#peter parker looks in the mirror and all he see’s is an inconvenience

[spidergrotto]

peter parker is selfish.

may and ben had given him everything, he spent nights sleeping comfortably; oblivious to the amount of stress his presence had given them, peter ran around the couples small apartment playing superhero’s while they figured out how they were going to feed a third person. he grew up more or less happy, and it was all because of them— they were perfect.

and what does peter do? he storms out after a stupid argument, he wanders down three different streets and ignores may’s calls. he screams at ben when he finds him, he refuses to go home, he gets ben shot.

when may found out, she didn’t look at peter with hate— there wasn’t a morsel of anger in his aunts eyes, she only held him and assured him that it wasn’t his fault, and isn’t that the most ridiculous thing? her husband was dead, and she was holding the reason he bled out on the alleyway, she was comforting the root of her grief.

and peter let her, he snuck into her room everytime a nightmare visited, letting himself fall back into her arms. he let her sign him up for midtown, he let her book his therapy appointments.

peter stood by and watched his aunt pull herself together for his sake, just like he watched his uncle get shot ( and just like he watched tony stark snap. )

so when may asks if he’s been eating breakfast, he’ll lie and tell her he grabs something on the way, when she gives him his allowance, he’ll slowly shove it into her savings jar, and when he gets a nightmare he’ll toughen up.

because yeah, he was selfish, he was selfish because he stayed. but he wouldn’t let himself be a burden again, he won’t let himself be put in a position where he needs help.

( and when he apologizes to mr.stark, half of his body gone and dusted. it’s because he knows what it’s like to watch someone you care for die, and he knows that his failure would leave a burden on tony’s shoulders. he knows that he’s inconvenienced someone again. )

[remuslovebot]

First Kiss

[Andrew Garfield Peter Parker x reader]

“Ugh! Why do you have to be so difficult!” You screamed at your math homework, practically throwing it across the room. You needed a break, so you decided sit on your balcony and get some fresh air.

You watched the city below you, your mind slowly calming down from the stress of your homework. You then saw a red and blue streak, swinging through the city. You smiled, recognizing the streak as Spider-Man. He had been around for almost a two years now. A while back he had disappeared, but he returned and continued to save the city.

Spider-Man had now disappeared into an alleyway and your gaze landed on the Empire State Building, it was beautiful and you loved living in New York.

Breaking you out of your day dreams, your phone started to ring from inside your bedroom, where your messy university homework laid. You went back inside and picked up your phone.

You smiled at the caller ID, “Hello Peter,” you said, running a hand through your hair and putting your right hand in the back pocket of your jeans.

“Hey, I’ll be over in a few minutes to study. I had to run a couple errands...” he trailed off, vaguely. You looked at your homework and then at yourself in the mirror, “Oh it’s fine, I was taking a break anyway,” you replied. He chucked, “Okay, see you in five,” he said, then hanging up.

You looked down at your phone, the picture of Peter you had taken in Central Park was your wallpaper. You blushed seeing his smiling face. Peter Parker was your best friend and your crush, but you know he didn’t feel the same way. Not only had he lost someone romantically close to him last year but you probably weren’t even his type.

In Peters eyes, you were exactly his type. He wanted to be more than just friends but he knew that some of his enemies knew who he really was, if they saw him getting close to someone he really cared about they could be a target. He didn’t want you to get hurt so he never asked you out or revealed his feelings. This was extremely hard for him to do, because you were so close, you always studied together.

Peter was mesmerized by you when you would study. The way you would chew on the top of your pen or pencil. The way you ran your hand through your hair when you were really concentrating. He loved everything about you and wanted so desperately to have you in his arms. But he needed to keep you safe, even if he knew you would never feel the same.

Peter had arrived just in time. You moved your homework to your kitchen table and made you and Peter each a glass of iced tea. Handing him the glass he mumbled a thank you. “So what question are you on?” Peter asked, looking next to you to see your paper. “Question five,” you huffed, the stress of the math problem coming back to you.

“Oh this is easy, you just have to find out how they got 243,” Peter explained. You looked at the problem again and it all became clear.

“Really, that’s it? Oh my god, you do, how the hell did I not see that before,” you laughed, taking your pencil and quickly solving the equation. Peter watched you as you worked out the problem, butterflies filled his stomach. You were absolutely adorable.

He giggled and you looked up, “What?” You asked, giggling yourself.

“Nothing,” Peter shrugged off.

You nudged him, “Oh come on, tell me,” you replied.

He shook his head, smiling, “I can’t, I want to but I can’t,” he admitted.

This made you more curious, “That doesn’t make any sense, Peter.” You said. “Just tell me,” you added.

“I think your laugh is adorable. I loved the way your eyes lit up when your figured out the solution to the problem. I think your the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and-,” he said, but you cut him off with your lips.

It was impulsive, yes, but he said all of those beautiful words with those big puppy dog eyes. How could you not kiss him. You began to pull away but he pulled you closer to him, kissing you back. It was sweet but then became passionate, like what happened after the ‘ they lived happily ever after’ title card.

You both pulled away for air, your lips swollen from kissing your best friend. “I’m-um, I didn’t mean to-wow,” you stuttered.

Peter nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah wow is um-right yeah,” he said, trying to focus on something else besides your lips.

You both instinctively leaned in again and another mini make out session began.

“This is probably not a good idea,” Peter whispered in between kisses.

“Why not?” You replied, confused.

“Well, we’re supposed to be studying,” he said, but really he didn’t want you to get hurt for being close to him.

“You helped me understand the problem. I’ll look at my notes again,” you shrugged, leaning into kiss him again.

Peter couldn’t take the guilt anymore and pulled away, “I can’t, I’m sorry,” he said, grabbing his jacket and leaving.

You watched him leave your apartment in shock , what the hell had just happened.

Four Days Later

After the kiss Peter ignored you. He wouldn’t answer any of your calls or texts. Finally you decided to just go over to his house. Knocking on the front door, Aunt May opened the door.

“Y/n, it’s wonderful to see you. Please come in,” she said sweetly. “Thank you. I’m here to see Peter. Is he here?” You asked.

Aunt May nodded, “Yes, I believe he’s in his room,” she replied. You said thank you again, then walking upstairs to Peter’s room.

It was closed so you knocked, “Peter, it’s Y/n. I need to talk to you,” you said.

No answer.

“Peter I want to apologize for any inconvenience I caused,” you added.

No answer.

You huffed under your breath, “Peter Parker, I’m sorry!” You yelled. You then noticed the door wasn’t fully closed and you lightly pushed it open, “Peter?” You asked. But no one was in the room.

The window was open, “Unbelievable,” you mumbled, upset.

As you turned to leave, a red and blue streak swung into the room. It was Spider-Man. He didn’t know you were there and he took off his backpack and then his mask. He turned around and you came face to face with your best friend.

“Oh my god,” you said in shock. Peter’s eyes went wide upon seeing you.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” He asked.

“Your Spider-Man!!” You shrieked. He shushed you and fully closed his door. “Yeah,” he replied, still confused.

“Why are you here?” He asked. “I wanted to apologize for upsetting you after we kissed,” you admitted, a little embarrassed but still shocked that your best friend was Spider-Man.

“Y/n don’t be sorry. I liked kissing you, it was one of best kisses I’ve ever had. I just can’t be with you,” he said.

“Why? Because your Spider-Man,” you scoffed.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“That’s bullshit, Peter. We like each-other, why can’t we be together?” You asked.

“You could get put into danger because of me. You could get hurt,” he explained.

You huffed, waking closer to him, “I am not a damsel in distress,” you replied.

Peter walked closer to you, “I never said you were. I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you because of me,” he said, putting his hand on your cheek.

“Nothing will happen to me. I’m staying, as long as you want me. I’m yours,” you said, embracing his touch.

“I want you,” Peter whispered, leaning into kiss you.

[selfcarecap]

Wap [p.p]

pairing: Peter Parker x reader

summary: An inconvenience turns into one of the best nights ever. (Including Peter freaking out cause you’re singing explicit lyrics.)

warning: smut, swearing probably, wap (lyrics) idk

word count: 3.1k

-this is a repost of an old fic-

gif not mine <3

Spilled drink. White t-shirt. No bra.

That’s your current predicament.

But luckily Peter’s there to rescue you.

You’re at a party and apparently some people here have no eyes, because this one guy just walked straight into you, resulting in him pouring the contents of his cup all over your chest. You ran to one of the rooms before he could even apologise.

“If there was a wet t-shirt contest, I‘d win for sure,” you tell Peter, who’s on the phone with you. He’s stopping at your place to get you a new shirt, before he comes to the party himself.

“That bad?” he chuckles, “Just got the spare key. What top do you want? The one you wore the other week when we were all at Mj’s?”

You’re quiet for a second, trying to think of what you wore.

“The purple one,” he says.

“Wow, great memory. Yeah. That one will do, can you see it?”

“Got it, it’s right here. I’ll be there in, like, ten minutes then.”

“Oh, wait. Could you also bring me a bra? That shirt can be a bit scratchy around my—”

“Yup!” He cuts you off, “Where are they?”

“Just the bottom drawer.”

“Umm,” you can picture him blushing at the sight of your bras.

“It‘s just underwear, Peter.”

“Yeah, yeah I know- which one do you want?”

“Can you see a navy one?”

“Got that one r-right here, okay see you in ten!” he hangs up before you can chuckle at him being so adorably nervous.

You preoccupy yourself on your phone while you wait for Peter, wet shirt, now see-through, clinging to your chest.

Only a few minutes later, you hear a knock and Peter’s voice calling out your name.

You open the door for him and damn he looks good in his button-up shirt. He smells delicious too.

“Um,” his eyes flicker down to your chest for a second, “hi.” He steps in so you can close the door, and hands you your shirt and bra, neatly folded into each other.

You start pulling your shirt off your body, but he’s still staring.

“Uh, could you-?” you motion for him to turn around.

“Of course- sorry!”

You change into dry clothes quickly. “Thanks so much, Peter. You saved my ass,” finally hugging him to say hello properly.

“No problem, really. So.. whose room is this?”

“No idea but it‘s nice. D‘you wanna stay here a bit? It hasn‘t been just us two in ages, I wanna hang out with you again.”

“As long as I have you I don‘t care what we do. I don‘t really know anyone else at this party anyway,” he shrugs.

“Well, Ned and Betty are here. And you know Niall, who invited us to this party, we can go spend time with him if you want to.”

“I already said hi but he‘s busy being the host and all. And Ned and Betty probably snuck away somewhere to make out.”

“Well like I said, it‘s cool to be just with you. No one will notice if we stay in here the whole time so.”

As you two sit on a stranger’s bed, making each other laugh, it makes you happier than ever. You could stay like this with Peter forever.

You can hear the faint beat of the music from downstairs, but at some point, you two turn on your own music on your phone, making funny videos for your private story.

You end up sitting on a small circular carpet in front of the mirror against the wall, taking a video of you two in the mirror.

You stick out your tongue and nudge Peter to do the same. You’re watching the screen of your phone, inching closer and closer to Peter until the tips of your tongues touch briefly.

Sitting back and ending the video with a giggle, you direct your attention to Peter entirely.

You turn, so you’re face to face with him, your knees touching, Peter looking at you with big eyes. Leaning forward, you’re only inches away from him.

Your attention doesn’t shift from Peter, even as you can hear the beat of your new favourite song from downstairs, the music from your phone having stopped.

Peter’s eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes a few times, but he doesn’t move forward, too nervous to be rejected by you.

Your moment is interrupted as the door opens, the music a lot louder now, and one of your friends drags you along with her to go downstairs because this is the song you two have been singing to together for a week now, both loving it.

Peter stays in the room a bit longer, hearing the intro line of the song being repeated a few times.

Whores in this house

There’s some whores in this house

He remembers how you posted this song on your story when it first came out.

He’d rather not have to watch you sing those explicit lyrics, but he can’t stay in this random room on his own.

On his way down the stairs, he sees you on a sofa in the sitting area, surrounded by other girls, all of you shouting the lyrics.

I said, certified freak, seven days a week

Wet ass pussy, make that pull-out game weak

He tries not to pay attention to the lyrics, tries to forget just how close you two were only a few seconds ago.

Peter honestly tries to keep his eyes off of you, pretending to be preoccupied, getting some snacks, while the song plays.

Except that it’s not just any song.

Yeah you fucking with some wet ass pussy

Give me everything you got for this wet ass pussy

He eats some of the snacks, while thinking about eating your pussy, as if he’s not watching your every movement, watching you flawlessly repeat the lyrics as if you’d written them yourself. How you and your girlfriends are hyping each other up, dancing on each other playfully and just having fun.

Peter’s got his mouth full with food he’s not even looking at while wondering how accurate the lyrics are.

He’s aware that the song lyrics are exaggerated, but you’re singing along so comfortably that there has to be some truth to it. To be honest you could make him hard just from that confidence alone, no matter what lyrics you were singing.

Put this pussy right in your face

Swipe your nose like a credit card

Hop on top, I wanna ride

It’s not the first time that Peter imagines you doing those things to him, but he’s in the middle of a party, so this is not ideal.

As the song ends after two more painfully long minutes, he finally acts normal again, going to stand by a group of guys that seem nice enough.

You’re still giggling with your friends, but Peter catches your attention shift. Your eyes scan the room and you bite your lip as they finally land on Peter, you standing up and making a beeline for him.

“You wanna go back?” you motion to the stairs and he nods immediately.

You pull him through the corridor with your hand around his wrist.

Once you’re both back in the room, you push the door shut quickly and take a step closer to Peter.

“Sorry, I believe we were interrupted earlier.”

You cup his face and simply press a kiss to his lips.

He melts into the kiss straight away but steps back after a few seconds because you’re both smiling too hard to kiss.

In the short break away from his lips, you push him onto the bed and get on top of him, your arms holding you up, ass in the air and you start kissing him again.

Your tongue is at his lips very quickly, and he opens them, letting your tongue touch his as you two find a rhythm to work with.

In between, you switch from his lips to his neck and as he glances down, he sees how your skirt is riding up your hips. If someone came in now, they’d get a full view of your ass.

His hands sliding up the back of your thighs, he tries to tug the skirt back into place so it’s covering your ass cheeks, then dropping his hands back down to your lower thighs.

“You can leave your hands there if you want,” you look up from kissing his neck, changing to the other side.

“I-I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Your hands on my ass feel very comfortable,” you reach back and slide his hands up your thighs until they’re resting on your ass cheeks. He gives a gentle squeeze to each side.

Peter sighs pleasantly as your lips find each other again, now you’re the one smiling so wide that you can barely kiss anymore.

“Are you- are you-” he starts.

“Yeah?” you change your position so your legs are around his waist, now fully sitting on his lap.

“Um, I’m just asking this cause I’m turned on, you don’t have to tell me the answer. But, umm the song you were singing earlier-” he stops, not sure how to ask, but you get what he’s referring to.

“You’re asking if my pussy is wet? That only depends on you and how you touch me,” you let him know.

“T-that’s a lot of pressure,” he laughs nervously.

“Imagine how my pussy feels.” You can feel the pulsating under your skirt, but you can’t guarantee that your pussy is a waterfall like it’s described in the song.

“That’s what I’ve been doing every night.”

“You think about me when-” your question is interrupted by some drunk person being loud in the hallway, waiting a few seconds to see if they’ll open the door.

The door stays closed, but you’d rather not have someone walk in on you and Peter while you’re straddling him and making out.

“Do you want to go somewhere else? Your or my place maybe? It’s just, anyone could come in any second, I’d rather be with just you.”

He nods as he holds his hand up for you to steady yourself while you get off of him.

You smooth your skirt down and stand by the door until Peter’s next to you, seemingly ready to go.

“Don’t you want to.. adjust that? It’s very obvious,” you smile shyly as you look down at Peter’s pants, the bulge very evident and you wouldn’t want everyone you pass at the party to see.

“Oh,” Peter flushes and his hands fly down to his pants.

You try not to look as he tucks his boner away, but can’t resist a short glance.

He gives you his hand that wasn’t just touching his dick, but it’s his left hand and you’re standing right for him, so you just take his other hand after all.

You’re outside now, hand in hand, the air calming both of you down a little.

“I really like you, you know,” Peter says.

“I kind of figured. And I really like you too. I have for a while,” you smile and kiss him again, you can’t resist Peter now that it’s happened once, and you’re certain he feels the same.

