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#peter’s hair is gonna change so much ;-;
kyuyua · 2 years
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“…stop it.”
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webslingingslasher · 2 months
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Begin Again
an: this has been a long time in the making and I think it's a favorite of mine.
Pairing: Peter Parker X Mean!Reader
Genre: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers.
CW: harsh language, mental breakdowns, mentions of cheating (not peter)
Word Count: 24K
Summary: You've lived next door to Peter your whole life and the last nine years you've detested him. Now you're going through a breakup and it's nice to know someone's awake with you. Even if it is Peter Parker.
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Breakups suck.
That’s it. That’s the whole message. There’s nothing else to add, except you’d never let yourself love again. It’s not like you didn’t know it wasn’t going to happen, you were aware the entire year what it would lead into, but hasn’t every girl sworn, at least once, they were the exception to a boys rule? 
Natalie Greene’s voice echoed in your mind, “don’t get involved with a senior boy. They move on and you’re left picking up the pieces in homeroom.” You didn’t listen. You got involved and it was a good year, you knew he was going to college and when he left the break up was inevitable. Still, it didn’t hurt as hard until three months into the school year he called and said he met someone else. 
You wish you weren’t so kind and understanding to him.
You called Natalie Greene the second it ended, she picked up and that angel voice of hers shined through the phone. She asked ‘hello?’ three times before you sobbed. You could feel the empathy in her tone, ‘he ended it, huh?’ All you could do is squeak back, ‘stay right there babe, I’m on my way with the break up kit.’  
She showed up with a stray grocery bag. “alright,” she stated, hands on her hips. 
“I got ice cream, a super soft blanket, movies - of all genres, face masks, a lighter-” 
“Why do you have a lighter?” 
Natalie rolls her eyes with a goofy grin, “to burn stuff, duh.“
The gesture was nice, but you couldn’t focus on the movie.
It felt like everytime you blinked there were tears that would find themselves tracking down your cheeks, you sniffled occasionally and blankly stared at the screen; flashbacks clouding your mind. Each kiss, each laugh, each touch, every fight and makeup, the first time you felt someone's hips melt into yours. 
A supercut of every moment. 
You were replaying a thousand things and all he was thinking about was the new girl under him, you were angry at everything all at once. Angry at yourself for letting yourself get hurt and feeling this much pain, because you knew it was coming, it was the whole agreement when it started. Angry at him for not breaking his promise and loving you anyway, angry at him for not telling you he’d wait for you and everything would be okay. 
Angry that you hate him and yourself but more angry how quickly you’d fall back into him if he called. 
“I knew this was gonna happen, Nat.” You sniff, a cry bubbles from your throat, “so why does it hurt so bad?” 
Your friend frowns, she’s no savor to heartbreak. She’s been where you are more times than one could take, she still loves with her whole heart and you don’t know if you could ever do it again. Natalie wraps her arms around your shoulders while you shake with a sob, you cry into her knowing you're matting her blonde hair but she just pats you and holds you close. 
“Because even though the ending was coming it didn’t feel real until the book closed. And maybe a little bit because you hoped he’d change his mind.” 
You gasp, “how do I get past this? Nat, it feels..” 
You’re tugged into her so tight you can feel her collarbone against your cheek, “like you’re dying? Yeah, that happens. But, you’ll live. It doesn’t feel like it now, but the day will come where you can think about him, smile, and thank him for the opportunity.” 
You snort, “for breaking my heart?” 
Natalie Greene holds you as tight as she can, “for making you grow.” 
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Your shoulders feel like they’re falling behind you as you inch along the hallway, everything feels heavy. Your feet are like lead blocks, and your heart feels like it’s been tied down with an anchor. It hurts more to know he’s not aching like this, he has someone new to keep him busy. 
Blinking at your locker you fight back a yawn, two weeks after heartbreak and it still feels the same. You sleep like shit, tossing and turning and weird dreams when you finally dozed off. The one thing that’s helped keep your mind away from him, was your neighbor. Every night, at 3:02 am, on the dot, you hear the same movements. 
A window slams shut, two soft hops on the floor and three bumps against the wall. 
For six nights straight you kept count, it was methodical. A nightly routine, you weren’t sure what he was doing, but it was something. It made your mind wonder, your most recent theory was that he was a smoker; weed, cigarettes or whatever, and he would blow smoke out his window before landing in bed. 
Maybe his bed was against your wall and that’s why you heard so many small knocks. 
Last night you stayed up, you waited and right on the minute, like you expected, you heard a window slam shut. A small grin crossed your face, not at him, but at the idea of a constant. You lost your reliable figure, he’s thousands of miles away with his own new person, but tonight, and for the last seven nights you’ve had something to rely on. Something that couldn’t go anywhere. 
You blink and suddenly you’re staring at your open locker, you don’t even remember putting in the combination. On autopilot you grab what you need for your next three classes and shrug your backpack down. Lately, it seemed like everything moved in slow motion. 
“Are we ready to go to Flash’s party friday and makeout with a rando or are we still numb to everything?” 
Natalie smiles at your figure, when you slouch and give her a “hey, Nat,” her blonde hair bounces as she nods her head understandingly, “still dead to the world, understandable.” 
“At this point I’d do heroin to feel something,” your deadstare makes her think you might be serious. “Tell you what, if you’re still this miserable in six weeks, we’ll do it together.” 
Your eyebrow quirks, “you’d do heroin with me if I’m still this miserable?” 
Natalie Greene’s hand sticks out, her eyes ferocious. You know immediately she has something up her sleeve. 
“Six weeks, starting today.” 
You have nothing else to go on except the nightly wake up call and Natalie Greene’s plan. 
“Six weeks.” 
It’s solidified with a handshake, your fingertips turn white in her hold. 
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WEEK ONE.
Natalie Greene had talked you into going to Flash’s party, not to makeout with anyone, she quickly withdrew that from the table. You had been very hesitant at first, pushing at every restraint and reason to why you shouldn’t go and she stopped you right there. Manicured hand and all, petite and poised, she stopped your path. 
“Here’s why you should go: get fucking wrecked, absolutely smashed and let it all out. I promise you, babe, it feels so, so good.” 
“You think that will make me feel better? Getting hammered at a house party on a friday night?”
“I’ll take care of you for the night, okay? I’ll get you drunk and you can cry or scream or whatever you want. Let go of anything you’re holding back, that’s why you should go.” 
You look her over, she’s been your rock the last three years in the school. Natalie is different, she protects and cares for herself like she does someone else. She also gives out more of her heart than she should, but she appreciates the burn it leaves. She tells you it’s one more ache preparing her for the one who would never make it hurt again. 
If Natalie Greene says it’ll help, you’ll listen. 
“You’ll drive me home and take care of me the next morning? Hungover and all?” 
A denim jacket covered shoulder shrugs, “I think it’s time I repay you for all these years.” 
For the first time in two weeks a real smile crosses your face, it’s small but it’s there. 
Flashforward two days later, you’re eight drinks in and feeling like you’re flying. 
You sway against your friend, “and he,” you hiccup, “he said he was like, soooo in love with me but then like, fuckin four days later,” it took you a moment to hold up the correct number on your hand, “boom, no boyfriend.” Natalie tried to hold back a laugh but her cheeks blew up when she let it escape, you pulled the most comical ‘what the fuck?’ face. 
“I mean who the fuck does that- a sick person. That’s who! And- And you know what?” you hiccup, “I thought I’d be sad, but I just kinda hate him, does that make me bad?” 
“Nah, I had some that killed me inside and some that I just shrugged off. Some moved in waves. One minute I’d say ‘fuck him!’ and the next I’d be overwhelmed with sadness because I didn’t have anyone to hold me anymore.” 
You blink at her words and swallow the rest of your cup, you hadn’t thought about that part yet. Not having anyone to call yours anymore, that’s the hardest hitting part. You really, really wanted to call him. Just one more time, maybe he misses you just as much, maybe he doesn’t know how to say sorry, maybe he’s waiting for you to call. 
“I should call him, right?” Your hands fumble at your pockets, your friend panics and grabs at your arms. “No! No, no, no! You absolutely should not call him!” You whine, “but what if he-” 
Natalie grabs you tight, it makes you look at her confused. Her tone takes a sharp turn, she breaks through your drunken stupor in a second. 
“He’s not. He’s not thinking about you, he’s not missing you, he’s not sitting around wishing you’d call him, he’s just not. He broke up with you, you don’t do that if you still care. Don’t do that to yourself, it ended mature. You have to be mature now.” 
Brutal honesty. It puts everything in perspective. 
He didn’t miss you, and that… really, really hurt. 
Natalie was right, it comes in waves. Because there comes that sadness, it starts with small blinks and suddenly fat tears skip down your cheeks. “You’re right! He, he doesn’t-” you take harsh breaths, for the first time in two weeks you had a full breakdown. Everything you held back bottled over, you didn’t know how you could hold in so much hurt. 
“Okay, okay. Let’s go, we can cry in the car but not here.” 
Your breath shook the entire way to the car, the moment you sat in the passenger seat you cried. Your voice cracked, “he said he loved me!” Natalie nodded, cranking the engine, “And I’m sure he did, babe. Sometimes these things run their course and it’s no one's fault.” 
It went like that the entire car ride, until she stopped at a McDonald's and got you a milkshake so you could focus on getting the liquid up the straw instead of saying the same three things on a loop. Once you got fries in your mouth the thought of him was erased from your mind, choosing to sing loudly and stick your head out the window on the way back. 
Stumbling and giggling quietly at the late hour while you swayed on the walk to your door, you stretched freely and yawned when you stumbled in. Home alone for the weekend, just how it should be. “I’m getting naked,” you started stripping while walking to your room to change into pajamas, your heart lurches when you see one of his shirts. 
You flop backwards on your bed, the room slightly spins and you close your eyes tight trying to ground yourself. Wriggling into the sheets you sigh, and yawn again. Your head buries into a pillow and sleep is imminent. 
“Sleepy?” 
Natalie Greene stands in the doorway with water and some advil, you smile and pat your bed, inviting her to join. 
“Natalie Greene, you are so great, did you know that?” 
Your friend laughs, you nuzzle into her hand while she strokes your hair, “I did, but a reminder is always nice. Go to sleep, babe. I’ll make toast in the morning.” 
Her gentle touch makes it easy, you yawn one more time. Your voice flutters while you talk into sleep.
“Do me a favor?” 
“Anything,” she whispers. You don’t think he ever loved you this soft.  
“Make sure he gets home for me.” 
Natalie Greene asked who but all she received were soft snores. 
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The birds were screaming the earth back awake. 
At least that’s how it felt, your ears were ringing and there was a dull, present thud in your head. The sunlight has never been so bright, you hold your eyes shut but the ache gets louder and you can’t get comfortable. 
There’s two pills and half a glass of water waiting for you, god bless Natalie Greene. 
“Good morning, sunshine!” You wince and choke on your gulp of water, a knife has pierced your eardrum. “Oh my god, everything is on dial eleven, I think I’m dying.” 
“How are you feeling? Besides the obvious, I mean.” 
She means about him, you take a moment to really think about it. 
“I think… I think I’m doing okay.” 
Your friend smiles and throws her hair into a ponytail, “good, I’m making breakfast. Come join.” 
After ten minutes and infinite pep talk you rise on shaky knees, stumbling towards your door and barely making it to the couch where you spread wide and gulped for air. Your friend snorted at your exaggeration over her shoulder and carefully walked towards you with a piping mug of tea. 
Sitting up you bring a blanket over your shoulders, you squint at her before taking the handle. Taking a sip while you turn the TV on, searching for a midmorning throwaway show. A re-run of The Wendy Williams Show wins, you rest your head on a cushion and stare blankly at the screen. Natalie Greene humming up a tune in the kitchen. 
You hadn’t even checked your phone yet, “what time is it?” 
“Noon thirty.” 
Your eyes widen, “my god,” you mumble to yourself. 
Listening to Wendy your eyes lull shut and suddenly you're sinking back into sleep, you roll over and smack your dry lips. Until your friend is kicking at your shin with two plates in her hands, stacked full of the breakfast nines. 
Your queasy stomach grumbles and any drowsiness is ripped away with hunger. Nearly drooling, you stuff a piece of french toast in your mouth and moan, “Nat, you’re the greatest thing I got.” She bounces her shoulder into yours, “I know.”  
You fall into silence while you scarf breakfast down, booing and applauding when deemed necessary by Wendy. Leaning back you rest your hands over your full belly and pat gently. Swiping your tongue over your gums for any crumbs, you sigh happily. 
“Hey, what did you mean last night? You said to let you know if he got home safely.” 
You wave her off, “drunk stupidness, I hear my neighbor every night around the same time moving around. This last week, I dunno, it felt nice knowing someone else was up too?” 
“Have you ever-” 
Both your necks turn to look at the front door then back at each other, the knocking that caught your attention continues. 
“Who’s-” 
“Did you-” 
You swallow and stand up, not so shaky anymore. Looking through the peephole your forehead hits the door at the sight of said neighbor, you know what they say about devils and appearing, groaning you take a moment to collect yourself and open the door. 
“What do you want, penis?” 
Peter Parker in all his glory, is knocking at your door with a plate of… cookies? 
Neighbors forever, close pals never. You’d played together as kids, mostly elementary age but since you were eight you’ve had a disdain for Peter Parker. You’re not sure where it went wrong, but just looking at him you wanted to roll your eyes. 
“I was going to say, ‘wow, how could a guy ever dump you?’ but now, I’d say that’s how.” 
Normally that wouldn’t hurt, but the recent circumstances made it a cheap shot. 
“Is this your sorry attempt to be a rebound? Because if it is, I want to make it extremely clear I’d rather eat glass than-” 
The plate is shoved into your face, “May had me bring these over, she said your mom told her you’ve been a weepy, miserable mess because some dickhead thought he found someone better.” 
You huff at him, your fingers wrap around his wristwatch as you pull it down, all you heard was weepy and miserable.
“I know you wouldn’t know anything about someone loving you but-” 
“Is that Peter B. Parker?” 
Natalie Greene reminds you of your hangover in record timing, you wince at her shriek. Peter gives a polite, dare you say charming (?) smile. It makes you fight back a gag, “hello, Natalie Greene.” Her eyes flash from his, to the plate, to the cracked open door across the hall and she gets a wicked grin. 
The person you’ve hated and bickered with the most is suddenly the one you listen out for in the middle of the night. The look on her face, the glance she shared with you, proved she knew. 
“Cookies?” Natalie nudges your arm, “he brought cookies and he’s right across the hallway, how nice.” 
Peter’s oblivious to her tone, he has his goofy smile on and it makes you seeth. He’s always so god damn happy, it’s annoying. 
“Well, actually, my aunt made them. But I am delivering, so I can accept some praise.” 
She laughs, full on cackles and nudges you again. 
“You know, in all the times you talked about Peter you never mentioned how funny he was!” 
You don’t know what she’s playing at but you’re shutting it down immediately. 
Peter looks at you, he seems almost hopeful and you have to settle the urge to toss the plate to the ground. “You talk about me?” 
You cross your arms and sneer, “don’t worry, nothing good.” 
His smile drops, “yeah, sorry. I don’t know why..” his curls bounce as he gently shakes his head before pushing the glass into your chest. “Here, eat as many as it takes to feel somewhat okay again.” 
You grip the plate and look down, they’re your favorite. 
“We, um. We have more over here, so if you want more. Or if you wanna hang out or something I’m here, so…” 
Peter’s never been a friend like this before and it was some pity party you wanted no part of now. 
“It’s a breakup. I’m sure I can manage without you just fine.” 
His eyebrows turn in, “right. I just thought- nevermind, enjoy the cookies.” 
Natalie gives him a sympathetic frown and sulks back inside, you keep your glare on his figure until he reaches his door. As you’re about to retreat he stops in the doorway, “for what it’s worth, I think he’s stupid and he’s gonna realize what he lost when it’s way too late.” 
It’s almost nice, sometimes it sucks when the person you’re supposed to hate has human peek through their armor. 
Too bad you’re more guarded than ever. 
“Well, then. It’s a good thing you’re not worth much.” 
Maybe it’s his resilience that troubles you, no matter how hard you push him away or beat him down with words he’ll pick himself back up and hand your words back in a package of self reflection. 
Today is no exception, Peter flashes you a sad smile, this one actually is filled with pity. 
“I’m sorry you’re hurting,” you didn’t have a chance to fire back. His door was already shut.
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Heartache throbbed but the cookies were damn good. 
On your third, you down half a cup of milk. You reach for a fourth and Natalie hasn’t said one word. Instead she cleaned the kitchen and packed up her overnight bag, before settling next to you for an episode of Jerry Springer and her own deserved treat. 
“So, do tell, my friend. Is Peter the one you wanted to know was home safe?” 
Deny till death. 
“No way, I’m talking about Mr. Harrington, he’s like a hundred years old.” 
Natalie takes her time chewing and swallowing, “your hundred year old neighbor is up in the middle of the night?”
It’s dumb to lie, you and her know the truth. 
You shrug and take a fifth cookie, “he may have a routine, I dunno.” 
Your friend hums, “I just thought it may be Peter, cause you share a wall and all.” 
Gagging at his name you shake it off, “Gross! It’s bad enough knowing the plate these were on were in his hands.” It takes you a second but you’re able to plow through another bite. 
“I just… why do we hate Peter so much?” 
You don’t know, you think you blocked it out. Every time you look at him a weird feeling bubbles up and it makes you want to scream, cry, fight and hug it out with him in one second. It’s easier to bark at him than confront him about your feelings. 
“I don’t know. He’s just a pest to me, every time I turn around he’s there. And I swear to god he spilled the beans about that party last year.” 
Natalie Greene knows three things to be true. 
One: Peter Parker likes you, you just don’t know it yet. 
“What if you talked to him?” 
Cookie crumbs fall over your shirt as you talk, “I’m sorry, what?” 
Two: You like Peter Parker, you just don’t know it yet. 
“If you need me and I’m not around, if you need someone to support you through this and I can’t be here, promise me you’ll knock on his door.” 
You scoff at the idea, “yeah, sure.” she’s not very confident you mean it. 
“Seriously, promise me right now if I can’t be there for you, you’ll ask him.” 
She was serious, something in her tone made you shift and agree. It’s not like she’d go anywhere, Natalie Green was your lifeline. 
“Alright! If you aren’t around and it’s literally life or death, I’ll ask… him.” 
Three: Things get worse before they get better, you just don’t know it yet.
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WEEK TWO.
Your mornings always started the same, a routine was important to you. It was consistent. It was wake up, hit up the bathroom, change, yawn and rub your eyes through breakfast before leaving to thrive in silence before school. 
Today, when leaving, right as you’re pocketing your keys, your neighbor speaks out. 
“Hey.” 
You freeze, it’s rare you run into Peter in the mornings. You figure he leaves way earlier, or later than you. But when you do, you ignore each other with silence. You really don’t like the sudden change. 
“How are you doing?” 
You wonder if he heard you crying last night, you thought you got rid of it after the party. You didn’t understand how you could be happy one moment and miserable the next. What made it worse was when 3:02 am hit and you heard his window slam, your sniffles settled. 
“Like I was dumped, thanks for the reminder.” 
Your foot hits the first step when he calls out, “and the cookies?” 
Biting your bottom lip you turn, it really was a nice gesture. You may not like him, but you loved May and she’s the one that put in all that hard work. Peter lights up when you face him, if he had a tail he’d start wagging it. It makes you bite down on your cheek, he doesn’t deserve unprovoked rage. 
“They were really good,” you take three steps before turning back around. 
“And, I uh, took your advice. Ate the whole plate, I mean.” 
Peter fumbles, his key chain drops but he stays looking at you. His thumb shoots behind him to point at his door, “we have like, twenty left. Want some more?” 
You shake your head softly, “maybe later?” Peter nods exuberantly, “yeah, yeah. I’ll bring them over.” 
You curl your lip up and stomp down the steps, “thanks for the warning, penis!” 
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This was it. 
This was your worst nightmare. 
Not only did things get shuffled around until you were sitting next to Peter at dinner, where you made it a point to scoot your chair away from him when his shoulder touched yours and immediately swiped the area clean- But now you blinked blankly at your dinner while your mom droned on and on and on about the guy who dumped you. It didn’t matter if it was good or bad, you just wanted her to stop. 
“And he was so sweet, wasn’t he? Honey, are you sure he hasn’t reached out? It’s not too late to call him, maybe if you-” May didn’t deserve to see you upset, and it kills you that Peter saw that emotion. Your mom didn’t even deserve it, you were so sick of trying to keep it together. 
Your chair screeches with how quick you jump out of your seat. 
“He doesn’t give a shit, he dumped me! So why do you think he’d call? He doesn’t want me, I mean he’s made that clear right?” Your eyes shoot to May’s, “I’m right, right? You don’t break up with someone if you still care, or want them, right?” 
Tears haze your vision, “he ended it with me mom, and you know why? It’s cause he found a new girl! He fucking-” water rushes down your cheeks but you don’t stop, “he,” you collapse on the word, you can’t get a good inhale on breath. 
“He left me to pick up the pieces, that’s all he did.” It clicked full motion, he left you behind and ended it. He got a fresh start and you were left trying to hold it together, like how it was, how it was supposed to be. 
You sob, your chest has never felt so tight. Shaky breaths fade into sharp inhales, you can’t fucking breathe. Gasping you put a hand over your heart, you know in the back of your mind it’s a panic attack but all you feel is imminent death. 
Peter stands and blocks your body with his, you don’t know what’s happening but you’re trying to get away. Each step you take backwards he takes one forwards until you're wheezing in your room, your ears are ringing and it feels like a heart attack is in approach. Your eyes squeeze shut and in an instant you feel calmer, it’s not because of your sudden blink. It’s because Peter has his hands over your ears pressing in, your back against the wall and front against his chest.  
It’s the last place you want to be but you’re angry, and he’s there, and it’s all coming out. 
You’re able to breathe but at what cost? You grip Peter’s shirt as tight as you could and wail into his chest, it’s the first time you’ve ever actually felt him against you. He’s more sturdy than you thought, as you push more and more weight on him he doesn’t stagger one bit. His arms held you to him, keeping steady until you’d push him away. 
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you coughed the words into his shirt, you held tighter when his only response was resting his chin on your head. You apologized and cried until you ran out of tears and your breaths were nothing but sharp inhales. 
When reality hits and you realize you've been crying into Peter’s hold for minutes you push him away and wipe your nose. Avoiding his eyes, you look to the carpet, you have a fresh cry glow and mindset, it’s the good kind of emotional numb. 
“I, um, I still have those cookies?” 
Those being his choice of words after a troubling breakdown was warming, it made you feel like you weren’t so crazy. Or at least, Peter didn’t see you as crazy, which when thinking about didn’t mean much. 
You can’t help but laugh, it’s so loud and opposite of every other emotion you spilled tonight it makes him jump, you see him setting up for the attack. The moment you snap at him and call him a weirdo for cornering you and throwing himself on you. 
Tonight, you were full of surprises. 
“Yeah,” you nod your head and wipe your nose one last time, “I’d love to come over for cookies.” 
You had to look away from his smile, it was too blinding. 
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You broke the rule, you went lurking and hurt your own feelings. She’s all over his instagram, and she’s pretty. He’s all over hers, dating back to five months ago. 
You do a double take, five months? 
He had been cheating on you for months before he ended it. You feel sick. He told you he loved you while he was in bed with another girl. You felt so much rage inside you couldn’t hold it in, Natalie was too far away and Peter’s already seen you at your worst. 
You move without thinking, slamming your fist on his door. 
Wide eyes open it, Peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared he was the subject of attack. You swerve past him, if you were in a cartoon, steam would be billowing from your ears. You didn’t get angry often, and you’ve never felt upset enough to punch someone, but all you could think about was screaming and slamming your fist into the wall. 
“I hate him, I fucking hate him so fucking much. If you ever hear me crying I need you to come over and tell me I’m absolutely pathetic for crying over a fucking cheater.” 
While he’s glad you’re not there to yell at him, his heart sinks for you. 
“I’m so sorry.” 
“It was right in front of my face, too. She’d been claiming him since the second week of school. I’ve been a fool, god, I fucking hate him. I hate him so much I… I want to break something.” 
Peter eyes his science notebook, he doesn’t have anything for you to break, but he has something that will make enough noise to drown out the voices. He grabs it and holds it out, you gently take it giving him a confused look. 
“Wack it. Beat the absolute shit out of it on the counter.” 
You look unsure, you don’t want to ruin his things, even if you don’t like him. 
“Right on the edge, go on, do it.” His egging you on makes you follow his command, it’s gentle. 
“Harder,” you test it. 
“Harder,” you give a smack, it makes a popping sound and you jump, it feels good. 
“Like you mean it, like you need it.” You do it again, it’s louder. You strike down without instruction, Peter starts barking at you, it makes you angrier. 
“Harder, don’t be so weak!”
He hit the right nerve, you can’t stop, you’re moving so quick and using so much force the spine starts to rip from the cardboard. It feels good destroying something, it makes you beat the laminate harder. Loud cracks echoing from the walls. 
You heave for air, every bit of force directed into your diminished trust. You yell between each blow. 
“Fucking!” 
“Piece!”
“Of!”
“Shit!” 
You start to slow down, Peter’s notebook is fucked. You feel bad. Gasping for air when you’re done, Peter gives you a head nod, “better?” 
You nod, “lots. Sorry about your book.” He doesn’t look bothered in the slightest, “it’s a good excuse to get a new one, I hate green.” You peer over the contents in the pages, “that’s a lie, everyone knows science is green.” Peter laughs, he nods like he’s saying ‘you got me there.’ “Doesn’t mean I like it though.” 
Looking down at the notebook, you peer up at Peter. He looks soft, the sleeves of his zip up hoodie covered his thumbs, he has sweater paws. His hair framed his face nicely, his cheeks have a natural pink hue, it’s like he’s always sunkissed, or calming down from a laughing fit. 
The sun is backlighting him perfectly, it makes his eyes look even more honey golden than they already do. You don’t know why you find him slightly cute at the moment, it makes your stomach tug and not in a good way. The last time you thought someone was cute you got burned, and you’ve always had a disdain for Peter. 
Peter was the worst kind of rebound to have because you can’t decide who’d get more hurt from it, and the thought of that makes you want to avoid him forever. 
“You’re looking at me funny.” 
You are, it’s because you’re noticing him for the first time, at least since you were eight. Suddenly you can remember why you cut him out when you were a kid. 
“I had a crush on you when we were younger. I think that’s why I stopped being your friend.” 
Your confession made Peter’s eyes widen, he looks to the ground and hides his smile. When he picks his head back up he looks to the side, his cheeks a bit more flushed than normal. “That’s cute.” 
It was. It was innocent and juvenile, his small response made you laugh. “Yeah, it really was.” You shouldn’t entertain it any further, but you can’t stop. Something about seeing his blush makes you want to keep going, “Wanna know when it started?” He looks curious, “sure.” 
You go quiet for a minute, you haven’t thought about it in years. The moment it clicked you were freaked out, the first time you liked a boy and he was your best friend. You went from wanting to play in dirt to holding his hand. A smile spreads over your face when you watch the memory replay in your mind. 
“We were at the complex playground and we were digging by that droopy tree across from the swingset, and I saw a lizard in the grass and I pointed it out to you. I told you I always wanted to hold one but they moved too fast and scared me, but you held out your arm and said ‘I got this.’” You laugh, replaying it once more. 
“And you dive bombed and picked it up, and you were so fucking proud to have caught it. Then you placed it in my hand but I felt it move around and freaked out, but you held your hand over mine and said ‘don’t be scared.’” 
There’s something about an eight year old Peter Parker with glasses and dirt smudged cheeks that had child you giddy.
Peter’s smiling, it’s like he’s reliving that day in his head too. “I fulfilled your lifelong dream and you fell for me.” You shrug, “maybe.” Setting his notebook on the counter you look around, you feel like you’ve said too much. 
“Hey, um, thanks for the whole… unleashing my anger thing.” You're setting yourself up for a goodbye, Peter can sense it. 
“Are you hungry? Wanna go get some pizza?” 
No matter what was said, or thought, you still have that pinch of annoyance at him. But his brightness was what you needed today, and you hadn’t had lunch. You have a sinking feeling you’d regret it, there was something that felt like it was a bit more than friendly and it had you throwing up every wall possible. 
Still, you find yourself agreeing. 
“Sure. Let’s get some pizza.” 
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It was a stereotypical pizza place and those were the best ones. The wall is covered in pictures of random people, terrible paintings and red checkered tablecloths covered wobbly tables. They had a permanent sticky residue, your elbows peeled when you raised them up. 
“I’m surprised you didn’t judge me on my hawaiian choice.” He always did, he told you it wasn’t authentic and childish.
“Hey, I’m a pizza guy, alright? Anything you put on a pizza belongs on it. I mean, I get the appeal, sweet and savory.” Your face brightens, he understands. “Exactly! And the warm pineapple just hits differently, it’s like-” Peter can read your mind, you say it at the same time. “Fries and ice cream.” 
Another thing he found gross, your head tilts, it just kind of clicks with Peter. Your ex would sneer when you’d go for a dip, you begged him to try it a hundred times, you promised he’d like it but he’d tell you it was ‘fucking gross’. 
“Hawaiian and pepperoni, can I get you kids anything else?” You shake your head while Peter responds for the both of you, ‘no thanks, we’re good.” Peter’s slice has a pool of grease in a slice of his pepperoni, it looks delicious. He sees you eying his choice and holds it out, “you want a bite don’t you?” Your eyes flash to your slice, “only if you take a bite of mine.” It’s only fair. “Swap with me,” you trade plates and tap slices as a cheers, humming when you take a bite Peter nods impressively. 
You swap back and take a bite of yours, it’s heavenly. “I’m glad I got mine.” Peter agrees with the statement, “I’m sorry, babe, but pepperoni is superior. It’s all about keeping it simple.” You know he meant nothing by it, you know it meant it in a friendly way, you know it’s a regular pet name to use in passing, but he called you babe. 
Hearing the term of affection makes your skin crawl, you swallow a lump in your throat. You want to snap at him, but instead your voice comes out soft. “Please don’t call me that.” Peter’s eyes soften, he almost tells you he didn’t mean it like that, but he knows you already understand that. 
