Tumgik
#spiderman no way home spoilers
unicornspwnall · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
SPIDER-MAN NO WAY HOME: THE MORE FUN STUFF (2022) dir. Jon Watts
819 notes · View notes
nekojetto · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
WOOOOOOOOH!!!! I’M ALIVE GUYS!!!!! And I’m here with some random story about Octodad and Tom!Peter :))))
I think it’s from this octodad AU 
Some add: I totally forgot to talk about the fact in a lot of comics, Doc Ock I have a terrible/abbusive mother and I asked myself if Octodad had a good mom or not. AND NO OTTO it’s not funny!! Don’t laugth about this!!! ;;w;;
2K notes · View notes
und3r00s · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
3 fr be the magic number
222 notes · View notes
justapurrcat · 2 years
Text
Crush Tingle | p.b.p.
Pairing: college!Peter Parker x fem!reader
Excerpt: “Ever since you’d told him you found his drunk persona to have so much in common with them, penguin compilations had become one of his favourite things to watch in dead moments. He claimed he was doing it so that he could take notes in order to keep your interest alive. And also because he wanted to find out what you had seen in him that made you decide you wanted him to be the one who would make your leg pop.
But those cute memories weren’t enough to chase away the cloud that was coming together in your mind, nor to fill the pit that was forming in your stomach.” 
Sequel to Baby Penguins and Popping Legs
Word Count: 10.120k
Warnings: English not being my first language, possible typos, fluff, some angst bc it’s me, stupid dialogues, mentions of sex, reader has issues, NWH spoilers, Tom!Peter (aged up)
A/n: Okay, so, I usually don’t take requests bc I’m slow af, but this one was so cute I just couldn’t resist!!!
“i hate to admit that i loved the spider vow… maybe i’m weird too 🤭 anyway idk if request r open buuuttt if they r then could i request a college!peter parker x reader w major domestic fluff but maybe jealous reader is thrown in?? bc every girl on campus is in love w peter parker👀”
To whoever requested this, thank you and I’m sorry it took so long. I hope you’ll like this and that you don’t mind me turning this into a sequel, it’s just that I felt inspired... but it can be read on its own, I promise! Thank you again for sending this! 💜
Penguin Crush Masterlist
Peter Parker Masterlist
General Masterlist
Tumblr media
You buried your face in the curve of your boyfriend’s neck, basking in the warmth radiating from his body, through the thin fabric of your shirts – that both belonged to him, to be precise – and letting his pleased giggle brush over your ears.
It had become the norm for the two of you, chilling and cuddling on your bed like this, forgetting that an actual living, breathing World, filled with pain and unspeakable things, existed outside of your room, outside the boundaries of your skins...
You didn’t know if you had something to do with it, but ever since you’d met him, Peter Parker was less alone. Like a switch had been turned on, he had started to talk to more people, making more friends, never failing to include you. He kept his back straighter and held his head up higher, talked more, laughed more.
He seemed happier.
Right now, he was lying on his stomach, with you on top of him, your chest pressed against his back and your legs tangled together, a warm and fuzzy blanket shielding your bodies from the cold.
Peter was watching a video on his phone, and you were too busy leaving small kisses on his exposed skin to care about everything else, but a notification sound caught your attention, and before you could stop them, your eyes were already instinctively flickering to the screen, a bunch of glitter and pink and red hearts exploding in your vision.
‘Thank u so much, Pete! U saved me with the latest assignment! U’re the best! I owe u!!!’, the preview read, amongst all those extra saccharine emojis.
Cindy Moon.
Again.
Your boyfriend opened the chat, typing a quick ‘No prob, Cin!’, followed by a couple of thumbs up, and immediately going back to watch his interrupted ‘goofy baby penguins’ video.
Ever since you’d told him you found his drunk persona to have so much in common with them, penguin compilations had become one of his favourite things to watch in dead moments. He claimed he was doing it so that he could take notes in order to keep your interest alive. And also because he wanted to find out what you had seen in him that made you decide you wanted him to be the one who would make your leg pop.
But those cute memories weren’t enough to chase away the cloud that was coming together in your mind, nor to fill the pit that was forming in your stomach.
In moments like that, forgetting wasn’t so easy anymore. Not when the World caved in, making you aware of how better than you he could do...
You adverted your eyes from the screen, mentally scolding yourself for invading his privacy like that. Peter always told you he didn’t care, sometimes he would casually ask you to check on his notifications when he couldn’t. You still remembered the absolute shock of the first time he’d handed you his phone, while he was fixing his suit. He’d told you his password like it was the most normal thing ever.
And you also remembered the two hours he had spent kissing your tear-stained cheeks and holding you close, helping you recover from your panic attack, and making you realize that his password was the day he had met you for the first time, on Give Everyone You Meet a Flower Day, the holiday you had come up with just to talk to him.
But old habits were hard to die, and so was a cheating asshole who would yell at you for even daring to touch his ringing phone to bring it to him while he was showering.
With a heavy heart, you rolled off of him, resting on your back, staring at the ceiling. You could already tell what would come next and you didn’t want to see it.
Peter’s head snapped in your direction, the sudden lack of your reassuring weight on top of him causing him to feel exposed, and not in a good way. Maybe he was just being dramatic – no, he told himself, he was sure he was being dramatic –, but he felt like something could attack him any second now, like he’d just lost something vital to him...
“What’s going on?”, he asked, trying to chase away those dark thoughts, like the mere act of associating them with your person could turn out to be harmful for you.
Without daring to look at him, you closed your eyes like you wanted to sleep. “Nothing”, you dismissed it under your breath. “Just tired.”
One of the downsides of having a boyfriend with heightened senses was that you couldn’t hide anything from him, all of your lies getting debunked in a heartbeat only because a damn radioactive spider couldn’t mind his own business.
It wasn’t that you liked lying to him, but sometimes you just wished you had that special ability: the poor boy already carried so much on his shoulders without the burden of your cheap drama, there was no need for you to bring him down even more.
“I want a girlfriend, y/n, not a ball and chain.”
Shit, you thought to yourself. Not fucking ‘Colin The Cheater’ again.
You had a perfect boyfriend, miraculously carved out of dream material, you loved him and you were happy, why the fuck couldn’t that stupid idiot leave you alone at once?
Of course, Peter sensed your internal turmoil and, even if he couldn’t quite understand what it was about, he knew that there was something bothering you. Without wasting another second, he covered your body with his, placing his leg between your thighs and burying his face in your hair, determined to get your attention.
“Peter”, you groaned in what you so badly wanted to be an annoyed tone, while, in fact, you were fighting the instinct to wrap your arms around his torso to keep him there and never let him go. “Get off.”
“Could you give me a hand with that?”, he asked innocently, pairing the question with a chaste kiss right below your ear, making you suck in a sharp breath.
So much for innocence, he was one-hundred percent aware of what he was doing.
“I mean it”, you muttered unconvincingly, your heart shamelessly using your ribcage as a drum, your hands itching to touch him. “You’re crashing me.”
“I thought you liked being crashed”, Peter countered, nuzzling the side of your neck, captivated by how wild your pulse could get due to his proximity. He found it hard to believe sometimes, but that didn’t take away from the fact that he definitely enjoyed having this effect on you.
You remained silent, but your body was speaking volumes and Peter never failed to turn them all up. “You seemed quite happy last night.” To reinforce his point, he rubbed his thigh against your core, the tiny whimper that fought its way out of your lips sounding like the most angelic symphony to his ears.
“... and this morning, too–AAAH!!!” His cheeky remarks got suddenly interrupted by a pained scream that caused his voice to go up an octave and him to jump back so violently he ended up with his ass on the ceiling, supporting himself on his bare hands and feet as he looked at you in complete shock.
“W-why?”, he croaked out, his big round eyes and the squeaky sound summoning in your mind the image of an abandoned and beaten-up puppy, which made you hate yourself a bit for pinching his side to get him off of you.
Girlfriend of the Year, y/n, great job.
A wave of guilt washed over you and you physically couldn’t hold his stare any longer, so you sat up and rested your back against the headboard, letting the blanket gather around your calves. “Told you”, you grumbled. “You were crashing me.”
Peter landed gracefully on the bed in his signature spider-pose, hoping this would get a laugh out of you like all the other times and his heart broke a little not only when he saw it didn’t, but that you didn’t even consider him. However, he wasn’t going give up like that. “That’s so mean...”, he complained with a playfully hurt tone.
You kept your gaze down, everything about your body language screaming defence, his second attempt failing miserably. “I was literally gasping for air.”
“You literally weren’t”, he pointed out, poking at your knee.
“Whatever”, you scoffed, getting out of bed and making a beeline towards the door, headed to the kitchen. You didn’t spare him a single glance. “I’m hungry.”
Tumblr media
Shit.
You flipped over the bread with such energy it almost fell out of the pan and ended up on the floor. Clicking your tongue in irritation, you did your best to move a bit more carefully.
You were mad. And embarrassed because you were mad. And stupid. You felt – no, you were – so fucking stupid you wanted to bash your own head against the nearest wall. And, most importantly, you were a shitty girlfriend, undeserving of the affection of the exceptional specimen Peter Benjamin Parker was.
“Darling...”, you heard his voice coming from behind you, his figure appearing in your field of vision, but you still kept your eyes down, your lips stubbornly sealed.
“Darling, what’s wrong?”, he tried again, cautiously wrapping his arms around your waist, looking for any sign of discomfort coming from you. When, despite your surly attitude, nothing seemed to alter his senses, he grew a bit bolder, holding you close and pressing his chest against your back, leaning his chin on your shoulder.
You relaxed immediately, melting into his reassuring touch and closing your eyes as you let him gently sway you from side to side. “Nothing’s wrong”, you finally murmured.
Peter lightly bumped his nose against your cheek. “Yes, it is.”
“I hate that sense of yours, sometimes”, you scowled.
His hands found their own place in yours, your fingers intertwining spontaneously. “Are you sure you hate it?”, he questioned and you knew exactly what he was alluding to. God, he could be such a cheeky shit when he wanted...
“I said sometimes”, you specified, lowering your defences, allowing him to slowly start to erase the bad thoughts clouding your mind.
Satisfied with your reaction, Peter hummed in your ear, his lips ghosting over your temple and delivering little pecks along your hairline. “So...”, he purred. “You wanna tell me what’s troubling y–”
“THE BREAD!!!”, you yelled, the unpleasant smell of something burning invading your nostrils all at once and causing you to freak out. And you weren’t the only one who almost risked a heart attack.
Your poor boyfriend immediately let go of you, taking a huge jump back and almost tripping on his own feet, the sound of your alarmed voice still echoing in his ears. He was so worried he might’ve unintentionally done something to hurt you that it took him a while to understand what was going on.
Meanwhile, you had literally thrown yourself onto the stove, turning it off, removing the pan and emptying it in a plate in what, in Peter’s eyes, appeared like one single chaotic and yet incredibly smooth motion.
“Shitshitshitshitshit...” You picked up the two slices to check the damage, using only the pad of your fingers to avoid getting burned, then, facing your defeat, you grabbed a knife and slowly, but steadily, began scraping off the burnt surface of the bread.