“So we can go to my place, May’s not home until tomorrow night. You can stay the night if you like.”

“That sounds nice, I’ll just text my mom.”

He makes sure you’re comfortable once you get to his place, offering you food, water, clothes, but you only take water, sitting on his bed next to him. All of a sudden, you’re both nervous again.

“You know we don’t have to do anything tonight. Or ever- if you don’t want to. I’ve never actually done anything, like sexual, but I’d be down if you wanted to - but really only if you wanted to. We can also just watch a film and cuddle or something,” his statement makes you more comfortable and you tell him what you’ve been thinking about.

“I’ve never done anything either but.. I’ve always wondered what getting head feels like. So what if you.. ate me out?”

His mouth hangs open and he stops functioning for a second, “I- I- I-”

“You don’t have to.”

“No- I really want to, trust me. But I don’t know how to do it, and I really want to make you cum.”

“I can guide you?”

He nods eagerly, attacking your lips with kisses and you giggle, lying down on your back.

Peter lies in between your legs and any insecurities you could have go out of the window with the way he’s looking at you right now. Pure admiration for you.

But there’s one more thing you need to know.

“Peter, what are we?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he blurts out at the same moment and you grin, nodding immediately.

You make out for a few more minutes after that, and by now your pussy could very well be compared to a waterfall.

Peter senses how impatient you’re getting and smiles at you while positioning himself between your thighs again.

You pull your panties off from underneath your skirt in a swift motion and smile at Peter’s immediate, positive reaction. He pushes your skirt up a bit and marvels at your wet pussy.

Peter swallows, “So, uh, what do I do now?”

That’s a good question.

You tell him to do various things you’ve seen in porn, or what you would imagine feels good.

Peter’s eager and he’s not doing a bad job, but you’re used to being in control yourself. What Peter’s doing with his tongue down there definitely feels good, especially considering it’s his first time.. but he can’t quite get you where you want to be.

You can’t wait to figure out together what feels best, for both of you. But right now you just want to cum.

“Peter-” he lifts his head, sweaty and flushed, to look at you, “It’s not that it doesn’t feel good, but even I’m not entirely sure what exactly you can do with your tongue to make me cum, so do you mind if I just quickly get off by myself?”

He doesn’t look hurt or offended, not that he should anyway, only more eager, racking his brain for an alternative. “What if you sit on my face?”

Now it’s your cheeks that feel hot, which doesn’t mean that you don’t like the idea, “I don’t want to suffocate you or anything..”

“I promise, you’ll notice if I’m dying,” he shrugs, getting ready to lie on his back.

“You sure?”

“Positive. Now buckle up,” he slaps your ass and grabs your hips.

You chuckle nervously, as you move up his body, currently just above his chest.

“One hundred percent?” you ask, and as an answer, he pulls you forward so your pussy is right above his mouth and he starts licking your clit.

You pull your skirt further up, so it won’t be in the way, and concentrate on Peter beneath you, already feeling that this position is working for you.

“Don’t move your tongue now,” you direct him, as his tongue presses against your clit deliciously.

Resting your hand against the wall for support you start grinding yourself against his tongue. From being so close to having an orgasm so many times in the last few minutes, you’re getting even closer now in a matter of seconds.

“Fuck- I’m gonna cum,” you sigh as you buck your hips against his face a few more times, feeling the shocks of your orgasm coursing through your whole body as you continue riding Peter’s face.

You lean back shortly after, too weak to get off of Peter’s chest for a few moments.

When you regain strength to push yourself off of him, you straddle his hips once more, only hovering over him though. Peter sits up to kiss you and you taste yourself on his thoroughly wet lips.

You sit back to look at him, sweaty hair hanging into his face and his whole mouth area is covered in you.

“That was amazing, Peter. I guess that means it’s finally your turn?” you wink.

He licks his lips, looking excited. You scoot back on his thighs to undo his belt and zip. His hard cock strains against the fabric of his boxers and your hand glides along his clothed length a few times, your other hand holding onto his shoulder.

Once you apply more pressure, Peter suddenly groans, his head falling against your chest and there’s a wet spot forming on his boxers.

“I- sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he mumbles, looking up again with a tight-lipped smile.

“Hey, no need to apologise. I mean you’ve been hard for like an hour, it was kinda due.”

He smiles against your lips and kisses you sweetly. You put your panties back on while he quickly cleans up.

Peter gives you some clothes to sleep in and you get comfortable in his bed while he changes into his pyjamas. He switches off the light, the street light shining through the window casting a nice glow over the room, and he gets something off of the floor.

You wait a few more seconds, but Peter’s still on the floor. Bending over the edge of the bed to see what he’s doing, you see that he’s lying there, ready to go to sleep.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Uh, I wasn’t sure if you were okay with sharing the bed.”

“I literally just sat on your face, I think we can sleep next to each other.”

Peter jumps up with a goofy grin, getting into bed with you.

“Sorry, just not used to you being my girlfriend yet,” he explains.

“Don’t worry, me neither. But I’m so happy that I am. I’ve liked you for so long,” you confess, scooting closer to him to cuddle.

“I’ve liked you longer - not that it’s a contest, but I’ve liked you since middle school, so I think I’ve got the bragging rights.”

You giggle at his words, kissing all over his neck.

“I thought we were going to sleep? You’re making me horny again,” he whispers, hands going to your waist.

“It’s only, like, midnight… and I’m not tired yet. So I wouldn’t mind going again..”

Peter takes up that offer immediately, rushing to turn the light back on and to start undressing you.

Let’s just say, you’re definitely tired after what happens next..

[chokememrstark]

There Is A House In New Orleans // Starker

Words: 1896

Warnings: Death, Ghosts, Alternative Universe, Mentions of Violence and Murder

Summary: During a work trip, Tony meets a young boy on his way home by the name of Peter. He quickly finds himself drawn to him and spends his evenings talking to him over the fence of his garden, but something about Peter is weird. Tony only finds out what it is after returning home and it turns everything upside down.

Notes: Special thanks to @darker-soft-starker for giving me feedback on it ;D

Read on AO3!

-----

Tony is on a business trip and on his way back to his hotel after lunch when he walks past a clearly abandoned house. Despite the obvious neglect and decay, which indicates it's been abandoned for many years, he can see a boy of about 17 in the overgrown garden.

He stops for a moment and watches him pick up flowers and then the boy looks up, giving him a smile. There's soft music filling the air, Tony assumes it's coming from inside the house, but after the smile the boy turns away and Tony leaves. It’s a bit weird, but well, he might just enjoy the flowers, right?

The next day, Tony sees him again. And the day after as well. Always outside, always with the same music playing, soft and calm but at the same time... eerie. As if something about the whole scene isn’t how it should be. As if he is watching something he isn’s supposed to see.

After four days, Tony calls out for the boy and talks to him. Much to his surprised, the boy seems eager for conversation and company and soon, Tony finds himself spending hours chatting with him while leaning over the fence.

The boy's name is Peter and he's very sweet and nice and funny, but something about him seems off. Tony can't say what it is, but it doesn’t matter, he enjoys talking to him and comes back to do just that for the following days. He believes things between them go well until he asks Peter to join him for dinner one evening.

The boy gives him a sad smile and tells him he can't go. After some talking, he admits that he can't leave. Confused, Tony asks why but he stays quiet and doesn't want to tell. Maybe his parents won’t allow him to leave with older men? Or maybe there’s a different reason, Tony doesn’t know. Still, he comes back to talk and soon, the invitation seems almost forgotten.

A few days later, Tony has to leave to return home. He's sad leaving Peter and Peter is even more sad that he has to go. Peter has no phone so he can't call him, so Tony promises to write instead. But once he's back home, things start to feel weird.

He does send a letter, but it gets returned with a note on it saying it can't be delivered.

Tony is even more confused and starts to dig and what he finds out is nothing he expected. He just wants to see if he mixed up the address but then he finds the newspaper articles and once the first headline pops up, he's too stunned to stop going further.

Teenage boy brutally murdered while parents are on vacation.

The Parker Mystery - Who killed Peter Parker?

Twenty years later, the killer is still unknown - Mr. and Mrs. Parker cleared of suspicion.

The more Tony reads, the more he starts to understand. And slowly, he's piecing things together. Especially Peter's reaction to Tony inviting him out for dinner.

"I'd love to join you, Tony, but I can't leave, I'm sorry. I have to stay here."

Was it that he couldn't leave because he was dead? That his spirit was bound to the place where he died? Did Tony actually talk to the ghost of a murdered boy or was this all a huge coincidence?

Finally, Tony decides that he needs to know for real and returns to New Orleans. When he comes back to the house, however, Peter is nowhere to be found. Frowning, Tony steps into the garden for the first time, the wooden fence door squeaking when he pushes it open.

"Peter?" Tony asks carefully, but there's no answer. He walks up to the door and pushes it and, without much surprise, he finds it unlocked.

The inside of the house confirms his first impression that it's been abandoned immediately and he feels his heart sink. There's dust and cobwebs everywhere and on the walls, several black cloths are hanging - they cover mirrors, he knows that. It's a tradition when someone died.

Slowly, Tony explores the rooms, still calling out for Peter but never getting an answer. Most rooms are empty, some furniture is knocked over here and there, but every room looks like it's been untouched for years.

And then, he finds a room with something strange. It looks to have been a living room of sorts, but the carpet on the floor looks weathered more than the ones in other rooms and right in the middle is an old Vitrola.

Curious, Tony steps up to it and kneels down, inspecting it. It's not dusty at all and looks very clean, even the record that's on it looks almost flawless. He reaches out to turn the crank and after a moment, the Vitrola springs to life.

Then, Tony hears it again. The beautiful music that he always heard while talking to Peter and it fills his heart with so much sadness he just wants to cry.

"You shouldn't have come back," a soft voice suddenly says and Tony spins around, finding Peter standing in the door. "There is nothing here for you."

"You are here," Tony says quietly and stands up, but he looks hesitant. "It's true, isn't it?"

Peter looks up, smiling sadly. "That I'm dead?" he asks and Tony nods silently. "It is, yes. I don't even know how long it's been, time doesn't really mean much anymore…"

"But… why can I see you? Why can I talk to you?" It makes no sense, he never believed in ghosts and this is just so surreal.

Peter sighs and pushes himself off the doorframe to walk over to Tony. He gently takes one of his hands and smiles.

"I've been here my whole life," he explains, not missing the shudder going through Tony at his touch. He's cold, he knows that. "I was born here and I died here and I never left, not even now…"

"You can touch me," Tony whispers and covers Peter's hands with his own. "I can touch you."

"You can, but only you," Peter nods. "I don't know how it works, my parents… they never saw or heard me. I tried to talk to them for so long and they got so scared they just left one day and never came back. No one else ever noticed me."

"So, you've been all alone for all those years?" Tony asks. Peter doesn't answer, he just looks at him with so much sadness in his eyes it breaks his heart.

"Some men were here a few days ago," Peter eventually says and pulls away from Tony to walk over to the floor length windows that provide a full view of the garden. "They didn't come inside, but I heard them talk."

"What did they do here?" Tony asks confused and Peter sighs.

"They want to buy the house," he says quietly. "They called it a disgrace and an eyesore…"

Tony gulps and in his head he replays all the stories he read as a kid about ghosts. If they destroy the house…

"What will happen if they do it?" he asks, somehow scared of the answer. "What will happen to you?"

"I… I don't know," Peter admits and wraps his arms around himself. "I know it's not pretty but it was once… I can't make it pretty again, I can't do anything…"

"Peter…" Tony feels so sad, this isn't right.

"I'm scared, Tony," Peter whispers and looks up at him, tears in his eyes. "What if they want to destroy the house? What about me? Where will I go then?"

Tony doesn't think, he just walks over and pulls Peter into his arms, hugging him as tight as he can. It's a strange feeling because he knows he shouldn't be able to and yet he can. Peter doesn't feel like anyone else but despite the cold and the unfamiliar feeling, despite knowing he's literally dead, he doesn't feel dead. Not to Tony at least.

"I'm so scared, Tony," Peter sniffs and Tony notices without any doubt that the boy is crying.

"It's okay, Peter," he says gently, rubbing the boy's back. "I'll help you, okay? You won't have to go anywhere."

"But the house, they… they want to buy it."

"I won't let them," Tony promises and he's serious. He can't stand seeing Peter so scared and he wants to help him, no matter how. "I'll fix this, alright? I promise I will."

"Thank you, Tony," Peter sniffs and for a long time they just stay like this, Tony holding him tight as the sun slowly sets outside.

-

It's a week later that Tony managed to sort everything out. He found the owners of the place, Peter's parents sold the property a few years after moving to an old lady on the other side of the town, and he managed to buy it off her easily by doubling the offer the other men made.

After that, all he had to do was take care of his own business. It would be a little inconvenient for him, sure, but he didn't care. He could manage his company from anywhere in the world and once he'd have a phone and internet, everything would work out fine.

When he returns to the house, Peter looks scared once more and pretty much runs into his arms as soon as he steps inside.

"Tony! There were even more people here and they talked about renovating and I don't know what to do!" he sobs, clinging to the man helplessly.

"Shhh, it's all good, those people work for me," Tony tells him with a smile and hugs the boy tight.

"For you?"

"They do, yes," Tony smiles and pulls back. "I promised I'd fix this, didn't I?"

"You did, but… but how?" Peter looks so confused it's adorable.

"I bought the property, now it's mine and I'll make sure it will go back to how it was before," he explains, watching Peter's eyes widen.

"R-Really?" he asks shocked. "It's yours now? I don't have to leave?"

"Even better, come, I'll show you," Tony chuckles and leads Peter outside. He walks over to his car that's parked nearby as Peter watches and takes out two suitcases.

"What's this?" Peter asks, earning another smile.

"I figured why stop with buying the house?" Tony shrugs as he carries his belongings inside. "Unless you mind the company?"

"Wait, you'll stay? Here? With me?"

"That's the plan," Tony confirms with a bright smile. "I'll stay and we can fix this place up together, what do you say?"

"Oh my god, thank you, thank you!" Peter throws himself back into Tony's arms so hard he has no other choice but to drop his suitcases and catch the boy, laughing. "Thank you so much, Tony!"

"Of course, darling," Tony laughs, pressing a kiss to Peter's head before hugging him. Is it weird that he moves in with a ghost? Maybe, but he likes Peter and the poor boy doesn't deserve any if this.

"I'm so happy you'll stay, I promise I'll be good and help you as much as I can," Peter promises and Tony can't help but chuckle again.

"I'm happy too, Peter," he smiles softly. "You won't have to be alone anymore, I promise. I'll stay with you."

[marvelsbetch]

Peter Parker’s over protective boyfriend

In this fic Peter's 20 and Wade's 22.

-Peter's POV-

I was out on patrol when it happened. There was a robbery at a nearby jewellery store and so I decided to check it out. Little did I know that the men robbing the store had knives and were skilled. While fighting one of the men another came out of no where and stabbed me in the side. Not fun. Quickly, I knocked them both out and webbed them for the police to find. Swinging home was a pain, literally. Every time I moved my right arm my side felt like it was being ripped open. Soon, I made it home to mine and my boyfriend's apartment hoping he wasn't in. If he wasn't then that meant I could clean my wounds and start to heal with very little interruption. If he was in that meant he was going to fuss over me for hours and make cleaning and dressing the wound near impossible. Now, don't get me wrong, I love my boyfriend. But, he can be over protective sometimes about me and care a little too much about my injuries.

"Hey Pete you o-" Wade started to great me as I entered the window but stopped when he saw my side. Shoot. "What happened?!" He yelled.

"Wade, I know this looks bad but I'm fine. Just a simple stab wound that will go away in a few days. I promise I'm fine." I tried to reason with him as I made my way to the bathroom with him following.

"Fine? Fine?!" He yelled again. "Last time I checked fine wasn't bleeding all over the bathroom!"

"Wade, it's okay. I'll be back to normal in a few days. A week at most. Stop freaking out." I told him placing my slightly bloody hand on his shoulder and giving a reassuring smile.

"No. No. No. No. I refuse to listen to it. It was the same last week and the week before. You can't keep going out there and putting your self at risk like this." Wade told me making my blood boil.

"You can't tell me what I can and can't do. I can do what I want." I told him angrily.

"I'm simply looking out for you. You look out for the little guy and I'll look out for you. I'm not doing my job as a loving boyfriend if I let you continue to go out there and end up like this." He told me getting noticeably angrier.