“No problem, old lady.” It took a second, but you couldn’t stop the laugh. “What did you just call me?” Peter bites his bottom lip, “well, that’s the opposite of babe, isn’t it?” It makes your smile bigger, it’s funny, if you had asked him something that simple he’d fight you on it, ask a million questions and push it until you gave up. 
For the first time in a month you really can’t remember why you thought he was so great. 
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WEEK THREE.
Natalie Greene has her hair pulled slick back in a ponytail, a determined look and hands on her hips. 
“Let’s fuck some shit up.” 
Lunch with Peter had really pushed you forward, you had strayed away from him the last few days. You still listened for him nightly but avoided him in the hallway and at school, he was everything he was not, and it made you feel queasy. 
It was time you removed him from your life, you started with blocking him on everything. From instagram to duolingo. Then, you piled up everything he left behind or things that reminded you of him, but you couldn’t touch your closet. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Enter Natalie Greene.
“I don’t know why it’s so hard for me, everything else was fine.” Natalie shrugs, your closet doors are open and she’s itching to start rummaging. “It’s not for me. What are we thinking, trash, donate, burn? Dare I say detonate?” 
You snort, “think I could do some black magic?” Her eyes light up, “I’ll look up the dark arts right now, don’t dare me.” You sigh, “I don’t care what you do with them, I just need them out of here.” Natalie Greene understands, she’s been there too a few times. Everything that reminds you of him burns like hell. A constant reminder of what’s no longer. 
It’s only five shirts and some sweatpants but it feels paralyzing. Once his clothes are gone he’s no longer, like the last year never meant anything. He cheated but you still feel like it was real for the time you had him. 
“Shit, can we raincheck the disposal?” Natalie is staring at her phone in her hand, a worried line where her lips were. “Family stuff.” You tell her it’s fine and send her out in a second, staring at the bag you started to twitch. 
It felt daunting- a looming presence. You almost got rid of him but couldn’t. It was five minutes of harsh breathing, then you drag it across the hall hoping Peter was home. You needed them gone. 
 May answered the door and you feel slightly flustered. 
“Hi, May. Is Peter home?” 
She welcomes you in the door, skipping over the makeshift laundry bag and giving a quick but squeezing hug. “How are you feeling?” If you had been asked that a week ago you’d fly off the handle, but this week it feels like you can breathe a bit better. 
“I think I’m doing pretty okay. It helped to know he cheated, it makes me miss him sixty percent less. The other forty makes me feel pathetic.” May frowns with empathy, “my college boyfriend cheated. Betrayal and hurt is a weird feeling when mixed with love.” 
You laugh, “yeah, it really is.” May clears her throat, “Peter’s in his room, he may be busy with some homework.” You thank her and move down the hallway, the plastic bag follows, half of you hopes it rips because it’s what he deserves. 
You knock and wait for his response, grunting when you swing the trash bag over the threshold and let it drop. “I have an odd request for a man.” Peter seems surprised to see you for a second, then looks at the bag and back at you. He seems a bit more weary. 
“Uh huh.” 
“I’m getting rid of his things and Nat had to dip, wanna come with?” You follow up with a wince, “I’m sorry, this is super weird and out of place.”
Peter shrugs, “if it helps, it helps. And if you’re serious, I’ll go with you.” You take a deep breath, healing and growing isn’t always comfortable. “Fuck it, let’s donate some shit.” 
You feel like you stand straighter walking out with Peter behind you, he’s carrying the dead weight and you feel accomplished. May has a raised eyebrow, you hold out your hand and settle her curiosity. 
“Don’t worry, justice is about to be served.” 
May grins at her nephew's soft smile, she’s seen and heard about you more in the last two weeks than she has in the last nine years. “It’s sounding a lot more like twenty percent.” 
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The moment things started turning south was at the donation center. You weren’t even standing super close to Peter, or radiating an aura that even suggested he was anything more than a conveniently close acquaintance. But the volunteer at the front thought differently. 
“Aw, I wish more young couples came in, it always seems to brighten up the place!” 
You feel like a force of wind caught you breathless, every inch of you froze on the spot. When she says couple you think of him, but you’re not a couple anymore. When she says ‘couple’ you feel your heart encapsulate with rubble, the idea of him makes you feel sick. 
You don’t think you could ever love again. 
Especially not with Peter, not even when he shies away with pink cheeks and tries to shrug her comment off. It’s not worth the awkwardness of announcing you’re not a couple, you both know you’re not, and she doesn’t really care if you were or not. 
“We were just in the mood to donate today,” he plays it off well. You chew on your lip and watch him fill out the donation slip, it’s second nature for Peter to take care of you, it was something he mostly failed at. 
Before the attendant can take the bag, Peter stops her by hovering his hand over it, he turns his neck and makes eye contact. “Are you sure you want to do this?” 
Your heart pounds, threatening to crack the rock. 
“I’m sure.” Because, you really are. 
Peter smiles, “any last words?” You try to think of something, nothing comes to mind other than a blur of frustration and confusion. Raising your hand you give it the middle finger, Peter’s laughing at your blank face, “c’mon, you know you wanna double it.” You do, so you did. 
It feels freeing, you’re not healed but you don’t have a daunting weight on your shoulders anymore. A satisfied smile spreads, your hands drop for a second before Peter’s high-fiving you. You’re tucked under his arm after saying his thanks to the confused volunteer, bumping your hip against his and caged in his hold you feel safe. Safer than you’ve ever felt. 
A crack in the rocks, your heart thumps wildly when he drags you opposite from where you came. “Let me buy you a hawaiian.” 
Peter is pretty. You could admit it. Never out loud, but you’d admit it silently. He’s on fire tonight, keeping you laughing and talking. He’s a perfect story teller, he has a way of pulling you in. He’s charismatic and throws himself into every role, voices and body movements.
Your chin is resting on your hand while you focus on every word of his, entranced in his excitement. A lamp hanging over your mini booth makes him look a tad yellow, but his eyes shine brighter than all hell, you never knew brown eyes could suck you in for hours. 
For a second your mind blips and you truly can’t remember his eye color. But you know they’re nothing like Peter’s. 
You forget to react, because Peter cut himself off and waved his hand in front of his face. You blink alert, he has a very charming smile, you look at a table of older women. “You good? Felt like you were trying to look into my soul.”
You can’t stop it, it's a knee jerk reaction and the moment you say it you regret it. 
“Your eyes are very pretty.” You won’t stop looking at a slice of mozzarella on a grandma’s plate. Peter hums, nodding his head like he understands, “so you weren’t trying to sacrifice me, you just got lost in my very pretty eyes.”
The crack splinters, a chunk falls off. You meet his eyes, he’s not making fun of you. You sit straighter and reach out to steal a piece of pepperoni from his slice, acting like you’re not blatantly flirting with ease.
“I just haven’t noticed them before I think.” 
Peter’s quiet for a moment, his arms are crossed on the table, fingers tap on his elbows. 
“Well, I’m glad you are now.” It’s a little too much, he’s not allowed to entertain you back, he could hurt you too. 
You clear your throat, “I need to ask you something.” Peter stops tapping, it’s like he’s been waiting on you to say it. “Yeah, anything.” 
You lean forward a little, “did you tell my mom about the party last year?” He looks slightly disappointed that was your question, “nope.” Your eyes narrow, “I’d rather us not start a friendship built on lies.” 
Peter lights up, “friendship?” A displeased expression was shared, “thin ice, Parker.” He seems a bit more determined to tell the truth this time. 
Peter sits up and interlocks his fingers, “I promise I didn’t tell her. Mr. Harrington did. And I know how much you like him and I thought you would stop going to see him if you knew and he’s super old so I just kinda… let you believe it was me.” 
Your heart breaks free, it’s loud and pumping and it’s making you feel alive. A sense of urgency to do something to him makes you itch, you have to pull your hands to your lap. In that second, for whatever reason, all you want is to feel his skin on yours. 
He’d be willing to do anything for you, even at the cost of you hating him. 
“You’re the most selfless person I know and it’s kind of insufferable.” Peter rolls his eyes, “just admit you like me, god.” Your breath stutters, but you move right past it. 
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep talking about the petting zoo.” 
Peter jumps back into character, “alright, so I’m down on-”
For the first time in weeks you slept through the night, until three am. You woke up on your own, a mental alarm had you looking out for him. After you hear the comforting chorus of movement, you hide under your pillow and go back to sleep.
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Your world is falling apart. You were on the track to healing, each piece of your heart was slowly mending back together. Until news of Natalie Greene going out of town hits, you collapse to your bed with an arm over your eyes. Facetime carries her into your room.
“Why couldn’t your grandma die next month?” She nods her head, folding a tank top to drop it into her carry on. “So true, she should’ve known you were having a crisis.” You nod, “it’s so hard knowing the world doesn’t revolve around me.” 
The room goes quiet as she moves around and packs. You contemplate telling her, you didn’t want a spectacle and you didn’t even know if or what you wanted from Peter. But damn if you hadn’t been thinking about it for days. You wonder if she’s picked up on the hints, you’d been relying on her less and less. 
“Are you going to hang with Peter while I’m gone?” Your mind flashes to him, the past few nights he’d sent you a few videos that he thought you’d like. And you did, even if he didn’t know you as deeply as he has until recently, he still makes you feel seen. 
He would send you things he found funny. 
Peter sends you things he knows you’d find funny. 
“Maybe. He buys me pizza so he’s cool to have around, I guess.” Natalie Greene snorts, “and I’m sure he makes fun of your pineapple.” It feels like your heart shines, “no, actually. He gets it.” Your eyes flash to the top of the screen, a text from Peter pops up, you waste no time hitting the notification. 
‘Wanna come have some brownie cookies?’ 
You bite your lip, rising from your bed you shuffle into your slippers. “Hey, Nat, I gotta go. I’m really sorry about your grandma.” She rolls her eyes, “she was super old and I didn’t really know her, it’ll be cool to see my cousins though.” 
“Have fun on the trip!” 
A wicked grin, “have fun with Peter.” You don’t even fight her on it, she knew exactly what you were doing. 
Your knuckles tapped on the door, it was opened in seconds. Peter had a glow like you’ve never noticed, he only got more and more pretty. A smile stretched across his face, you love how it always meets his eyes.
“Hi.” 
Your slippers softly scrape the wood floors when you enter, “hi.” Peter gestures you towards the kitchen, and for whatever reason, you reach behind you and tug him along. 
“Okay, okay, so what did she say?” 
Your legs swing on the counter, mumbling between mouthfuls of the dessert fusion you’re fully invested in Peter’s story. He had caught Mrs. Hopkins and the chef that lives on floor two in an argument, and it turns out Mrs. Hopkins was the complex's porch pirate. 
Peter swallows his own bite, “she asked me to back her up! And I was all like, ‘hell no, you stole my aunt’s juicer.’” You gasp, “not May’s juicer.” Peter holds a finger up, ‘nah, I caught her red handed. She was so pissed and on the spot she snapped at me like, ‘it wasn’t a juicer, it was a butter dish.” 
You slap a hand over your mouth, “oh no.” Peter’s eyebrows raise, turning his back to grab a glass of milk. “I wish you could’ve seen the look on her face when she realized she told on herself, it was awesome. She was spewing shit all the way to the elevator.” 
Finishing your treat your tongue feels thick, holding out a hand in a silent request for a swig of his milk. Peter looks between your hand and his glass, he looks weary. 
“Are you sure you wanna drink after me? I figured you’d be scared of my cooties.” You motion for the cup, he passes it over and you wrap your palms around the glass. 
“Oh, you absolutely have boy cooties, they just become non-contagious at puberty.” Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, “I think I forgot that lesson, what else can I expect from puberty?” You laugh on a gulp of milk, “trust me, Parker, puberty hit you like a bus. 
He steps closer, you set the glass down next to you. 
“Is that a good thing?” 
You look over his face, he’s got a defined bone structure but soft features. A boyish charm coats over him, it’s just enough of a hint of innocence you beg he never loses it. It’s a no brainer, he was attractive, your eyes flash to his mouth, it’s a wild instinct and you try your best to shake it off. 
“Yes. I’d say puberty was very kind to you.” Peter takes another step, “how so?” Pretending to think about it, like you weren’t already, you take a second to respond. You don’t notice him taking another step. 
“Well, you have a nice jawline.” Peter tilts his head slightly, “is that all?” You’re not sure what it is, but there’s an undertone and it fills you with excitement. 
“And very nice curls.” 
“I don’t think that has anything to do with puberty.” You suppose he’s right, “you’re taller than me now.” You had an inch on him when you were kids. Peter’s suddenly right in front of you, “especially now.” He has to look down at you while you blink up at him from the counter, “yeah, you’re like a giant.” 
Your mind betrays you, his lips are unnaturally pink, they look like they’re the right amount chapped. “Anything else?” You’re struggling, all you can think about is him but you can’t follow a train of thought. 
“You smell really good,” you take a deep breath when his hands rest on either side of you, he’s caging you in and everything builds with anticipation, you fight the urge to pull him in. “You’re just complimenting me now.” 
You shake your head, “do you know how many teenage boys smell bad?” It’s not your fault, he’s so close his scent has invaded your senses, you wanted to inhale him until you turned blue. 
“One more.” You try to think, he’s making it very hard. It takes a second but you have one, proud to have pulled it from the chamber, a sly grin takes place. 
“You-” Lips on yours, it happened so fast you couldn’t catch up. Mind spinning when you realize Peter Parker was kissing you, you know you should shove him off, but it feels right. It’s over as quick as it started. 
You just got out of a relationship, one that tugged you to one of the lowest points of your life so far. It’s not lost on you when you weren’t the one to pull away, but you’re the first one to comment on it. 
“You shouldn’t have done that.” You weren’t mad, you were warning him, he doesn’t know what lies ahead.
“But I really wanted to.” His eyes keep looking you over, was he expecting you to scream? 
It’s dangerous territory, your voice feather soft when it comes out. “And do you want to again?” Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea.
It felt like the air went still in the room, everything slowly melted into the background until it was only you and him. The quiet hum of the air conditioner faded into silence, the scene music from a movie on the tv in the room behind you diluted to nothing. 
It was just you and Peter, and he was getting closer. It was achingly slow, you know what he’s doing, he’s giving you a chance to escape. Bail before it became too real, but has he thought about the possibility of you leaning closer? 
What are you doing?
His lips hovered over yours, when you closed your eyes he took it as permission. 
You’d always heard of the fireworks, that kisses are like explosions of happiness. And they were, and you loved them, but there were no fireworks. At least with him. 
With Peter, your entire sky brightened. Little prickles of electricity dolly chained up your spine, an explosion of color in your mind. It made you starving and whole in one touch, his body made to fit against yours perfect. 
You wonder if he has the same feeling, you think he does when his hand cups your face, the other one tugs your hip so you fit him better. It’s bold of you, but when you feel that entranced you don’t know how to stop. Your tongue swipes on his bottom lip, it’s very clear he doesn’t know what to do. 
You pull away for air, Peter’s pupils blow wide before looking at the floor. His head feels like it’s spinning, the girl he’s always wanted, wants him right back. Peter feels very aware of his surroundings, how hard his heart is pounding, how you’re holding him to you, how you’re tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, how you’re leaning back in, how he’s holding you into him. 
You take the lead, it’s slow but you build his confidence, he’s a quick learner. 
In minutes you’re nearly laid back on the kitchen counter, you’re about to suggest he takes it to his bedroom, but the thought of breaking away from his kiss keeps you stationary. Peter’s locked to you too, your legs hooked around his waist, keeping him as close as he could get. 
All you can think is Peter, Peter, Peter.
He claims he doesn’t know much, but it feels like he’s intune with your body. Peter matches you perfectly, you never knew a makeout session could bring so much tension. A moan pulls from the back of your throat when his thumb peeks under the cotton of your shirt. 
Peter breaks the kiss, little huffs of air billow from your mouth while he kisses down the side of your neck. When he finds the spot that makes you squirm he nibbles gently, a hand tangled at the back of his hair lets him know he’s doing something right. 
Especially when you arch into his touch as his hand confidently slides under your shirt, digging his fingers into the plush skin over your ribcage. “Fuck, Peter,” it’s breathy and eggs him on, he wants to hear nothing but that for the rest of his life. 
Caught up in the moment neither of you heard the door, or noticed the third person in the room, until shock spewed from their mouth. 
“Oh, wow!” 
Peter rips himself away, his instinct is to hide your face into his chest. You’re grateful, it saves the embarrassment of looking his aunt in the eye after she watched you fold under his hands. Peter’s mind is racing, his only priority was keeping you comfortable.
Fuck, he kisses so sweet. Shut up!  
“Hey, May. Get anything good at the farmers market?” 
Blatant ignorance and casual conversation was the route he took, and it seemed to have worked. Cloth bags hit the counter, you stay hidden, Peter’s hand pressed into the back of your head. He’s sturdy, your head lays perfect on his sternum, it was made for you. No, stop.
“Yes! I got more of that european bread we really liked.” As much as you would like to be ignored, May wouldn’t let you. A pat on your knee sent your arms curling around Peter’s waist, he tried his best to settle the clench of his heart. 
Fits perfect, fits perfect, fits-
“You’d love it, it’s roasted garlic, real pieces too!” 
It may be rude to ignore the owner of a home, but you weren’t looking at her for another ten lightyears. At least you give a muffled response into Peter’s chest, “sounds good.” May giggles a little, you hear the fridge open and rustling. 
“Are you gonna hide from me forever?” 
If Peter could play pretend, so could you. You pushed him away softly, “Peter made brownie cookies.” May raises an eyebrow, directing her attention towards her nephew. “Ever since that first plate of cookies Peter’s been baking like it’s his job.” 
He’s perfect.
“You made the cookies?” Peter had told you May did, you’re sure of it. He nods quickly, “I figured if I told you, you’d think they were poisoned.”
You want his touch, you want him pressed into you again. This has to stop.
It’s dramatic, but you’ll bite. “Smart boy.” Peter has a gleam in his eye, “I really am.” 
May knows when she’s third wheeling, she makes an excuse to move to the living room, Peter nods towards his room. You accept his hand down and look behind you at the door. He was frustratingly magnetic, you wanted to do nothing more than fall into bed and stay forever attached to his lips. 
It was a new rush of feelings, most of them new and almost dangerous. You wanted to explore and learn and take some of Natalie Greene’s advice and grow. But more than wanting, you knew you had to leave. 
You were still healing, and if it hurt this bad with him, where nothing felt like this, you can’t imagine the burn this could leave.
“I should go,” you can’t look him in the eye, he’d suck you back in. You’d never be able to leave, you have to leave.
“Is this because of May? Cause we can leave and..” You shake your head fast and take a step back, he’s too kind, too understanding, too new and thrilling and, and… loving. You don’t deserve him or what he brings, you can’t bear the imagination of what his heartbreak would feel like. 
“No, not May.” There was only one thing that kept you from him before, you were still pulling the same childish tricks. Something about Peter Parker caused you irrational terror. 
“I told you, you shouldn’t have done that.” 
Peter tries to look at you, you take another step back. “You asked if I wanted to do it again.” He can’t use logic, it won’t work here. “That didn’t mean do it again.” 
“You sure? Cause it really seemed like you wanted me to do it again.” You feel choked for air, he’s backing you into a corner. 
“You understood wrong. I need to leave.” Your footsteps paused when Peter called out your name, a timid look over your shoulder made him continue. 
“Don’t do this. I know what you’re doing, and it doesn’t end well for either of us. We’re not eight anymore.” Your game was called, you didn’t want to do this, you don’t want to be mean. Why did he have to make you do this to him? 
“Desperation isn’t a good look on you.” 
Peter crosses his arms over his chest, his tongue swipes over his top teeth before poking out his cheek. “Of course it isn’t.” You’re very aware that he expected this to happen, he expected you to push him away and close the gates. If he did, then he shouldn’t have kissed you. He brought this on himself. 
“Nothing is.” What’s a final blow if only to tie the bow on no future contact? Peter took a deep breath and gives you the escape you were looking for, “I’ll see you later.” You shake your head, “no, you won’t.” 
The hallway is cold and so is your heart. Removing Peter as a potential threat didn’t do much, somehow you think it feels worse than what it would be like to love and then lose him. 
Too bad he wasn’t worth the risk. 
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You knew dinner was going to be awkward. You did your best to get out of it but it was deemed impossible, you were about to gouge your eyes out of your head just for a solid excuse. But your mom said that you weren’t allowed to do that. So you didn’t. 
Peter on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life. Especially when May shot you a wink across the table when he reached over your plate. You threatened your eye with a fork, your mom gave you a nasty glare. 
“Butter, please?” 
You cross your arms and scoff, “get it yourself, penis.” Your mom gasped out your name, appalled you would say something like that. She told you to look him in the eye and apologize, using his real name. Peter showed no reaction, chewing on a buttered biscuit. 
“I’m sorry for calling you a penis, Peter.” It was the least authentic apology he’s ever heard. 
“Aw, let them be kids, they’re in love.” 
Your knife hits your plate so hard it chips, Peter chokes on his bite, crumbs fall from his mouth as he tries to speak as fast as he can. “No, no, May… no.” 
You feel the walls closing in, the more you run from it, the more it’s announced. You can’t win. It’s brutal silence on your end, you’re shutting down into a shell of a human. 
“Oh? I thought after-” 
Peter has your back. “After we made pizza? It was one time, May. It wasn’t like I planned it, it just happened. We were hanging out and I just really wanted pizza and I didn’t really stop to think if she wanted pizza, I just made it.” 
May plays right along, and asks you directly. “Does that mean you’re not coming over for pizza anymore?” Does that mean you’re not dating my nephew anymore?
Peter already knows the answer, he just wonders if it’s different if his aunt asks. 
“The last pizza I had burned to a crisp in the oven and it tasted really, really bad. And if that was a pizza I thought I loved, I can’t imagine how bad it would’ve been if it was my favorite.” 
Your mother has never seen you so passionate about pizza. May quirks an eyebrow, she looks at Peter while she asks. 
“You don’t trust Peter in the kitchen?” 
You’re doing your best to ignore Peter’s eyes on the side of your face, you’re trying to pretend you’re not being vulnerable. 
“He’s the only person who could burn it all down.” 
May clicks her tongue, she’s more focused on cutting up her dinner. “For what it’s worth, as Peter’s aunt, he’s a great chef. He takes his time in the kitchen, he doesn’t mind waiting for the yeast to bloom. Because when the dough is ready, he’s really gentle at scooping it up and helping it turn into whatever it needs to be.” 
You turn to Peter, he gives a shy smile. “You’re not scared of burning yourself?” 
A shrug, “It’s a precaution you take each time you cook, but from what I’ve learned, burns heal.” 
“Scars don’t.” 
Peter tilts his head, “they fade over time, don’t they?” 
May speaks up, she’s looking right at you. It goes past the depth of high school love, it goes to the deepest mark one could leave on a heart. A lover lost too soon. 
“They do.” 
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WEEK FOUR
Peter Parker has been on your mind for four days, (and nights,) straight. Each morning you wake at 3:02 and hear his muffled metronome. You’ve gotten avoiding him down to a T. The first morning you woke up early to watch him leave, then planned a ten minute window in case he was running late one day, and left around that. 
You’ve been successful so far. But there was an underlying tug that wanted to be caught, you wanted him to hold you close to him and tell you that he wasn’t going anywhere and nothing safe is worth the risk. 
Is that why you let yourself be caught by him this morning? 
“Good morning,” it was shot over his shoulder while he locked the door. You grumbled out to him, Peter doesn’t mind you didn’t use words, you were directing expression towards him and that’s enough. “Wanna walk together?” 
The idea sends flutters to the middle of your stomach, a brief image of his hand in yours while your hip bumps against his every so often and you laugh at whatever he tells you takes over your mind. “If you want to walk near me while we go to the same location, that’s on you.” 
Peter’s hot on your heels down the steps, “that’s a total yes.” You ignore him and try to subtly shut the main door on him, it doesn’t work. “How have you been?” Walking faster, you hope he catches the hint. Peter matches pace perfectly- damn him and his puberty bus and his big strides.
“Personally, I have been mourning the loss of my favorite neighbor coming over.” Peter blinks at the side of your face while carrying a grin. “I mean you, by the way. In case you needed that hint.” 
“Got it. Thanks.” You know you need to pick a side, but something in you won’t let you ignore him. 
“Welcome. You know, if you’re free, you’re invited for dinner tonight.” You pout sarcastically, “tell May I’ll miss her presence.” Peter bumps your arm, you feel like dropping to your knees. “She keeps asking about you, I’m running out of excuses.” 
You scoff, “excuse what? You can tell her the truth, penis.” Peter almost loses you when you swerve around a stranger’s shoulder, in one second he’s next to you again. “And what would the truth be?” 
“You pushed yourself onto me,” you stare at Peter in shock when your wrist was grabbed tightly, you came to a stop on the sidewalk with him. He maneuvered to stand in front of you, noticing every inch he had on you; it seemed like his playful mood vanished. 
“Hey, I was just messing with you, okay? I thought you just didn’t want to talk about it, but pushing myself on you is the last thing I want you to think I did. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m really sorry.” 
Your features softened, your words sent him into a shame spiral. It was annoying how upset he looked with himself, even if you had to swear him off forever, you didn’t want him to think he sexually harassed you.
“I was kidding, Peter. I don’t think you pushed yourself onto me, you gave me the option to back out and I pulled you in. I’d just rather never speak or think about it ever again.” 
A weary smile, “that bad, huh?” You pulled your coat tighter around your chest, the cold making the tip of your nose numb. “Quite the opposite, really.” Before you could fall into temptation and kiss him in the middle of the city, you pulled away to keep heading towards school. 
“Can I ask what that means?” You nod, “sure.” You offer up no more explanation. 
“Well?” You look at him for a second, “oh, sorry. You can ask all you want, doesn’t mean I’ll tell you.” 
“You’re gonna inflate my ego, you’re telling me it was so good you can’t put it into words.” 
You give him a side eye, “I wasn’t aware there would be so much talking when I allowed you to walk next to me.” 
“That’s not denial…” His cadence was sing-songy. 
“You’re in denial.” 
Peter shook his head confidently, “I’m not in denial, I am very okay with the fact I like you.” 
You came to a halt. He’s not allowed to feel this way, he doesn’t know what it could bring. Has he not seen what love can do to a person? Has he not watched you crumble into a thousand pieces over and over throughout the weeks? 
And why did his confession turn every piece of rubble into stained glass? 
Peter’s not allowed to like you because reciprocation leads to temptation which bleeds into dating where it comes to a crashing end in heartbreak. 
You tried to put on a serious face, but you know Peter sees the mask. “Don’t.” Pointing a finger at his chest, “don’t say that, don’t think that, and sure as shit don’t act on it.” 
Peter must think you’re joking because he pushes your hand down before lightly laughing. “Don’t act on it? I already did.” Is that what he did? Did he plan that moment? You thought it was a spur of the moment thing, but maybe he’s been planning it for weeks. 
How long has he liked you? 
It doesn’t matter. You’ll be the adult and end it before it can start, he doesn’t know what this can do to a person. You can do it nicely, or at least try. Maybe he’d find it more sincere if it comes from the heart. 
“Peter, have you ever had your heart broken? Like, really broken? Because I wouldn’t put that on my worst enemy. It’s a type of emotional pain that turns physical, I mean, have you ever been so heartbroken you throw up? Have you ever been so sad you don’t eat for days? Have you ever cried so hard you almost fainted? It’s shit, Peter.” 
“But was it worth it?” 
Did he not hear anything you just said? “What does that mean?” 
Peter adjusts the strap of his backpack, “you loved him, right?” You don’t need to give an answer, he already knows it. “Do you regret it? Even with the heartbreak, did that undo all the good that came out of it all?” 
You lick your bottom lip, it’s been a circulating thought. Love opened up doors you didn’t know were closed, in the end it was a beautiful tragedy. But that’s the worst part, with Peter you don’t know what it would feel like. You’ve only had a glimpse and it tells you that it’s something that’s going to change you forever. 
If Peter leaves, if Peter cheats, it’ll kill you, it’d be nothing like when he did it and you can’t take the gamble. 
It was worth it with him, he made you grow. With Peter you’d take ten steps back and never be the same. 
“There isn’t always a silver lining, Peter.” You refuse to answer. 
“So, what, you’re never going to fall in love again?” Peter’s matching your pace again, you can’t wait until you’re in the four safe walls of Midtown. 
“No, I just can’t fall in love with you.” 
“Can’t is a funny word choice.” 
“Won’t.” You exhale sharply, “I won’t fall in love with you.” 
Peter has no interest in your claim, “it’d be easier if you just said you didn’t like me, but you’re not.” 
You don’t have to answer, you can choose to ignore him entirely and you’ll be doing just that. 
“I don’t like this conversation anymore and I’m ending it.” It works, only for twenty seconds, but it worked until Peter thinks he has a brilliant idea. 
“Break up with me.” 
Your steps slow, his did the same. Peter’s hands were tucked in his jacket pockets, the urge to kiss him breathless unmeasurable. You fight past it, “huh?” 
“You said I don’t know real heartache, so I want you to break up with me. Right here.” He’s entirely way too amused for you, even the idea makes you feel sick. 
“I’m not going to break up with you, Peter. I can’t get another tardy slip.” You keep walking, Peter hopped to keep up. “Ten seconds, just end it.” 
“No.” 
“C’mon, it’ll be easy. Dump me and break my heart.” 
“We’re not dating. I can’t dump you, even if I wanted to.” What happened to ending the conversation? 
You hear the smirk when he speaks. “If.”
“I’m not playing your word games, Peter.” Because you’re not. 
A laugh, “then break up with me.” 
You thought he was supposed to be smart. How has he not gotten any of this, does he think it’s a joke, does he think you’re playing? Peter has no idea what this means, but you do. 
Tugging at his elbow, you stop him in his tracks. Staring into his eyes and daring yourself not to get lost, you try to make things extremely clear. “I can’t break up with you, Peter. I barely made it through him. I wouldn’t know how to handle losing you. You’d hurt me too bad and I can’t take that risk.” 
Peter’s voice is soft when he answers, you want to close your eyes and have it carry you to heaven. “I can’t break up with you either. You’d be able to hurt me just as bad.” It takes you from your trance, “you would. Because I’m a bad girlfriend. If I wasn’t he wouldn’t have replaced me before he could end it.” 
