful. I mean, you were beautiful before but, god. It’s like I’m seeing you for the first time. Really seeing you.”

You’re about to respond when your stomach growls loudly and you both look down at it.

“You must be hungry,” Peter says, getting off of you and walking to the kitchen area, “I can, I think I can make some pancakes. Or just toast? I don’t know if your stomach will have to get used to food again first.”

You sit up and stare at him for a bit. He’s so gorgeous. You’re so glad you met him.

“I want to shower first. Haven’t showered in like a year,” you laugh, walking over to him. Peter lifts your arm and shoves his nose against your armpit, “You smell fine. You smell lovely, actually.” You scream and you giggle as you run away from him through his small but cozy apartment. If you’re honest, it smells a lot better than what you expected of such an old building. You’ve grown so fond of it, although that’s mostly because of Peter.

“Shit,” you realise, “I have to get a job now. And buy food and clothes and pay rent and find a place to live. I wanna be a ghost again,” you joke, but Peter takes your hand and gently pulls you towards him.

“I won’t let that happen. Just stay here. For now, or forever if you want. And I’ll make sure to feed you, you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

You step closer to him and grin against his face. You can see he wants to kiss you, but isn’t sure if he can in case it’s overwhelming. You give him a short kiss and ask him if you can shower. He tells you you can do whatever you want and to tell him if you need anything - including alone time without him. But for now, you just need a shower.

When you come out of the bathroom, Peter has bought new clothes for you. You’re in the clothes you died in, so you’d rather wear anything else, but the clothes Peter bought are quite nice and fit perfectly. He says he just ran to that thrift store around the corner and got you loads of clothes for less than twenty dollars. You always wanted to go there with him. Now you can.

You can do whatever you want with Peter, wherever you want. You can meet new people and make new friends. And you can live a human life.

Peter makes breakfast for you and you spend the rest of the day lying in bed with him, occasionally holding hands or kissing for a second, but making out or even cuddling is still overstimulating. You know you’ll get there soon and you can’t wait until you do so you can physically show Peter just how much you love him, but for now being brought back to life is already making you feel enough things.

You nearly forget that you have to sleep again now. That’s until you yawn and you realise how exhausted you are. Peter tells you to go to sleep and he’ll look after you.

You fall asleep holding his hand.

The next day, Peter has to go back to work, so you spend some time alone.

You touch yourself all over your body, just feeling yourself.

You’re much more used to touch now than you were yesterday, so your hand sneaks down between your thighs, giving yourself the best orgasm of your life.

It’s just you and your body, making love to yourself.

You go for a long walk, enjoying every aspect of it. You don’t have a winter coat so you just take a blanket with you. You hardly even stand out for New York’s standards.

The colourful leaves have all fallen by now and you missed being able to step on the crunchy ones. You missed feeling the wind on your face and how your nose gets all cold in the late autumn air.

You kiss Peter for longer than ever before when he comes home from work, and then you hug him for about ten minutes. And then you kiss him again.

He takes you grocery shopping so he can cook you your favourite meals and he can learn what you like.

You’re in the fruit aisle, asking him which apples to get, and you realise he’s not listening to you, just staring. “What?“ You start grinning at his lovesick expression.

“Nothing. I just love you so much. I mean, look at you.” He twirls you around and doesn’t let go of your hand, “You’re so.. alive,” you both laugh, but you know what he means, “You’re so vibrant. And full of life. You were beautiful before but now? Wow. Like. Oh my fucking god.”

You let him stare and just get the apples that look the best to you.

You’re walking through the streets hand-in-hand a while later. You’re on your way home, enjoying life and enjoying that you can touch Peter and that you can walk outside without having to make yourself invisible.

“The one thing I didn’t miss is how bad this city smells sometimes,” you scrunch up your nose and Peter kisses it. You chase the smell of him when he pulls back, burying your nose against his neck, humming, “Mmh, you smell good though.”

“You smell better,” he grins and kisses your lips, his cold, red nose brushing up against your cheek.

While Peter unlocks the front door to your building, you hear an unmistakable meow from behind you. Lucky. You haven’t seen her in weeks. You were worried something happened to her.

You crouch down in front of her, reaching out your hand. She immediately pushes her head against your palm, asking you to pet her.

You don’t know how - because you didn’t have a smell when you were a ghost - but she recognises you. She knows you. And you finally get to feel her soft fur and make her purr for as long as she wants to.

You don’t dare ask Peter - it’s technically only his apartment and you don’t even know if pets are allowed in the building. “Just take her,” he playfully rolls his eyes and holds the door open for you and Lucky. You’ll let her go out whenever she wants, but if she can’t be bothered catching mice or needs a warm place to stay or to get a cuddle, you want to be there for her. She got you through some rough times.

You and Peter end up cooking together - it’s much more fun like that. Lucky is snoring on your bed, but she’s on Peter’s side, so you leave her there. Lucky stays out most of the time, but you see her every few days, and always welcome her in.

You get yourself a pretty winter coat in a small shop not far from your and Peter’s place, and you notice a sign saying they’re hiring. The manager is beyond kind and it’s only a few hours a week, and you get the job. You don’t really need it while you’re living with Peter in his apartment, but you need something to do and now you and Peter really don’t have to worry about paying rent each month.

You pick Peter up from work that day in your new, pretty coat and it starts snowing. It’s the first snow of the year. Peter tells you how sad and depressed he was last winter and how happy he is now. You tell him how sad and depressed you were last winter and how happy you are now.

You were both so lonely. So lost. With an existence you could barely call a life. And you found each other, and it changed everything. He’s your person. And you’re his.

Peter takes you to meet some colleagues outside of work for the first time and you invite a neighbour you were talking to the other day in your building’s laundry room. You can already see her becoming a new friend, and afterwards Peter tells you how well he gets along with one of his colleagues. It’s a good day.

By now, you’re completely used to all touch and sensation. You can kiss Peter for as long as you want without feeling overwhelmed, and you keep wanting more and more.

Your watching a film one Friday night turns into nothing but kissing. Kissing kissing kissing. It’s not enough though, and you pull Peter’s hoodie off over his head.

“I need you,” you softly say into his ear and he grins.

“You sure?”

“I’m so sure, Peter, please.” You’ve been thinking about having sex with Peter for months now, so now that you’re finally ready, you’re ready.

He smiles at you and leans down to kiss your neck, his hand slipping under the hem of your shirt, fingers slowly sliding up your belly.

It’s torture how light his touch is, so you pull off the shirt you’re wearing, leaving you only in your panties.

Peter licks his lips as he looks at you and slowly lowers his face to your chest, kissing between your breasts and then gently taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

You grab onto his hair and sigh in pleasure, his hands making their way up your sides, but soon you’re hungry for more. Your fingers glide down his chest, past his abs, and find his hard cock beneath his sweatpants.

He stops what he’s doing and moans, pressing his head against your shoulder as you begin to tease him with featherlight touch over his briefs. “Fuck,” he groans, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

The pleasure written all over his features makes you stop what you’re doing. You lift your legs to push your panties down your legs. You’re trying to get Peter’s pants off too but he sits up to spread your legs and sit between them.

Your cheeks heat up as he spreads your lips to look at your pussy, and he shyly tells you how pretty you are. You can feel his breath on your skin and you’re getting wetter by the second.

“Is this okay?” He asks, pressing his lips against your inner thighs with a wet mouth.

“Yes, fuck, more than okay.”

Then his mouth is finally on your clit, and you gasp when you first feel his wet tongue on your pussy. You tell him what to do and he quickly gets the hang of it, his eyes focussing on your face to see what you like most.

He slowly and gently plays with your pussy until you cum all over his face with a cry of his name, and then he doesn’t stop until you cum another time. By your second orgasm, you’re grabbing his hair and grinding your pussy against his face, begging him to get inside of you.

He stands up to get the condom but when you see the bulge in his sweatpants, you want him in your mouth.

You sit up to kneel at the edge of the bed, next to where he’s standing. You touch him over his pants and look up at him with angel eyes. “Can I?”

“Fuck. Of course.” He drops the condoms when you pull down his sweats and wrap your hand around his hard cock.

You’re looking up at him as you take your time with him, tracing his length with wet lips, gently licking his balls, and then you wrap your lips around the head of his cock. You take him deeper each time, slowly moving your head up and down, your spit dripping down him.

He opens his mouth, and nothing but a desperate moan comes out, making you suck his dick faster. You grab his thigh to steady yourself, hollowing your cheeks every time you take him deeper into your mouth.

Seeing him all worked up, gasping and moaning, is making you so wet and desperate, but you can’t stop - you don’t want to. You can hear how close he is by how short his breaths are and how broken his voice sounds.

“Fuck– fuck,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, and then he puts a hand on your cheek, making you stop.

“I wanna be inside of you now. I need to–” he takes off his pants and puts on the condom while you lie back down, spreading your legs. Peter stops when he gets back on the bed and presses a kiss onto your clit, taking a second to taste you again.

“Peter…” your whimper, making his head snap towards your face.

“Okay, yes, okay,” he quickly positions himself between your legs, lining himself up with you, “You sure?”

“Yes, oh my god, Peter. Just fuck me.”

He grins and kisses you as he slowly pushes into you. You wrap your arms around him and hold him as close to you as you can. You stop kissing him back - you feel too good to do anything.

All the desperation is gone, it’s just you and him now, taking your time. The rest of the world doesn’t exist. Only Peter does.

He looks into your eyes as he thrusts into you, as deep as he can, and you wrap your legs around his waist, so you’re spread out even more for him. “I love you,” he breathes.

“I love you,” you say, pulling him even closer. You search for his hand and he brings it up to your face. You open your mouth so he can push a finger past your lips, and you hum as you suck his finger into your mouth. The only sounds you can hear are Peter’s breaths, him sliding into your wet pussy, and your wet lips around his finger.

You’re still looking right into his eyes, and he doesn’t look away. You chase his finger with your mouth when he pulls it away, but he quickly soothes you with a deep kiss.

“You wanna cum for me?” He asks, bringing his thumb between your legs to rub your clit. He’s holding himself up with his forearm, still fucking you while he touches your clit.

You never knew how strong he was. But now that he’s on top of you, so desperate and so close, his big biceps right next to your face, he’s still doing everything he can to make you feel good - no weakness in sight.

You feel your orgasm approaching, and press your lips against his. “Fuck, so good for me, so pretty,” he whispers against your mouth, keeping the rhythm steady against your clit.

The waves of your orgasm flood you with pleasure and spread through your whole body. You arch up into him, pressing your chest against his. Your pussy squeezes him so tight that he cums with you, moaning into your mouth, short thrusts into your pussy until you’re both coming down from your highs.

You stay wrapped in each other for a while, his forehead pressed against yours. You’re breathing each other, pressing kisses onto each other’s faces.

“I love you,” he says, still out of breath.

You grin at him and put your hand on his cheek as you kiss him, “I love you too.”

You’re walking down the streets of a holiday-themed market a few weeks later, a hot drink in one hand, your other one intertwined with Peter’s, snowflakes flying through the air.

He’s showing you a cute holiday bauble when you see the reflection of someone you know in it. Your quickly turn around and then you see the woman. The woman who told you how to become human.

She’s standing far away, but you can see her clearly. She smiles at you and you beam back at her. You want to walk towards her to thank her, but something tells you to stay right where you are.

“I knew you’d make the right choice,” she smiles warmly, and then she vanishes into thin air. You grin.

You look at Peter and his adorable face for a few seconds. Then you grab him to kiss him, and he kisses you back with so much love.

She’s right. You made the right choice.