"Your Job?! Well I'm sorry I didn't realise I was such hard work!" I yelled at him.

"I didn't mean it like that. I meant that as a boyfriend I should be looking out for you. I made a promise to your Aunt that I would keep you safe and I'm trying to keep that promise." He told me making me turn around to look in the mirror and address my wounds once again.

"I don't need you to look out for me. I'm a ground man, I can do that myself." I snapped at him.

"Fine. Sorry for caring." He sighed leaving the room shutting the door behind him.

A few seconds later I heard the front door open and close. What have I done?

Once my wounds were cleaned and dressed properly I changed into comfortable clothing and walked into the living room expecting to see Wade lay on the sofa and saying that leaving the apartment was just a joke. All I saw was an empty room. He was no where in the apartment or the roof, I checked multiple times.

Did he just break up with me? What have I done?

-1 week later-

"Come on Underoos, you gotta get up eventually." Tony reasoned stood in the doorway of my bedroom.

After Wade left I rarely left my bed. The apartment didn't feel right without Wade's constant comments. Nothing felt right with out him, everything was so empty. The living room seemed cold without him lay on the sofa watching tv and talking about the stupid she he was watching. The bathroom was filled with memories of when he left. The kitchen wasn't a mess because of the latest food concoction that he created. Don't even get me started on the bedroom. No warm body to snuggle at night. No grinning stupid face to wake up to. No one making comments as I change. No one to make comments to as they change. No one. No one to laugh with. No one to cry with. Just no one.

"No. He left because I was a dick. He left because of me. I'm not good enough. If I'm not good enough then why would I get up? To ruin someone else's life? Inconvenience someone else?" I asked pulling the quilt over my head.

"Fine, I'll be in the living room and I'm not leaving until you get up, eat and get a shower. I care about you Kid." He sighed before leaving the room.

After a few minutes I thought about what he said. I'm sure he has something more important to do. May as well just do what he says and get him out of the apartment.

Slowly I got out of bed and walked into the living. What I saw was the best thing. Wade was sat on the sofa with Tony nibbling on his own finger nails. A habit he does when he's nervous.

"Wade?" I asked hopefully.

"Oh baby!" He cried running towards me and pulling me into a big hug.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you, I regret it so much." I sobbed into his shoulder relishing in the feeling of his arms around me.

"So, you moving back in?" Tiny asked.

"If it's okay with Peter." Wade sighed still not letting go of me.

"I'm more than happy to let you back in." I told him smiling at the thought of the apartment feeling right again.

"Thank god. I got tired of you mopping around the penthouse." Tony said with relief.

"What?" I asked confused.

"When he walked out of the apartment he came to the penthouse crying. He explained the whole argument to us and asked if he could stay with us. We thought it was gonna be a day and you'd get over it but a week later he never left the bedroom. He staying in the room I had done for you for when you stayed with us. He'd sleep in your shirts and cuddle another while he slept. He was rough. Then I came over here and found you in the same position so I dragged him here to make up with you. So kiss and make up and I can leave." Tony told us.

"If you insist." Wade joked pulling away slightly to connect our lips.

We kissed for a few minutes faintly hearing the apartment door open and close indicating Tony's departure. Soon the kiss become more heated and we found ourselves in the bedroom.

The rest is history...

[sparkwhorunswithwolves]

Hey, so I just kind of fell into this fandom a few weeks ago and you seem like a really nice person :) Do you maybe have some fic recs?

Hi! Welcome to the fandom~

I have a lot of fic recs (ft. my own not that helpfull summeries), so in no particular order:

Running with Wolves

Stiles goes back in time and becomes a werewolf.

Odnowione życie 

Stiles goes back in time, twice.

The Tragedy of Achilles Hale 

petopher— Peter is looking for Chris’ and his bio son he thought had died shortly after he was born— while he accidentally starts parenting Jackson. His biological son. Not that either of them knows that.

A Beauty, a Beast, and a Stiles

Stiles gets bitten instead of Scott ft. stallison

A New Start

post canon pre!stira

Adult Supervision (Position Open, Searching for Responsible Adult)    

Kira and Stiles get eaten by a giant evil dimension traveling turtle and complain about the adults

Missing Scenes 

missing... well, scenes

Similarities 

IED!Liam bonds with ADHD!Stiles

Afar 

stallison bonding over Skype while Stiles stays with family recovering from the nogitsune

Curious pup 

Stiles’ curiosity is a perfectly good reason to go to Eichen and ask Peter an Valek about organ transplants

Shatter

Stiles and Scott bond over Deaton being an ass and Stiles not being able to be Scott’s emissary 

And the Walls Come Crumbling Down

stallison joining Peter’s pack while Scott is losing control and going after Allison

Conscience 

the parking garage scene, but Stiles’ dad was involved in covering up the fire

It's All In Your Head 

more ADHD!Stiles

Stained Glass Windows 

petopher— Peter and the kids survive the fire, and struggles to keep the kids alive and happy while finding the one who killed their family, with help of Chris

Give You the Sunset 

Peter leaves Beacon Hills, Stiles helps

The Argent-Stilinski Household 

Chris/Noah— Stiles and Allison find out their dads are secretly dating, kill everything that tries to kill them witout them finding out, Peter helps and becomes an alpha again. Also: a wedding, aliens, and Tony Stark trying to kill Stiles because he told Steve to hide his coffee

Nothing Ever Happens in Sioux Falls 

Stiles stays with Bobby Singer, and, Stiles being Stiles, gets involved in the local drama

foreverish and selfsubtracting 

Stiles, Lydia, and Danny lose their friends in Beacon Hills, get abducted by a carnivorous, space-bending library, and meet some Avengers. 

^^I’d add my own summery but that’s pretty much it

we've been here before 

Stiles accidentally resurrects a bunch of people. Whoops?

the sound of iron on stone 

Stiles goes back in time, but get cursed and can’t go anywhere near the supernatural

Right, wrong and everything in between 

Peter bonds with bb!Stiles over gummybears and selfworth

Inevitable 

Stiles and Scott get trapped in a time loop, kill people, get killed, call each other a monster, and Stiles gets the pack he deserves.

i looked at you and saw forever

stallison s1 rewrite ft. soulmates

Triumvirate Outtakes 

sequel to I looked at you, warning for very big spoiler if you havent read it first

Mirror-and-Steve Boy 

Stiles is Steve’s and Bucky’s grandson. Because science.

I am no sidekick 

Stiles Stilinski & Peter Parker oh my god they were roommates

dust off these cobwebs 

unrelated, but same concept as the one above

Hard to Believe it's Not Dead and Gone 

tw/soa zombie crossover

There Are Many Names In History (but none of them are ours)

petopher²— Peter and Chris are stuck with their teenaged selves for the foreseeable future, ft past relationship, current feelings, and me still crying about that one scene 3 years later

you're never too much of an old dog to teach a duckling a new trick 

Chris offers to train Stiles. Stiles isn’t Allison

Bet You Didn't See That Coming 

The pack takes Stiles’ memories, thinking it’d keep him safe. Except he’s a Winchester who doesn’t need protecting

Mothers And Fathers 

Stiles is Bruce Banner’s son. It goes about as well as you’d expect

Normal Adolescent Lycanthrope Behavior 

all the teens are in a polyam relationship, ft alive Hales, asshole Wittemores, and trees used as baseballbats

Tell Me No Lies 

Peter gets hit by a truth spell, Stiles is the only one who isn’t an ass about it

Those Who See 

Stiles threatens Peter who’s trapped in a mountain ash circle

Not a Spark, But a Burn 

Stiles goes back in time to before the Hale fire (haven’t read this one in ages so I can’t be more specific)

another pretty vein (just dies) 

Stiles is psychic

Allies

missing scenes between Derek and Chris

You're Gonna Need Someone On Your Side 

Chris wants to train Stiles because of hunter politics, Stiles thinks mutual kidnappig is the perfect way to bond with his new mentor, and Derek is just genrally bad at feelings.

Long Lost 

Stiles is Harvey Specters long lost half brother. It goes a lot worse than expected

Falling into place

teen wolf/suits crossover, but this time they’re all werewolves

The Hotel Key 

petopher— Chris gets kidnapped; the hotel key in his wallet has nothing to do with it

The Inconveniences of Being Dead 

petopher— Chris helps Peter with the, well, inconveniences of being dead. Or as I like to call it: the accidental sugar daddy au ft. cats

[spideyspoods]

minor inconvenience

Pairing: Peter Parker X F!Reader

Request: Combined @astrospideys & @spideypeach ‘s milestone celebration prompt (”a kiss. for good luck.”) with an anon request! “Hello dear! If you don’t mind can you write about peter and his childhood bestfriend being more than friend, but Peter is in dilema because he realized he wanted more but he doesn’t want to put the reader in danger because he’s spiderman. You can decide whether the reader knows Peter is spiderman or not. Thanks a lot!” 

A/N: I’m truly sorry to everyone that this is so late, school’s been kicking my ass. However, I’m kind of proud of this one so I hope you enjoy! :)

Warnings: Fluff.

Word Count: 2k

---

Peter Parker wasn’t one to get distracted during school. In fact, he prides himself on being a great student; one who rarely failed tests. However, he’s noticed that his mind starts to wander whenever he’s around Y/N L/N. They’ve known each other since they were in the first grade and have practically been attached at the hip. Their friendship grew stronger as the years progressed, but Peter couldn’t help but yearn for more.

He remembers May teasing him about how close they were ever since they started to hang out. He’d constantly deny her claims by calling her ‘just a friend,’ but do friends feel their heart leap at the mere sight of the other? Peter’s been stuck in his own thoughts, thoughts of her, for the past few months trying to convince himself that it wasn’t a crush. However, his heart said otherwise.

He wanted to confess his feelings for her so badly, but there was a minor inconvenience to his idea. Y/N had no idea that he was Spider-Man. Despite telling each other everything, he failed to mention his alter ego. It’s not like he wanted to hide it, he just didn’t want to endanger her.

So with that, the bell rang as Peter headed out the door and to his locker. “Parker!” a voice called out. He turned his head and found the girl of his dreams stepping towards him. Her eyes seemed to sparkle, vibrance and sunshine practically radiating off of her. “We’re still on for tonight? Your place?”

“I don’t know, I was thinking of going to Delmar’s,” he trailed off, jokingly. She feigned a pout, crossing her arms. “Rude. To think I was going to bring you some gummy worms-”

“Hm, I guess that sweetens the deal.” Y/N rolled her eyes at the pun, “What? Is my own presence not enough for you?” It is. Peter’s mind went foggy, trying to recover from his thoughts. “I’m joking! Now get to class, I’ll see you later.” She nodded, “I’ll let Ned know. Later, nerd.” Y/N turned before disappearing into the midst of students and left Peter with a lovestruck look. He had completely forgotten Ned would be joining them.

---

“Hey, you know how we’re studying tonight with Y/N?” Peter asked, poking at the tray of food in front of him. Ned nodded, taking a sip of water. “You mean like we always do every Thursday?”

“Well yeah, but this time it’s different. Would it be able to be just me and her tonight?”

Ned quirked a brow, “Why? Wait a minute,” he gasped “are you finally dating? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Peter’s eyes bulged out his head, frantically shaking his head before hushing his friend who may have been a bit too loud. “Because it hasn’t happened yet! I was kind of trying to make that happen tonight.”

“No worries, I got you. I’ll let her know that something came up. But you owe me.”

“Anything!”

“Help me rebuild the death star.” Peter shrugged, that wasn’t too bad.

“Wait rebuild?!”

---

The minute Peter got home, he ran to his room. He took in the sight of opened drawers and papers strewn across his desk. He glanced at his watch. 5 PM. She’d be here by 7. He huffed, knowing that he had a lot of work to do.

---

May set her purse down by the couch and slipped off her shoes. “Peter, I’m home!” Silence. At first she didn’t think anything of it, before seeing that the living room was in pristine condition as if it was a hotel. “Peter?” She opened the door to his room that was now organized; every single item had its place. “I’m not complaining, but is there something going on?” Peter turned from the mirror and to his confused Aunt, “Y/N is coming over.”

“She always does, but this cleaning thing is pretty foreign for you.” Then it all clicked in her head. “Are you finally going to ask her out?” Peter’s eyes wandered to the wall, still extremely focused on adding the right amount of gel to his dark locks. “What no it’s not like that,” he turned to his Aunt “but if I was going to ask her out...does my hair look okay?”

---

His phone buzzed, and he saw a notification from Y/N.

On my way! :) Attached was a photo of her holding the large bag of gummy worms to her head. He smiled to himself, that was definitely her new contact photo. Right as he locked his phone, he got a call. “Requiring back up! Robbery three blocks away-” Damn it. He let out a sigh, but slipped his suit on. “May tell Y/N that I’m going to be a little late!”

“You haven’t told her that you’re Spider-Man yet?”

“No! I just- it’s complicated. I gotta go!”

---

Y/N knocked on the apartment door to reveal Peter’s Aunt. She smiled, welcoming her in. “Hey, Y/N! Peter said that he’d be running late but feel free to make yourself at home. I have a few errands to run, so you’re in charge!” Y/N shot her a thumbs up. “Don’t worry, Peter running late isn’t anything new anymore.Thank you, May!” She breezed out the door and Y/N set her things down in Peter’s room. “Wait a minute.” Peter’s room was actually neat? 

In all ten years of knowing him, he had never been one to tidy up. Not that he was a slob, he just lived in organized chaos. Without the clutter on his shelves, she could finally see the photos in the picture frames. There were a few of him and Tony, courtesy of the Stark Internship, one with Ned, an older photo with May, but one stood out the most.

A photo of her with Peter during their freshman homecoming. Neither of them had a date, and May thought it would be cute for the two of them to go together. Little did he know, that was the day Y/N started to fall for Peter Parker. Sure she had always loved him platonically, but something changed in high school. His chocolate eyes were always gentle and the way his brows furrowed whenever he concentrated was enough to make her swoon. The only thing stopping her from admitting her feelings was the reason that she was sure he didn’t feel the same. Not only that, but what if it made things awkward? So she compromised, keeping her feelings to herself.

Minutes turned into hours and Peter still wasn’t back yet. It was already 10, and Y/N decided to make herself comfortable. Surely he wouldn’t mind if she borrowed one of his sweatshirts?

---

Peter slowly opened his window, before jumping into his room. For some reason, everyone decided to commit crimes at the same time. He froze, seeing Y/N lying in his bed sleeping. He frowned, feeling guilty that he left her all alone. Peter scrambled for his clothes and looked around. Now where was the sweatshirt he left out?

“What the hell?” he heard a groggy voice call out. Y/N was now wide awake, staring back at him. A spandex suit clung to his legs and his face paled. 

“Okay-”

“I knew it! So you are Spider-Man!” she exclaimed in glee.

“No- wait you knew?”

“Well I thought you were and I asked Ned, but he said no very unconvincingly. So there’s that.” Of course she knew.

“I’m sorry for ditching you, wait is that my sweater?” He smiled to himself, and winced before clutching his side. Y/N choked, but noticed that he was in pain. “Yes, but I don’t think that matters right now. You’re literally bleeding and oh-” Past what just happened, she noticed that he was shirtless. Her eyes lingered longer than they should have, before dragging him to the bathroom to find rubbing alcohol.

The wound burned, but the mere sight of her seemed to dull the pain. “You know this reminds me an awful lot about the first time we met.”

Peter sat down on the hardtop at school, with a small lego set in front of him. He had just watched his first Star Wars movie with his Uncle Ben last week, and ever since then he had been enamored by each of the characters and spaceships. For his birthday, he got a small tie fighter lego set and he brought it to school so he could assemble it during recess. He didn’t have many friends, but he was okay with that. A fellow group of first graders approached him and snickered, “Where are the rest of your friends? Oh wait, you don’t have any!” followed by giggles. He ignored them, it wasn’t anything new after all. 

“I’m talking to you, dork!” The kid in front of him let out a yell before letting his small foot crush the legos underneath. “No!” Peter whimpered. The pack of bullies started to laugh even harder before they heard a high pitched voice yell. “Stop it!” A little girl with pigtails stomped towards them, “You’re not being nice! Leave him alone!” The blonde kid scoffed, “What? Are you friends with this dork?” She stood in front of a frowning Peter and crossed her little arms, “He’s not a dork! He’s my friend! Go or I’m telling the teacher!” At that, they all scrambled. The little girl turned back to Peter who sniffled. “Hey, I’m Y/N! Can I help you build your spaceship?” Y/N smiled wide, showing off her missing front teeth. Peter wiped away his tears with his sleeve, “Okay, do you watch Star Wars?”

