#tasm imagines | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spider-stark · 12 days

Text

INFINITELY YOU

part three // spitfire

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, minors DNI

WORD COUNT - 4.5k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite

name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker // tobey!peter = pete

On the walk back from Peter Pan’s, it seemed as though Parker had managed to entirely escape the sputtering awkwardness that had ensnared him the night before.

And, after countless city blocks of listening to him babble about absolutely everything and anything, you realized that there was one very striking similarity between him and Peter.

Both boys had a fervent interest in all things nerd.

“New Hope takes place nearly two decades after the rise of the Galactic Empire, meaning that Leia is only nineteen when she's kidnapped and forced aboard the Death Star! Which is like, absolutely insane, right? Seriously! Imagine being nineteen years old and stuck inside of something that has the potential to obliterate an entire planet!”

Shoving open the lobby door to your complex, Parker hardly even waits for you to hum your agreement before continuing his retelling of the Star Wars film.

“And at the exact same time, Luke is finally beginning his Jedi training! Which, honestly, nineteen is actually super old for that, but-”

Moving towards the stairs, Parker close on your heels, you cut him off with a question. “Too old? Nineteen is hardly even an adult,” you argue. “What age do most Jedi start training?”

“About four or five, so obviously Luke was way behind,”

Not even a full three stairs up, you come to a grinding halt, leaving Parker to bump into your back. “Four?!” You cry out, wide-eyed as you spin around to face him. “That’s insane!”

Parker only lifts his shoulders, clearly not understanding the reason for your horror.

Furthering your point, you add, “There’s nothing ethical about taking a bunch of little kids and training them to be weird, intergalactic warriors!”

“It’s the best way to train them!” He lifts his hand defensively, explaining, “The earlier they start training, the less likely it is that the kids will have formed an attachment to their families! That way they learn to act out of logic instead of emotion!”

For a heartbeat, you’re rendered entirely speechless by the absurdity of his claim, left to stand with your mouth agape as you blink at him.

“That sounds like emotional abuse,” you finally huff, shaking your head. “Actually, scratch that—it doesn’t sound like emotional abuse, it just is!”

“It’s not abuse-”

You hold a hand up, stopping him before he can say anything else. “Give me one good reason why a group of adults should withhold love and affection from children if they aren’t abusing them.”

“Uh, how about the fact that love is basically what made Anakin turn to the dark side!” Parker scoffs, clearly unwilling to recognize how insane the notion he was pushing actually is.

“Or maybe Anakin turned to the dark side because he was indoctrinated and traumatized by some stupid space cult!”

The expression on his face is downright laughable.

It was as if you had just reached out and slapped him across the face. His jaw went slack, his mouth hung open in blatant offense. As a sputtering noise falls from his lips, trying and failing to come up with a good rebuttal, you smirk.

“Exactly,” you boast, taking his inability to speak as a sign of victory.

Twirling on your heel, you continue up the stairs, nearly all the way to the top before you finally hear him come stomping up behind you.

“The Jedi Order is not a cult!” He finally shouts after you.

Already traipsing through the hallway, fiddling with your keys, you sing-song, “Whatever you say, bug-boy.”

Reluctant to admit defeat, Parker continues grumbling under his breath as you unlock the door, spouting something off about your lack of respect for George Lucas.

“Look,” you tell him, pushing the door open, “if liking Star Wars matters this much to you, then I’ll gladly watch them with you.” A wry smile plays on your lips as you turn to look at him, standing in the doorway, “Maybe watching them will be enough to change my opinion on turning kids into galactic slaves.”

Eyes narrowing in a playful glare, he’s only able to hold the expression for less than a few seconds before a laugh causes him to break character. “I just can’t believe that Peter hasn’t made you watch them already,” he admits. “I had you watch them so much that you could probably recite the scripts from memory alone!”

His amusement dies off as soon as he finishes the sentence. Despite having been the one to bring it up, the mention of his world seems to cast a sullen shadow over him, ruining his sweet, boyish smile.

Curiosity instantly claws at you, begging you to ask him why his world seemed to have such a negative effect on him. Or, rather, why his version of you seemed to have such an effect.

This had happened last night too, when you had asked him if the two of you were friends in his world—and it was because of this that you assume that you’re somehow the common denominator in his discomfort.

Still, you don’t let yourself ask him about it. For as much as you’re starting to like Parker, you don’t know him nearly well enough to try prying into his life.

Not yet, at least.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to force me into sitting through them in this world, too.” You tell him sweetly, sweeping an arm out to gesture inside of your apartment, inviting him. “It’s not like I’ve got any plans for the rest of the day.”

You couldn’t even remember the last time you did have plans. Life had been so quiet since that last night with Peter and Mj—the night when everything went so horribly wrong.

Parker sucks in a breath through his teeth, a hand coming to rest against the back of his neck. “I should probably get back out on the streets,” he reluctantly says, sounding more like he was convincing himself of that than you. “But, I don’t know, maybe we can take a rain check on it, yeah?”

Disappointment washes over you, sudden enough that you’re sure it shines through on your face. It takes a shocking amount of willpower to stop yourself from trying to persuade him to stay, wanting to remind him that two other Spider-Men were already running themselves ragged in pursuit of the villains—so why did he have to go, too?

You had grown used to his constant talking, having found solace in the chatter that kept you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Selfishly, you wanted him to stay so that you wouldn’t have to be alone; so that you wouldn’t have to risk thinking too long about Doctor Strange or the multiverse or constants or Peter.

The thought of admitting any of that out loud, however, felt incredibly humiliating.

“For sure,” you force a smile, trying to ignore the many thoughts swirling in your mind. Then, eyeing the slightly too-tight Ramones shirt that he’d stolen from you, you add, “But shouldn’t you at least come in and change?”

His nose wrinkles slightly as he shakes his head. “Nah—I think this city has more than enough spider-people swinging around it right now. I figure we might actually benefit from one of us patrolling on the ground-level, y’know? Maybe I can ask around for any giant lizards or blown light bulbs.”

It’s hard to tell if the last bit is meant to be a joke or not, but you laugh anyway if only to avoid knowing why you should be worried about lizards and light bulbs.

“Sounds like a plan,” you second his idea. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later then?”

A surprising sense of joy lights his eyes at the sound of your hesitance, unfitting of the simplicity of the moment, but charming nonetheless. He grins—a wide and endearing sort of grin—as he takes a step back, “I won’t be gone long,” he promises before reminding you, “lock the door behind you, alright? And if you need anything-”

He pauses, patting the pockets of his jeans only to remember that he didn’t bring a phone with him to this universe—and that, even if he did, there likely wasn’t a wireless plan good enough to support multiversal travel.

“If you need anything, call 911.”

“Got it,” you laugh, watching as he stumbles backwards towards the stairwell, cheeks red with faint embarrassment.

Turning to go inside, you can’t ignore the warmth that now blooms in your chest.

You could definitely get used to having him around.

A peculiar sensation prickles at your skin, curling along your spine like icy fingertips.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

The usually comfortable atmosphere of your apartment had shifted. An eerie tension fills the space, a near-suffocating feeling that has the very walls holding their breath, humming a tune of warning as you inch further into the living room.

Your stomach twists as the sharp tang of exhaust fumes fills your nostrils. By the couch, a faint breeze rustles the curtains of a window, wafting in the nauseating scent of the city street below—a window that hadn’t been open when you left earlier.

A mere foot or so away, you notice that the picture frame Parker had been fiddling with before is now lying on its face, having been knocked off the end table and abandoned. Atop the table, you notice that the lamp is sitting askew, its base just inches from tumbling over the edge and joining the frame.

Someone had come in through your window—and it didn’t appear as though stealth had been very important to them, given that they had clearly stumbled into the table upon their entrance.

Adrenaline floods your senses, your spine stiffening as you take a series of slow, quiet steps.

Moving towards the corner, you carefully reach out a hand to grab the metal bat propped against the wall. The bat had been an unlikely housewarming present from when you first moved in, given to you by Peter’s mentor and your own reluctant renegade, Tony Stark. For nearly two years now it had sat in this corner, unused and gathering dust—until now.

You wrap your fingers tightly around the base, wincing slightly as the rubber grip pulls at the still-healing flesh on your palm, making you curse yourself for not properly bandaging the wound last night.

But you’re used to pain—and so you’re easily able to bite back against it as you ease through the living room, checking for any sign of the intruder's presence.

As you walk, gripping the bat like your life depends on it, you can’t help but hear Tony Stark’s voice echo in your mind.

If you’re gonna live alone, then you should have some sort of protection—he had told you, gently placing the cool steel into your hands for the first time, a ribbon tied sloppily around it—not that you need it.

Satisfied with your search of the living room, you start easing towards the hall. You’re good at sneaking around, having had a lot of practice at it—every movement you make is calculated, every footfall so purposefully gentle that it’s nearly silent.

Quiet as you were, you could do nothing to ease the sound of your blood thrumming wildly in your own ears, your heart pounding against your chest.

The incessant beating worries you—because you know that there are people in the world with the unnatural ability to hear such things. Peter, even with his enhanced hearing, had to be close to someone in order to hear something as soft as their heartbeat; but you had heard rumors that there were others who could hear a pulse from miles away, others like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

The thought makes your blood run cold, though you try to push the worries from your mind. From what you know, the Devil doesn’t have a habit of breaking into apartments, nor was Queen's his usual jurisdiction.

No—what you were dealing with had to be no more than an average burglar!

An average burglar who, somehow, scaled up the side of a building to break into your apartment…

Alright—you think, approaching the end of the hall—perhaps it’s a not-so-average burglar, then! Still better than the Devil.

Peeling one hand from the bat’s handle, you curl your fingers around the doorknob to the guest room, Parker’s room. You ease the door open slowly, trying to keep the old hinges from crying out as you peer into the space.

The sweet scent of vanilla is the first thing that hits you, contrasted by the subtle bite of vetiver.

Parker—the room smells of him, even though he had only been here for one night.

On the bed, the quilt is rumpled and thrown about, pillows strewn about. The doors of the armoire are wide open, a few old shirts hanging over the edge of one of the shelves, no doubt from when he went digging through your clothes in search of something to wear.

The room was messy, but empty.

Your shoulders sag, half-a-breath loosing from your lungs. The relief is short-lived, however; as by the time you edge back into the hall to turn towards your own door, you’re overwhelmed with dread.

If whoever broke in was still here, then this was the only place they could be—save for the bathroom, though you seriously doubt any burglar would have much interest in scouring through your toiletries…

Easily, gracefully, you twist the knob, the metal yielding quietly to your careful touch.

The curtains are tightly drawn, eradicating any trace of sunlight and leaving the room cloaked in shadows. But, even in the darkness, you’re able to see the rough outline of a figure sprawled out across your mattress.

For a split second, you think of Parker’s advice to call 911, the weight of your phone suddenly heavy in your back pocket.

You think of how you should follow that advice.

You think about how fast you could run—if you would be able to reach the front door before they could catch up to you.

But then you stop thinking, disregarding all logic and reason as you take a step into the room, as if drawn in by some invisible force.

Remaining mindful of your surroundings, you slowly approach the edge of the bed. Squinting in the darkness, you try to study the body laid out atop your comforter. Watching the steady rise-and-fall of their chest, it suddenly hits you that, whoever they are, they’re asleep.

Slinking around the corner and coming to stand at your bedside, you’re finally close enough that you can see them in spite of the absence of light. Crimson and blue spandex clings tightly to their arms as they cling one of your pillows to their chest, and you feel your entire body sag with relief as you loosen your grip on the bat.

So this must be Peter 2.

The fabric of his mask is bunched up and resting along the bridge of his nose, which is somewhat smushed against the pillow he’s holding, no doubt leaving him to breathe in the scent of laundry detergent and your perfume.

Lower, you can make out the subtle contours of his jawline and the curve of soft, pink lips. Higher, you’re met with the impassive stare of then white lenses sewn into his mask.

The lenses shield his eyes from your view, and a curious feeling begins to tug at the furthest corners of your mind. Take it off—it seems to whisper, compelling you to move in closer, your shins pressing against the side of the mattress—take it off.

You grit your teeth and try to ignore the feeling, try to ignore the velvet-voice slithering through your mind; begging you to look at him, to touch him, to notice him, to-

Pain shoots along the side of your temple, likely in response to the sudden tightness in your jaw. It distracts you enough that you’re able to shake the strange feeling long enough to regain your focus—even if the remnants of it still linger.

You shouldn’t be interested in him—you should be pissed at him.

Not only had he broken into your house, which was already bad enough, but he had also climbed into your bed and made himself cozy! The absolute gall, the audacity he must have, has you allowing the tiniest sliver of rage to ignite inside of you.

Both hands still gripping the bat, you lower it from where it rests against your shoulder to swiftly jab its head into his stomach.

A cough sputters past his lips as the impact pushes the air from his lungs.

You’re actually shocked that you landed the blow—in truth, you had expected his spider-sense to kick in and detect the incoming hit, waking him with just enough time to dodge the shot. But, apparently, his instincts had made the mistake of assuming that you were of no threat to him.

“Morning sunshine,” you chime, your feigned cheerfulness set off by a sneer.

He’s scrambling into an upright position, knees sinking into the mattress as he presses a hand against the sore spot you’d created on his stomach. “What the fu-”

His voice is hoarse—from sleep or pain, you’re not sure—and he doesn’t finish the curse spewing from his mouth once his head shoots up towards you, as if finally registering the sound of your voice.

“I don’t know what things are like in your world,” you muse, swinging your bat back to rest against your shoulder, “but in this one, breaking and entering is considered a crime.”

He’s still catching his breath, and while those damn white lenses covering his eyes give so little emotion away, you assume that he’s going to apologize. It’s what Peter would do, and Parker, too.

But not him.

“Your friends said I could stay here,” he defends himself. Taking another deep breath and extinguishing the burning in his lungs, the lower-half of his face transforms into a defiant smirk. “It’s not breaking and entering if you were invited.”

“And did they tell you to sleep in my bed, too?” You shoot back, brows rising in annoyance. “Word of advice: next time you’re invited to stay in a total stranger’s house, maybe try not to repay their kindness by crawling through their window.”

He mocks you without missing a beat, “Word of advice: you live in a shitty neighborhood—if you don’t want people coming through your windows, you should try locking them.”

“Ah, right! Cause the average person is definitely willing to scale the side of a building for the prospect of an unlocked window!”

“You’re a pretty girl in a dangerous city,” he drones, lifting a shoulder as he meets your sarcasm with purposeful calm. “You’d be surprised what people would be willing to do for a chance at getting you alone.”

The insinuation sends a shiver down your spine, but you mask your unease, flashing a smile that’s more predatory than sweet. “Aw,” you coo, “so you think I’m pretty?”

He returns the expression, skillfully avoiding your derisive question. “I think you’re irresponsible—and a little cocky.”

“Better to be cocky than a felon,” you remark. “Just spare my neighbors the acrobatics show next time, would you? Maybe try knocking on the door like a normal person! Preferably when you’re not dressed like… that.”

It’s not that his suit wasn’t nice, because it was. But it lacks the advanced Stark-tech that makes Peter’s suit so uniquely sleek, meaning that it was likely safe to assume that no one in this world would mistake this boy for the real Spider-Man.

Unless they were to catch him scaling up the side of your building…

“I tried knocking.” he sounds exasperated, as if you are testing his patience. “You weren’t home.”

You snort a laugh, wondering if he truly believes that is all the reason he needs to break into someone's home.

“Then you should’ve waited until I got home,”

“I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. I was too tired to wait.”