☆.｡.:*support a writer and reblog or send an ask if you enjoyed, it helps out a lot.｡.:*☆

#peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x you #peter parker friends to lovers #ghost!reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker #Spiderman smut #Spiderman x reader #fem!reader #tom holland #peter parker halloween fic #halloween

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sciderman · 11 months

Note

is there an already thought out plot line? Like is there a list of things that you're going down as you make comics?

hooh! i always do have a checklist of little storylines and posts, but it's more flexible than you think, and sometimes i don't wind up getting to do all the things i planned (c'est tragique!)

two cancelled items on the checklist as of post-halloweeny (but i might do later along the line... or next year... maybe... maybe...) teen wade's halloweeny flashback spectacular (aka the first time wade wilson put on a mask) the six-armed spider-man arc (really sad about this one. the scripts are so. so so so so soooo funny) sad spaghetti boy hours (aka peter confides in wade how he's feeling after "going public") the resolution of the venom take-over (aka deadpool fails miserably at actually making any progress) couples yoga (aka wade and peter have a soul-searching conversation and actually do make progress) wade's next therapy sessions (heavy duty) wade gets a new tailor (and a new outfit) the boys are back in town (deadpool back in action) peter finally persuades wade to visit eleanor the boys move out of aunt may's house (and into the baxter building) wade realises he's really good with kids, actually peter parker goes back to midtown high spider-man has another britney moment (in the worst way) spider-man and deadpool break-up (for real) (not clickbait)

as for anything that comes further than that, you're just going to have to stay tuned...

#sci speaks #maybe i should write the six armed spider-man arc as a fic. all the dialogue is already there.#but god.. i was so looking forward to drawing peter all clumsy with all those arms.#one day baby... one day...#the arc really spotlights gwen she is so good.#oh to see the less-soft side of gwen stacy. a gwen stacy who has had Enough of peter's shit. and she stops babying him.

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writer-or-whatever · 4 months

Note

The body swap WIP! I love that trope🤭

It's a good fucking trope! Although currently that fic sort of exists just as a bulleted list type outline, not any concrete scenes yet (despite the fact that it has been nebulously floating around in my brain for like a year). Anyway, please enjoy the concept:

AU where soulmates swap bodies for 24 hours. This happens when one of them needs the other most instead of some arbitrary age. Peter, of course, is alone in NYC post-nwh and after Ned and MJ go away to college.

The bodyswap happens on a completely mundane Tuesday. Peter hasn’t even had any kind of big spiderman fight, and MJ isn’t in any kind of trouble beyond the six courses she’s taking this semester (it’s slightly too many, or so Ned keeps saying, but she needs to keep herself busy to keep her mind off the gaping hole she feels in her life but can’t really get her head around)

When they swap, Peter does his best not to panic. He goes through his day, doing his best to channel his inner MJ (which, shouldn’t be too hard. He is in her body) and not clue anyone in. He finds her class schedule, goes, takes notes, and lays low so she doesn’t fall behind. He makes it almost all the way through the day before Ned finally catches up to him and almost immediately clocks that he is, in fact, not MJ. Cue the great grilling for information.

Ned is so excited for MJ, for both of them honestly—even though he doesn’t know Peter—and Peter feels so so bad for clamming up and skirting around so many of his questions, giving just the most perfunctory answers and trying not to break down at having his best friend’s enthusiasm aimed at him again. Ned assumes that MJ is the one who needs her soulmate, he knows about her unease and the feeling that she’s missing something big—knows about her lists and drawings of a boy they don’t know (but that looks so familiar somehow) and the feeling of loss that she tries to play off every time he asks.

Peter feels like he’s been punched in the solar plexus for the entire conversation. He had no idea that MJ was feeling like this. He hadn’t realized that everyone that forgot him had a Peter Parker sized hole in their lives. He didn’t realize it was possible for anyone to miss him so much, especially when they never even knew he was missing. Peter gets so worked up about this that he actually vomits. Ned is so so worried, but before Peter can really say anything one way or another, he’s back in his own body.

Meanwhile MJ is having quite the Tuesday. She wakes up in this sad tiny cramped apartment back in New York. It takes her approximately five minutes to come across the spidey suit, which is draped over the shower curtain rod drying. It takes her even less time to find the picture of her, Ned, and the boy whose face she is currently wearing.

She gets that same sick feeling in her gut and buzzing in her head that she’s had for months, every time she tries to figure out what the hell is missing. She still doesn’t know all the details, or any of them really, but the weird holes in her life and in her and Ned’s friendship seem to be adding up to the shape of this boy—of fucking spiderman apparently (and why does that information give her a bit of smug satisfaction? Not that her soulmate is a superhero but rather the fact that she’s figured out that this boy is spiderman).

She digs around his entire tiny one-room apartment and lays out everything she finds and deems another important piece of the puzzle. She finds a few more photos of them, a lego star wars figure (notably one of the ones that Ned has complained he’s missing from one of his sets), and then the fucking note. The one he wrote to practice telling them who is he is. The one where he tells them all about who he is (Peter Parker), and who he was to her and Ned. Upon reading this, she has a vague memory of this guy walking into the diner she used to work at and giving her his whole name with his order of a single small black coffee before he left.

Suddenly she is so so angry. It comes from somewhere deep inside her, deeper than the well of the strange sadness she’s been dealing with for months. She doesn’t remember knowing Peter, but somewhere deep inside her she remembers being devasted by something he’s done.

It’s almost midnight, so she doesn’t have time to do much other than leave him a short note that she leaves on top of all of the other things she’s dug out over the course of the day. It just says ‘You owe me an explanation, Peter’ and her phone number.

This is, of course, a bad things happen bingo prompt fill so I'm leaving the ending a bit open. So yeah. That's the bodyswap au WIP. Thanks for asking 🥰

#james speaks #james writes #pals

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calciseptinefic · 2 years

Text

a luxury few can afford

Marvel || Wade Wilson/Peter Parker || Part 1 notes: i cannot believe this is what gets me back on tumblr. jfc. this fic is also available on ao3 warnings: discussion of blowjobs?

Peter has exhausted his resources.

Correction: he has exhausted most of his resources. Which are... limited to begin with, as he is a broke college student slash vigilante slash part-time photographer running on little more than fumes and cheap pizza slices. He could maybe find another solution to his problem given more time, energy, and money, but he has none of those things. Zero. Zippo. Nada. And the man he's been tracking—some mid-level goon working for Kingpin—is going to leave the country in less than three days. If Peter doesn't want to waste several months of stake-outs and information gathering, then he needs to resort to his last resort:

Asking a favor of Wade 'Merc with a Mouth' Wilson.

"Sounds like I'm gonna get shot at," Wade says contemplatively around a mouthful of masticated Mexican mush. As is usual, they're sitting on the ledge of a building, feet dangling a dozen stories above a dimly lit alley. "And I charge extra for being shot at. I mean, it's not like being shot at is gonna do anything except temporarily make me look even more like swiss cheese, but..." He takes another massive bite of his food, finishing it. "It's the principle of the thing."

"And what's the going rate for swiss cheese?" Peter asks as casually as possible.

Wade names a price with a few more zeroes on it than Peter can afford.

"Ah," Peter says.

"But for you, baby boy, I can give a discount!"

Peter has a feeling that even a discount would still be wildly outside his budget.

"Let's pretend I don't have any money," Peter says instead of asking, picking at the tinfoil keeping his burrito warm. His late dinner (early breakfast?) is starting to look a little sad, the congealed cheese greasy and the shredded lettuce limp. "Let's pretend the food truck took the last of my already meager paycheck, and that the only thing I have to offer is a favor."

"Ah, the favor," says Wade wisely. "Ye ol' tit for tat. The mutual scratching of mutual backs. The amorphous, ambiguous assumption that sometime in the unknown future, I will need you to do something for me that I am unable to do for myself, for whatever contrived reason the author thinks of."

"Umm, yes?"

"Umm, let me think about this." Wade bunches up the leftover mess of tinfoil and parchment paper from his own meal and tosses it over the side of the building. Amazingly, a few seconds later, there's a soft plink as the ball makes it into an open dumpster. "And my answer is... no."

"Why not?" asks Peter, voice rising.

"Because there's not a whole lot you can do that I can't." Wade shrugs.

"That's not true!" Peter protests.

"It isn't?" The smile Wade gives him is wry, an unexpected flash of straight white teeth against angry, pockmarked skin. "I can't think of much that would require your superhero spidery-ness that I cannot accomplish with a) my distinct lack of morality and b) my god-tier ninja skills. Oh, and c) this pesky inability to die. That's super duper helpful, in the right contexts."

Peter exhales slowly. Usually, he and Wade get along annoyingly well, but sometimes, Wade just annoys. So he tries again, attempting to keep his tone level as he says, reasonably, "Well, maybe there isn't anything you can think of now, at this particular moment—"

Wade interrupts him with a shake of his head. "I'm going to stop you right there, baby boy. This fic is only five k and it ain't tagged for fake dating shenanigans, so... No. I don't think that temporality is the name of the game here."

"It will be two hours of your time," Peter says.

"Ooo, a new angle!" Wade crows. "Still temporal, but okay. Lay it on me."

"Two hours, Deadpool. I need to put this guy away. Now. He's leaving for Germany soon to arrange another shipment, and the new drugs they're flooding our community with have already killed 17 people."

"Firstly, 'our community'? Really? Going for the empathetic, inclusionist vibe?" Then, without pause, Wade points out, "Fisk's men aren't the only bastards dealing. Not exactly going to solve the problem."

"No, it won't," Peter admits. "But I can't keep webbing up random dealers, because it doesn't do anything, because someone else from Kingpin's gang just replaces him. And Kingpin's operation is the biggest provider. If I can get this last bit of proof, then I can hand it over to Matt and get the actual operation shut down. Legally. The supply will be choked. Sure, some random dealers will get the trickle down from the outside, but those guys I can web up."

Wade is quiet. Peter hopes, for a moment, that Wade will sigh, say 'fuck it', and do what Peter wants in exchange for that favor he mocked. Instead, Wade says,

"Still a no, baby boy."

Peter's low-simmering irritation flares into real anger. He knows Wade isn't altruistic and that there are plenty of good reasons he has a darker view of the world. Most of the time, it doesn't bother Peter; in the years he's been Spiderman, he's grown more pragmatic, and he understands the worlds in deeper shades of gray than some of his other superhero counterparts. It's one of the reasons why he gets along with Wade when most people don't.

Right now, however, Wade's apathy for something Peter's struggling with feels like a betrayal. It stings. Deeply. Peter had been trepid about asking Wade because Wade is a wild card with a fondness for explosions and mayhem, but he had been so sure that Wade would say yes. He thought that their friendship—as odd as it was—was beginning to feel like... like... like something else. Like something more. Something that would make Wade sling an arm around Peter's shoulders and say, Okay, baby boy. Anything for you.

But Wade said no. Such sharp, sudden hurt—this needling reminder that Wade comes with a price, even for Peter—makes Peter mean, and he snarls, "Fine, then. If you won't do it because it's the right thing to do, and you won't do it in exchange for a favor, then what do you want? A blowjob?"

Peter knows he's crossed a line the moment it leaves his mouth. The whites of Wade's mask go round in shock and his mouth goes slack. Soft. A moment later, his tongue slides, searching, across his bottom lip. Peter feels a lightning strike of awareness race down his spine and pool in his gut.

"Peter."

"Wade." Peter bristles. "I told you not to use my name when we're—"

"Peter," Wade says again. Lower. Unyielding. "Shut the fuck up for two seconds. Now."

Peter closes his mouth so quickly his teeth click together. The line of Wade's shoulders is so rigid that it looks brittle, as though one quick movement would make him physically snap apart. Peter rarely sees such seriousness from Wade and, truthfully, it worries him, quietly bleeding the last of his irritation from him as two seconds becomes two minutes, becomes two more.

Together, they sit in silence stretched thick and tense, Peter still clutching his half-eaten burrito, Wade with his fists balled atop his thighs. Wade's eyes are open but unseeing, and the rise and fall of his chest is deep and rhythmic. Peter's seen him do it before, a few times, when the voices in Wade's head start screaming so loud he can't think past them; it's an attempt to put himself back into his brain's driver's seat.

A small amount of guilt wriggles beneath Peter's worry. He folds the excess tinfoil over his food and sets it aside. He isn't hungry anymore.

"I am going to give you the opportunity to take that back," Wade says, after a time. His words fall down into his lap; he hasn't looked up since he told Peter to shut up. "Because if you're fucking with me, you tell me, right now. Tell me it's a joke, and we'll laugh about it. Because if you're not serious—"

"I am." Peter interrupts. "Wade, look at me."

Because the thing is.

The thing is.

Peter's thought about it.

About Wade's mouth, his hands, his cock.