Peter observed you for a few moments, then tried to speak up again. “Baby...”
You didn’t stop, not even to look at him. “Mh?”
“It’s burnt...”
“So what?”, you plainly shot back with a shrug of your shoulders. “I’m getting rid of the burnt part.”
He extended a tentative hand towards you, hoping you would listen to him. “You could get cancer from it.”
“We can only pray”, you spat without thinking, and you instantly regretted it as soon as your brain restored its connection to your mouth.
For a moment, everything seemed to stop, and it wasn’t a sweet rom-com cliché, but the literal calm before the storm, the quietest moment of peace before the terrifying roar of a mountain about to crumble down.
Peter’s hand didn’t get to touch you, as if trapped by some invisible force that kept it suspended in the air, just a fragment of inches away from your skin. His face dropped, shock emptying his eyes and filling them with confusion first and with dread immediately after. There was no need for him to vocalize what was going through his mind right now.
He already knew.
After all, how couldn’t he? It was you who had told him and his senses had caught up on more – way more – than what just your voice had put into words.
Just like every single thing in that room, you seemed to be motionless as well, your hands still holding the bread and the knife, your gaze fixated on the plate, but not really seeing it, tears burning in the back of your throat, fighting to get to your eyes.
“y/n.”
You flinched imperceptibly – for the sight of a normal person, at least – at his tone, rushing to apologize. “I’m sorry.”
“You know I don’t like it when you joke about that.”
“I know.” You kept your head low, setting everything down. Your hands were starting to shake and the last thing you needed was to make another mess in the kitchen of your dorm. “I know”, you repeated. “I’m sorry.”
Although your heart was rushing, you felt like you were freezing, chills traveling down the curve of your spine and taking possession of your entire being, annihilating all your senses.
“I don’t wanna lose you–”
“You won’t”, you let out in a faint whisper. “I’m sorry...”
“Are you okay?”
It was like hundreds of little threads of liquid ice were wrapping themselves around you, locking you inside of your body, isolating you in a dark, lonely prison. “I’m okay.”
“You sure?”
“Positive”, you confirmed, the syllables tasting bitter on your tongue. You almost didn’t hear your own voice, feeling helpless, getting more and more lost by the second. You were on the edge of a ravine, only one last thing clear in your mind before you could fall in. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that.” Peter didn’t waste a second, wrapping his arms around your trembling figure as tight as he could, like branches of ivy growing over you. An ivy that pulled you away from the void, an ivy of fire that burned without scorching, instantly melting all the ice that had taken over you.
You quivered, releasing a grateful hum, his presence slowly rebuilding your surroundings, his soothing voice giving rhythm to your breaths, his light-feather touches moulding you back into existence, the webs of his love pulling your broken pieces back together.
“I’ll take care of it, okay?”, he offered, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin for a bit longer than necessary.
“You don’t have to...”, you tried to object.
“I want to.” He lovingly cupped your face, tilting your head back so that you would look at him, the warmth hidden in those chocolate irises being all you needed. “Now, sit back and let me treat my girlfriend.”
You let him guide you towards the table and sit you back on one of the chairs, then simply observed him as he moved around the kitchen, finding yourself to be getting more and more enamoured with him and his funny little chef antics – even though he interrupted them every now and then to come and ask for a kiss. You loved him so much you didn’t think it was possible... and yet there you were, taking in the view of the boy who’d just saved you from the beginning of a panic attack, making heart eyes at him even when he wasn’t looking.
“Here, M’lady”, Peter announced, setting the plate down and taking the seat right next to you, placing his elbows on the table.
The recipe was extremely easy – nothing more than bread with oil, dice tomatoes and cucumbers, tipped with a sprinkle of chopped basil –, and maybe Peter found it kinda hard to see the appeal of it, but you liked it and, most importantly, it reminded you of home. He had learned how it had become a symbol of your childhood, evoking happy memories in you.
“Thank you”, you uttered softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek one more time. You offered him some, but he said he was fine, and just like you had watched him prepare food for you a few minutes before, he observed you eat that same food with a tender expression on his face.
You were halfway through the second slice of bread when Peter felt comfortable to try again. “Darling...” His fingers brushed along your arm and you turned towards him, mouth closed because you were still eating, but eyes inviting him to say more, assuring him that you were listening.
“Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?”
You gulped, and not only because you were done chewing. “Nothing’s wrong”, you declared, sounding like a broken record.
Peter considered your words, looking like he was lost in his thoughts. “You don’t wanna tell me”, he spoke after a while, but there was no sign of resentment in his tone. “It’s okay”, he kept going, standing up and making his way towards your bedroom.
Your confused gaze remained glued to his figure until he got out of the door. “What are you...?” Placing the food down on the plate, you were about to go check on him, but you didn’t even have the time to take a step after getting up from the chair, that he was already back in the room, his mask covering his head.
“Tell Spider-Man, then.”
Your jaw dropped on the floor and you stared at your favourite adorkable human being for a good ten seconds, before the corners of your mouth curled up into a grin. There was no point in hiding it, so you did nothing to stop them. “Idiot.”
“Your idiot”, he corrected you, pretending to shoot a web at you like he was trying to guide you into his arms.
A giggle erupted from your throat and you closed the distance between your bodies, taking the mask off and stuffing it in his back pocket and then letting him engulf you in a hug and resting your head on his shoulder, his heartbeat resonating in your ears and vibrating in your chest.
“Seriously, baby...”, he mumbled, his hands moving up and down your back, caressing your skin through the fabric, cuddling you just the way you liked. “Have I done something?”
You shook your head, pressing yourself even more against him. “No, Peter.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No!”
Your head shot up and thank whoever first came up with the idea of studying radioactive spiders, because hadn’t it been for them, your boyfriend wouldn’t have been able to dodge you, ending up with an excruciating pain in his chin.
“You’re perfect. You’re the most perfect boyfriend I could wish for”, you reassured him, clinging to his shoulders with an urgency that took you both by surprise. “How could I ever be mad at you?”
That question worried Peter even more and he raised a hand to cup the side of your face, his arm still draped around your waist. “Then what is it?”
Teeth sinking down on your lower lip to the point where they almost drew blood, you understood that there was no going back now.
“Why are you not mad at me?”
Of all the things you could’ve come up with, Peter wasn’t certainly expecting that. “I’m not sure I follow...”
“Peter.” With a sigh, you gently freed yourself from his hug, his hands struggling a bit to let go of your – his – shirt and, even after they did, still instinctively reaching out for you before they fell at his sides.
“You’re an amazing guy”, you said, gesturing at him, a fond look in your eyes. “You’re kind, you go off your way to help people, you’ve got a smile that could light up this whole town, a brain that could solve three quarters of the issues in this fucking World, you beat a sorcerer using math...” Without realizing it, more or less on the second point of your list, you had begun to mindlessly pace back and forth, back and forth, like a restless soul. “You’re like this genius puppy-eyed sexy super-hero–”
“... did you just call me a dog?”
You turned to face him again as if you hadn’t even heard him. “And I’m highly suspicious”, you began, but felt the sudden need to correct yourself. “No, I’m certain that everyone who sees you wants you... and I cannot think–”
“Whoawhoawhoaholdonholdonholdon”, Peter interrupted you, and you had no trouble imagining a question mark of gigantic dimensions drawing itself onto the canvas of his features. He was that expressive, another one of the innumerable reasons that had left you no choice but to fall for him.
“Everyone?”, he echoed you, convinced he might’ve misheard. Kinda hard for an individual with enhanced-hearing, but not impossible, right? “What are you–?”
“Yes, everyone”, you reinforced the concept, and this time your eyes were boring into his, the intensity threatening to drill two holes in his skull.
“Oh, come on...” The spectre of a laugh rose from his throat and quickly died on his lips when he saw that you didn’t join him and didn’t seem to plan on doing it. That you were still looking at him in the same way, with that tenderness that had stolen his heart.
That you weren’t joking.
“y/n, that can’t be”, he tried to talk some sense into you.
You tilted your head to the side, arching an eyebrow. “Really?”, you asked, and you weren’t mad or sarcastic, but genuinely puzzled. “You’re a walking polygraph, but you can’t find out if someone has a crush on you?”
But, like a well-structured and solid script, Peter had the perfect comeback for that. “Need I remind you that we waltzed around each other for months like we were in a dragon courtship dance–”
The analogy left you speechless for a moment. “Wow, you really did ignore the Viking dance and went straight for the dragon one...”
“It’s the one everyone remembers, let’s be honest”, he explained quickly and you couldn’t reply a thing, finding no flaw in his logic. “Only because neither of us could understand our feelings were reciprocated?”, he went back to his original point.
You looked down on your fiddling hands, recognizing that, other than the dragon thing, he was right on this too.
Peter pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a long breath and letting it out before he dived into one of the most humiliating memories of his life. But it was for you. “Darling, I had to throw up in front of you so that we could get a moment alone...” He cringed at his own behaviour, the embarrassment enflaming his cheeks and ears. “... and it wasn’t even part of a genius plan I had come up with...”, he continued. “It was just me being an idiot. I only got lucky things turned out the way they did.”
Once again, you said nothing, but a nostalgic smile found its way to your lips, guided by the surfacing memories of that crazy, yet unbelievably cute night.
“That was the textbook definition of the ‘idiots to lovers’ fic you could write for a Valentine Bingo event, following the prompts of college, bed sharing and meet ugly”, he described without batting an eyelash and, despite the scarily painful accuracy, you still scrunched your nose a bit at his choice of words.
You didn’t know how to explain it, but for a moment, Peter didn’t sound like... well, Peter. Surprisingly enough, he looked just as lost.
“That was unnecessarily specific, but I’m gonna choose not to question any of it”, you eventually broke the spell, coming out of that weird impasse.
“Wise choice”, Peter agreed, energetically moving his head up and down as if that could help him get rid of that unusual sensation. “I honestly don’t even know why I phrased it like that...”, he trailed off, then, shook his head to definitely snap out of it. He was on duty: his girlfriend needed him, he could not get distracted like that.
“What I’m trying to say is...” He slowly walked up to you again, moving a rebel lock away from your forehead. “I can’t even tell if the person I like likes me back...”, the gesture then was followed by the tip of his finger tracing the profile of your nose, that ended with a final boop he knew would make you chuckle. And it did.
“How could I ever notice it in someone I have no interest in?”
Your eyes fluttered shut for a few moments as you surrendered to his touch. You had made the choice to date an idiot that was incredibly smart, you had no one to blame but yourself. “Touché...”, you conceded, not resisting the urge to play with the collar of his shirt.
“But I’m curious now. Spill the tea.”
You stared at him without understanding, perplexity evident on your face.
“The names”, Peter clarified with an encouraging look. “I want the names.”
You rolled your eyes at him. “You sound like a hitman.”
“Well...”, he smirked proudly. “I’m your boyfriend, so I was certainly capable of hitting on you.”
You said nothing in return, and what followed was nothing but an embarrassing silence that gave him all the time he needed to process what had just come out of his mouth.