“Then you should’ve slept in the alleyway with the rest of the strays,” you hiss at him, fingers tightening around the bat as your frustration builds.

The sheer ferocity in your voice gives him pause, stunning him into silence.

Then the corner of his mouth begins to twitch upwards, lazily grinning at you as if he actually enjoys the verbal onslaught.

You can tell that he’s watching you through those white lenses, and his tongue darts over his bottom lip, you feel your breath catch in your throat. “Fine,” amusement dances in his tone as he raises his gloved hands, “fair enough.”

For a moment, no sound comes from your parted lips, leaving you to stand there gaping at him until you remember how to speak. “Fair enough?” You echo, shaking your head slightly. “That’s all you’ve got? No apology?”

He moves, forcing you to take a step back as he shoves his legs over the side of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s not as tall as Parker, but he still stands an inch or so higher than you, making it hard to not feel intimidated as he stares down at you, your own face staring back from the reflection of his lenses.

“Better not push your luck, Spitfire,”

He’s baiting you—he has to be! Using a stupid nickname to get under your skin, to try and prod further at your short temper. And it’s working—god, you hate how much it’s working!—because you find yourself contemplating putting his superhuman durability to the test by whacking him over the head with your bat.

“By the way,” he says before you have a chance to act on your intrusive thoughts, pointing at your hands, “you’re bleeding.”

As if his words switch a flip in your head, you’re suddenly aware of the acute throbbing in your palm. You loosen your grip on the bat, letting it clatter recklessly to the floor as you hold your hand out to examine it.

Unsurprisingly, the rubber handle managed to tear open the barely-healed cut on your palm, courtesy of your too-tight grip on it. You hiss through your teeth, watching as blood oozed from the cut, dripping down towards your wrist.

Slipping past you, the boy only half-manages to stifle his laugh. “You should probably take care of that.”

He’s already slipping out into the hall by the time you regain enough awareness to follow after him, gritting your teeth against the pain.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“To the other room,” he calls over his shoulder. Once he’s standing in front of Parker’s door, he spins back around to face you, his snarky expression still in-tact. “Where I’m hoping you won’t follow me.”

Everything about him causes your blood to boil—his grating voice, his insolent attitude, his stupid soft lips.

“Would it kill you to be nice to me?” You exclaim, your voice strained with pain as you try to wrap your hand in the lower half of your shirt.

It takes no-time for blood to start seeping through the thin material, and you certainly don’t look intimidating like this—the lower half of your abdomen on display as you try to apply whatever pressure you can to the wound—but you don’t care.

“I don’t have to let you and Parker stay in my house—I’m doing it because I’m nice, alright? And, so far, you’ve been nothing but a dick!”

The thin fabric of his mask shifts, brows furrowing at the mention of Parker. Unlike Peter, however, he doesn’t bother commenting on the nickname. “Nice isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe you. Especially since you’re the one calling me names.”

The levity in his tone makes you want to scream—what was his deal?!

You press harder against your bleeding palm, your breathing turning shallow. You’re not sure if it’s frustration or pain or what, but you feel like your head is spinning. “Look, I don’t know you, alright? But this? Isn’t gonna work,” you bark at him, chin lifted defiantly as you stare into his mask, unrelenting. “If you plan on staying in my house, then you’ll get your shit together—got it?”

His head tilts, curiously watching as you continue your frantic speech.

“No crawling in through my windows or sleeping in my bed or smarting shit off! And take off that stupid mask!” You huff, shaking your head. “Or, I don’t know, pull it down the rest of the way! Just do something because you look stupid like that!”

The words are spewing from your mouth like a torrential downpour, fueled by the rage swirling in your stomach and the throbbing in your hand and—

He laughs, a genuine laugh that isn’t born of derision, and you feel your racing thoughts slow to a halt. “You should work on your insults,” reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs his mask off. “Because that was pathetic.”

It’s no longer just your thoughts that have slowed, but the entire world. Everything around you feels like it has come skidding to a stop—leaving you staring up at him like a dumbfounded idiot.

He’s beautiful—a commonality among Peter’s variants, it seems.

He’s smirking, an infuriatingly charming smirk that lets you know he has no intention of listening to your demands for him to silence his quick wit. But you’re not focusing on that—no, you’re focusing on the features that had been hidden from you this whole time; his dark hair, tousled from removing his mask, falls in a chaotic halo around his face, contrasting the vibrance of his eyes.

His eyes.

They leave you breathless, and you hate it. Colored with the deepest cerulean you’ve ever seen, his eyes feel like staring into the depths of a crystalline ocean. You can almost feel yourself getting swept up in their tides, feel them enveloping you in a feeling of familiarity, as if this wasn’t the first time you had been pulled into their ebbing waters.

“Have we–” your mouth has gone dry, your voice cracking. “Have we met before?”

It’s a ridiculous question, and you recognize that even as it’s spilling from your lips. You couldn’t have met him before—not when the two of you weren’t even from the same universe!

He seems to be thinking the same thing, and you’re already preparing to take the full force of whatever smartass comment he’s about to fling at you. “I’ve met you,” he says simply, taking you by surprise. Then he inclines his head towards your still-bleeding hand, “You should patch yourself up before you stain the carpet.”

You look down at your hand, at the hem of your shirt, soaked in blood.

“But just so I know,” you look back up, his body half-turned towards the door, his fingers resting against the knob, “if Peter and Parker are already taken, then who does that make me?”

You have to force yourself to take a breath. “What did I call you in your world?” He’s silent for a moment, staring at the floor and chewing on his lip. Then, pushing the door to Parker’s room—their room—open, he smiles.

“Pete.”

a/n - ayyy, pete's finally here! and, ofc, lots of other little important details sprinkled around as well.

also, i really wanna say thank you to everyone who has been reading and enjoying this story so far! it truly means the world to me to read all of the nice comments and to know that you guys are interested in this story! so, again, thank you 💖 as always, please comment/like/reblog and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!

part four, titled "blooms of subterfuge", to be released april 29th

350 notes · View notes

heliads · 11 months

Note

Andrew Peter x Gn reader, simple headcanons if you haven’t done this already 🩷

bless bullet points

masterlist

Even without the fact that he’s Spider-Man, dating Peter Parker is an absolute dream come true

First of all, he is quite possibly The Sweetest Boy in Existence

I’m talking flowers on every date, walking you to your door after each outing, everything you could want and more

He’s also a little lovesick over you (and who wouldn’t be??) so you know he’s practicing his photography by making you his main muse

“It’s not my fault I keep taking photos, you should stop distracting me with your beauty”

You get the drift. He’s obsessed, as he should be

But then… factor in the fact that he’s a literal superhero…

Whenever he saves the city, you are his first priority. End of discussion.

It doesn’t matter how many people are in danger, he’s finding you first and not resting until he knows you’re going to be alright

You are what matters most, not the city, you

Peter’s kind of a vigilante anyway, he’s not lawfully obligated to treat everyone fairly

If he lost you, he would never forgive himself, so Peter ensures that there will never be a situation in which that happens

Outside of danger, though, your boyfriend being Spider-Man is still totally the coolest thing ever

He likes bringing you up to random rooftops so you can sit and look at the skyline for hours

You always forget how cold it is up there, which is of course just an excuse for Peter to ply you with his jackets

When he’s out the next day and sees you wearing his clothes… he is losing his mind I can promise you that

Basically, your relationship with Peter Parker is top tier, and there’s absolutely nothing you would change about it <33

requested by @fadedver

marvel tag list: @mayfieldss, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @callsign-scully, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero, @/fadedver

245 notes · View notes

imaginesfordifferentfandoms · 10 months

Text

Last Kiss

Click here for my masterlist.

Click here to add yourself to my taglist.

Prompt - ‘But I never planned on you changing your mind.’

Notes - Happy Speak Now month! Request a fic for any of the remaining Speak Now tracks, click my masterlist to see which songs are left!!💜

You could safely say that falling in love with Peter Parker was the easiest thing you had ever done. Everything about him was easy to fall for. He had been your best friend for as long as you could remember, for so long it had been the two of you against the world. He had been there for all the good moments in your life and you had been there for his.

You’d known for years you were in love with him, long before either of you confessed it to each other. You had thought of telling him for a while but every time you’d thought you’d built the courage to do it you always backed out, not wanting to ruin your friendship.

It wasn’t until nearly two in the morning on some random night in fall when you heard a tapping on your window that things changed. You awoke with a groan, not having been asleep for long but exhausted from the day before.

At first you weren't sure what had woken you up, ready to just brush it off and let your eyes fall shut again. Just as you shifted in your bed, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself you heard more tapping and sat up with a frown.

It took a couple of moments for you to realise it was coming from your window and you felt a smile pull at your lips, wrapping the blanket around yourself because the room was cold. You climbed out of your bed and pulled your curtains back to see a masked Spider-Man grinning at you.

You were quick to push the window open, smile dropping as you took in the busted lip, bloody cheek and blackening eye. Peter didn’t seem all that fazed about it as he climbed in through the window, quickly catching a book he had knocked on his way in before it could make a noise and closed the window for you.

“Fun night?” You asked as you made your way to your desk, pulling out the med kit you kept handy ever since you’d found out that the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man happened to be your best friend.

“Yeah, it was great!” Peter grinned, causing you to wince as more blood leaked from his lips, Peter ignoring it as he relayed the events of his night, making himself comfortable on your bed.

As he spoke you gently got to work on cleaning the blood coming from the different spots on his face, knowing that his healing factor would take care of the rest and in just a few hours you wouldn’t even be able to tell that he had been hurt.

“Better?” You asked as you threw the bloody wipes onto your nightstand, along with the med kit, too tired to bother putting them away.

“Thank you.” Peter nodded, smiling softly at you before he pulled himself off the bed.

As he stripped out of the suit and opened your wardrobe for a pair of clothes you’d stolen from him months ago you fixed the blanket and settled back against the pillows, stealing a glance or two before he was dressed and climbing into bed with you.

The two of you had been sharing a bed since you were kids, back then it was fine, easy, he was just your best friend then but now, now it was different. It was harder to ignore your feelings when you were pulled against a warm chest, Peter’s arms wrapping around you, holding you close to him.

You were so stupidly in love with him that it hurt some days.

“Thank you for always patching me up.” He murmured into your hair and you smiled into his chest, smoothing your hand along his shirt.

“Somebody’s gotta watch out for Spider-Man whilst he’s saving the world.” You laughed, feeling the rumble of Peter’s chest as he chuckled.

The two of you were quiet for a while after that, your eyes had drifted back shut and you let yourself relax even more against Peter, selfishly savouring the way he felt wrapped around you, memorising the way his thumb automatically stroked soothingly up and down your hip, cherished the way you’d never felt quite as safe as you did in Peter’s arms.

“I love you.” Peter whispered into the dark, the words catching him by surprise.

He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He hoped you had fallen asleep, hoped you hadn’t heard his whispered confession and yet another part of him wished you were awake to hear it. He wanted you to know that you were the one for him, that he’d been in love with you for longer than he could remember.

You were silent for a moment, not daring to move as though it would break the spell and Peter would take the words back, play them off as a joke. It took you a few more seconds before you were able to force yourself to move.

You shifted out of Peter’s grip only far enough away so that you could look over at him with disbelief on your face. It wasn’t that you didn’t believe Peter couldn’t love you, it was just that you had never let yourself think he could love you the way you had loved him for so long.

“Y/N/N,” Peter started, torn between backtracking or just admitting it all over again, thankfully he was saved from having to decide when you smiled at him and reached out to cup his cheek, your thumb gently brushing over his already healing cut.

“I love you too.” You whispered back to him, watching as he froze for a second as if he wasn’t registering the words before a smile broke out and his whole face seemed to light up the dark room.

“Really?” He couldn’t help but ask and you laughed softly as you nodded, Peter leaned in and pressed your lips together, both of you smiling too much for it to be more of a brushing of your lips before Peter pulled you even closer and kissed you properly, the kiss soft and slow as he cupped your own cheek.

By the time the two of you were forced to pull away for air, you were dizzy and breathing heavily, Peter resting his forehead against yours and feeling just as intoxicatingly dizzy as you did.

Your first kiss with Peter turned into two then three until you couldn’t recall how many kisses were shared on that first night alone, neither of you able to stop until the pull of exhaustion forced you away from each other and you were able to fall asleep in his arms, not having to feel guilty for how much you enjoyed it anymore.

It went on for months, you and Peter shocking nobody when you announced that you were dating. Aunt May pulled you into a hug and told you she’d been waiting for you two to figure it out since you were six years old causing you both to laugh and share smiles.

Everything was perfect. The two of you were made for each other. You weren’t surprised that nothing much seemed to change between the two of you, Peter and you were still attached at the hip both during and after school, Peter still knocked on your window more nights than not to crawl into your bed after patrolling, the only difference now was that the two of you could be open with how you felt and that you could pull him down for a kiss whenever you wanted.

“You look gorgeous, love.” Peter said as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his head on your shoulder as you looked at each other through the mirror.

Peter had never been shy with the compliments, even before you started dating he always seemed to want you to know how beautiful you were and yet somehow they never failed to make you blush.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.” You smirked, turning around in his hold to drape your arms around his shoulders, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips.

The two of you were finishing getting ready to head to Gwen’s, her parents were away for some business trips and since school had just ended it seemed like the perfect time for somebody to throw a party.

As you headed in you felt Peter’s hand resting against the small of your back. That was another thing about Peter, he seemed incapable of keeping his hands to himself around you, there was always some part of him attached to you.

You weren’t complaining of course, you loved that Peter wasn’t afraid to show you off, you loved the feeling of him close by. Peter had always felt like home, felt safe, you would never push him away.

Peter was like the life of the party whenever he walked into a room, he didn’t care who anyone was, he’d say hi to you if you were popular or not, he’d pour you a drink and hand you some snacks and draw you into a conversation if you looked left out.

It was truly a wonder how people hadn’t figured out he was Spider-Man, both of them cared so much for other people, always willing to take a hit before he’d let someone else take it, always looking out for others.

Peter headed off to get you both a drink and you found Gwen in the crowd, letting her pull you in for a hug before she immediately started talking to you. You laughed along with her, joining in with the group she was with and were only pulled away when Peter found you with two drinks in hand.

You smiled at him, continuing with what you were saying before you were cut off by Peter’s lips pressing against yours and you couldn’t help but laugh into it as the others around you cooed and giggled.

“I was talking.” You said once he pulled away, Peter grinning down at you as he passed you a drink.

“Sorry, you just look so beautiful tonight.” He told you, causing you to roll your eyes playfully even as you blushed.

A few drinks later and Peter stumbled over to you, a happy grin on his face, his eyes bright as he wrapped himself around you, nuzzling into your neck and placing soft kisses against your skin.

“Dance with me?” He whispered into your ear, placing a kiss against it.

You weren’t usually one for dancing but Peter kept pressing kisses along your shoulder and you couldn’t help but give in to him, letting him lead you to the living room which seemed to have been turned into a dance floor for the time being.

Dancing with Peter was just as intoxicating as all of thing involving Peter seemed to be, the way his arms wrapped around you, gripping your hips as he pulled your back to his chest, moving against you, his lips still mouthing at your neck whilst he nudged you to tilt your head for him as you moved to the beat of whatever song was playing.

Peter danced with you for a song or two before he was pulling away from your neck, trailing a series of kisses up to your ear.

“Let me take you home?” He whispered, his voice thick and heavy with want and you wanted him just as badly, nodding against him and letting him lead you out of Gwen’s place and back to yours.