Everything about Wade is big. And Peter—who is shorter than the national average and leaner than most—cannot help but be keenly aware of the difference in their sizes. He's thought about it for years, imagining how Wade could completely box him in, how heavy Wade's weight would be atop him, how full Wade's dick would stuff him. Sure, Peter could lift Wade above him with one hand, but it's less about being overpowered and more about being engulfed, cradled or grounded by nothing more than Wade's bulk.

Peter's well aware of the obsession. He's pretty sure it's mutual, considering Wade's preoccupation with his ass and the insane amount of flirting that normally occurs between them, but he's never been sure enough. He hates that it came out like this: something meant to hurt instead of something meant to heal.

"I shouldn't have said it like that," Peter says when Wade tilts his head to the side. Not looking at him directly, no, but enough so Peter can see how carefully blank his expression is. "It wasn't a joke, but I was angry. I mean, I am angry. This means a lot to me and I do need your help, but I shouldn't've... put that out there, like that."

"Well, why not?" Wade says. His voice is still heartbreakingly even. "A little blowie for a little job. Better than a bar of gold to me, baby boy. You know I'm fucking gagging for it."

"In this case I think I'm the one who would be gagging for it," Peter jokes. Then, "Wade. Please. Look at me."

Wade does.

Peter leans towards him and places a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. Wade's textured skin is warm beneath Peter's lips. It isn't how he imagined their first kiss, but it's as dangerous as he knew it would be. Such a small movement, lasting less than a heartbeat, sending a disproportionate wave of heat through Peter's entire body. He begins to pull away and—

One of Wade's hands reaches out and—

Grabs the nape of Peter's neck and—

Hauls him back and—

Wade's mouth is unforgiving on his, closed, pressing so hard that Peter's lips are crushed against his teeth. It's a graceless kiss, bruising. A thin whine rises in Peter's throat as he turns the rest of his body into it, grabbing the straps of Wade's shoulder holsters, fingers desperate to find something to hold onto, to keep him grounded. Just a few, frantic seconds, and Peter already feels undone. Hungry. He shifts his hips, slipping his leans thighs over Wade's legs to crawl into the other man's lap, to bring their bodies close—

Wade yanks himself away, breathing hard.

"No," Wade says, hoarsely. "No no no, not now. Not when you're mad at me though—Jesus fucking Christ, don't think I'm not like, half-chubbed up in my fucking cup thinking about you glaring at me while you blow me. Holy shit, that's like, at least twenty percent of my credit line at the spank bank."

"Wade," Peter begs, his head spinning.

"I know, baby boy, I know," Wade croons. He pushes a thumb to the indent beneath Peter's swollen lip, other fingers curled under Peter's chin. "But if we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it later, after the job, when we can get a pillow under your knees and I can see your pretty eyes. You understand?"

"You want me to take my mask off," Peter elaborates.

"I want you naked," Wade clarifies, his voice going low again. "Wanna see how cute you are, how far those freckles go down. Wanna see how red your cheeks get and how you cry when you choke on my cock. Those are my terms. Capice?"

Peter inhales shakily at the mental image, eyes fluttering shut. Him, on his knees, between Wade's massive thighs, struggling to take Wade's cock while Wade's scarred fingers fist in his hair. It will be the first time Wade will see him completely; not just the lower half of his face, mask pulled over his nose, or his bare hand when he takes off his glove to fine tune his web-shooter, but all of him. It's a daunting prospect. Of course it is. Only a handful of people know that Peter Parker and Spiderman are the same person. Can he trust Wade Wilson to be one of those people?

The answer comes quickly.

Yes.

He can.

In truth, over the past five years, Peter has been giving Wade small pieces of himself. Pieces of Spiderman and pieces of Peter. He finds that he's not actually scared of letting Wade see the whole of him. He might still be wary of owing Deadpool a favor—sensibility is not the mercenary's most well-known character trait—but he knows, to his bones, that he can trust Wade, the man, with this. With him.

This is not how I expected tonight to go, Peter thinks mirthfully. Aloud, he says, "When I get what I need, and I get it to Matt, I'll text you my address."

"Fuck me, baby boy," Wade hisses. His big hands, still on Peter's body, tighten briefly, then relax. "Are you absolutely, red-100-underline-underline emoji sure?"

"Been thinking about it, for awhile. Haven't you?"

"Since the day you swung into my life."

"Then you have your answer." Bravely, Peter leans in to bump his nose against Wade's. "I'll text you the details."

Wade rubs their noses together before pulling away. Peter unhooks his fingers from Wade's shoulder holsters and climbs out of Wade's lap, standing on the ledge and taking a step back. The places where they had been touching are unexpectedly cold. Peter quickly tugs his mask back down over his mouth and throat before he's tempted to do something foolish, like climb right back into Wade's arms.

"Tomorrow night," Peter says.

"Tomorrow," Wade answers.

Peter salutes as he lets himself fall off the rooftop. Gravity tugs him down and—fleetingly—he experiences the exhilarating weightlessness of free fall. Then he fires his web-shooter and swings away, the rush of air around him unable to disguise Wade's loud whoop of triumph.

Behind his mask, Peter smiles.

Part 2

#spideypool #spiderman #deadpool #peter parker #wade wilson #rating: e #pairing: wade wilson/peter parker

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hellonpluto · 1 month

Text

Spider-Man 2 (2004) during-the-movie notes!!! Goofy shit under the cut :]

Spider-Man 2 notes

-once again whipping out the banger intro sequence, this time with more colors being used and better transitions

-peter!!! Ur fuckin late peter!!! Gahd.

-pizza ....

-broom closet scene is so silly

-boyfail pt 2

-pizza time(you can kill me)

-pizza time again bc oughhhhh pizza time

-pizza ROLL time in a minute actually(gonna make pizza rolls)

-"ill give you 150." "300." "Thats outrageous! Done."

-desk lady is now nicer! Yay!

-osborn would be proud. He would

-OCTAVIUS???? who's octavius

-"..ben? Oh, peter..." aunt MAYYYYYYYY

-is 20 dollars alot? What year is this set in. Am i stupid

-when peter knocked on the restroom door my dog perked his head up like "huh? What?"

-peter is getting shat on in this one. Like what the fuck

-"eeehhh rosie i love this boy!"

-this movie is making my inner 'getting shit done' want to beat peter up. Reduce time as spiderman, or try and encourage others to be better. Sit down, set a timer for 2 hours to get college work done. Then work. Bud.

-run past the evil landlord guy

-get those carnations for yo NOT GIRL

-"how'd you do that?" "Uh.. work out, plenty of rest. Yknow, eat ur green vegetables?" "Thats what my mom is always sayin'! I just never actually believed her!"

-pider man.....

-🤨 towards street lady

-i honestly think the older suit looks cool

-spiderman. In elevator

-its giving elevator scene from neon genesis

-holy shit its so awkward

-doculous oculous. In the house

-mans could just admit he wanted to wear a fucked up corset but ok

-bro is just showing off his evil lair crap n nobody bats an eye

-"the power of the sun... in the palm of my hand." Girl ok slay

-system unstable? More lik... system of a down

-"he humiliated me by touching me." He saved yo life harry

-horror movie ass scene in the surgery room

-lowkey fire tho

-they act like pet snakes

-"dr. Strange. Thats good! Its already in use."

-dr octopus....

-bro i love how they did the arms. They're so cool

-cool ass doc ock shot

-what the fuck

-shoutout to aunt may for stopping the guy from stealing

-eating the cinematography up rn

-aunt may slaying in this movie, actually

-let peter rest!!!! Let that man sleeep!!!!!

-newspaper man is best character ngl

-peter caught fumbling part a billion

-harry. Wtf. Thats ur lover

-beeber barker loses powers

-bro is just peter parker

-this is so fuckjng sad what

-he did his homework!!!! Yay!!!

-"peter. Im getting married." Ive heard that before

-spiderman no more...

-doc ock

-sorry its 12 am

-pov u save little girl from fire but someone else dies

-mystery girl is so cute

-chocolate cake break

-do a flip!!!!!

-"my back!!! Ough ... my back....."

-why is she recreating the upside-down kiss with her fiance 😭😭😭

-mj knows. I think

-peter pick a fuckin struggle

-please

-oml

-peter looks like he has more lip gloss on than mj

-doc ock is def trans

-anyways

-Doc ock? More like. Do cock

-ANWYAYS

-"did he just grab his BOOBS??" (rewinds a bit) "oh no its just his shoulders... ok"

-THE TRAIN SCENE OMG

-"He's... just a kid"

-OUFGHHH

-"we wont tell nobody."

-HOOPLAHHH

-"HE'S MINE!!" Man what

-"run!" Proceeds to stand there

-doc ock is so cool man

-ew i forgot mj exists

-MB MB MB

-"i will not die a monster." BANGER AFTER BANGER AFTER BANGER

-doc ock niooooo.... NOOOOOO

-harry wtf

-mj runs away from wedding! Everyone is disappointed!

-"cant you respect me enough to make my own decision?" Girl respect his. He doesnt want u to get hurt, dingus

-WHAT

-ew

-ew. Ew

-ugh

-blue eyes white dragon(pt 2)

-banger ending song version of the amazing spiderman song

-good movie!!! 8-9/10. Rlly good!!

#spiderman 2 #tobey maguire #peter parker #doc ock #doctor octavius #mary jane watson #harry osborn #aunt may #j. jonah jameson #thats what newspaper guy's name is? ok #marvel #spiderman #rosie octavius #is that correct? idk #sam scriptures

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surwitch · 5 months

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Peter Quill know how sucks when something fuck up. And Peter Parker looks really fucked up. Matt Murdock just want moment of peace.

[eng is not my first languadge soooo sorry if it is a mess. it happens somewhere after nwh and gotg3, but before born again, because i wrote it when news about series was like "oh, yea, we re-write daredevil" so yea. i go from there. have fun.] tw: mention of blood, non grafic, but here

now in ao3 too: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55686070

Peter Quill know how sucks when something fuck up.

He just know, you know? With this whole "my father is a planet, my dad space-pirate die to save me, my girlfriend died and then come back but it was not her but her from another universe" thing in his life. And oh, yes, live all his life don't knowing that people invented spotify. Literal, fucking, crime. Why no one tell him? But yes, to the point: he, the Star-Lord, see a misery when he meet one.

And, you know, Peter is just bored. Earth is… fine. Very chill. Some aliens one-two times in several months, villians of the week who stop metro (like it not bad enough at the good days). And living with his grandpa was cool, but Peter was born for a big city. City that like the space - city that moving and never stops. So, Peter here, in the center of all hell on Earth (with how many shit happened here at past few years), in the New York. And well, happy accident, and he's here, in coffee shop with overpriced coffee looking at some tragedy, really.

Peter Parker (whos name Quill sees wathing at guy fresh license that falls out of his pocket) looks really fucked up.

(Peter hates that there another Peter because when he tries to think it make a mess in his head. Parker. Parker is good.)

Like, no, boy is not ugly, but, uh, you get it. He had eyes of the sad little pet and they look like they always wet. He has atmosphere like boy from rom-coms who run in the rain for hours with words in the end of his tongue only to forget them all by looking at person that he ran to.

Parker look pathetic as fuck, buying another coffee (that he never drink, what a shame) and never anything else. And he's always look like he knows something about girl who works here ("my friend's call's me MJ" tells she to Quill one day, "And you, creep, comes here enough to count as one." and then she turn on another 70's hit when he's laugh to his death), but MJ never talk about him. She didn't even looks like she knows him more than client and Peter know that this woman not lie.

And boy Parker looks like someone kill his parrot. Every. Fucking. Time.

Oh God, if this another drama with "my girlfriend but not my girlfriend" then its a blessing that Peter catch Parker. He's the Star Lord, he can help with this kind of situation. And this look more funnier than looking at New York streets for vintage stores (Peter hates that all his favorite stuff is vintage now. It costs like a airplane. Or good space-gun.)

Peter Quill know how sucks when something fuck up. And he'll find a way to help this Parker boy with some strange shit between him, MJ and cool guy Ned. Ned is cool. Peter just need to figure out how make Parler "cool" and not "sad". But he'll find a way.

Matt Murdock just want moment of peace.

And between being a vigilante and trying to live a normal lawyer life it's… difficult. Sometimes with "blood in his mouth in the middle of the court hearing" type of difficult. So having this little loud man around not make it easier.