Peter gritted his teeth and squinted his eyes like someone had just stabbed him, the reflection of his stupid face in your pupils getting almost unbearable to witness. “... that was an extremely bad joke, wasn’t it?”, he asked, not really expecting an answer. He didn’t slap himself only as a pathetic – useless – attempt to preserve some dignity. “Please, don’t break up with me because of that”, he pleaded with you. “You have all the rights to do it, and I would understand if you did, but please don’t.”
You walked past him, lightly hitting his hip with yours in the process. “You’re lucky I love you so much I would take a bullet for you, you idiot”, you scoffed, circling the table and grabbing your plate to bring it to the sink.
“And I’m thanking my good star every day”, Peter assured you with a sense of relief, following you and leaning back against the counter. “Not only because of that, but also because you’ll never have to do it.”
You shook your head, biting back a cackle, and once again offered him the food. This time, he took it, eagerly devouring it as you washed the dishes and let them to dry. “So?”, he prompted you after you were done, hitting your elbow with a barely perceptible nudge. “Come on, angel, talk to me...”
You lowered your head with a mild nod, then sat on the counter right next to him, hunched over yourself with your intertwined hands resting on your thighs.
“... Cindy Moon.”
The name rolled off your tongue with difficulty, the bitter taste filling your mouth a sharp contrast to the actual sweet nature of your absolute first girl-crush ever. Her voice sounded as silky as her hair looked, and you had spent several weeks of extremely confused dreams, where you couldn’t quite place whether you wanted yours to look just the same or if you wanted to run your fingers through hers as she laid her head on your chest.
A big emotional turmoil for your little and suspiciously demi brain.
“Cindy?”, Peter wondered, then his eyes widened like he’d just remembered something. “You know, it’s curious that you’re mentioning her, she just tested me – I was with you when I got it – and...” He had started to tell you this like he would’ve told you an amusing anecdote, but realization dawned on him with the strength of a slap across the face. “Oh...”
Your head sunk between your shoulders. “Yeah...”
“B-but...”, he stuttered, struggling to make all these new notions make some sense. “She was talking about the assignment...”
“I get the feeling that if you check your phone again the situation might be different”, you suggested, completely giving up.
“What?”, he gaped.
“Remember my fifth sense? I also call it my crush tingle.” You tapped your temple, forcing yourself to joke about the situation, hoping this would help make it hurt a bit less. It went without saying that it didn’t work.
“Darling, I love you”, Peter cooed reassuringly, taking his phone out of his pocket and showing you the battered screen as he opened the chat, confident that this would put you at ease. “But that can’t be possible, don’t you–”
The rest of his sentence died in his throat as soon as he read the content of Cindy’s latest message.
‘How about a coffee tomorrow after class? I’d like to see you... without books between us, for once... or maybe more than just once.’ The words were followed by a myriad of winks and little faces blowing kisses.
You tiredly raised your head to meet his upset gaze, the fact that you were being proved to be right doing nothing to make you feel better. A girl with a bone structure you could only wish for in your wildest dreams was flirting with your boyfriend. If anything, he should’ve been the one celebrating for that.
At first, it was like Peter had just caught on fire, a bright scarlet red spreading like oil under the pale sea of his skin... and then, all at once, every pigment of colour drained from his entire face. “O-oh...”, was all he managed to say.
You gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Told you...”, you breathed out.
“So... that’s the reason behind all those little hearts?”, he deduced, incredulity dripping from every letter. “It always messed with my head me how much she would put in a single message”, he observed as she scratched the back of his neck, glaring at the incriminated emojis. Then he shut the phone and carelessly threw it on the counter, adding a new crack to the already exposition-worthy collection. “But darling, I don’t like her that way–”
“And then there’s Gwen Stacy”, you cut him off, her huge green eyes shining from below her perfectly kept fringe appearing into your vision.
Green...
Like her favourite green skirt that showed off her perfect long legs. The one she loved to wear anytime she knew Peter would be around. Like the ribbon she once had wrapped around your wrist, saying that colour looked great on you as she kissed your cheek.
“Gwen?” The poor boy was doing his best to collect his racing thoughts, looking for any sign he might have misread. “I don’t understand, she invited us over...”, he recalled, desperately wanting you to support this version. “She said we were going to get Brazilian...”
You pulled your knees up to your chest, with the illusion this could make you smaller. “No, Peter...”, you corrected him in a mumble. “She invited you over. And she is going to get a Brazilian.”
“What does it mean?”, he asked you, thanking God that he had the support of the counter, because he had the fear his legs could betray him anytime soon.
You winced at the imaginary pain, and also at what you were about to reveal to your utterly devastated boyfriend. “That she’ll get a full wax between her legs.” You hesitated to continue... but then, your stupid coping mechanism of making jokes about something that was making you suffer got the best of you. “Guess, in some way, she does want you to taste something Brazilian–”
“Oh my God, stop!”, Peter shrieked, covering his ears and getting away from you, like that could help him escape the image you had summoned in his mind.
Heart sinking in your chest, you watched him walk miles in that small kitchen, sometimes not even realizing that he was walking up the walls and the ceiling, and getting down only when, looking back at you, he saw that you were upside-down. “That’s why she was winking at me while she was saying it!”, he gasped, stopping in the middle of the room like a helpless fawn caught in headlights.
Tilting your head to the side, you offered him a sympathetic smile. A smile that however, didn’t reach your eyes and he saw it.
Then a doubt came to Peter’s attention, a doubt that sparked a new hope inside of him. “B-but... isn’t she dating Harry Osborn?”
It was just a miracle that you managed to hold back a whine, not wanting to overload him even more, but the comment came out before you could stop it. And, even if you’d succeeded at that, he would’ve easily read them in your expression. “Speaking of the devil...”
“Harry?” His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, his voice sounding like the one of an excited teenager who was screaming the name of their idol. Peter seemed to notice that as well, composing himself before he opened his mouth again. “Harry likes me?”, he asked you, a hand splayed onto his chest. “Are you for real?”
Oh well, at least this hadn’t shocked him. “To say that he worships the ground you walk upon would be more accurate.”
His lips formed a perfect circle, eyes scanning every inch of your face. “How do you know?”
“He told me”, you admitted shyly. “A couple days after the party, to be precise.”
It was one of your most vivid memories up until now, every detail forever engraved in your brain: starting with how he had approached you, calling you a ‘lucky bitch’, passing through how calmly he had confessed everything to you, and ending with his sincere congratulations and the promise he wouldn’t interfere, but also letting you know that in case you ever wanted to do something fun together with him and Gwen, all you had to do was shoot him a text and they would’ve been more than ready.
You knew that Harry was trying to be nice in his own, very personal way, but ever since that day, you just hadn’t been able to shake that feeling off. He and Gwen were so attracted to your boyfriend that they would’ve been willing to tolerate your presence – even to have sex with you –, as long as they could get him in their bed...
“But he was the one who suggested me to drink to find the courage to talk to–”, Peter objected, before interrupting himself again. “Oh.”
“He told me that, too”, you mentioned, chewing on your lower lip. “He said he wanted you to be happy. But that he also wanted to get some sort of little revenge for himself”, you concluded with a shrug.
Classical Harry.
“That’s...” Blushing, he moved a rebel curl behind his ear, beaming like a schoolgirl. Or like Debby Ryan. “Oh my God...”
“Right?”
“I’m... flattered... eighteen-year-old me would’ve thrown his boxers at him, though.” He allowed himself to get lost in that little fantasy for a few seconds, and honestly? You couldn’t really blame him. Harry Osborn might have been a jerk, but at least he was a hot jerk.
“It’s not too late...”, you joked humourlessly.
“Sorry. I’ve found someone else I like throwing my boxers at”, he replied with a wink, stepping out of that daydream in no time. As pleasant as it was, he enjoyed this reality more. He made his way back to you, leaning in for a kiss. “I like throwing my whole incredibly expensive suit at you, actually.”
“No Spider-Man sex jokes”, you frowned, raising your hand to stop him. “We’ve talked about this.”
Peter simply settled for pressing his lips against your palm. “Right”, he agreed, fingers encircling your wrist as he moved your hand to hold his cheek. “Only Spider-Man sex”, he grinned wickedly at you, the action spreading warmth all over your body. He felt it, and it meant you had caved in. “So?”
“So what?”, you questioned dumbly.
“Your point?”
“My point?” You blinked repeatedly. Hadn’t you already told him everything he wanted to know? “What do you mean?”
“Darling, you just made a list of people who you claim want me”, he explained with the patient of a saint. “Your point?”
“You could... have any of them, if you wanted”, you sighed. “Even two at once, I think Harry and Gwen might have some poly situation going on, but I’m not that sure, I might need to ask them...”
“y/n”, Peter cut your rambling off, hands finding your knees and massaging them gently. “Your point.”
“My point is...” You couldn’t resist placing a feather-light to his knuckles, fearing that this could be one of your last chances. You were about to open his eyes, showing him a new horizon, an inviting road paved with precious gems that shone bright. So much brighter than the rough stone he was dealing with at the moment. “With all of them around you...” Your voice faltered a little and you had to clear your throat, scared it would break.
“... why on Earth would you settle for me?”
“S–” The movement of his hands halted and he took them off of you. “Settle for–”, he wheezed, like he was in the middle of a respiratory crisis, backing away until he bumped into the table, his now out of control inhumane strength pushing it against the wall.
Neither of you seemed to care, though, Peter being overwhelmed by the bomb you had just dropped upon him and you drowning in worry and guilt.
“Are you okay?”, you fretted, hopping off the counter.
“I need to sit down”, Peter whimpered, pale as a ghost and blindly reaching behind himself and slumping in a chair as soon as he found it. “I really wish I could get drunk right now. Like, absolutely wasted.”
You stood there awkwardly, watching him as he inhaled and exhaled, gripping his hair and tugging at the roots, leaving you torn between wanting to comfort him and being scared that it would only stress him more. Luckily, he seemed to recover quite rapidly.
“The drunk me you met at that party? I need him back”, he said, looking a bit more relaxed and even surprising you with a laugh. A forced and honestly quite dry one, but still a laugh. He beckoned you closer, hugging your waist and resting his forehead against your abdomen.
“The drunk you who straight up told me he was Spider-Man when he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone?”, you remarked, as your fingers found their legit place, tangling themselves through his curls and Peter mewled contently at the feeling of your nails lightly scraping his scalp, then took a deep breath.
He loved it so much when you didn’t wear those heavy perfumes that messed with his senses and made his head spin – and not in the good way. They covered the delicate scent of your skin, the one of your body soap. Violets had become his favourite flowers because of it. Well, also because of it.
“Yeah, that guy”, he grumbled. “I need him to deal with this nonsense for me.” He raised his head to give you an eye roll, but his playfulness vanished just as quickly as it had been restored.
“Oh no...” He pouted, touching the spot between your eyebrows. “I know this wrinkle. There’s more, isn’t it?”
Caught red-handed, you looked away, regretting how your stupid face always betrayed you. “I mean...”, you tried to buy some time for yourself, thinking of the most diplomatic way to tell him. “These people are not actually hitting on you–”
“Thank God.”
His relief didn’t rub off on you, failing to ease your concerns. “... b-but they would still be...”, you countered weakly, lacking the courage to pronounce the words that haunted you.
… better than me.