“Yes! It’s my favorite! Do you want to be friends?”

“Yeah.”

Both of them were brought back to reality, a smile dancing upon their faces as they remembered what had happened years ago. “You were cute back then.” Y/N smirked, “Are you saying that I’m not cute anymore?” Peter tensed up. Uh oh. “No, not at all! You’re not cute,” her face fell “That’s not what I- You’re very pretty.” He dug himself in a deep hole. “Well thank you, Parker-”

“You’re also really nice, and funny, and smart. You’re a great person, Y/N.” He huffed out. Now or never, right? On the other hand, Y/N looked down, trying to hide the child-like grin on her face. “I wasn’t aware that it was compliment time-”

“I think I like you. Well not think, I know I like you. I have for a while.” He felt her touch slowly slip away. Great, he thought, you screwed it up. “Did I make you uncomfortable? I’m sorry-” Y/N got up to quickly press her lips to his. It was short, but he could feel the passion and intensity.

“You talk too much.” Their heartbeats echoed in their ears. 

“Wait so you like me?” She nodded, a blissful smile on her face. “For the longest time, I just thought you didn’t feel the same way.”

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to get hurt because of my job.” He stated, looking into her eyes. “That’s a risk I’m okay with taking.” He tentatively kissed her again, resting his hand on top of hers. “I really like you, Y/N.”

“I like you too, Peter Parker. Now, just because you’re cute doesn’t make up for the fact that you haven’t helped me study for the physics quiz tomorrow.”

---

Y/N and Peter strolled through the halls hand in hand. They approached Y/N’s next class; physics. Both of them stopped by the door with a smile. “Relax, you’ll ace this.” Peter spoke. She bit her lip, “You’re just saying that.” He grazed her hand with his thumb before planting a kiss on her cheek. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” she smiled. 

“It was a kiss. For good luck.”

“That’s cute, I’ll catch you later.” Y/N entered her class, while Peter stood in the hallway. “When did that happen?” Ned called out, but Peter was too enthralled in his own bliss to answer back.

He fell for her hard, and he was okay with that.

---

Thank you for reading! Feedback and comments are appreciated, but not required! My taglist and requests are open as well! :)

Taglist: @parkeret @savedbystark @harrysbbby @cutiepiemimi13 @leelee--thebaek @softrdj @happylittlesuns @lovertony @anolddayslover @astromilku @ninja-boss-barbie @hollandsthot @laic2299 @euphoniumpets 

[bigskydreaming]

What kind of house/apt do adult successful Scanny have?

I think it would be something smallish and unassuming on the outside, very approachable. Maybe even like, a townhome or a duplex or something like that, depending on what city Scott ultimately settles in with whatever pack he builds up around him there vs whomever stays in Beacon Hills.

I don’t have any specific headcanons for where Scott relocates to, its just very important to me that he does, because like. He deserves to get far, far away from Beacon Hills. There are too many bad memories there. Its where he died. Its where Allison died, Boyd, Erica. Like, all the bad things that linger with Scott came from Beacon Hills and that damn evil attention-seeking tree stump, and all the good things that linger with Scott are one hundred percent the product of his own actions and the relationships he fostered with the people that became important to him. 

There’s nothing in Beacon Hills that gives Scott anything he doesn’t already have by this point, no reason for him to stay other than his mother, who can literally just move as well. But not with Chris Argent. On account of like, well he died too. It was very sad and tragic, I don’t want to talk about it. Tears were shed, its all still really fresh and raw, we should probably just move on. Its what he would want. Probably. Also who cares, ding dong he’s dead and Melissa’s married to some nice doctor who’s never pulled a gun on her son, as well as possessing other qualities that meet somewhat higher standards, I’m sure.

Anyway. We were talking about Scott saying hasta la vista baby to Beacon Hills followed then by a slow motion dramatic walkaway shot before he gets on his motorcycle, adjusts his mirrors, revs the throttle all action movie star-esque, and also sexily -  look, they’re not always automatically the same thing -  and then he drives away forever from that toxic cesspit of a homicidal zipcode where square footage is calculated in terms of dead bodies. Leaving behind all the like, million and one reasons for him to say Bye Beacon Hills, see you never, try not to become a central locus for evil, but also, I don’t care if you do, it is hashtag NotMyResponsibilityAnymore. But also, I mean. It never was. Just FYI.

And then he flips the town off and accelerates off into the sunset while the town eats his dust, and admittedly Scott isn’t really the type to throw around middle fingers even where deserved, but fuck it, I’m projecting onto him and its my headcanon and I say that pile of excrement in real estate form needs to be flipped off and also, like. Its just an aesthetic thing. For the visuals. Its the whole dramatic end scene, roll credits, “I came, I saw and I blew shit up and now I’m off to reunite with my love interest and have vigorous victory sex” vibe. You get it.

So they relocate somewhere, wherever that is. I honestly don’t care, so long as its nice and doesn’t murder them or inflict gratuitous bodily harm every week and the nearest Satanic foliage is at least two statelines away. Preferably with a thriving supernatural community where Scott and his pack can all feel welcome and like they belong, rather than outsiders eternally hiding in plain sight among potential enemies. Like, somewhere where their neighbors are all vampires and Fae and other supernaturals, but only so long as like, the only reason they ever come over is to borrow a cup of sugar. Never to betray them to randomly resurrected enemies or guilt trip them into solving someone else’s centuries old and completely pointless grudgematch of Unnecessary Drama and Also Doom.

And wherever it is, the pack have their own dwellings and much needed privacy. Far enough apart that even supernatural hearing and smell don’t have them all playing Peeping Tom whether they like it or not, every time a couple wants to get frisky, but close enough together that they’re all still together, and know that more pack, more community, is always just a short walk away.

Scott and Danny’s place is some sort of small but cozy townhome or duplex or something like that, as I said. Scott’s always very aware of his presence and reputation and the power he both commands and also is afforded by peoples’ embellished expectations regarding him. So it was really important to Scott, and thus important to Danny, that their home be unpretentious. Inviting and approachable and not ‘above’ anyone else, or trying to be. Somewhere that when you got to their street and checked the address if you’re new in town and looking for an audience with True Alpha Scott McCall, you stop and do a double take and almost have to revise whatever preconceptions you have, or at least put them on hold, because like…this is where the famous True Alpha lives? Its so…ordinary.

But that’s the point after all….because the more he was looked at as standing apart from all others, the more ‘ordinary’ became the only thing Scott’s really ever aspired to be.

So its not poor, by any means. They do well for themselves, the whole pack, like you said, Scott and Danny are successful in this future. They have jobs that afford them both a sense of purpose and fulfillment of longheld interests, as well as the potential for discovering more, rather than getting locked into things that grow stale overtime as they outgrow fantasy careers that seemed more validating when they were kids dreaming of the future.

Also their jobs, whatever they might be, make them at least successful enough that it allows them both a large degree of autonomy. They can pick their own schedules, more or less. They have finances, but none that will be massively disrupted or stress-inducing if Scott has to take time off for a couple weeks to help a neighboring pack relocate somewhere new after they flee from hunters. Something where Scott’s never forced to choose between his job and keeping him and his pack financially afloat, versus someone needing his help and it not immediately apparent how long that might take resolve. The dream is stability and comfort, and enough personal agency for Scott in how and where he gets both of those, that he never feels like he’s letting down either his pack or innocents asking for his help, because the demands of his job or finances make him feel like it has to be one or the other, he can’t possibly do both.

Ideally, that flexible schedule means that when Scott isn’t helping others, something he now does by choice and simply because he wants to and he can, not because he’s made to feel he has to, like its his responsibility and his alone, because certain boundary-blind best friends have decided they want to play Peter Parker but are gonna need Scott to step up and play the actual Spider-Man part and lend his power even when someone else gets to decide for him when its his responsibility. Oopsie, I tripped and fell and my Bitter Resentment and Still Not Over It slipped out. Oh no. How terrible. Much woe.

Ahem. Anyway. As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted by myself, Scott’s flexible schedule means that when he’s not using it to help others, he has enough left over that he can afford (and justify to himself) using it for himself and his own personal enjoyment and interests, actually prioritize and commit to his own self-care, because a healthy, happy Alpha is a healthy, happy Pack. Someone said that once, probably. Probably not Hobbes. Definitely heard that somewhere though. Trust me, I’m a doctor. 

So with the aid of this newfangled invention produced by cutting edge technology, this quote unquote “Free Time…”  Scott explores other interests. His own. Le gasp, le shocking, le about the fuck time. He explores the novelty of being able to even have hobbies, because depressingly (why am I like this, science side of tumblr), there was once a time when Scott stopped bothering trying to figure out what all he was interested in, because he kinda assumed he’d be long dead before it ever had a chance to matter.

But by the power invested in me by Fuck You, Jeff Davis, in this future, none of that comes to pass. So free time and personal passions for Scott. He has them, in abundance. So like. He gardens, for sure. That’s why I specified a duplex or townhouse instead of an apartment in a complex or building….they live somewhere where they at least have their own garden or yard. Scott designs and implements it personally, something like his own personal Zen garden on a scale commensurate with What He Deserves. He goes outside whenever he’s starting to feel stressed about some obligation or commitment or another, and just….plays. 

That’s what it is to him. He just plants things. Prunes things. Adds fountains or bird feeders or statuary, little personalized touches here and there that make his own personal territory uniquely his and his alone. Gardening in his yard is His Time in His Space, and all the pack know better than to interrupt him when he’s out in his yard working away, unless its an absolute emergency. 

Danny enforces this with an iron fist and an ability to tank your credit score and spread all your most embarrassing pictures internet-wide with just a single keystroke. And Danny is the enforcer Scott doesn’t have to be. People forget that everyone loves Danny….but in no small part due to his usual proximity to Jackson. Next to Jackson, everyone looks like an angel. But Danny, on his own? Can be mean. Will be mean, if you touch or hurt or threaten or even just inconvenience his man, because like, who the fuck do you think you are and also it doesn’t even matter because he just replaced your whole identity online and if you’re nice and apologize and kiss ass without Scott ever having to know What You Almost Did, maybe Danny will have mercy on you and actually let you know what your new identity is, so you can use it to like, make a new life with the details he made up to replace your old personal info that no longer gets you anywhere. 

Danny - that’s Miss Nasty if you mess with his husband - is chaotic neutral with an exception for “this is my list of special people. Touch any of them and my alignment is Chaotic Evil for however long as until I have personally escorted you to your Doom and physically kicked you into a bottomless pit where you will suffer for eternity.” 

But then he smiles and charms everyone into only remembering lol oh yeah, everybody likes Danny, so that once again, everyone forgets that’s at least partially self-preservation because if you don’t love Danny and everyone Danny loves, like, you’re dumb and also screwed. Why are you bad at making good choices. 

Don’t feel bad though. Danny’s very good at making people forget this part, t least until the next time he reminds people of that little piece of trivia. Have you seen him smile? Its like that flashing bulb thing Will Smith uses in Men in Black to make people forget what they just saw or were doing. Except without any supervision and/or morality because fuck your ethics, its Danny’s bewitching smile, he’ll use it however he wants. Get your own.

(The thing is, any best friend of Jackson has to have at least a little capacity for Evil. Danny just hides it well, thanks to the cloaking camouflage of Actually Having a Soul in Addition, and like, being a people person who actually understands how people work and how not to alienate them by being a total uncaring jackass 24/7. Its a fine line, except its really not, and Danny is very talented at all things and possesses an abundance of charm. Plus he’s just hot, and like. Let’s face it. That always helps. I mean, definitely never hurts).

The end result of all this tangent-having, is that Scott has enough him time and enough of a barrier from people constantly distracting him, that the exterior of Scott and Danny’s place, for all its otherwise ordinary appearance, Scott has over time turned into his own personal slice of paradise, and is exactly what that looks like to him. 

See, the thing about Scott is no matter how hard he tries to be ordinary and value being just like everyone else and get lost in the crowd…..he never will quite manage it, because Scott just isn’t like anyone else. He’s good, in a way that too few people even aspire to be, because so many people just think its not possible. Especially not after having lived through the kinds of traumas Scott has, been dealt an especially unlucky hand. But Scott manages it anyway, in spite of everything, spiting every thing that tries to make him be anything lesser….and because of that, he’ll always stand at least a little apart from the crowd, be a little distinct from the rest, impossible to ever fully be lost or muted by any crowd of any size.

And the little slice of the world Scott makes just his and Danny’s, no one else’s. He doesn’t even need to share it with his pack without it being any less inviting to his pack for all that. It reflects this understated aspect of Scott, this impossible to quantify essence of him that he himself is too unassuming to ever fully realize is there, and everyone else just accepts without questioning…because they’ve learned by now when you’re given a gift, just accept it and appreciate it.

So in structure and layout, their home is nothing special, but amidst a neighborhood of similar structures, it pops all the same. It draws the eye without dominating your vision. It makes you want to look at it, want to come closer, want to be around it, much like the man who designed it. Who made it, cares for it, and never neglects it or takes it for granted. Its always green, year round, and filled with a variety of flowers that come from all over the world but can all complement each other and coexist without endangering any of the neighboring plants. None of them overgrowing the garden or in any way being at any of the other plants’ expense. 

They’re like Scott’s pack in that way….of all shapes and sizes, coming from all around the world, of all kinds of types, not even just limited to werewolves. All beautiful, all unique, all existing in harmony. Even though Scott’s never shared this with anyone else, in his mind, each flower or plant he adds to his garden represents one specific member of his pack. Its Theirs, its what he associates with them. In this way, they’re all represented, it reminds him whatever conflict arises internally, its nothing they can’t ultimately all work out without compromising any single individual. And with each plant needing its own special attention and time devoted to cultivating it and caring for it, they serve as proxies for the pack members they represent.  

Due to this, Scott can tell himself with just a glance at his garden - reassure himself, whenever his self-doubts get the better of him and he starts to beat himself up for not being there enough for someone or neglecting someone or not doing better - but with his garden, just going outside and checking it over can remind Scott that he’s not neglecting anyone. Because every time he tends to the plant that represents a pack member, Scott reflects on that pack member as he does so. Just going over what they’ve been up to, mentally checking in on them, casting about to see if he’s noticed any sign something’s been bothering them, making sure to spend one on one time with them. 

He can’t tend to a plant without associating it with their linked pack member….and in this way, as long as he can look around and take in with a glance the sight of his garden, all carefully tended to, no plant neglected, all watered and pruned and harmonious and appreciated….and it serves as a visual reminder with which to reassure himself….he’s not forgetting anyone, overlooking anyone. Nobody’s being neglected, he’s always thinking about his pack and keeping their best interests at heart and if any problems do pop to mind while he’s tending to one of his plants or flowers, of course that would be the first thing he’d make a plan to go check in on and address personally, once he’s making his rounds later and having a little face time and conversation with his various packmates.

Of all the flowers and various plant types in his garden, there’s only one fruit….a single eye catching and lovingly attended orange tree. That’s Danny. They’re his favorite, and orange is his favorite color. There’s just something unique about it. Especially in the midst of so much green.

The flowers nearest the front door and around the external structures of the building, a pillar underneath the small, roofed-in entrance way, perhaps, a gate at the front of the property, next to the driveway, maybe a trellis along the wall just next to the door…..the flowers adorning and framing the entrance to their home are a carefully arranged spray of seven different hues. 

A literal rainbow, advertising this House and All Who Live Here Be Gaaaaaaay.

Scott’s always had a sly, understated sense of humor. Mischievous, but not usually at anyone’s expense, and subtle enough that most people don’t tend to credit him with having much of a sense of humor. He does though….he’s just never needed words to express it.

Advertising himself and his personal pride with a literal year round rainbow that’s still subtle enough that most people don’t clue into its layered meaning or implications without being told. Later in life, stable and safe and more centered, Scott gets a pretty big kick out of how often people fail to see what’s right in front of them. Him living his best life on his own terms and not even being shy about it….and if other people can’t connect the dots on their own….its a pity, Scott muses with a mostly internalized laugh, that most people are just in too big a hurry or too eager to take things at face value to truly see what their surroundings look like and are full of.