Peter’s eyebrows pull together, you stuff your hands into your coat pockets to keep from smoothing them out. “Hey, woah, let’s pause there. You did nothing wrong. Even if you were a bad girlfriend, and trust me, you weren’t, that would never justify him doing that to you. Nothing could.” 
It’s nice of him, but he doesn’t know that. “We didn’t talk, you don’t know I wasn’t a bad girlfriend.” Peter scoffs, like the idea of you calling yourself a bad girlfriend offends him personally. “He made you cry all the time,” the words followed by your name. “Bad girlfriends don’t cry, bad boyfriends make their good girlfriends cry.” 
Peter heard you. Every time you cried, every time you felt unloved, every time you sobbed out an ‘I’m sorry’ for something you didn’t know you did. He listened, Peter listened like you did each night. How did you never notice the universal gimmick?
If you think back, most of the bad moments were at the hands of him. And for Peter to notice when you were worlds away from his person, makes your heart wrench inside your chest. You know you already drew the line and there’s no crossing it, but it’s nice living in a moment make believe. 
“You’d never be able to call me babe.” It was a shitty pet name. You never liked it. 
You get flashed with a toothy grin. “That’s okay, I have a million to choose from.” 
Or the obvious hang up, “May would totally hate me too, she knows I’ll take your virginity.” Peter waves you off, “we don’t know that.” You quirk an eyebrow, “we don’t?” Peter corrects himself, “she doesn’t have to know that.” 
You chuckle from the back of your throat. “But she will. You wouldn’t be able to hide it. I definitely wouldn’t be able to hide it.” Peter looks down for a second, you follow his gaze, you wonder if you’re both zoned in on a black skid on the side of his shoe. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 
“I don’t know. It’s like, you just get a lot more… touchy, I guess. Nothing’s off limits anymore.” 
A monotone reply, “yeah, that sounds like a total nightmare.” 
It gets too real. Make believe time is over, now you have to be an adult and stick to your guns. 
“It wouldn’t work between us, Peter.”
You feel sad, there’s no good answer and both of you would be left with a bruise. He wanted more than you’d let yourself give and you wanted more than you’d let yourself have. Peter was right, you could hurt him just as bad, and you’d never forgive yourself. 
Peter made himself a constant, someone you could really rely on the last few weeks, and if you lose that you don’t know how you’d ever be okay again. 
“If you think so.” His kind smile doesn’t meet his eyes. It’s a quiet journey the rest of the way, both of you receiving a tardy slip and parting ways in the hall without a word or glance.
Peter Parker had gotten his wish. You just broke his heart. 
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This was all Natalie Greene’s fault. If she wasn’t stuck states away at a funeral she would’ve held you accountable and used every means necessary to stop you from going to Peter’s. 
It could also be Peter’s fault. He should’ve never kissed you like he did, he should’ve never made your heart beat with purpose and left a sear where he touched. Doesn’t he know you could never forget it? 
It also didn’t help that you were drunk. Not drunk enough to be slamming into walls and slurring words, but enough to stop that part in your brain to hold you back from the things you truly wanted. Like your neighbor. 
It had been three days of nothing and that wasn’t Peter’s choice. He respected your decisions too much. If you didn’t want him in your life, he wouldn’t be. Doesn’t he know that just makes you want him more? 
Peter wasn’t at the party, you didn’t expect him to be, but you were a little hopeful he’d surprise you and show up. He didn’t. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t on your mind with each shot you took, or when you stopped for pizza with a group of friends, when everyone teased you for pineapple but you knew Peter wouldn’t. 
You grabbed him a slice of pepperoni without thinking. Or maybe you were. It was an excuse to talk to him, to see him, to touch him. You could take it home and reheat it in the morning, or you could lean into your excuse of a few too many and knock on his door. 
It’s Peter’s fault. He really shouldn’t have kissed you like that, he doesn’t understand his power. 
Harsh banging. It’s over your head how late it is, you have important things to do. Like, lay over his body in his bed like you kiss down his neck, or squirm with harsh whimpers when he kisses down yours. You bet he likes to cuddle too, he never did, but Peter seems like he couldn’t get enough of you. 
If you couldn’t date Peter you could use him as a rebound, right?
Faster knocking, why isn’t he answering? At your loudest, the door opens. He was sleeping, you could tell by the puffy eyes but you didn’t look at his face too long, no, Peter was in nothing but a pair of boxers. 
When the fuck did he get so toned? You would’ve reached out for a light graze, but he stopped you. 
“You’re so lucky May’s on overnight duty.” No, you’re lucky because he’s half naked and sleepy, you’ve never seen anyone so tempting. It feels like you’re dying and only he could save you. 
You can’t help it, your palm connects with his chest, it’s there longer than a second. It’s less about pushing him aside and more about touching him, and he knows that. Peter talks at a normal volume for the hour, “what are you doing here?” 
Your thumb traces his collarbones, “I brought you pizza.” Your breath skips when he turns his head to the side to check the time on the microwave in the kitchen, his jawline ultra toned. 
“At one in the morning?” Peter’s amused, you don’t think he would’ve ever been so kind if you disrupted his sleep. You nod, “I was thinking of you.” You raise the small box, just as proof as you really did get him a slice. 
Peter takes it with a smile. “Thanks, kid.” You don’t know why, but you really like that one. 
“Can I come in?” If he thought all you wanted was to share a midnight snack, he was terribly mistaken. The door widened in response, you made sure to brush against his side, he said nothing.  
Following him into the kitchen, you have a flashback. It’s one you want to reenact, maybe if you sit in the same spot he’ll catch the drift. A blue wave of light washes over him when his snack is stored for morning, he looks angelic. 
You don’t think you’ve ever been this fascinated with him. 
“Now I understand all the song references about refrigerator lights.” Peter looks over his shoulder, his grin makes you feel like you’re flying. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He emerges with two water bottles, cracking the lid on yours and passing it over. His rests on the counter. He doesn’t need water but you do and he’s not about to make you feel singled out. 
You think it might be too late. You think you might already be falling. 
“I don’t know, but I just get it.” He’s letting you do all the talking, it’s odd, you’re not used to being listened to. If Peter realizes what you’re doing, he says nothing. Maybe you just have to point it out. 
You gesture to yourself, the real reason you came over finally announced. 
“Do you see where I’m sitting?” 
Peter nods, “I do.” 
Your fingers tap on the countertop, “remember the last time I sat here?” Peter breathes deep, you wonder if he’s thinking about it right now. “I do.” 
You wait. He makes no move. Where’s your kiss?
“Well? Are you gonna do it again?” You pucker for good measure, just in case there was an inkling of uncertainty on his end. You’re making it clear what you want. A faulty smile, you don’t like it one bit. 
“No,” at least he sounds sorry about it. But he likes you, he told you himself, why would he deny you? Doesn’t he know how much you need this? 
“Why not? If you think this is a trick, it’s not. If you want, I’ll kiss you first.” You jump down but you’re held back by a hand, he’s literally pushing you away. It’s a feeling that causes a tug, you really don’t like it. 
“You’re drunk,” Peter follows the statement with your name, he’s not mean but he’s also not going to change his mind. 
You scoff, buzzed would be more accurate. “I’m not drunk.”
“Drunk enough you’re allowing yourself to have this conversation.” 
He has a very fair point. 
“Liquid courage, kiss me?” Peter shakes his head, “you made it clear nothing would happen, so nothing is going to happen.” 
You grin, “consider it practice then.” Your words make him frown, “you don’t want this.” Who is he to tell you what you do or don’t want? 
“How do you know I don’t want this?” 
“Because this isn’t you.” 
You feel a tightness in your chest, he doesn’t get to think he knows you more than you do. “You don’t know me, Peter. You just have an idea of me.” 
“You’re hurt and confused. I won’t take advantage of that, being mad at me won’t make me change my mind.” 
Where was his care coming from? He didn’t care about you this much and neither should Peter. It wasn’t normal, was it? But it’s also not fair to compare Peter to him at every chance, especially because Peter only ever seems to outshine. 
“Why didn't you act like this a year ago?” If he truly cares, where was it before?
“You mean when you had a boyfriend?” 
Is that why he waited until now to be a friend? Did he think you’d be sad and have weak defense, making it easy for him to get first in line? “Is that what it is? You waited until I was dumped to put on this act and lay it on me while I’m all confused? How long have you had this planned out?” 
Your words are like daggers, the things you’re alluding to, he would never do them. Ever. 
“Don’t. I’ve always liked you but you had a boyfriend and the last thing on my mind was trying to get with you when it ended. You were so miserable, I just wanted to be a friend or something, but it changed and maybe a little piece of it was me being selfish. I made the first move, several times. I kissed you, I asked you out, I told you I liked you. And you said no. I respect your no, why don’t you?” 
You could tell him the truth, tell him that he was right and his love terrified you because you haven’t felt something so raw before in your entire life. Peter wasn’t yours, or anywhere close to it. It shouldn’t be natural to feel magnetized to him. 
You could tell him the truth, but you’re better at hiding behind false walls. 
“I liked you better when you didn’t care about me.” 
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” 
He knows you’re lying but he won’t make you admit it, no, he’ll push you into your corner of lies until you force your way out with the truth. Peter Parker will not chase you. 
Would it be wrong to push him so far away he wouldn’t let you chase him too? 
“You have a superiority complex. That’s why you can’t find a girlfriend, or any friend really. You think you’re better than everyone else and it’s a natural repellent.” You back up towards the door, you spit words as they come to your mind. 
“I was willing to do it. I was willing to give you a shot but you ruined it for yourself. You’re going to look back on this moment and regret it.” 
Peter really doesn’t care for your dramatics. It’s impressive he can one, handle it and two, make you check yourself. “Regret not taking advantage of a drunk girl? Is that what you’re insinuating?” 
“No! I just meant that… I don’t know what I mean, Peter! I don’t know anything and you’re not helping in the slightest and everything about you makes me want to fucking cry or scream or, or… I don’t know.” Your voice trails, it’s the most honest you’ve been in weeks. 
“I don’t know anything anymore, Peter.” 
Everything you’ve ever thought about love has been wrong.
He made you feel flightless. But Peter, Peter made you feel free. Peter made you feel like you were flying at full speed, like the wind washes over your cheeks so harshly you’re in a permanent grin. You’ve never seen the world from this high up, in this much color, it’s never been so beautiful. 
The flight is amazing, thinking about stopping it hurts you. How would it feel to be on the ground again, to walk around, to be without wings and treetops and colors and wind? How would it feel to be without Peter? 
Would it feel like an agonizing death? 
Would your wings ever be patchable again? 
Questions that make you realize the closer you get to him, the harder you’ll hit the ground. You’re okay with falling, you’re able to brace yourself the best way you can. But will Peter be there to catch your landing? 
It looks like he’s trying to stop himself from hugging you, it’s a good thing he is. He might be thinking you’d yell or push him away, you think you’d just cry. 
Peter looks tired, and more than just because you woke him up. You wonder if it’s because he’s up late every other night, you want to ask him about the routine and why he broke it tonight. You won’t. 
Your back hits the door, there was only one thing you were sure of, it had been a chain reaction since. This was Peter’s fault, he’s the one that kissed you. He started it. 
“You shouldn't have kissed me, you really, really shouldn’t have. You’ve fucked this all up, penis.” 
Peter’s tired of the blame. “You came here,” he ends it with your name, like he’s pleading. 
It’s annoying, at least you tell yourself it is. If you can replace feelings with antonyms you’ll trick your brain and you’ll be right on track to hating him again and only seeing him as a void object. 
You open the door, it’s the last time you’ll allow yourself to look at his face.
It’s Peter’s fault. 
“Because you made me want to.” 
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WEEK FIVE. 
It’s way too early for the hysteric buzz of a mosquito in your ear, yet, it still sings to you while you’re locking your front door.
“Good morning.” 
You nod your head, “penis.” 
And just like that, the mosquito’s squashed. 
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You yawn so harshly that you rub at your jaw. You’re unable to sleep and miserable. You’ve tried everything under the moon and stars, nothing worked. Staring up at the ceiling you tried to count sheep but they kept turning into the tiny freckles that dotted over Peter’s cheeks. 
It wasn’t fair to keep thinking about him, you’re doing your part. You cut him out and you decided to hate him. You’re just finding out that that’s not how it works. 
3:02, you hear his window. 
3:04, your eyes finally get heavy. 
3:07, you’re dozing off. 
3:10, you’re asleep. 
It wasn’t fair. 
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Three nights later, It’s 3:02 in the morning and a window slams shut. This time, it isn’t your neighbors. This time, it was your own. You should be scared, but you don’t feel threatened, you’re curious. You pull your head from under your pillow. 
Spider-Man is at the foot of your bed, his shoulder hits the window frame when he pulls his mask off. He’s racing for air, he looks beat up, a gash crossed over his chest. 
If you didn’t have as much distain as you did, you’d be slightly shocked. 
“If you get blood on my carpet, I will fucking kill you.” 
Peter must be dizzy, because he’s imagining you in his room.
"Seriously, if you get blood on my carpet I'll have you come over tomorrow and scrub it out with your toothbrush."
Peter tries to swallow, it's hard to do. His head feels like a brick, his hands won't stop shaking.
“Hey, pesky pete, I mean it. Get the fuck outta here.”
When he holds his eyes close, then opens them, he still sees you there. Peter looks down at his hands, turning them back and forth. They go in and out of focus, it’s dizzying, at one point he has five hands. 
He says your name questioningly, it’s hard to get words off his tongue, his brain is moving too slow. “Yup, that’s me. Now get out.” Peter touches his chest, it’s beet red. His shoulder is killing him, he stumbles and slams into the wall- now you’re sitting up in bed. 
“Peter, are you okay?” It’s pure worry, the act is dropped for a second, he’s not normal. He’s not answering, you think he’s trying but he can’t bring himself to speak, he’s lagging in real time. One foot hits the floor, the rest of you perched in your bed keeping an eye on his frame.
“Peter.” You need his focus on you.
He presses his hand to his wound, a last ditch effort to protect your carpet. Then, he hits the floor. You jump up, “Peter? Peter, are you okay? Peter,” he’s passed out and tore up to shreds. Every bit of you wants to scoop him into your lap and hold him tight, but instead, you get to work. 
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Peter flies up from the bed gasping for air, his face is cold and wet. The source is your twisted grin above him, a water glass held tightly. 
“Oh, good. You’re up.”
Peter pats his chest, a blur of last night follows. He sits up in a haste, a tug in his side makes him cradle it, you both wince at the same time. 
“Yeah, I tried doing the best I could, but I wasn’t sure if there was something under that.. Or how to take it off. You probably have significant damage.” 
“Thanks.” His mouth is dry and his voice crackly, it sends a zing up your spine. Peter’s never felt so weak after a rough night, his head is pounding and he can feel the crunch of dried blood under his suit. 
“Can I get some of that or are you still punishing me?” The only reason you give him the rest of the glass is because you like Spider-Man. He has a job to do, Peter on the other hand, could die of thirst. 
“You passed out on me last night.” 
Peter chugs the glass, you almost think about getting him another. “I did.” 
You nod, “I had to lug you up here, you’re extremely heavy when you’re dead weight.” He almost smiles at the imagery, instead he glances down and realizes you did your best attempt at working on the gashes over his chest and arms through the spandex. 
Even as he was passed out and rendered useless. You must not hate him as much as you say. It's still nice to know he's not getting special treatment because of who he is, not even Spider-Man could make you like Peter.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have excellent bedside manner?” 
“Oh no, anything I could do to make it worse?” 
“I think another water and some advil might kill me.” 
“Perfect, coming right up.” 
Peter takes another ten minutes before trying to sit up, “I should go home and shower.” Your hand gently pushes his shoulder back down, “easy, tiger. May isn’t home and you’re not about to turn your shower into a personal slip and slide.” 
Before you could regret the words, “if you want a shower, you’re doing it here.” He paused under your touch, scared you made the wrong impression, your eyes widened. “Not with me or anything, I just meant so you’d have someone around.” 
Peter doesn’t care how it has to get done, he wants the suit and dried blood off him. He nods his head and sits up a little slower before tugging at his neckline. You look away for a minute, unsure where to settle your eyes. 
“Help me get my arm out?” Your hands pull at the suit, his arm escapes, it’s covered in small knicks. It’s a subconscious move, you gently tap the cuts with your thumb. Peering into his eyes you hold a frown. 
“Does it hurt?” 
Peter feels like you might kiss his marks. “Not really, it’s mostly my side.” 
You rub his chest, “you got a gash right here.” It’s over his heart. 
“Guess we’re twinsies now.” 
If he wasn’t in pain, you’d slap his arm for the comment. Instead, you watch him carefully remove the red and blue until he’s left in his boxers. You do your best to keep your eyes on his face, Peter looks amused. 
“You’re trying really hard not to look at me.” 
“Don’t flatter yourself, Parker.” You offer a hand to pull him up, he accepts. A slow stand, his back’s more defined than his front, you almost bite your fist. Peter has the same shower as you, but you still explain how to use it. And allow him to use your products. 
“Got it.” The tap is turned on, the water hits against the ceramic. You make no effort to move, instead watching for a moment. Peter’s fingers pull at the waistline of his briefs, your eyes dart right to them. 
“You know, this is the part where most people leave.” It’s teasing. 
“I just wanted to make sure you got in okay, it’s a high step.” It’s a quarter of the truth. 
“I’ll be alright, I’ve been doing this alone for a few years.” Peter says it like it’s an inside joke, but it just makes you feel sad. He’s never had someone to be there for him, or patch up his wounds, or make sure he’s okay to shower. You wonder how many times he’s passed out on his bedroom floor with no one to drag him to bed. 
“You okay?” A hand on your skin wakes you back up, clearing your mind of Peter. 
You nod, it was a flash of empathy. You couldn’t imagine what it’s like for him. 
“I’m just sorry you’ve had to do it all alone. It doesn’t seem fair, Spider-Man does nothing but take care of other people. He should have someone to take care of him for a change.” 
It may sound like you’re insinuating, especially the way he looks at you when he responds. 
“Yeah. That’d be nice.” 
Seconds tick, it’s getting a little weird, mostly because you want to tackle him into the shower and race your mouth over every inch of skin. You clear your throat, “you want me to get you anything from your place?”
“Sure. Go shopping for me.” 
You use the copied key May left for you several years ago when you tended to some plants while her and Peter went on vacation, and it feels weird being in their home alone. It’s too quiet, the Parker’s are expressive in everything they do, when they're not around everything lacks passion. 
Peter’s bedroom is almost the same as it was the last time you were in it, the same furniture but moved around. His posters looked updated and there’s a few extra awards he’s tucked away, you frown, he should be proud of his achievements and hang them high. 
A new picture of him and May from last year, you ignore the part of your brain that says he has very kissable cheeks. His closet is clean and he’s made it easy for you to search around, each drawer is dedicated to a different clothing and everything that should be hung up, is. 
It’s something you hadn’t considered, but a man taking care of his laundry creates an entire new standard. 
Peter handed over the control when you said to get what you wanted, that means you can dress him how you please. And wouldn’t he look yummy in sweatpants and a white shirt? You don’t see how he couldn’t, it’s the male version of a sundress. 
Arms full of cotton, you tap at the bathroom door with your foot. You shout over the water, “I have your clothes.” It’s muffled but you hear him and gently push the door open, a faint outline on the shower curtain suddenly makes you shy. 
“They’re right here,” patting the clothes for good measure. Peter shoots out a ‘thanks!’ and you slowly back out until you’re sitting patiently on your bed, listening closely when the tap turns off. If he goes falling, you’re busting the door down. 
No struggles, at least not until he emerges. Peter’s fine, but you’re speechless and choked. There was no one you punished but yourself with the outfit, the t-shirt is tight on his arms and the sweatpants hug his hips just right. 
“I feel human again, thanks, kid.” You turn on manual breathing mode and distantly nod, his biceps are stretching the cotton, you lick your lips subconsciously. “No problem.” You watch a water droplet fall from his hair to his shoulder, your eyes stay hooked in place, his arms flexed when he dried it with the towel you lended him. 
“Where should I put this?” You point to your hamper, if he put it anywhere else you’d be half tempted to sniff it. “Did you tell May I was here?” You nod and finally find strength to talk to him, “yeah. I sent her a text last night, I wasn’t sure of her Spider-Man knowledge so it was a little cryptic.” You take a breath and choose honesty, no doubt he’d get a third degree. 
“I think she interpreted it as us hooking up.” Another breath, “I did not correct her.” 
Peter has a boyish smile spread, it squeezes your chest, you want him in your hold more than anything. “Nice.” You scream and cheer and thank your lucky stars when he sits next to you. He used your products, but he still smells like Peter. You want to stuff your nose into his shirt and breathe him in until you physically can’t. 
“May knows, by the way.” You nod absentmindedly, “anyone else?” “A couple friends.” You almost make a quip like ‘wow, you have friends?’ but you really can’t find it in you to pretend to hate him anymore. Especially when he almost died on your floor and all you wanted to do was tell him that you were sorry and you were mostly in love with him. 
“Can I ask a question?” 
“Shoot.” 
“Do the webs come out of you?” Peter lightly laughs, it’s always the same question off the bat. “No. I make a special web fluid and I have these bracelet kind of things to shoot them out.” 
“Oh. Cool.” You’re hiding the burn in your lower stomach at the thought of him over his desk creating a new form of technology. He’s so fucking smart it’s unfair, he’s too smart for his own good. 
He’s grinning at you, “is it?” You can’t stop staring at his mouth, “yeah.” You’d do anything to kiss him again, the last time you truly felt alive was when his lips were on yours. “Any other questions?” There’s one. But it’s not about Spider-Man. 
“Not really.” Your interest could be explored later, right now, all you needed was him. Peter finds it surprising, “I think you are the least curious person to find out about this.” You shrug, shifting your body more towards him. Peter rejected you last time but if you move like he did when he kissed you, if you move in slow for the kill, you might just get your way. 
“Give me the cliff notes.” Peter starts ticking them off with his fingers, while he’s distracted you move in closer. “Bit by a radioactive spider when I was fifteen. Heightened senses plus a cool sixth sense where I can sense danger. Super strength-” You stop listening right there, your eyes are all over his build, no fucking wonder he’s a contender for worlds fittest man. 
You shuffle in, your knee brushes his thigh, if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. You thank the sweatpants, the material too thick to give you away. “-Oh, and I stopped needing my glasses which is pretty cool. I think that’s pretty much it, but if you want me to expand on anyth…”
 Now or never.
You push up and straddle Peter’s waist, his hands immediately hold your hips. You lean down, his grip tightens. Peter mumbles out your name, you answer with a slow kiss. Your fingers drag through his hair, curls wrap themselves around your fingers, you hold them tight. When Peter licks your bottom lip, when Peter takes control, you need to feel every bit of him. 
Your hands fall down his neck and over his shoulders, then they fall to his arms, your nails lightly drag up the skin. A hum from Peter, your lower stomach clenches, you answer with a roll of your hips, he sighs into your mouth. You drag your palms over his chest, his heart is at the same pace as yours. 
You break the kiss, both of you breathing fast, it doesn’t last. You kiss over his jawline, you can’t hold it in, you can’t fucking stop yourself. “You’re so fucking hot,” wet marks are dotted down his neck. “I wanna take you right here, I wanna make you feel so good.” Another grind, this time, Peter moves with you, it pulls a moan from the back of your throat. The favor returned with a hickey at the bottom of his neck, it sent him falling into your hold. 
You’re kissing anywhere you can reach, “you gotta stop,” it comes out in a puff. “You’re killing me here.” Too bad, not so sad, you’re latched onto his mouth again, this time, you tug at the bottom of his shirt, it takes three times before you realize he’s not catching the hint and you pull it up yourself. 
You study him when it goes flying, his eyes are more pupil than brown, his lips pouty and pulling a red hue. “Lay back,” he does, you lean over him, you’re marking up his collarbones while his hand has a fistful of your hair. Then… the kisses get lower, you're grazing over his chest, delicate brushes across the semi-healed cuts, you must’ve blocked out the advanced healing perk. 
Your hand trails over his side, you soak in the grooves and muscle, your fingers brushing against the waistband of his sweatpants. Peter’s breathing hitches, you keep teasing, then bring your lower body into play. Bumps and grinds have Peter panting in your mouth, you pull back, even as he’s heaving for air, Peter’s trying to follow your kiss. 
Your fingers slip further under the elastic, holding his gaze when you tell him about your intentions. “I wanna suck you off.”
There’s a pause, then he sits up on his elbows. 
“Does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?” Does it? You don’t think so. You just want him, you want his mouth and his hands and his body intertwined with yours. But to fall into him and have him see all your worst parts, to have him hold your heart between his hands and trust he’d take care of it is too much. 
“No.” 
He’s sad. It’s not just something you think, it’s something you know. Your heart tumbles with his face. You want to hug him, you try, but he tossed you off his lap like nothing. 
“May told me to get groceries today, so I should probably head out.” You swallow tightly, you’re not liking how this is sounding. “Are you mad at me?” You feel nothing but shame at his sigh, it’s debilitating when you hear his cutthroat tone. “I’m not a fucking rebound.” But he wanted to be. He wanted this. He wanted you. 
Peter doesn’t use the f word, not ever.
“Whether I’m your girlfriend or sucking your dick, you’d still be a rebound.” Silence rings around the room. Peter’s voice is tight when he answers you. 
“Is that all you think of me? Just a rebound?” 
You don’t know how to be honest with him. You never have. “Would I be wrong?” 
“Very.” It’s clipped. You’ve never heard Peter with an edge and you don’t like it. You really don’t like being on the other side of his frustration. He’s only ever been soft and kind with you, you can’t handle any more change in your life. You need Peter to keep being Peter. 
You were so scared of losing him you went and filled his head up with words of affirmation, used your mouth on him, then turned around and shut him down. If this is only a fraction of how it stings when Peter’s upset you don’t know if you could handle more. You’ve never felt Peter’s cold shoulder before and it hurts.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” It’s bullshit, Peter can sense it too. “You did.” You chew on your bottom lip, “I did, but not like that.” Peter seems taller than normal when he’s standing over you, you can’t look him in the face, it’s nothing but being mortified. You really put your foot in your mouth. 
“Do you even like me or are you just horny?” You can’t allow yourself to answer him. 
“I’m an idiot.” Your face turns in, Peter’s laughing at himself. “I’m such an idiot. I really thought you liked me. I thought you were trying to fight it but no, that was just me daydreaming.” You’re looking up at him but he’s already standing at the door with his shirt on and suit tucked under his arm. 
“You don’t like me. You never did and now I’m trying to make pieces fit where they don’t.” He’s staring right into your eyes, he says it louder, he’s saying it for himself. “I’m not a rebound.” 
“You’ve never been properly loved and it shows.” 
And that’s the most brutal thing he could’ve ever said to you. Your lower lip trembles with the tears pricking at your eyes, he started it and you can’t stop it. 
“I fucking hate you. I hate you so fucking much, Peter.” 
No surprises there. “Yeah, I know.” He sounds just as defeated. 
When he leaves you cry harder for Peter than you ever did him, and that says something. But you’re not listening. 
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WEEK SIX.
You finally broke down and told everything to Natalie Greene. She held you in her arms while you cried about losing what you could’ve had. “I’m sure he’ll come around babe, he likes you a lot.” You shake your head, “not anymore. He hasn’t answered any of my texts in three days.” 
You can at least give yourself the benefit of trying to do damage control. He wouldn’t let you. You’d sent a flurry of texts, each one more apologetic than the next, begging him for a chance to see you but he refused. 
You think you broke him. 
“Have you tried talking to him? In person?” You shake your head, he doesn’t want to talk to you. You blew everything up and for the first time you really hate it. Two weeks ago you were begging for this but now you just feel terrible. 
“Nat, this is nothing like what I had with him and I don’t know what that means.” Your friend hugged you close, “it means you love him more than you ever did him.” You swallow hard, you knew the truth but it was different hearing it. 
It doesn’t matter anymore. You ruined it and Peter won’t talk to you anymore. 
“You should’ve seen the look on his face, Nat. He was fucking crushed. It’s like…” You take in a sharp breath, you’ve been beating yourself up over it since he walked out. “It’s like I used him.” Natalie Greene doesn’t bullshit but she’s still soft as ever with her response, it’s purred out while her acrylics scratch your back. “You did.” 
She’s your best friend. She should be on your side. “But I didn’t! I just-”
“Yeah, you did. You knew how he felt about you and you said no so he stopped trying. Then you showed up drunk and threw yourself at him, he said no and you got all butthurt. Then he comes over and somehow passes out on your floor and you offer him a blowjob.” 
Well, when she puts it like that… 
“Of course he’s going to think you flipped your script, you’re the one who kept pushing after you told him no.” Peter’s words echo in your mind, ‘I respect your no, so why don’t you?’ Because you can’t allow yourself to have him, that’s why. But… you already do, don’t you? Or, you did. 
“He’s gonna wreck me, Nat. He already is.” 
“Because you’re fighting it. I get it, babe, I’ve been where you are a dozen times. But you don’t get over heartbreak by hiding from love. I know it’s Peter Parker and he’s been your enemy since you were eight, but no matter how fast you try to run, he’s right there matching your stride.” 
You sniff into her arm, she smells like lavender and it makes you snuggle further. “I think I’ve always liked him.” You could finally admit it. Natalie’s been there for months, years possibly. “I know. You always talk about him.” 
You scrunch your eyebrows, “no I don’t.” Natalie thinks you must’ve said a funny joke because she’s laughing like it. “Yeah you do. Sure, it might have been mean things but if you truly hate someone you don’t notice everything they do.” 
You noticed everything about Peter and made sure to fill Natalie Greene in on the gossip. 
Like when he cut his hair way too short in middle school and his curls disappeared for months. 
When he slipped in mashed potatoes in the cafeteria and fumbled until he could steady himself. 
When his cheeks flamed pink because he forgot to silence his phone during a test and the Game of Thrones theme song blasted through the room as he awkwardly tried to silence the call. 
Then there’s the time he stuttered when giving an answer in biology because Lindsey Snipes was twirling her hair at him. A small tug in your stomach, the answer suddenly clear to why you’ve always hated her too. 