You had noticed straight away when something shifted, Peter knocked on your window less and less as the weeks went on, the two of you were so close that you felt the loss immediately. When the two of you were together he acted differently, pulling away more and more and if you thought that was bad in public it was even worse.

Suddenly Peter, who was usually so open with his affection for you, treated you like you were a stranger. It was strange to go from having him always with you to him pulling away. You had tried to accept that maybe he just needed some distance, you did spend a lot of time together, maybe he just needed to be alone for a bit.

But after weeks passed where you would go days without receiving a reply from him, without feeling his arms around you or his lips against yours you didn’t know what to do. Something was obviously wrong but instead of talking to you about it he was pushing you further and further away.

Peter, meanwhile, was freaking out.

He had been swinging through the city, ready to call it a night as things seemed to be quiet and head over to your house when he heard somebody frantically calling out for him. His spider senses immediately honed in on the voice and he swung faster towards it, dropping into a crouch in front of a scared girl.

“What’s the matter?” He asked, scanning the scene for any danger but other than the girl's pale face and shaking hands there wasn’t anything out of place.

“Spider-Man,” she breathed out, looking at him in fear. “He told me to give you this.”

The girl held out a large thick envelope that caused Peter to frown. He hesitated for a moment before he took it off her but didn’t open it just yet.

“Who gave this to you?” He asked, watching as she shook her head.

“I don’t know, he just grabbed me and dragged me down here. He told me I had to make sure you got that or he’d hurt me.” The girl began to cry and Peter shushed her gently, pulling her up and wrapping his arm around her.

“I’m really sorry, will you let me walk you home?” He asked her softly and spent the next twenty minutes walking through New York, making sure the girl got home safely before he swung a few blocks away.

He landed on a rooftop and sat down, opening the envelope and feeling his heart stop when a picture fell out. It was a picture of you with Spider-Man and when he tipped the envelope out he saw dozens more of the two of you together, thankfully each time he was fully suited and masked.

‘The itsy, bitsy Spider-Man sure would be crushed if something happened to his little girlfriend.’

Peter’s blood ran cold as he tried to run through all the people he had dealt with recently but couldn’t think of anybody who would be furious enough to stalk him and threaten you. He had always been nervous about mixing you and Spider-Man but you both thought you were being careful.

Clearly he was wrong and now you were in danger because of him.

Putting space between you made Peter feel like the biggest jerk in the world but he knew if he told you it would cause you to panic. He didn’t want you looking over your shoulder every second of the day, startling at every sound you heard and being too scared to leave your apartment.

He was torn. Being away from you hurt but he had to protect you. He never thought he’d have to choose between you and Spider-Man, you had accepted his masked side immediately but now he had to protect you even if you never knew.

“Will you stop!” You exclaimed as you tried to catch up to Peter, the man had gotten good at avoiding you. “Seriously, tell me what’s going on!”

“There’s nothing going on.” Peter insisted as he stopped walking to let you catch up to him.

“Don’t lie to me, don’t do that. I haven’t seen you in weeks and you’re telling me we’re fine?” You cried, hating the way tears stung at your eyes but suddenly you were exhausted, being away from Peter for so long was wrong.

“Baby,” he sighed, stepping closer to you to cup your cheek. “I’m sorry, ok, I just…you’re right there is something wrong but not with us.”

“Tell me what’s wrong.” You pleaded and Peter’s own eyes filled with tears as he shook his head, leaning down to press your foreheads together and just savouring the feeling of having you so close.

“I love you so much.” He murmured, leaning down to press his lips against yours, kissing you so softly, so carefully, like you’d break if he was too rough.

“Peter, please just talk to me.” You begged when he pulled back but he shook his head again.

“I can’t baby, I can’t.” He told you tearfully, leaning in to kiss you one last time before pulling away. “Just do me a favour please.”

“Anything.” You told him sincerely, worried for him and wanting nothing more than to help him.

“Tell me you love me.” He asked, looking at you with wide, watery eyes that made your heart break.

“Of course I love you, you know that right?” You asked and he nodded at you, his lips thinning into a line as he fought back tears.

“Yeah, yeah I know that Y/N/N.” He forced his lips into a smile, taking you in before he knew he had to leave. “I gotta go baby.”

You went to open your mouth but Peter just shook his head, murmuring an apology before he raced away from you, leaving you standing in the street, watching as he blended into the crowd of strangers.

If you had known that would have been your last kiss with Peter you would have held him close a bit longer, you would have made it last until you were both gasping for breath, you wouldn’t have let him walk away without an explanation like the many years of your friendship, of your love meant nothing to him.

But you didn’t know that would be your last kiss with him, not until you got a call from Peter whilst you were in the shower. You hadn’t heard the phone ring but you smiled once you sat on your bed, changed into a pair of clothes you had stolen from Peter, to see a voicemail from him, it had been over a week since the last time you’d seen or heard from him.

“Um, hey…hey baby.” Peter said shakily and your smile immediately turned into a frown. “God, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I should be doing this in person but I can’t, I can’t because it’d kill me to see you cry. I…Y/N, I have to break up with you. I’m so sorry, baby but I gotta. It’s for the best.”

For the best? How was him breaking up with you for the best?

“You did nothing wrong, Y/N, you need to know that. This is all me and God, Y/N, one day I promise you, one day I’m gonna make up for all of this but right now…just know that I love you so much, baby, I really do love you.”

Tears were streaming down your face by the time the message ended and you were left in silence, the only sound was your occasional sobs as you struggled for air.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, you and Peter were meant to be it, you were meant to be with only each other, that’s what you promised each other. It was always supposed to be you and Peter against the world.

Now you were alone, with no explanation as to why only a promise that he would fix it one day. You weren’t sure how he was supposed to fix this when he couldn’t even stomach being in the same room as you.

You and Peter had planned a future together, it was impossible to see it without him. You didn’t want to see it without him. You weren’t supposed to have a last kiss with him, he wasn’t supposed to be something you missed.

You were so set on a future with Peter, thought he was so sure about one with you that the idea of him changing his mind had never even occurred to you. You wish it had though because then maybe you would have expected this a little bit but nothing could have prepared you for this.

You didn’t want this to be the end of your story with Peter, this was never how you’d imagined it to end and yet there was nothing you could do to change it, the only thing you could do was hope that one day Peter kept his promise and made things right again.

Andrew Garfield’s Peter Parker Taglist (Click the link in my bio to add yourself!) -

@haroldpotterson, @rottenstyx, @powerpuffluuvv, @filmsbyblair, @cinderellacauseshebroke, @black-rose-29, @chaoticevilbakugo, @ppgrayson, @onyourgoddamnleft, @divanca2006, @siriuslyfearless, @levisbloodcut, @alwaysclassyeagle, @asherhunterx, @ordinarylokix, @carmellasworld, @ellabellabus07, @lokismidnight, @maeve-7, @apolysius, @jasontoddthezombie, @qfton, @honkroselyn, @inflatabledinosaurs19, @father-violet, @rosesinmars, @mystic-writings, @izzyyy-1, @lizamango, @beaconings, @randomwriter1021, @taylordidsomthingbad, @kaitieskidmore1, @aylauwuuniverse, @hydeonysus, @freeshavocadoooo, @writeroutoftime, @mrslizzyolsen, @kosmic-klouds, @idli-dosa, @allthingsmarvellove, @inas-thing, @xxchaotic, @standarizedpumpkins, @ukai-hoe, @lucyysthings , @cwritesforfun, @siriusstwelveyears, @myguiltypleasures21, @luluwinchester-blog, @polyglot-noodle, @bubsonnobx, @heyitsaloy, @eddiefreakingmunson, @eddiefrickenmunson, @f-sant, @fairydxll, @valluvsu, @sjprongs, @uwiuwi, @ellablossom-blog, @alexparkxr, @instabull, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @momoewn, @secretsthathauntus, @clairemsworld, @psychicbouquetgladiator, @evvy96, @pedritoswife, @iluvweasleys, @navs-bhat, @nashja, @alexxavicry, @annabellefrances1, @myeyesandheartadjust, @countryday, @pretty-npeach, @harry-and-ouis28, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @definitelykyles, @handsupforamiracle, @nao1800, @imposter-27, @hoplessromantic17, @father-violet, @lunalovegood156, @lazyxsquirrel, @bitchineedfuckingtherapy, @taygrls, @keorioq, @elcve, @soldierheart @ct-0113, @orchiidflwer @libraryofsweetpotatoes, @canty0us33, @missabsey, @dunno--what-to-put-here

Thank you so much for reading!💜

196 notes · View notes

bxcketbarnes · 2 years

Text

Join Me...

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 1500+

I have looked at this gif maybe over a hundred times. And every time I’m looking somewhere different. This beautiful man. What it would be like to shower with him. Which is what I got here ;) I hope you guys enjoy this! And as always, let me know what you think!! xox

The door to your apartment opens up and you glance over your shoulder to see Peter walking inside. "Hey, handsome," you greet him from your spot on the couch.

He tosses his keys onto the table while toeing his shoes off. "Hey, honey," Peter mumbles while walking towards you.

"Are you okay?" You ask him with a pout, leaning your head against the back of the couch.

Peter nods his head and lays his hands on your shoulders. He softly massages you while leaning forward to kiss your forehead. "Just a long day," he sighs against your skin.

One of your hands rests on top of his, your thumb stroking the back of his hand. "Can I do anything?" You question with a soft smile.

He shrugs his shoulders and walks around the couch, sitting down beside you. Peter lays his head onto your lap and a frown comes to your lips. You comb your fingers through his hair, keeping your eyes on him as he watches the show playing on TV.

"Jus' wanna be with you," he mumbles while fiddling with the fabric of your leggings.

Your heart flutters in your chest as Peter places light kisses on your thighs. "I've got nothing planned tonight so I'm all yours," you tell him, pushing his hair back a bit.

He shifts his body so he's laying on his back, his head turning to look up at you. "I love you so much," Peter whispers loud enough for you to hear.

A smile graces your lips and your thumbs stroke his cheeks. "I love you too, Peter. With all of my heart," you proclaim before leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

He turns his body towards you and nuzzles his face into your abdomen. You giggle softly as he wraps his long arms around your waist. "Would you marry me?" He mumbles against your stomach.

Your breath hitches in your throat and you try to lean back to see his face. "What?" You ask him, wondering if you heard him correctly.

Peter removes his face from your stomach and smiles nervously at you. "I-I asked if you would ever marry me?" He repeats himself, causing your heart to beat a million miles per minute.

You gulp and nod your head. "Y-Yeah, I would," you whisper out. "You don't plan to ask me right now, do you?"

He shakes his head and you let out a sigh of relief. Peter sits up and rests his head on your shoulder. "We just moved in together. Let's take one big step at a time," he jokes with you.

"I agree," you giggle. "But, when the time comes, I'd be glad to marry you."

Peter hooks his fingers under your chin, lifting your face slightly before kissing you softly. You deepen the kiss instantly, bringing your hands to his face. His hands find their way to your hips and he pulls you onto his lap.

Your forehead rests against his as his tongue darts past your lips. A moan slips from your lips and the kiss gets heated. You breathe heavily when you pull away from him and you keep your eyes shut.

"You are the best thing that's happened in my life," Peter confesses to you, his hands slipping under the shirt you're wearing.

Tears pool along your waterline and you flutter your eyes open. "You're going to make me cry," you mumble softly, bringing a hand to your face.

Peter hugs you to his chest and mumbles a string of apologies. "I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to make you cry," he mentions as you tug on the ends of his hair. "They're happy tears, yeah?"

You release a chuckle and nod your head, sniffling a bit. "Yes, of course. You make me so happy," you mutter before planting a quick kiss on his lips.

"I gotta take a shower," Peter says with a light sigh. He taps your hips a couple of times, motioning for you to slide off of him. You slide back into your seat as Peter pushes himself off the couch. "You can join me if you want."

Your cheeks blush and you shake your head, giving him a shy smile. "I'm good, baby. You go ahead," you tell him while rubbing the back of your neck.

He smiles softly at you and nods his head. Peter disappears into your shared room and you tilt your head back. Why do you have to be like that? You ask yourself before grabbing your phone off of the coffee table.

You dial your friend's number after hearing the shower turn on. You sandwich the device between your shoulder and ear, listening to the rings.

"Hey, darling," your best friend, Hayley, greets you and you immediately groan. "What happened?"

"Peter asked me if I wanted to shower with him," you say into the phone, keeping your eyes on the open bedroom door. "Well, he didn't ask but he said that I could join him if I wanted."

A noise comes through the receiver and you furrow your brows, pulling the phone back a bit. "And you said no?!"

"I-I've never showered with him before! He's never actually seen me naked before," you panic slightly.

"How is that possible? You two have sex, and you both live together now," Hayley mentions and you can hear the confusion in her voice.

"Yeah, but we have sex with the lights off and I wake up before him," you explain to her. "I don't want him to think I don't want to be intimate, I'm just… nervous about it."

Hayley lets out a sigh as you fumble with the hem of your shirt. "Babe, that man is so infatuated with you. I think you should try it! Face your fears! It's only Peter," she does her best to reassure you.

You nod your head and stand up from the couch. "I got this. I'm gonna go in there and surprise him," you hype yourself up.

"Yes, girl! Let me know the details," Hayley giggles and you roll your eyes playfully.

"I will. I'll see you tomorrow," you mention before the two of you bid each other goodbye.

You walk into your bedroom and toss your phone onto your mattress. You release a deep breath before undressing, tossing the dirty clothes into the hamper. You walk towards the bathroom, the sound of the shower getting louder.

It's just Peter. You remind yourself while trailing your fingertips along your hips. You walk into the bathroom before slowly opening the door to the shower.

Your heart pounds against your chest when your eyes meet his. Peter smiles down at you before his gaze trails down your body. "Hi, honey," he greets you while stepping to the side, allowing you to step in.

"H-Hey," you stutter nervously and step into the shower. The warm water sprays your back as Peter's hands rest on your hips.

"You changed your mind, I see," he chuckles and kisses your forehead. You hum and nod your head, avoiding Peter's gaze. He hooks a finger under your jaw before lifting your head. "Honey, you don't need to be nervous. If you aren't comfortable staying here with me, you can leave. Don't let me pressure you into doing something you're not ready for."

You swallow the lump in your throat as tears come to your eyes. Peter's fingers gently stroke your cheekbone and you lean into his touch. "I love you so much, Pete," you sigh while hugging him.

He kisses the top of your head, gliding his hands up and down your back. "I love you, honey," he mumbles into your wet hair.

Your heart flutters in your chest and you tilt your head up, looking into his honey-brown eyes. Peter smiles fondly at you, moving one of his hands back to your face. You lean on your toes carefully and press your lips against his.

He moans into the kiss and cups one of your cheeks. Peter's tongue glides across your lower lip, begging for entrance. A gasp escapes your lips when his free hand squeezes your ass cheek, surprising you.

His tongue slips into your mouth, deepening the kiss while carefully turning your body. The coolness of the shower wall connects with your back, causing your breath to hitch.

Peter's hands move to your chest and he abruptly pulls back. Both of you breathe heavily as he wets his lips. "Can I touch you here?" He asks in a whisper, feeling his thumbs toying with your nipples.

"P-Please," you stutter as your eyes flutter shut. Peter kisses your bare shoulder before he gently pinches your nipples. You let out a breathy moan, leaning your head against the wall. "Fuck, Peter."

He grins against your skin and bites down gently, earning another moan from you. "So responsive," he smirks while trailing his lips towards the middle of your chest. "I know I started this, but having sex in the shower is extremely dangerous."

You couldn't help but laugh at his statement and you open your eyes to look at him. "Should've thought that before playing with my nipples," you joke with him, your cheeks blushing as his strokes on your breasts continue.