You gulped them back, along with the tears they brought with them and that were threatening to choke you. “But you still did have feelings for them”, you argued. “A-and it would make sense if you wanted to...” You didn’t need to finish for him to understand. “Like... Liz Allen.”
To be fair, you had only seen Liz in some of the many pictures Peter had showed you while telling you about his universally forgotten life, but she had struck you like a lightning in the middle of the Thunder Plains in Final Fantasy X, with those plump lips and that smooth skin. You had no trouble believing he used to have a crush on her.
“You mean the girl who had to move to another city after I sent her dad to prison on the very same night I stood her up to prom?”, Peter asked you sceptically. “Wild guess, but I might not be her favourite person in the World, not even after that memory spell.”
“But it’s not only her...”, you responded, getting ready to bring the most painful name into the conversation. “I mean... you were with MJ...”
Yeah. MJ.
His ex and first girlfriend. His only girlfriend before you.
MJ who was as tall as a model and rocked curls that wanted to make you cry.
You hadn’t met her in person either, at least not up-close, your interactions being limited to occasionally ending up in each other’s field of vision whenever you would attend the same class once a week, but just like he had done with Liz, Peter had told you everything about her. But, unlike what he had done with Liz, he had talked to her just last week. He had come to you right after, still incredulous, walking like a massive weight had just been taken off his shoulders, and he had informed you that MJ had asked him to introduce the two of you to each other.
“She’s still working on her social interactions and making new friends, so this is rich coming from her”, he had shared with you.
The next day, MJ had tentatively waved you goodbye right before she would leave the room and disappear in the gargantuan stream of students and teachers moving in all sorts of directions at variegated speeds.
Peter absently gave your hips a little squeeze, furrowing his brow in confusion. “... and now I’m with you, so?”
“S-she was your girlfriend...”
“And now she’s my friend.”
You insisted, confused by why he didn’t seem to follow you or your logic. “Only because things between the two of you didn’t end in a normal way.”
Which was also the reason why things between the two of you had not begun in a normal way.
“You’re right: they didn’t”, he nodded in agreement. “And I initially planned to rebuild things as they were. Telling her everything. Getting back with her.”
It didn’t matter how many times you had imagined him saying that – driven by the absurd belief that always assuming the worst things ever could protect you and your feelings – that sudden confession still knocked you down with the devastating strength of a hurricane. “And... and why didn’t you?”
“I did”, he told you seriously.
“Wait, what?”, you asked, out of breath, now finding yourself on the receiving end of news you had no idea how to process. “Y-you mean that she...”
“She knows.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
Your entire body stiffened, your mouth running dry as you had been left too stunned to speak, all those words whirling in your brain, breaking out of your head, aggressively rotating around you, making you feel like you’d been trapped in the eye of said hurricane.
“This is... fuck, I wanted to wait for you to meet them in person, but...”
In that cacophonic Hell, Peter’s voice was the only thing that make sense, the only sound dominating all the other ones, your last anchor to reality and sanity.
“Do you remember last week? When I went to talk to MJ?”
How could you forget?
“Yeah... uhm...” Peter interpreted your lack of reaction as a yes and went on telling you about that surreal – even for Spider-Man’s idea of surreal – afternoon. “Ned was there with us and... please, don’t ask me how, but he fixed it.”
“Fixed it?” You had no idea why you were repeating his words like a parrot, like you had trouble grasping their true meaning. It was blatantly clear that he was talking about that damn memory spell.
So, where was the problem? There was no problem, it was good news, something that should’ve made you happy for your boyfriend. And you were. You were happy. Then, why were you cold, all of a sudden? Why the fuck was your chest getting heavier and your legs getting weaker?
“They remember!”, Peter exclaimed, glad that he could finally share this with you. To Hell with the surprise, he didn’t want to hide anything else from you ever again. “Perks of having a Sorcerer best friend.”
“But then how... w-why aren’t you two...”, you stammered. “W- what happened?”
“You”, Peter answered with a disarming simplicity, his puppy eyes softening like he was experiencing the unique chance of looking at something mesmerizingly beautiful. “That’s what happened. You.”
“Plus, have you seen the way MJ looks at Mira?”, he pointed out, jokingly fanning himself like an outraged Victorian lady, but he dropped his act as soon as he realized that you couldn’t get that reference. “Oh right, of course you didn’t, we don’t have that class together... but, to give you the idea, she never once looked at me like that.”
He didn’t sound jealous while saying that. At all. If anything, he seemed rather amused. And inexplicably proud. However, none of that did anything to drag you out of the spiral you were plunging into headfirst.
“Pretty self-explanatory”, Peter commented, but the look on your face made his joy vanish into thin air. “Wait, what is it?”
“I-I ruined it...” You were shaking, not even trying to mask it anymore, staring at his face without really seeing him. That was all he was in your eyes right now, a splash of colour slightly more defined that what surrounded him, a lonely cherry petal floating on the surface of the abyss. “I ruined everything.”
“What do you mean ruined?”
“You could... you could’ve had your life back...” He had found a way to solve it. And yet, MJ wasn’t his girlfriend. And yet, he was here, stuck with you. “... b-but I got in the way...”
“Darling, no!”
You tried to detach yourself from him, but this time Peter didn’t allow it. “y/n. My love, look at me”, he pleaded, clinging to your body and resisting your attempts to break free from his hold. Not without difficulty – because, as much as he wanted to keep you there, he would never resort to overpower you with the help of his raw strength, at least not outside of the bedroom... –, he managed to make you sit in his lap.
“Please, look at me”, he begged, once you had stopped fighting back, seeing how pointless it was. He cradled you, raising your chin to have you meeting his gaze, feeling his heart crush into a hundred little pieces when he saw that you were crying. “It’s true, I could’ve had my old life back, and that was what I wanted”, he admitted, the enormous amount of speeches he had written, thrown away, practiced and practiced until he’d grown to hate them, vividly retuning to him.
“Or at least I thought it was what I wanted”, he corrected himself. “But then I met you.” He kissed the bridge of your nose, then looked at you with a determination that was extremely rare to find on his face when he wasn’t hiding behind his mask. Or when he wasn’t railing you into oblivion, but that was another story...
“And if having that life back means losing you... then I don’t want it”, he asserted firmly.
“Peter, that’s–”
“No, y/n, please, listen to me”, he stood his ground, giving up not even being considered as an option. “I got my friends back and it was more that I could’ve dreamed of.”
You shook your head, not believing that he could be okay with that. There was no way he could be okay with that.
“It’s true. And I managed to do that because of you. Thanks to you.” Peter tilted his head to the side, letting his eyes wander all over your face, before his lips took their place. He kissed your cheeks, your nose, your eyebrows, your forehead, your temples... not a single inch of skin was going to be left unattended.
Once again, Peter Parker took the pieces you had crumbled into, ignoring how sharp they might have been, and put them back together with the dedication of a Carthusian monk, like your mother would’ve said.
“You’ve been so kind and sweet and patient to me. You always make sure to save a seat for me, you always run up to me with your best most terrible jokes and listen to mine, you pass me all the notes every single time I miss a class. That lilac highlighter you always use reminds me of your bedroom. Everything is lilac in there. You’re so obsessed with that colour and it’s so freaking adorable. And I don’t know why, but the pages always smell like violets. It makes me think of your scarf, and how you always force me to wear it when I forget mine... like I’m not the one who recovers faster from a cold...”
To avoid getting drunk on his affection – or drunker, since you were definitely tipsy –, you pushed his face away, poking his cheek. “It’s because you’re such a drama queen when you get sick.” You couldn’t help teasing him, that tender goofy image of him, bundled up in at least three blankets, hungry for cuddles and asking for a kiss before and after taking each medicine, breaking down your resistance.
“And you still put up with me every time it happens. You and your pepper, honey and turmeric concoctions. And curiously, you always end up getting a cold as soon as I get better.”, he teased you back.
“Like that’s my fault”, you shot him a nasty look.
He winked at you, before he carried on with his monologue. “And maybe you think I don’t notice, but I know that you always mutter insults in your native language when you see that someone on patrol roughed me up.”
“H-how...?”
“I may not understand with my ears, but your face says enough”, he explained, squishing your cheeks, laughing when you swatted his hand away and stuck your tongue out at him. “You helped me improve my web shooters – Mr. Stark would’ve hired you right on the spot, which is why I keep telling you to apply for something there...”, he trailed off, the memory of his mentor hitting him harder than he expected it would.
You wordlessly scraped the nape of his neck, a little gesture to let him know that you were there for him like he was there for you, and he mouthed a ‘thank you’, rubbing his nose against yours.
“You made me try eyeliner for the first time.” To emphasize that, he even fluttered his eyelashes, getting so close to you the action tickled your cheekbone.
You had to appeal to every scrap of strength and determination you had not to blurt out how fucking good he looked. That day had marked you like an unremovable bloodstain, the black tears shining on his cheeks and following the path of his sharp jawline, and the heavenly moans you had coaxed out of him while kneeled between his legs were still an extremely appreciated company whenever you found yourself alone, longing for your crime-fighting boyfriend.
“The coffee shop guy hates me because every time I get there, I always pester him for violet-flavoured chocolate, but you should see the look on your face when you get it. I’ve never been so happy of having someone hating my guts.” He paused briefly, the light in his gaze getting duller, the ghost of his next words casting a shadow that followed him like an anathema.
“And May...”
You held your breath when you heard that name. It was very rare for Peter to talk about his aunt, and considering how much he had loved her, and the way she had been so tragically taken from him ahead of time, you didn’t find it hard to believe.
“May would’ve adored you”, he told you candidly, with all the love he was capable of pouring into you through that statement. “You keep calling me selfless and a hero, but you should look at yourself in the mirror. This strength you have...” He was at loss for words for a few instants, the lump in his throat making it difficult for him to speak. “I don’t think you see its full potential, but I’ve only witnessed it once, and it was in her, before I could find it again in you.”
It was like reliving that scene all over again, like seeing May all over again, facing Norman with that absurdly foolish courage that animated her, ready to give it all to protect her nephew, the boy she had dedicated her own life to, raising him like a son.
The comforting feeling of your hand on his face felt like the touch of an angel. “You’re here whenever I wake up from a nightmare”, Peter forced himself to continue. “You kiss my cheeks every time I cry...”
Just like he had done to you.
“I couldn’t think of a day that doesn’t begin or end in your arms.”
“Peter...”
“And I hate to make this all about me, because it sounds like I am, but you have to believe me when I tell you that whatever I did, it was you who gave me the courage to do it”, he added, but if you though that he might’ve been done, boy were you wrong.
Peter Benjamin Parker was on his personal mission: letting you know how much your existence had impacted his own and there was nothing that could stop him now. “I don’t think you understand how important you are to me.” Without waiting for an answer, he took your hand, reverently bringing it up to his forehead and then to his lips for a quick peck, only to place it right above his heart and keep it there, right under his.
“You gave me my life back. Not that old one. A new one. Mine. A life with you in it. Which is the most perfect life I could’ve asked for. And I didn’t settle for it. I wanted it. I chose it. And I keep wanting it and choosing it every day.”