And when he bumped a friend's coke all over his notebook and he just watched with an open mouth while all his hard work was ruined. 
When he stumbled up the steps. 
When he hit his head with his locker.
When he stepped on his glasses. 
When he was tackled in flag football. 
When he tripped over his shoelace. 
When he got glue in his hair. 
When he winced while dissecting a frog. 
When he cracked his phone because he dropped it and a guy on the football team kicked it clear across the cafeteria while he laughed. That one didn’t make you laugh. That one made you so angry you made a point to tell Kristina, said player's girlfriend, so she could give him a well deserved tongue lashing. And not the good kind. 
When he fell asleep at the library and had a red mark on his cheek to prove it. 
When he spit milk everywhere because the one he grabbed was expired. 
When, no matter what, each time you met his eyes he’d send you a smile. And how each time there was something that made you want to give it back. 
“Natalie,” you can hear it in your voice. It’s dangerous. It’s terrifying. 
It’s worth it. 
“I think I’m in love with Peter Parker.” 
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Natalie Greene and you had carefully conducted Operation: Get Peter Back. 
Step one: Tell him, (IN PERSON) how you feel. 
Step two: See above. 
There were no other steps. Natalie Greene told you that’s all you could do. 
One day later you knocked at his door before you could lose the small amount of courage you had, it’s soft enough you hope it’s unnoticeable, you could quit and say you tried. Your heartbeat’s in the bottom of your throat, your palms itch as you rub them over your shirt. 
A smidge of relief, no one heard you. You’re about to quietly escape, May doesn’t let you off that easily. She’s surprised when your name comes from her mouth, you wonder how much she knows. “Hi, May. Is Peter home?” She’s got a weak poker face, her eyes dart to the side of the door before she’s smiling sweetly. 
“Sorry, honey. He’s out with some friends.” You know he’s right behind the wood. You speak up, you want to be sure he hears you too. “Can I leave you with a message?” May stands straighter, she wasn’t expecting this. “Of course.” 
“Can you tell him I’m sorry? And that I’ve been way too selfish and mean and a complete and utter fucking bitch to him for no good reason for nine years? Can you tell him that he’s the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this and that I really want to say it to his face?” 
May ignores the colorful language and you’re thankful for it. Her eyes trail to the side again, she smiles softly. “I’ll let him know.” There’s no need, he already knows and you both know it. His answer lies in the fact that he’s allowing May to keep up the charade. You don’t know if Peter is bad at forgiveness or just that you don’t deserve it. 
“Thanks, May.” You watch the door slowly close, when there's just a crack left you stop it with a hand. “He’s… He’s okay, right?” Your heart thumped slowly, you’re reading her face like it’s your job, you need to know he’s okay. 
A tight nod. “He’s okay.” You can breathe a little better. “Good.” 
You stare at his door for another two minutes after it shuts. 
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Is this an asshole move? Yes. 
Is this worse than what you’ve already done? Possibly. 
Peter still wasn’t talking to you and you only had one card to pull. He was home, but he wasn’t answering your texts. You think it’s time to fight fire with fire. You’re standing by his apartment door, and loudly talk into your phone. No one’s on the other side, but he doesn’t know that. 
“Hello? Yes, I’m looking for J. Jonah Jameson?” Your eyes twitch to his door, nothing. You speak a little louder. “I understand he’s busy. Well I just… Uh huh, right, I understand, yes ma’am. Is he interested in Spider-Man’s identity?” 
You hear something drop inside his apartment. 
“Yeah, I know who Spider-Man is.” Peter swings the door open, your phone is ripped from your hand. He glares down at the screen, you’re not connected to anyone. “That’s a low move.” You lightly shrug, “did you expect anything more than that?” 
A scoff, “with you? No.” Your lips twitch, you have to fight the frown. You catch his arm when he turns around, there’s no trying, he’s an unstoppable force, you’re moving with him. “I’m sorry! Peter, please! I’m sorry, I am so so sorry and I need you, okay? I need you to not be mad at me.” 
Was that honesty? Were you actually being honest with him? Your shoes squeak when he stops pulling you, you’re looking at him desperately searching his face for emotion. There is none. “You’re not a rebound. Not at all. I should’ve never called you one.” 
There’s a lot you’ve done to Peter you never should’ve done. Maybe it’s time you start owning up to it. 
“I should’ve never said you were a rebound, I shouldn’t have kissed you, I shouldn’t have shown up here drunk, I shouldn’t have kept coming back for more after I told you no. I shouldn’t have ignored you for nine years, I shouldn’t have shut you out when I was eight, I shouldn’t have hurt you.” 
Peter’s not saying anything and you don’t mind. You need to say this, you need him to know. 
“I shouldn’t have hurt you. I meant what I told May. You’re the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this. You’re Peter. You’re nice, you’re warming, you’re always positive and you buy me pizza without making fun of me and you sign off on donation slips and you let me rip your notebooks apart and you bake me things.” 
You blink through your tears. “You were there when I really needed you and you are anything but a fucking rebound to me.” Your chest feels tight, “you’re so good to me, even when I don’t deserve it. I really don’t deserve it now but I really fucking need you, Peter. I know I went on this whole speech thing where Spider-Man needs someone but-” 
“I’m here.” Relief fills you, Peter has you tucked into his chest with his arms around you. “I’m right here, okay?” It’s the selflessness that really gets you. You’ve been nothing but mean and standoffish but Peter’s hugging you because you need it. 
But really, it’s because he knows he was right. You do like him. You like him more than you’re willing to admit to him yet. 
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“Can you catch popcorn with your mouth?” 
Peter tosses a piece up and catches it with his eyes closed. You grumble and throw your own at him, he also catches that with his eyes closed. 
“Okay, turn off the powers and try again.” He laughs at you, “it doesn’t work like that.” You huff, “well, make it.” Peter tosses a piece up and dodges it, it satisfies you. “Ha. Loser normy.” 
“Did you just call me a normy?” 
“You’re just a boring normal person, I hate to tell you, but it’s true.” 
There’s been a brief pause in the actual relationship aspect of your friendship. There’s no more kissing, but you’d really like there to be. You think Peter’s starting to sweat you out and you have no issues with it. If he wants you to make the first move, you’ll do it. 
But it’s all in the timing. 
“Did I ever tell you that six weeks ago Nat said she’d do heroin with me?” Popcorn spills on the couch, Peter’s darting his eyes over your arms looking for track marks. “We didn’t do it! She said that if I still felt miserable after six weeks she’d do it with me.” 
“Miserable? What, about the breakup?” 
“Yeah,” you shove a handful of buttery styrofoam into your mouth. For the first time in weeks it doesn’t hurt to talk about. It’s not even a little sore, there’s no bitterness or resentment. There’s nothing there. It’s pure indifference. 
You pushed Peter away because you didn’t want him to be a rebound, you didn’t want to use him to get over someone else. But you haven’t thought of him since… since… you can’t remember the last time you actually thought of him. 
But when you think of Peter your heart races, your palms feel warm, your stomach flutters. His kisses ignite you. You wake up in the morning and think of him, you wake up every night to make sure he’s home and go right back to sleep. You walk with him every morning, you wave and smile at school, you come over everyday. 
You’re in love with Peter and only Peter. 
“I don’t know why I ever thought he was worth that.” 
Peter has the answer, it’s muffled around popcorn. “Cause you loved him.” You pick a piece off Peter’s shirt and crunch down on it. “Yeah, I don’t think I knew what love was. How embarrassing.”  
He smiles. Your eyes catch the screen again, you shuffle more towards Peter, then stop yourself. “Is it weird if we cuddle?” Peter rips the popcorn bowl between you away, he’s never cuddled with a girl before but he’d be an idiot to say no. 
“Weird for who? Weird for me? Weird for us?” Peter doesn’t care about the answer. “Those are rhetorical, just come cuddle me.” It’s all you needed, you press up against him and wait, he’s not moving. Fine with you, you halfway lay on him, head on his chest. You’ve never been this close to him, you’ve kissed him and you’ve made a bold move that backfired, but you’ve never been this soft or domesticated with him. 
Peter’s heart is drumming a little fast, you make no comment. Yours is beating at the same rate. 
You expected Peter to still like you but you haven’t asked. After what happened maybe he decided you’d be better friends. It wasn’t talked out, you both skimmed over what happened and started hanging out like nothing happened. 
But it did and you’re glad. It puts things in perspective. It made you realize how much you like him. You just need to know if it made him feel the opposite. 
“Do you still like me?” 
“I’m sorry, I’ve never cuddled with anyone before so I don’t really know what-” 
“No, I mean do you still like me?” Peter knows what you mean. He doesn’t know how you think he doesn’t. “Of course I do.” You peek up at him, he’s already got eyes on you, it makes your cheeks feel warm. 
“Even after I was shitty to you?” Peter laughs, a hard laugh, you move with his jostles. “Honey, you’ve been giving me shit for nine years, it hasn’t slowed me down one bit.” 
Honey. It has a nice ring to it, you like it. But the one you’ve always liked hasn’t ever been uttered with endearment and you really want it, you want it to come from Peter’s voice and have it wrap around your ears while your heart bubbles up with giddiness. 
“Can you call me sweetheart?” 
“Is that the one you like?” 
“Yeah.” 
“Sure thing, sweetheart.” 
It’s so much sweeter than you imagined. 
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You’re not sure what details May knows, but she knows you hurt her nephew. She hasn’t said anything but you can feel her watching your back every time you’re with Peter. Her tone isn’t clipped and she’s just as welcoming as before, but you can feel it. You can sense that she isn’t fully trusting. 
May had stared at you for a good thirty seconds when she caught you spread across Peter’s lap while he studied. You tried to focus on his rubix cube in your hand, even going as far to prove you’re not a threat by giving him a light kiss on his cheek. She didn’t seem convinced, but she left it alone. 
Two days ago she burst into Peter’s room and made it very clear that when you were over the door stays open. Peter tried to fight it, he said that you were just hanging out but she was dead serious, going as far as saying that if he couldn’t handle her rules, he wasn’t allowed to have company. 
Peter didn’t tell you that you were the only person with this rule, but you knew you were. 
“I just don’t get why you’re making such a big deal out of this, May. She’s just-” You weren’t going to be involved, you weren’t going to give May more ammo. 
“Door stays open, Peter. If May says it, we follow it.” Peter doesn’t agree with you, you can tell by the way he nods his head and clicks his pen. When did you start being able to read him? And why do you like it so much? 
But the real hint was when you weren’t welcome to stay for dinner the previous night. There’s never been a time May denied you food, most of the times she’d come over begging you to join so they wouldn’t have so many leftovers. But last night she just suggested you go home and prepare for the next day. 
You watched Peter’s jaw clench in frustration, then you sweetened him up with a smile and told him you were planning on leaving anyway. You don’t think he bought it. You needed to talk to May, you needed to know she was okay with you and Peter, if she wasn’t- no matter how hard it would hurt, you’d stay away from Peter. 
May is all he has and you’re not going to put any strain on their relationship. Not over you. 
Peter was staying late at school for math club and it’s your perfect opportunity. A light knock, May answers almost instantly. She’s surprised but she melts into a smile, it’s lacking something. “Oh! Peter isn’t here.” 
“I know. I wanted to talk to you.” Now you’ve got her interest. May opens the door wide, you go straight to the kitchen for the batch of cookies Peter made you last night. You can taste the love in them. 
“May, I need you to level with me here. Do you have a problem with me dating Peter?” There’s a beat of silence, “are you dating him?” You swallow a bite, “not yet. I needed to make sure it was okay with you.” 
“You’re asking for my blessing?” You slightly nod. “More or less. You’ve been really nice but I feel like there’s a little tension. I feel like you don’t totally trust me with him.” Confirmation, but it doesn’t hurt like you think. 
“Peter’s a sensitive boy. He does everything a hundred and ten percent. If you want him, he’ll give you more than his all. Can you say the same?” Can you? Yes. It’s without a doubt. You want him and only him and you’d lay your life on the line. There’s been so much wasted time, Peter could’ve been your first but you were too stubborn. 
Peter wasn’t your first, but with everything in you he’s going to be your last. 
“Yes. I’m in love with him. I love him more than I ever loved anyone, I love him more than I thought was possible. I want to be there for him, I want to support him through the bad days and I want to be by his side for the good ones. I want him and only him, I was just too dumb to see it before.” 
May’s mouth etches into a smile, this time it reaches her eyes and she’s hugging you. A whisper in your ear, “I always knew this is how it would end.” You grin into her shoulder, “really?” 
“Peter’s nothing but determined. It was only a matter of time.” You know what that means. “Are you giving me your blessing?” She laughs and pulls you closer, “you always had it. I just needed to know you were serious.” 
Time passes quickly, you’re three cookies down and you’re itching for a fourth. You swear he puts crack in them. You talk animatedly with May, you’re fawning over her own love story and hoping that that would be your future with Peter. When the door unlocks you perk up, you can’t bite back your smile or tapping feet. 
“Whatcha doing here? Hi May.” Your arms spread wide, Peter fills them. “I came to talk to May, I stayed to see your handsome face.” How did you once see it as annoying? How did you once find his smile revolting? He’s the prettiest person you’ve ever seen. You want to kiss him more than anything, May gave you the green light, you press up on your toes to give him a peck. 
“I missed you. How was math club? Were you the smartest hunk there? Don’t answer, I already know it’s a yes.” Peter’s still reeling from the kiss but he powers through. “I wouldn’t be too confident about that, sweetheart.” Your heart clenches, him saying it makes your knees feel weak. “Mathew Ryan is in the club with me.” 
“I hate blondes. I only like cuties with brown, curly hair by the name of Peter Parker.” His eyes squint at you, it makes you feel warm, you hide back in his chest. May’s watching with heart eyes, she’s never seen you so happy. “You’re laying it on thick today. You must need something.” 
“Just you, handsome.” Okay, you might be laying it on a little thick, but you can’t hold it in. You just love him too much, it’s uncontainable. He’s perfect. “May, she’s up to something. I don’t trust it.” His aunt keeps grinning. “I do.” 
Peter pats your back, “if you trust it, I guess I have to, too.” You squeeze him tight and mumble into his chest, he still hears you. “What, now?” You asked if you could talk to him, it had him looking down and giving you his full attention. 
“What’s up?” Your eyes shoot to his door, message received. Peter leaves a small gap in the door, you pause and poke your head out to his aunt. “Can I shut the door?” A three second count, “permission granted.” It clicks shut, you spin, you have all his attention. 
“You said I was never properly loved.” 
Peter feels his heart drop, it was the nastiest thing he could ever say to you. Part of him wished you had forgotten but that’s not something that’s forgettable, that’s something that sticks with you forever. He never meant to say it, it was something he spewed out to make you feel just as bad but that’s not who he is and that’s not what he does and he really should’ve apologized way before now. 
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. It was a shitty thing to say and I-” 
“You weren’t wrong. I haven’t been properly loved. But I’d like for you to show me how it feels.” 
Your pulse rises with his silence, Peter holds out a steady hand. “Just to be clear, you’re asking me-” 
“If you’d be my boyfriend.” 
You let out a soft groan, you’re spinning in his hold and pushing at his arms. “Peter!” He doesn’t care, your feet lightly dangle, you’re laughing with him. “Nuh uh, you’re not allowed to push me away anymore, I’m your boyfriend.” 
Boyfriend. Peter Parker is your boyfriend. What a rush of feelings, there’s a new one you haven’t felt before. Pride. You’re prideful that Peter’s your boyfriend, you’ve got the greatest person in the world tethered to your hip and he’s going absolutely nowhere. Ever. 
“I’ve been waiting for this day since I was fifteen.” A flurry of kisses over your face, “holy wow, you’re my girlfriend. I can kiss you whenever I want, and I can touch you! Oh, and now I always have someone to eat pizza with. And the science museum! No one ever wants to go to the science museum with me!” 
“Holy wow?” You giggle at a string of kisses to your jawline, you never knew someone would be so excited at the thought of dating you. “Wow, wow, wowie, my girlfriend’s a hottie.” You push him away with a disgusted sound, “that’s so gross, Peter.” 
“Oops, let me repent with a kiss.” 
It’s the fireworks again. This time they’re blinding. Your back burns with his touch, you want to swallow him whole. It’s not lacking passion, but it’s soft. You reach for his shirt collar when he pulls away, this time he laughs. 
“I was going to ask if I was a bad kisser but-” 
“No.” This time you’re keeping him chained to you with your hands behind his neck. “Best kisser ever,” you give him a chaste one to prove it. “My handsome baby.” Your waist is squeezed, “you’re too nice.” He doesn’t understand, he’ll never be able to understand. 
“I wasted so much time, Peter. You were right there and I was so… so stupid that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. I have no idea why you like me, I was so mean and cruel and I never appreciated you.” 
Peter has secrets too. “I was friendly, but I didn’t like you. You were super aggressive and made a point to say something mean… but then Ben died.” The oxygen runs from your lungs, it wasn’t something you thought about, you thought he didn’t either. 
It was brutal watching him and May go through that. You remember that night vividly, the night May got the call. You could hear her screams from your room, it’s something you’ll never forget. Her wails, the way she begged to God that it was all a dream. You knew what happened before you could see them and the one thing you thought of in that moment was Peter. 
You can still remember the panic you felt, the overwhelming urge to make sure he was okay. You remember your feet skidding across the carpet, the cold hardwood in the hall, the way your middle knuckle split you were knocking so hard. 
‘Peter,’ it’s all you had to say. Then you were scooping him into your arms, holding him tight as he sobbed. You kept telling him you were sorry, you brushed his hair back and rubbed circles on his back. You kept him tucked into your neck while he cried, you didn’t tell him it was okay, nothing about that night was okay. You remember holding in your own tears, you swallowed them down and held Peter all night. 
Fourteen hours. You had him curled up with you while you kept telling him sorry, you had stayed up all night with him and took care of him. You got him water, you made him eat a snack, you did what you could while they slept. You did laundry, you did the dishes, you made cookies. 
Peter’s uncle died and you made him cookies. 
Your boyfriend dumped you and Peter made you cookies. 
You basically lived there for a week, you slept with Peter, held him with each bout of sadness, and never ever told him it was okay. You held his hand at the funeral and kissed him on the back of it before he gave his eulogy. You made sure he was minimally functioning, you tried to keep him busy with dumb tasks. 
After two weeks he didn’t need you anymore and you slowly faded away until it settled into how it used to be. You think Peter liked it a little, not everything had to change because Ben died. But you never went out of your way to hurt him anymore, he didn’t need your help in that department. What used to be petty attacks turned into silence and gentle name calling. 
But you were there for him when he needed it. Just how he was with you. 
“You pulled an Uncle Ben on me.” 
A twitch in his lips, “you were there for me when my world ended, I had to return the favor.” It’s not fair for him to compare the two. “I was broken up with, I didn’t have my-” 
“Devastation comes in all forms. It’s not about whos is worse, it’s about being there for someone you care about.” He doesn’t hide his smile, “even if they claim to hate you for all eternity.” 
“I don’t hate you anymore.” 
“Spoiler alert, you never did.” 
You’ve been caught. Peter knew the whole time, he was just waiting on you. “Are you sure you don’t hate me? Cause I’ve been really terrible to you the last month.” Your boyfriend rolls his eyes before giving you a big hug. 
“That’s because you’re stubborn and didn’t want to admit you liked me.” You poke his ribs, “you knew?” 
“Sweetheart, I knew the day you said I had very pretty eyes.” 
“Yeah, you do. Let me see them again, boyfriend.” 
The last six weeks you detested love and what it brings. The disaster, the heartbreak, the pain. You never thought you’d love again and definitely not with the neighbor you hated. But right there, in his room, you felt your heart crack open and ooze onto his bedroom floor. 
And you watched love begin again. 
“Anything for you, girlfriend.” 
----
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theemporium · 1 year
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Just a thought but Sirius or someone having a thing for you for ages and at some point you finally get together but Remus James and Peter just don’t believe it because you’re so opposite and Sirius just trying to convince them but they don’t believe him until they walk into you kissing or something. Love your work btw <3
kinda changed it to sirius being with someone they never expected but i hope you enjoy it! and thank you!!🖤
.
“Pads is dating her?!”
Remus and James stood in front of Peter, lips parted in shock at the rumour that just left their friend’s lips. They had been in the common room, respective textbooks sprawled around them when Peter came rushing in, eyes wide and cheeks flushed at what he had just seen.
At first, they thought their friend was taking the piss and waited for Sirius to jump out from the shadows with a grin on his face, claiming it was all a prank. But no Sirius had appeared and Peter kept talking and—fuck, they just couldn’t quite believe it.
In all honesty, it was shocking enough that Sirius had settled down with one person, let alone that he was dating you of all people. 
You stood for everything they assumed their friend hated, purely because you would’ve been Walburgha Black’s number one choice to marry her eldest son off with. 
You were raised with the pureblood etiquette, speaking prim and proper and not even allowing yourself to use slang as you spoke. You were a Slytherin, and proud to be so. You were crazy smart and you were the image of pureblood royalty, though the cold shoulder you usually gave people and the snarky attitude didn’t exactly make it easy for even those with a pureblood complex to approach you. 
Even if for some bizarre reason their friend had fallen for you, the fact that you liked him back was shocking enough to keep both boys seated on the couch as Peter retold the story for the thirteenth time. 
“I’m calling bullshit,” James said with a shake of his head. “This must be some elaborate prank he’s pulled off.”
“And what? Got her involved?” Remus asked. 
“Maybe it’s someone with a polyjuice potion,” Peter supplied. 
“Or maybe Pads is actually dating her,” Remus said before his nose scrunched up. “Yeah no, he’s definitely up to something.” 
It took less than five seconds to work out where Sirius was with the help of the map that was quickly shoved in their pocket as all three boys began rushing towards the courtyard, so sure that whatever Peter had seen had to be false. 
Because there was no fucking way that Sirius Black was—
All three boys quickly drew to a stop when they noticed you both. You were sitting on a picnic blanket, leaning back on your hands as you nodded along to something. Sirius, however, had his head propped on your lap, talking away as his hands moved animatedly to the point they could have sworn they saw your lips twitch into a smile. 
“Holy shit,” James gaped at the sight. 
“It could still be a prank,” Remus said, though he didn’t know how much he really believed that himself. 
And just when they thought they couldn’t be shocked any further, you leaned down to press your lips against the wizard, his hand coming to grip the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss. 
“Moony, are you seeing this?” 
“I’m seeing this, Prongs.” 
“Right, great because I think I’m gonna faint.” 
What they couldn’t see was the way Sirius’s lips twisted into a grin as he continued to kiss you, his fingers expertly pulling the clip out of your hair until it cascaded around you both. 
“Your friends are still staring,” you informed him, the words whispered against his lips as you began to pull back but he was quick to chase you. 
“Let them stare all they want, love,” he murmured as his thumb lightly brushed over your thumping pulse. “I bet they are fucking confused.” 
“Such crass language,” you hummed. 
Sirius smirked. “Gonna punish me, love?” 
You shook your head in amusement, pulling back fully despite the way Sirius playfully pouted in response. “You wouldn’t be able to handle my punishments, Black.” 
His eyes gleamed at the challenge. “Is that so?” 
“You are all bark and no bite,” you informed him and the boy was quick to scramble up, his hands darting to your sides as he crawled over your squirming body. 
“I can show you just how hard I bite, love, you just gotta ask.”
.
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hurtspideyparker · 28 days
Text
Thinking about restless spirit Tony Stark who just can't move on to the after life.
The first thing he does once he realizes he's an apparition is check on Pepper and Morgan. True to their word, they're okay. He watches them for a bit but feels this deep unrest pulling him away from the quaint home he yearns for.
There's a deep wrongness within him, some unfinished business that draws him back to New York.
He fears for a moment that it's Peter- but no, it can't be him. He'll be in Massachusetts right now, attending MIT as a freshman. There isn't a doubt in Tony's mind that his little genius is already making his mark.
Still, he follows the pull of his spirit to some dingy Queens' apartment he's never been to before.
It's deep in the night yet the apartment is empty. He looks around a bit, his body phasing through anything he attempts to touch.
It's small and dirty. There's old coffee cups on the desk, alongside a couple GED manuals. Great, the universe thinks he has unfinished business with some broke high school dropout.
He's pondering how he must have screwed up this kid's life; was it the Avengers, Stark Industries? Maybe his old playboy lifestyle is finally coming to bite him in the ass.
His contemplation is cut short by the sound of the window cracking open.
It strikes Tony for a moment that maybe he's stuck on Earth to be a guardian angel, Iron Man living on as some invisible protector against whatever creep is sneaking into people's windows. It doesn't make much sense considering the whole non-corporeal thing, but he still stiffens like he's ready for a fight.
He sees a man- no, a thing? A creature maybe, or an alien. Even in death Tony can't escape being one of Earth's mightiest heroes.
The creature is shrouded in darkness, something slick and bald crawling inside the room with terrifying grace and silence. It shuts the window with a soft kssssh as the seal is formed.
And then it pulls off its mask.
There, with the click of a table lamp, glows the face of Peter Parker.
He's definitely older now; sturdier shoulders, a rugged set of his jaw, hair tamed to something semi-professional. Still present, though, are those gentle brown eyes.
Nothing makes sense right now. Why is his kid here, in this apartment? Surely May wouldn't allow this. How many tenant laws does this place break? Where are his little sidekick friends? And on what planet would Peter Parker ever need a GED?
Tony's getting angry now, watching Peter move around the tiny space. He changes out of his costume and into pajamas. That spider suit isn't Tony's suit, it looks like cheap craft store fabric.
The kid opens a small freezer and pulls out the singular bag of peas that reside in there, pressing it against his ribs while he goes to pop some bread into a toaster.
Tony takes note of every glimpse he gains into Peter's life. Empty cabinets when he reaches for a jar of peanut butter. A fridge housing nothing but condiments and energy drinks when he goes to grab jam. A drawer with two spoons, no forks, and a paring knife which he pulls out and sticks into the strawberry jam jar just as the toast pops.
This is all so wrong.
Tony's outrage is coming to a rolling boil. Peter deserves the world- he was gonna give him the world. He couldn't wait to send Peter to MIT and show him off as his protégé. Tony was gonna fund his projects, tease him about pretty girls, maybe even see him step back from Spider-Man and act like a normal college kid. He wanted to see him flourish and grow up. It was all he could think about when Peter turned to dust between his fingers; he should be goofing off with his friends at a mathletes meeting, or building Legos, not fighting an intergalactic war.
Tony couldn't even conceive how much went wrong to end up here.
Alone. Broke. No school. He didn't even have his Stark suit to protect him. Everything that made him him has been stripped, leaving him in this shallow box with scuffed paint and hollow cabinets.
Tony can feel the violent rage burn deep in his spirit as he thinks about it.
This is why he's here. He can't let his boy live like this, wasting his potential to be some villain's punching bag. Where is everyone? Does no one care enough to stop this? The fury that builds in Tony is dangerous, wondering why a dead man is the only one who cares about the teen's life right now.
Without thinking Tony's hand reaches for the GED textbook, a mocking piece of work that laughs in his face, and throws it at the stupid little kitchenette that's mere feet from the bed.
It sails across the room with surprising speed before it's met with a thunk against Peter's palm, hand reaching out to catch it from the air before it collided with the toaster.
Oh.
Peter sets the book down and immediately picks up his web shooters, eyes darting furiously to every corner of the tiny apartment.
"Who's there?"
Tony steps a little closer but Peter's eyes just look right past him.
"C'mon Pete, c'mon. I'm here, I'm right here."
Tony looks for something else to grab. He swats at a hopefully empty coffee cup on the wooden desk, but his hand just passes right through it.
"Shit," the hope Tony felt waivers slightly and he tries again.
Nothing.
Peter is searching his apartment now, making sure the window is secure and feeling around every crevice, bookshelves, under the bed, in the top corners of the room. Searching for something nefarious, tech maybe.
Tony hits the cup, again and again, frustration building up and up and up till-
The cup flies across the room, Tony and Peter's eyes track its movements as it bounces against the ground and rolls to a stop.
"Shit," Peter breathes out.
Tony walks up to Peter now, standing before him.
"Figure it out. Think kid, you've met aliens, gods, magicians, surely ghosts aren't too far fetched."
Peter closes his eyes. His posture straightens, Tony watches him take a deep breath in as the hairs on his bare arms stand on end.
Peter's eyes blink open, and they're looking directly at Tony.
Tony smirks, "that's it."
Peter turns around and picks the cup off the ground, running to his desk with it and ripping a piece of lined paper out of a notebook and scribbling furiously on it.
Tony walks over as Peter places the cup in the center of the paper.
On the left is the word YES in bold print, NO on the right.
"Okay, okay okay. So, move the cup if, if you wanna talk. Um, is there someone in the room right now?"
Tony reaches for the cup, an intense glare as his fingertips graze it gently. It shifts minutely towards the YES.
"Shit! Shit. Sorry, whew. Okay. Are you friendly?"
Tony moves it to YES again.
"Are you a, um. Person? Like not an alien?"
YES.
"Are you wearing tech, invisibility suit or your molecules are uncalibrated or maybe it's a portal thing like, multiverse shit is happening again, a mirror universe! Oh, maybe a..."
Tony let's a frustrated sign. The kid is too practical, logical. He needs to think like a non-genius.
"... could be. Or, or maybe you're just a ghost-"
Tony perks up and immediately swats the cup, causing it to fly off the desk towards the YES.
"Oh. Oh that's... kinda normal. Or maybe really weird? I mean... I certainly have some ghosts in my past."
Peter picks the cup up and puts it back on the desk.
"Do I know you?"
YES.
"You said you were friendly, and I'm not getting any danger tingles from you. I'm gonna start with people I know are dead, cuz I just really hope you're not a... new ghost. Um. M-May?"
The boy's voice cracks on the word and Tony freezes. May is dead? Tony starts to fear that things are a lot more wrong than he previously thought.
Peter's breath catches and Tony realizes he's waiting, dying for an answer, and quickly pokes the cup towards NO.
Peter's shoulders sag.
"Uncle Ben?"
NO.
"T- Mr. Stark?"
Tony grins, "now we're getting somewhere!"
YES.
Tony is going to have his work cut out for him, but being here with Peter just feels right.
Peter breaks out into a matching smile.