"Can't help it, honey. You're just… I can never get enough of you," he nuzzles his face into your neck, his hands moving to rest on your lower back.

Your fingers comb through his wet hair and place a kiss on his shoulder. "Well, we should probably wash up and then we can continue this in the bedroom."

Taglist: @jeanettexkillian @undf-stuff @softyutae @theonlymaddie @queenofshinigamis @stewielover95 @foreverrogers @writing-for-marvel @softtdaisy @xoxoloverb @onlyfreds @corneliastreetinstyle @avenjames-anderson @marvelouswinchester @0-0-sunflower-0-0 @sincericida @leleea @jessalyn-jpeg @paw-sneeze @apeainapot @thewxntersoldier @reddesert-healourblues

790 notes · View notes

mrshipsmcgee · 1 year

Note

Give me a headcanon (please) for A Lord and A Lady: Peter and Bluebell finding out she's pregnant for the first time.

OH SNAP ANON!

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy

He knew it before his Bluebell did.

Peter had noticed all of the signs; how tender her breasts were when he’d swirl his tongue along her nipples, how she absolutely could not stand the smell of frying meats or how she would wake up sick, thinking she had consumed far too much champagne the night before.

Lord Peter kept a watchful eye on his bride, making sure to be with her during practically every moment as he was fearful of what could potentially come after how he had lost Gwendolyn.

One day while Peter had gone to fetch her a bouquet of fresh flowers from their greenhouse gardens the Duchess fainted, a doctor arriving almost immediately to check her vital signs.

Peter ran home as soon as he had been alerted, busting through the doors of he and Bluebell’s bed chambers, out of breath as he rushes to her side - his love now bedridden as the doctor checks her heartbeat.

The doctor pauses, looking towards Peter before adjusting his instrument towards the Duchess’ abdomen, his eyes widening before he sits up.

“You are with child,” he breathes, looking at the couple. “The Duchess is expecting.”

He knew it.

Peter knew it.

Peter’s palm caressed his Bluebell’s belly, sweetly gazing down where she laid, “We’re going to have a baby.”

“I’m going to have your baby,” she smiles as a tear rolls down her cheek.

Peter’s smile drops as his thoughts race, still tormented by the loss of his Gwendolyn. He turns to the doctor, “She’s healthy?- They are healthy?”

The doctor nods, “All the Duchess needed was simply some sugar. Her and the babe are healthy.”

Peter swallows as he protectively covers his bride’s stomach before he lets out an exhale, “Thank you, doctor.”

The Duchess looks up towards Peter, smiling ear to ear as she says, “Your baby is in my belly, Pete. That is lunacy, is it not? Should we be allowed to be parents? We simply cannot be old enough to be with child.”

Peter smiles, his eyes full of admiration as he whispers - “I suppose our days of playing house will be put to good use soon.” He rubs her belly, planting a kiss on her cheek before whispering “Our baby is in here.”

#tasm #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker fluff #peter parker imagines #peter parker fluff #tasm imagines #tasm imagine #andrew garfield au #bridgerton au #period piece fic #tasm headcanon #peter parker headcanon #tasm!peter headcannons #headcannons with cait: drunk edition #headcanons with cait #a lord and a lady

78 notes · View notes

the-kr8tor · 2 months

Text

The-kr8tor's Masterlist- TASM Peter Parker

*I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms and copy/ pasted on any AI software*

Support banner by @cafekitsune

Peter has a crush on his best friend

#the kr8tor's creations #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #masterlist #tasm peter parker masterlist #tasm imagines #tasm x reader #tasm fanfic

13 notes · View notes

saiilorstars · 2 years

Photo

In the Scheme of the Multiverse - Pt. 2

· Part 1 ·

Characters: Maribel (OFC), Tom, Andrew & Tobey!Spidermans, MJ, Ned, Strange

Summary: Three Peter Parkers are united to help cure their enemies to save one world. Maribel Jenavid, a Multiverse expert, aids them in their quest despite growing weaker as the multiverse cracks. In the process, she learns about her other doppelgangers, more specifically Peter 3’s best friend “Mar” who inexplicably cut ties with him. Maribel then reveals the secret her doppelganger kept that could change Peter’s entire perspective.

taglist: @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet @foxesandmagic

Maribel’s Masterlist

If you’d like to be a part of this OC’s work/edits, let me know!

Part 2

Maribel couldn't take it. She really couldn't. Sitting around with MJ and Ned in the lab waiting for the other Peters to handle the misfits just wasn't on Maribel's to-do list. When they least expected it, Maribel teleported out of the lab…but she didn't teleport into the scaffolding either. She had other plans to finally put a stop to the nonsense.

"Where the hell did she go!?" MJ helplessly looked around the lab and even peered out the portal into the scaffolding. Maribel wasn't in sight.

They soon grew distracted when Ned discovered that he couldn't close the portal he opened up. They had the Machina de Kadavus in their possession so the portal needed to be closed immediately. It wasn't happening…

And soon their mistake was noticed by one misfit and were forced into a run out of the portal onto the scaffolding. Ned managed to open up a few more portals to evade getting struck but none of them were shut again.

With one last effort, Ned tried opening up one more portal only for someone else to create one right behind them. As he and MJ whirled around, they saw Dr. Strange emerging from the newly created portal.

"Uh-oh," Ned's eyes widened to the brim. MJ gripped the box in her hands tighter.

"Where is he!?" Strange all but yelled in the teenagers' faces.

"Don't yell please…" Maribel came out of the portal after him, looking worse for wear.

MJ lowered the box in her hands, her eyes widening like Ned's but not out of shock. "Oh my God, Maribel, what happened to you?"

Maribel was white as a ghost. MJ swore she could hear the woman's raggedy breathing from her spot.

"What do you think happened to her!?" Strange snapped. He was beyond furious as it was and now they wanted to play dumb about things? "The Multiverse is cracking!" He took the Sling Ring from Ned, along with the box. "Dying! Which means so is she!"

"Am…not…" Maribel's intentions to sound strong were sadly put on hold when her two words made her gasp for air.

Strange took no pity for the situation. He had one thing to do and he was going to do it. "See!?"

"Don't listen to him," Maribel waved the man off, "I went to find him—"

"And in opening so many other portals—"

"Shut up, Strange," Maribel sighed. She leaned against the rail and wrapped an arm around her stomach. "I brought you back to help…"

"And I am." Strange motioned to the box now in his possession.

"Wait, wait, wait!" MJ begged him.

"Before you do anything, Mister... Doctor Strange, sir, well... Peter's plan is working," Ned said, frantically flapping an arm to his right.

"What plan?" Strange said, frowning.

"He's curing them."

Strange followed Ned's gesture and saw the last of a green smoke clearing a little below where they stood. They had just cured Dr. Connors.

"Well, I'll be damned…" Strange said, taking a moment to look at the sight. Suddenly, his head flipped in Ned's direction. "Were you opening portals?"

"Yes…" Ned said slowly, "Yes, sir, I did."

"Help them," Maribel said to Strange, leaning her head back for a second, "That's why you're here."

"No," Strange snapped, "I am not here for any of you. I'm not a babysitter — that's your self-proclaimed job!"

Peter 1 dropped in beside them, yanking off his mask. "Strange, wait, we're so close—!"

"Skip it! I've been dangling over the Grand Canyon for twelve hours!" Strange exclaimed.

"I know, I know, I, uh, um, uh…" Peter certainly had no argument against that point. It was another of his mistakes.

Peter 2 and 3 soon joined them, both easily getting the gist that Strange wasn't exactly the invited guest to their battle either.

Peter 3 then took notice of Maribel's appearance and almost forgot about Strange altogether. "Mar…what's wrong—"

"Strange, you need to help them," Maribel told the other man again, swallowing hard. She didn't want to alert anyone but she really felt like she would collapse soon. "That's why I found you."

"Look, I am really impressed that you've managed to give them all a second chance, kid," Strange said, looking directly at Peter 1, "But this has to end, now. She—" he jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards Maribel, "—is a firsthand visual of what's happening to the Multiverse right now. It's dying, Peter."

"I-I know that—"

"No, you really don't," Strange cut Peter 1 off, his voice sharp, "Because I swear if there's one more crack, or if she uses her powers one more time, it's game over."

"Don't listen to h-im," Maribel said, her voice unintentionally cracking. She cleared her throat but even that had grown weaker. "I'll be okay."

"Quit lying," Strange reprimanded her, "This needs to—"

Peter 2 stiffened all of a sudden. There was a brief second where his body felt the familiar tingle he long ago felt the first moment he showed up. He turned around, his face full of dread as the Green Goblin's voice called from somewhere unknown.

"Can the Spider-Man come out to play?"

Suddenly, the Green Goblin swooped in on his glider with a swarm of pumpkin bombs behind him. Dr. Octopus stepped in to crush various of the bombs but it still was not enough. The Green Goblin stole the box right out of Strange's hands. One last attempt of Dr. Octopus had his tentacle catch the last bit of the infamous glider.

Strange acted fast with a makeshift whip and snatched the box from the Green Goblin. Instead of fighting for the box, the Green goblin spun his glider and crushed the tentacle keeping him in place then flew off.

"That was too easy…" Maribel mumbled just before all three Peters felt their spider-senses go off.

There was another pumpkin bomb lodged on the box.

"STRANGE, NO!" Peter 1 lunged towards Strange but it was too late. The bomb went off and pushed everyone away from the spot. Ned slipped over the scaffolding and managed to latch onto a rivet. MJ and Maribel both fell from the scaffold along with the debris around them.

Seeing Peter 1 go after MJ, Maribel summoned all her willpower to produce another portal for herself. In one of her lucky streaks, she managed to do it and fell right into it. The same portal opened up somewhere else on the scaffold but much too far from the floor to land comfortably. She fell hard on her back and head, letting out a strained gasp. At the same time, she heard a sharp cry in the air.

"NO!"

Maribel felt so tired; she couldn't move anymore. She hoped whoever had cried was okay because then she wouldn't have to fight her own body to lift herself up.

Somewhere else, Strange had gotten the box back and did what he had to. He raised in the air to start the spell only since too much time had passed since it was cast, it was far harder to keep it restrained.

"Where's Ned!? Where's Maribel!?" MJ cried from the ground beside Peter 3. They both looked up and saw Ned still hanging from the rivet but Maribel was nowhere in sight.

Suddenly, a wave of energy blasted from above. It rocked the ground, and quite possibly the whole city. Ned fell from the rivet with energy but thankfully the cloak of levitation came to his aid. It helped it land safely on the ground.

"Ned!" MJ ran up to him, throwing her arms around him.

"I'm okay! I'm good! I'm good!" Ned exclaimed, soon feeling the cloak unlatch from his body and fly back up to Strange. "Thank you, Mister Cape, sir."

The half finished shield could no longer sustain itself under the energy. It crashed down on the scaffolding, absolutely destroying what was left of it. In the midst of it, Peter 2 was able to help Dr. Connors off the scaffold before it hit the ground. The shield fell to the ground and rolled onto the surface of the Liberty Island, stopping on the water. Up above, the sky was literally ripping apart as interdimensional portals opened up for more uninvited guests to crossover. Even as he tried sealing them, more kept opening up — the numbers made it impossible to beat them all.

"MJ! NED!" Peter 1 cried for his friends.

MJ jumped into action trying to find her Peter. "Peter!?"

"MJ!" Peter found them first and hugged them both. "Are you okay!?"

"Yeah, yeah," MJ nodded, "But Maribel — she-she was falling too. Where is she!? We can't — we can't find her!" Even now, MJ frantically searched the immediate area for their friend.

Peter looked around as well, his stomach churning all over again. Too much debris had fallen, covering most of the ground around them.

"I'll find her!" Peter 3 said in a rushed manner as he dashed past them towards the debris. It didn't take much thinking to realize what had probably happened.

Peter 1, MJ and Ned were right behind them when Peter skidded to a stop, letting the others go ahead of him. His senses were going off again. The Green Goblin was getting up from where he landed. He couldn't let that maniac get even an inch away from there.

No one else noticed when Peter 1 ran in the opposite direction. Between the others, along with Peter 2 who had come to help, they pulled off any and every debris in their way.

"Hey, wait!" Ned exclaimed suddenly. "Help me! Help me!" He pushed a chunk of debris with all his might.

Peter 2 and 3 used their webs to yank it right off the ground. Underneath was an unconscious Maribel.

"Oh my God!" MJ beat all three men to Maribel and landed on her knees beside the older woman. "Maribel!? Maribel!?" She gently shook Maribel, repeating her name over and over to no avail.

"Let me see!" Peter 3 practically yanked MJ back to see Maribel for himself. "Maribel!?" He patted her cheek gently then cradled her head. "Mar? Mar, hey?" She wouldn't move nor wake up. "Mar!"

Maribel's head lulled instead.

Peter 2 bent down and pressed two fingers on the side of Maribel's neck. He looked at the others solemnly.

"N-o," MJ's voice cracked, her eyes filling with tears. "Don't…"

"The energy…" Ned looked up at the sky. The cracks were getting wider, the silhouettes of uninvited guests becoming more and more clear. "If she was connected to the multiverse…"

"Mar! Mar!" Peter 3 exclaimed, holding Maribel's body to his. It couldn't be happening again.

"Oh my God, what do we do?" Ned helplessly looked over at MJ. The latter had tears streaming down her face. "Maribel — she's…" Ned couldn't even finish the sentence.

Peter 2 rose up to his feet, straightening his entire body up and looked at the teens. "There's nothing we can do," he said quietly, his jaw clenched tight. The sight was unbearable; he missed home so much.

"Where's Peter?" MJ sniffed. "He should — we can't leave her…"

Peter 2 looked beyond MJ and Ned and saw exactly what was going on behind their backs. "We have to go!" He said urgently.

Knowing Peter 2 was talking now to him, Peter 3 looked up at his counterpart, his own face stained with tears. Peter 2 nodded up ahead. The sight was also unbearable and so familiar. They couldn't let that happened either. Maribel from this world had helped them reach their youngest doppelganger and even though she was gone, they would make sure that Peter 1 got out okay from this. As hard as it was, Peter 3 tore himself away from Maribel, entrusting her body to MJ and Ned, and followed his older doppelganger away.

~ 0 ~

Although it was a hard fight, and a close one, the Green Goblin received the last of the cures and thus finished Peter 1's task. Now all that was left was to deal with the never ending cracks in the sky and the uninvited guests…as well as the heartbreaking news.

Peter 1 could only gaze over his fallen friend's body. Maribel paid the price of his endeavors, just like his aunt May. He would fix what was left no matter what, even if the price was everyone forgetting him in the process. Dr. Strange made it very clear that even though he could potentially cast another spell to make everyone forget Peter Parker, it would not bring back Maribel. The multiverse had weakened exponentially and once cracked, it could never be put back together the way it was before.

Peter would still take it. Because in the end, he would at least be making the world safer which was what Maribel always urged him to do. Even if it was just one person he could save, he should do it.

And so when he left Strange to perform the spell that would make everyone forget who Peter Parker was, Peter 1 returned to his two doppelgangers to explain the situation. "You're going to go home now," he told them, "Thank you. I just wanted... I wanna tell you that... I really don't know how to say this, like…"

"Peter," Peter 3 tried to intervene.

"I want you to know that I…"

"You know. It's what we do," Peter 2' smile was strained on account of the stab wound on his back, but nonetheless a genuine one.