“Stop...”, you chocked on your own sob. There was only so much positivity, let alone love, you could handle being thrown at you without feeling like an undeserving fraud, and Peter had made the choice to unleash the entire load on you. Your heart was going crazy, literally banging against your ribcage, desperately trying to reach out to his palm, to him, like a sentient being. “Please, stop, I... I-I can’t...”
“Shh, it’s okay”, he whispered, moving your hair away from your face and neck so that he could kiss any reachable inch of your skin. “It’s okay, I’m here.” He held you as close as possible, forcing his heartbeat against yours, hoping that its rhythm could tell you everything his words weren’t able to convey. “My love. My beautiful, beautiful love.”
You didn’t believe in God: despite the enthusiastic religious education you had received during your childhood, you had turned out to be a pretty sceptical teen-ager and a firmly convinced atheist later on, but in moments like this – which you were lucky enough to see happen on a daily basis – you found yourself wondering which deity you should be thanking for putting Peter on your path. Or you on his, you didn’t really care.
He had casted a shade of gold on your existence, the dull, toned-down scale of greys you had gotten used to, and that were convinced would follow you to the grave, were now nothing but a pale memory. The burning red that had previously blinded you and cruelly ripped your heart right out of your chest – that being the reason behind you getting thrown under that grey sky – was gradually loosening its grip on you, as Peter’s light shone brighter and brighter with each passing day.
Once you’d poured everything out, both the incredulity and the unadulterated joy, you sniffed loudly, no room left for grace. “You should be illegal, Parker”, your voice was hoarse because of the tears, but you didn’t care. There’s no way being such a perfect boyfriend and an amazing human being isn’t a crime.”
You knew your journey wasn’t over, and episodes like this were the living proof that you still had a long way to go. But you were healing. And Peter was by your side. And that was all that mattered.
“We’d be locked up together, then”, he chuckled. “You’re stuck with me, y/n l/n.” He had to bite his tongue not to call you with his last name. He recently had been dreaming of it, sharing a future with you. And not just as in daydreaming about it, but as in actually dreaming of it, to the point where he had cried like a baby right after waking up, unwed and without the beautiful children he had fallen head over heels with. He could still see their faces, a fascinatingly realistic combination of you and him on their chubby features...
But this wasn’t the right moment, he needed a distraction and he needed it fast, before he’d fall to his knees in front of you, offering you a piece of paper folded in the shape of a ring along with his hand in marriage. “Oh, Ned wants to meet you, too, by the way.”
You pulled back a bit, just enough to look at him, a heart-stopping smirk animating your lips. “Does he?”
“Yeah. You better get ready for our embarrassing first kiss experiment story”, he suggested, raising his eyes to the ceiling. He adored Ned to bits, but he had all sorts of anecdotes about him – especially now that his memory was back and stronger than ever – and sometimes he couldn’t decide whether this was a curse or a blessing. “He says that if you want to be the second in command of my Legendary Guy-In-The-Chair, you have to know it.”
“Can’t wait”, you grinned, raising an eyebrow at him. “I might ask him if you learned that tongue thing from him.”
“Nuh-uh”, he denied proudly. “That’s a natural talent, baby.” He was lying without an ounce of remorse, wanting nothing more than to impress you. Of course, he saw that you saw right through him, but it didn’t matter. “I love you.”
You made yourself comfortable in his arms, cuddling up to him and craning your neck. “Thank you.”
He pulled away, not willing to give you what you wanted until you would stop thanking him for what was rightfully yours to take. “Try again, darling.”
“I love you.” Your voice was low, barely audible even from the other side of the room. You had always been told that love was supposed to be loud all the time to be considered real, that the World needed to know about it for it to exist. It was okay, though. Your World had heard it. And that was enough.
Peter nodded, satisfied by that, before capturing your lips into a kiss. He could read you like an open book and he knew exactly what, how and when you needed it. Now, you needed him to be gentle, and gentle was what he gave you, keeping it slow and soft, fingertips leaving goose bumps along your throat, tracing the line of your jaw, tilting your chin to guide you into the kiss. “That’s my girl”, he gushed when you parted.
The praise gave an additional boost of energy to the already restless butterflies inside your stomach, and you hid your face into the crook of his neck. “Can we always be this close?”
“Forever and ever, darling.”
Tumblr media
A/n: There it is! Gotta be honest, I’m not the biggest fan of this, the prompt was lovely, and I loved working on it, but I wasn’t in my best mental space when I wrote it (I was literally going through one of my regular writing crisis and considered deleting all my works) and... Idk, I hope you all liked it. Let me know what you think, if you want, you know how much it means to me 💜💜💜
Taglist: @thollandsdarling @hunnybunimdun @namoreno @nocturnalms @vendettaparker @wildxwidow @mn-jun @thisisparadisemylove @belovedholland @blankspaceblankday
Peter Parker taglist: @omegadumb42069 @spideyspeaches
(Let me know if you wanna be added or removed, add yourself to my taglist or follow me on my writing side-blog @lia-s-liabrary and turn the notifications on)
288 notes · View notes
licensedqueerio · 2 years
Note
I have a request for a story. If your requests arnt still open that fine you can ignore this or keep it for later. Peter P. specifically AG
After/during the cross over. Im TH Peter Ps Bestfriend ive known him longer than Ned.
When MJ falls off the building TH Peter catches her. But AG peter catches me.
When that happens TH Peter P doesn't pay any mind to me falling and ONLY MJ, That puts a few negative feelings in my head, but ones that aren't selfish. So its more of " He didn't care that I was going to die" appose to " Wow hed pick his girl over me" type thing if you even understand what I mean.
That sets off a chain of events leading to me n AG Peter together or smt.
Whew it took me forever to get this out, and for that, you have my sincerest apologies. The ending is a bit rushed, but I didn't really want to wait any longer to post this, but I hope you enjoy!!
Also, sidenote, I have no clue about timeline and how many years isn't been since Endgame so the exact years are kept vague. And I hope no one minds, I talked about what I think it was like for the people who survived after Thanos' snap, maybe he was right--as terrible as that is. Hate to say it, but what do I know.
---
Word Count: 2.5k
Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings: No Way Home spoilers, mentions of death, injuries, suicidal implications if you squint
Request Here
Part Two
---
Your friendship with Peter began when you were children. Peter was the nerdy kid who’d stay inside all of recess reading or tinkering with some toy. And you were the nice, friendly kid. Praised by your teachers and usually the go-to kid to make friends with kids like Peter.
You did it, of course. You'd sit with Peter as he went on about what comics he liked or TV shows. Who his favorite superhero was—real or fake. And you nodded along and tried to understand what he was talking about.
As time went on, your bond grew. You stayed friends for years. You were there for him every step of the way.
When he got bit by that spider, you were the first to know. You poked fun at him for his first costume, because that’s what friends did. You worried about him day in and day out when he went patrolling. And you bet your ass you gave him so much shit for disappearing to Germany when he fought half the Avengers.
Then Thanos happened. Peter left with nothing more than an “I have to help,” before jumping out of the bus. And that was the last time you had seen him. That had been the last time you’d seen any of your friends.
You were one of the select few that wasn't blipped. Lucky in some eyes, unlucky in others. You had mixed feelings about it, honestly. You didn't disappear, but…Peter did. Your best friend since kindergarten was gone. Hell, almost everyone you knew was gone. Peter, Ned, MJ. All gone.
But…you moved on. You had no choice but to move on with your life and adapt to the new situation, no matter how hard it was.
At your graduation, you cried. Half of your senior class was missing. Half of the world population was dead. And the people who were left had no choice but to continue on with life. The wheel of life kept turning. You adapted or you got left behind.
You wouldn’t be left behind. You’d live. For Peter. For Ned, for MJ.
You got into college and got a job to support yourself. Ironically, wages were better than ever now that half the population was gone. And everywhere was hiring, so finding and securing a job wasn’t difficult.
And you lived. You bought an actual home for decently cheap after a years hard work. You couldn’t stand to live on campus. Not when the blip was the only thing people talked about.
Four years later, the blip…was a thing of the past. People of course talked about it still, but not as much. Life was drastically improving. Poverty went down. Homelessness was all but over with. You hated to even think it, but the blip did bring good things for those left.
You got your college diploma and couldn’t stop thinking about how proud Peter would’ve been. You didn’t stop smiling that day, looking back on old photographs of the two of you wishing he was here, but understanding he was gone.
But then they came back.
By some…miracle or curse, every single person who disappeared reappeared. Horrifically, they appeared right where they had vanished from. Death was rampant that day.
You heard horror stories of how people had appeared back in building that had been taken down and perished. Of people who appeared on roads or highways. People on boats. It was a nightmare. You couldn’t stomach looking at the news that day.
The family—or should you say children—that had lived in your house before appeared in the living room and freaked out. You had the unfortunate pleasure of informing them five years had passed. That you were living there. Whispers of reassurances and heart wrenching confessions of, “I’m sorry, I don’t know where your parents are.”
That year had been the worst year of your entire life. The death rate skyrocketed along with homelessness. Wages dropped. People were going hungry again because there just wasn't enough food to go around.
But perhaps the worst thing that happened was Peter returning. As terrible as that sounded. Peter came back as a 16 year old boy while you were now 21. You had lived your life while his was on pause.
It didn’t feel fair. To either of you.
But humanity did what it did best. It adapted. You adapted to having Peter back. Even though you didn’t see him often. That was your fault, though. You’d grown apart from him in those five years. For him, nothing had changed.
On a good day, you could barely stomach looking at him. On a bad day, you wished everyone had stayed blipped. That Peter had stayed dead like you thought he’d been. Your grief had been invalidated. Those sleepless nights where you wished for the comforting arms of your closest friends felt pointless. And Peter couldn’t even begin to grasp what you were feeling.
So naturally, you grew apart. But then you realized you still missed him. So you grew close again. And all was calm. Things finally started to look like they were heading upwards once again.
But things could never really stay calm. Not in New York.
The multiverse opened, because of course it did, and villains were coming in looking for Spider-Man. And then two other Spider-Men had come into this universe to defeat said villains.
All of these events led to this singular moment. You were falling. But you felt like you were floating, traveling in slow motion through the air, your arms stretched out, seeking to grab something—anything—to save yourself.
Your mouth was open mid scream, barely audible over the roaring wind in your ears and the hammering of your heartbeat, blood rushing in your ears. You knew then that everyone was right. Your life did flash before your eyes when you were about to die.
With the realization that this was it. You were about to die after being thrown from the statue of liberty, everything came rushing back. You were falling fast through the air, the air punched out of your lungs. You turned your head.
You weren’t sure what possessed you to do so, but you did. And you saw Peter jump off the building. He was going for MJ.
In some sick sense, you thought it was karma. You ignored him for the better part of a year. Treated him coldly. And in your moment of need, he didn’t even notice you. He went after his girlfriend.
You squeezed your eyes shut with the realization that this was it. No one was coming to save you.
Finally. It was over. Your time in this nightmare of a universe was over.
But then, there were arms around you. Your falling slowed until you came to a standstill. You took short, fast breaths as you opened your eyes, staring at Peter…2? No—no, this was Peter 3 if you weren’t mistaken. He had amazing hair and was…gorgeous, to put it simply.