Danny gets the joke, and thinks its hilarious how few other people figure it out. But that’s mostly just because Danny can be kind of a dick. He’s sorry not sorry. Its not his fault people are dumb. RIP to 90% of humanity, but he has braincells.

He and Scott complement each other well.

Similarly, just as Scott’s personal space is outdoors, natural, and helps him feel part of the world, feel part of nature, connected to it and in harmony with the natural order of things and not something completely separate….Danny’s personal space is indoors, the extra room converted entirely into his personal office or Batcave. Filled with monitors and screens and hard drives, a Hacker’s Paradise that keeps Danny plugged into the grid, manmade tools and his own cultivated expertise giving him the world at his fingertips. Any needed information or a satellite view of something happening with allies on the other side of the world is just a few clicks of a mouse away.

He’s also got every video game console known to man, because Danny’s Me Time is kicking ass on whatever game the latest redditor or twitterbaiting bigot to catch his ire is high-ranking on. 

And if he also happens to use his gameplay as an opportunity to backdoor into said Wankstain’s systems and do whatever needs doing to make his life and those of all his enabling social circle’s a living hell and a lesson in empathy that comes too late cuz nobody has any for them because they suck and are Satan….

Well. Sucks to be them, and also, what kind of moron makes enemies while online gaming without first erecting even a nominal defense against Superior Intellects who might feel like retaliating against his jokes, that aren’t really jokes so much as the synaptic misfiring of racist braincells and proof that sometimes, evolution shits out a turd?

“That sounds like victim blaming,” Scott notes in an absent kind of tone when watching over his husband’s shoulder one day. Not really judgmental so much as just something to say.

“You say victim blaming, I say pest control,” Danny hums unapologetically. “Sides, can’t be victim blamed if you’re not a victim, and you can’t be a victim if you’re really just a human-shaped mistake who has no redeeming qualities, an online presence that’s the virtual equivalent of bad BO with no medical cause for an excuse, and a social media history that makes a strong case for your best possible contribution to society being a qualifier for a Darwin Award. Would you blame a cockroach for getting itself stepped on by stepping out into the light? I mean, you could, I guess. Just doesn’t seem terribly productive if you ask me.”

“Why do you hate cockroaches? They’re living creatures who never did anything to you, why would hurt them by comparing one to this guy?” Scott asks, because that’s really the more important part of the conversation.

“Dunno,” Danny shrugs. “I’m sure I could find some way to blame it on childhood trauma if you really need an answer.”

“No, just wondering if you’re gonna be done in time for dinner. I’m making tortellini.”

“I’ll be done in ten minutes, I swear. And ready to eat like a metaphor that’s more appropriate to you. Righteous vengeance really works up an appetite.”

“Uh-huh. Just out of curiosity, who exactly are you righteously avenging at the moment?”

“Humanity? Good taste? God, who couldn’t possibly have foreseen this free will thing would go so very wrong? That poor defunct condom that tried its best but in the end, just wasn’t up to the task of keeping this shithead from being unleashed unto the Earth? I dunno. Do I have to pick just one?”

Not really. As stated, Scott’s not actually judging anymore than Danny’s trying to hide this from him. They’re both in total agreement about the kind of people Danny cyber-vigilantes. They just have different approaches about how they should be handled. Scott, while not violent by choice for the most part, does tend to favor the direct approach. He just feels its right that a person know why exactly he thinks they’re a terrible person who deserves what they get. So he tends more towards the approach of: punch a bigot in the face, wait for a second for a whiff of remorse or sign someone might be suddenly reevaluating life choices, because he’s Scott and hope springs eternal, but when no such revelation comes, just shrugging and walking away. Oh well. He tried. Sorta. Well, kinda.

Danny, in contrast, prefers to go for the jugular and leave no hint of who or what might have been behind the all-encompassing full frontal assault that hits every online trace of his target’s miserable and miserly existence. It keeps them paranoid and this keeps him sated. Plus, his stance is when they don’t know what exactly earned them an enemy of his caliber, it forces them to reflect or at least call to mind every thing they can think of doing wrong to someone that might result in that someone hating them this much.

The ironic thing of course is Danny doesn’t even really hate them, because that implies a level of giving a shit he can’t ever quite seem to muster. He mostly just thinks they suck and should suffer for that. And he gets bored a lot. 

Look, his husband and fellow werewolves are off saving the world every other week and being all kinds of kick-ass and action adventure movie-star types in the process. A guy sitting behind at home all the time has to get his jollies somehow. Also, he’s compiled a very engaging soundtrack to accompany his personal heroic undertakings, and it does wonderful things for his self image. Danny’s all about that self-care.

Plus, the first time he and Scott had something of a disagreement on their approaches, Danny unapologetically stated that loving him meant loving his vindictive side, because he personally was quite fond of it and thought it was really something of a Look. Also, making that Look into a Thing might be something of a dealbreaker for him, because he really didn’t want to undersell his capacity to be petty, and how little shame he felt about having said capacity. His essential life philosophy boils down to sometimes people just suck and somebody needs to say so. Maybe by draining their bank account and redirecting the funds to an ironically relevant charity.

“Fine,” Scott had conceded with a sigh. “Just be careful about making enemies like this, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

(That was really his only real concern all along. He’s a Nurturing Nelly. Scott can’t help but be a worry wart when his husband roams the internet highways under a masked IP address, taking on bandits and bigots all willy nilly, with not a bit of concern for himself. Its their biggest common ground, and Danny doesn’t have claws or a killer bite to protect himself with. A bite fetish, maybe, but that’s not quite the same thing, and also neither here nor there, and also also, he would like to plead the fifth while reminding you he can access and pull up your full porn-browsing history if you’d like to press that line of conversation further. Pervert).

Anyway, alls well that ends well, and thus Danny couldn’t help but be charmed at the reminder that his hubby is a man with clear priorities and his biggest is always gonna be the safety of his loved ones. Aww, sweetums.

“Aww, sweetums,” he said, just to see Scott squirm, because the more unexpected the endearment, the more Scott doesn’t know how to take it. And a squirmy Scott is an adorable Scott, Danny has always felt, and he is a man who appreciates his eye candy, as well as a go-getter who knows what he likes and goes and gets it, even if that means playing dirty. Especially if that means playing dirty. Danny likes dirty. 

After all, dirty men need to shower, and showering together conserves water, and having sex while showering together is just a solid application of having eyes, a hot husband, and a healthy libido. It just makes good sense. He’s goal-oriented and a linear thinker, what do you want, leave him alone. He’s valid and you’re just jealous.

Still, exotic endearment applied, he’d then followed up with:

“How dare you accuse me of being so bad at the thing that I am most skilled at that you imply I’m even capable of ever leaving digital tracks like a total N00b. What do I look like to you? A 4chan poster who just figured out how to spoof their GPS for the first time?” 

Danny rolled his eyes, exaggerating his wounded pride. It was the principle of the matter, and he was very principled. Sometimes. Kinda. If principles mean whimsy and whimsy means shh, don’t interrupt me, I’m doing bad things to bad people and this is very important work that must be savored or you really don’t get the full oomph of the revenge-gasm. Yes, he said revenge-gasm and he meant it. No he will not elaborate. Imagination is free.

“Ten points from Gryffindor for your low opinion of me, your valued and valuable life partner. Also, no sex for you, until…..okay maybe that’s too far. You seem like you’ve learned your lesson.”

“You’re too merciful,” Scott had said drily. 

“Nobody’s perfect,” Danny had said lackadaisically. “Also, not to disrespect your tortellini-making expertise, but any chance we can put a pin in dinner until after we go have wild, passionate sex? This pending revenge-gasm is making me horny and I really hate to waste a good head of moral crusading.”

“That was a terrible pun.”

“I have never made a pun in my life, how dare you, my sense of humor is sophisticated. I’m not a peasant, Scott. And where did we land on the sex.”

“Didn’t we just do it this morning?”

“I have needs, Scott.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“And water is wet. I don’t see the relevance. Also, if you don’t want me jumping you 24/7, you have no business being so hot. Its your own damn fault, deal with it.”

“There you go with the victim-blaming again.”

“I’ll do five Hail Marys after I finish doing sinful things to you and racking up another five. Its more efficient to tackle them all at once.”

“Not sure that’s how that works, babe.”

“Eh, guess I’ll just go to hell then. Still worth it. Still your fault. Oh look, I’m naked all of a sudden, how did that happen?”

Scott sighs. “What am I going to do with you?”

“R is for Ravish me, if you’re really looking for suggestions. I can probably do the whole alphabet if you need. Or just do me. Whichever.”

Scott cut off further melodramatic peacocking with a kiss.

Things proceeded to a total media black out from there. Further voyeuristic attempts at seeing the Alpha and his mate get down, get down, would necessitate the invocation of the cautionary tale of the last pack member to not properly respect the sanctity of the inner sanctum of the Vindictive Master of Digital Identities and Other Important Details. His name is Chester, middle initial A., surname with a phonetic similarity to certain orifices. That wasn’t always his name, but it was once Danny got done with him, and that was only after Scott gave him the Pointed Stare of One Who Will Look More Benevolently On Those Who Demonstrate Both Mercy and Restraint.

Tis very much a tale of woe, as Chester is 6′5″, 260 lbs of visually intimidating werewolf muscle, and facial features that when accompanied by choice words and phrases, rather does call to mind certain similarities to certain orifices.

Like I said. Danny is very good at what he does. And everybody loves Danny.

….Aside from all other motivating reasons, its just a good idea in general. 

Y’know.

Practically speaking.

[miraclesmilady]

Bella-Donna: The First Meeting

So you want to know about my life? To be perfectly honest I would not have an interesting lifestyle if Donna never came to be. I would of just been an ordinary girl getting through life just like everyone else. Of course that is never a bad thing, sometimes I love having those days when I am not out crime fighting. I wonder how my life would have really been without Donna. You see I grew up without having friends. I only started to make friends in High School. Those friends being Peter Parker, Harry Osborn, and Gwen Stacy. But even with them, I still felt lonely. Do not get me wrong I love hanging out with them, but if they went to events or parties hosted by the school, I did not feel like I fit in. I would be standing in the corner looking down at my drink or sitting on the bleachers as everyone else is having fun and think to myself, ``Why am I here?’ I would then leave the place to go home while everyone else stays behind. One night I did that is when I met Donna, so maybe it was not all bad.

Friday night, an after-school party is happening at Midtown High School. The front doors of the school open as Bella walks out of the building. She is looking down at the cold hard concrete floor and let out a defeated sigh. She lifts her head up to look at the night sky before she softly speaks to herself, “Why do I keep letting my parents convince me to attend these parties? They know I do not stay long.” As she finished speaking, she look ahead and begin to walk home.

Bella arrives to her house with no problems at all and even seems to make it in time for dinner. She walks through the front door and announce her presence, “Mother. Father. I am home.” She takes off her shoes and leaves them by the door before walking into the dining room. Her mother is the first to greet Bella, “Welcome back, Bella.” Her mother walks around the table to reach over to Bella and place a kiss on top of her head before looking at her daughter, “So how was the party?” Bella looks over to the side as she speaks, “It was alright. Everyone there was having a good time. I just felt tired from school and thought I should get home before I pass out.” Her mother rubs her hand on Bella’s head, “But you have all night and the weekend to enjoy yourself, Bella. You really need to let yourself go while you still have your youth. You might regret it when you look back on yourself.” Bella looks down at the ground, “I know.” She then look up at her mother and put on a smile, “Maybe next time.” Her mother smiles as she knows Bella says the same thing every time they have this discussion.

With a pot of delicious chicken and dumpling soup, Bella’s father walks out of the kitchen. He places the steamy food on the table where Bella’s mother set up. Bella always enjoys her father’s cooking and would rather be here eating it then being over at the school’s party. Her father wipes his hand with a rag before walking over to Bella and embrace her in a hug. Bella hugs him back as he does the same thing as her mother did and rubs the back of her head, “Your mother is right. You need to get out more than spending all your time here. Do not think that we do not enjoy your company.” Bella simply nods, “Yes, father.” Her father pulls away from Bella, “Now let's us enjoy dinner before it gets cold.” The whole family walks over to their seats and sits down before diving into the food.

Moments later, dinner is finished and while the parents clean up the table and utensils, Bella goes outside to throw the trash away. She hums to herself as walks around the corner where the trash cans would be only to drop the trash bag. The sight in front of her is of the trash cans being knocked down onto the ground with trash spilling out of them. She let out a sigh, “The raccoons must have gotten into the trash cans.” She walks over to the first trash can and lifts it up while putting the trash bags that was knocked out back into it. As she is almost finished with the first trash can, she hears something. It sounds like it is coming from the other trash can. Bella becomes hesitant in her movements as she thinks the raccoon is still here. She looks around her surroundings to see if she could find anything to defend herself. The only thing that she could find was the trash bag that she was supposed to throw away, “Maybe I could use it as a distraction.” She picks up the trash bag and throws it near the spot that was making the sound to see anything would come out. With no such luck, the trash bag lays on the ground untouched. Bella, thinking that the raccoon left, walk over the knocked down trash can and cautiously lifts the barrel back onto its feet.

As the barrel was placed back onto its feet, Bella spots something, though that something was not a raccoon at all. Instead all it was a pile of what looks to be goo. “That is strange. I do not think we threw away something that is slimy looking. It also could not be the reason to have made that noise”, Bella looks at the pile confused until, for a split second, the pile move on its own. She took a step back as she is surprises at the movement, “What the!?” After moving a couple of itches, the goo stops moving once again as if it is exhausted. Bella watches its every little movement until it stops moving. She takes a deep breath before kneeling down on the cold ground and her hand slowly moves towards the goo.

Before she could even touch it with one finger, the goo launches itself onto Bella’s hand. Bella freaks out from the sudden action and swings her hand up and down to try to get the thing off her hand. The thing held on like glue as Bella continues her best to get it off. As she attempts to remove the thing, she becomes unbalanced and falls backwards onto the first trash can that she recently pick back up. The house must of been quiet as next thing Bella knew is her mother call out to her and walking over, “Bella! Are you alright over there!?” Bella moves her head to face her mother and then quickly back to her hand, only for the goo to have suddenly disappear and what replaced it is some bracelets. “Um… Yeah I am okay, Mother. I was about to pick up the last trash can when I thought I saw something and move back only to trip onto the other trash can. Sorry for the inconvenience, `` Bella pick herself back up and looks over at her mother once more. Bella’s mother sigh in relief, “It is alright. I just thought something worse happen. I am glad to see that I was wrong. Let me help you so we can both go back inside.” Without any trouble and with the assistance of her mother, two is able to get the trash and the trash cans back into place.

The front door open with Bella and her mother walking inside. Both removes their shoes before proceeding any further into the house. Bella thanks her mother for help before she walked to her room for the night. Once she closes her door, she looks down at her wrist, at the bracelets that appear, “Where did these things come from and where did that slime creature go?” As if to answer Bella’s questions, the bracelets begins to manifest into what looks to be a head and staring right up at Bella. Once again Bella becomes shock from the sudden action and leans back onto the closed door. She has her mouth open as if she wants to speak but could not get the words out her mouth. Instead of waiting for a word, the creature begins traveling up her body and cover all the areas it touches. Just like before, Bella tries her best to swing and move around to get the thing off only to fulling be taken by the creature.

She did not even realize that her eyes were close until she sees her room once more. Only now she seems taller. She looked down at herself to notices the clawed feet that seems like she is on her tiptoes, yet she has perfect balance.She then spots her hands. The nails sharp and long that it would not be a problem to cut through something. She turns around to look at her mirror that hangs on the door. She could not believe what she looks like as she places a hand on her cheek, staring at her reflection with big green eyes. Her hair now purple and wavy. She runs her other hand through her hair. It seems like the hair has a mind of its own as it moves. The windows were closed and her fan is off so there was no wind. Her hair should not be moving like it was now. Bella backs away from the mirror, still in disbelief at what she has become. If things could not get weird, step on something while she was backing away. She looks down to see a tail, and that tail was connected to her.

Bella shakes her head, thinking this was all a dream, “What happened to me!?” She hears a notice and looks around the room. No one else is around, so what is making that noise. As she listens to it harder, the noise sounds like someone is talking, “I have fuse with your body in order to survive.” The mask around her face pulls away and float in front of her like a floating head. This thing is the one talking. Bella stares at it, still not believing what is going on. After what felt like hours, Bella finally spoke, “What do you want?” The creature just stares, not even blinking, “Right now I need to recharge. I was without a host for so long that I almost died.” Bella stops the creature, “Wait! Wait! Wait! A host!? I did not agree for my body to be hosting anything!” The creature is unmoved from the shouting, “Too late for that. Once I get my energy back, I will take a look at what this world has to offer.”