"About Maribel…" Peter 1's entire (beaten) face fell grim, "I don't…I never meant…"

"We know," Peter 3 nodded at him, his eyes shining with new tears. "Do me a favor and tell her family about everything that she did."

"Her family?" Peter 1 blinked. It only occurred to him now that Maribel had never mentioned her family before. As far as he knew, Maribel ran alone and was merely an honorary Avenger.

"They didn't know about anything. You gotta tell 'em what happened, what she did for us…tell them, please," Peter 3 urged frantically, "They have to know!"

"Yeah, yeah!" Peter 1 nodded fervently. "I will! But hey, you're going to go home and you're going to find your Maribel and…and you're going to make sure she's okay, alright man?"

Surprised etched across Peter 3's face. "What?"

"He's right," Peter 2 said. He would have shrugged if it didn't hurt his back. "Always keep your wife safe."

"What?" Peter 1 and 3 looked at their oldest doppelganger with the same wide eyed face.

Peter 2 just smiled lightly. He'd been waiting to drop that one and was more than satisfied with their stupefied reactions.

"I…I gotta go…" Peter 1 said slowly, the shock of such a news was hard to process when so many things were about to happen. "But, um, thank you…again…seriously." He hugged them both tightly. "Thank you!" He pulled away from them. "I, um, I guess I'll see you."

"Keep safe," Peter 2 and 3 offered their youngest doppelganger a smile.

"Find her family," Peter 3 reiterated, "Please."

"I will," Peter 1 promised.

Now all that was left was to say his goodbyes.

~ 0 ~

Maribel Jenavid

June 7, 1994 - June 24, 2024

Teacher. Mentor.

Multiverse Hero.

Peter 1 had no idea how to manage these kinds of visits. With everyone's minds altered, he couldn't attend his own aunt's funerals, much less Maribel's. He had to resign to come afterwards, so he did. He placed a bright sunflower in front of the gravestone — Maribel's favorite kind of flower.

Strange had been right. Even with the multiverse set back into place, it hadn't been enough to bring Maribel back. Once something was broken, it could never be what it was before.

Aunt May was gone, Maribel was gone, and no one else in the world remembered him. He felt alone and yet a strange feeling of liberty now that he could go as he pleased. His only lament was that his family was practically gone.

"I'm sorry, Maribel," Peter sighed. There was nothing else he could say to her now. What was done was done. He did at least get to Maribel's family — as Spiderman — to explain what Maribel had been up to. She would at least have them visiting her every now and then. There was no reason that both of them should be alone.

Peter could take his solitude so long as everyone else was okay. He just hoped the same extended to his doppelgangers in their respective worlds.

~ 0 ~

It took Peter 3 a while to get a handle on himself and the circumstances that led him back home. He presumed that he and Peter 2 had been allowed to remember what happened with the multiverse because they were already Peter Parker, but now Peter wasn't sure if that was a gift or a curse. Remembering meant that, yes, now he knew there were other doppelgangers of his…but it also meant he remembered that somewhere else, Maribel Jenavid had died. She was dead and buried somewhere, never to see daylight again.

He couldn't take it.

He told Harry Osborn, his only remaining friend in his world. It was a lot to take in but it did help having someone to vent to.

"I don't know, seeing Mar — that Maribel — and learning why our Mar did what she did…it makes me feel stupid," Peter said with a heavy sigh. He leaned back in his seat, meeting Harry's gaze across the table. "What?"

Harry was smiling knowingly. "I never bought the 'she just hates us' bit you started."

Peter rolled his eyes. "What else was I supposed to think?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. So, what are you going to do now? You are going to finally face her, right?"

The mere idea had Peter straightening in his chair in a second, eyes blinking fast. "I mean…" He had promised that he would go find Maribel. He sighed. "I mean, yeah…I guess…just don't know how to start…or what to say to her."

Harry had an answer to one of Peter's troubles. "You can figure out what to tell her on the way. She works in a diner in the Bronx. Think she gets off at seven today."

"How the hell do you know her schedule?" Peter said warily.

"Just because Mar doesn't want to talk to us doesn't mean I won't make sure she's okay," Harry said, "And I always make sure my friends are okay, even from a distance."

Peter could only look at Harry for so long before the guilt started again. He really did take the "distancing" very seriously and now he regretted everything.

~ 0 ~

It took him a few more days after that conversation to work up the courage to find the diner. He arrived at 6:45 pm, fifteen minutes before her shift was supposed to end. He pulled the door open and walked right in, albeit with a cautious step. His eyes raked over the diner and found there weren't many people. It was a random Wednesday night after all.

He went up to the counter where a dark haired woman was chit chatting with the cook on the other side. When the cook saw Peter come up, he pointed the woman to him. She turned around with a professional waitress smile that dropped dead the moment she met Peter.

Peter gulped.

Maribel Jenavid lived.

Her long dark hair was tied up in a high ponytail, a few strands framing her face. Her dark eyes were wide, her lips pursed.

She was alive.

Peter wanted to hug her so badly, it was a miracle his feet were remained grounded. "Hey…" His greeting was raspy at best.

Maribel visibly swallowed hard. "Hi," she responded in a quiet voice. "So…you finally came…" She wasn't surprised in the least, Peter noted. "I know Harry keeps tabs on me — the price of being ex-friends with a rich person, right?" Maribel grabbed a notepad and a pen from underneath the counter. "What can I get you?"

"No, I'm…I'm not here to order," Peter said quietly, "Just want to talk to you."

Maribel waved her pen between her fingers. "I'm working," her voice turned sharp all of a sudden.

"Your shift ends in 15," Peter startled her with his knowledge, but she pushed it away almost immediately.

"Well, I don't want to talk to you," she declared, "In case you didn't get the memo in high school, I'm not interested in being friends anymore." She grabbed her notepad and moved around the counter.

"Yeah, I know that's a lie," Peter turned after her, watching her make way towards the tables. "I know why you did those things in high school. Why you pushed me, Gwen and Harry away…"

Maribel scoffed. "Please." She slipped her notepad inside her apron's pocket and stuck her pen in her ponytail. She stopped by a dirty table to collect the dishes. "Honestly, Peter, the simple truth was that I realized we had nothing in common. You, Gwen and Harry were all brilliant and I was just the local spanish geek. I cut ties for myself."

"Maybe," Peter nodded, "Or maybe you did it thinking you were going to keep us safe."

"Safe?" Maribel laughed softly. "Okay, sure. Safe from what, exactly?" She carried her stack of dirty dishes back to the counter to dump in the sink.

"From your powers," Peter said flatly and watched as Maribel almost dropped the last of the dirty dishes on the ground.

"The hell are you talking about?" Maribel gently placed the dish in the sink, much too gently. She was buying time before she had to face Peter.

"You know what I'm talking about," Peter said calmly, "Those powers you're hiding — the ones you thought you had to hide from us. From me."

"I don't have any powers," Maribel said, turning halfway around, "If I did, do you think I'd be working as a waitress?"

"Having powers doesn't mean you need to have a specific job," Peter said, smiling knowingly, "But it does mean you have to watch yourself. You shouldn't have to watch yourself on your own. We were your friends. We would have helped you out, we would have had your back, Mar."

The usage of her old nickname did have some effect on Maribel. She sucked in a breath and quickly grabbed a random rag left behind. She started wiping the counter. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she reiterated.

"Mar, please," Peter begged her to stop for a moment. His hand came over hers on the counter, freezing her. "You have no idea what I've been through lately." He lowered himself to try and catch Maribel's gaze. "I don't know what to do except that I really need you right now." He finally caught her eyes and revealed his desperate teary-eyed face.

Maribel pursed her lips. Oh, she could never say no to him. "I'll see you at seven," she mumbled and pulled her hand out from under his.

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat as he nodded. He stepped back from the counter and watched Maribel go back to work. He would wait for her outside the diner.

When Maribel finally did come out, she was dressed in a long coat to hide her uniform. The way she looked at Peter on the street made him believe she had hoped — even for a moment — that he wouldn't be there when she got out. That hurt.

"I have to get home," she told him warningly. "I don't like being out at night."

"I can walk you there," Peter immediately volunteered and watched Maribel struggle whether or not to accept his offer. She didn't want him to know where she lived. "Halfway," he compromised.

Maribel finally nodded and the two started walking together.

"Is Harry going to jump out any moment now?" she asked a few steps in.

"No," Peter shook his head, "It's just me."

"Well, what do you need?"

"Um…sort of complicated to explain…but I guess I can start with what I already told you. I know about your powers, Mar."

Maribel side glanced Peter with a flat expression. "There are no powers, Peter. I already told you that."

"Except I know that's not true," Peter said, his nose scrunching.

"Well I don't know who is feeding you those lies because it's not true. I'm just Maribel."

"With powers," Peter nodded.

"Peter."

"I know it, okay?" Peter stopped walking, leaving Maribel to walk a few steps ahead. "And if you would just admit it then I can tell you that I want to help you."

Maribel let out a sour chuckle as she turned around to him. "I don't need anyone's help, Peter. And I certainly don't know who is telling you that I do."

"So you want to be alone then?"

"Yes!"

"No, you don't," Peter shook his head, shrugging slowly, "Because I've been there, and being alone when you're hurting doesn't do you any well."

"Is this because of Gwen?" Maribel's brow furrowed. "Because rest assured I have dealt with my grief alone and I will continue to do it on my own, thank you so much." She turned around again and started walking.

"I met one of your doppelgangers!" Peter blurted, forcing Maribel to come to another stop. "I got trapped in a different universe and your doppelganger saved me. She told me everything about your powers, about you. That's how I know, because of her."

Maribel slowly turned back, staring at Peter oddly. "What?"

Peter sighed. "It's true, I swear."

"I think you finally watched too many sci-fi movies," Maribel said, licking her lips nervously, "Because none of this is true."

"It is," Peter insisted, nodding, "I would never lie to you. But you want to know why I got sent to a different world?"

"You didn't—"

"Because I'm Peter Parker — Spiderman."

"—get…" Maribel's mouth fell open. "Que!?"

Peter ducked his head. This was not how he intended the conversation to go but here they were now. "It's true…"

Maribel was speechless. She eventually had to close her mouth just to be able to swallow. What the fuck!? She couldn't fit those pieces together no matter how much she thought about it.

Peter Parker — Spiderman!? Maribel shook her head.

"I know everything, Mar," Peter insisted, taking the steps he needed to come up to her. He rested a hand on her shoulder. "I know about your powers and how scared you were. You didn't want to hurt us, you didn't want to hurt anyone. You were brave enough to put distance between us and I'm grateful but you don't need to do that anymore."

Maribel didn't say anything. She met Peter's gaze silently.

Peter let out a heavy sigh. "Mar, please. You have no idea what I…what I saw…"

"You keep saying that," Maribel said quietly, "What happened?"

"Your doppelganger…she died. She, um, she helped us and then she died. And I had to leave her in that world." Fresh tears rolled down Peter's face.

Maribel's eyes widened in a second. "My doppelganger died?" Peter nodded. "Oh my God…"

Peter couldn't help it. He pulled Maribel into his arms for a tight hug. He did have to leave the other Maribel but he wouldn't leave his Mar this time.

Maribel was taken aback by the action. It was true that she'd been on her own for a long time now, and she definitely didn't have friends who hugged her anymore…and she always did like Peter's hugs. He was so tall and so warm — how could anyone resist? Slowly, her arms came up around Peter. She let herself relish the moment before the emotions got to her. Before she knew it, tears blurred her vision.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"No—"

"I didn't know what else to do. My powers are tremendous and explosive and I didn't want them to explode around you, around Harry or Gwen—"

"It's alright," Peter rubbed her back comfortingly.

"—and my family. I'm sorry, Peter, I'm so sorry," Maribel sniffed. "I wanted you guys to be safe."

"I know," Peter nodded, "Trust me, I know. I let you go because I wanted you to be safe too. Safe away from Spiderman."

Maribel drew away to look up at him. "I can't believe it. You're Spiderman?"

"Yeah…"

"Oh my God," Maribel stepped back from Peter, "This is so insane. The world is that small, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Peter chuckled. "But listen, you don't have to be so far from us anymore. Let me help you, please."

"I got a good handle on my powers now," Maribel nodded, "I just…I don't use them so often because, well," she shrugged, "there's no need."

No sooner had she said that when the ground started shaking underneath them.

"Peter…?" Maribel looked around and saw everyone else on the block clinging for dear life, confused out of their minds.

Peter had no idea what was going on either. He looked up at the sky and saw a crack beginning to open up. Oh God no. His stomach twisted. "No, no, that can't be right…"

"What isn't?" Maribel followed his gaze up to the sky to see the same crack. "Oh por dios," she gasped. "Don't tell me…"

"You've seen those?" Peter looked down at Maribel.

"Dreams," Maribel whispered, "I-I had this nightmare that I was in New York and…and there were all these cracks in the sky…"

Peter did a double take at her. She couldn't be talking about…no. That was impossible.

The crack in the sky opened impossibly wide and suddenly a long leg plunged through, crashing down on the road. People screamed wildly as another leg came through. There were odd markings on the legs and when the creature — who resembled a demon from a horror story — came through, it revealed a body full of the same markings.

"Runes," Maribel drew in a sharp breath. "I-I saw those too in my dreams. Peter, what did you—"

Peter didn't think twice and shot a web up, latching onto a building. He reached for Maribel and pulled her body flush against his.

"What are you — AH!" Maribel cried as they raced up.

The creature went after them. It would end up chasing them throughout the blocks of the city, narrowly missing them.

"What the hell is that thing!?" Peter couldn't finish answering the question each time they got a moment to breathe in hiding.

"I-I think it's that multiverse thing you were talking about," Maribel pressed her back against the wall, "How ironic that the day you come and find me and start talking about doppelgangers and other worlds is the day that some demonic creature comes after us!"

Peter would have loved to argue that point but the truth was right there. It was uncanny which only led him to believe that maybe whatever problems Peter 1 had in his world weren't quite done with this world.

"PETER!" Maribel screamed when she saw the creature up above them.

"Gotta go!" Peter exclaimed and shot more webs to flee with her.

"Where are we going!?" Maribel cried as they literally flung from one building to the next.

"Well, um, off to see some worlds, you know…" Peter gulped.

"WHAT!? Put me down right now!"

Peter did put her down on the next rooftop they landed on. Maribel pushed all of her hair back which had come undone with all the web flinging.

"Remember when I said I had a good handle on my powers!?"

"Yeah…" Peter nodded slowly.

"Well I lied!" Maribel yelled. "I don't know diddly squat about my powers in a fight! I don't do the 'fighting' and I definitely don't do it against a stupid creature!"

"And yet that creature really seems to want you, explosive powers and all," Peter jerked a thumb behind him.

"It's chasing both of us, let me remind you!" Maribel groaned then looked up at the sky. "What the hell is happening?"

"I don't know," Peter said honestly, "But I think I know who can help us. We're just going to have to do some long distance traveling…"

Maribel looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Mar," Peter grabbed her by the shoulders, "You're going to have to teleport us."

"Teleport us? Teleport us where?"

"To another world."

"Excuse me? I'm not—"

"Mar!" Peter gently shook Maribel. "Listen to me, okay? I saw you die because of these cracks and bad people, alright? I will not see you go through that too. Trust me, please. We have to do this. I'm not losing you again."

Maribel hated the way he used those big eyes of his, all full of emotion and pleading and— goddammit. "Okay," she gave in, "How the hell do we get to another world?"

Peter smiled. "Through you. We'll do it together, okay? Just trust me."

Maribel nodded. "I do." Even with all the time that had passed since she last saw Peter, she still felt like they were still those close friends they used to be. They could go back to bantering about the best movies or the best restaurant in town or just tease each other about something stupid and it could work. Things were always just so easy between them and she missed that the moment she stopped talking to him.