“Are you okay?” He asked. His eyes were glassy and the words came out thick. You distantly recalled him mentioning he lost someone. His MJ. You didn’t know the details but you just knew it happened in a similar scene to your current situation.
You slowly nodded. “Are you?” You returned, staring up into his eyes. You could've sworn you saw a tear roll down his cheek. You didn’t mention it.
Peter 3’s smile was watery as he delicately set you back on your feet. “Yeah,” he said, before clearing his throat. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, placing his hands on your shoulders and looking you over.
“Yeah I’m…” Your voice trailed off as you caught sight of Peter—your Peter, behind him. Holding MJ in his arms. You let out a breath of relief. You were at least glad she was okay. Peter had saved her.
You expected him to look at you. To at least spare you a glance and make sure you weren't dead on the pavement. But no. He didn’t even notice you. He didn’t see you fall.
Somehow, that was worse than him intentionally going for MJ over you.
Peter 3 waved his hand in front of your face. “You don’t seem alright,” he stated with a frown. “You could be in shock, you should sit—”
“Yeah, I’m just…he doesn’t care,” you murmured. You didn’t want to sound…selfish or anything. You were fine but it was the principal of the matter. Your Peter had been too focused on MJ to even realize you had also fallen. Jesus, you could have died.
“Hey, that's not true,” Peter 3 said. “I’m sure he cares. It's just….adrenaline. He saw her fall first,” he tried to reassure and soothe. “Look—he’s seen you,” he pointed out.
You looked up to see Peter looking between you and Peter 3. He weakly smiled, holding a thumbs up. You weren’t convinced.
“...okay, I didn’t believe that either,” Peter 3 conceded. “But I’m sure he cares. Of course he does. You guys are best friend’s, right?” He squeezed your shoulder. “He cares.”
You were beginning to doubt that.
“He disappeared for five years. Life went on for me, we’re hardly even friends anymore,” you muttered. “It’s fine,” you dismissed.
---
Things only went downhill from there.
Your Peter tried to kill the Green Goblin. Peter 2 stopped him. Peter 3 was stabbed. The multiverse was broken and everyone who knew Peter Parker is Spider-Man was coming into this universe. You could see Strange casting a spell, but you were a little preoccupied.
You hurried over to Peter 3, who was still on the ground. You kneeled down at his side, “you okay, Spider?” You asked, trying for teasing, but the concern outweighed it.
Peter 3 grimaced as he nodded. “First time I’ve been stabbed, woohoo,” he half-heartedly cheered, attempting to push himself up into a sitting position. “And it’s Spider-Man.”
“Here, let me help you,” you said, putting his arm around your shoulder and helping him to his feet, bearing a lot of his weight. “How’ve you not been stabbed yet? My Peter’s been stabbed.”
“Your Peter?” He asked. “Thought you weren’t friends?”
“Peter 1,” you clarified. “He’s not mine, of course, but he’s—he’s from my universe. Besides, he’s still so young.”
“I got it,” Peter 3 nodded, inhaling sharply and holding his side. “So there’s a chance for a guy like me?” He asked wryly.
“A guy like you?” You asked, raising a brow.
“Y’know,” he grinned, gesturing to himself with his free hand. “Guy like me.” He shrugged, that goofy grin still on his face. You had to admit, it was cute. He was cute.
“We’re from different universes,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist, mindful of his injury. “So, ‘fraid not.”
Peter 3’s grin didn’t falter. “Can I at least get a kiss goodbye?” He asked. “I think the wizard is ready to send us home,” he said, pointing up to where Doctor Strange was doing his thing. “I can promise I’m not as young as Peter 1.”
You looked at him, debating your choices. What's the worst that could happen? This was the only chance you would get since he was going back to his universe. It’s not like your life could get any worse than it had been.
“Only because you're injured,” you lied, like you didn’t want to kiss him just for the hell of it. You turned to face him better, lifting your hand. Your fingertips traced up his cheeks before burying in the hair behind his ears. Running your fingers through it, just to sate the urge you had since you saw it. Then you leaned in and captured his lips in a kiss.
The smile fell off his lips as he kissed you back.
After a moment, he pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours, a dopey smile spreading across his lips. “I think I’m all healed now,” he said with a laugh, pulling away completely, turning to Peter 2, who was staring up at the sky that was fixing itself.
“...I think this is goodbye,” Peter 3 said. The hand that hung off your shoulder raised into a peace sign, which Peter 2 returned just before he faded away.
“Goodbye,” you murmured, kissing his cheek as he too, began to fade.
But instead of feeling his weight disappear like you expected, everything faded to black.
---
You woke up with a sharp inhale, groaning at the splitting sensation in your head. You squinted at the white ceiling as you struggled to recall what had happened. You drew a big blank and sat up slowly. You felt like you’d been hit by a truck.
You looked around the…bedroom you were in. It was messy, for starters. And you didn’t recognize it at all. Not the pictures, map, and sticky notes pinned to the corkboard or the Albert Einstein photo on one of the doors.
You turned as the window scraped open, staring in confusion as Spider-Man climbed in. But he froze when he saw you, ripping the mask off, eyes wide. “What are you doing here!?” He exclaimed, voice rising in both pitch and volume.
“What are you!” You exclaimed in equal surprise. “Where am I!? What’s going on?” You demanded.
Peter 3 stared at you with his mouth hanging open. He shut the wind and stumbled over his things until he stood in front of where you sat on his bed. “This is…my universe,” Peter said. “You’re in my bedroom. I—the spell returned me to this point in time. Right before Max died. But he didn’t. Max is fine. Gwen is fine, she’s on a plane to Oxford right now, and Harry—Harry got arrested, but he’s fine.”
You stared at him in disbelief. “I’m…” Your sentence hung in the air, unfinished as you stared at him harder. He looked younger. Which made sense, you supposed. He’d been returned to the past, right before Electro died. And somehow, he brought you with him.
You really hated the multiverse right about now.
“I don’t understand," you said. "I'm not from this universe, why would I—this makes absolutely no sense!" You laughed, gripping your hair as you leaned forward. "This is unbelievable."
"Hey—don't worry. Uh, we may not have wizards but I sure we can find some way to—" Peter stammered over his words.
You stood up, interrupted his nervous tirade, and kissed him. Because right now he was the only constant you had. The only familiar thing you had right now.
And maybe things would be alright. Maybe you'd go back to your own universe. Or maybe you'd stay in this one. Would that really be the end of the world?
321 notes · View notes
kitkatdoodlez · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
You know it’s not the same....
203 notes · View notes
rrodgers · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
literally ive never has this much gender envy before I want to be them so bad I scoured my entire fucking house for my retro sunglasses just to look like doc ock and i couldnt find them so I cried.
181 notes · View notes
tawaifeddiediaz · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The damage, the destruction, you saw it with your own eyes. When will people wake up and realize that everywhere Spider-Man goes, chaos and calamity ensue. Everything Spider-Man touches comes to ruin. And we, the innocents, are left to pick up the pieces.
(or, the moment Peter’s broken heart shattered for good.)
[Image ID: five rectangular gifs of Tom Holland as Peter Parker from Spider-Man: No Way Home. Peter is standing in Times Square in the middle of the rain, staring at a large billboard of J. Jonah Jameson reporting the destruction at Happy's apartment:
GIF 1: A closeup side-shot of Peter, his face cut at various places and bruised. His expression is devastated as he stands in the rain, water dripping from his soaked hair and off his nose. His face is awash in red light before it fades out.
GIF 2: A continuation of GIF 1, the camera circling around towards the front.
GIF 3: A continuation of GIFs 1 and 2, Peter tilting his gaze upwards to look at the screen.
GIF 4: A wide shot of Peter standing alone in his Spider-Man suit, clutching his mask, a small silhouette as he stands in front of the wide billboard. J. Jonah Jameson is reporting with a dire expression on his face.
GIF 5: Peter looking upwards, looking lost, alone and devastated as a raindrop drips from his brow down his cheek, mimicking a tear.
/end ID]
128 notes · View notes
chokemewanda · 2 years
Text
Begin Again
Bucky Barnes x f!reader
Masterlist
Part two / Part Three
Warnings: pining, tfatws spoilers, Spiderman nwh spoilers, slight angst
Bucky saw you for the first time since the days following the final battle with Thanos in Sam’s favorite coffee shop in Louisiana. It was a tiny, hole in the wall and the coffee was mediocre at best. Sam only went there because his parents had their first date in the very same booth you were now sitting in.
Of all the places he had expected to see you again, well, it hadn’t been here. He had hoped in those first few months that you’d come back, show up on his doorstep like you had never left. He gave up on that thought, knowing he’d probably never see you again.
He imagined that very same smile you wore right now and how he’d tell you what he had never told you. All those things he had held inside. The things he should have told you when you showed up in Wakanda with Steve.
The space across from you was empty but there was a coffee waiting for whoever would join you. Bucky knew it was for him. He didn’t know how you found him, how you always found him.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Bucky took his seat and your smile only grew as you looked him over in a way that made him wish he had shaved this morning or done something with his hair.
“James, how are you?” You didn’t act surprised in the slightest to see him almost two thousand miles from his home. In your defense, you had never been surprised. Not where Bucky was concerned.
“Good, ‘m good.” He told you and you raised an eyebrow, looking him over again in a way that convinced him you lied when you said you couldn’t read minds. “I didn’t know you were back on Earth.”
“Not very long. Came to see you first. You weren’t in your apartment.” You asked in that way that wasn’t really asking. You did that a lot and in the beginning Bucky had presumed it was disinterest on your part. Now he knew that you never had to ask, not really.
“Sam wanted to see his family.” Bucky offered in explanation and you tilted your head. He knew what you were thinking. A lot had happened since you had left with Thor to join the rag tag group that called themselves the Guardians of the Galaxy.
“Things are better.” There was that question that wasn’t really a question. Bucky knew it was easy to tell by looking at him. He wasn’t the PTSD ridden nightmare you had left behind. He still had his moments but there was better ones now. Happy ones.
“How long are you staying for?” He didn’t mean Louisiana. He didn’t want you to leave and yet he knew you would. Your wanderlust spanned further than tropical holidays. You wanted to see the universe. As much of it as possible. He knew that.
“A while. I want to check in with everyone. Drink your coffee, it’s your favorite.” He didn’t tell you that his tastes had changed in the time you had been gone. He no longer favored bitter, black coffee. He knew by glancing at the cup you had already known. The frothy milk stared back at him. “Where’s Sam?”
“With his sister and the kids.” Bucky answered before taking a drink the vanilla hitting his tongue and making him hum. “You wanna go see him?”
“We’ve got time. Wanted to see you first.” You told him honestly, taking his vibranium hand across the table. “Missed you.”
“So why’d you leave then?” He asked before he could stop himself. He had grown slightly bitter in your time apart. Everyone left him. Everyone important to him. Steve was gone, Natasha was gone and here you were, popping up like nothing had changed.
“You didn’t need me as much as you thought you did.” You told him, not releasing his hand. Bucky had usually found comfort in your calm. He had gravitated towards you every time you had been near him. Now it grated on his nerves.