Matt heard how people call him Spider-Man ("The dash is very important" a boy once enlightened him on a roof. He was tapping his foot on the roof, and Matt could hear it slightly shaking the iron sheet that covered the air conditioners at the other end of the roof.) and he's meets him himself.

Boy sound like a nice one. Young. And sad.

Normal teen combination. Still Matt doesn't feel's like it right for this teenager specifically. So, he'd did what he do a lot - become a idiot (At least is what Jen said to him. Sometimes she's reminded him of Foggy.)

And patrolling the boundaries of Hell Kitchen, crossing paths with a guy more often, Matt can admit that he is good. Very much so: the kid knows when to restrain blows, when to strike them, and how to talk to people so that criminals fear him and civilians trust him ("Sometimes it helps that some criminals believe that I killed Mysterio," Spidey tells him one day, "But me… I didn't kill him, you know?.." and Matt nodded confidently at him, because Spidey's heart wasn't lying.)

And Matt did that disgusting thing that he's not allowed to do. He became attached. And Matt hated getting attached.

Oh God, Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph, just give him a peaceful death.

His whole story showed him how easily affection can turn into something at your throat. (Even Jane beat the shit out of him once, and he gritted his teeth and sometimes called her a friend. In my head. But he did.) Thanks, he didn't like it.

And Spidey is a teenager. Maybe a little older, just entering adulthood. But the guy is so much like him: he's just trying to do the right thing in a way that he's found and that works. Even if this way makes him sad.

It just how he feels every day. Permanently sad. Apathetic. Dreary. (Matt thinks about how Foggy would laugh at the fact that he's worried about it in another person when he's the same himself.)

Matt Murdock just want moment of peace. But with kid, who's blood already attached to his couch, it seems impossible. Not like Matt has a lot of believers in fact that if kid doesn't was here he'll gonna find peace but. Let man have a dream.

("I have a good friend once. We don't talk now." say's Spider-Man and Matt get it. Vigilante life sucks in this case: when you know, that there's a people, who search for you, and if you have someone "normal" around these people gonna go for them. He became estranged from Foggy for this reason. His number still in Matt's phone.)

And maybe one day he's find peace. Even if it will be a little moment when beeps are going off in phone and he hears the same beeps going on in Spidey's phone.

One day. Just for a couple minute. Not now.

Now Matt figuring out what the fuck (Forgive him, Lord) he need to do with a kid in blood on his couch. But, um, he'll figuring it out. Somehow.

[this just some shit from my notes that i wrote right after gotg vol3. this just some shit from my notes that i wrote right after gotg vol3. sadly, i dont have enough skill of writing in english to make it something bigger (like actual fic, yk?) or i just don't feel muself confident enough to do something big in eng. maybe this. soooooooo take it, have fun and please write me if you want to use this idea. i think its hilarious scenario. sincerely, your surwitch. she/her.]

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monaisme · 20 hours

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Sicktember: Day 20

#20- Medication Bribery

Stephen tried to be inconspicuous while he flexed his fingers as he walked down the hallway of the still bustling medical facility. At least it was easier to do now that the chaos of the last twelve hours had started to settle. The Wakandans had been an absolute gift and had managed to take care of the majority of those wounded at the compound/battlefield with an efficiency Stephen only dreamed of for the hospitals back home, but there were still things to do, and so everyone was on the move.

The exhaustion made his managing the pain all the more difficult, and for a brief moment, he considered popping back to the Sanctum and taking his pain meds, but no. There was too much still to do. He needed to stay sharp and focussed. He just wished—

“Doctor Strange, could I bother you a moment?” The doctor asked.

Startled by the unexpected call, he hoped his wince of pain came across as more of a surprised jolt. He schooled his grimace into a professional smile. “Of course, what can I do for you?”

She was quick to explain, “I’ve just gotten word of a concern and am hoping that you have enough familiarity with the individual in question that you can be of help to us.”

Stephen’s brow furrowed in immediate concern, his pain forgotten. “I’ll do whatever I can, but Tony’s barely out of surgery? How can he be causing problems already?”

She shook her head, “I’m speaking of someone else, Doctor. The young son of Mr. Stark; he is refusing to leave the man, and while he holds himself cautiously, we have been unable to determine if he requires treatment or not.”

He had to concentrate for a moment to place who she was talking about, and then it clicked. “Are we talking about Peter Parker?” Stephen asked but didn’t correct the relationship. He hadn’t thought of him since he’s caught a glimpse of Hawkeye placing a field dressing on him while the worst of the wounded were being transported to their current location via portals.

“Yes, we had originally hoped he’d allow one of our staff to treat him during Mr. Stark’s surgery, but instead he has sat vigil outside of the medical suite. Even now, he continues to do so, which is noble but I grow worried that we will run into complications if he is left to himself much longer.”

Stephen sighed, “That boy followed Tony into space five years ago. This doesn’t surprise me at all. Now,” he stepped back and nodded his agreement, “If you’ll show me where our young spider is, I’ll see what I can do.”

/-/-/

Even in Wakanda, the risk of exposure to anything of a radioactive nature warranted concern, and as such, the long trek to an older, unused section of the facility made absolute sense in order to treat Tony’s injuries. Stephen’s feet, however, disagreed, not that he’d complain.

“How did the kid even get down here?” Stephen had to ask as they passed a desk that looked very much like a security check point.

“The rest of the Avengers were immediately brought to a separate wing of the facility for treatment and to debrief with King T’Challa. As far as we can gather, he was simply left behind and then somehow managed to track Mr. Stark down here.”

“And your security just allowed him to pass?”

The doctor only shrugged. “The child was recognized as one of your warriors, and we assumed one of the other Avengers would come to check on Mr. Stark and collect him before too long—Not one has come for him or Mr. Stark.” She looked sad as she added, “He’s been in the hallway for approximately eleven hours. We did bring him some clothing, and a recliner to rest in after he initially refused to leave, and there is a treatment cart prepared nearby in the event that we need to intervene... we can see that he is obviously trying to hide his discomfort.”

“And you’ve just left him in the hallway?” Stephen was trying to make sense of it.

“We had no choice. Mr. Starks’s initials scans showed remarkable levels of radioactivity all through his body. Having him come in would have required sanitizing protocols and personal protective equipment simply to get him into the room and we didn’t have the time or luxury. Levels are finally falling to safer levels now that the main...” she paused, then, “issue has been dealt with, but we still have to worry about sterile fields and infection risks. With him continuing to refuse any treatment, the boy is simply stuck.”

Stephen had known from the onset that Tony would have a long road to recovery ahead of him, and had heard whisperings about the amputation.

Stephen started cataloguing a list of physiotherapists to recommend and then stopped himself.

Tony was currently safe and tended to, but for Peter, it had been eleven hours. “And no one else has been to see Mr. Stark or check on his status, at least?”

She only shook her head, ‘no.’

“What about Pepper Stark?”

“Our last update indicated that she was needed to coordinate several aspects of the clean up effort at your compound in New York. She was here only long enough to give us permission to treat her husband before a man, Thaddeus Ross, I believe, came through and pulled her away.” She shook her head in distaste. “We have been in communication with her, and once the situation has been appropriately delegated, she and her daughter will make their way back to Wakanda. In fact, one of your sorcerers has made himself available for when she and her family are available to travel... a Mr. Wong, I believe?”

“Hm.” Stephen was appreciative of Wong’s consideration for the Starks. Yeah, he and Tony definitely had their differences, but no one deserved to be dragged from a loved one’s bedside at a time like this. As for the other Avengers, well, he had some thoughts. Regardless, “And I’m personally only hearing about this now because?”

“I am aware that you’ve been as busy as the rest of us for these many hours, Doctor Strange.” She replied sternly. “Now that the worst of our cases have been dealt with, I had assumed you’d be anxious to step away for some much needed sleep. We, well, I had hoped you could take charge of our young friend and convince him to allow for an examination and treatment.”

Stephen wasn’t sure sleep would be in his future, not with his nerve pain flaring so badly, but he knew he could at least accept temporary custody of Peter while they all figured out their new futures. He owed the kid that much, and so he replied, “Of course, Doctor. I’ll do my best to help,” as they turned into another corridor.

“I have seen your work today. I know you will.” She stopped and gestured toward the lone form situated about halfway down the hallway. “With that, I will leave you to your young charge, Doctor Strange. If we do not cross paths again before you leave Wakanda, it was an honour to work with you.” The doctor crossed her arms across her chest and bowed slightly.

Stephen recognized it and reciprocated. “Thank you,” he replied simply. “The honour is mine.”

With that said, his doctor-guide nodded, turned, and disappeared back toward the main building— leaving Stephen Strange to make his way down the hall to one Peter Benjamin Parker.

He could do this.

Besides, they’d developed something of a rapport, he thought to himself, especially after Ebony Maw and their time on the Q-Ship. And he’d only gotten the sense that Peter was a good kid. Honestly, he had to be good to do the things that he did day in and day out. Granted, it was five years later, and they had been trapped inside of an infinity stone for that long, but still. Trauma was supposed to bring people together, right? Stephen knew he’d read a journal article about that at some point.

He probably should have paid closer attention to percentages.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Peter spoke quietly as his new temporary guardian approached.

Well then, “I haven’t said anything yet. What makes you think I’m going to ask you to leave?”

“Super-hearing.

Stephen ran through what he’d said on his way to the kid, relieved that his fatigue had softened his sometimes too sharp tongue at least, and nodded. “That’s good to know.”

“And I’m fine, so you don’t need to worry about me anyways. I understood about the whole sterile field thing and infection risk so I’m not fighting you—or anyone on that, I just—”

Stephen waited patiently for him to finish his thought.

“I, uh—” Peter couldn’t seem to finish his thought. He closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Stephen stepped closer, “Peter?” Everyone, including the kid, looked like hot, exhausted garbage, but something was wrong.

Peter drew in what was obviously intended to be a deep breath, but it cut short with a gasp then a cough, then he doubled over as he clutched at the side Stephen had seen Hawkeye taking care of. “Ngh.”

With Peter’s eyes now closed to the pain, Stephen didn’t waste energy masking his own as he crouched in front of him, assessing. “Peter? Can you tell me what’s wrong.”

Peter didn’t answer.

Without asking permission, Stephen grasped Peter’s wrist, only to find a racing pulse... and heat. “Shit.” With his other hand, he pressed the back of his hand to Peter’s forehead. The boy was on fire.

Knowing he was busted, Peter glared at the man in front of him. “I’m fine.” He yanked his hand away, flinching at the movement. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Stephen clenched his jaw to keep himself from snapping at him for his stupidity. Instead, he looked up and down the hallway, hoping that someone... anyone would magically appear who could give him a hand in treating him.

“I don’t think many people come down here, Dr. Strange.” Peter said simply. “Sorry.”

Stephen exhaled hard, “If you were sorry, you’d let me treat you.”

“I said I’m—”

“Yes, yes, you’re fine. I know, sitting here in an apparently technology free hallway with no way to get help...” he caught sight of the treatment cart a few meters away. “Hang on.”

He grunted as he did it, but Stephen pushed himself up using the arms of Peter’s recliner and rushed over to the cart, dragging it back quickly. “I’m assuming that you’ve developed an infection from whatever wound it was that Hawkeye took care of back at the compound, am I correct?”

Peter’s pale cheeks flushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t. Now,” he fumbled through the one of the drawers, familiar enough with item placement after all the stitching he’d done today, “There you are,” he snatched something triumphantly and then commanded, “Stay still.” He placed a thermometer strip on Peter’s forehead and then lifted up the side of Peter’s sweatshirt to reveal a battle worn Spider-man uniform. “Okay, Peter, how do we get the spidersuit off of you so I can get at your wound?”

Peter stayed silent.

“Alright,” Maybe his regular temperament had only been hiding? “Decision made.” Stephen snapped on a pair of sterile gloves before painfully grasping the pair of trauma shears sitting atop the cart and snipping them in the air for effect. “Cutting it all off it is.”

Peter paled more, if that was even possible. “Please don’t?” He tugged at the hem of his top. “I’ll get it off then, just let me—”

It was Stephen’s turn to gasp as his fingers punished him for tormenting the boy. In a flash, the shears clattered to the floor and Stephen had fisted his trembling hands against the pain.