Bella could not believe this. What did she do to deserve another living being basically feeding off on her. Was this what she gets for not being more social and hanging out with others more often? It was that moment Bella looks down at the ground, becoming upset. Not because of this creature, but the fact if something would happen to her, would anyone really noticed? She bets no one even noticed her leaving the party early. It seems she is destined to be alone and to be used by an alien creature, “Fine.. Do what you have to do. If I could have one request, please leave my parents out of this. They do not need to know that I am being used by you.” The creature feels her emotions, sadness and loneliness. It digs deeper into Bella’s memories as it wants to know why the sudden change of mood. All it found is of Bella alone. As a small girl, she would be on the swings with no one else in sight. In her early teens, she is sitting on the ground and leaning against a building while everyone else is far away eating lunch together. Even in group project, people talk to each other like she was not even there. And yet with all that, she still help others in the back. If someone drops something, she would return it to the office to be picked up. If someone was feeling down, she would write a note with positive words and leave it in their locker. She is always watching in the back, even if no one else notices it.

And even now, she is letting herself to be a host without a fight. “I should not be selfish… You are a living creature too. I can not imagine what it felt like to be clinging to life and almost losing it all, `` she looks up at the creature. The creature is silent. It is so quiet that a pin can be heard hitting the ground floor. Bella sighs thinking that the creature did not want to talk anymore and look back at the floor. “Yeah. It was… Scary,” Bella looks back up only to notice that now the creature is looking away from her. “You may not think it this way, but you did save me. Another few minutes and I would not be here. I… Thank you for that.” Bella takes everything in and lowers her head, seeming to cry. The creature turns Bella what could be interpreted as worry, “I am sorry if I said something wrong. I am still not used to your language.” Bella raise her head to look at the creature with a smile and tears running down her cheeks, “Everything is fine.. I just did not think the first person to thank me would be from an alien.”  

The creature stared at the woman in silence before unwrapping herself from Bella. All that remains is the bracelets around her wrists. Bella raise her hands to get a good look at the bracelets, “So are we… partners?” She hears the same voice in her mind, “Call it what you want. I am stuck with you until I am able to repay you.” Bella could not help but smile big because even if they are not friends, at least it is nice to have someone to talk to.

[thorongil82]

Finding Treasure

Can also be read on AO3 here

Fandom/s: Spider-Man: Homecoming, Marvel Cinematic Universe

Words: 4,575

Tag-list: @forasecondtherewedwon @you-guys--are-losers @spideychelleforever @tvfanatic97-2 @peterxchelle Just thought you guys might like this.

Summary: Michelle is bitterly disappointed and frustrated after Ned and Peter waste their time searching for treasure. Maybe she was just looking in the wrong place …

There were times when Michelle Jones really questioned her decision on going on a road trip. She never did like the idea of going on one at any stage of her life. Period. She had always believed that the only reason people bothered even considering the notion was because they held some weird belief that in the short time they would disappear from home they would have some adventure or spectacular event that would change their life for the better. It was different from tourists; they at least usually had a good reason for travelling, and it would probably be the only time they’d get to experience that journey. Road trips were traditionally poorly conceived ideas that would almost certainly end up with cars breaking down, items being lost or stolen, someone getting sick at the most inconvenient of moments, and general jerks trying to take advantage of strangers to the area. In today’s world, if people wanted adventure they only needed to wait for someone with a grudge on an Avenger to become crazy enough to act on it. Or wait for another alien invasion. Both were as likely to happen as the other, at this stage.

Apparently having a best friend that one obsessively crushes on with a superhero alter-ego can dampen the fear of invasion or super-villains quite severely (so long as one is not directly involved).

So, Michelle really had very little interest in going on a road trip. Especially one that was both initiated and planned by her two closest friends. She had so very many plans for the holidays; so many new books to read, protests to help organise and attend, ousting certain male public figures with power and money for the misogynists and/or racists that they are, articles to write on her blog that no one knew was hers, sketching her crush strangers in crisis, and a lot of lying around her apartment daydreaming about one Peter Parker without a care or worry in the world. She had spent so long listening to them planning out their trip during their get togethers that when they asked her if she wanted to accompany them she had every intention of saying no. Even if it meant that she had to lie and come up with some lame excuse, it’s not like they could complain about that considering how poorly they tried to hide Peter being Spider-Man. When she had opened her mouth to answer, the “no” that sat on the tip of her tongue would’ve been so emphatic that such a road trip turn down would never have been seen or heard again. And yet, something froze her vehement refusal. That something being the wide, hopeful, pleading irresistible puppy eyes wielded against her by Peter - eyes that, in her not-so humble opinion, should be declared an international security risk in their own right. Such was the power of his imploring gaze - helped along by the sudden realisation that she could spend a lot of time with him in a confined space - that the “no” stuck in her mouth was swallowed back down and swiftly replaced with a deadpan, “Eh, why not?”

And now here she was, stuck in a small town - the name of which she really couldn’t care to even check as they drove in - that they were meant to stop at just to grab a bite and drink, because the two losers became enamoured by the ‘town legend’ of a fearsome outlaw who stashed away his treasures somewhere nearby. Clearly ignoring her protests that the whole thing was just a tourist trap designed to keep them in town longer and spend more money that they didn’t need to - the fact that the waitress, a dainty redhead teenager with freckles, was flirting with future-Michelle’s Peter, had nothing to do with her protests, though he was thankfully oblivious to her attempts - the pair of dorks set off to try and find the hidden treasures, with Michelle reluctantly tagging along. The trio, having solved a series of riddles and clues, are being led through a network of caverns by Ned, who was navigating from the map they conveniently found at the location of the supposed last clue - the grave of the outlaw’s son, how very cliché - with Peter bringing up the rear and leaving a trail of webs behind them so they would not lose their way, causing Michelle to be stuck in the middle of their nerd sandwich.

“It should be just past this corner,” Ned informs them, glancing up and down between the tunnel and the map.

Ned rounds the corner first, leading the trio into a small cave with a small room at the end walled off with metal bars. Inside the cage, the door already thrown wide open, is tossed empty sacks, a tattered wooden table, empty open chests, and a few small gold pieces scattered along the ground.

”O-Oh … well, this isn’t good,” Ned says.

"Really?! This is it?! This is all there is?!” Michelle shouts, her irritation boiling over.

“Guess someone must have beaten us to it,” Peter offers as he walks in behind them, his voice trailing off slightly as he spots the daggers that Michelle is glaring at him.

“Or there wasn’t any treasure to begin with,” she growls.

"It could be worse …”

"I cannot believe you idiots made us waste all that time for this!” she snaps, turning round and gesturing to the near-empty cell, during which Ned shoots Peter a look that almost pleads, ‘you can handle this’.

"Y-You know, MJ,” Peter starts, getting her attention while Ned sneaks past to access the barred door, “the real treasure could be the way our friendship has grown throughout this journey.”

Michelle stares blankly at him before bluntly replying, “No. You both promised me gold. I want my fucking gold.”

“Look on the bright side,” Ned proposes as he searches the cell, having already opened the apparently unlocked cell door, “at least there is still some stuff here.”

"It’s worthless,” she scoffs as Peter walks around her to begin his search.

"Come on, MJ. If you don’t look, you’ll definitely be getting nothing,” Peter points out as he starts collecting the leftover gold pieces laying on the ground, causing her to huff and grumble as she plods into the cage with them.

”Like you wouldn’t share it with me anyway, loser,” she mutters to herself.

Peering into one of the chests, Michelle finds herself staring at a golden necklace, the chains thin and spindly, designed almost like a spider’s thread, with an obsidian pendant with a ruby indent dangling from it. Michelle reaches out and touches it. As soon as she lays a finger upon it, a vision flashes before her eyes. Michelle sees herself lying on top of Peter in bed, hungrily kissing his swollen lips before trailing down his neck, as his hands run over her body, dancing across her skin. She quickly comes to and can feel her face burning, before quickly grabbing the necklace and stuffing it inside her clothing, out of the way.

"MJ? Did you find something?” Peter inquires

"N-No!” she squeaks before clearing her throat. “Just thought I saw a rat. I-It was nothing.”

“Well, we’re going to head back,” Ned speaks up, the two boys having already collected up anything in the cage that could possibly be worth something - at least, that would be believable for teenagers to carry out. It would be hard for people to accept Peter carrying a large thick chest if they saw him. “You coming?”

"Y-Yeah.”

Michelle waits a couple of seconds to try and bring herself under control before turning and following after the two boys, attempting to coax her face back into its usually bored and stoic expression while desperately hoping neither one would notice the slight pink tinge to her cheeks and the tips of her ears. The pure, innocent, happy smile that her crush shoots back at her does nothing to settle her nerves, only causing the warmth to flare even fiercer.

Later that night, after brushing off Peter and Ned’s apologies for wasting her day on a fruitless search, when they finally return to their individual rooms in the hotel they had to book into for the evening, Michelle pulls out the necklace and stares at it before her. No matter how hard she tries, she cannot think of any reason why she would suddenly see something at her first touch of the item, nor why it would happen to be a vision of one of her fantasies involving Peter - as if any of her others don’t. Chalking it up to the heat and a case of dehydration, Michelle instead stares at the design.

"Isn’t it ironic that a group with Spider-Man would find a spider necklace?” Michelle asks out loud to herself. “Maybe I should give it to Peter …”

Michelle just stares at it for a while before standing up with a huff and walking over to the nearby mirror. She looks at her own reflection as she places the chain around her neck, clicking it together behind her face. The spider sits pretty much perfectly in the cut of her shirt, while the golden webs glisten against her skin. A hand flies to the spider pendant and carefully caresses it.

"It would be just my luck if this would be the only thing that gets him to notice me …” she complains to her reflection. “It would be just like him too, noticing another spider.”

Her hands falls limply to her side as she sighs.

"This was a stupid idea …”

A knock sounds out against her hotel room.

"MJ? Are you in there?” Peter’s voice questions from the other side of the door. 

Michelle swallows down her nerves and slowly walks over to the door, opening it to see Peter’s bright, happy, adorable, cute face beaming up at her.

"What is it, Peter?”

Peter holds up some of the gold pieces he had picked up earlier.

"W-Well, I know you didn’t find anything and - despite you saying that it was worthless - I thought you should at least get some of our treasure. It was kinda our fault you were there.”

Michelle’s gaze drops to the floor as she twists the ball of her foot on the ground, trying to keep down the big grin that this lovable loser makes her want to show.

"Pete, you don’t have to give me anything,” she mumbles.

”I know,” he grins. “But I want to.”

Michelle looks back up at his beaming face and gives him a tight lipped smile in return. She fidgets with her hands, unsure if she should take it, if so, and how - hold out her hand and let him place them in hers, or take them from his hand and risk brushing her fingers against his -  when she notices his eyes flicker down from her face and fixate somewhere on her chest.

"What’s that?”

Michelle automatically reaches up quickly to grab the pendant, covering it with her hand.

"Oh, it’s … I just found it in one of the chests …” she explains.

"Really?”

'I knew it …’ Michelle laments internally, ‘That’s all he noticed …’

Michelle turns her head away and almost feels a shiver running along her skin around the golden web chain just as his eyes carefully flit across the jewellery, almost as if his eyes were softly caressing her skin like she wished his hands would. Eventually she drops her hand away reluctantly, letting Peter look at the pendant.

"It kinda looks like a black widow. That’s so cool!” Peter excitedly exclaims as he finishes his analysis.

Michelle lets out a half-hearted, almost pained laugh as she pulls her hands behind her back, trying to hide her nervous fidgets from the subject of her huge crush.

"Why’s that, Spidey? You get another arachnid to talk to? I’m pretty sure it’s not real.”

"No, I just think it suits you.”

Michelle feels her brow furrow as she turns her gaze back on Peter, who’s still staring at the pendant.

"It really highlights your skin and you look really beautiful with it.”

Peter’s eyes widen as if he’s suddenly realised what he just confessed, whilst the large burst of shock thunders through Michelle’s body at his words. Peter’s panic-stricken gaze lifts up to look into her eyes.

'He thinks I’m beautiful?’

"W-What?” is all the stunned Michelle can manage to voice in a whisper.

"N-Not- That’s … th- I- I mean, not th-that you need it to look beautiful,” Peter stutters, rambling through the belief that he said something wrong. “Y-You don’t. Y-You always look beautiful.”

Peter’s face turns a fierce bright red as he stammers, his free hand snaking around to rub the back of his neck.

’He thinks I’m beautiful?!’ Michelle internally in disbelief as Peter continues his stuttered clarification.

"I-I just mean th-that it looks r-really good on you - who a-already looks beautiful - a-and …”

Michelle just stares at her crush as he nervously stammers out his explanation, eyes flickering between the floor and her eyes, while occasionally lingering on her lips. Her own face lights up in a blaze as the warming blush spreads over her now rosy cheeks, lighting up the tips of her ears hidden underneath the bush of curls her hair has become, and crawling down along her neck and along her chest, pooling with the tingles and heat burning underneath the widow pendant. That mixing concoction stirring within her heart churns and turns into a pulsing urge. Not just her usual one every time she lays eyes on him, let alone thinks about him, to press her lips against his. To kiss that adorable hero and to finally let him know just how she sees him. Let him know just how much he means to her. This urge to kiss him is now joined by a fierce hunger. A passion. A burning lust bursting forth and engulfing her entire mind and body. And, just like earlier, the vision flashes before her eyes of a passionate fantasy; of her lying atop Peter at her mercy, eagerly tagging his soft lips and skin with her mouth as she devours her heart’s desire. Shaking herself out once more from her reverie, Michelle finds Peter still in the midst of his rambling apologetic justifications, as the swell of her own love and happiness - that her feelings for the dork stammering in front of her may not be so platonic after all, swirl together with the newfound lust and desire to act upon her deeper fantasies, bubbling and boiling from within the cauldron in her chest, and spilling out throughout her body.

”-so maybe i-it just helps e-enhance your natural beauty-” Peter continues, his hand dropping back down from his neck and gingerly rubbing over the back of his other hand.

'He thinks I’m beautiful!’ her thoughts scream in ecstasy.

"Th-That’s … you know … That’s a-all that I meant. You kno-?”

Michelle lunges forwards, acting on her heightened craving, and presses her lips up against Peter’s, silencing the teenage boy’s lengthy babbling with nothing more than a surprised squeak escaping his lips. She wraps her arms around his neck to pull his head to hers as she smashes their lips together, passionately kissing him and breaking only for a small gasp of air before planting another. And another. And another, before finally he presses back and joins in the more-than-friendly frolicking of their joined lips. Sloppily and hungrily their mouths collide in a drunken dance, both filled with the vigour of teenage hormones and lust. Michelle drags Peter back into her room, her long legs kicking the door shut behind them, lips barely straying from each other’s save to resurface for air before diving again into the pool of their desires. That is, until Michelle grabs Peter by the waist and throws him down onto her bed, the gold pieces in his hand flying out and clattering across the room.. He bounces with the sudden surprising force, but before he can recover, Michelle climbs on top of the bed and crawls over him, straddling his waist with her long light bronze legs while leaning forwards and pining his arms down beside his head.

"M-Michelle …?” Peter manages to make out with a gulp.

Bowing her head down, Michelle whispers in his ear, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

She huffs a warm puff of air just under Peter’s ear before brushing her mouth down his neck, her teeth grazing along his skin and drawing a groan from his mouth.

”Michelle …”

At the sound of Peter desperately groaning her name, Michelle’s grip tightens around his wrists, her nails almost digging into his skin. Her head nestles in his shoulder as her mouth hangs open, before dragging it up and resting her forehead against his. Both stare deep into each others eyes, at their passionate fires within. Whereas Peter’s flickers with a loving and caring warmth, a gentleness craving to indulge and savour MJ’s beauty while also straining to control his enhanced strength so as not to harm her, Michelle’s blaze roars with a bestial passion and hunger, pure animalistic desire. With both faces pink, rosy, and radiating a heat that goes unnoticed, Michelle presses forward once more and hungrily locks their quickly swelling lips together, Peter barely hesitating before eagerly pushing up back into her. A devilish smile forces its way across her occupied lips as a thought invades her mind and she slowly pulls back, held back only by the small rise of Peter’s bottom lip that she’s gently bitten down on. His brow furrows slightly at the sight of her wide grin, only for her to release the bite and the hold on his wrists.