“Could’ve used your help once or twice.” He grunted and you only smiled. He sipped his coffee with his free hand and you mimicked him, sipping at your own. “Sam gave up the mantle.”
“Why did he do that?” You already knew. He could see it in your eyes. He saw it in your eyes the day Steve gave Sam the shield. The day before you left.
“Thought no one could fill Steve’s shoes.” Bucky grunted again, eyes on where your hands were joined. He pulled his own hand back, resting it in his lap. “There was trouble. A lot of it.”
“So tell me about it.” Bucky tried to explain everything. Explain Karli and John Walker and all that had happened. He told you about that kid, he really was just a kid, that John had killed. He told you about it all and how he had played into it.
You listened to it as your coffee grew cold and he found himself telling you other things. He told you about Yuri, how he felt about Steve leaving. He stopped himself before telling you how he felt about you leaving.
“He’s a good man. Sam.” Bucky finished and you nodded slowly as you took it all in. He waited for your response but nodding seemed to be all you were going to offer. “How much of that did you know?”
“Very little.” You admitted in a rare show of honesty. Bucky appraised you as you seemed to be thinking hard about something. “Why didn’t you call in the others?”
“The others?” Bucky asked in confusion and you blinked at him. He only shrugged. He wasn’t sure why it hadn’t crossed his mind. This was something he and Sam had to do together.
“Wanda could’ve helped. Clint, Peter or even Bruce.” You supplied and Bucky tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed.
“Quil was with you.” He said and then wondered if you had been with Thor all this time. You weren’t the type to stick around for too long. Something you demonstrated time and time again.
“Not Peter Quil. Parker, Peter Parker.” Bucky shook his head with a shrug and a genuine frown replaced your usual neutral expression. “You have been checking up on him? Right? Like I asked you to?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Bucky said slowly and your frown deepened as you sat forward, elbows on the table. “I don’t know a Peter Parker.”
“Have you been forgetting again?” You asked softly and Bucky flinched back as if you had struck him. He didn’t forget anything anymore and sometimes that was the problem. He wished he could forget sometimes, wished the pain would be taken away when he couldn’t remember the loss.
“No. I don’t do that anymore.” He argued and you sat back, frowning again. He watched as your frown slipped away to something more neutral. You finished your coffee, indicating for him to do the same.
“I’d like to see Sam now, if that okay.” You told him and Bucky felt doubt claw at his mind. Was he beginning to forget again? He tossed a couple of dollars on the table and led you from the coffee shop.
///
“Look who it is.” Sam cheered when you stepped in behind Bucky. He was sat at the table with his nephews working on some sort of Lego set. He stood to greet you, wrapping you in a warm hug.
“Long time no see, Captain America.” You smiled and Sam’s grin only grew, his gap tooth making an appearance and endearing you so much that you hugged him again. “I missed you.”
Bucky didn’t feel so special anymore when he heard your words. He stood in the doorway with his arms folded and Sam only had to look at him once to know something was wrong.
“I spend months trying to get this hard ass to smile and one conversation with you turns him sour.” Sam berated and you shrugged, looking back at Bucky with a gentle smile.
“Can we talk?” You asked Sam and he looked to Bucky who only sighed, taking a seat at the table with Sam’s nephews. He engaged them in conversation as the pair of you slipped out the door.
“Something wrong?” Sam asked immediately, his carefree attitude long gone, his smile too. You only linked your arm with his, walking aimlessly away from the house belonging to his sister. “You know I’ve had enough trouble with Bucky this last while. I don’t need you helping him out.”
“Have you noticed the holes in his memory?” You asked and Sam stopped in place, looking back to the house. He had left Bucky alone with his family. “He’s not dangerous. I don’t think. He’s just forgetting.”
“What’d he forget?” Sam asked, still hesitating on going any further away. He had left his shield in the house. “Your anniversary?”
“Don’t be funny. He doesn’t remember Peter.” You explained, heart aching for the child who had been abandoned. He’d be almost college age now and you frowned.
“Space lord? The guy you left with?” Sam asked, evidentially catching up on your concern. “Man, he talks about you guys like once a week. Always on my ass about what you could be doing.”
You smiled gently before taking in Sam’s words, eyebrows furrowing again as your frown returned. Quil should not be their automatic presumption for a Peter.
“Peter Parker.” You said slowly and Sam shook his head. “Spiderman?”
“I shouldn’t be surprised you know Spiderman too. You’ll have to introduce him to us. Could always use a helping hand.” Sam laughed and you stepped back from him, tilting your head.
“You’ve met him. You know him.” You told Sam who shook his head. “Yes you do, Sam. He was there, in the battle. He was at Tony’s funeral. He’s just a kid.”
“I’ve never met Spiderman. Either has Bucky.” Sam told you slowly and you withdrew from the conversation entirely, a hand covering your mouth as you absorbed the information.
Excuses could be made for Bucky forgetting Peter. Shuri worked wonders on his mind but there could’ve been things that slipped through. Sam had no such excuse and that scared you. It scared you more than you were willing to admit.
///
Sam returned to the house without you, resting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder gently. “You’re not forgetting.”
“She seemed sure I was.” Bucky told him but Sam only shook his head, taking his seat at the table and continuing to help his nephews with their Lego. Bucky looked back to the door, wishing you’d be standing there, that same smile on your lips.
You didn’t come back.
Summer is officially here along with all the ideas I’ve been suppressing since college started back. So please accept the spam of fics I’ll be posting
115 notes · View notes
spawnedspooky · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
Hey, kiddos! My Doc Ock Babysitting poster is now in my shop! Link below! n.n
91 notes · View notes
Note
I feel like ever since NWH introduced MCU stans who watch nothing else to the non-MCU Spider-Man films, they keep slapping their weird fandom tropes onto the (previously) non-MCU characters? Especially variations of Irondad, but with the (white) scientist villains, now that Tony is dead. Like, you have Otto and Norman (and maybe Curt) adopting Tom!Peter as his new science dads; Otto adopting Tobey!Peter, even though Tobey!Peter is also in his forties and only recognises Uncle Ben as his father; and the way some parts of fandom talk about Norman is bringing back memories of Tony stans trying to re-write him as some kind of X-coded oppressed minority who's not responsible for his actions at all, though I think that last part can also be blamed on NWH re-writing him as a good man with a split personality instead of the original take in the Raimi films where he was already a bad person, and the Goblin is his darker impulses with no restraint.
Yeah, I'm begging everyone to rewatch the original movies before writing any fanfic with them haha.
Also, sick of people not owning up their faves mistakes and having to victimize them to excuse their actions. If you like a flawed character, own up to it. It's okay!
85 notes · View notes
unicornspwnall · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
SPIDER-MAN NO WAY HOME: THE MORE FUN STUFF (2022) dir. Jon Watts
524 notes · View notes
americaswritings · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Peter Parker (Spider-Man: No Way Home) icons pt. I
Like or reblog if you save or use!
84 notes · View notes
pastafossa · 2 years
Note
Idk if you have already or have plans to see the extended no way home in theatres but I’m seeing it tomorrow and I’m so excited to see the extra Matt scene!!!
So I saw it in theatres (literally I think one of only two movies I saw in theatres so far since the pandemic, had to mask and glove and go at a weird time but WORTH IT) B U T that was before the extra Matt scene, and I'm itching to see it again just for that! Don't get me wrong, I loved the movie even aside from that, Spidey was the first superhero movie I really latched onto as a teen/kid, but Matt made it EVEN BETTER. And now I WANT THE EXTRA SCENE, I NEED IT, I BREATHE IT, I WANT IT SHOT DIRECTLY INTO MY VEINS
24 notes · View notes
justapurrcat · 2 years
Text
Penguin Crush | p.b.p.
Tumblr media
Pairing: college!Peter Parker x fem!reader
Excerpt: “Peter Parker, the lovely guy with a kind word for everyone, was alone. Even when he was with other people, he was alone. And it wasn’t a normal loneliness, oh no: it came from within, the way monsters of the past did, ready to jump at his throat at the smallest display of weakness.”
Warnings: English not being my first language, possible typos, fluff, a bit of angst, silly dialogues, mentions of sex, NWH spoilers, Tom!Peter (aged up)
Status: Completed (but I might add more if I get inspired)
Peter Parker Masterlist
General Masterlist
Tumblr media
Baby Penguins and Popping Legs
“Peter Parker, the lovely guy with a kind word for everyone, was alone. Even when he was with other people, he was alone. And it wasn’t a normal loneliness, oh no: it came from within, the way monsters of the past did, ready to jump at his throat at the smallest display of weakness.”
Crush Tingle
“Ever since you’d told him you found his drunk persona to have so much in common with them, penguin compilations had become one of his favourite things to watch in dead moments. He claimed he was doing it so that he could take notes in order to keep your interest alive. And also because he wanted to find out what you had seen in him that made you decide you wanted him to be the one who would make your leg pop.
But those cute memories weren’t enough to chase away the cloud that was coming together in your mind, nor to fill the pit that was forming in your stomach.” 
(Let me know if you wanna be added or removed to my taglist for this series or add yourself to it or follow me on my writing side-blog @lia-s-liabrary and turn the notifications on)
110 notes · View notes
licensedqueerio · 2 years
Note
Begging you for a part 2 of this 😭😭💕 you’re so talented
Thank you!! And here you go! A direct continuation of where the last part ended. Enjoy.
---
Word Count: 2.6k
Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings: N/A
Request Here
---
Peter pulled away from the kiss, his hands resting on your shoulders. “Is this my fault?” He fearfully whispered. “Because we were touching, and the magic just brought you along with me—this is all my fault," he miserably moaned.
You frowned at him. “No,” you said, “it’s not your fault, if anything it’s my fault. I’m the one that kissed your cheek.” You sunk back onto his bed, “it’s not your fault.”
Peter didn’t look reassured, hands scrubbing over her face as he began to pull his suit off, walking to his closet as he spoke. “You don’t seem as freaked out as I imagined. We don't have wizards in this universe…I don’t know if we’ll be able to send you home. I’m so sorry,” he said with feeling, yanking the top part of suit off and replacing it with a shirt.
“Peter,” you said, wishing he was closer so you could hold his hands and try and comfort him. “It’s okay,” you reassured. The irony. You were in a universe that wasn’t your own and you were comforting him.
But then again, you weren’t freaking out. Not too much anyways, but Peter seemed to think this entire ordeal was his fault, even though it wasn’t. At least, you didn’t think it was.
Peter shook his head, stripping out of the rest of his suit. “How is this okay!?” He exclaimed, hopping on one foot as he pulled sweatpants on. “I took you from your home! Your universe! Probably permanently!” He won the battle with his sweatpants and approached the bed. He looked like he was having a proper existential crisis.
“My universe isn't worth living in anyway, Peter,” you said, trying to get him out of that guilt mindset. “Did Peter 1 tell you about our universe? About the sheer horror that living is?” You asked, fighting to keep your temper in check. You weren’t angry at him, more about your whole universe situation.
Peter’s shocked stare was answer enough. “How can you say that?” He asked eventually, panic giving way to confusion. “Your family and friends are there. How can you say it’s not worth living in?”