“Doctor Strange!?” Peter had shifted forward on his seat, trying to figure out how to help. “What’s going on?”

Ever the professional, Stephen’s mask was on again in moments. “It’s nothing. I apologize for that. It’s been a long day for all of us.” He shook his hands out and tried to switch the focus back to Peter and the thermometer strip that was now very much indicating a significant fever. “Now, tell me again how well you’re feeling?”

Now, Stephen should have known better than to jinx himself with all of his big talk about Peter being a good kid, as Peter’s mood flipped scowled and, looking Dr. Strange dead in the eye, replied back. “I don’t know, Doctor Strange? How are you feeling?”

How much time had Tony spent with this kid?

Not that he was at all worried about it. Stephen had spent a lifetime around difficult people.

“That’s not relevant at this particular moment,” he answered back calmly. “I think the greater concern is your fever of,” Stephen cast a glance at Peter’s forehead, “39.2°C, and what I’m guess at this point is also the start of septicemia? Unless there’s something else you’d like to tell me?” His brow furrowed in concern. “Can you at least tell me what your pain level is at?”

Peter shook his head in refusal. “I’m not leaving.”

Stephen was growing a little frustrated. “I’m not asking you to leave. I’m asking about your pain.”

Peter said nothing.

The mantle of Doctor Strange, neurosurgeon at Metro-General Hospital was settling around his shoulders for the umpteenth time that day. “Peter. I’m not comfortable with you sitting here getting sicker and sicker when you are literally surrounded by everything we need to correct this.” He glanced at Peter’s forehead again. 39.3°C.

Shit.

“Peter, please?” Even this sick and injured, there was no way Stephen could restrain the superhero vigilante and force him to be treated.

But Peter was teetering on the edge of giving in as he pleaded with Stephen. He could see it.

“I can’t leave him alone, Doctor Strange. Don’t you understand? I need to protect him...”

Wait. What?

“Tony? Who do you need to protect him from?”

Peter eyes filled with tears as he whispered, “From them.”

In a heartbeat, Stephen had placed his sling ring on his damaged fingers and steadied himself for a fight. He’d seen Peter’s spidey-sense on the ship, understood that there was some sort of innate precognition—except, as he looked both up and down the hallway, that there was no one there. He looked back at Peter, confused. “I don’t understand?”

The tears finally fell, “I have to protect Mr. Stark from the others! Gah!” Peter looked like he was ready to explode. “FRIDAY showed me Siberia right before our MOMA field trip and I saw how bad they hurt him, Doctor Strange! They just left him to die, and now they’re right here, in this building! And they could show up anytime they want! And now Captain America has a hammer AND a shield, so that’s, like double weapons for him and I can’t—” He caught a quick breath, “They don’t even care about him, and Ms. Potts is Mrs. Stark now so I’d trust her, but she’s not even here. And then I can’t even put his suit on him to keep him safe ‘cuz I don’t have tools to fix it! And I don’t recognize what Mark his suit even is! And I broke my suit and—It’s been five years and there’s no one else here who can do what I can, Doctor Strange. I have to keep Mr. Stark safe!” At the end of his word jumble, Peter exhaled slowly and then promptly burst into sobs, still stuttering out with each breath, “I have to—I have to—”

Stephen struggled to keep up with what Peter had been trying to say, but got the gist of it, not that it was the priority as he pocketed his ring once more and pressed a firm hand to Peter’s shoulder. “You’re okay, Peter,” he promised. “I understand now.”

And that was exactly what Peter needed to hear as he threw his arms around Stephen’s waist—or tried. A cry of pain escaped and Peter’s facade was crumbling—fast.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Stephen placed his other hand on Peter’s back and with a gently nudge, helped him to lie back in the recliner that he’d expertly set back. “Can I take a look at this now, Peter? I promise I can keep watch for you while I do.”

“But you’re hurt, too!” Peter gasped. “I can’t—”

“It’s fine. Okay? I’m used to it.”

Peter shook his head ‘no.’ “But—”

“But nothing, Spider-Man!” Stephen needed to snap him out of his spiral. “I need you to hear me, okay?”

It worked, and Peter nodded.

“You’ve seen what I can do, right? Remember on Titan? I’ve never relied on the physical, Peter. You know that a little pain in my hands isn’t going to stop me if a threat shows up!”

Peter thought about it, then nodded again.

“Now, trust me, Peter. Please?”

Peter’s eyes closed and finally replied, “Okay.”

“Good boy,” Stephen crooned as he stepped away to collect the trauma shears still lying on the floor. “We’re going to do some cutting, but I promise you, I’ll keep it to a minimum if I can, and then you and Tony can fix this together, okay? It’ll be fine.” Stephen closed his eyes and prayed silently that he wasn’t a liar.

Peter nodded again as Stephen came back, a little less desperately. “Okay.”

Stephen smiled down at him as he made quick work of the sweatshirt and then spidersuit. “There we go,” he murmured as he cast a quick glance at the thermometer strip again. The fever was high and holding steady. “Now let’s get this bandaging moved out of the way and see what kind of a hack job Hawkeye did?” Stephen pulled back the bulky pad and gulped, then looked up and glanced about again, hoping for someone to miraculously appear to help them. There was no one.

Stephen took a deep breath and then released it slow.

“Well then,” It was time to have a conversation. “We have a bit of a situation here.”

Peter was confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that this infection is pretty serious.” Stephen couldn’t keep his eyes off of the twenty centimetre gash that ran up Peter’s side, literally busting with infection at the seams of the rudimentary stitches Hawkeye had done and framed a hot, angry red with even redder dots speckling about it. “I can’t even imagine what sort of crap was on whatever weapon did this,” Stephen waved a hand over the wound. “I’m going to have to reopen this and clean it out, and it’s going to hurt—a lot. We’re definitely going to have to put you out for this.”

Peter’s eyes widened as he tried to sit up, “But you said you—!”

Stephen stopped his movement. “I know what I said, and I meant it. I’ll keep watch, but I’m going to need someone to help if I’m going to help you.”

“No!” Peter’s eyes widened. “You can’t ask—!”

“Peter.”Stephen cut him off before he could get worked up more, “I will definitely not ask any of the Avengers, but I do have my friend, Wong. I don’t think you’ve met him officially, but he’s the one that will be getting Mrs. Stark, remember? You heard about him earlier? When I was with the other doctor?”

He looked hesitant. “Uh huh?”

“If you give me a second, I can have him here so I can do what I need to do while he keeps guard. And, if you’re really concerned, I’ll have you know that he’s the one who trained me and I’m a total badass.”

Peter huffed a quiet laugh. “It doesn’t even matter. Regular drugs don’t work on me ‘cuz of the mutation—it’ll have to keep till we can get back to the...” He’d been about the say the compound, but then remembered. “Um, it’ll take forever to find something that would work.” He tried to hide his hopelessness, “I’ll be—”

Stephen was done. “39.4°C, Peter. That is what you’re temperature is sitting at. It is too high and rising. I’m pretty certain you’re some kid genius like your boss, and I’d be most grateful if I could not be known as the guy that let you boil your brain.”

“But I’m not lying about the drugs, though!” Peter was getting defensive. “Ask—” Peter stopped short of finishing his sentence.

Stephen let the slip go unacknowledged. He was too busy trying to come up with a solution—and then he remembered his earlier conversation. “Wait a minute. Steve Rogers was treated today and he’s a super soldier, right? And I’d wager a guess that the Wakandans had to synthesize something that would work for him. If we could track some of that surplus down—get Wong to bring it— would it work for you? Do you know?” Not that Stephen loved counting on a complex medical history provided by a sixteen year old, but it was all they could do.

“I’m pretty sure it would?” He didn’t sound sure. “I know that Mr. Stark used it as a jumping point, but...”

“But nothing! We’ll jump, too.” Stephen ran a hand through Peter’s hair for comfort. “Stark wouldn’t have risked your safety, and I’d rather get this done sooner rather than later.”

Peter was hesitant.

“Look, let’s make a deal. If you let me do this, I’ll get Stark to buy you a car, sound good? He seems like that kind of a guy to me—tell me that I’m wrong?”

Peter remembered the first... and second time Tony had offered him exactly that. “Nope. Can’t.”

“Great,” the sling ring came out yet again, “Now, you’re going to recognize the portal—but I’m not going anywhere. I promised, right? You simply get to see the convenience of how sorcerers live with not having cell phones.”

/-/-/

Tony opened his eyes again and looked over to the bed on the right of his as best he could.

As frustrating as it was that they hadn’t managed to be awake at the same time yet, there was still a comfort in seeing his Peter, calm, resting, and alive.

And it took away some of the sting of what he knew was missing under the mass of bandages at his shoulder.

A throat cleared, drawing Tony’s attention to the door of their room.

“I know this is probably a bad time to mention this, but you owe the kid a car.” Stephen Strange announced as he took a few tentative steps inside. “I’ll keep reminding you, though.”

“Anything,” Tony rasped.

Stephen winced in sympathy and came to Tony’s bedside. “Here,” he grabbed Tony’s water glass from the side table and held the straw steady as he sipped his fill.

“Thanks,” Tony mustered and then tried to glance around the room. “Pepper?”

Stephen smiled as he simply replied, “She’s sitting out in the hallway for a bit.” He took in the numbers flashing on the monitors around Tony’s head. “I’m glad to see that you’re doing so well. Peter’s excited to get back into the lab with you.”

Tony blinked slow, the damned exhaustion taking over faster than he’d have hoped. “Good—love ‘im,” he grunted.

“I can understand why,” Stephen agreed, then patted Tony’s good hand. “But you rest now, okay? We three are keeping watch over the both of you, okay?”

He’d have nodded if the burns to the side of his neck weren’t feeling so fresh, Stephen suspected, but Tony seemed content enough to slip off into sleep and that was good enough for him.

He remembered exactly how exhausting healing could be.

Stephen stepped around Tony’s bed to Peter’s, taking the time to check Peter’s vitals as well. It had been a close thing, in the end, and Stephen would be forever grateful to Wong for pandering to the whim of an emotionally overwrought superhero that carried too much weight on such slim shoulders—even though the little shit had tattled on him about his own pain once Wong rushed through that first portal with Pepper Stark to see what was wrong.

“Doctor Strange?” Pepper called from the doorway. “Wong would like to know if you’d like him to prepare something for you to eat for when you get back to take your medication.”

Stephen just chuckled. “Did he open up another portal from the Sanctum to ask you to do that?”

Pepper blinked innocently at the man. “I can neither confirm nor deny that, but Morgan cannot wait for Peter to meet your cloak friend.”

#Sicktember 2024 #Day Twenty: Medication Bribery #Day 20 #Hurt/Comfort #Irondad & Spiderson #Peter Parker & Doctor Strange #Post Engdame #everyone lives/nobody dies

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itmeblog · 6 months

Text

X-Men '97 is a full on soap opera and trying to explain the plot three episodes in has got me like

And like, you have to understand, I'm very much a Spiderman person (At least volumes 2 - 4.2 ish, yes I'm very upset they nerfed the Black Cat arc and decided to go Peter Parker = Iron Man and maybe they fixed it but I wouldn't know.) Most of the information I know is from brief cross-overs (In one universe Parker dates Pryde for a bit) and like info dumps from the autistic community (your service is appreciated). Which means a lot of people think I'm a fan and I've held my own against a "so you're a real fan prove it" bro but, and I cannot stress this enough, I do not go here.