Leaning back, her hands come together to fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, nearly tearing them from the stitching as she pulls apart the front of his shirt. Sticking out from the opening are all his lean-yet-chiselled abs and pecs in all their glory; strong, powerful, and at her mercy. Despite seeing them before from glimpses under a slightly raised gym-shirt, or from the way his skin-tight Spider-Man suit clings to his body, or even bare but blemished by bruises and stab wounds that she’d secretly treat for him in her bedroom after a night’s patrol, her sudden bravado caused by her lust-driven haze almost short-circuits at the sight of his impressive physique. Noting her dumbstruck expression, beautiful lips parted and speechless, Peter showcases a smirk that’s unusually cocky for him and starts to lean himself upright ever so slightly, leaning back on his elbows.

"See something you like, MJ?” he asks smugly as he lifts up his forearms and pulls at the open flaps of his shirt, slowly dragging them over his rippling muscles and past his shoulders. 

With each teasing movement, he leans further up and causes Michelle to slightly shuffle back, the ever growing cheeky smirk quickly morphs into a groan as Michelle eventually presses back into the bulge that had bloomed in his shorts. She peers down over her shoulder before glancing back at Peter, the energy shifting once again as her shock gives way to a knowing, devious smirk, while his bold cheekiness disappears and returns to a wide-eyed nervousness.

"Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Michelle purrs, swivelling her hips, grinding on his stiffness to emphasise her point and drawing out another groan from him.

"Em …”

A tentative smile blossoms on her face as she presses her hands on his firm shoulders, gently pushing him back down on the bed while she checks out his torso. Her eyes trace each line and protrusion with extreme scrutiny, taking her time to burn the enticing image directly into her brain.

"You look so delectable, Peter,” Michelle notes, her voice dropping to a sultry tone she’d never used before.

She looks up to find him glancing at the spot between them. Following his gaze, she looks down at the necklace she acquired, the spider pendant hanging down from the golden web with the forelegs ever so gently brushing and scraping against his pecs. Michelle looks back up at him, the hunger and desire flourishing once again.

"Has Spidey been caught in my web?” she innocently asks, cocking her head slightly.

Peter gulps and nods nervously. Michelle pulls one hand away from his shoulders and lightly traces a nail seductively down his chest, making Peter unable to avoid letting the hiss escape his swollen lips.

"You said it looked like a black widow, right?”

Peter nods again, though he then begins to squirm and shiver as Michelle presses her mouth to his abdomen and licks up his torso, trailing her tongue over his muscles till she reaches the base of his neck. With a sexy guttural giggle, Michelle brings her head above his and plants a soft kiss along his jawline, followed by a brushing of her lips against his for just the briefest of moments, before leaving another kiss on his cheek, until finally she draws level with Peter’s eyes, letting them stare at each other once again. Weirdly, with the exception of the deep flushes burning across their skins and their current positions, if someone looked at them both they could almost be excused as being normal, what with Peter’s wide puppy eyes and Michelle’s well-trained stoic expression.

“You know what female widows do to their partners, right?” she purrs, her lips skirting the air above his.

"U-Uh … y-yeah?” he answers with a tiny nod, the rise in his voice making it sound more unsure than he was.

Peter reaches up with his left hand and gently brushes a loose strand of curly hair back behind her ear. As his fingers softly brush against her skin, Michelle’s eyes close as she exhales and leans into his faint touch before dropping down and pressing a kiss on his left cheek.

"And with a meal as sweet and deliciously cute as you …”

Michelle’s lips dart again along his cheek, followed by another, and then a long deep kiss on his lips, both pressing in and moaning at the contact before reluctantly breaking apart as she whispers;

”I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself.”

Michelle lies on her bed with a soft smile on her face, her head buried into the crook of Peter’s neck while one of his arms is wrapped around her waist. At the start of the day she never would have thought that her dreams could have come true; both finding out how Peter’s lips tasted and felt when pressed against her own and that the feelings she held deep inside the walls within her heart weren’t so one-sided. Though, admittedly, she would have thought that finding out either of those would have been in a moment that was both awkward and sweet -  that they’d stammer and nervously declare their feelings for one another and share a soft and delicate first kiss. Not with a steamy, passionate make-out session that ended where they are now; with her cradled against a topless Peter, his discarded shirt now draped over her own shoulders. Peering up out of the bushy mess that is her hair, she spies Peter tentatively touching his lips with his fingers.

"What are you doing?”

"Feels kinda weird,” he answers with another soft touch to his lips, “Like, it’s a good weird. But still weird.”

"That’s what happens when you make out with someone for so long,” Michelle quips, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

"H-Have you done this before?” Peter asks, shuffling slightly so he can look at Michelle who shakes her head.

"It’s just something I’ve heard.”

"Oh. How do yours feel?”

"Really?” she questions with a slight glare.

"Just curious …” he mumbles with a pout.

Michelle rolls her eyes and presses a hand to her lips, letting her touch linger for a second, before shuffling over to bring her head up to his.

”It’s a good weird feeling,” she whispers.

They smile as they press their lips together for the umpteenth time that day, though far softer and more intimate than the previous session. While before was a burning wildfire tearing through their bodies, this feels gentle and tender, like snowflakes drifting down and landing on an outstretched tongue. Michelle pulls away with a satisfied sigh and nestles back in against Peter’s shoulder, bringing his slightly dishevelled shirt back over her own. For a moment there is a peaceful silence through the room, with only the occasional rev of a car passing outside the hotel taking away from their comfort, and soon Michelle begins to quietly hum as she closes her eyes.

"Does that mean that you don’t need a share of my treasure?” Peter questions, referring to the necklace.

"You mean our treasure. You came to share it,” she points out.

"Only because you said you didn’t find anything.”

Michelle opens up an eye and peers up at him. "You really wouldn’t have shared anything if I had shown you the necklace?”

"No,” Peter curtly answers, raising his head slightly to look down at her.

Michelle’s open eye narrows at his obvious lie. Peter tries to battle her stare but in the end lays his head back down onto the pillow. Michelle closes her eye and curls into him with a satisfied hum.

"Aww, how sweet. Peter, you shouldn’t have,” Michelle remarks far too sweetly for it to be anything other than sarcastic.

"Shut up.”

"Was that you?”

"Sorry.” Peter squeaks, causing Michelle to breath out a soft laugh.

”I’m messing with you, loser.”

The pair lie quietly once again, until Peter opens his mouth.

"You weren’t really going to devour me, right?” he inquires.

"Peter-”

"Because that’s just wrong,” he continues. “Also, you’re a vegetarian.”

Michelle, unable to bite back her laughter, lets it all tumble out and tries to quieten it by muffling it into his shoulder. Peter stares at her with a furrowed brow and waits until she can finally look back at him, her outright laughter diminished to a fit of giggles muffled behind a barely contained tight-lipped smile.

"What?”

"You’re such a massive dork,” Michelle manages to say through her giggles. “You know that, right?”

"Nat said that chicks like dorks,” Peter recalls as he runs a hand through his curls.

"Mhmm …” she hums in response.

"Do you?” he asks innocently after a moment.

"Do you think I’d still be here if I didn’t?”

"Probably not,” Peter sighs in relief.

Once more a comfortable silence softly blankets the room, only to be broken once more by Peter.

”Does this mean I’m your dork-?”

“Yes,” Michelle answers a little too quickly, trying and failing to stop her smile from opening up to include her beaming white teeth, before it fades a little as a flash of worry crosses her face. “I-If you want to?”

"Do you think I’d still be here if I didn’t?” Peter echoes.

They both grin at each other and seal their beginning with another soft kiss, Michelle’s hand reaching up to cradle Peter’s cheek, before returning to their cuddle. Michelle leaves her head lying in the crook of his neck while tangling her leg with his, leaving her hand to softly trace along his lean muscles.

"My dork. I like the sound of that,” Michelle whispers, letting out a sigh as Peter turns his head and plants a kiss on her forehead.

’This is my real treasure.’

A/N: So, full disclosure, that was my first time writing what could probably be described as smut. It’s not explicit, but I wouldn’t exactly call that middle part fluff. Weirdly, I was going to write an angst fic before I saw a prompt, which was going to be an ‘incorrect quotes’ post, which then became this. If you want, feel let me know what you think.

[loveissupernatural]

"The Man Behind the Mask"

Pt 1                      

Peter Parker x reader

Warnings: None

Summary: You’ve recently moved to Queens, New York after your father finds a new job with the U.S. government handling alien affairs in the city. You’ve grown up in a small town, and it’s your junior year of high school; culture shock takes a whole new meaning when you’re saved by the famed new web-slinging Avenger - and when you meet a new group of friends at Midtown High that seem to always be hiding something. But things quickly get personal.

Masterlist

You sigh angrily, throwing a decorative pillow with all of your might at your new headboard. It bounces pitifully on the bed before it lands on top of one of the many cardboard boxes you have yet to unpack. You didn’t want to be here.

“Hey now,” your mom scolded jokingly, appearing in the doorframe of your new bedroom, “what did that pillow ever do to you?”

You didn’t smile, despite her teasing. You were mad at her, at Dad, at the whole situation, and you wanted her to know. Ya know, just in case the screaming tantrum you threw when they broke the news of your move wasn’t enough of a clue.

“Where’s Dad?” you ask in a monotonous tone, crossing your arms and sitting on your window sill, avoiding her eyes and looking out over the begrudgingly-nice view you had.

“He’s just gone into the new office, sweetie,” she answered, her tone guarded. She crossed her arms as well and leaned against your doorframe. “He wants to make a good first impression with the new director.”

“So he drug us here and isn’t even going to help us unpack?” you spat. You knew you weren’t being entirely fair but right now you didn’t care. Your father’s new job offer uprooted your entire life - not that you didn’t want to be happy for him, but your own misery was a monster that was quickly growing. With every minor inconvenience since you’d crossed the New York state line, the monster devoured it as fuel.

“I realize you’re not happy, and that you don’t want to be here,” your mom said quite suddenly, all traces of lightheartedness gone from her voice, “but this change is happening. It’s happening right now. We’re a family, and this is the opportunity of a lifetime for your dad. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the people you love, Y/N.” You still refused to look at her, eyes glued to a colorful clothesline hanging a few feet below you. “Look, you left your friends, your life… I know. I had to, too. But Y/N, if you want to make the most of this, you’re gonna have to change your attitude. And you are not - I repeat - you are not making your dad feel even more guilty than he already does. This makes him happy. Alright?”

You sighed again, knowing she was right, chewing on your lip as if nursing your broken pride. You hummed in acknowledgement, refusing to give her the satisfaction of apologetic words coming from your lips. She was right, but that didn’t change the fact that you’d been wronged.

It was a mere three weeks ago when your dad made the announcement at dinner over a cold box of pizza that you were moving. At first, you weren’t upset - a new house a little further away wouldn’t be so bad. People moved all the time. You could still see your friends. But then he said those two words: “New York”. As in, halfway across the country New York. As in, you’d be lucky to see your friends once a year New York. As in, every person you knew, every nearby family member, every road you knew like the back of your hand was gone New York. It was all gone. Replaced with skyscrapers and traffic jams and the occasional alien attack.

As soon as the words “New York” fell from your father’s lips, your heart detached itself from your ribcage and fell into the dark pit your stomach had become.

“We’re gonna freakin’ die, Dad. Haven’t you seen all of the alien attacks in New York City?! What in the hell makes you think moving there is a good idea??” you had insisted, hysterical.

He sighed, suddenly looking ten years older. “That’s just it. That’s why we’re going. The Department of Defense has a lot of positions opening up there, Y/N, and they headhunted me. It’s a huge raise. It could be really good for us.”

“No, it could be really good for you,” you corrected through slitted teeth. Both of your parents regarded you with shock. You were a good kid, a respectful daughter. You rarely talked back and they almost didn’t know how to register your sudden hostility. But your dad bounced back first.

“I’ve given this a lot of thought, Y/N,” he began, and you could see the vein popping in his temple. “Your mother and I thought long and hard about this. We know it’s scary, we know it’s a big step. *We know*. You’re in shock, we weren’t expecting you to take it well. But you will not be disrespectful.”

“Disrespectful?! You wanna talk disrespectful?” you yelled, shooting up from the dinner table with a clash of glasses and silverware. Your hands were fists on the tabletop. “Disrespectful is having no consideration for anyone but your wallet. What about me? What about my friends? What about Grandma and Pop? What about all of your friends? This - this is all I’ve ever known! I was just voted captain of the soccer team this year!”

“Now, Y/N, calm down,” your mother tried to coax you, but it was in vain. You were fuming.

“No, I will not ‘calm down’, Mom!” you cried. “I’m graduating in two years! Can’t - can’t you just wait??”

“The job offer is now and it’s fleeting,” your father said. His voice was rising, too. “And I’ve decided to take it. You don’t have to like it, but you do have to deal with it.”

Before you said something that would get you in serious trouble, because you could feel the hot-worded anger boiling in your throat, you stomped out of the dining room and locked yourself in your bedroom. You’d screamed into your pillow until your voice was gone, you’d cried until there were no tears left, you’d thrown every pillow and punched every blanket until you were out of breath. None of it dulled the ache in your chest and the ice in your stomach.

With tearful goodbyes to your friends and family, and death glares at your parents, you’d hopped into the enormous white moving truck and watched your entire life fade away in the rearview mirror. All of it was gone, and you were empty except for the prickling coals of anger heating your veins. It’s all you could feel.

“I’m gonna finish unpacking the living room and order some take out,” your mom stated, pulling you from your memories. “Eat or don’t eat. Pout in your room all night. Or come out and get some of your favorite food and maybe calm down for a second.”

You didn’t reply, and after a few minutes, you’d turned to see that she’d disappeared. You fully planned on locking yourself in your new room, but your growling stomach disagreed with you. Trying to ignore it, you grabbed the TV remote out of your nightstand drawer and clicked it on. The cable had been set up a few hours beforehand, and you hoped that a nice sitcom might take your mind off of your disintegrating life.

The screen came to life and before you could change the channel, a man swinging from webs in a bright red and blue suit overtook the screen, a news woman’s voice urgently reporting as much as she could without running out of breath. You immediately sat up in bed, crawling closer to the TV screen as if you needed a better look. It was him, the guy you’d heard about all over the news for the past year. Not living in New York didn’t make you ignorant about superheroes, especially ones that had anything to do with the Avengers. They all fascinated you, to be honest.

You watched in amazement as the suit-clad Spider-Man swung through buildings, landing on top of an eighteen-wheeler with ease and stopping a large-scale bank robbery. The entire account was filmed by a mixture of news cameras and blurry cellphone cameras alike. One thing was for sure, you’d forgotten all about your bad mood.

“Spider-Man, despite his less-than-legal way of scooting around police, was the reason these criminals are behind bars right now,” a news correspondent insisted. “Police had lost the trail halfway through the chase! Without Spider-Man, these guys would probably be leaning back with their feet up in an abandoned warehouse somewhere, fanning themselves with their stacks and stacks of stolen money, Grace!”

The interviewing news anchor, apparently named Grace, nodded. “On a different note, let me ask you, Mr. Blair, what do you think of all these rumors that Spider-Man is officially part of the Avengers?”

“It’s possible, Grace,” Mr. Blair conceded. “I mean, not long ago he was swinging around in a hoodie. Now he’s got a full-on suit, looking pretty spiffy if you ask me.” He laughed. Grace smiled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if this guy, whoever he is, got some kind of backing from someone. Whether it’s the Avengers, who knows? All we know is that he helped out Tony Stark during his little, uh, dispute with Steve Rogers.”

Grace’s grin widened. “Thank you for joining us, Mr. Blair. We appreciate your input, as always.”

The words of the newscasters faded from your ears as you focused on all of the different clips playing of Spider-Man. He was pulling people out of a burning building, then he was taking on at least five different guys twice his size, letting a frightened mother and her two small children run to safety. He was so quick, knowing what the men in ski masks were going to do seconds before they did it. You sucked your bottom lip underneath your top teeth.