If she didn't end up dying, she would not let Peter go again.

A/N: Sue me but I thought it would be a cool place to end it here lmao. Loved Spiderman, love Multiverse of Madness — why the hell not combine them?

#ocfairygodmother #marvelocsdaily #fd: mcu #mcu #fd: tasm #spiderman #spiderman fics #mcu fics #andrew garfield!spiderman #marvel #mcu imagines #marvel fics #marvel imagines #tasm fics #tasm imagines #spiderman imagines #spiderman x oc fics #oc: maribel jenavid #fic: in the scheme of the multiverse

16 notes · View notes

spiderfunkz · 4 months

Text

thinking about peter parker whos girlfriend is a total book nerd . . . where he'd always take you on dates to the bookstore and insists on buying you a new book. where he'd follow you around the store like a lost puppy while you run around trying to find the book you want.

peter parker who'd always be there to comfort you when your favorite character meets their end, where he would say, "maybe they'll get resurrected in the next book, who knows?" while awkwardly smiling, which usually puts you in the mood again to smile and laugh at his attempt to comfort you. "the series is done peter, that was the last book." you sniff, "hey maybe they'll do a cameo in the prequel!"

peter parker who'd listen to your rambles about your most recent read and do research afterwards because he couldn't process all the lore properly and got confused halfway as you were talking. but even when he is confused, he still listens and nods anyways.

peter parker who waited for it to rain at night so he could recreate the 'kissing & dancing in the rain' scene from one of your favorite books because you wouldn't stop talking about it, and he personally thinks you deserve to experience that at least once. you both ended up getting a cold

peter parker who lays beside you and reads comics while you're reading your books. where he'd slowly inch closer and closer to you and rest his head on your shoulder, placing his comic book down and just slowly fall asleep on your shoulder as you whisper the lines from your book.

peter parker who'd secretly read along from behind and dramatically gasps when a character does something remotely weird. where at the end you two would just start gossiping about how that character would do such things.

676 notes · View notes

luveline · 6 months

Note

hiiii jade!!!! could i please request something with peter with reader who’s maybe put on some weight recently and is insecure about it?? (totally not self indulgent at all) i totally get it if you’re not comfortable writing that stuff though so no pressure

hi lovely! ty for requesting. fem, 1k

cw for negative weight talk/ weight gain

Everybody gains weight during the holidays, you think, tracing your figure in the mirror. Though it's not strictly holiday season yet, it's edging toward the end of the year. Maybe my new year's resolution should be losing a few pounds.

There's a thunk of the bedroom window being yanked open and footsteps across the floor. You tense until your hear Peter panting for breath, likely having swung to you at high speed, or fresh from a fight with an usurped criminal.

You rush back into your t-shirt, knowing exactly what path he'll walk. He barrels into the bathroom, sees you at the mirror and smiles so wide his cheeks look fit to burst. "Hey," he says, peeling the suit off and exposing his boxers to you without shame, "hey hey hey. Can I persuade you in with me?" He nods toward the shower.

"Not this time, Pete."

"Too bad," he laments.

You look away as he strips out of his underwear. The shower turns on and he takes you by the hips to move you out of his way with a murmured apology, near lost to the drum of the spray. Peter has moments where he doesn't know his own strength, but the majority of the time he treats you like you're something precious.

"Stay in here!" he demands as he pulls the curtain shut.

"I'm not going anywhere." You close the toilet and sit on the lid. "Tough day protecting the people?"

"Apart from tripping into a deceptively large pothole, it was fine. Why won't you come in here with me? I wanna rub your shoulders."

"You want me to wash your hair."

"Exactly. So get naked and get in here. Don't make me beg."

You really don't want to, and you're not going to, but it's not a big problem. Peter doesn't truly mind, he just loves you. "What do you mean, deceptively big? Like, knee height? Higher?"

"Mid thigh, I'd say. The people of New York are never gonna let me live it down. One guy was recording me and said he was gonna put it on YouTube for the ad money."

"Anything else?"

He gives you the rundown, describing what perps he faced and an older man he helped use an ATM machine. You hum distractedly, pinching at the fat where it spreads on your thigh, sitting down as you are.

He sticks his face through the curtain gap, hair slicked to his cheeks. "What're you doing?"

"You told me to stay, so I'm staying."

He's nervous for a split second, glancing back into the shower as though there's an answer there waiting for him before angling himself toward you fully, his naked chest dripping and shining in the bathroom light. "Okay, fine, we need to talk about something. But I want you to know that you forced my hand here. Okay?"

"Okay." You nibble the inside of your lip, used to his theatrics. "What have I done?"

"It's not something you've done. It's something you are. I can't even say it. I," —he pulls the curtain in front of his face, moves it aside again– "just need to tell you. Lately it's like you don't even realise how beautiful you are and I'm tired of it. You're radiant. Like, glowing."

Your recent internal debate must show on your face, that doubt, because he gives you a steadying smile. "Really, really beautiful," he says more seriously.

It's easy to smile at him. "Thank you, Pete." You scoop his suit off of the floor. "I'll go scrub the tetanus out of this in the kitchen sink."

"Wait–"

He can't just get out with suds in his hair, giving you the perfect escape plan. You have ten minutes to yourself filling the sink with soapy water and steeping the fabric before he's out of the bedroom in pyjamas, trousers tucked into his socks and hair damp from ferocious towel scrubbing. "You're such a– such a– thing," he decides. "I'm telling you you're beautiful and you walk off so you don't have to hear it? What's wrong with you?" His voice slips into a kinder register. "You do know you're pretty, right? I'm not just saying it to say it."

"I'm just feeling icky," you confide.

"About what?"

You want to tell him, you find. "You know how I've gained weight?"

He doesn't need any more explanation. Peter knows you've gained weight, you've mentioned it to him, and it's visual, and he can likely tell whenever he decides to flex his strength. "What, and you think that makes you less pretty?" He puts a damp hand behind your neck to bring you forward. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, a little."

He kisses you. His nose bumps your nose, his lips crushed to your as he holds you in place. Despite this, it isn't an overly rough connection. It's definitely not shy. "You're beautiful," he says in the space between your lips.

"It doesn't suit me–"

"It does. It really fucking suits you. Have you seen yourself? You couldn't look better."

"Even when I was thinner?"

"You look just as perfect then as you did now." His intensity fades and he encourages you back enough to see your face, his thumb rubbing a short line into your neck. His brows are furrowed, dark eyes darker for it. "Weight isn't a factor."

"No, but you have to say that."

"I don't. Not really. I'm sure there are a thousand shitty guys who'd tell you something different, but I'm not– I love you, the whole you. I like you like this." He grins. "Which should be obvious."

You tsk at him, to his delight, his laughter boyish as he buries his face in your neck with a hug, kissing a messy circle up and into the soft line of your jaw. You trap him there without thinking, chin hooked down, squirming as he blows hot air into your skin.

"I've been putting it on too," he says. "It's happy weight."

"It's not happy weight for you, Pete, it's just more muscle."

"It makes you happy, doesn't it?" he jokes, smiling and kissing and hugging you all at once. "Just like it does on you for me."

3K notes · View notes

heliads · 8 months

Note

Can you do a Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) x Avenger reader one-shot? The reader is a Hydra experiment turned Avenger who has hawk wings and can fly like a bird. She can hide her wings by folding them like a bird can. She grew up somewhere in the US and doesn’t remember her parents, so the closest thing she has to a family is the Avengers. She meets Peter and starts dating him. Her alias, chosen by Tony, is Hawk, which Peter thinks is a little on the nose.

masterlist

You know, at moments like this, you’re really not sure if you’re dreaming or not. The setting around you seems real enough, but it’s happened so many times before that you’re starting to progress past deja vu and into entirely new territory. You could do this sort of mission in your sleep, and at this point, you kind of think you already have.

The scene is simple. Someone has attacked New York, and someone must save the city. This time, it’s not aliens or HYDRA knocking down your door but a new kind of inhuman with a bone to pick. At this rate, you get them so frequently that it’s like a regularly scheduled TV broadcast. Have you caught up on the latest season of unhappy mutants? Nah, I’m still three weeks backlogged on super powered individuals who hate us all.

A voice crackles into your earpiece, and you have to blink hard to get yourself to focus again. A lab tech company stole the blood samples of someone with powers in an attempt to understand more about what makes inhumans so utterly not human. The victim, your criminal of the week, is using his fire powers to burn down the company’s headquarters to prove that they’ll never be able to control him.

See, you’re supposed to be out here stopping the guy, but you kind of see his point. You were a lab experiment yourself a while back, and the results gave you powers and a chance to join the Avengers. Your time as a HYDRA science experiment was the worst experience of your life– agony and horror galore, to say the least– and if this guy’s standing up for the rights of the inhumans to avoid laboratories with a little too keen an interest in your inner workings, you don’t really want to kill him for his troubles.

That’s not the Avengers way, though. You weren’t hired for your thoughts on the rights of inhumans, especially those who suffered in the name of scientific progress, you’re here to save the city and the world and the universe, usually all three at once.

Hence the reason Captain America is chastising you to get your head in the game. This isn’t a time for sightseeing, it’s your chance to protect the innocents as the fire spreads. Thanks to the human-sized hawk wings that have been yours ever since your lab days, you’re in charge of the aerial defense of the Avengers, a role they need you for right now.

Today, you’re not a girl, you’re the Hawk, and you have a job to do. Tony Stark was responsible for your induction into the Avengers, as well as that very obvious alias. He’s also desperate for backup from the sky, especially right now.

You sigh, bid your morals a temporary adieu, and soar down from your vantage point in the clouds. The inhuman isn’t expecting another attacker from above, especially not one moving as fast as you. You tuck your wings into your sides for additional velocity, and slam into him hard enough to knock him to the ground.

Seizing the opportunity of his distraction, Natasha quickly fires electric charges into his chest, knocking the guy out for a few seconds. From there, it’s easy to get some cuffs on the inhuman and shove him into the reinforced mobile holding cell S.H.I.E.L.D. sent over for precisely that purpose.

Steve nods at you. “Thanks for the help, Y/N.”

You smile wearily. “Any time.”

It’s easier to appreciate the Avengers lifestyle now, basking in the glow of having played a pivotal role in keeping the city safe. It’s a little more difficult hours later, when the sun has already set but you’re still trapped in the Avengers complex for a debrief that just won’t end.

It’s not the Avengers’ fault, you know that. S.H.I.E.L.D. has its protocols, and they get a little antsy if they aren’t followed. Still, you can’t help it when your mind starts wandering. You’ve attended enough meetings on the proper rules to be followed when your life is on the line and they all blur together.

You tune back in when Steve says your name. They’re discussing you now, apparently, and the words being said aren’t all compliments.

Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y/N, can you please try to focus for five minutes?”

You grimace. “Sorry, sorry. What were we talking about, exactly?”

Natasha arches a brow. “This, to be honest. You’re not as engaged with the fights as you used to be.”

You wince. “Can you blame me? I’ve been at this for years, Nat, ever since you guys broke me out of the HYDRA labs. I never went to S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, I’ve never been a spy. I’m just doing my best out here.”

Bruce raises his hands placatingly. “We know that, kid, and we’re proud of you. We just need to be sure that you’re one hundred percent on top of things whenever you’re out in the field, for your safety as well as ours.”

You nod. “I’ll try to be better. Sorry.”

Tony frees you at last from the shame of everyone’s disapproving stares. “Look, cut the girl a break. She did well out there, and no one got hurt. If something happens, we can discuss this more seriously, but why punish her for an incident that hasn’t happened yet? Y/N, I know it’s getting late. You can go if you want.”

You jump on that chance and thank him, hurrying out of the room just in time to hear Steve chastising Tony for letting you go as the door closes behind you. You’re not sticking around to be called back. You have no interest in hearing a repeat of the same lecture.

In all honesty, they’re not entirely wrong. You do need to get your head in order. It’s just been difficult to focus on anything, really. Everything feels the same, and why care about any job if a similar mission is going to take place the next week, and the next week, and the next? They all end the same way, and they’re always going to.

You poke your head out of a balcony and, spreading your wings to take flight, soar up to the roof. Everything seems simpler up here. Why stress about the city when it’s nothing more than a thousand pinpricks of light?

You coast on the night breeze for a while before coming to a stop on a neighboring skyscraper. It’s nice to finally be alone, or so you think until a voice sounds from behind you.

“Sorry, is this roof taken?”

You glance behind you to see a figure emerging from the shadows. After a heartbeat, you realize you recognize the red mask, the scarlet and blue suit, the black arachnid logo on the center of the stranger’s chest. This is the Spider-Man you’ve been hearing about in the news lately. He’s saving the city, but doing it his own way, not caught up in the politics of being an Avenger.

Truth be told, you admire him for it. It must be nice to save people without the lecture that always follows you. He doesn’t have to be perfect, he just has to get the job done. What a life to lead.

You shake your head, gesturing beside you. “Not for you. What’s up, Spider-Boy?”

He chuckles as he sits down next to you. “Normally, I’d insist on being referred to as a man, but I’ll let it slide just this once. I’m pretty alright, what about you? I saw you were saving the city again earlier today. I would have joined in, but–”

You shake your head, dismissing his apology. “No need. The Avengers tend to swarm all over things, no need to involve yourself in their mess.”

Spider-Man glances your way, and when he speaks again, his voice is curious. “I take it you’re not on the best of terms with them at the moment?”

You sigh. “Just for now. They’re the only family I’ve ever known, so we get along most of the time. We’ve just been in a rough patch at the moment. I don’t really know why.”

Spider-Man lifts a shoulder. “Well, you said they’re like your family, right? The fights don’t surprise me. All families struggle to get along all the time. I’m sure it’ll blow over in a few days.”

You chuckle. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“I should hope so,” Spider-Man informs you, “I’m kind of the world’s leading expert on superpowered family relationships. I got a college degree in, uh, Avenging Therapy.”

This time, your laugh is easy, carefree. “Well, Mr. Inhuman Therapist, I’d love a little more advice. I’m Y/N, by the way.”

He reaches out a hand to shake yours. “I’m Peter. It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N.”

Lovely, as it turns out, is exactly the right word to use. The two of you talk well into the night, and you find yourself more than reluctant to leave him, even as the call to sleep grows stronger. Luckily, you end up crossing paths again soon, and then accidental meetings happen on purpose, more and more often until you know the face under the mask just as well as you know the so-called vigilante plastered across the newspaper pages.

It’s just nice to have Peter around, that’s all. He reminds you that there’s a life worth living outside of every fight. It takes you a while to realize that he’s the only friend you’ve ever wanted as more than just a friend, the one you like, the one you love, but after that– well, it feels impossible that you could have ever known anything else.

You’re on a similar rooftop one night a few months later when you learn that he feels the same way about you. You were a little late to your usual meetup spot thanks to yet another meeting with the Avengers, but instead of complaining, Peter beams at you and says,

“There she is! The angel of New York City has arrived.”

You laugh. It’s easy, around him. “That’s ridiculous. I’m nobody’s angel.”

The thought is absurd. You have been a lab rat, a soldier, and a civilian, all in turn. These are all roles that you have played, but none of them have ever been truly yours. Never, though, has an angel ever been among their ranks.

Still, Peter seems to believe it. His eyes gleam with certainty. “You’re mine.”

You almost choke on your own incredulity. “You’re joking. Me, an angel? There are at least a dozen S.H.I.E.L.D. files that would argue the opposite.”