"Wow, okay. I think I'm gonna need more paper," he says as the boy gets to work making a more complex system than YES and NO.
Tony watches on proudly, reminiscing about all the great Peter was and all the great he still is, despite his situation. Whatever this is, they'll figure it out.
Together.
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ma1dita · 2 months
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trouble's coming for you
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader
words: 3.7k
summary: (established relationship) suggestive banter lol The one where Percy meets his two favorite counselors at Camp Half-Blood. Also known as the three times Percy is completely oblivious about you two, plus the time he learns what L-O-V-E looks like for two teen demigods. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)
a/n: PERCY POV!!! maybe the real enemy was the blue balls Luke got from a clueless 12-year-old. you’re gonna tell me you wouldn’t overthrow the gods too? scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)
(posted 2/29/24, edited!!! i think!!! four hours of sleep later and a big kiss to @hotchfiles miss lari as always for inspo mwah)
What’s in a name?
One of the last defining memories Percy Jackson had with his mother before arriving at Camp Half-Blood was her reminder that names have power. He’s held fast to that belief, treading carefully with his words in this unfamiliar place that he’s supposed to call home so soon after losing his own.
Being the new kid for the hundredth time in his life means that he’s accustomed to change, much less introducing himself as Percy Jackson, whatever that means at this point—but then becoming known simply as the kid who causes trouble. What then, is he supposed to do, when his first friend at camp introduces him to a girl who embodies the name trouble? 
To Luke, through Percy’s actions, it seems as if he’s trying to reclaim a crown that currently belongs to the beloved head counselor of Camp Half-Blood.
The dining pavilion is filled with mouth-watering scents and the sound of chattering campers to the point that it’s a bit overstimulating if he thinks too hard about it. Mr. Brunn—er, Chiron told him to take it easy after the events from yesterday, but he feels a bit tough on luck after making Luke run circles around camp trying to find what he’s good at.
“Is there a Greek god of disappointment? Maybe someone should ask if he’s missing a kid,” Percy says glumly, pushing the mac and cheese around on his plate. Luke sighs, letting the boy to his right speak.
“Oizys,” Chris mumbles through full cheeks before he cocks his head at the 12-year-old, “but she’s a goddess, and her whole thing isn’t really disappointment, it’s more like failure.”
Luke looks to Chris with a half smile before looking back at the kid and saying, “We’re gonna find the thing you’re good at. I know it.” He looks like he’s going to say something else before something, or someone catches his attention and it’s almost like the older boy is transfixed, eyes shining with mischief or something deeper that Percy’s young brain couldn’t comprehend just yet. 
“And here comes trouble…” Luke says with a smirk, eyes following your figure until your feet take you to their table. The sandy-haired boy twists around, expecting to see a goddess of some sort until he sees you, violet eyes and a lilt of something sinister—giving off the energy of someone who holds power but also likes to fuck with it. You cross your arms over your chest, gaze floating over the three boys and at the tip of your chin, Luke takes his plate off the table, prompting you to hop up and slide onto the smooth surface in front of him. 
“You look like someone kicked your puppy, so you must be the new kid. Peter, right?”
A snort of laughter comes from behind your slouched form, Luke partially concealed but body obviously shaking with amusement as he looks at you.
“He might just turn out to be a puppy kicker one day,” the son of Hermes jokes, “Meet Percy Jackson.”
“That’s not…”
You sigh at Luke’s idea of a joke, face incredulous as you lean over and conjure strawberries onto Percy’s plate. He’d never seen anything like that before, someone so casual about their abilities, but he didn’t have much of a reference past yesterday. This camp keeps surprising him in ways he’s never imagined possible.
“Heard D gave you a hard time earlier, sorry about him—I’d blame it on withdrawals but he’s just an asshole,” you offer with a smile and a handshake as you introduce yourself, watching the boy’s eyes widen with wonder.
“It’s not your fault…I’m used to being the new kid.”
Eyebrows furrowing at his tone, you lean in closer, voice turning serious. You’re a lot like Mr. D in the sense that it’s easy for you to poke at the kids who come through here for a reaction to make sure they’re okay mentally. When they don’t react is usually the call for help.
“Well, new kid, if anyone gives you a problem here at camp, you let me know. Even if it’s these two hooligans, or if it’s my dad.”
“You’re talking to our lovely head counselor, Percy. She calls the shots around here,” Chris chimes in jest. But only one part of your sentence sticks in his mind as he whips his head up from munching on a berry. 
“He’s your dad?”
“Yeah, unfortunately,” you giggle, “and though you’re sweet and I would love to have you as a sibling, he kind of has a rule on having too many kids at once, unlike other gods.”
“A rule he’s already broken,” Luke drones, hand fidgeting with the black bandana tied around your thigh, “but who knows? If Percy ends up to be one of you, well…may the gods have mercy on us all.”
A deadpan stare is directed at the scarred boy, and you swipe at his curls like a feral cat, making him wince and laugh all the same as he bats you away.
“Tough shit, 11. Do you know how many hellions inhibit your cabin? Your dad inflicts agony on me personally every time another one of your siblings walks past the boundaries.”
The petty squabble is interrupted by the chime of the bell over your heads, but you two are still in a world of your own. It reminds Percy of the time he watched two subway rats fight over a pizza slice on the 6—he didn’t really know who to root for then either. Chris sighs and gets up, nudging Luke to follow, which he does begrudgingly as he claps his large hand on your leg. You hiss.
“Our turn!” Luke says with a hint of sarcasm. 
“Our turn for what?”
“Burnt offerings,” you explain as you chomp on a strawberry, “the gods like the smell, so it gets their attention before you say a prayer.” You notice Percy stay in his seat, which makes a smile pull at your lips, “Think you’re off the hook for today though, bud. Or you can be just like me.”
“Don’t give him any ideas, trouble. I’ll throw in a few for Hestia.” Luke chews at his lip as he leans over you to grab a few berries off of Percy’s plate to toss into the fire for you. 
“You don’t pray?”
“I’m not really the religious type. I’ve got what I need,” you concede, leaning back on your palms as you watch the son of Hermes stand for a few extra seconds at the hearth. “Besides, my godrent is right over there, and Luke worries enough for me. It’s more his thing,” you say with a lazy smile. The campers filing out of the dining hall wave at you and you enthusiastically greet everyone with dancing fingers. He doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone that…happy to be on the job, but things work differently around here, so he doesn’t think much of your upbeat attitude.
“Eat up. Some of that strength has to go to you. Gonna need it.” You say ruffling Percy’s hair, and when Luke comes back, he tugs at the shoelaces of your boots until you kick his hands away. You both share a smile like people do a secret, even here in the open air.
“Do they like the smell of burnt mac and cheese?” Percy says curiously, eating another spoonful of the meal. His head hurts at another thing to consider in this brand-new world he’s walked into.
“They like the smell of begging,” Luke grins, and you laugh like a firework going off, making Percy’s lips pull up into a smile.
“I’m not much of a beggar though, if you ask me.”
The son of Hermes hums at you like he wants to say otherwise, and you slap his chest as you suck air through your teeth. Beneath the wood top of the table and with Percy being none the wiser, your fingers intertwine with Luke’s like it’s second nature. 
“You burn what you’ll miss the most. Then they know you really mean what you’re about to say, so they listen.” 
Luke takes a breath after explaining how things work for the nth time to the kid, knowing Percy’s quite persistent about making his dad notice him. He remembers being jaded too—striving to be the best for a lick of his dad’s attention and all of his efforts were done in vain. Even though the kid’s arrival at camp was a bit unexpected, Luke doesn’t mind showing him around. 
Hopefully, less work on your end means that he can spend more time with you once this is over with— but by the looks of how the day is going so far, he’s not so sure. He hopes his offerings reach the gods and they grant him extra patience for his good deeds. Watching you laugh at something Percy says as you all walk out of the dining pavilion, Luke wonders if you know that every offering he burns for the goddess of the hearth and home is so that she’ll protect you.
—-
“Lights out in 10 minutes, cabin 11! Everyone ready for bed?”
The sound of your voice jolts Percy awake from his post-dinner nap and he blinks slowly until he sees you walking towards him with extra blankets and pillows in your grasp. The other campers were kind of stand-offish, and after praying to his mom he was overwhelmed with the feeling of missing her, so much so that it drained the rest of his energy.
“Long day, huh bud?”
Drowsy with sleep, for a moment, Percy forgets where he is—the unfamiliar walls of the cabin making him shift with unease as he rubs at his eyes. The blurry version of you makes his chest go warm and for a second, it’s like—
“Mom?”
He blinks again, his pale face turning red when he realizes his slip-up. Percy’s shoulders drop when he hears giggles from somewhere in the big cabin and you reach out to smooth his hair away from his face with a gentle smile.
“Don’t worry about it. Everyone who first comes to 11 gets nightmares. For some of them, they don’t leave,” you mutter. Percy notices your eyes flicker over to Luke’s bed, where he’s zipping up his hoodie and chatting with one of his half-siblings. Cabin 11 is finally quieting down for the night—children scrambling into their bunks, doing nighttime routines, and having quiet conversations. It’s all so weird, this being everyone’s normal.
“You’re not alone though. Saw you earlier, outside. I still pray to my mom sometimes. She's quite the listener,” you say with a sad twinkle in your eye. The kid sniffs as you hand him the pillows and blankets, finally meeting your gaze.
“Did your mom…” Die too? The words feel like lead in his throat, feeling heavy as he swallows it down. He doesn’t want to cry in front of the pretty counselor, much less speak the truth, because if he says it out loud, it means his mom dying must have been real. Also since you’ve seen him sit in the dark of the forest burning blue jelly beans like a freak. What he didn’t know is that you pride yourself on being one. It takes one to know one, after all.
“Yeah. Makes for one hell of an origin story, but I found my place here, and people who care. I know you will too, when you’re rea—” Your words trail off when you see Luke walk past the both of you with a cool expression before he nods towards the door, and you squeeze Percy’s shoulder before getting up.
“Night guys! It’s getting late so we’ll have to do a story next time, okay?” You walk down the aisle patting heads and tucking in smaller campers, and he hears you whack the younger Stoll brother when he teasingly says, “It’s not fair that Luke gets a bedtime story and we don’t…”
“Connor, enough. I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up and called me mom, so save it for tomorrow.” He must have been the one laughing earlier.
“Everyone say goodnight trouble!” Luke calls out with a coy expression, making you roll your eyes as you flick the light off to a symphony of jeers. It’s finally quiet as Percy is propped up against some pillows that smell like raspberries and soft cotton before he realizes he has to pee. 
But Chris said harpies hunt kids after curfew… he thinks.
In a moment of sheer panic, Percy looks around in the darkness of the cabin before the sound of your cackling pierces through the dim light from the outside. He hops up from the makeshift cot and tugs his shoes back on, slowly creeping past the long row of bunks to not disturb other campers before he gets to the door. Your head turns quickly to the intrusion as you spring away from Luke, stubbing a cigarette underneath the wood panel out of sight when Percy steps through the doorway. 
“Sorry, I need to use the bathroom,” he says sheepishly as Luke nods, scratching his neck and leaning a far distance away from you. Under the low burning lamps, Percy notices Luke’s cheeks redden and he wonders if he is interrupting something, but the urge to go increases as he steps between you two.
“Right. I’ll walk you to yours?” Luke blurts in one breath. With a wordless smile on your lips, you nod before Percy purposely interrupts this time.
“I can walk her, it’s on the way to the bathrooms, right?”
If only this poor kid knew he was being the cockblock of the century.
“Yeah, Percy’s got me. The harpies won’t like you missing curfew, Castellan,” you tease, stepping around him with a shit-eating grin. Your hair almost floats in the gentle breeze, and Luke rolls his eyes.
“Stay out of trouble. I mean it,’ he sighs, before shoving you off the porch, and you laugh at the irony of his words. Looking back at Luke, Percy noticed his eyes were on you like he wanted to live in your skin, which was equal parts disgusting and confusing to the 12-year-old. His steps double in pace as you both walk down the path and a brief side glance at your stifled smile quickly makes the kid wonder if you’d let him. Pushing the sleeves of Luke’s hoodie past your elbows, you wave at Percy’s rushing figure as he almost bolts to the bathroom and you lean against the doorway of your empty cabin. You turn the light on and look across the way to see your boyfriend still leaning against his door, so you flip him off. Of course, he takes that as his cue to saunter over.
But then the loud clanging sound of pipes bursting reaches both of your ears and toilet water floods the dirt near the back end of your cabin. 
So close.
“I’m gonna go check on Annie to see if she’s still on duty. Tough luck, babe,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his cheek before walking in the direction that Percy went, sending the son of Hermes to drag his feet towards your cabin, alone (he didn’t expect to fall asleep propped over your covers waiting up for you, but a lot happened in that damn bathroom).
“Hey, today feel like a winning kind of day to you?” Annabeth smirks at the son of Hermes. Next to them, Percy feels a hand clap him on the shoulder and all three of them turn to see you donning red.
“Didn’t you three hear the conch? Wouldn’t want you to fall behind,” you say with a grin as Luke steps up to you and whistles lowly.
“Didn’t know you were playing today. It’s a shame you look that good in red.”
Annabeth fake gags as she crosses her arms to say, “You’re also currently on enemy territory if you haven’t noticed.”
“Oh, you wound me. I’m not a threat. Percy, I obviously don’t have the flag, right?”
He nods a bit dumbly, still worried about the mechanics of the game and the part he has to play for the blue team, but no one else seems to share his concerns.
“Anyways, sorry I’m not on your team, Perce. The Ares kids snatched me up as soon as my name was on the roster, so I came to wish you all luck.”
“This better not be a diversion tactic, trouble,” Luke simpers, playfully tugging at your staff, which you use for leverage to step up onto a rock to meet him at eye level.
“Nah. You know I like the competition, angelface,” you whisper, almost daring him to do something.
“Bite me, trouble.”
There’s a fire in his eyes you’d love to stoke, but now’s not the time or place. You can’t help but indulge though—the both of you enjoy the reactions you can pull from each other.
“You’d like it too much.”
“Alright now,” Annabeth groans, calling your name, rolling her eyes as she pulls at Luke’s arm, “Gotta remember he’s your enemy!” 
“I’M TRYING!” You laugh, shaking your head and walking back towards your team as you shoot them a fake salute. It all happens too quickly as Percy’s unable to catch the spitfire words between the two of you, thinking further about how he might get maimed during this game (which in the grand scheme of things, he almost does. Thanks Clarisse).
“Those two are hopeless! Walk faster, sunshine—we lost too much time watching whatever that was.” Percy stumbles along the forest path as he follows Annabeth, the both of them leaving Luke smirking to himself as he follows the rest of their team. 
Hours later, at Clarisse’s muddy feet and holding her broken spear, Percy hears cheering in the distance as he watches the blue team led by Luke waving the red flag in one hand and your legs supported by his other. You’re in a fireman’s hold across his shoulders and everyone watches as the son of Hermes spins you around like a Tilt-a-Whirl until the sound of your shrieks is audible from the shoreline. He sets you down gently, dominant hand still around your waist as he snickers, “Got my win and my girl. Must be time to celebrate.” You laugh at his absurdity, pulling his helmet off and wiping the sweat off his forehead with your bandana.
“You’re always going to be a loser in my eyes.” 
Slapping the plush of your hip, the sound echoes in the air—suddenly quiet as you gasp. But you’re not looking at Luke anymore, but rather the gleaming trident above Percy’s head as it’s revealed he’s a forbidden child. His jaw tightens at the sight, and there are a lot of emotions running through him, remembering Thalia and knowing that his plans will have to be altered once more because of Percy Jackson. You squeeze his hand before walking away from him to follow your dad and Chiron to the Big House, shooting him a nervous glance.
Damn.
The boys have been sparring for hours, and just as you think Percy’s getting the hang of it, Luke thrusts forward with an energy no one should have towards a 12-year-old. Although a bit concerning, he does have a lot to catch up on how to fight like a demigod before his quest in a few days.
“Take a break or else you’ll be crawling away from camp by the end of the week,” you joke, handing Percy and Luke bottles of cold water. Your boyfriend takes big gulps before pouring the rest over his head, leaving you gaping and a little hot under his stare as he nudges your chin and winks.
“You’re doing that on purpose!”
Luke shrugs slyly, and the both of you watch Percy catch his breath. He leans over your shoulder, the tone of his voice sultry as it tickles your ear, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other word would smell as sweet.” 
You bite your lip, before bursting with laughter—which isn’t exactly the reaction he thought you’d have. Maybe he should’ve finished reading the sonnet before falling asleep, but you always take too long with your nighttime skincare routine.
“That doesn’t mean what you think it means, but you’re cute for trying,” you coo, leaning closer so that your cheek touches his. Luke’s whole face is warm from exertion and now embarrassment, but he smiles nonetheless at the proximity. He can’t believe he still misses you, even when you’re skin-to-skin like this.
“That stanza…Isn’t it about names being meaningless?” Percy says between gasps of air before he pours the rest of the water bottle over his head like Luke did. He’s looking up at the both of you as he leans against a tree, instantly feeling more rejuvenated.
You jerk up from your seated position on the large rocks, excited to talk about Shakespeare, and Luke almost pouts at the loss of your attention.
“Yeah! Good job, bud. I forget you went to a hoity-toity charter school,” you say tongue-in-cheek, before turning back to your boy.
“So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, and, for thy name, which is no part of thee, take all myself. You’re gonna have to interpret that one yourself, angelface.” 
“Trust I have no fucking clue but you sound really hot when you talk dirty to me,” Luke says with a shrug. Percy laughs at that, before finally bringing up the question that’s been on his mind since Luke introduced you to him.
“Why do you call her trouble? She seems okay to me.”
“Thanks,” you say dryly, but the older boy leans on his arm with a lovestruck expression as he gazes at you. Oh…Percy thinks, brain feeling freshly washed. How did he miss that?
“She used to get in trouble a lot,” he says, before you elbow him hard, “I mean, we used to get in trouble, she’d always drag me into it.”
“You always offered! Don’t twist the fucking story,” you shriek, and the boys laugh at your exasperation.
“Yeah anyways, she’d always find me. Still does, my partner in crime. Trouble always comes for me,” Luke murmurs, waggling his eyebrows and intertwining your fingers together. Your jaw drops and cheeks flush and Percy thinks he understands better now, but gets confused again with what you do next.
You almost slap the goddamn scar off that boy’s face.
It is a terrible thing to be so open: it is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world. -Sylvia Plath
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moonstruckme · 7 months
Note
Heyy
Can I request something fluffy with tasm!Peter where the reader refuses to kiss him cause she's coming down with a cold (definitely not me projecting myself into this) and peter doesn't care cause he loves her kisses sick or not
Thank you for your writing *lots of hugs*
-🔮
Oh no, hope you feel better soon lovely! Thanks for requesting <3
tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 633 words
“Baby.” Peter’s trying to sound serious, but he’s giggling, chasing you about as you try to evade him. “C’mon, just one.” 
“No!” You dodge his hands, dashing around the bed to put something solid between you. “This is for your own good.” 
“I don’t care.” He pouts. “Listen, I’m gonna get sick anyway. Why delay the inevitable and deprive me in the process?”
You give him a hard look. “You’re not going to get sick if you keep away from me.” 
Peter scoffs. “Babe, please. That’s not happening.” 
You cross your arms. “You don’t want this cold,” you reason with him. “It hasn’t even set in all the way for me yet, and I can tell it’s gonna suck.” 
He softens. “That’s what I’m talking about, sweetheart. There’s no way I’m not going to take care of you while you’re sick, so why bother with this? Let’s just cut to the chase.” 
You hesitate. It really isn’t easy to resist him, looking so soft and kissable with his hair all ruffled from the wind outside and that slight pout to his lips. He’s making his eyes extra big to get to you, you know it. But you’re trying to spare him. 
You start to shake your head, but Peter makes to dash around the bed, and you do the first thing you can think of to avoid him, diving under the covers. 
Peter chuckles darkly, and you feel him crawling on top of you, his hands prodding at your form through the fabric. 
“Bad idea,” he tuts. “I’ve got you right where I want you now.” 
“Shut up,” you say, but you’re unable to keep from laughing as his fingers find your side, making you squeal and squirm away from his touch. “Stop! All you have to do is leave me alone for a few days, and then I’ll get better and we can kiss all you want.” 
He hums disapprovingly. “You’re asking too much of me.” 
He straddles you, hands climbing toward the top of the sheets. You curl your fingers into the fabric determinedly, tensing in anticipation of his attack, but then Peter hesitates. 
“Honey,” he says, voice softening slightly. Even though he can’t see you, you narrow your eyes, mistrustful of this change in mood. “You’re only not kissing me because you’re getting sick, right? Like, if you weren’t, you’d want to?”
You hesitate, bemused. “Of course,” you say slowly. 
“So you’re cheating both of us by holding out, huh?” 
You only scoff, but apparently that’s enough confirmation for Peter, because he uncovers you with one good tug of the sheets, tearing them from your grasp. 
“Great, just wanted to be sure.” He holds you in place with a hand at your jaw, pressing his lips to yours with a smack. 
“Peter!” you huff, glaring up at him, but he only pats your cheek consolingly. 
“There we go, baby, I’m all contaminated,” he says satisfiedly. “Now will you give it up and let me be close to you?” 
“Not if it means rewarding your lack of self-preservation,” you grumble, but Peter only rolls his eyes, smiling at you like you’re silly. 
“If you’re asking if I’m always going to want to take care of you when you’re sick, then yes,” he says. “Not sure there’s anything you can do to stop me, sweet thing. I know it must be awful, though, to have a boyfriend who loves you and your kisses so much.” 
He’s trying to guilt you. It’s working, your eye roll nothing more than performative as you warm to the idea of letting him take care of you while you ride out this cold. Peter can tell, grinning down at you smugly. 
“Kiss?” he asks, all but batting his eyelashes at you. “Please?”
This time, you oblige him.
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Text
Also don't think anyone has said this (thats a joke) but like, art styles aside:
The animation, expressions, movement, everything of ATSV is IMPECCABLE.
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Like insanely, ridiculously, almost mind bogglingly good.
[This is a MEDIUM length post]
The main strength is the Emotion -
In terms of animation, the range of emotions Miguel is capable of expressing is like... crazy good. Gwen's emotions ARE UNSPEAKABLY IMPRESSIVE.
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LIKE...ANIMATING HER FUCKING BREATHING???? AND BLINKS!! AS AN EMOTIONAL CUE. HELLO???!!
And the movie hinges on this - almost every scene has an emotional cue that HAS to hit. Whether is Jess's looks of hesitation or Peter B.'s looks of horror.
And this may seem like the most ridiculous comparison ever made but like...
The Bee Movie and Across the Spider-Verse came out FIFTEEN YEARS APART.
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THE BEE MOVIE...THIS MONSTRASITY that has plagued humankind - was made less than two decades from THIS:
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The fact that we progressed that far as a society (pun intended) in that short of a time will never not baffle me.
I genuinely cannot name any other animated movie that:
Has multiple styles throughout the duration
Can seamlessly change styles without the viewer immediately noticing (like Gwen returning to her universe)
Show two or more animation styles on screen at the same time (and no, Roger Rabbit and Space Jam don't count - that's half live action lol)
Just off the top of my head - ATSV shows up to three styles in one scene: I'm mainly thinking of the scene that shows Hobie (customized - style 1), Peter B. (standard - style 2), and Miguel (a light stylized - style 3).
It can be brought to four if you want to count Miles/Gwen, though their style isn't visible.
I can think of a couple scenes that genuinely blew me away in terms of animation -
One being Rio's 'What-EVER?!' because of the little stance correction and head bob she does, because it's such a natural thing to do. And it adds so much to an already perfect line.
It's something someone would genuinely do IRL without even noticing.
Another I LOVE is Pavitr and Hobie roughhousing.
Like, I can't yell about these five seconds of animation more.
It's SO fluid it looks like Motion-Capture and I left the theatre googling is any Mo-Cap was used in the movie (and from what I can tell - no, it's all original animation).
The way Pavitr falls to the side and bumps them - This not only being a natural reaction to Hobie and his weight, but it also LOOKS natural. So much so you can see it affect Hobie's model too. The movement has kinetic energy on both models -
Which is AMAZING CONSIDERING THEY'RE ANIMATED ON LIKE FOUR DIFFERENT TIMES.
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In this shot alone, there's the guitar, vest, AND Hobie, all of which have their own animation rules. Plus the outline on his guitar AND him. And then there PAVI too, who's running at a higher frame rate, touching and interacting with Hobie.
So much so that Hobie's model nearly wraps himself around Pavi. Pavi's hair is moving, Hobie's guitar is moving, there's movement in the background - and it looks GREAT.
PLUS THE CAMERA IS MOVING AND GOSTLING. IT'S NOT A STATIC SHOT. The models and camera are moving AS IF THEY'RE REAL when they're not.
That's - My..I CAN EVEN COMPUTE THAT.
But by far, I think the range of expression used on Miguel is like... Chef's kiss.
(of course I was gonna trick you into reading another post about Miguel. Uh-huh that's what's about to happen)
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Like... are you kidding me?
NAH DEADASS ARE YOU KIDDING ME?????
The whole later half of the movie hinges on Miguel looking buckwild crazy insane and they NAIL that. And like-
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Oh my god what the actual fuck
?????????????????????????? I........ I have nothing to add. After that picture......Nah... LMAOOO
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(left: actual photo of Moche watching this happen)
But Anyway chile, This movie is like.. genuinely a modern marvel.
If Marvel gave Tim Gunn 4 billion dollars and five years, whatever live-action rendition he would have made would not even compare to ATSV on any conceivable level - that's how good it is so jot that down.
And like...don't even get me started on Hobie..his design..his representation...girl I will start crying in this Arby's do not play with me
I just felt that needed to be said.
you get what I'm saying yall know what I mean iight coo
Here's a picture of Hobie to cleanse your palette.
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Bye.
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billthedrake · 1 month
Text
WINGMAN
I generally had a clean lifestyle, at least lately, but it was Mike Gelson's bachelor party, and we five dudes were partying it up in Nashville. I may have been doing my goody two-shoes Brendan Peters thing and getting club soda every few rounds, but my tolerance was down and I was getting good and truly wasted.
My best buddy James Carducci noticed, too. Like me, he was a big guy, a former tight end who carried a lot of muscle on his 6'5" frame, but unlike me he could hold his liquor.
"You gonna get laid tonight, Peters?" he growled in my ear as we entered the room we were sharing. "It's fun to see you let your hair down."
I gave him a scowl but knew he was just ribbing me. It's what buddies did. "Why can't we have the bachelor party in New York or something?"
Carducci knew what I meant. He plopped on one of the beds, his big frame taking up most of the double bed mattress. "Bro, you could have all the gay dudes around you and you'd still be too fuckin' picky."
I lay down on the other bed, looking over at my best friend. We'd both moved to the same city after graduation. Coming out had been a big messy process for me, and James had been the most supportive of my college friends. He was enthusiastically bisexual - not advertising it or anything, but we quickly realized we could switch from teammate-buddies to guy talk and back.
Still, we were opposites in a lot of ways. "Dude... it's easy for you. You just want to get your dick wet."
We'd had versions of this conversation before. He grinned. "Bro, maybe you should get your dick wet for a change. It'd keep you from being a cranky bitch." Yeah, Carducci could get away saying stuff to me no one else could. Then turning his meaty body on his side, he looked right at me. "I get it, Peters. But maybe while you wait for Mr. Right, you can have some fun. I mean, Kevin Murphy's not gonna suck your cock."
"What the fuck?!" I played dumb. Kevin had been the kicker on our D1 team and was Mike Gelson's best man. He was my type to a T... shorter than me and leaner, boy-next-door cute, tight body and a bubble ass.
James lay back again and put his arms around his back, arms knotted and pumped. If I was into big dudes like myself, there might be sexual tension between us. "Bro, it's all over your face. Remember, I know your fuckin' type."
"C'mon, JC," I pleaded, using my nickname for him.
He grinned. "Don't worry, Peters, I'm not gonna say anything to anyone. You know that. Crush out on Murphy all you want. You're just barking up the wrong tree."
"Yeah," I sighed. "It's majorly against the bro code." I was starting to get resentful of how being a horny gay dude and an ex-jock living by the bro code were not exactly compatible.
That got a deep laugh from JC. "So's fucking your buddy's dad."
I sat up, the alcohol and quick movement making my head dizzy. "What?!?!" Normally I'd write off the comment as Carducci being a jokester but the way his words came out made them seem real.
He now sat up and reached down to paw at his crotch to rearrange his junk. "This stays between us," he warned.
"Scouts honor, man," I replied.
My friend got a wild look on his face and a leer as he said, "I banged Gelson's dad."
"Mike Gelson," I clarified. "The fucking groom."
He seemed annoyed. "What other Gelsons do you know, dumbass? Yeah, Mike Gelson's father. It was a couple of years ago, when Mike invited a couple of us to his family's lake house." James was closer to Gelson than I was, which only made what he was describing seme more transgressive.
"Dude, isn't Mr. Gelson like 45?" I'd briefly met the man once but he didn't make too much an impression on me, I guess.
Carducci leered. "He was 50 then, and it was fucking glorious. A whole week, both of us enjoying sneaking around." I knew JC had a bit of a kink for married men. We didn't overshare, but I'd very occasionally hear about a hookup or, more often, I'd unload about a date that didn't go like I wanted.
I had to rib him now. "What, you going for the daddies now, JC?"
Without missing a beat, he looked at me with his brown eyes. "Abso-fucking-lutely, Peters. Exclusively even. You should try an older dude for a change."
I didn't think I was easily shocked but the turn of the conversation had indeed rattled me. I went silent before I said quietly, "Man, I couldn't date a guy my dad's age. What the fuck?"
He laughed. "Dude, who's talking about dating? You're a hot fucking dude, you should be having sex nonstop... " He paused. "Can I be honest, bro?"
I nodded, bracing myself for the barrage of criticism. But this was Carducci, I knew he was looking after me.
"Well," James started. "You always go for the unavailable ones like Murphy, or for the stuck up ones who think they're the shit for having an Insta following." For all of our odd-couple conversations, Carducci had never spelled it out for me quite like this. But he was totally right. "I dunno, maybe you should go outside your type just to see. There are so many daddies out there who'd be so fucking appreciative to make it with a guy like you.... You could use the ego boost, bro."