SPOILERS

So I'm just sitting at the diner table trying to explain to my mother that it probably is possible to figure out how old a clone is by the proteins in their blood but probably not as fast as Beast did it and that it sounded like he was using the half-life of nuclear isotopes to do so which is questionable but might be viable. BUT none of that matters because Scott fucked the clone because he has no idea when his wife got switched out (so at least 9 months passed, THEY HAVE NOT YET EXPLAINED WHERE THE ORIGINAL GREY HAS BEEN OR WHY SHE PASSED OUT ON THE DOORSTEP) and the clone that realizes she's a clone goes all Phoenix in less than an hour and gives their baby to some bro named Sinister who gives the baby (who will become Cable, Deadpool's unwilling boy toy) a cybernetic virus that somehow turns people into ???? and kills them (somehow this was supposed to make cable invincible he wanted Grey and Scott's DNA to make a powerful li'l... weapon of war, I guess?). And they have this fight and when Pheonix is about to kill Scott, Grey reminds her that she watched her best friend get killed by a car to awaken her powers. And that there is sadness and light in the world so why not stop being evil and save the damn baby! WHICH WORKS?!?! So they save the baby but have to send it 100 years into the future (one of their friends is a stranded time traveler who can go home one time?? presumably??) where there's a cure. Oh yeah and Storm lost her powers in an assassination attempt for Magneto that took place at the UN because he was standing trial for his... y'know, terrorism?, and he wanted a clean slate as Charles (maybe dead? Possibly just off on his own adventures??) runs the X-Men, there's some Portuguese dude with the power of the sun who may be sort of dating Dazzler who is now closer to a pyrokinetic? There was a scene of Rogue draping herself off Magneto's 70s style GILF body because apparently that's a fear Gambit has. Wolverine is just sort of there?! Oh the Portuguese dude was rescued from a mutant trafficking... group(?) with sentinel technology? But like... only the arms? There's a rave.

I'm sure I'm forgetting some things but like... yeah... there's 3 episodes out so that's in like... the first hour in a half

Oh and like... obvi Cyclops and Grey's relationship is in shambles as it should be SCOTT.

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ghosts-and-blue-sweaters · 1 year

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Character ask!

Tommy! (I'm about 93% sure he's a character in DSMP 😬)

1, 2, 3, 7, 14, 20, 27, 30

Oh yes, he’s definitely a character :D He’s actually probably the most main character in DSMP 😅

My first impression of them

I don’t think I liked him very much 😅

I thought he was too much, and too loud and made too many rowdy jokes, and was just… a lot. It took me a bit to warm up to the guy.

When I think I truly started to like them (or dislike them, if you've sent me a character I don't like)

I can’t really place the exact moment I started liking him, because I think it was more of a gradual thing; slowly, the more I watched him and learned about him and watched his story progress, I found myself… coming around :) He started to grow on me.

Now I think he’s really funny, and he makes me smile a bunch, and he’s also super caring and loves so hard and is overall a sweet guy (who is still very loud and very Much and makes rowdy jokes, but I’ve grown to appreciate him for it XD)

A song that reminds me of them

!!!

SO MANY

Trouble by Matthew S Nelson

Role Models by AJR

Living My Best Life by Paper Kings

(I have a whole hekkin 30 hour playlist ajsgaksga)

A quote of them that you remember

Tommy has a lot of great quotes, actually :) He’s a very good talker.

“I’m not a broken record. If anything, I’m a sturdy record.”

“He’s like Toy Story, but vigorously more offensive.”

“In Pogtopia, you weren’t… kind.”

“I don’t like who I am when I’m around you, Dream.”

“I’m so rich that I’m poor. I flip my hair back and say that.”

Best storyline they had

OOOOH

I really liked the whole Thing he had going on with Wilbur (crime boys my beloveds) and I also adore the friendship he had with Ghostbur.

But honestly, Exile might be my favorite arc he had. It was sad and hard to watch but so good.

A weird headcanon

Ehehehe >:)

He’s got a scar running across his middle finger (he likes that one)

If they could meet a character from another show/movie/etc, who would be the most fun for them to meet?

Gosh, there’s so many possibilities-

I kinda want him to meet Peter Parker from Spiderman XD

The funniest scene they had?

DUDE SO MANY!!!

Gosh… maybe during pre-L’manburg days, when he was doing that drug business with Wilbur alsgaksgkaf that was pretty funny XD

#ask #ask game answers #my DSMP thoughts

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kittybellestark · 4 years

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Hi I’m having sad boi hours so I thought I’d write Peter going thru it too. Idk man

Trigger warning: thoughts of suicide

Peter was having a really good day. A great day even. Today was going perfectly, even better than expected.

First he woke up before his alarm. And he felt fully refreshed. So he made breakfast for himself and May (cereal, but with fruit on top, that he cut himself). And then on the way to school he found $50 just laying there. There was no one around when he tried to find the person who lost the money. Flash was also sick today, so that meant a torment free day, which was just exciting, and the lunch lady even gave him an extra meatball!!

Everything was going great. Overall a super good day. Until his heart twisted and his stomach dropped and Peter felt empty. He was two seconds away from crying and the world felt heavy. For no good reason. Peter kept a smile on his face, and laughed at all the appropriate times, but he was tired. Emotionally exhausted.

And there was still so much more day.

He was supposed to go to the lab and work with Mr. Stark. Today was also a patrol day, he’d already finished all his homework.

But Peter couldn’t do it.

Peter needed to go home. And lay in bed. Sad boi hours have hit him. And they’ve hit really hard on what should be a great day.

The world was out for him. That had to be the only explaination for the sudden turn of emotions.

So Peter texted Tony.

Hey not feeling right today ,,, gonna go home instead sorry. :( see you Friday instead.

Tony sent a thumbs up, and Peter was glad that his absence wouldn’t affect his mentor any. But it just felt like another stab through the heart.

At the end of the day when Peter was leaving Midtown, head phones on, and hood over his head, choosing to wait until everyone else cleared out before leaving, he was surprised to see Happy making his way to him.

“Did Tony not tell you that I’m going home?” Peter asked instead of greeting the man like usual.

“Well, I’m already here, so I’ll take you home then.”

“I don’t want to bother you any, Happy. I’m sure you got better things going on in your life then picking up some kid from school.”

Happy looked Peter over, surprised by the words out of his mouth. Peter -while overly apologetic- loves to chat Happy’s ears off. It was a red flag for sure if the kid is already feeling like a bother.

“A thank you will suffice next time.” Happy responded with a snort and an eye roll, trying to get a reaction out of the kid infront of him.

“Oh, thanks.” Peter’s voice was flat and void of any emotion, which was opposite of the smile he held on his face.

Happy walked to the car, and Peter followed behind, getting into the backseat. Once Happy settled into the drivers seat, he looked into the review, starting the car, but making no effort of driving.

“What, suddenly you’re too good to sit in the front seat?” Happy tried again.

“Sorry, I can sit up there if you want, you just normally say that I’m supposed to be in the back. Figured I’d save you the breath today.”

Peter didn’t make any moves to go switch seats so Happy decided to drive anyways. It was weird that Peter was sitting in the back, he never sat in the back unless Tony was also in the car.

“You okay, Pete?” Happy finally asked.

Peter’s eyes filled with tears, needing to be blinked back. Peter sat there for a moment before deciding on an answer. He was lucky happy didn’t see his watery eye.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good, just not feeling too well I guess.”

Happy nodded, deciding that to be the end of the conversation.

Once they reached Peter’s apartment, the car had barely stopped before Peter was getting out, with a whispered thanks.

Every step up the stairs, Peter’s body felt heavier and heavier. His lungs felt tights and his heart hurt so badly. Thinking was hard, like the thoughts were stuck trying to move through sludge. Existence was too much. The world is heavy on his shoulders and all Peter wants to do is go to sleep and never wake up. He’s tired, tired, tired, tired. And living hurts.

As Peter unlocks the door to the apartment, he remembers that May is working until 3am, and that he’s alone. Again. He’s so alone. And that thought hurts just as much as the thought of being with people.

Why can’t he just exist in the same way other people do?

Peter drops his bag at the front door, kicking off his shoes. He should probably eat something. Peter knows that he should definitely eat something. But that sounds so exhausting. How can he make food and then chew food and swallow food when he just wants the world to swallow him whole? Even water, drinking water just sounds like so much work. His whole body is heavy and he’s tired and so fucking sad. Peter wants to cry, he feels like he should cry but that is so exhausting he can’t even manage that.

He’s lucky he makes it to his room. He’s lucky he had enough energy to strip out of his own clothing. He’s lucky he’s able to put on his comfiest pjs. He’s lucky he didn’t crumble when he first walked into an empty apartment.

Peter makes it to his bed before his legs give out. He’s only half on the bed, but it’s enough for now.

It feels like everything under his skin is itchy and wrong, begging to be soothed. Peter’s brain won’t shut off, but won’t hold a thought either. Everything is hazy and the world only exists in blurs. Everything felt twisted and heavy and stabbed. Peter could feel his heart in his throat, could feel as if someone was choking him. Existing hurts.

Peter becomes aware of the world again some hours later, the blurry haziness now only a little fuzzy. He rubs the tears he didn’t realize he cried off his cheeks. He’s still in the same position and everything feels like too much, but there’s someone in the kitchen.

He should probably investigate. He wonders if the person will kill him. If he makes it look like enough of a struggle it won’t look like giving up, will it? Peter shakes his head to get the thoughts out. He doesn’t want to die. He just doesn’t want to live right now. There’s a difference.

Opening his bedroom door and shuffling out to the kitchen, blankets all wrapped around himself, he finds Tony. Tony is singing softly to himself and he cooks in Peter’s kitchen.

“What are you doing here?” Peter asked. Even to himself, his voice sounds detached, like it doesn’t belong to him.

“Happy was worried about you. So I thought I’d come make some chicken noodle soup for you. Chicken Noodle soup makes everyone feel better, it’s a law. But if that doesn’t help any I can make my famous hot cocoa.” Tony smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His heart heart seeing the state Peter was in.

“Oh.” Peter turned back around, planning on going back to his bed.

“Woah, woah, woah. You’re not going back to your room. I’m much more interesting than anything that could possibly be in there. Let’s go, chop, chop. You’re going to help me cut these veggies.”

Peter stood there, looking at Tony like he’s insane, before turning back around and making his way to the kitchen, sitting down at the breakfast bar, where there was a small cutting station already set up. He continued to stare at Tony, who gestured for Peter to start chopping.

“The chicken noodle soup and the hot cocoa we’re going to make later and very important family recipes from the Carbonelle side. They’ve been passed down a few generations, and when you’re older, I’ll pass them down to you. Whenever I was having a bad day, Mom would always bring me down to the kitchen and have me help cut all the vegetables for the soup. So I’m doing that with you now.”

“Mr Stark. No offense but if it’s family recipes you should keep them in the family. I’m just the intern, you should be saving that for when you have kids.”

Tony stopped what he was doing, seeing how Peter was focused on the work infront of him. His face was red, and there were tried tear tracks down his face. He had big dark bags under his eyes, and every movement made looked like it too all the energy out of him. Peter looked exhausted in a way no kid should ever look.

“Peter, kid. You are family to me. Sure you aren’t biologically my kid or anything, but I care about so much it hurts. Maybe I’ll have kids of my own one day, or maybe I won’t but you’re always going to be my kid too. You get the fun family recipes and inheritance if I die. I’m going to share these traditions with you because you’re family and I love you, kid, even if I don’t say it a lot, I want you to know it.”

Peter’s face crumpled in on itself, and he dropped the knife on the counter. Peter sucked in a breath trying to stop himself from the inevitable. Tears started racing down his cheeks as he sobbed right there in the kitchen in front of his mentor. In front of his father-figure.

The world crashed down on the one thing that was holding Peter together. It sucker punched him in the gut and stole his breath away. Everything in him snapped and fell apart. It hurt, and took everything in Peter. Peter’s whole body shook and ached. His heart twisted and twisted and twisted more.

Arms wrapped around Peter, as if trying to put the pieces back into place, trying to work out the puzzle that is Peter Parker. They held on tight, and lifted Peter right out of his chair. The arms brought Peter to a chest and Peter’s head rested on a shoulder as he cried and cried and cried.

Tony started to hum, causing his chest to vibrate against Peter. He rocked back and forth, holding the teen tight to him, allowing Peter the ability to be vulnerable with him. Holding Leter close. Tony ran his finger’s through Peter’s hair hoping to bring comfort to his kid who needed it more than he’d ever admit.

Tony held his kid who needed comfort and love and someone to be vulnerable with when he felt like the world was too much.