His crushed expression made you sigh. “I’m five years older than all my friends. My family was killed during the blip. Trust me, it…it could be good to start new. With you.”
“What are you talking about?” Peter asked as he finally sat down on his bed beside you. “Blip?”
And so you told Peter about the horrors of your universe. You tried to simplify it so he would explain it, before realizing he was insanely smart and you didn’t have to dumb it down for him.
You had to start at the beginning so he understood it all. He wanted to know everything. Apparently, there were no Avengers in this universe. Perhaps…perhaps that was for the best. Life was simpler. But you told him about Tony Stark. Big man in a suit of armour. Hero and savior of Earth thanks to his sacrifice. Then about Steve Rogers, the soldier lost in time. And down the line of the Avengers.
Then about the Battle of New York and Loki. Then Sokovia and Ultron.
He loved the idea of artificial intelligence and was simply in awe when you told him about Vision.
You told him about the Avengers' big fight that Peter 1 fought in Germany. He really loved that.
And then…the mood grew somber.
“Aliens, to put it simply, arrived in 2016,” you said. “Tore up New York. Again. They fought the Avengers and the Wakandans in Wakanda. In space too. That’s where Peter 1 was fighting. He stowed away on the spaceship and he fought Thanos personally,” you said quietly, twisting the hem of your shirt around your finger.
“He told us about that,” Peter recalled. “Purple guy, right?”
You nodded. “He’s the one who sent Loki. He’s the reason for the Battle of New York. He wanted the infinity stones I told you about. And he got them. He took one from Strange and then came to Earth and took the last one out of Vision's head,” you said, recalling what Tony had told you. Once, when you summed up the guts to talk to him about what happened and finally ask what happened to Peter. It broke your heart.
Peter grimaced.
“Once he had all the stones, all he had to do was snap his fingers. And half of all living things on Earth disappeared,” your bottom lip wobbled. “Turn to ash right in front of us. That was the blip. It lasted for five years. That’s why I’m five years older than all my friends. Everyone I knew was blipped,” you sighed.
“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Peter said genuinely. “I’m so sorry, that sounds…heartbreaking to deal with. I’m sorry you had to do it alone, he said pulling you in for a hug. “I understand why you don’t want to go back.
“But?” You mumbled against his shoulder. “There’s always a but.”
“But, you don’t…belong in this universe. I don’t think you exist. Or at least I’ve never encountered you. We have to find a way to send you home,” Peter said, rather weakly.
“No,” you said. “You don’t have the technology nor the…magic to send me back, so I’m stuck here. Whether I like it or not. And I won't let you destroy yourself trying to find a way to do it. Just…please. Let it go. What’s done is done.”
Peter sighed, leaning his head against yours. After a long moment, he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “If that’s what you want, okay. We’ll deal with this together.”
You smiled. “Thank you, Peter,” you murmured.
---
Explaining to May who you were was easy enough. Peter had spun an elaborate story about you being one of his classmates—whom he got close to during a collaborative assignment for class. And that now that you had graduated and were of age, you had nowhere to go. (apparently in his story your parents had cast you out, so that was fun).
May allowed you to stay for as long as you needed, which you would forever be eternally grateful for. She was such a nice woman, and it was entertaining to hear all her stories about Peter.
After that though, things got tricker.
You didn’t actually exist in this universe. Or if you did, you weren’t in any sort of government database. Meaning you needed legal documents. You needed an ID, social security number, and birth certificate. And that was just to start.
Fortunately for you, you had met some interesting characters during the blip back in your universe. These people were a constant in your new universe, so all you had to do really, was ask. And they provided.
And in a few simple months, you had your degree, which didn’t feel like forgery because technically you had earned it. Just not in this universe. And objectively, your universe’s education system was a lot more difficult than this one. You also had your, ID, and SSN. You got a job, and managed to rent an apartment. With Peter of course, you could never afford it yourself. He chose to live off campus with you, rather than enjoy the full college experience and live in the dorms.
His reason was he couldn’t sneak out to be Spider-Man in a dorm with other people. You told him he was simply clingy. Plain and simple.
He was.
“Baaaabe!”  Peter whined, quite loudly, from bed, his hand extended dramatically towards you. His upper body was hanging off the bed towards you. Very dramatic and clingy. But in a good way.
You ignored him as you headed towards the closet and began to search for an outfit for the day. “Get out of bed, spider boy,” you replied, a smirk on your lips. He hated when you called him that. So obviously you had to call him that to tease him.
“It’s Spider-Man, thank you very much. And I can hear the lack of a hyphen. There’s a hyphen for your information,” Peter haughtily corrected. “We really don’t have to get up. We can go back to bed. Or we can cuddle. We could do both.”
“No,” you responded. “Peter, you’ve been talking about me meeting Gwen for ages. Did you suddenly forget? We can’t just blow her off. Especially when we have to go get her from the airport,” you reminded.
Peter was silent. Too silent.
You turned around.
Peter was sitting up, blankets pooled at his waist. His hand was slapped over his mouth, eye’s wide. “Ooooh,” he whispered.
…yep. He forgot. Typical.
“Aren’t you supposed to be a genius, Mr. Parker?” You rhetorically asked.
Peter raised a hand. “In my defense,” he said, putting a finger up. “You’re just so attractive that I forget everything when I look at you, love.”
You waved your hands. “Okay! Enough of that, now. Get dressed,” you nervously laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. “We’re gonna be late, and I know how much it sucks to be forgotten at an airport.”
“That was one time!” Peter cried.
You laughed heartily. “Get dressed!” You exclaimed.
“I’m going, I’m going,” Peter waved off.
You reached for a shirt, before abruptly ripping your hand away, taking two big steps backwards. You stared at the flickering sparks of magic in your closet in disbelief. “Peter,” you called.
You heard the sheets rustling before he was at your side. He stared at the sparks in the closet, then back to you. “You think…?”
“Yeah,” you murmured. “I do.”
The sparks began to grow as a circular portal opened. And there Peter 1 stood, Ned and Doctor strange on either side of him. M.J stood with Ned to the side.
“I didn’t think that would work,” Ned breathed. “Y/N!” He exclaimed.
“Y/N…” Peter 1 said, eyes wide as he stepped forward. He was stopped when Strange held an arm out in front of him.
“If you go in, you might not come back out,” Strange warned. “Connecting two universes like this is fickle magic, one we don’t have much research on. So stay here,” he said firmly.
“You’ve grown up,” you said softly, taking in his appearance. “How’s adulthood treating you?”
“You wouldn’t believe the things that have happened,” Peter 1 chuckled. “It’s been insane! And, hi, Peter 3.” He waved.
Peter waved back, brows pinched together. “What are you…? What’s going on?” He asked, glancing at you and then back.
“Come on, let’s hurry this up,” Strange urged, “we don’t know how long it’ll take for us to give this a second shot. Y/N, let’s go.”
“What?” You asked, unable to process that this was happening. This was real, Peter 1 was here.
“Y/N, we came to bring you home!” Peter 1 explained. “You have to come quick, and then I can explain everything, okay?”
“Peter, I…I can’t. This is my home,” you said, reaching for Peter’s hand, something to ground and reassure you.
Peter laced your fingers together.
Peter 1’s face crumpled. “..what?” He nervously laughed. “What? No—no, your home is here. In our universe. You belong here. Please, come with us.”
“No,” you said, voice wavering. “I don’t belong there anymore, Peter. I’m sorry.”
“Y/N, what are you talking about? Please, just come through the portal and we can talk about this,” he pleaded.
“It’s been months, Peter. I finally…I’ve finally settled down. I have a life now. I have a—a job and we bought an apartment. I just…I can’t leave. And even if I could, I don’t want to. This is my home.” You knew even then that he wouldn’t understand. It was fruitless to try and explain to him why you wanted to stay. But maybe that would lessen the blow of you leaving. In all fairness though, he technically left you first.
But then Peter 1 said the words you’d been dreading.
“I can’t lose you too,” he whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek. Then another. And before you knew it, he was crying. “You don’t know what’s happened here. Everyone forgot me and I only just got them to remember and convince them to do this. You’re my best friend, Y/N. Please, I can’t lose you.”
“I’m sorry.” You willed your own tears away, squeezing Peters hand. You forced yourself to remember the horrors of your original universe compared to the peace of this one. You couldn’t go back. You wouldn’t survive. But Peter 1 just didn’t understand. He was a superhero. He had the powers and the ability to adapt to the crazy shit that went on in the world.
“Please understand,” you begged. “I can’t…I wasn’t made for that universe, Peter. Aliens? Supervillains? People turning to dust for five years? I can’t. I won’t go back to living in fear everyday of my life! Waking up and wondering if todays the day I finally die because some—some asshole developed powers and their first instinct is to wreak havoc!”
“Y/N—”
“No, Peter! Do you have any idea how nice it is to wake up to peace? To be able to turn on the news and not wonder how many people have died in the latest catastrophe?” You demanded. “I miss you. And I love you. But not enough to go back. You’re my best friend, Peter, but it’s time to let go.”
“Please don’t do this, Y/N. We can figure something out, can’t we? I don’t want to let you go. I don’t want to lose you,” Peter said, but there was less desperation in his voice. He was beginning to understand.
“You’re not losing me, Peter,” you said. “We’re just…going our separate ways, yeah?”
Peter 1 looked downright miserable as he nodded. “Going our separate ways,” he repeated. “Okay.”
You let go of Peter's hand and stepped forward, towards the stable portal. You brought yourself to the edge, about an inch away from the actual portal and stared at Peter 1. You smiled sympathetically and opened your arms. “Hug before you go?” You murmured.
Peter 1 wasted no time, undeterred by Strange’s warning about it being dangerous. He reached through the portal, pulling you forward as well and hugged you tightly, his face buried against your shoulder. “I’m gonna miss you.”
You held him close, savoring this moment with your best friend. Even though you hated your universe, you didn’t necessarily hate the people in it. And you’d miss him like hell. “Take care of yourself, Peter,” you whispered. “Don’t overwork yourself. Don’t patrol when you’re hurt or sick, okay? It’s okay to take time off. And don’t slack off on your homework, alright? You come first before Spider-Man. Understand?”
Peter 1 nodded. “I know, Y/N,” he mumbled against your shoulder. “I know, I won’t forget.”
“M.J, you make sure he takes care of himself, understand?” You directed your attention to her, voice tight. “He pretends he’s okay, or that he’s not injured. You have to check yourself to make sure he’s okay after patrols. And he gets sniffly when he’s getting sick. Don’t let him fool you, he can get sick despite the bite. He has to rest, don’t let him overwork himself.”
“I know,” M.J murmured. “I’ll take care of him, Y/N. I promise.”
“Good,” you said, giving Peter 1 a fierce squeeze, holding back your tears. You couldn’t let them fall. Not while he was watching.
“Peter, the portal is destabilizing,” Strange warned.
Peter 1 lifted his head, bloodshot eyes boring into your own. “Goodbye, Y/N,” he stepped away from you, back into his own universe.
“Goodbye, Peter,” you said, willing your voice to be strong as you stepped back as well, just as the portal closed. And only then did the tears fall.
226 notes · View notes