“I’m not joking,” Peter hums. “You can’t deny your angel-hood, Y/N. I’ve already given it to you.”

“I’m giving it back,” you tell him. “Find someone who’s actually a good person.”

“I have,” he asserts. “I just don’t get why you can’t see that. It’s fairly obvious to me.”

You tilt your head to the side. “And why is that?”

“Oh, ‘cause I love you, of course,” Peter says, as easily as if he’s stating a simple, well known fact. Your face must have given away your surprise, because he glances over at you again. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” you manage to stutter out, “It’s just, well, I love you too.”

“I know,” he grins, tilting his head up to the night stars.

After that, it gets better, impossibly. As your boyfriend, Peter is in your life even more than before. Sometimes that involves him stopping by your apartment to bring you flowers. Other times, it means he’s willing to help out with the Avengers so long as they don’t ask questions like who he is and why he’s had an abrupt change of heart about wanting to fight with them.

Usually, you don’t want to call him in. The Avengers can be a hassle, which you’ve learned after years of being one of their number. However, when the fights get to be a little out of hand, a little text to your boyfriend means you’ll have another soldier on your side swinging over in five minutes flat, and that’s more welcome than you can even begin to describe.

Even on days like today, when he stops by to take out some robbers who somehow got their hands on alien tech, you couldn’t be happier to see him. The other Avengers are there, and you probably would have got the job done by yourselves, but it would have taken far more time and cost far more blood. Thankfully, you’ve got Spider-Man on dial, and you can solve problems like superpowered thieves in half the time.

You smile at him as he swings up beside you. He’s still got his mask on, of course, but you can sense his smile even despite the fabric in between you. “Thanks for the helping hand, Spider-Man.”

He laughs. “Any time, Angel. You know that.”

Across the street, the Avengers glance up from the robbers they’d been investigating. Tony frowns. “What was that?”

Peter freezes in place. “What was what?”

Tony quickly points his finger between the two of you. “You just called her something. Angel. What was that about?”

Peter lifts a shoulder in his best imitation of a shrug. “A, uh, new callname? Hawk is too obvious.”

Tony narrows his eyes. “And Angel isn’t?”

Peter raises his hands palm up in a universal gesture of helplessness. “I thought it was more interesting, at least.”

Tony doesn’t seem ready to let him off the hook just yet. “And that’s all it is? Just a codename, not anything else?”

Peter’s voice is as smooth as he can make it. “What else could it be, sir?”

You nod, the picture of innocence. “Yeah, Tony, what else could it possibly be?”

Tony stares at both of you, but he can’t find any evidence of wrongdoing. “It had better be. You wouldn’t believe how fast I can squash a spider if need be.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Peter says weakly, and starts hurrying away the second Tony turns his back.

You follow him, giggling to yourself. “Nice save there, bug boy.”

Peter groans. “If I wake up in the middle of the night to find that he’s launched an Iron Army or something to kill me as punishment for dating his adoptive superhero child, it’s totally your fault.”

You pretend to be outraged. “No, it’s not! You’re the one who called me that in the first place, remember? The blame’s all yours.”

Peter reaches an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. “Maybe you shouldn’t be as charming, Y/N. Then I wouldn’t have any problems properly addressing you as a coworker.”

You laugh. “My charm is irresistible, Pete. Give up now.”

“I already have,” he assures you. Such a flirt. You’ve never minded it, though, and you don’t intend to start now.

Sometimes, this city feels as if it was designed to stress you out. As an Avenger, you’ll never have an end to the missions, nor the civilians to save. There will always be one more job in which you could risk your life, and the memories of your time spent in Hydra’s labs won’t let you go anytime soon.

For now, though, the shadows under the skyscrapers seem a little less dark than before, and the faces peering out of apartment windows at you aren’t hostile or threatening but friendly. This is your city, the one you save with your boyfriend. How could it ever be anything but good to you?

requested by @thornyrose463, i hope you enjoy!

marvel tag list: @namoreno, @mayfieldss, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @with-inked-solace, @callsign-scully, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero, @fadedver, @alex-1967s-blog, @crazyhearttragedy

all tags list: @wordsarelife

140 notes · View notes

imaginesfordifferentfandoms · 2 years

Text

The Story of Us

Click here for my masterlist.

Click here to add yourself to my taglist.

Angstember Prompt - “I hope it's worth it.”

You could still remember the first day you had met Peter Parker, despite the years that had passed. You remembered your eyes meeting across the room, remembered him walking up to you in the cafeteria and asking to join you for lunch, you remembered the sparks that seemed to fly instantly, the way the conversation flowed easily between you like you’d known each other for years rather than the few moments you had. The boy before you had made you laugh like no one had before, had made you feel more at ease than you’d ever been and from there you knew he was going to be important to you.

You loved telling the story of how you and Peter met, loved sharing how the two of you had gone from two people alone in the cafeteria to best friends to dating, loved how people smiled and gushed over how cute it was.

Telling the story of how Peter had asked you out was another favourite of yours, it was a story you hoped you were telling years down the line to anyone who would listen, a story you could recite in your sleep. Telling them how he had he had invited you out into the city on New Year’s eve, telling them how you stood surrounded by people cheering and laughing, of how Peter had nervously pulled you close and told you how important you were to him, about how he couldn’t picture his life without you and how much he cared for you. He had timed it perfectly somehow and by the time you were grinning up at him, overwhelmed with happiness, he had cupped your cheek, giving you a chance to pull away from him if you wanted before he pressed his lips to yours softly just as midnight struck, even as people cheered around you the noise seemed to fade as you could only focus on Peter.

From there not much had changed between you and Peter, you already spent so much of your time with the other, shared everything between the two of you, the only thing that really changed was that you could kiss freely now instead of having to shove the urge deep down for fear of messing your friendship up.

The first year of your relationship passed in a blur of happiness, you and Peter falling harder in love with each other every day. Of course you had had a few arguments here and there but nothing serious and nothing that wasn’t resolved the same day. Everything between you and Peter seemed perfect, like you were in a fairy tale.

So the moment everything changed you felt it straight away, it felt like your world had shifted, like things were falling out of place when Peter began to pull away from you. You tried to figure out what had happened, replayed every moment of the last few weeks in your head but couldn’t come up with anything that would have upset him.

It wasn’t like he pushed you away completely but he had definitely put distance between the two of you. It wasn’t until Ben died that the wall between you came crashing into place and it wasn’t like you couldn’t understand his pain, his grief but despite attending the funeral, despite Peter gripping your hand throughout the service he pulled further away, completely ignoring you for days at a time.

You had tried to be there for him but he wouldn’t let you and so you allowed him his wish to be alone, to hopefully work through everything. It wasn’t until he came to school with bruises that you finally had enough, weeks passing since the funeral, and pulled Peter into an empty classroom.

You tried to talk to him, tried to ask him where the bruises came from and why he was being so distant. Peter had just rolled his eyes, his exhaustion clear and only adding to his tenseness. He had told you he was fine, that the bruises were nothing, he told you to stay out of it, that whatever he did was none of your business. You had only been able to scoff at him, shaking your head in disbelief before walking out of the door leaving Peter to regret his words as he slumped tiredly against the wall but he couldn’t stop himself from pushing away from you.

Ben’s death was already on his hands, he refused to put you in danger too.

From that day things had changed, Peter’s resolve to keep away from you only strengthening as he settled into his role as Spider-Man, hating the distance between you, hating the first secret he had to keep from you but knowing it was necessary. He’d rather have you alive and away from him than at his side but dead. He knew he was picking Spider-Man over you but after Uncle Ben…he could save people now. That was his responsibility.

You yourself had gone from being able to walk into any room and knowing your place was a spot next to him, a seat he always made sure to save for you no matter how many people were hanging out in your group, to standing alone, awkwardly in the cafeteria, scanning the room for an empty seat in the span of a few weeks.

You didn’t know what page the two of you were on lately, didn’t know what was going to happen between you. You hoped that he would sort through whatever it was that made him feel like he had to distance himself from you, hoped he’d come back to you but as time passed you found yourself losing hope.

It was clear he was keeping something from you, a secret that he refused to share. It was strange, the two of you had always been so openly honest with each other, never feeling like you had to hide anything, not with how much you trusted each other but now it was clear you’d done something to lose that trust, to make him think he couldn’t tell you things.

As time passed and Peter continued to shove you away despite your countless attempts to show him you were still there for him, to show him you still loved him you felt his walls building themselves higher and higher, too thick for you to be heard from outside them.

Not speaking to Peter was agonisingly painful, having gone from spending everyday with him to not even being able to speak two words to him because he rushed away from you hurt more than anything. You wondered, as you lay in bed alone, if it was killing him, if it was tearing him up, the same way it was you. You wanted to know just what you had done, just what had happened for him to become so closed off from you, wanted to know when your love story seemed to turn into a tragedy, so sure that it wouldn’t have a happy ending.

Spider-Man quickly made a name for himself and Peter was aware of the public opinion, of the supporters he had and of the enemies he was making. He was aware people tried to piece together who the man under the mask was and aware of how much some people wanted him gone. His bruised eye and busted lip as well as his sore muscles really hammered home just how much some bad guys really hated him but he was doing the right thing, just last night alone he had stopped several muggings, webbed a guy who was about to shoot up a shop and stopped a guy as he followed a woman home.

He was doing the right thing, he knew he was and yet as he saw you across the room, alone with an air of sadness around you, doing your best to seem busy even when he could tell you weren’t, his heart ached. He watched as you fiddled with the ends of your sleeves, saw how uncomfortable you looked and he knew it was wrong, the image was completely wrong because you weren’t supposed to be sad, you weren’t supposed to have a frown on your face and he was supposed to be next to you.

Instead he stayed as far away from you as possible, avoiding you so that you wouldn’t find out his secret. He couldn’t risk you, he would never do it. He knew you’d have rolled your eyes at him, knew you’d be furious at him for making the decision for you without giving you a choice but he couldn’t lose you. If somebody did somehow put together that Peter was Spider-Man then they would surely exploit every weakness he had and you were the biggest one he had. He would never put you in that position, no matter how much it hurt to see you this way.

He was doing the right thing, it was a mantra he repeated in his head, forcing himself to remember it every time he saw you.

Being forced to see Peter every day at school, to see him and not be able to touch him, to even speak to him was tearing you about, it felt like you were losing your mind. It was clear that whatever had caused him to pull away from you wasn’t going to fix itself. Peter seemed more than happy to hold onto whatever it was keeping you apart than to hold onto you. It was a thought that cut you deep, at one point you thought you were worth more to him than that but clearly not. As the days passed it became more and more obvious that when you told the story of you and Peter it wouldn’t be about love anymore but more about your descent into madness as you struggled to understand how things had gone so wrong.

You knew the relationship was done but neither one of you had uttered the words and despite knowing that it was the unavoidable outcome you were still scared for the ending, at least now there was the tiniest shred of hope but you knew it wasn’t worth holding onto anymore. All you wanted to do was curl up in his arms, tell him you missed him but you couldn’t, you didn’t even know how to speak to him anymore and yet despite the fact that no words had passed between the two of you the silence was louder than anything.

You had been waiting for it and yet when it happened it felt like you hadn’t been prepared at all, not when Peter walked up to your locker after school, running a hand through his hair as he asked if the two of you could talk. You’d nodded of course, knew logically how this conversation was going to go and yet somehow, somehow there was still a part of you hoping this was him ready to put aside whatever had happened and work it out together.

The two of you walked for a while until you came to a quiet spot and sat down side by side on an empty bench. It was a nice day out and you kind of hated it, it felt like it should be pouring rain, maybe storm clouds hanging over your heads whilst this conversation happened but instead there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the sun shone brightly.

“I’m sorry, Y/N/N,” Peter began, finally breaking the silence that had settled between the two, “I’m so sorry for everything.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat as tears stung your eyes but you tried to blink them away as best you could, knowing there wasn’t a different ending to this story and wanting to get it done with, knowing it was going to hurt more the longer it was dragged.

As you sat at his side you allowed yourself a moment to draw comfort from having him this close, allowed yourself a moment to memorise him, not knowing if you’d have the chance again. There were so many things you wanted to say to him, were sure there was so much he wanted to say to you but those words would go unspoken, kept only for yourselves to know, never to be shared.

“Will you at least tell me what I did?” You pleaded, the question had been plaguing you for so long now and you just wanted an answer.

You watched as Peter turned to you, his own eyes wide and watery as he shook his head, hand reaching out for you before he pulled it away. You took a shaky breath, desperately trying to keep your tears at bay, wanting nothing more than to feel his touch but knowing you couldn’t.

“No, no baby,” Peter said, wincing as the word slipped out of his mouth without him meaning to but carrying on anyway, “this isn’t because of you, this is all me.”

“What happened? I thought we were happy.” You figured you weren’t going to get a solid answer, you thought you deserved one but weren’t holding your breath.

“We were. I’m sorry Y/N, I really am but I just…I have to protect you, even if you hate me at least you’ll be ok, you have to be ok and you won’t be, not around me. I can’t lose you, Y/N.” Peter told you, the words falling from his lips like he couldn’t stop them, him rambling as you looked at him in confusion, not making sense of the words.

“Peter, what are you talking about? I’ve always been ok around you, I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you. You’re saying you can’t lose me and yet you’re the one walking away from us.” You couldn’t understand his reasoning. Confusion, anger, sadness all running through you as you looked at him.

“I can’t explain it, Y/N/N.” He whispered, looking away from you and down at his hands resting in his lap. “I want to, I really do but I can’t.”

His voice was thick with emotions, tears pooling in his eye, threatening to fall as were your own but you only took another breath and sat up straighter on the bench. This wasn’t the ending your story with Peter deserved, it wasn’t the one you ever thought it would get and yet here the two of you were, saying goodbye to everything you had together.

“I really hope it’s worth it.” You told him, voice barely a whisper as you choked back tears, standing from the bench.

You watched Peter straighten, watched his hand lift again to pull you back before he decided against it. He knew he had to let you go, knew it was the right thing even if it didn’t feel like it. He couldn’t risk losing you, you were too important to him.

Even so, as he watched you walk away from him, keeping his eyes on you until you disappeared from view he couldn’t help but think about your last words. Was being Spider-Man worth it? Yes it was, he made a difference, he saved people but having to lose you to do it left him feeling empty.

You forced yourself to walk away, forced yourself to hold the tears back until you were far enough away from him before you had to stop, sitting on the stairs of a random apartment block to finally letting the tears fall freely, not caring about any glances sent your way.

It seemed like such a terrible ending, so many good memories, amazing experiences together. The way he made you feel had just been thrown to the side, no longer good enough for him. It hurt more that you still didn’t know the reason behind the decision, hated that your mind would always focus on the what if’s now. This was not the ending you deserved with Peter, your story was supposed to be good, it had been good and yet the ending was playing out clearly in real time with you, alone, sobbing in the streets of New York and Peter left alone, still sitting on the bench with his own tears falling down his face.

That was the end of the story of you and Peter.

Peter Parker Taglist -

@inas-thing, @xxchaotic, @lovelyvante, @standarizedpumpkins, @ukai-hoe, @bxmaaa, @cwritesforfun, @siriusstwelveyears, @daisyfreshwhore, @myguiltypleasures21, @luluwinchester, @polyglot-noodle, @alexxavicry, @mukbee, @bubsonnobx , @heyitsaloy, @eddiefrickenmunson, @f-sant, @fairydxll, @valluvsu, @sjprongs

@izzyyy-1, @lizamango, @beaconings, @randomwriter1021, @lucyysthings , @morganaah, @sylvies4ever, @taylordidsomthingbad, @kaitieskidmore1, @hydeonysus, @freeshavocadoooo, @writeroutoftime, @mrslizzyolsen, @kosmic-klouds, @idli-dosa, @allthingsmarvellove,

#peter parker #tasm #spiderman #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #tasm x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #tasm imagine #tasm imagines #spiderman imagines #spiderman imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagines #marvel imagine

139 notes · View notes

webslingingslasher · 2 months

Text

Begin Again

an: this has been a long time in the making and I think it's a favorite of mine.