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rangelssss · 3 years

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#spiderman no way home #OH MY GOD #them #Stephen has dad energy also bastard vibes #stephen strange #Dr Strange #Peter parker #spiderman #mcu #marvel #sad boi HOURS #ALSO... whattver vibe strange is going for #my art rangels #i love them..#peter is just baby

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mikkaeus · 2 years

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starker fic recs 2022

there are so many different flavours of starker!! like WILDLY diverging ones, probably more so than any other ship i’ve read. it’s so fun and versatile.

but before I go into those different brands, here’s an intro to my favourite authors! i’ve read every starker fic they’ve written and would trust them with my life.

“author has already arranged a ride to church trust me” anon (aka RTC anon) One of the most well-known authors in the starker fandom. Words cannot explain how obsessed I am with this person. Gorgeous, cinematic prose, original & captivating plot, steaming UST, rich characterisation with the delicacy it takes to handle this kind of ship—they truly have it all. They got me into this ship and are the sole reason I spent forty hours a week for like three weeks straight just reading starker.

is this thing (an)on All-round great writing but what particularly stands out is the dialogue, which is so in character I can hear their banter with perfect clarity. Their fics have the range! Plotty ones, smutty ones, twisty little sad ones—all of them worth a read.

chelicerata A late discovery for me because they’re not as well-known as the other two but I am literally so glad I found them by Advanced Fic Finding Methods because boy what a gem! I loved all of their fics but my particular favourites will be listed below.

lovetincture Very beautiful prose that really explores the jagged edges of the characters.

honorary mention for belatrix because I was trying to keep the list to people who were fairly prolific but I love their two starker fics with my entire chest

BRAND 1: starting off with the healthy relationship ones (well as healthy as you can get) (mandatorily starring a guilty, self-loathing-to-various-degrees tony, and a cast that fully acknowledges that the age difference is problematic):

Stipulations by RTC anon (70k). Peter Parker’s longterm dream recently went from ‘get into MIT’ to ‘afford going to MIT’. As the time approaches, it’s dawning on him that he won’t be able to pay his tuition and afford the move to Cambridge all at once: he’s out of money, his secrets are beginning to pile up, and desperation has started creeping in... And then one night, he saves Tony Stark’s life. AU - Peter is still Spiderman, but they have a different first meeting. This was the first starker fic I completed and it got me fully invested in the ship, coming from a background of never being a particular fan of age difference. It has me seeing in shrimp colours. Bonus: very well executed alternating POV. Also Tony compulsively buying Peter things. Oh to be filthy rich <3 in reality I’d put him in the guillotine but in fiction it’s nice to live vicariously through them :) There is plot but it’s definitely secondary to the relationship.

Revelations by RTC anon (127k) This fic is a thesis for why starker works. An AU where they get the Gauntlet off of Thanos that first time, on Titan. Peter joins the Avengers and reveals his identity to the public. As usual, villains start springing up, and plot ensues.

Expense by RTC anon (47k, WIP) Peter blinks for several silent, panting seconds, then finally closes his mouth. He seems upset. “You don’t want to have sex with me?” “I don’t pay for sex. And no offense, but you’re like twelve.” “I’m eighteen.” “Whatever.” Tony didn’t actually forget his age, but that’s how this arrangement will work best. sex worker peter parker AU (he’s still spiderman). unstoppable force (tony wants to give peter no strings attached money) vs immovable object (peter can’t accept the money without working for it) vs almost-immovable object (tony refuses to fuck peter). 7/8 completed, tony is still holding up but we are seeing cracks, folks. (i.e. no sex has been occurred yet.) recently updated with ch7 which i havent actually caught up on yet. something about this work just makes me fully insane i cant explain it. the reversal of sex worker dynamics just meshes so perfectly with starker?? peter gets to fuck tony and tony gets to give him money. it’s glorious.

Practical Results by is this thing (an)on (81k) (note: peter is 17) fuck-or-die with a fun twist - they’ve been dumped on sakaar, and the grandmaster has switched the entertainment from fighting to porn. make sure you read the epilogue as well!

Archetype (14k) and then the follow-up WIP Set Theory (108k) by is this thing (an)on Don’t read the description for Set Theory before reading Archetype! They’re both so good. Set Theory in particular had me frothing. I’m so glad I decided to read it even after going like “what the fuck” at the description. 11/10 would give my first born child to anon

Classical Mechanics by is this thing (an)on (44k, WIP) G rated fic but *tiktok sound voice* add a little bit of spice Canon compliant mostly I think. Peter’s in his first year of college and Tony keeps signing up to lecture the courses he’s taking. Hello did someone say professor/student starker?? Such a yummy dynamic especially when layered onto their existing dynamic! Overall light-hearted and fun, has alternating POV, and they go to space! The banter is next level. I’ve reread several times while following along with the update and it’s as fresh as ever.

when the sun came up (you were looking at me) by charonsdescent (93k) All the guilt-laden want of regular starker, with even more guilt from pepper’s death and morgan slathered on top. delicious. a sweet, comforting read.

the friendly neighbourhood by postelectric (23k) This writing is not only excellent but it has flair. So fun to read.

Baby Put on Heart-Shaped Sunglasses by toucanpie (17k) light-hearted and funny while still hitting all the right notes for me to classify it under this brand of starker as described at the start of the section.

Better Than by unsettled (41k) The healthiest version of starker I’ve ever read where Peter isn’t aged up from the beginning. Peter and Tony through the years, from Tony’s POV. All-round great Tony meta delivered via his rambling, anxious thoughts. *slaps his back* this boy can fit so much trauma inside him. Knowing and being known, underlined three times.

here is my hand, my heart by belatrix (16k) You have good prose, then you have literary-fiction-level prose. So gorgeous. Tony’s guilt and self-loathing is, as we say in these areas, dialed up to 11 :) Very soft. Basically, I am insane, thanks.

if you’d grant my love a pardon by belatrix (3k) *yodelling, from the rooftops* THE PROSEEE. Overall insanely good, clenching around my heart, want to eat it whole et cetera et cetera. Soft, bittersweet, Tony unable to commit to the relationship because he knows how wrong it is, but at the same time unable to keep away. I’m sorry.

as if even now by Anonymous (collection: “anon’s starker fics”) (31k + 2k epilogue fic) Yeah I’m a dumbass that didn’t bookmark or comment on it at the time of reading so my memory of it is a bit hazy, but the important things are: prose with a flair, funny parts, great rambly Tony dialogue. It’s very good.

BRAND 2: Darker fics! Ah coming from the person who once swore they would never read underage fic... how the turn tables.. Basically, Peter is very young, and Tony is more than a little fucked up. Not sympathetic for Tony.

The Scenic Route by lovetincture (3k) This fic was something else. The writing is phenomenal. Looping its fingers through your intestines kind of phenomenal. Post Homecoming, Peter is 15, and Tony is sharply aware that he is doing something terrible. This was my intro to the darker brand of starker and I’ve half memorised it at this point it’s so damn good.

Age of Consent by pallidiflora. (5k) Thematically similar to The Scenic Route, equally as good writing. Also I’m obsessed with the description like: While waiting for Peter's seventeenth birthday, Tony Stark obeys the letter of the law, if not the spirit. ugh. chills!

RSVP series by lovetincture (in total 5k, comprised of 3 ficlets) this one is a doozy. they get together when pete is 16. divorce after fifteen years. the bitterness and the thinly veneered wrongness of it all. tipping into regret? not in so many words, but god.

BRAND 3: established relationship!

take me out (and take me home) by chelicerata (3k) Yes, I cried. Soft established relationship just takes me out.

Archimedes and Stoplights by heartbreaknow (1k) More softness! Cue me yelling THEM and punching a pillow. The first time Tony stops in the middle of sex to write down a potential breakthrough he’s just had on a tricky lab problem, he and Peter have been together for about six months.

Commemorate by unsettled (1k) Tony's had enough birthday parties to last him a lifetime. He can skip it this year, right?

Subversion by is this thing (an)on (1k) Literally the most perfect suit kink fic. I’ve ascended to another dimension.

Anything You Want by LearnedFoot (2k) “Um, you know how you keep asking me what I want?” “Mmm,” Tony agrees, forcing his orgasm-hazy mind to focus. This is important. “Yeah. Um, well, what if what I want is for you to, uh, be rougher?”

BRAND 4: vanilla starker. college or AU Peter, aged up to at least 20 years old. age difference is still a thing but without the powerful undercurrent of guilt and general fucked-up-ness as in brands 1 and 2.

Refraction by chelicerata (16k) Post Endgame Peter drops into a universe with a slightly different, younger Tony Stark, who’s not Iron Man (yet). The whole package deal! All the angst and the humour and the softness and THEM! The tragedy of him being in love with someone else that’s not quite you! chef’s fucking kiss

Things That Can Destroy Me by romanticallyinept (12k) Peter is a very established adult here, and he meets Tony just as he’s revealed himself to the world as Iron Man. Cute and fun.

Waste My Time Dreaming (Of You) by romanticallyinept (9k) Light-hearted, great banter. Or, the one where Peter’s putting himself through college working as a barista by day and Spider-Man by night, and Tony just wants his brain. Well, more than his brain. But it’s a good place to start.

Pete’s Eats by bloodgutsandstarbucks (9k) Fluffy and funny. AU — Peter’s a college student, Spiderman, and runs a cooking channel on Youtube, where he gets wine-drunk and thirsts over Tony Stark.

Landslide by spqr (8k) Peter jumps into the quantum realm with his heart in his throat. He steps out in 2018, on the edge of a lake he still has nightmares about. A hundred yards away over the water, the lights in the lakehouse are on. Soft and sad with a happy ending. Gorgeous prose with a creative twist.

#starker fic rec #starker fics #starker #if you see some of the stuff ive written here word for word in my comments or bookmarks - no you didnt #original words are hard <3 #look my starker phase has ended now so this doesnt have all the fics i wanted it to have but since i went to all the effort of typing it up #im posting it anyway #my rec list

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softtdaisy · 2 years

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🎶 - Fresh Laundry by Allie X

✨ - tasm!Peter Parker x female!reader

🌿 - hurt/comfort for reader dealing with severe depression and ed recovery (if you're comfortable writing this!)

_fresh laundry

tasm!peter parker x female!reader

based on: fresh laundry by allie x

words: 853

a/n: this one is super sad as you could guess, read this with precautions! thank you for your request love, it was a good change for me and quite therapeutic too💛

warning: tw depression

Join my 600 followers celebration 💛

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Peter was sad. Sad that he has to watch your life from your window. Not being able to be with you. Not until you accept it.

You and Peter had been together for months. When you started dating, you were always happy. You would laugh at his most stupid jokes. Smile at every word he would say. Kiss him at any moments you could. But you always warned Peter that you had a difficult relationship with depression. That from time to time the prefect blue sky would become grey. Sometimes you could explain why. Sometimes not. Peter accepted it and said he would be by your side when and if it happened. “But what if my side changes too much?” You tried to warn him.

He had no idea you would push him away the day you started feeling sad. You stopped laughing at his jokes. You weren’t smiling anymore, even when he was talking about his love for you. You were avoiding his kiss most of the time. And then you weren’t seeing him anymore.

Peter guessed it had something to do with the pictures taken of you with Spider-man. It was Peter’s mistake. He knew it. One day he was super late to pick you up for your date. So he decided it wouldn’t hurt to take you with his suit, and he would change before entering the restaurant. It would be good, right?

Except for the people who managed to capture this moment. And all the comments that followed. You agreed to say he saved you from…well, you couldn’t remember from what. The only thing on your mind was the awful comments about you.

Spider-man deserved a better partner. Peter deserves a better girlfriend.

It took you almost two weeks before deciding you didn’t want to go out. You didn’t want to see the world. You couldn’t face Peter anymore. You were so sure he felt miserable about having you in his life. You couldn't handle it.

When all Peter wanted was to comfort you and tell you how much he loved you.

He did it in his own way.

On top of coming to your window every day to see you, just a small part of you, Peter managed to show his love. He sent you flowers: small bouquets so you didn’t feel overwhelmed by it. You would get letters and small notes with love words. When he was there at night, he would play your favorite song. Even with the window closed, you could hear it. You felt so loved and so thankful for this boy. Even with a broken heart.

So one day, you unlocked it. You waited until Peter came to your window and noticed it was open. It was still difficult for you, so you stayed on your bed silently until he sat by your side. He was making small gestures. Too scared you would dig your heels in. He slowly put his arm around you, and you just needed to feel his touch to let it all go.