I thought it over. "Is that what older guys are to you?" I asked. "An ego boost?"
He shook his head. "Nah. I have a pretty massive ego already, bro, I don't need help with that. I just love sex with an older guy." I watched as he pulled a spare pillow down to cover his crotch. I knew why: Carducci was boning up talking about sex, and while we shared a lot there still was the bro code between us. "Some of em have a wild side, like a drunk sorority chick."
I shook my head. "Jesus, JC."
I knew the alcohol was getting us both to open up to this conversation. "It's not like that, Peters. I mean, you know you're with a dude, a real masculine dude at that. But there's that wild, naughty streak beneath the surface. I fucking love it."
He reached over and picked up his phone.
"What? Are you gonna show me a picture of one of your conquests?" I asked.
He looked up and winked. "Perv. No, bro, I'm lining up a blowjob. There's gotta be a horny daddy staying in this hotel."
I blushed. "You serious?"
"Sure, I'm serious," he said, now not taking his eyes off the app as he scrolled through. "Jesus you can be such a fucking prude."
I lay back, feeling insulted but mostly angry that he was right. I'd set up a Grindr profile and used it some but then swore it off over the last year. "Well, you're not bringing him back here," I said.
JC now looked up. "Like I said. Cranky bitch." There was teasing sure, but I think I'd actually pissed off my buddy. I almost apologized but I was stubborn.
Anyway, he was now getting off the bed and putting his shoes back on.
"Already?" I asked with astonishment. JC hadn't been on that app much longer than five minutes.
He laughed. "What can I say, bro?" He smiled. "Daddy wants this..." he used his hand to gesture to his tall muscular body. "I'm in Nashville, I'm gonna have a little fucking fun." He had his phone and key card and seemed good to go. "You should too, Peters. For real."
I didn't say anything but I gave a look that was my attempt at an "I'll think about it."
And like that, I watched my best friend leave our room.
***
The lamplight was still on when I woke up. I'd conked out in my drunkenness. I was massively hungover but I always wake up pretty quickly. Light was coming in and the clock said a little after 8.
Carducci's bed was still made and still empty. The fucker.
I got up and pissed and popped a couple of aspirin, hoping they'd help. My head pounded. And we still had another night of this fucking bachelor party weekend. I wondered if these dudes would want to come to mine when the time came. Hell, I wondered if I'd have one.
I brushed my teeth to get the stale beer taste out of my mouth. My hair was mussed up and I did my best to comb it down.
Fifteen minutes later, after a trip to the lobby to get some coffee, I was feeling more alive. Hungover still, but better. I didn't feel like eating anything, but the aspirin was helping.
I picked up my phone. I'd uninstalled Grindr but it was easy enough to re-install it. It took me a second to remember my login, but I used one of my common passwords. One of these days, I'd need to choose something more secure for my shit.
There were some hot guys in Nashville, but I'd gotten spoiled by the city I lived in now. There was a certain type I was seeing here - either bigger, beefier guys, or else younger thinner twinks. My type was always in between that. I wanted more Dierks Bentley and was seeing a lot more Garth Brooks types, even among the 20-somethings.
I'd been replaying my conversation with JC in my head. He could bust my balls, and maybe in a way I didn't like. But I told myself, I'd give this a try. I changed my profile language to make it less picky and judgmental and adjusted my looking-for age range.
It was early and I didn't see any hits in this hotel, but there was a good looking older guy in the hotel on the next block. Kind of average looking, balding hair, 49yo, but his pics showed off a very fit body, lightly hairy, probably trimmed. Looking for now. If I had to make it with an older dude, this was probably as good a match as any. I'd focus on his body if need be.
"Hey," I typed in a chat. "You're up early."
"Hi man." Then. "This is early?"
"In Nashville it is," I replied back.
"True, ha."
I was never great with the quick hookup thing, but one thing I'd mastered was the art of messaging. Some guys were too direct, not flirty enough, but some guys were too passive and conversational. My style didn't work with everyone, but it was working now, I knew.
"What brings you here?" I asked.
"Business. I thought I'd tack on an extra day for fun. And you?"
"Bachelor party."
"Of course, ha." Then, he added. "You're quite the hunk."
"Thanks man," I typed. "You're hot, too." I wasn't sure how much I thought that. It's not that he wasn't hot, because he was in a way. But in my fucked up way, I knew he wasn't Brendan Peters-worthy hot. Not in my league. But I tried to embrace the Carducci way. "You say you bottom, right?" His profile had read vers-bottom.
"Yep. You wanting to fuck?"
After my conversation with JC, I'd initially been thinking of a blowjob. Baby steps. Something to take the edge off. But now I realized it had been WAY too long since I'd fucked a guy. "God yeah. You able to host?"
"If you can give me fifteen minutes."
I pawed my crotch now. I was getting boned good. "Make it twenty?" I wanted to shower up.
"Sounds good, man."
***
The profile had sold the guy short. He didn't look hotter than his pictures but as he ushered me in, he had a deep sexy voice. Almost gravely, with a New York accent. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and I could see how dense his muscle was on a frame that was about 6 inches shorter than mine.
"Looks like I hit the jackpot, huh?" he smiled. Then as his eyes swept up to my face, he added, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna gush. You know you're smoking hot."
OK, maybe JC was right, I could get used to the ego pump. With a grin I stepped up to the guy and wrapped my arms around his naked torso, drawing him in.
"I wasn't sure..." he started to say in his deep voice befor I cut him off with a kiss.
He was a good kisser. This was a hookup, just a hookup, and our making out wasn't romantic, but I really enjoyed this part of sex, and this man knew how to respond to my groove. His hands felt up my chest as he did his best to match my tongue work.
Maybe it had been so long since I'd had sex, but the feel of his bare skin and hard back muscle under my fingers had me rock hard. This guy wasn't my type, but he was masculine and real and he wanted me. I pulled off his towel and broke the kiss so I could reach down and paw at his thick ass. It wasn't a young bubble ass, it wasn't Kevin Murphy's kicker's ass, but this man went to the gym regularly and had for years.
"Yess.." he hissed.
I kneaded his ass for a minute longer then stepped back, in full ready to fuck mode. As I reached down and started undoing my shorts and kicking off my shoes, my trick looked at me with horny anticipation, his daddy dick hard and leaking, a solid six-incher that stood out from his trimmed but hairy crotch.
"I guess we didn't talk about specifics," he said, stepping back to the bed. "You a missionary or doggy position kind of guy?"
God, this was 180 degrees from my normal Grindr experience. I always met freaks who'd get real porny and weird, or I met guys who were bossy about their needs. This man had a fun laid-back vibe, even as we were getting to brass tacks.
Usually my answer would be missionary. "Doggy," I leered, letting my thick long cock fall out as I pushed my underwear down.
"Fuck," the daddy hissed. "You didn't exaggerate the measurements. Take it a little easy at first, then I'm good to go." I watched as he got onto the bed, on all fours. It was clearly the body of a man in his late 40s, but I was going to enjoy it all the same.
I got up on after him, letting the mattress sink with my weight. I'd hit almost 240 in college ball, and while I'd leaned down a little since then, I still was 230 pounds of tall muscle.
I remember one time I'd started eating out some model looking guy I'd hooked up with and he about freaked out, telling me he wasn't into getting rim. But as I kissed along this man's lightly furred ass cheeks, one side then the other, he spread his legs in an unmistakeable green light. I dove in and licked.
Fuck, this daddy loved it. I thought about what JC said. Masculine dudes with that drunk sorority chick worthy wild streak. He was some regular guy on business, and he was enjoying me eating him out and munching wildly at his clean pucker.
"Holy fuck, dude!" he growled, the deep voice making his words seem more sexual. "Eat my fucking hole."
I did. I wasn't even expecting an extended rim session for this. I almost thought it would be a pump and go, but I now rode the experience, gripping his cheeks, pulling them apart and tongue fucking this man who indeed was old enough to be my father.
I could have kept at it, too, but I needed to fuck. I leaned up, wiped off the spit from my chin and reached down to wet my cock.
"There's lube and condoms," he said, nodding to the night stand. "I'm on PREP so do what you want, man." Again, that deep voice had my balls twitching.
I slathered on some lube and lined up my bare prick. Daddy was gonna get raw dogged. I gave a two-mississippi pause then pushed to enter him.
There was some snugness at the ring but otherwise no real resistance. I popped in, making the man grunt a little, but he braced his upper body, took a deep breath, then nodded. I pushed my way all the way in, deep into his hot tightness. I forgot how amazing a good fuck felt. Bottoming out, I gripped his waist and began a slow pump.
"Jesus, you're a big boy," he grunted, excitement in his voice.
"6-four," I teased, now fucking him with firmer strokes.
"I meant your cock," the daddy said.
"I know," I hissed. "You're taking that big dick."
"Christ, man," he replied. "Fuck me! Fuck me big guy!"
I did. Getting more and more into it. I was enjoying this position of holding his waist and using that leverage to pull his leaner muscular build onto my hard pistoning cock as much as I was pushing into him. But as I got more excited and more into the mounting pleasure, I felt a need for something more animalistic. Leaning forward, I covered his back with my muscular chest and torso and just started hammering him with hard short strokes.
"Oh fuck oh fuck," he hissed. Loving it, but feeling the challenge of taking me that way, given my strength.
It wouldn't take long though. I now supported my weight with one arm while the other one wrapped around him, pulling his hard body next to mine for maximum contact and steady penetration.
He too was braced on one hand now while the jerked off to my inward strokes.
He came a second before me, but it was a photo finish. I let out a deep heavy growl and enjoyed the most amazing orgasm I'd had in a LONG time.
He finally withdrew his hand and let my weight push him down into a flat lying position.
"Am I too heavy?" I asked as I kissed his neck softly. I didn't want to pull out just yet, the aftershocks felt pretty amazing.
"I'm good," came that deep voice. "I like it, actually."
I kissed him more, along his neck. It's a weird thing of mine. Some guys lose interest after getting their nut, but I get in a real romantic headspace after cumming. It's freaked some men out.
Daddy picked up on it. "I thought you'd be a fuck and go kind of guy," he said with a soft laugh.
"Sorry," I said, pushing myself up off him some.
"Don't apologize, it's nice."
I ran my hand along the man's arm. Strong, not as big as mine, but there's something about an older man that meant more seasoned muscle. "I know this is just a hookup," I said. "I just like talking with a guy I have sex with. I'm weird, I guess."
He got quiet, but his reply felt calm and measured. "We can grab brunch if you like. I can learn more about the guy who just gave me the fuck of my life."
"Yeah," I said.
Now as we uncoupled and rinsed off in the bathroom before getting dressed again, I was having second doubts, and maybe I was leading him on too much. I absolutely didn't want anything serious with this guy. After today, I'd probably half forget him. This was just my hormones talking.
He seemed to read me. "You OK, man?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
He gave me an empathetic look. "Don't worry, I know I'm just a piece of tail to you. But I'm starving... why don't we get a bite and then you can get back to your bachelor party duties?"
I smiled. "Sounds good," I said. I stepped up and kissed him, softly. Wrapping my arms around his waist and enjoying the height difference.
"My name's Curt," he said.
"Brendan," I said.
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comradekatara · 10 days
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Genuinely asking—what changes would you make to the adult gaang designs? :)
this is such a fun question thank u for enabling me. i mean i draw them as adults sometimes so also check out my /oldergaang tag if u want visuals (altho i also change my designs a lot because my art is nothing if not inconsistent) but if i was just going with like standard character designs like if i could redesign that hideous “old friends” poster for example…
aang: get rid of that fucking. chinstrap. don’t give him white man features because what the hell is that. and let him wear his off the shoulder monk robes from book 3 because he was slaying with that fit. actually the way aang is drawn in imbalance is basically perfect i would retain that design into adulthood. thank u peter wartman for all that u do….
katara: i don’t mind the older katara design (from the little we see of it) but it’s also not nearly as cunty and slayful as i would like. katara is genuinely interested in fashion and loves experimenting with clothes and hair and makeup, i refuse to believe that as she ages and has more resources to tailor her style to her own personal tastes she wouldn’t get a little funky with it. like she kind of just looks boring and uninspired in her older design, and that’s unacceptable to me because she should be hot. adult katara should be the hottest woman you have ever seen in your life. and she should be buff, also. shredded, even.
toph: any signifiers of copness are obviously unacceptable to me. but even more that than, it’s very important to me that older toph is distinctly butch. i think she would cut her hair the second she realizes that there is no reconciliation to be found with her parents and that there is no reason to adhere to those confucian values. and she would wear a lot of sleeveless outfits (sort of like the shirt korra wears in “korra alone”) to show off her biceps and also space bracelet (spacelet) that is her prized possession forever. and she’s just kind of a hot hippie butch legend . period.
zuko: in the old friends poster he literally looks like a lizard so just like. no. wtf. and i like his long hair in theory but i don’t like that it’s styled after ozai and not ursa, i think his hair would be shwoopier and frame his face more. and his robes should be less spiky and militaristic and more designed for comfort because that’s what makes him feel most like his true authentic self and he deserves that. also weird for a guy who is trying to demilitarize the fire nation to wear an armor-adjacent type of outfit. so mainly he’d just look softer and more like his mom.
sokka: i hate buff goatee whitewashed sokka that is some kind of demon. lok did so little with him and yet said so much (all of it egregiously wrong, ofc). sokka would be fairly tall (although not as tall as aang) and have defined muscle but in a sinewy, lanky way. and despite always having enough to eat he’d still look somewhat malnourished just because he’s constantly overworked and exhausted and never takes care of himself. and his ponytail would be longer but he’d still shave the sides. and the older he gets the darker his clothes get until he basically just wears black all the time because at some point he realizes that it’s more advantageous to remain culturally ambiguous if he’s gonna be a cosmopolitan. and he wears glasses (which were a gift from kuei). and sometimes he uses a cane because he didn’t sufficiently take care of his broken leg after the war ended and now he’s paying the price for it. and his cane has a blade inside too, but he rarely ever even pulls out the blade because he can incapacitate someone with just a wooden stick anyway. so he looks like if a nerd was a shadow was about to collapse at any given moment was secretly ruling the entire world. and he’s not in any sort of front-facing position of power whatsoever but he’s actually pulling all the strings from behind the scenes, and it’s exhausting. his eyebags are visible from outer space.
suki: i don’t even think there is a “canon” adult suki character design besides her in her kyoshi warrior armor and makeup but to me casual suki just starts dressing more like sokka. like the loose baggy sleeveless shirts (except in a lighter shade of blue bc kyoshi island colors) and tight pants and boots. it’s a very dykey look already and they’re basically girlfriend twins so their styles would merge even more than it already has within the show itself. like sometimes people think that sokka and suki are siblings because they dress so similarly and give off such a similar vibe and they’re just like “but we’re literally different ethnicities??? and also we are currently making out????”
okay bonus round bc i can’t just neglect them
azula: she cuts her hair really short and as an adult leaves it to shoulder length for the most part because that’s more comfortable for her. like zuko, she also starts dressing for comfort, and for a period in her late teens stops wearing makeup altogether. she gets back into wearing makeup as an adult, but she stops caring about whether or not she leaves the house with lipstick on, and it becomes more about the process for her than the result. she’s comfy and cute and dykey.
mai: sokka is her lesbian style icon so after her first haircut that was inspired by toph’s haircut to piss off her parents, she gets an undercut and starts wearing her hair in a ponytail like sokka. as she gets older she also gets more confident in her body and doesn’t feel like she needs to wear baggy long-sleeved clothing at all times or she’ll die. and she isn’t rail thin as an adult either because she starts letting herself eat more than a single grain of rice at a time. also, she gets a sword.
ty lee: she becomes a kyoshi warrior so she starts incorporating more blues and greens into her wardrobe, but also more oranges and yellows after she embraces her air nomad heritage. and she just dresses very colorfully and has a vast rotation of different cute little outfits. and i think she’d also experiment with different hairstyles once she has the freedom to define herself outside of the aesthetics expected of her. she looks beautiful always
haru: he finally shaves that thang
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reysdriver · 4 months
Text
Mattress Acting | P.P.
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Day 8 of Kinktober: Photography/Sex Tape — peter x fem!reader
warnings: 18+, Minors DNI - smut, sex tape, slight exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, piv sex, creampie
words: 1.3k
a/n: I told yall im gonna stick to kinktober even tho its literally december! NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT??
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The idea had struck you both at the same time last night. When Peter had picked up his camera off his dresser as you were changing into your pyjamas. You heard the click sound of the shutter when you were pulling your shirt over your head, and you knew exactly what it was. 
After pulling off the piece of fabric, you saw your boyfriend standing against the wall with a cheeky grin on his face. 
“I’ll delete it, I promise.” He said, still smiling. 
“You don’t have to.” You told him. “I always like when you use me as a model.”
So now here you were, getting dressed up in your nicest set of sexy underwear while Peter was in his boxers, setting up his camera on a tripod beside your bed. 
Once you were done getting ready, you came out of the bathroom and called for Peter’s attention. He looked up at you with wide eyes. As much as you loved his flattery, you were excited to start and didn’t want to waste much time. 
“How’s the camera?” You asked, motioning to the stand. 
“All set up, everything looks good.” He answered. “I’ll press record whenever you’re ready.”
You smiled at him excitedly. “Let’s make a sex tape, then.”
He pressed the red button on the top of the device, then walked you back to the bed. He kissed you as he laid you back against the sheets, then softly pecked the crown of your head. 
“You’re gonna be a goddamn movie star, baby.” Peter told you, then returned to your lips as he laid atop you. 
His large hands started travelling all across your body. They started at your cheeks as he held your face close, then they started moving down. 
Then, at your chest, they cupped your breast over the bra and kneaded at the lush flesh. When he felt that wasn’t enough for him, he moved one of his hands to your back, and you arched for him, He easily manoeuvred the clasp open, and kept going how he was before. 
And finally, at your hips, he pulled you tightly against him, and you could feel his boner through his boxers. Unfortunately, with that and your panties, there were still two layers of fabric separating you from your boyfriend. Now that just couldn’t be anymore.  
Luckily, Peter seemed to share your sentiment because he hooked two fingers around your waistband and tugged slightly, wordlessly telling you to lift your hips. And you did, of course. You let him pull down your underwear, and he pulled away from the kiss so he could toss them aside. You watched as he discarded them in the direction of the tripod, and they fell to the floor after hitting the stand about a foot under the camera. 
Oh, that camera. You felt the same rush whenever Peter used you as the subject of his photography. In school, he went to you first for every photography assignment he could possibly fit you into—partially because he claimed you as his inspiration, and partially because he knew how much you loved it. 
You were pulled out of your haze when you felt Peter shifting his body down along the bed so he could hold his face between your legs. 
A swarm of butterflies rushed from your core into your stomach when Peter pressed that first warm kiss to your centre. As if your limbs were moving without you even thinking about them, your legs interlocked behind Peter’s back and your hands latched onto his soft hair. 
It seemed like he took your actions as a sort of motivation, he brought his mouth to your clit and began working it. You didn’t even have to perform for the camera; his kisses unleashed a perfectly pornographic moan from deep inside you. 
God, the way he knew how to please you with just his mouth was insane. Each and every movement of his tongue or his lips was just so amazingly perfect. 
You knew from the start that you wouldn’t last long, but when Peter just kept lapping at your pussy while using all the moves he had kept track of over the time you’ve been together because he knew they made you cum, of course the petit mort was almost here. 
Your vision quickly became dark and you started seeing stars. Your jaw fell slack and your hands gripped your boyfriend’s hair. It was almost unbelievable how good he was at this. 
And it wasn’t even close to over yet. 
“Pete.” You breathed. “That was amazing.”
“Just trying to put on a good show.” He shrugged. He was acting nonchalant, but you could see his smile peeking through his lips. 
He lifted himself up, and you could see his hard member straining against his boxers. It was definitely one of your favourite sights of all time. 
“You want me to help you with that?” You asked happily. 
And because you both knew what the answer was going to be, he just smiled back at you as he removed the little bit of fabric that was covering him. 
You dragged your fingers along your own slit, picking up some of your own slick to use as lubrication, then you brought your hand up to grasp his cock as he sat beside you. 
Peter inhaled deeply when you wrapped your hand around his dick, and his sounds of pleasure only increased in volume when you started to jerk him off. He definitely didn’t need the extra arousal—he was already hard as a rock from eating you out—but maybe you just wanted to build anticipation even more. 
After what you felt was a sufficient amount of strokes to move him along and raise lust, you sat up and nestled yourself onto his lap. You guided him to your pussy and sank down onto him. The stretch around him was so perfect; you and Peter were both audible in proving that. 
With hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, you started bouncing up and down on his cock. You kept riding your boyfriend, motivated by his sweet groans close to your ear, but the task was getting somewhat tiresome. Not that it wasn’t exciting, but you felt like your energy had been largely used up by Peter eating you out. 
And he clearly noticed this because he brought his hands up to your hips so he could do the hard work. He started lifting and lowering you for both your pleasures, and he did it brilliantly. 
You felt Peter gradually tense up, and you knew he was almost at his climax. He twitched once, then twice, inside of you before releasing pumps of cum inside of you. He kept using you for a few pumps after he was all done, then while still inside of you, he laid you on your back and pressed a series of soft kisses on the side of your neck. 
Once you had both cooled down, Peter slowly pulled out of you and reached over to the camera and stopped the recording before lying back down and cuddling with you. You hummed with his touch and thanked him quietly. He smiled back at you and interlocked your hands. 
“Can we watch it together tomorrow night?” You asked. 
Peter brought your hand up to his face and kissed it gently. “Of course. I’ll even promise not to touch the camera until then so I won’t see anything.”
He was too sweet. You pulled the duvet over the two of you and tucked the two of you in with the blanket.
He spoke up again. “And then I can even pick out the best shots, and we could get them framed and put them right up on the wall there.” He smiled and tapped the wall behind the headboard. 
You laughed along with him, but you weren’t entirely opposed to the idea. 
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hi! how are ya? I just drop in your blog and I just sooo in love! I was wondering if you could write hcs of dating Gwen stacy from spiderverse? thanks a lot!!!
(sure I can! I must warn you though this turned into a fic.)
Dating Gwen Stacy
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You guys met in her dimension
You guys had to be good friends before you guys even considered dating
It's either a slow burn, or a love at first sight she tried to avoid
I don't even think she knew it was love at first, she saw you, felt something and tried to stay away from it
But then she couldn't, and you guys took time to be one good friends
When she first noticed she had feelings for you it was awkward as hell
She didn't know what to do about them at all
Was staring at you as you talked, and tried to play it off laughing awkwardly when you caught her
But most of all she just wanted to be around you
Makes time the best she can even if it's for a little bit
When you guys did get together, it was hella awkward at first
She still didn't know what to do
It was a very slow process she needed to get comfortable with
But it was the absolute best when you guys got the hang of it
Cheek kisses, hand holding, regular kisses
I feel like she loves hugs from behind, especially surprise hugs because she instantly knows it's you
Doesn't matter who's hugging who from behind, she loves either way
She leaves a lot of clothes at your place
Because she is constantly doing quick changes she leaves clothes everywhere
You found out she was Spider-Woman
She did not want to tell you at all, especially because so many people thought she murdered Peter
So when you found out she was terrified, was about to leave as quickly as she could
She is the one to run away before she can get hurt, or leave before the chance to be hurt even comes around
You stopped her though, and she is forever grateful you did when you did
Cause she didn't know if she was even gonna come back
Sneaks into your bed after a fight as Spider-Woman
Or if something happened with her dad
She didn't talk, she just wanted to be by you in bed
She got so close to you every time because she wanted to know you would still be there when she went to sleep and woke up
There were very rare times she cried
But when she did, you were always there to hold her or comfort her or just be there while she cried it out
She secretly loved that
You guys are very much so teen love
You guys sneak out to see each other, run around the city, have no idea what you guys are doing most of the time but just glad to be together
Hiding out in abandoned places or on the rooftops of buildings are your dates
Or sometimes you guys will go to a cafe, but she likes small and little dates
A little hopeless romantic I'm not gonna lie
She can sit between your legs and have you play with her hair for solid hours
She remembers very small details about you
Like if you pick at your hands or nails, will hold your hands to help you out with that habit
You like some drink or some specific food?
She gets it for you everytime
Favorite color, animal, how you create to certain things, how you like your stuff arranged, she remembered every small detail
She is a very teasing partner
Doesn't outright say I love you even if she wanted to
It took a long time to say she did
Let's you steal her clothes while she steals yours
Your closets are just combined at this point
Will sit and let you mess around with her hair, she's just glad to stare at you with a smile when you do
Likes watching movies on the couch with you all the time
Movie marathons with just her head on your lap, laying down and you both throwing commentary at the screen
Kiss her forehead or her lips while her head is in your lap
Trust me. Do it.
Can talk about absolutely anything and everything with you
But the most important moments in your relationship are the quiet ones
Like when she shows up at your door, just standing there
Don't say anything and just take her in
Those are stuff that mean the most to her
You guys goof off constantly
Doing each other's homework in subjects one sucks in but the other is great in
You guys cannot take anything seriously
You were her absolute embodiment of her own vision of her own true love
She didn't think you would come along when she was going through tough times, but she's glad you did
She would've stayed with you forever
Would've
She had to leave you behind in her universe, she didn't want to, but with her dad, she did
She didn't see you for a long time, and your last goodbye wasn't meant to be a goodbye
She was in the Spider Society, and she refused to go back
One, because of her dad
And two, because she couldn't face you after leaving you behind with no warning for months
Until more shit went down with Miles, and Miguel sent her home
She had to face her dad, and she had to face you
You thought your eyes were failing you, dtsnding in your doorway.
You wanted to believe, you wanted to. You hoped for months this would happen, but once it did you couldn't move.
Gwen, your Gwen, stood in your room.
The Gwen you spent so long loving, comforting and holding when she and you both needed it.
The Gwen that left without a trace, with a goodbye that wasn't meant to be goodbye.
So you could only stare at her, watching her anxious face as you stared with a blank face, her eyes scanning you over in all the differences and similarities since she had left.
"I know. I know- it's bad." Gwen stumbled over her words, walking forward a step as she held her hands out.
"But- (Name)." Gwen tried once again, more panicked at your silence than your yelling or your words.
Gwen panicked even more as you finally moved, letting go of the door handle to walk closer to her.
"Look! I know you hate me, I would too!" Gwen kept talking, refusing to walk backwards as you got closer and closer.
"But I didn't mean to leave, honest!" Gwen stated, words faster and faster as you now stood right in front of her.
"Oh, come on! Say something!" Gwen exclaimed, your silence scaring her as you merely stared.
You stared right at her, never looking away as her face begged for you to say anything.
You merely sighed, a more angry and relieved one, quickly pulling Gwen into a hug, much to her shock, holding onto her like you would lose her.
Gwen froze, her arms frozen at her sides, hesitant to do anything as she felt your head in her neck, no sound but your breathing and no movement but the rising of your chest.
Gwen slowly, but surely wrapped her arms around your back, her own eyes filled with fear and somewhat comfort as she finally could hold and be held by you again.
"I thought you were dead." You finally spoke up, your words muffled by Gwen's shoulder.
"And I thought you would hate me." Gwen quipped back, holding the back of your head and her arm around your waist as she reveled in your touch.
"I do." You stared, both scaring Gwen and relieving her, knowing she deserved it, just confusing her too.
"Then why-" Gwen tried, confused as her words failed her, you pulled back from her hold slightly, able to look at her with more than a blank face.
"...I'm more happy you came back. I'll yell at you later." You stated, your eyes washing over her face, hesitantly reaching up a hand to hold her cheek.
You moved slow, Gwen noticed. Almost afraid and hesitant to touch her, like she was glass or that she would be gone when you did.
Gwen slowly nodded, sniffling herself as she couldn't help but give a small smile, her hand coming up to hold your wrist.
A lot of shit happened, Gwen knew that. And she didn't deserve to come back to you like nothing happened.
But Gwen needed you, she knew that.
And maybe, she would be selfish once.
Because she was back with you.
And Gwen missed you.
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thebestofoneshots · 7 months
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Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader
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Series Masterlist | Previous episode
Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6.1 K Warnings: none Prompt: The day after the race has you feeling sore, and after taking a potion to mitigate the pain, you ened up blabering a lot of your thoughts out in the world. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.
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ANOUNCMENT:
In a couple of weeks I'll make a Q&A to cellebrate Gilded Constellations reaching 100,000 words. And I'd love for all of you to be a part of it. So send in your questions, they can be anything you want, things like: How did you get the idea? Where does inspo come from? writing tips (I mean I don’t know much but anyway), character design, fancast, fav characters, things about me, about my plot notebook, literally anything you want, ask away (just state: For Q&A event or something) &lt;3
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Chapter 12: You really got me. 
October 4th, 1976 - Monday
On Monday you woke up early but you were sore. The fall from the broom had finally taken its toll on your body, and you pretty much dragged yourself to the bathroom to get changed for flying, or maybe to go to the infirmary first, you weren’t sure which one was going to be more relevant by the time you managed to walk down the stairs. 
You somehow changed your clothes and quietly walked downstairs. James and Sirius hadn’t come down yet, so you let yourself fall on the couch awkwardly. Looking at the faint stars you had placed on the ceiling a couple of weeks ago. 
“Morning (Y/N),” Said James from the stairs when he spotted you “Didn’t expect you to be here today.” 
You frowned at his words “What? Why wouldn’t I be?” 
He looked at you with raised eyebrows “Your broom?” 
You gasped at that. He was right, you didn’t have a broom. “It… It went completely past me, shit.” 
He smiled and sat on the sofa next to yours “Sirius said he’s gonna skip today, I thought I’d be flying alone.”  
“Is he feeling sore?” 
“He was complaining so much this morning I didn’t expect you to even come to class.” 
You laughed “I mean, I do feel like I’ve been hit by a truck but, flying always makes me feel better.”
“Why don’t you borrow his broom? I’m sure he’ll say yes.” James said, it was an excellent idea. 
“Do you think the rest’ll mind if I…” you stated, motioning upstairs with your finger. 
James shook his head “Nah, go ahead. Peter sleeps like a log, you won’t wake him even if you bang on the door, and Sirius and Remus are already awake.” 