You’d done your research on New York, and it wasn’t long before Spider-Man became the answer to almost every Google search. Besides the occasional random story on a new construction piece or movie being filmed in Times Square, Spider-Man was all over the internet. You’d heard of him, of course, but it’d slipped your mind that you’d be moving to a city with its own bonafide superhero. If there was one tiny thing you didn’t mind about moving to Queens, it was that. As much as you wanted to meet the web-slinging hero, part of you hoped you were never in a situation where you had to.

“Y/N,” your mother called from the kitchen. “Please do me a favor and walk to the corner store right down the street and get some of that soy sauce that your dad likes so much. I wanna have it ready when he gets home.”

You groaned. “Why can’t you go get it?”

“Because I’m not sitting around watching TV,” she called back. “Now go.”

You groaned loudly and slipped on your tennis shoes, grabbing your purse and speed walking out the door. You avoided your mother’s eyes the whole way.

While walking through the apartment building’s lobby, you begrudgingly admitted to yourself how nice it was. You’d lived in a house back home, but the apartment was the same size at the very least, and ten times fancier with a large kitchen with granite countertops and large bedrooms. If you didn’t hate the move so much, you might even feel like you’d upgraded.

You asked the clerk at the desk where this corner store was, and he pointed out the window to your left. “Go down a block or two and it’s on your right. It’s called Sherman’s.”

You mustered up a smile and thanked him, and it must’ve been convincing because he smiled back. You walked through the double doors into the noisy cityscape, taking a deep breath and smelling less car exhaust than you’d expected. You began your trudge to the corner store.

You passed by people on your way, none of them looking up to smile at you or even nod a greeting. You even accidentally bumped a guy’s shoulder and he barely glared at you before walking off - you didn’t even have time to apologize. Maybe the whole New-Yorkers-are-rude thing wasn’t so far from the truth.

By the time you’d found the corner store, which took longer than you’d expected, went inside, found Dad’s favorite soy sauce (which also took longer than expected), and grabbed a few small things for yourself, it was almost dark outside. You shivered at the breeze as you stepped out of the door, hearing the faint jingle of the bell. The sun was quickly retreating. You looked around, noticing the sidewalks had emptied considerably. You decided to hurry home, not liking the dark in this new place.

With your hands full of groceries and your purse hanging limply by your side, you struggled to walk as quickly as you might have liked. Your building wasn’t even in view yet and it was getting darker by the second; the street lights were turning on. You sighed heavily and tried to pick up the pace.

An apple that you’d stuffed into the bag last minute before approaching the check out counter suddenly slipped from your bag, along with a pack of cookies and your dad’s soy sauce, which thankfully was in a plastic bottle and didn’t break.

“Fuck,” you cursed, probably more loudly than you should’ve, rolling your eyes and setting down your belongings to pick up your mess. Five second rule with the apple, you wanted the damn thing.

You stood up after picking up the cookies and soy sauce, looking for your neglected apple. It wasn’t on the ground.

“You drop something?” came a hoarse voice from behind you. You turned around and jumped, a filthy-looking man smiling teethily at you; and it didn’t look kind. The apple was in his dirty, gloved hand. He did not extend it to you.

“Uh… you can have it,” you said quickly, your voice sweet and obviously frightened. His smile only grew and it did far from comfort you.

“I’ll tell you what,” the man said, and you suddenly caught a whiff of his vile breath, “you give me your purse, and I’ll keep my little buddy here in my pocket.” Every muscle in your body froze. He pulled his tattered coat back to reveal a handgun, gleaming black and threateningly in its dingy pocket.

This couldn’t be happening. On your first night in New York, in all the places you could be, you were here, a block away from your very nice and seemingly-safe apartment building, being mugged. Of damn course. This would only happen to you.

Your mind was racing a million miles per second. Could you run? Would you make it? Could you scream for help? All of your options seemed like a bad idea as his menacing grin grew even larger, the gun still gleaming threateningly in his visible pocket. He could see you working out all of your options.

“I wouldn’t run if I were you, baby,” he chuckled, even though it sounded more like a wheeze. A shiver ran down your spine at the sound. “Even a pretty thing like you can’t outrun a bullet.”

Your purse and it’s belongings weren’t worth your life. You fully intended to hand it over, but you were frozen. Your muscles wouldn’t move. Fear nailed your feet and hands right where they were. And the menacing figure towering over you was growing angry.

“Are you deaf or somethin’?” he demanded, and suddenly the barrel of the gun was being waved in your face. “Do I gotta spell it out for ya? Give me your God damned purse or your brain is gonna be scattered all over the sidewalk!”

You were shaking. Tears were flowing freely down your cheeks, and you don’t even remember when they started. Your groceries lay forgotten on the ground.

“I - I - please don’t -“ you stuttered, but he didn’t let you finish. He yelled obscenities at you as he pushed you forcefully to the ground in the adjoining alleyway, pointing the gun right between your eyes. You sobbed on the ground, no way out. Your purse was in his grubby hand now, he had what he wanted. But you’d pissed him off.

“You dumb bitch,” he spat at you, and you heard him click off the safety. “All you had to do was give me your fucking purse but you’re gonna stand here and cry and waste my fucking time?! I should shoot you in the fucking head.”

You couldn’t see through your tears now. The streets were deserted, there was no one near enough to save you from a gunshot before they heard it. You were gonna die in this stupid city before you were even here 24 hours, and you were gonna die alone. Your lifeless body would end up in a dumpster somewhere with half of your skull blown to bits. You suddenly weren’t angry at anything or anyone anymore, you just wanted to go home.

He rose the gun, indifferent to your tears, and put his finger on the trigger. The damn heathen looked excited.

BOOM

You screamed, flinching, squeezing your eyes shut, waiting for the pain to come. But it didn’t. You gasped, opening your tear-filled eyes, to find the would-be-murderer on the ground, groaning, the gun knocked out of his hand.

And standing over him was none other than Spider-Man.

“Now that’s no way to treat a pretty lady,” the masked hero shook his finger, kicking the man’s face when he tried to sit back up. You stared in wonder, your tears forgotten. His voice was higher than you’d expected, almost like he was young. Much younger than you’d thought. His frame was lithe, thin, but muscular. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Fuck you, freak,” the mugger spat at him, blood running from his nose earnestly. Spider-Man seemed more disappointed in this comment than angry.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” he asked, shaking his head, but didn’t wait for a reply before he shot a web directly over the man’s chapped lips. He kicked him again, and the mugger slumped over, out cold.

You watched in amazement, everything almost moving in slow motion, as Spider-Man stepped over the criminal’s body and turned toward you, approaching. He was even more glorious in person. He knelt down, now eye level with you since you were still sitting on the ground in shock, hands and knees bloodied. His large white eyes auto-focused, squinting, like he was looking you over for injuries. You couldn’t help but smile a bit at how damn cool that was.

“Are you okay, miss?” he asked, extending a hand to you to help you up. You gladly took it, your mouth hanging agape at the sight of him. You held to his other arm to steady yourself, and you were surprised at how soft the suit was, but it looked invincible. You suddenly remembered the newscasters’ conversation about his upgraded suit.

“You - you’re - you’re him,” you stated dumbly. His mask’s eyes squint like he’s smiling.

“That’s me, just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man,” he said, spreading his arms and making a little turn. He somehow made it seem humble.

“He was gonna shoot me,” you stated, again, dumbly. Your mouth hadn’t caught up to your brain yet, you were still reeling. You felt lightheaded, adrenaline weaning away.

“I wasn’t gonna let that happen,” he said with a little shrug, like it was the simplest thing in the world. His voice was kind, it was like honey.

You hastily wiped your tears, suddenly incredibly self-conscious. You felt like a damsel in distress, which was exactly what you were, and you didn’t like the feeling. You felt weak.

“I’ve only been here 8 hours and I managed to get mugged and meet the famous Spider-Man?” you laugh, almost to yourself.

“Whoa, 8 hours? You’re not from around here, are you?” His voice was painstakingly sincere and curious.

You were in an alleyway, with an armed mugger knocked out cold, having your first conversation in New York, with Spider-Man. This was your life?

“Just moved here actually,” you smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. The attention he was giving you was making your cheeks very red and there was no way he wasn’t noticing.

It was evident he was smiling under the mask. He was definitely noticing. That just made you redder.

“Well, it sounds like you’re a magnet for trouble. What’s your name?” His voice was so damn sweet.

“Y/N,” you said a little too quickly.

“Why don’t I make sure you get home okay, Y/N?” he suggested, bending down and retrieving your groceries and purse for you. Your apple looked positively pitiful. You gladly took your purse and one of the grocery bags, while he insisted on carrying the other.

“Probably not a bad idea,” you laugh lightly, and you felt even more lightheaded. Your stomach was full of butterflies. “Who knows what else could happen to me in the next block?”

Then it all happened so fast. Just as you turned to head for the sidewalk, Spider-Man pushed you behind him, web slinging from his wrist toward the mugger that was supposed to be out cold. During your conversation, he’d managed to sneak toward his gun and aim it toward you two. But before any shot was fired, his wrist was webbed to the brick wall, along with his other wrist, his mouth still covered in the white sticky substance as well. He yelled and cursed unintelligibly underneath the web gag, his face pink in anger.

“Come on, man, really?” Spider-Man asked exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. Your heart was pounding but Spider-Man was as calm as if he were just talking about the weather. He was strong and lean in front of you. You tried your very hardest not to stare or enjoy his hold on you too much - after all, ogling him after he’d saved your life twice was hardly polite.

He turned to you again, much closer this time considering the fact he’d been your human shield - was he human? - and ran his hands up your arms before settling at your shoulders. For someone so strong his touch was very gentle.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized, almost sounding bashful. “Are you okay? Again?” His masked face was so close, you could see the tiny, tiny lenses that made up the whites of his mask’s eyes. You gulped.

“Uh, y-yeah. Totally fine,” you lied. Your heart was thumping so hard it was like it was trying to escape the prison of your ribs.

Spider-Man’s head suddenly turned, as if listening to something you couldn’t hear. A few seconds later, you barely heard it - sirens in the distance. Someone must’ve heard the gunshot and called the police.

“Aaand that’s my cue to go,” he told you, shrugging in an apologetic way as he backed further into the shadow of the alley.

“Wait!” popped out of your mouth before you could stop it. What did you want him to wait for? So you could hug him? Kiss him? Thank him? Grovel at his feet in appreciation? Some combination of all four? He’d already shot a web at a nearby fire escape and was readying to swing away. He turned at your sudden outburst.

You ran toward him, wrapping two arms around his neck and hugging your face to the side of his own. The mask was so soft and you could feel his cheek upturn into a grin. After a moment of shock, he returned the hug with the arm that wasn’t holding his web.

“Thank you,” you whispered as sincerely as you could.

“Y-yeah,” he said, seemingly a little embarrassed, and you felt satisfaction seep through you. You were grinning like a fool when you pulled away, and he looked at you for a second more before disappearing with a few flips and jumps over a nearby rooftop.

Pt 2

[wordsinwinters]

Then Again, P11  Peter Parker x Reader

Author’s note:

(Here I am, 30 minutes early! Wild!)

Hey guys! Thank you so much to everyone who commented in one form or another last night and today. To everyone else: Y’all aren’t allowed to read this chapter, you didn’t earn it 😉 

All jokes aside, those comments really meant a lot even if they might’ve been slightly forced 😅 I finally got back into the writing groove last night and I’m hoping it lasts!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

Without further ado, a slightly longer, Peter P.O.V. chapter:

Then Again, Part 11

Words: (1123)

Standing up, I turn and survey the area by default. Cars are gliding down streets, two workers from the hotel are smoking outside, and the bugs from the trees and lampposts are buzzing and flying without purpose.

Everything is calm, normal, and still. It gives me another dose of hope. I can fix this.

I’m going back and making things right. I’m ready to apologize. Maybe I can salvage this trip, the thing she’s been so excited for. Speaking of which, I’ll definitely need to apologize to Ned and MJ too. The whole team, considering.

I pick up my phone, wondering if I should send her a text so I don’t waste another minute of her being upset or worried while I figure out how to sneak back in the building.

My screen is full of ignored messages.

“Ned: did you just leave? seriously?

“I heard the door. was that you or her?

“MJ said if I can’t hear yelling under the door you’re probably not there. so where are you??

“unless you’re there by yourself.

“but i’ve heard you cry and that’s not you.

“I know my messages are going thru. you’re totally ruining whatever chance you’ve got.

“dude this is like the worst peter parker behavior ever. way worse than ditching me and MJ at that party. she’s seriously upset. you should be there.

“may said you’re still being unreasonable. come on bro. this is the last text I’m sending u.”

The last message is from half a minute ago, half an hour after the previous text.

“DUDE.”

Shit.

It’s like ice water has been poured down my back. I’ve never seen Y/N actually cry over anything. Like sad-scene-in-a-movie cry or just-finished-reading-a-really-good-book cry probably a million times, but nothing real. She’s only quiet if something gets at her. I’m the one who can almost never keep my emotions off the radar. If I could, my eyes and throat wouldn’t still be burning and my face might look less red than my suit. (Not that I have it. Aunt May has it on lockdown at home.) Ned’s right: I should be there. I should have been able to stay with her in the first place to talk this out.

As I picture her in that room, crying alone, I feel my gut drop and my throat itch. This is the worst part of tonight.

Ned is definitely right. Or was, half an hour ago when he dubbed this my worst behavior ever. I have to go back immediately.

Get it together, Peter. You’re Spider-Man.

The whole walk back, I think about how I left her alone and probably more confused and hurt than I was when I stormed out. I’m such a shitty friend. This is exactly why I don’t deserve to be more than that to her. Jogging up the stairwell, I imagine how many people are in this hotel, all concentrated in the area I’m about to enter (though they’ll be stacked above and below and on the side of me), and how if each of them knew how horrible I’ve been, they would probably kick me out. I can’t believe I left her crying.

I pause at the top of the stairs. I take a breath and I open the door.

Quietly with the key Ned and MJ left me, I slip into the room. For the split second it takes me to shut the door, light from the hallway falls over a massive blanket cocoon huddled on the left side of the bed. It’s something she does whenever she’s stressed or anxious. Anytime she has an important paper or project or presentation, she ends up like this the night before it’s due. It helps when she gets headaches too, I think.

You did this, dumbass.

My chest is tightening all over again. I take a few steps forward and kneel beside the bed. I’m semi-prepared. I tug a corner of blanket away from her face and lean in near her ear to whisper.

“Y/N? I know you probably don’t want to see me right now. I just want to say I’m so sorry. I... I’m an idiot. A bona fide moron. If you never want to talk to me, I understand. But if you do, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be your personal slave for a month. I’ll let you wear the suit whenev- like twice a week. I’ll do anything you want. I’m so sorry I freaked out and messed everything up.”

That wasn’t so hard. I exhale.

Y/N doesn’t respond.

She’s not even awake.

The faint glow from the streetlamps outside and the alarm clock on the nightstand is enough to outline her face in pale red. Not a muscle moved. I’ll say it again tomorrow. More. And I’ll say it better. If I practice a better speech in my head a thousand times, maybe she’ll forgive me. Then we can work on never letting this happen again.

God, I’ve been such a moron.

I stand up and head to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Maybe it’s from trying to talk to her after today, but there’s this numb tingle in my arms somewhere between an itch and restlessness. It reminds me of how weird the first week was after the bite. Like the rest of my body is pushing my skin too far.

I look at the mirror. Shit. If Aunt May were here, she’d probably be freaking about a bit. I look rough. I look like shit.

I shake my head and focus on just getting ready to sleep. As inconvenient as it is, the competition is still tomorrow.

On the sink: my toothbrush, toothpaste, and retainers. Good, right where I left them. My bag.... Not where I left it. It was on a floor. Now… it’s not. It’s not in the bathroom at all. There’s a bag, but not mine. I turn off the light and open the door.

I use my phone to look over the room with dim light. Nothing. I open my messages.

“Ned, did you take my bag by accident?”

Whoosh.

Ned might be asleep now; MJ definitely is. If they have my bag, I don’t have my clothes. I planned on sleeping on the floor, but I really don’t want to be just in my trunks when she wakes up and we talk. That’d be weird.

Buzz.

“Ned: not an accident. MJ’s idea. you’ll be the most vulnerable person in the room and self-conscious enough to feel cornered into a bit of honesty. it might help the mission. it might make you think before you speak.”

Life would be easier if my friends weren’t so smart.

Part 12

Next update: Friday, November 10

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