You broke down immediately and buried yourself into his arms. “Peter,” you cried against his chest. He had to fight his tears. He had to be stronger. But he never imagined how hard it would be to see the person you loved being this sad. He wished he could take all your pain away. Even take it with him and deal with it by himself. But it was impossible. “I’m here.” He just whispered, brushing your back and your hair slowly.

You let yourself go against him. Slowly, Peter managed to lie against the wall so you would both be comfortable like this. He didn’t care if it was taking you ten minutes, ten hours or even ten days to feel better. He wouldn’t leave you now that you opened your heart again.

So he kept caressing your back to calm down your sobs. He kept putting small kisses on your hair, not touching your face until you were okay with this. He kept repeating he loved you until you answered.

You fall asleep in Peter's arms. He stayed awake to make sure you were alright. And he knew he did the right thing when you woke up with an anxiety crisis and looked at him with sad eyes. “You…you’re not leaving?” You asked with a broken voice that killed his heart.

This time, Peter slowly kissed your forehead. “I’m not. I stay here until I see a smile on this pretty face. And even then, I will stay with you. I told you babe. I will always be by your side, no matter what happens in your life. In your happy and sad days, I’ll be there.”

You accepted all his words and lay against him again. You didn’t have the strength to answer his love declaration yet. But you were so glad that in this life, you had the opportunity to have the most amazing boyfriend. Maybe everything wasn’t perfect. Maybe it won’t ever be. But at least you had Peter. And you couldn’t ask for more than waking up with him every morning.

#tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #tw depression #my writing #600 followers celebration

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violetrainbow412-blog · 2 years

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Alone [P.P]

TASM!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Word count: 2.5k

WARNINGS: mentions of anxiety and depression in general.

A/N: Ok, I wrote this while I was on the bus to school, so it's not very long and not very good. I spent days doubting whether to publish it or not, but it is written in the first person because it is something that happened to me and I apologize in advance, I just wanted to express everything I felt by writing something and now I want to share it with you.

I looked from one side to the other. The night was already falling and the party was heating up. I'm not a very party person if you ask me, but after the insistence of my friends to go to the school welcome I had no choice. After all, I'm already a college student and college students do those things, right?

I see a couple of people smoking weed in a corner, others are playing beer pong and a couple is kissing that I am sure won’t take long to escape to the bathroom.

It's fun to watch all these people, but when a guy offers me alcohol for the sixth time and I refuse, I know I'm starting to not fit in.

I think in all my life I've never fit in, in one way or another, but I have learned to get used to it.

The music is loud and he's not my favorite singer, but he's not bad either. The rhythm is cheerful, it serves to liven up the atmosphere.

There is no one sitting next to me, my friends are playing, dancing, or jumping on the trampoline that the owner of the house has. I smiled, at least they are having fun.

I look at the time, it's just going to be 10:00 pm. I think about the homework I still have to do; I think about the movie I want to finish watching, and I think about how I'm fucking hungry and there's nothing but booze at this party. So I grab my stuff and decide it's time to go. My friends seem sad because the pleasure of having taken me out of my cave didn't last long. I tell them that I am tired, that I want to sleep a little before the hard day that awaits us tomorrow. But the truth is that I had begun to suffocate.

I say goodbye to the nice guy who greeted me and he seems a bit sad too (or at least he fakes it) but I let it go. There are no buses at this time of night so I am forced to walk home, safe in the knowledge that Spiderman will come to the rescue if anything bad happens.

Oh Spiderman, how can I describe him?

Since a few weeks ago he has been very close to me as if my safety was of vital importance. And I mean, it is for me, but it shouldn't be for him.

I've greeted him a couple of times and I can almost imagine him blushing under his mask, embarrassed to be found out.

But he's a good guy, I guess, otherwise he wouldn't do everything he does for the city.

The cold is getting to my bones and I greatly regret choosing to wear a dress that day. I thought that maybe with that I would manage to attract someone's attention and that I would live some crazy love story, but that only stops in the movies.

While walking home I get a couple of messages. I've been out on the street for almost an hour now and it seems the party got even more lively when I left. I mean, not that this is directly related, but you get my point.

I watched videos of one of my best friends making out comfortably with a man and managed to figure out who he is. I met him weeks before and told all my friends that I thought he was attractive, but apparently, the alcohol had erased that memory. Honestly, I can't blame her either, because I limited me to looking at the guy from afar and greeting him from time to time. It's not like I'm his girlfriend or anything, nor do I think we ever had anything. So if she gets a boyfriend or a quickie that night, good for her.

He looked at another couple of videos on my contacts' statuses and smiled as he recognized a blond boy named Harry. He is taking a shot straight from the bottle and his friends cheer him on. He's a good-looking guy with a lot of money, but that doesn't make him snooty. On the contrary, he rebelled against his father to drop out of his super expensive school just to get into our shitty public university. It is curious, because I would never pass up the opportunity to be in a prestigious and renowned school, but I suppose that his action is because the girl he likes and his best friend (I haven’t yet deciphered if it is actually the reverse) are studying there. They're freshmen, just like me, and I tell myself that I should try talking to them later.

Try. My life has been a complete run of failed attempts. I am not saying that I am the shyest person, I am very loud and outgoing, but the truth is that I always chicken out when it comes to important things. That's why I don't have a partner and that's why I've been in love for years with a person who will never love me in life. She is already a thing of the past, or so I hope, but although I always say that I am over things, there is still a little bit of the pang of pain that causes that thorn in my heart.

In Harry's video, in the background, I can see the boy I told you about earlier. He is brown-haired, tall, with beautiful eyes and pale skin. He was looking at his friend with a bit of amusement, but also with something else that I don't know how to name but that I recognize in my own face when I'm with my friends. It's that 'I'm glad you're having fun, but I'll have to take care of you in a few hours' look. I smiled to myself, thinking of him. He must have been a good friend, but I guess from my position it was hard to tell.

I put my phone away as I approached a corner I considered dangerous. There were only a few blocks to go, but a shiver ran through me. I knew what it was about, those horrible moments when the whole world seemed to fall apart. I was supposed to have gone to a party, I must have been happy, right? So why did I feel this heavy tightness in my chest? Why can't I enjoy a moment before my own mind consumes me to the core?

Breathing became heavy and painful, and the feeling of wanting to disappear only intensified. I was only a few blocks away, I could go far enough to get home and lay on the floor to let myself slowly die. But I couldn't, my legs didn't move at all and I didn't have the heart to do it either.

So I just flopped against the cold wall, in the dark, hoping God would let me live another day.

“Hey…” I heard, close to me. My heart skipped a beat at the thought of it being some rapist or mugger, but it was just the friendly face I'd been seeing for the past few weeks. Well, it was more of a mask than a face “Are you okay? You feel bad?"

"I'm fine" I lied. Why was I told him that? Why did I feel the need not to worry a person I didn't even know?

"Did someone hurt you?" he insisted, crouching down in front of me. His voice was gentle and I wished I could ask him to keep talking to calm my racing heart. I only managed to shake my head, afraid that if I said a word I would burst into tears. If not that I was already crying at this point, well often the tears came long before I knew it "Do you want me to walk you home?" he said. I watched him reach for his hand for a second, deciding whether or not it was wise to touch me, but in the end, he decided to take a chance and placed his gloved palm on my arm. His touch felt like an anchor to reality, like he was stopping me from sinking into my own misery. "What's your name?"

“Y/N” I replied. Somehow, I knew he was smiling.

“Okay, Y/N. I'm here, do you want to talk about what's happening to you?" he exclaimed softly. And hearing it I thought: what the hell does it matter telling my problems to a complete stranger? I could be honest with him, he wouldn't judge me. And if he did, I didn't care because he wouldn't see it again unless I was in danger or turned into a supervillain. So… What difference does it make?

"I feel so fucking useless," I whispered and a sob escaped me. I pushed away all thoughts that I sounded ridiculous by telling him this just so I could throw it out of my system. I needed to tell someone.

"Why?" he asked. His movements were graceful, I just realized it, and I saw him get a little closer to me.

"I don't know, I feel like everyone hates me" I continued "but I don't even have a reason to and that makes me feel even worse. And I don't know, I feel so guilty about everything"

I stayed silent, with a lump in my throat, just to wait for his reaction. I wasn't looking at him directly, though I knew he was.

And despite my brain screaming at me to be quiet, my mouth kept talking.

"And everywhere I go I feel excited and happy to meet new people and make friends, but as the hours go by, I just feel more and more stupid and out of place. Everyone is smooching around, taking drugs, drinking alcohol, enjoying their lives and youth and I can't. And I know I don't need those things to have fun, but at the same time I'm convinced that if I don't do it everyone will make fun of it and that's why I end up thinking I'm much better off locked up at home" I let out a sob that cut me off and he slid his hand up my arm until it was close to mine, either inviting me to take it or letting me push him away. I took his hand and started to cry a little harder.

"We all have different ways of enjoying things"

"I know, but it's just that I feel so alone" I confessed. I hadn't talked about this with anyone, but loneliness was a latent part of my day to day "And when I have problems, I feel like a hindrance in the lives of my friends, I feel like I'm a burden they have to bear" I murmured, completely broken "Sometimes I just wish I was brave and strong. Like a superhero maybe. Like you”

"Brave and strong? Me?" he asked, amusement creeping into his voice "Oh, I'm not any of that, darling. I have problems and suffer many things every day, just like you. That's why I understand this emptiness you feel because I've felt it myself, many times” he continued. I held out my fist to wipe away my tears, incredulous at what he was saying. Maybe he was just lying to make me feel better "Listen, you're not a burden to anyone. I know it doesn't do much good to say that because I don't have magic powers that ward off sadness, but you shouldn't be affected by this. Sometimes our minds deceive us and we end up convinced that we are not loved, when this is not even remotely true. I know that there must be people in your life who care about you and that's why you have to surround yourself with them. What if you don't get drunk until you throw up? What difference does that make? The important thing is that you know that there will always be a place where you belong” his words felt safe and his grip on my hand comforted me. I was silent for a while. This talk wasn't going to fix my life, but at least I needed someone to tell me out loud that I wasn't just a disposable piece of an idiot.

"Thank you" I managed to say. Somehow, he had made me feel better, just by being there keeping me company.

My breathing was stabilizing and although I knew that if I thought about it again, I would explode again, at least I was calm enough to go home. He perceived that I was better and was encouraged to speak again.

"I'll walk you home," he exclaimed.

"No, I'm fine…"

"It's obvious you're not okay. I can accompany you, there is no problem. It's my job,” he insisted friendly. Even if I said no, I knew he would, for he was in no condition to ignore what had happened. So I thought that maybe this man was some kind of angel sent by God to take care of me and I wasn't going to be stupid enough to reject him.

He helped me up, because the previous crying had made me a little dizzy. It was the worst part of crying, the one that nobody talks about where after doing it for a long time you start to feel how your body begs to sleep.

He held me for most of the way and kept asking me questions about myself to drive away bad thoughts and at the same time keep me awake. It was working.

I don't remember if I thanked him, nor do I remember when he left. All I remember is him helping me sneak out my bedroom window and as soon as my body hit the mattress, everything went dark.

The next morning, the feeling was gone. It's as if my body sedates me naturally as if I suddenly don't remember anything that had happened. I was just tired, with big dark circles under my eyes and a lost look.

That's how it always was, after the explosion, there was simply nothing: it was like dying.

“Morning,” I said hoarsely, to the driver. My backpack was already slung over my shoulder and I hurriedly made my way to the nearest empty seat. My eyes stayed on the window, looking at the sky and realizing that even in the dark of night some clouds could be seen. It was going to rain, that's for sure.

I closed my eyes, hoping to get some sleep, and then I felt a person sitting next to me. I mentally cursed for that and raised my head, praying that I wasn't that friend. It wasn't, instead, I was met with a pretty face and a sheepish smile.

“Hey” he greeted me. He didn't say anything else and neither did I, I just greeted him with a nod, returning to my starting position. I could have stayed quiet, slept until I got to school, and never spoken to him again.

But I remembered that song, saying you're not good alone.

And I thought maybe it was true. I wasn't good alone.

"Your name is Peter, right?" I asked in his direction. He smiled at me... and I knew I would be fine.

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