You nodded, and walked upstairs, towards the boys’ room. Once in front of the thick wooden door you knocked on it softly “Come in,” you heard Sirius’ muffled voice, probably by a pillow. And so you carefully opened the door. 
“Morning,” you said when you saw Sirius laying on his bed, head still buried on his pillow. 
He turned his head around casually “Oh, morning love.” He said once he noticed it was you “What are you doing here? you should be in bed. Aren’t you in pain too?” 
Sirius Black was really chatty in the mornings. You nodded in response, “I wanted to fly still.” 
He arched an eyebrow “Can’t miss one day of practice?” 
You shook your head “The wind always makes me feel good.” 
He nodded “Why are you here then? Couldn’t bear to go without me?” He teased.
“You wish,” you replied with a smile “I came to borrow your–“ 
You started, but then their bathroom door opened wide and Remus stepped out. With his pants loosely hanging over his waist, and both of his arms holding the towel he was using to dry his hair, shirtless. And holy mother of Jesus, Remus Lupin was hiding real muscles under all those sweaters. You could see the gush he’d gotten the day you’d found him on the hospital, and he hadn’t been lying, he really did heal fast. He turned his back, you stared for a second as his muscles flexed. Minho wished he had that back, the girls have no clue or they’d be lusting over the sexy pirate here instead, you thought. But after the initial shock you realised he had many more scars there than over his face, you wondered how the hell he’d gotten so many cuts and made a mental note to ask him one day, when you were closer.  
When he turned again and saw you’d been there he looked like a deer trapped in the headlights. “Ugh– sorry.” You said and turned around quickly, facing the door “didn’t mean to– I was just here to borrow Sirius’ broom.” 
“It’s ok,” you heard Remus’ calm voice from behind you. He was in fact not ok, but he figured I’d be weird if a boy panicked over someone seeing his chest, so he played it cool. “I’m not naked or anything.” 
“Right!” You said turning back around, he was already buttoning his own shirt, “I’m ugh– happy you’re better,” you said, passing your hand over your chest so he knew what you were talking about, “I thought I’d take longer to heal.” 
“Moony heals fast,” said Sirius, finding a quick excuse for his friend. 
“And madam Pomfrey’s an amazing mediwitch,” Remus added. 
You nodded, “I’m actually going to see her before flying,” you told them “Hope she can get me some pain killer potion or something.” 
“You’re sore too?” Remus asked with concern. 
You nodded “Like I was thrown off my broom at incredibly high speeds and rolled on the ground several times, yeah…” You said ironically. 
“I think you meant: saved by an incredibly handsome wizard from being hit by a tree.” Sirius corrected, you chuckled “Moony’s got some though, right?” 
“Do you?” You asked, looking at the taller boy, who was now fumbling with his tie. He nodded absentmindedly as he struggled to get the knot right, he was still nervous about his scars. You smiled and pulled your wand out, pointing at his neck “Ligatura Cravatia,” you mumbled, his tie suddenly escaped from his fingers and tied itself neatly.
He looked at you surprised, “Thanks!” 
You nodded “I could not tie a tie for the life of me,” you mentioned casually “had to learn an easier way.”  
Remus nodded and leaned in to open a drawer from his side table, it was filled with potions and infusions, and he took out a small vial, of which there seemed to be many, and handed it over to you. “Take half of that now and half of it when you feel sore again,” he explained. 
You nodded, thanking him as you took it from his hands, Sirius spoke “You made me take the whole thing. It tastes awful!” 
“Yeah Sirius, you’re almost as big as me, (Y/N) is tiny. I’d be too much for her.” You frowned at that.
 Tiny?, you thought, It wasn’t your fault Remus was so freakishly tall. Average, at least.
“Hm…” Sirius responded unconvinced and then looked at you “It’s under the bed.” 
“What is?” You asked confused.
“My broom?” He said with a frown “maybe you really just came to see me,” he said with a charming smile. 
You laughed at his teasing “Wouldn’t you like that?” You told him before leaning down to grab his broom from under the bed. You spotted some cassette tapes on a small box there too and smiled. Of course Sirius would keep his music like that. When you finally stood up you smiled at him “Thanks Puppy, you’re the best!” You said as you stepped out of their room. 
“You owe me one!” He shouted as you closed the door, to anyone it may seem he meant for the favour, but you knew what he actually meant with that, which only made you smile to yourself. Once you were back downstairs you were already in a better mood than that of which you had woken up with. 
James had fallen asleep on the couch, so you nudged him awake and the two of you walked towards the courtyard. As you walked through the halls you pulled out the little vial and drank half of the liquid, as Remus had advised. You winced, Sirius wasn’t being overly dramatic, it truly tasted awful, bitter and it lingered, almost like earwax. 
“Oh, is that Moony’s get-better-soon potion?” James asked casually, taking it from your hands.
You nodded “He gave it to me, to help with the soreness.” 
James nodded and gave it back “Be careful where you put it, one time it broke over his clothes and he had to throw them away, no spell would remove the foul smell from it.” You nodded, placing it where you thought it’d be better off “What are you going to do about your broom?”
“I actually sent a letter home last night, I asked them to send me my old Viper, and I sent the Dark Nimbus bits to the factory, asking them if there was a way to fix it.” 
“That was actually a great solution, I was gonna offer you my Phoenix Blaze but your Viper probably has more stability, and you’ll need it, especially since you’re our star keeper.” 
You laughed “We haven’t even played an actual match and yet you call me that.” 
“I know talent when I see it.” 
You nudged him lightly with your elbow and the two of you laughed. James was just so likeable, even if he was a little arrogant, he was noble and kind, and you were so happy you’d made him your friend. The two of you reached the courtyard soon after and then you were in the air. James didn’t want to push you too much so instead of having you do standard exercises he decided to let you pretty much do whatever you wanted. 
And you just flew, doing some twirls and circles in the air, but nothing too crazy. You loved the feeling of the air hitting your face, and the wind blowing all around you. Today was particularly windy, so you decided to fly even higher than you had before and allowed yourself to bask on the sun above the clouds. Once James realised how far up you were, he quickly caught up with you. “You alright?” He asked. 
You opened your eyes and turned to him, nodding “Just enjoying the day.” You told him “It’s a beautiful day…” 
You looked so at peace, almost too at peace. And then he remembered the effect the potion had once had on Remus, the time he took it on an empty stomach, it dumbed him out until he fell asleep in the middle of his favourite class, you didn’t look far from that, so he urged you to come down “I think we should probably go back down,” he said. 
You shook your head “But it’s so nice here, James.” 
“We’re definitely coming back down,” he said then, and flew closer to you, grabbing your arm and dragging you behind him towards the floor. Once close to the courtyard he let you land by yourself, and you checked your wrist watch.
“It’s still early.” 
“Yeah, we need to get you some food,” he told you, and the two of you walked towards the Great Hall. Only a couple of people were there so early. You sat down on the spot closest to the door and placed both of your elbows on the table, leaning your chin against your hands, and stared absentmindedly to the food. James grabbed some oatmeal and served it on a plate, dropping strawberries and other blueberries on them. Then he placed the plate in front of you. “Eat up,” he said. 
You looked at the food he’d placed and nodded, grabbing a spoonful and slowly bringing it all the way to your mouth “Thanks James,” you mumbled once you swallowed “you even added the fruit I like.” 
James nodded, as he served himself some eggs “Remus was telling me the other day that you almost always exclusively grab strawberries and blueberries.” 
“Mhm,” you agreed. “Remus is very observant, and strong.” 
James frowned “He’s what?” 
“Like really strong, under all those layers he wears, I didn’t know, but today I found out…” you said casually, only later realizing what you’d said “What the fuck did I just say?” 
James just laughed and decided to tease you for it “Merlin (Y/N)! Don’t thirst over my friends when I’m around.”
“I… I wasn’t– I didn’t… What the flipping hell did he make me drink?” You asked, placing your hands over your dizzy head and leaning in on the table. 
“It’s because you haven’t eaten.” He told you “You’d be surprised what he said that one time,” James said, recalling how a couple of years ago Remus had gone on and on about the colour of Sirius’ eyes. 
You looked at him, took a deep breath and started to gobble up your food, which just caused your friend to laugh even further as he casually plopped some bacon into his mouth. 
Remus and Peter arrived a couple of minutes later, and you buried your head in your second serving of oatmeal when you spotted the taller boy. Remus sat in front of you and Peter by his side. 
“You didn’t warn her to eat it before taking it,” James told Remus reproachfully. 
“Fuck,” he whispered in response. 
“You’re fucking lucky she was flying with me and not by herself.” He said again, James was surprisingly stern about it, and it wasn’t because you were his star keeper or his cyrano, but he’d genuinely grown fond of you, and he already considered you a friend, as much as he considered Mary or Marlene friends, maybe more, since you were a lot closer, and if James Potter was something, it was fiercely protective of his friends.  
Remus swallowed, James was right, he’d put you in danger. And all because he was so nervous about being shirtless and the fact that you’d seen all his scars “I’m sorry,” he said and placed a hand over your arm “You feeling alright?” 
You looked at him for a second, gaze lingering on his hands before  nodding and going back to your meal as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. James couldn’t help the diverted smile that slowly appeared on his face. 
Remus noticed, of course he noticed, “Oh… she started talking…” He acknowledged, finally taking his hand from your arm. 
James just laughed, remembering the confidence that you’d used to call his friend strong and took another bite of his bacon  “at least she didn’t talk about Sirius.” 
Remus looked at him mortified, but you didn’t notice, you were too busy looking at Lily and Beth who had just walked in “They have such stunning hair,” you said casually as you saw the different shades of red the girls had, but straightened up after, and sighing with a little frown, gobbling your food again “How much longer?” You complained. 
“I mean you’re not wrong,” James agreed, looking at Lily with heart-eyes “Remus was like that for a couple of hours…” 
“Hours?!” 
“I can take her to the common room,” Peter offered “We’ll tell Flitwick she’s still feeling bad about the fall, like Sirius, and he absolutely loves her anyway, pretty sure it won’t affect her grades.” 
“But class!” You said looking up from your food. 
“Sirius can take care of her,” Remus added, “it was his idea to give her the draught anyway.” 
“Sirius? No way! The things I’d say to Sirius in this state!” You complained, already thinking of how his hair was so bouncy and soft when it brushed over your face. “He’d have material to tease me for the rest of my life, and my afterlife.” 
James snorted at your words, coughing it out and cleaning his face with a handkerchief he had on his robe’s pockets. Perhaps it would actually be good to take you to the common room with Sirius, maybe you’d finally be able to admit your feelings for each other, he thought. Little did he know you’d done it the previous day “It’s a good idea.”
You shook your head distressed, but he was already helping you stand up. Peter had already run to the other side of the table. 
“Can you deal with her?” Remus asked him, “I can take her if not.” 
You looked at Remus and remembered all the things you could’ve said and stood straighter “I can deal with myself,” you said and motioned for Peter to come beside you.
Minutes later, you were walking through the halls alongside Peter “What did you say before we arrived?” He asked you casually. 
You sighed “Something along the lines of Remus is fucking ripped under all those sweaters.”
He laughed at your answer, you didn’t even mention Remus’ scars, which made him smile, since he knew how self-conscious his friend was about them. 
“Do we have to go to the common room?” You asked him “Or maybe you can leave me there but not tell Sirius about it.” 
Peter shook his head as an answer “What bothers you so much about being left with Sirius? Thought you guys were friendlier after he saved you.” 
“I’ve got nothing against Sirius. On the contrary, I actually really like him. That’s the problem, who knows what I might say when he’s in front of my face.” 
Peter laughed again “I’m sure he won’t put it against you, after all, you already talked about Remus’ abs and Lily’s hair, It’s just the medicine.” 
“Peter, you know Sirius.” 
He sighed at that and then shrugged “We’ll obliviate him if he gets too annoying.”
You looked at Peter with shock and laughed when you saw the little smile playing on his face. He was joking, who knew he had such a dark humour hidden in all his soft boy persona? To be fair, Peter had always been extremely nice to you and everyone you knew, he also had many friends from all around the school, perhaps more than James and Sirius, since they really liked hanging out with one another. “You’re still planning a prank?” You asked. 
“We’ve got something on the back burner,” he told you “but we’re not gonna do it yet, since James got detention after the race.” 
You nodded at that, by then you were just outside of the common room, he whispered the password to the portrait and the two of you walked inside. You let yourself fall on the couch as he went to get Sirius.You buried your head under a pillow, maybe if you were asleep, you wouldn’t be able to run your mouth and say embarrassing things about Sirius’ soft lips or his strong jawline.
A couple of minutes later they both came walking down the stairs, Sirius was the first one to speak “Peter says no one told you to eat before drinking the draught.” He said as he approached you. You made a muffled sound from underneath the pillow in response.
“Well then, take care of her, yeah?” Peter said before waving goodbye to his friend, “See you later (Y/N)!”
“Bye Peter, thanks for bringing me here!” You said, voice still muffled by the pillow you refused to remove from your face. If you did not see Sirius maybe you wouldn’t remember how pretty he was. 
As Peter left, Sirius walked closer to you, raising an eyebrow when he spotted you still hiding under the pillow still “The light bothering you love?” He asked politely, “We could go up to my room, it’s darker when we close the blinds.” 
“Mm-mm,” you denied, refusing to even open your mouth in case you let something slip. 
Sirius, being oblivious to why you were being so hell bent in hiding your pretty face under a pillow, sat down on the floor to level his head to yours as much as possible, a soft groan left his lips as he hit the floor. You winced when you figured how close he was. He leaned his arm on the couch, next to where yours was and started to absentmindedly play with the hem of your sweater, “Are you upset about something? Did something bad happen?” He asked gently. 
You finally removed the pillow from your face with a frown and shook your head fervently. 
He raised his eyebrows at your reaction. You opened your mouth to speak and closed it again shortly after, frowning at your lack of conviction. That made him narrow his gaze, and a teasing smile drew from his face, “Oh you were saying stuff, weren’t you?”
Your eyes widened in surprise, he was quick to catch on. 
“Did you talk about my pretty eyes like Moony did?” You shook your head in response, “Oh, then… Did you talk about someone else instead? Should I be jealous about it?” You gave him a reproachful look and he laughed, such a melodious laugh, you thought, almost slapping yourself when you were about to open your big mouth and go running all your thoughts to Sirius. 
“So what? You won’t open your mouth in case you say something silly?” You nodded. He laughed again, had his laugh always been so pretty? “But I’ll get bored if you say nothing!” He pouted “How was your morning flight? Made you feel better?” You nodded with a smile, finally sitting back on the couch, grabbing his arm and pulling him up to sit beside you, he complied, and the two of you sat on the couch together, shoulders brushing against the other. Sirius let his head fall, and slid down a little “You’re really not gonna talk?” He asked, turning his head towards you. 
You took a deep breath “Whatever I say may be used against me, so no.” you replied. 
“What if I promise I won’t use it against you? Even if you start talking about something silly like how pretty you think Moony’s left hand is.” 
You laughed at that, Sirius wasn’t wrong there either, Moony’s hands were very strong and dextrous, you recalled a particular day, in potions, when he’d gotten bored as you carefully measured some of the ingredients on the only balance that the table had, and he’d started twirling his wand around with remarkable ease. 
“Oh no, you’re thinking about Moony’s hands now, aren’t you?”He asked when he saw your thoughtful expression. 
“I wasn’t!” You said, a little too fast.
Sirius shook his head, diverted and placed his left hand over yours, “Think of mine instead,” he said casually, as if he didn’t realise he was making your heart beat faster.
Now you smiled “Jealous, are we?” You asked as you started to play with his hand, brushing your fingers over the soft skin of his palm. Sirius’ hands felt much softer than you imagined Remus’ would. He had long, slender fingers, and he didn’t even have the callouses that you get for quidditch, he probably used expensive potions when he lived back at the Blacks. His rings were cold in comparison to his warm skin, it was nice, awfully nice.
“Of Moony?! He isn’t your type.” He responded confidently. 
“How would you even know my type?” 
Sirius smiled at the question as If he was just waiting for you to ask it, he leaned in, so close his beautiful hair brushed against your shoulders, and then he whispered “That’s easy love, it’s because I AM your type.” Then, he placed a soft kiss on the side of your cheek.
You pushed him back playfully and smiled when you saw his shit-eating grin “You keep believing that, all right Puppy?” You said as you pinched one of his cheeks, not that there was much to pinch, the boy had the facial structure of a woodland elf. 
“Hm…” he said as he pushed your hand off his face and intertwined his fingers on yours “That makes it two.” 
You laughed “You’ll keep count?”
“Obviously, gotta make sure my girl pays her debts.” 
My girl, you thought, you were indeed Sirius’ girl now. 
“We’ve got time now, perhaps we can reset the debt?” You asked with a suggestive smile, but Sirius simply shook his head.
“You’re high on painkillers.” 
You pouted, “I’d want to kiss you even if I wasn’t?” you said reproachfully.
Sirius, saw that as an opening, and leaned closer to you “Would you? Tell me about it.” 
“I wanted to kiss you when we didn’t see each other for years, and then when I was back and saw you, all grown up, I wanted to kiss you again, and then yesterday when we actually kissed, I wished we could’ve continued on forever.” Sirius smiled brightly, at least it wasn’t only he who felt that way. But when you saw his reaction you clasped your hand over your mouth “What the fuck did I just say?!” 
Sirius shrugged “The truth.” 
You shook your head “No-no! That was the potion,” you argued.  
Sirius shook his head with a smile “I don’t think so.” 
“Sirius!” 
“You’re madly in love with me, just accept it,” he said cockily.
You grabbed the pillow from earlier and groaned into it in frustration as you leaned over your lap. All you had to do was keep your big mouth shut, but you didn’t, and now Sirius would be able to tease you for the rest of your life. 
Sirius smiled and placed a hand over your shoulder, leaning in a little before he spoke “If it makes you feel better, I feel the exact same way.” 
You stood straight in an instant, disbelief all over your face as you searched for Sirius’ eyes, trying to find an ounce of doubt, of a joke, but… there wasn’t any “But the potion didn’t–“
“No, I had an apple before Moony threw it down my throat,” he said, and shrugged “I just wanted you to know, you’re not the only one who feels that way.” 
You smiled and leaned in towards him, hiding your blush over his shoulder, so many emotions piled up inside you didn’t even know what to do with them. All you knew was that you liked Sirius so much it bothered you. Why was he so damn adorable? How could he be so pretty and manly at the same time? Fucking Sirius Black, he had you, and he had you bad.  
As you leaned into Sirius, savouring his scent, which you could only describe as a mix of leather, firewood and musk, you suddenly started feeling very sleepy. A yawn escaped from your lips, and Sirius looked at you knowingly “Are we already at the point in which you fall asleep? But we were having such a pleasant conversation.” 
“Shut up Puppy!” you said softly.
Sirius smiled, leaning back so you could both get more comfortable “That’s three.” 
Mary, who had gotten out of charms earlier after Tom accidentally burned the sleeve of her robe, was the first person to enter the common room, finding you and Sirius cuddling into each other, both asleep. She smiled, and after casting a silencing charm around the two, so you wouldn’t be awoken, ran upstairs to grab Marlene’s Polaroid. Once she was back down she took a couple of pictures of the two, and a selfie, with her in the middle. After she stood back, snickering at the pictures as she went back upstairs to finally change her burned robes.  Priorities, she thought as she left the camera over Marlene’s bed and went to change. She then wrote a note, kindly asking the laundry elves to repair her robe for her, and placed it over her now neatly bent robe. 
She walked downstairs a little later, and after considering whether to wake you or not for a minute, she decided against it. After all, you both looked quite comfortable, and the nasty fall the two of you had the previous day wasn’t something you could just shrug off easily. Sometimes sleep really was the best medicine. 
A few hours later, when it was finally meal time, and you and Sirius had still not shown up in any class, Remus decided he’d go get you some food at the kitchens. The elves were as kind as ever with him, and once he had enough food for the three wrapped up, he walked up towards the common room. On the way there he bumped into Nina, who smiled at him brightly and waved before approaching him “You’re not going to the Great Hall?” She asked. 
Remus shook his head in response “I’m taking some food up for Sirius and (Y/N), they were feeling a little tattered after the fall.” 
Nina’s expression turned into one of concern “Is she all right?” 
Remus nodded, “She took some painkillers in the morning, she should be feeling a lot better by now. She may even make it to her next class,” he said, “Although, she may not actually want to, since we have Herbology…”
Nina laughed, after spending so much time with you on the rest of the study club, she was more than aware of your quarrel with Herbology, not because you didn’t like plants, but in your own words, because they didn’t like you. “Here, give her this for me, will you?” She asked, pulling a chocolate frog from her pocket and handing it over to Remus. “I told her about them a couple of weeks ago, and she said they seemed interesting, I was going to give it to her after the race.” 
Remus raised one of his eyebrows, he wasn’t sure when you and Nina had gotten so chummy with each other “Sure thing,” he replied and took the Chocolate Frog from her hand and placed it in his robe pocket. 
Nina waved goodbye to him but stopped him by grabbing his arm just before he managed to get too far. “I was forgetting, tell her we will have a book club reunion in the Ravenclaw tower by the end of the month. We’re talking about the romance novel I lent to her recently.” 
“Which romance novel?” Remus asked. 
Nina raised her eyebrows as she heard the question, and then seemed to think about it for a second before responding “It’s not apt for boy’s eyes,” she said with a little smile before waving goodbye to Remus rapidly “Anyway, thanks Remus, see you around.” 
Remus looked at Nina leave with a puzzled expression, he shrugged and continued on his way to meet you and Sirius. Once he was in front of the portrait, he whispered the password and she let him inside.  When he walked in he spotted both you and Sirius, still asleep, basically cuddling each other. He stared at the two for a minute, he found the scene endearing, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy float over his heart. He wasn’t sure if he wanted what the two of you had, if he wanted one of you, or if he’d rather be part of it, but he decided to push those thoughts to the back of his head, after all, it was probably Moony the one that was causing all those weird mood swings. 
“Morning sleepy heads,” he said as he got close enough for the two of you to hear him. Sirius was the first one to wake up, lazily opening one of his eyes and smiling when he saw his friend. 
“Hey Moony, lovely to see your ugly face first thing,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. 
“Haha,” Remus said as he sat on the armchair on the left side. “Good thing I don’t measure my worth on your opinion Pads.”
“What are you talking about? Moony’s got a pretty face,” you mumbled still half asleep. 
Sirius’s eyes widened at your words and Remus laughed in return, “Maybe you just need to improve your taste,” Remus said as he leaned forward and placed the food on the table in front of you, “Brought you two some food.” 
That finally woke you up, your stomach already rumbling at the lack of sustenance. You stood up, feeling a lot better than earlier, head clearer, you no longer felt the urge to tell Sirius how pretty he was, which was fantastic. When you saw the food you smiled “Gosh, thank you Rem, you’re such a sweetheart!” 
“See? That’s how you should greet your friends,” Remus said motioning towards you “You should ask her to teach you some manners.” 
Sirius sighed, and then smiled “Thank you, oh beautiful lord Moony for bringing food over to us!”
Both you and Remus laughed at his silliness. You slid off the sofa and onto the rug and pulled out some of the food Remus had brought, he’d somehow gotten the elves to make him roast beef sandwiches. “Roast beef? That’s brilliant!” You said as you gave your first bite, moaning as the flavour sipped in through your tastebuds. 
Remus also slid from the armchair and grabbed for one of the sandwiches. Sirius was the last one to follow suit. Once he gave a bite, he leaned back, “Didn’t even realise how hungry I was,” he said. “Thanks Moony.” 
Remus hummed in response and then remembered the errand Nina had asked for him, so he pulled out the chocolate frog and handed it over to you. 
“What? No chocolate frog for me?” Sirius complained playfully. 
“No because you’re a twat,” Remus said calmly, Sirius looked at him taken aback. “Besides the chocolate frog’s not from me, it’s from Nina.”
“Who’s Nina?” Sirius asked as he took another bite from his sandwich.
“Member of (Y/N)’s fan club.”
“Nina isn’t a member of my fan club!” You said after you swallowed the bite you were chewing “I mean… I don��t have a fan club!” 
Sirius was the one to laugh now “Yeah sure, tell that to all the people wearing pins with your head on it and holding banners yesterday.” 
Remus nodded “At some point, I even considered the fact that you somehow became more popular than James.” 
You shook your head “You boys, it’s all in your head. I’m not popular, just the shiny new thing everyone’s talking about because I transferred recently.” 
Sirius took a bite from some dried jerky before pointing at you with it “It’s like you don’t want to admit you’re popular.”
“‘Cause I’m not.” 
“But you tick all the boxes,” Sirius retorted “Attentive, nice, talented at something most people are passionate about at school.” 
“Not to mention you’re helping younger students at the study club. And you’re pretty,” Remus said casually. Sirius nodded, in agreement. 
“Well… I–“ you started. 
“Just accept it, darling,” Sirius said, placing an arm over your shoulder. “We’ll be the school’s celebrity couple once word gets out.” 
“Word?” Remus asked with a frown. 
“We’re dating.” Sirius stated “Right love?” 
“I mean… we snogged yesterday, I didn’t know you were so eager to make it official.” 
Remus laughed at that, Merlin, was it fun to see Sirius put in his place by you. “Congratulations?” 
“Well thank you Moony!” Sirius said with a smile. The three of you continued to hang out until you finished your meal. When you were done you decided you were not going to skip more classes and walked alongside the two boys to the Herbology greenhouses.  
On your way, you stopped to take a look at the forest, “The night I came with Lily, to harvest the stuff for potions, I swear I heard howls coming from the forbidden forest.” Sirius and Remus gave a look at each other as if only now realising what Moony was so hell-bent on achieving that night. You didn’t notice, since you were leaning on one of the nearby arches, your back facing them. You breathed in the fresh air “Sometimes I miss being able to walk through the forest, I wish it wasn’t forbidden.” 
Sirius walked in closer to you and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you back on the way, “It’s forbidden for a reason, monsters roam there.” He said. 
You laughed “As if you ever cared about dangerous.” 
“Pads is right,” Remus continued “The forest… It’s not something you should mess with.” 
“So you’re telling me, you’ve NEVER EVER gone into the forest?” You asked in disbelief. 
“We have,” Remus acknowledged, “That’s why we know it’s no place for you.” 
“Because I’m a girl?!” You asked, clenching your jaw as you did. 
“Because you’re a human.” Sirius punctuated. 
You frowned at that, you were so used to being looked down on by boys that you assumed Sirius and Remus were doing the same thing. But they were not, in fact, they had never even tried to. They both thought you were as capable as any man, heck, maybe even more capable than most men. They would never look down on you like some boys back in your old school, the same boys that hadn’t let you in the quidditch team for years because you were a girl, it had taken a teacher’s intervention for you to finally be allowed to join in. James, on the other hand, hadn’t even thought twice before asking you to the tryouts. Hogwarts was different. Your friends were different. 
You sighed “If only I was something else,” you said, a knowing smile growing on your face as you did. Neither of the boys quite understood what you meant, but that was fine. They did not need to know every single detail about you, at least not yet. Especially Sirius, he did not need more material to tease you.
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spiderfunkz · 6 months
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hi!
okokokok, what about the reader completely friend-zoning peter.
like peter is completely infatuated with nad tells her that he really likes her, but the reader's like "aww i like you a lot too! your like a brother to me"
basically the reader is oblivious to the fact that peter parker has a massive crush on them. :)
no pressure obviously but i just think that would be rly cute,
luv ya!
-victoria
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✧.* STUCK BY THE GLUE.
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— summary : peter was confessing his love to you, though you didn't quite get the message.
— word count : 0,6k
— warnings : all fluff, oblivious!reader, teasing, friends to lovers, cheesy confessions, a kiss, happy ending because i'm soooooooo nice😝😝😛😛😛
a/n : i did gn!reader btw i hope thats ok!!!! some of the confession stuff are inspired by beabadoobee lyrics.
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"what about.. number 13?" you ask.
you and peter have just finished a long week of tests. which means you now have to bombard peter with thousands of questions about his answers.
"uh, i answered b. i think." he replies, unpacking the books from his bag.
you blink, you were pretty sure you answered d. and knowing peter answered b, you were pretty sure you got that one wrong.
"do you think mr. anderson will still give me a point? because a 'd' is basically a 'b' but backwards." you explain.
"maybe, mr. anderson will probably give you a pity point." he replies, still unpacking the books from his bag. you were sitting on the edge of his bed, "i don't think mr. anderson is capable of feeling pity for anyone."
"don't think about it too much. i think you did good on your tests. i mean, you did have the best tutor." he smiles — "oh yeah! how could i forget, jimmy neutron is my tutor."
"okay. rude." he puts his hand on his chest, letting out a dramatic gasp. "what? you have brown hair, you make weird gadgets, and you're abnormally smart." you shrug.
"that's bullying."
"is calling people smart bullying now?"
"when you say it, yes. you're lucky i love you." he sits next to you.
you smile at the L word. though you were 100% sure he meant it platonically. that's what friends do, right?
"you're not gonna say it back?" he pouts.
you laugh, jokingly. but peter didn't.
"oh don't take it to heart, pete."
"can i tell you something?" his heart was racing, "yeah, of course. are you okay?" he seemed tense all of the sudden.
"there's no other way of saying this really. but i like you. a lot." he pauses, "i have never known someone quite like you. you're so pretty it actually hurts." he stutters. a lot.
"i'm having trouble finding the words for this, yet the words to describe you aren't so hard to find. you're like a fresh breath of air. like a shot of espresso. like a cold wind on a hot summer day. you're like a ribbon, laced around a braid." he rambles, "and i really, really like you."
you can't even process whatever he just said. you're not sure how to respond to any of that.
but for whatever reason, your brain can only come up with one response.
"aw, peter. i like you a lot too!
you're like a brother to me."
and with that peter's face looked like a ghost. he just poured his entire heart only for you to completely friend-zone him.
"is something wrong?" you ask.
"you did not just pull that card on me."
"what card?"
peter sighs, covering his face with his hand in utter embarrassment.
"oh." you realize. "let's just forget everything i just said. anyways, what did you get for number 16?" peter changes the topic.
"peter-"
"or maybe number 15? i heard gwen say that was the hardest question."
"peter!"
"or number 3? have you asked me about number 3 yet? i can explain number 3 to you."
he won't listen, so you shut him up,
by kissing him.
now, you aren't doing this because you feel bad. but you truly do have feelings for peter. you don't know why it took peter to finally confess to you for you to realize. but you do. you really do.
"now can you please just listen."
peter's cheeks were bright red, he nodded.
"i really like you too peter and gosh, i wish i realized sooner." you were struggling to find the right words to continue, just like peter did a few minutes ago.
"i like you. i like your messy brown hair, i like your weird gadgets and when you ramble about them, i like how caring you are and how patient you are all the time with me."
"and i love you too."
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algea · 1 month
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soooo…
Lars Pinfield.
yeah he can be a massive prick and has said a few mean things to you in the past, but since you've been gone Lars has seemed to lighten up. That was, until you came back.
you always thought Lars was attractive, but you never truly were attractive until you came back after you graduated college. Winston let you hang around the lab to assist your dad in work, so you saw Lars almost everyday. That was, until you went off to college and got an internship with a company that worked with unusual deaths and phenomenons. That sent you away for about 6 years, but you always kept in touch with your father, Ray, Winston, and Phoebe. After 6 years, someone can really change. And that’s what you did. You matured and grew, creating a strong, independent individual. You halfway hoped didn’t expect that Lars was going to be there. You walked through the old aquarium’s hall, silently freaking out. You stood at the door, questioning whether you should actually enter the room.
“you going in or just gonna stand there like a statue?” You heard a girls voice ask. You turn to see a girl with white dreads standing behind you. “I’m just uh…I’m just indecisive.” You reply, giving a half smile.
“about what?” She asks.
“well, I haven’t been back in 6 years, so it’ll be weird for everyone.” You mutter, fidgeting nervously.
“I’ll walk in with you so it makes less of a scene, is that ok? I’m Lucky, by the way.” Lucky smiled.
“Y/N.” You replied back, shaking her hand. She swiped her keycard and the doors opened. Through the slight mist the doors emitted, you could make out the vastly changed lab. Lucky patted your shoulder and led the way. You first searched for your dad, whom you spotted in his office. You walked up to the window and looked through at him, waiting a few seconds before he recognized who you were. Peter rushed to the door and flung it opened, attacking you with a big bear hug. You laughed and hugged him back, a few tears slipping through your eyes.
“I’ve missed you so much dad. I wish I could’ve talked to you every single day.” You cried.
“I know. I mean who wouldn’t want to talk to me everyday, I'm just SO awesome." Peter replied. You scoffed and grinned. You pulled away from your dad and glanced around the room. After briefly scanning, your eyes settled on a man with blond hair, looking intently at a computer.
"Is that...?" You whisper to your dad, quietly motioning towards the man.
"Who? That nerd? Yeah, that's him." Peter confirmed, rolling his eyes slightly. You felt your cheeks heat up at the comment and a bashful smile ghosted your lips.
"Go talk to him." Peter said, giving you a wink and walking back into his office. You turned and combed your fingers through your hair, making sure it looked ok before you talked to him. You were nervous. So so nervous. You combed your hands through your hair a few times, making sure you looked fine. Finally, you started slowly walking towards him.
He was so engulfed in whatever he was doing, it was almost cute when he muttered to himself whatever he was calculating. You really didn't want to disturb him. You really just wanted to turn around and walk right out because you were so nervous as to how he would react.
"Oh, who are you? Why are you in here?" You heard him call. You frozen in place, heartbeat racing. You turned to him and said,
"Hey Lars.."
Lars' eyebrows knit together, lips parting in confusion.
"You really don't remember me? It's only been 6 years." You mutter, fidgeting with a button on your sleeve while looking down at the ground.
"Oh, my God. Is that you, Y/N?" Lars whispers. His blue eyes search your face, finding familiarities that he once saw before. He slowly stood, setting down the goggles he had in his hand. He made his way to stand in front of you, his frame towering down over you. He hesitantly reached up, the tips of his fingers brushing under your jaw.
"You got a lot less ugly." He stated. You sighed, dropping your head slightly.
"I don't mean that in a bad way at all." Lars quickly explained, tipping your head to look back up at him. This moment of softness was immediately replaced with insults as he slipped his hand to your neck and kissed you. You felt insulted because he didn't do that until now. Why, why didn't he do it until now? It was unfair how he had the ability to do it, but you felt stupid and weak because you couldn't ever tell him how you felt. But at that moment, you felt so insulted that you enjoyed it. It was perfect, even though you were probably being watched by the rest of the entire staff there, it was perfect.
"Yeah, well the universe doesn't revolve around you." You mutter, wrapping your hand softly around his wrist.
"I'd rather it not because then I'd have to deal with you all the time." Lars smiled, brushing his lips against yours softly one more time.
"Whatever, but you still owe me an apology for being so mean to me before." You snickered.
"Sorry, I don't hand out free apologies like that." He scoffed, sitting back down. You were ok with that because you had secretly forgiven him. In the background, Ray was sighing and handing Peter a $20. What could've been better? Busting ghosts by yourself, or busting ghosts with a hot nerd (I'd choose the latter)?
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corinthianism · 1 year
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labyrinth | peter parker
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pairing: peter parker (andrew garfield)/gn!reader additional tags: fluff, meet cute warnings: referenced character death (gwen), angst
summary: peter finds love again nearly a decade since gwen's death. note: this is like. a brain fart. i barely proofread this so like i'm just gonna HOPE it's not complete ass. happy reading!
The air was already biting cold in November. Peter had been sitting on the same bench for about an hour now, orange leaves clinging to his coat. Every so often, he would break out of his trance to brush them off. Gwen had gotten it for him on their first Valentine’s Day together after she saw him wearing one of his uncle’s old ones. She joked about how it made him look like he was hiding little packets of crack in his pocket. His lips twitched into a smile before he inhaled deeply, trying to remember the sound of her laugh. The real sound of her laugh, not the one that crackles through the speakers of his old laptop whenever he missed her. It’s been that long. He was always terrified he’d forget her: how her eyes twinkled when she learned something new, how her hair always seemed to be perfectly in place, or how her scent took over his room after every visit.
There were days when he couldn’t even get out of bed, too consumed by his grief to move a muscle. On the flip side, there were days when he could feel like himself again. Days where he allowed himself to smile and just be the nerd he’d always been. He knew it was what Gwen would’ve wanted. By some miracle, it was what she fell in love with. She loved Peter Parker and that was the only reason he had to not lose himself as Spider-Man. Despite it all, he found it got easier with time. It was easier to live with himself now. It was easier to accept that it wasn’t his fault. Four years has passed since her death and he was just barely accepting it still, but it didn’t hurt so much anymore.
It was rare for him to have the time to just go out and enjoy what the city had to offer. New York could be a real piece of work: that was evident from just how much Spider-Man had to deal with in the past few months, but it was home. Central Park was a place he hadn’t visited in a while, so he tried to not dwell in his thoughts too much and enjoy the rare opportunity. Admittedly, there wasn’t much to do but people-watch, but it was a nice change of pace for Peter. With how hectic things were at work on top of his responsibilities as a vigilante, he was exhausted. He was tired of being Peter Parker. It was nice to just be invisible for once. 
He snorted. If middle-school Peter heard that, he would’ve been firmly smacked on the head by his younger self. He always wanted to fit in with the cool kids back then. He achieved that to some degree. Sure, he was more well-known as a dweeb rather than a cool guy, but he was still well-known. Even now, he realized his desires didn’t change all that much. It’s just that this time, he wished he could have a house and a dog and a proper job and be friends with normal people. Instead, he was still renting an apartment in a less-than-ideal part of town that he could barely keep. Before he could slip further into his self-deprecation, he was pulled away from his thoughts by something sitting next to him. On his right was a puppy, no more than a year old, slobbering all over the bench with a bright green ball in its mouth. Peter could only stare at it before the puppy carefully placed the wet ball on his lap, urging him to throw it. Before he could do anything, you jogged up to them and picked up both the dog and the ball.
“I’m so sorry, sir! I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately!” your eyes wandered down to the wet patch on Peter’s thigh where the ball used to be. “God, you don’t have somewhere to be, do you? I’m really, really sorry!” 
You were really jittery. That was the only word Peter could think of to describe you. You didn’t know where to put your hands: between holding the happy pup, the ball with said pup’s drool all over it, or trying to introduce yourself to the man your dog decided was “the chosen one”, Peter was pretty entertained. Then he felt bad. 
“It’s no problem really,” he reassured you before pointing to the troublemaker in your arms fondly. “You’ve got a cute puppy. Too bad I didn’t get to throw the ball though.”
The sigh of relief you let out must’ve been cartoony because you swore you saw him smile, then he stood up and handed you a handkerchief. You looked at it for a few moments before accepting it with your one wet free hand gratefully. He remembered thinking at the time that you looked so welcoming. Like a friend you can always talk to even if you haven’t seen each other in a while. It might’ve been his senses messing with him, but the air felt clearer then. Your arrival cleared a fog in his mind, and he didn’t even know your name. So he told you his instead, his gloved hand touching yours for the first time in what seemed to be just a polite handshake. Looking back on it now, perhaps that was the first sign. 
You told him your name, trying not to stare at the man in front of you. His eyes were so… kind. They were big and round and full of wonder, maybe a little dampened by age. Kind but tired. They should’ve been just as average as any other set of eyes you’ve seen, but when the sunlight hit them just right, it reminded you of swirls of honey. The rest of him surely didn’t disappoint. Maybe a few seconds in, you realized you must’ve been gawking at him, so you said your goodbyes and tried to forget about it on the way home.
Not that you could, but he couldn’t either. 
A couple of weeks had passed. His patrols happened less often now with him working so much during the day. Between the bills and the pressure of being a functioning adult, Peter found it difficult to keep his head above water. He stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror he got from May’s old stuff. He was older. He was sadder. The suit still fit as well as it could, but squeezing into it was more of a chore now than an exciting flipping-of-the-switch into his alter-ego. His hands shook, if only for a moment, before he pulled down the mask over his head. The fire escape creaked under his weight before bouncing back into place as Spider-Man finally leaped off and swung into the night.
“It’s just another patrol,” he reminded himself. “You get this done and you can get some sleep.” 
It must’ve been two hours into his patrol when he heard you. His ears perked up at the sound of your voice. Before he could even register what was happening, his body was already swinging its way to you.
“Sherlock!” you called out. “Sherlock! Where are you?”
This was impossible. You loved your dog to bits but you’d think he’d think twice before dashing away from you at the slightest rustle of a bush.
“You need some help?” a voice came from behind you.
You jumped and swung your fist at whoever it was. Peter managed to narrowly avoid your sucker punch so he stepped back and held up his hands, in fear of freaking you out even more.
“WOAH! Woah, woah, hey…” he tried to calm you down, his actions about as frantic as your own. “I’m Spider-Man! I’m here to help!”
Red and blue spandex. Wide white lenses. Your mind finally processed what was going on in front of you. Spider-Man was here. 
Holy shit, Spider-Man was here.
Once again, you were apologizing to him. Not that you would ever know that it was the same person. You explained that you were trying to find your dog, and he listened. He clung to your every word, whether he meant to or not. That same fog in his head cleared up and soon he found himself engaging in easy conversation with you as you both searched the neighborhood for your dog. He felt light, like this was the simplest thing ever. Why was it so easy to be with you?
How long has it been since he was in the company of someone other than May? Someone who wasn’t from Midtown High who would awkwardly comment on how different he looked. Someone who wasn’t from the Bugle who would sneer at him every time he messed up because he was exhausted. How long has it been since he spent time with somebody who could get to know him the way normal people did? 
He tried to shake off these thoughts. Who said anything about the two of you getting to know each other anyway? Peter looked back at you from the dark alleyway. You were on the opposite side of the street from him, hellbent on finding Sherlock. A happy bark echoed from his side of the street. The puppy he once could’ve scooped up with one arm was now thrice the size of what it used to be. Sherlock stopped to smell Peter. The dog barked once again, as if to say “Hi, I remember you!”, and then ran back to you before you could burst into tears of frustration.
For a minute or two, Peter stayed just to watch. You were so gentle with your pup, so genuinely concerned for its wellbeing that it struck something inside of him. With how long he’s been Spider-Man and how much he lost as a consequence of it, he often forgot that people like you still existed. He forgot that there were still good people in this world, people who would do the same thing he did if they were the ones bitten by a radioactive spider. People that would help a tourist get to their hotel safely, reunite a mother with their child or, like you, spend the rest of the night looking for their dog in the freezing cold. 
Peter tried to leave as soon as he could because there was something about you he couldn’t quite figure out and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like not knowing what it was about you that rekindled a flame in him he thought he’d lost. You didn’t even get a chance to thank him properly. He shot one web after another and then it was back to work.
Your voice and Sherlock’s cheerful barks echoed after him, “Thank you, Spider-Man!” 
He felt himself smiling underneath the mask. Even if it was just for that night, he felt like the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man again. For you, the walk home was peaceful, even with the ever-present noise of the city in the background, but you felt safe. Since that first meeting with the masked hero, you’d feel that someone was watching you every now and then… and you knew exactly who it was. It was always a blip of red and blue in your peripheral, but it was more than enough. 
In February, you got laid off from your job. You’d seen it coming but that didn’t mean it still wasn’t a complete pain in the ass. You just turned up to work, got handed your box of stuff, and sent on your way. It all happened so fast. Next thing you knew, you were sitting in some dingy old bar, your box of stuff forgotten in the trunk of your car while you nursed your drink. Some guy took a seat a couple of stools away from you, huffing as he rested his head on the counter.
It took you a while to recognize him.
“Hey! We’ve met before… Peter, right?” 
Peter sat upright then, an awkward smile adorning his face as he turned to you. He stopped himself from speaking right away. After all, you met him once. He met you twice, both as himself and Spider-Man. He had to keep that in mind. 
“Oh, uh, yeah! From Central Park?”
You laughed, “Yeah. From Central Park.”
There it was again. The ease of the conversation. The natural flow of your back and forth banter. He couldn’t tell if it was just you or his heart finally giving in after years of self-isolation that brought about this sense of calm, but he was grateful for it all the same. You told him about what just happened earlier that day and… something pushed Peter to just take one more step into the deep end.
“You could come work at the Bugle,” he blurted out. Fuck. You’re so stupid, Peter.
“What? The Daily Bugle? The newspaper?” you repeated in disbelief, all of your attention now on him as you shifted in your seat. It was overwhelming. Why was it so overwhelming? This was only the third time he’s talked to you!
Maybe it was liquid courage, but he found himself nodding and just going down the rabbit hole of trying to convince you to apply, “I mean, you’ve been at that company for how many years? And I heard they don’t just hire anyone, too. If anyone could land a spot at the Bugle, it’s you,”—he grinned and put on an accent—”mi amigo.”
You stared at him, perplexed. Then, a smile. You were his friend.
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he smiled back, trying to hold back the hope blooming in his chest. “I guess… I’ll be seeing you again soon?” 
You wasted no time writing down your number on a piece of tissue and sliding it over to him, “You bet, Parker.”
In the safety of his one-bedroom apartment, Peter smiled at the messy line of numbers you scrawled on the two-ply tissue. He called you the day after, eagerly telling you abut what life at the Bugle was like. In true Spidey fashion, he was honest about it. His horror stories of his boss didn’t seem to faze you at all. In fact, it only made you more determined to apply and prove yourself. He admired that.
One call became two, and two became three. And one after that… and another after that. That wasn’t counting the daily texting that ensued in between. Peter found himself looking forward to your texts in the morning, when he finally fixed his sleep schedule just enough to wake up before his alarm started blaring. By the time you were officially an employee of the Daily Bugle, he couldn’t contain his excitement. 
It was exhilirating to not be alone anymore. It was even better when he realized your cubicle was just right next to his. Peter made it his mission to ensure your work experience was a fun and pleasant one. It was so unequivocally him to do something like that. Each gesture started out small: he decorated your desk with two succulents when you started out. After a while, he would leave candy on top of your paperwork while you went to the bathroom. He always denied this. Then there were the sticky notes.
Peter didn’t come to work regularly, he was juggling two other freelance jobs most of the time but he always, without fail, managed to leave a sticky note on your computer if he wasn’t going to be around the next day. Like his other acts of kindness, these started small too. Imagining him hunched over a desk and writing these notes just for you made you more flustered than you could even begin to admit.
“Don’t forget to eat!”
“You’re doing such a good job :)”
“YOU’RE SO AWESOME!!! >:D”
But your favorite, favorite one, the one you kept safe in your phone case, was the note he left when you finished some of his paperwork for him. The two of you never spoke about the notes he left, both too scared to ruin the comfortable dynamic you’ve created. The very next morning, that familiar bright yellow poked out from in between the stacks of paper on your desk. You remembered the warmth you felt as you read his words. Something about his handwriting only intensified that.
“My hero :D Tell me how to make it up to you, you beautiful human being,” followed by a doodle of you in a Spider-Man costume. 
One day, when he’s ready, maybe Peter would tell you how you saved a life just because you finished his work for him. In your own act of kindness, you allowed him to start his patrol earlier and save a teenage girl from getting mugged, or worse. When you invited him over to your house that weekend and saw the angry bruise on on his cheekbone, he let you tend to the cuts that were littered all over his body. He let himself bask in your gentleness and care and sweetness and everything that made you, you. You asked him if he got attacked. He shook his head and ignored the sting of the hydrogen peroxide. 
“I fell into some bushes while hiking. Turns out it had thorns,” he lied. Lying to you didn’t feel great.
Instead of prying any further, you laughed and told him to be more careful. He could’ve sworn the room felt brighter then. 
In June, May came over to his apartment to drop off some good homemade food; something she was sure he had gone far too long without, since his culinary taste consisted solely of instant noodles and microwaveable meals. The TV hummed in the background as the older woman made some small talk with her nephew. The realization that he was no longer a little boy dawned on her. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened, but it was a hard pill to swallow. May saw how tired and beaten down he was, especially after Gwen’s death, and it wasn’t until recently that she noticed a change in the young man. The stubble he always forgot to shave was nowhere to be seen, his unkempt hair finally trimmed into a manageable shape, and his eyes were brighter. He was still tired, but he was happy. For a brief moment, she saw the little boy she used to bathe and sing to before bed. 
Peter was too busy munching on the chicken casserole she prepared to see his aunt smiling at him. Finally, she decided to speak up.
“Who is it, Peter?”
He looked up, not expecting the question, “Who’s what?”
“Who’s making you happy?” 
Peter thought about it for a while, not sure if the answer he’ll give was actually the right one to describe what had transpired these last few months, “I made a friend, I guess. They’re really nice and uh… they just started working for the Bugle. So. I see them more often.”
May nodded, a content smile on her face as she processed the information. A coworker. A friend.
“Tell me about them, they seem nice.”
Peter hesitated for a second, only to be reminded of your face and your bad jokes and your dog. Nice was an understatement. You were amazing.
“They are. Nice, I mean. We just sort of ran into each other at Central Park and then I saw them again a couple of months later and I recognized them. They’re… they make me feel comfortable. Appreciated, you know? I haven’t had somebody to talk to like this since—” he stopped. 
Since. 
Since Gwen.
In the time Peter’s known you, not once did he think about her. Then that horrible sinking feeling in his gut came. Years of falling and learning how to get back up went down the drain because he was reminded once again of what he lost. His thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute, all of them connecting back to that one fact that he was sure would haunt him forever: Gwen Stacy was dead and she would stay dead and Peter couldn’t do anything about that, no matter how much he wished he could. Somewhere, deep down, a part of him never really grew up. How could he? What gave him the right to live the life he wanted when she couldn’t live hers because he couldn’t catch her?
Then you came into his life and pulled him out of his self-imposed exile. All at once, it was you flooding his senses and you weren’t even there. This was wrong. This was all wrong.
May could only watch her nephew go through a whole lifetime’s worth of pain all over again. In a flash, he was gone. May Parker was alone.
He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to leave his apartment. He couldn’t bear to let May see him like that again. He couldn’t… It felt too much like the first time. It felt too much like losing his uncle and his girlfriend. He didn’t want to relive it. New York’s skies were painted pink and orange as the sun began to set, but all he could think about was getting away. His feet simply walked and walked and walked, his mind in a haze until finally, finally, he stopped at the headstone that haunted him for so long.
Gwendolyne Maxine Stacy
Beloved daughter and friend
March 2, 1996 - July 2014
A breath he didn’t know he was holding in escaped him. It had been nearly a decade since she died. She would’ve been twenty-seven. The air felt colder somehow, but Peter, even with his scientific mind, wanted to believe that she was there with him in that moment. He wanted to believe that Gwen Stacy never truly left. It was true, in a way. It was Peter that kept her alive, even if it was only in memory. 
“Gwen, help me out,” he whispered. “Help me out, please. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”
He struggled to keep his composure.
“I met someone, Gwen. It was an accident. Their dog was all over the place and for some reason, he chose me. Gave me his ball to throw. And then they came along and GOD! They’re just— They’ve been nothing but kind to me, but I just can’t… I can’t do that to you. Never to you. And I know what you would say and how I’m an idiot but,” his voice wavered. “How can I ever look at anybody else the way I looked at you?”
Soft footsteps came from behind him.
“You can’t, sweetheart,” May placed her hand on his shoulder. “You can’t look at anybody that way you did Gwen. What you had with her was special. It was you and her, but that doesn’t mean you can’t start something new. Something entirely different and just as special. You know this is what she would’ve wanted for you, why would you deny her that, Peter?”
The dam broke. 
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”
May held him tight. She didn’t know how long she stayed there in the cold with Peter, but the moment that little boy was left on her doorstep, she knew she would do anything for him. No longer was he little, but he was her boy, and he always will be. If she had to rub circles on his back for as long as he needed to pour his heart out to the world, she would do it. So she did.
You didn’t hear from Peter for the next few days. He always managed to evade you at work and when you did see him, he avoided your gaze and left as soon as he could instead of hanging around to chat about random stuff like he always did. You would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. Peter was probably your first true friend in this city. He looked out for you in ways nobody ever bothered to, even people you’ve known your whole life. Peter Parker was your friend and you were determined to get to the heart of the problem and fix it.
Miraculously, you caught him just as he was about to leave the lobby. Hearing his name from your lips stopped him in his tracks, so he turned around to face you. You knew what he was going to say. It was going to be another excuse to leave and not talk to you.
“Oh, hey!” he greeted lamely. “Look, I can’t stay around for too long, I have to—”
“Cut the shit, Parker,” you hissed. If it came out harsher than you intended, you didn’t care. You deserved to know whatever it was that made him start avoiding you like the plague. “What’s going on with you? And don’t tell me it’s nothing, because it’s definitely something!”
He was caught. With nothing else up his sleeves, he pleaded quietly, “Not here. I’ll tell you, I promise, I just… Not here.”
A couple of hours later, you were face to face with his door. You hesitated to knock and as if on cue, Peter opened the door with a tired smile. His hair was damp and he was dressed in a shirt much too large for him and plaid sweatpants. He smelled of cheap bar soap and mint toothpaste. For a moment, all you could feel was him. It took all of your strength to push that thought to the back of your mind. There was a more important matter at hand, and that was figuring out what was bothering your friend.
He ushered you inside and you both awkwardly next to each other on his worn out couch. The broken leather pricked your legs every now and then through the old bedsheet Peter covered the couch with. All the confidence you mustered up throughout the day to confront him was lost now. You fiddled anxiously with the strings of a throw pillow, avoiding Peter’s gaze.
He broke the silence, “I’m sorry. I haven’t been myself recently but… what I did to you this week was wrong. Sorry. Again.” 
You sighed. This wasn’t easy at all. The words came out before you could think, “I know. I just wish you would tell me. I think I deserve to at least know why you’ve been acting this way.”
Your heart thrummed in both anticipation and fear. Peter, with his enhanced everything, could hear it. That’s when he took in the sight before him. You were so gorgeous; an angel on Earth in his eyes. You, so beautiful in ways he didn’t think was possible, sat in his living room because you were concerned. May’s words of wisdom echoed in his mind. She was right. What he had with Gwen was special, she was his first love, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t form something new. It took all this time to realize he wanted to build that with you. Your eyes told him everything you didn’t say out loud. You cared. You cared, you cared, you cared. He loved you.
Peter Parker loved you. He just had to figure out a way to say it.
He was sure he looked weird in that moment. You stared at him so intensely, trying to figure out the enigma that was his emotions. His hands found yours and the first thing you could think was how warm they were. He squeezed, as if trying to reassure himself that you were real and that this was happening.
“I lost someone. She… she was my girlfriend,” he began shakily, trying to find the right words to describe the massive lump of something in his chest. “Her name was Gwen. We met in high school. All these years, I’ve tried to hold on to her. You know, to keep her alive in some way. It wasn’t until recently that I realized that maybe I was doing more harm than good.”
There it was. It was all out in the open now, bits and pieces of his heart sprawled out across the floor as he waited for your reaction. Thousands of scenarios ran through his head, all of them ending in you leaving him alone. Each version of you in his mind reflected the guilt he bottled up for nearly a decade, screaming at him and cursing him for the things he’s done and the things he couldn’t do. Then he felt your arms wrap around him. He didn’t even realize he was already crying.
“Peter Parker, you are a good person. I might not know the full story, but if she loved you as much as you loved her, then I know for a fact that she would want you to be happy. You deserve that. She deserves that.” 
You prepared yourself for his protest; for him to rebut everything you just said. You hoped you said the right thing but nothing could’ve prepared you for what he said next.
“If you keep saying things like that, I’ll fall in love with you even more.”
It was so quiet, just a little above a hushed whisper that you could almost fool yourself into thinking he didn’t say it if it wasn’t for that fact that his hold on you got tighter. He must’ve seen the confusion on your face because he spoke again, “I hated myself for falling in love with you because I thought it was a disrespect to Gwen’s memory. I wish I couId say I didn’t see it coming. I always knew I would love you. I just didn’t want to see it.”
For a few moments, the two of you just stayed there, his confession lingering in the air you breathed. It might be a trick of the mind, but you knew it was sweet. Peter pulled away; too kind, too selfless, too afraid to consider the possibility that you might just feel the same.
“Peter—”
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—” 
“Peter—” 
“—ruin everything we had, I just couldn’t—”
“Peter!”
He gulped, clearly not expecting you to stop him from rambling. In his mind, you deserved an apology. In yours, you deserved a chance to speak.
“Peter,” you spoke softly, trying to reassure him that you weren’t offended in any way. “Have you ever once considered that maybe I like you too?” 
Ever since he got bitten by that spider, Peter learned to tune out the stimuli in his environment. It used to bother him so much; hearing and smelling and feeling everything all at once got overwhelming. Now, when all his senses pointed back to you, he finds he doesn’t mind at all. In that moment, he was so sure he’d die a happy man if your face was the last thing he ever saw. It took him a while to respond to your own confession, too wrapped in all of you to think clearly.
He asked you if you were sure. You said yes. He asked you again. You kissed him. 
The feeling of your lips on his both grounded him and blew him away. Somewhere in between that make-out session, his hands found yours. He decided this felt right. Maybe Peter will never fully overcome his own insecurities, and there was a lot of them. He was worried he was too tired, too beaten-down for you… and that didn’t even begin to describe the fear he felt knowing that you would have to find out about Spider-Man at some point. Again, he was reminded of your friendship and your kindness. You had given it to him so freely. He just needed to take another leap of faith and learn to trust himself as much as you did.
When November came, Peter didn’t find the air so chilly anymore. Not with you around.
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Hey y'all welcome back to the hit show
'You MFers Be Racist!'
I'm your host, Roman and on today's show we're gonna be talking about how Miguel, a Latino man looks... Latino.
*audience gasps*
Now audience, what if I told you there's literally people mad they made Miguel darker in ATSV 😭😭
They're saying it's racist because 'if a black character got turned white-'
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Like they ain't even change his ethnicity. Just the fact that he's darker makes them angry.
Same hair color same eye color but he's like four shades darker
Oh my god the creators are so evil for making a *checks notes* brownskin Latino man
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Someone said they prefer Miguel's ATSV design because of the brownskin Latino rep
- and they got called an Anti-White Racist (me and Hobie cackling in the next room) and then anon tried to explain how ethnicities and races in Mexico work
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Y'all do not understand how pervasive racism is in the Spider-man community.
It goes to show how so many 'allies' work and cheer for black solidarity UNTIL black or brown people do something they can't relate to.
Oh, Hobie might wanna date black girls to bond over the shares experiences of racism and anti-blackness? NO THAT'S RACIST how dare he hold parts of his blackness so dear that he wants to be able to share it to his partner with complete understanding? Race shouldn't matter at all to him!! And if it does he's a racist and so are you!!!!!!! You holding your culture dear is not allowed.
For the racists in the fandom, It's racist and upsetting to imply that POC might have a stronger connection to a black character than them.
Oh, brown Latinos are happy that Miguel is brown skin rep now? NO THAT'S RACIST how dare you change the characters skin color by four shades darker even if he's still the same ethnicity and nationality.
How dare you give rep to a largest part of the demographic he's always been apart of
Y'all are the mfers that gave Zendaya - a mixed race self-described Black woman - a hard time.
Yeah mfer I ain't forget that shit!!!!!
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Back when casting Zendaya as MJ was seen as racist and 'race switching' and 'what if they made Miles white that wouldn't be okay so this shouldn't be okay either'
even though there's already a white Spider-man but no black canon spiderman love interest despite the character being around for over half a fucking century.
Because even though Zendaya shares Caucasian ancestory like Mary-Jane has, Zendaya is very clearly a person of color, and since she doesn't look white, that's not enough.
(And don't even get me STARTED on the shit she got for actually dating Tom. Or people who say they want his Black Cat to be white so he can 'get back to' yt women)
Sure, Miguel is mixed - sharing white ancestory with his father. But he's clearly a person of color now, and since he doesn't look white anymore, that's not enough for y'all.
The racism is wild. It's wild and clear.
And that's all from me folks! See you next time on 'Y'all MFers be Racist!!'
Maybe next time we can talk about how Jessica Drew wasn't that much in the wrong. And how she was way less in the wrong than Peter B. And how y'all put responsibility on Black women while also giving a pass to white male incompetency in the same breath.
Tune in next time because trust me these racists will strike again and so will I 😭😭🧐🧐
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