Pairing: Peter Parker X Mean!Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers.

CW: harsh language, mental breakdowns, mentions of cheating (not peter)

Word Count: 24K

Summary: You've lived next door to Peter your whole life and the last nine years you've detested him. Now you're going through a breakup and it's nice to know someone's awake with you. Even if it is Peter Parker.

Breakups suck.

That’s it. That’s the whole message. There’s nothing else to add, except you’d never let yourself love again. It’s not like you didn’t know it wasn’t going to happen, you were aware the entire year what it would lead into, but hasn’t every girl sworn, at least once, they were the exception to a boys rule?

Natalie Greene’s voice echoed in your mind, “don’t get involved with a senior boy. They move on and you’re left picking up the pieces in homeroom.” You didn’t listen. You got involved and it was a good year, you knew he was going to college and when he left the break up was inevitable. Still, it didn’t hurt as hard until three months into the school year he called and said he met someone else.

You wish you weren’t so kind and understanding to him.

You called Natalie Greene the second it ended, she picked up and that angel voice of hers shined through the phone. She asked ‘hello?’ three times before you sobbed. You could feel the empathy in her tone, ‘he ended it, huh?’ All you could do is squeak back, ‘stay right there babe, I’m on my way with the break up kit.’

She showed up with a stray grocery bag. “alright,” she stated, hands on her hips.

“I got ice cream, a super soft blanket, movies - of all genres, face masks, a lighter-”

“Why do you have a lighter?”

Natalie rolls her eyes with a goofy grin, “to burn stuff, duh.“

The gesture was nice, but you couldn’t focus on the movie.

It felt like everytime you blinked there were tears that would find themselves tracking down your cheeks, you sniffled occasionally and blankly stared at the screen; flashbacks clouding your mind. Each kiss, each laugh, each touch, every fight and makeup, the first time you felt someone's hips melt into yours.

A supercut of every moment.

You were replaying a thousand things and all he was thinking about was the new girl under him, you were angry at everything all at once. Angry at yourself for letting yourself get hurt and feeling this much pain, because you knew it was coming, it was the whole agreement when it started. Angry at him for not breaking his promise and loving you anyway, angry at him for not telling you he’d wait for you and everything would be okay.

Angry that you hate him and yourself but more angry how quickly you’d fall back into him if he called.

“I knew this was gonna happen, Nat.” You sniff, a cry bubbles from your throat, “so why does it hurt so bad?”

Your friend frowns, she’s no savor to heartbreak. She’s been where you are more times than one could take, she still loves with her whole heart and you don’t know if you could ever do it again. Natalie wraps her arms around your shoulders while you shake with a sob, you cry into her knowing you're matting her blonde hair but she just pats you and holds you close.

“Because even though the ending was coming it didn’t feel real until the book closed. And maybe a little bit because you hoped he’d change his mind.”

You gasp, “how do I get past this? Nat, it feels..”

You’re tugged into her so tight you can feel her collarbone against your cheek, “like you’re dying? Yeah, that happens. But, you’ll live. It doesn’t feel like it now, but the day will come where you can think about him, smile, and thank him for the opportunity.”

You snort, “for breaking my heart?”

Natalie Greene holds you as tight as she can, “for making you grow.”

Your shoulders feel like they’re falling behind you as you inch along the hallway, everything feels heavy. Your feet are like lead blocks, and your heart feels like it’s been tied down with an anchor. It hurts more to know he’s not aching like this, he has someone new to keep him busy.

Blinking at your locker you fight back a yawn, two weeks after heartbreak and it still feels the same. You sleep like shit, tossing and turning and weird dreams when you finally dozed off. The one thing that’s helped keep your mind away from him, was your neighbor. Every night, at 3:02 am, on the dot, you hear the same movements.

A window slams shut, two soft hops on the floor and three bumps against the wall.

For six nights straight you kept count, it was methodical. A nightly routine, you weren’t sure what he was doing, but it was something. It made your mind wonder, your most recent theory was that he was a smoker; weed, cigarettes or whatever, and he would blow smoke out his window before landing in bed.

Maybe his bed was against your wall and that’s why you heard so many small knocks.

Last night you stayed up, you waited and right on the minute, like you expected, you heard a window slam shut. A small grin crossed your face, not at him, but at the idea of a constant. You lost your reliable figure, he’s thousands of miles away with his own new person, but tonight, and for the last seven nights you’ve had something to rely on. Something that couldn’t go anywhere.

You blink and suddenly you’re staring at your open locker, you don’t even remember putting in the combination. On autopilot you grab what you need for your next three classes and shrug your backpack down. Lately, it seemed like everything moved in slow motion.

“Are we ready to go to Flash’s party friday and makeout with a rando or are we still numb to everything?”

Natalie smiles at your figure, when you slouch and give her a “hey, Nat,” her blonde hair bounces as she nods her head understandingly, “still dead to the world, understandable.”

“At this point I’d do heroin to feel something,” your deadstare makes her think you might be serious. “Tell you what, if you’re still this miserable in six weeks, we’ll do it together.”

Your eyebrow quirks, “you’d do heroin with me if I’m still this miserable?”

Natalie Greene’s hand sticks out, her eyes ferocious. You know immediately she has something up her sleeve.

“Six weeks, starting today.”

You have nothing else to go on except the nightly wake up call and Natalie Greene’s plan.

“Six weeks.”

It’s solidified with a handshake, your fingertips turn white in her hold.

WEEK ONE.

Natalie Greene had talked you into going to Flash’s party, not to makeout with anyone, she quickly withdrew that from the table. You had been very hesitant at first, pushing at every restraint and reason to why you shouldn’t go and she stopped you right there. Manicured hand and all, petite and poised, she stopped your path.

“Here’s why you should go: get fucking wrecked, absolutely smashed and let it all out. I promise you, babe, it feels so, so good.”

“You think that will make me feel better? Getting hammered at a house party on a friday night?”

“I’ll take care of you for the night, okay? I’ll get you drunk and you can cry or scream or whatever you want. Let go of anything you’re holding back, that’s why you should go.”

You look her over, she’s been your rock the last three years in the school. Natalie is different, she protects and cares for herself like she does someone else. She also gives out more of her heart than she should, but she appreciates the burn it leaves. She tells you it’s one more ache preparing her for the one who would never make it hurt again.

If Natalie Greene says it’ll help, you’ll listen.

“You’ll drive me home and take care of me the next morning? Hungover and all?”

A denim jacket covered shoulder shrugs, “I think it’s time I repay you for all these years.”

For the first time in two weeks a real smile crosses your face, it’s small but it’s there.

Flashforward two days later, you’re eight drinks in and feeling like you’re flying.

You sway against your friend, “and he,” you hiccup, “he said he was like, soooo in love with me but then like, fuckin four days later,” it took you a moment to hold up the correct number on your hand, “boom, no boyfriend.” Natalie tried to hold back a laugh but her cheeks blew up when she let it escape, you pulled the most comical ‘what the fuck?’ face.

“I mean who the fuck does that- a sick person. That’s who! And- And you know what?” you hiccup, “I thought I’d be sad, but I just kinda hate him, does that make me bad?”

“Nah, I had some that killed me inside and some that I just shrugged off. Some moved in waves. One minute I’d say ‘fuck him!’ and the next I’d be overwhelmed with sadness because I didn’t have anyone to hold me anymore.”

You blink at her words and swallow the rest of your cup, you hadn’t thought about that part yet. Not having anyone to call yours anymore, that’s the hardest hitting part. You really, really wanted to call him. Just one more time, maybe he misses you just as much, maybe he doesn’t know how to say sorry, maybe he’s waiting for you to call.

“I should call him, right?” Your hands fumble at your pockets, your friend panics and grabs at your arms. “No! No, no, no! You absolutely should not call him!” You whine, “but what if he-”

Natalie grabs you tight, it makes you look at her confused. Her tone takes a sharp turn, she breaks through your drunken stupor in a second.

“He’s not. He’s not thinking about you, he’s not missing you, he’s not sitting around wishing you’d call him, he’s just not. He broke up with you, you don’t do that if you still care. Don’t do that to yourself, it ended mature. You have to be mature now.”

Brutal honesty. It puts everything in perspective.

He didn’t miss you, and that… really, really hurt.

Natalie was right, it comes in waves. Because there comes that sadness, it starts with small blinks and suddenly fat tears skip down your cheeks. “You’re right! He, he doesn’t-” you take harsh breaths, for the first time in two weeks you had a full breakdown. Everything you held back bottled over, you didn’t know how you could hold in so much hurt.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go, we can cry in the car but not here.”

Your breath shook the entire way to the car, the moment you sat in the passenger seat you cried. Your voice cracked, “he said he loved me!” Natalie nodded, cranking the engine, “And I’m sure he did, babe. Sometimes these things run their course and it’s no one's fault.”

It went like that the entire car ride, until she stopped at a McDonald's and got you a milkshake so you could focus on getting the liquid up the straw instead of saying the same three things on a loop. Once you got fries in your mouth the thought of him was erased from your mind, choosing to sing loudly and stick your head out the window on the way back.

Stumbling and giggling quietly at the late hour while you swayed on the walk to your door, you stretched freely and yawned when you stumbled in. Home alone for the weekend, just how it should be. “I’m getting naked,” you started stripping while walking to your room to change into pajamas, your heart lurches when you see one of his shirts.

You flop backwards on your bed, the room slightly spins and you close your eyes tight trying to ground yourself. Wriggling into the sheets you sigh, and yawn again. Your head buries into a pillow and sleep is imminent.

“Sleepy?”

Natalie Greene stands in the doorway with water and some advil, you smile and pat your bed, inviting her to join.

“Natalie Greene, you are so great, did you know that?”

Your friend laughs, you nuzzle into her hand while she strokes your hair, “I did, but a reminder is always nice. Go to sleep, babe. I’ll make toast in the morning.”

Her gentle touch makes it easy, you yawn one more time. Your voice flutters while you talk into sleep.

“Do me a favor?”

“Anything,” she whispers. You don’t think he ever loved you this soft.

“Make sure he gets home for me.”

Natalie Greene asked who but all she received were soft snores.

The birds were screaming the earth back awake.

At least that’s how it felt, your ears were ringing and there was a dull, present thud in your head. The sunlight has never been so bright, you hold your eyes shut but the ache gets louder and you can’t get comfortable.

There��s two pills and half a glass of water waiting for you, god bless Natalie Greene.

“Good morning, sunshine!” You wince and choke on your gulp of water, a knife has pierced your eardrum. “Oh my god, everything is on dial eleven, I think I’m dying.”

“How are you feeling? Besides the obvious, I mean.”

She means about him, you take a moment to really think about it.

“I think… I think I’m doing okay.”

Your friend smiles and throws her hair into a ponytail, “good, I’m making breakfast. Come join.”

After ten minutes and infinite pep talk you rise on shaky knees, stumbling towards your door and barely making it to the couch where you spread wide and gulped for air. Your friend snorted at your exaggeration over her shoulder and carefully walked towards you with a piping mug of tea.

Sitting up you bring a blanket over your shoulders, you squint at her before taking the handle. Taking a sip while you turn the TV on, searching for a midmorning throwaway show. A re-run of The Wendy Williams Show wins, you rest your head on a cushion and stare blankly at the screen. Natalie Greene humming up a tune in the kitchen.

You hadn’t even checked your phone yet, “what time is it?”

“Noon thirty.”

Your eyes widen, “my god,” you mumble to yourself.

Listening to Wendy your eyes lull shut and suddenly you're sinking back into sleep, you roll over and smack your dry lips. Until your friend is kicking at your shin with two plates in her hands, stacked full of the breakfast nines.

Your queasy stomach grumbles and any drowsiness is ripped away with hunger. Nearly drooling, you stuff a piece of french toast in your mouth and moan, “Nat, you’re the greatest thing I got.” She bounces her shoulder into yours, “I know.”

You fall into silence while you scarf breakfast down, booing and applauding when deemed necessary by Wendy. Leaning back you rest your hands over your full belly and pat gently. Swiping your tongue over your gums for any crumbs, you sigh happily.

“Hey, what did you mean last night? You said to let you know if he got home safely.”

You wave her off, “drunk stupidness, I hear my neighbor every night around the same time moving around. This last week, I dunno, it felt nice knowing someone else was up too?”

“Have you ever-”

Both your necks turn to look at the front door then back at each other, the knocking that caught your attention continues.

“Who’s-”

“Did you-”

You swallow and stand up, not so shaky anymore. Looking through the peephole your forehead hits the door at the sight of said neighbor, you know what they say about devils and appearing, groaning you take a moment to collect yourself and open the door.

“What do you want, penis?”

Peter Parker in all his glory, is knocking at your door with a plate of… cookies?

Neighbors forever, close pals never. You’d played together as kids, mostly elementary age but since you were eight you’ve had a disdain for Peter Parker. You’re not sure where it went wrong, but just looking at him you wanted to roll your eyes.

“I was going to say, ‘wow, how could a guy ever dump you?’ but now, I’d say that’s how.”

Normally that wouldn’t hurt, but the recent circumstances made it a cheap shot.

“Is this your sorry attempt to be a rebound? Because if it is, I want to make it extremely clear I’d rather eat glass than-”

The plate is shoved into your face, “May had me bring these over, she said your mom told her you’ve been a weepy, miserable mess because some dickhead thought he found someone better.”

You huff at him, your fingers wrap around his wristwatch as you pull it down, all you heard was weepy and miserable.

“I know you wouldn’t know anything about someone loving you but-”

“Is that Peter B. Parker?”

Natalie Greene reminds you of your hangover in record timing, you wince at her shriek. Peter gives a polite, dare you say charming (?) smile. It makes you fight back a gag, “hello, Natalie Greene.” Her eyes flash from his, to the plate, to the cracked open door across the hall and she gets a wicked grin.

The person you’ve hated and bickered with the most is suddenly the one you listen out for in the middle of the night. The look on her face, the glance she shared with you, proved she knew.

“Cookies?” Natalie nudges your arm, “he brought cookies and he’s right across the hallway, how nice.”

Peter’s oblivious to her tone, he has his goofy smile on and it makes you seeth. He’s always so god damn happy, it’s annoying.

“Well, actually, my aunt made them. But I am delivering, so I can accept some praise.”

She laughs, full on cackles and nudges you again.

“You know, in all the times you talked about Peter you never mentioned how funny he was!”

You don’t know what she’s playing at but you’re shutting it down immediately.

Peter looks at you, he seems almost hopeful and you have to settle the urge to toss the plate to the ground. “You talk about me?”

You cross your arms and sneer, “don’t worry, nothing good.”

His smile drops, “yeah, sorry. I don’t know why..” his curls bounce as he gently shakes his head before pushing the glass into your chest. “Here, eat as many as it takes to feel somewhat okay again.”

You grip the plate and look down, they’re your favorite.

“We, um. We have more over here, so if you want more. Or if you wanna hang out or something I’m here, so…”

Peter’s never been a friend like this before and it was some pity party you wanted no part of now.

“It’s a breakup. I’m sure I can manage without you just fine.”

His eyebrows turn in, “right. I just thought- nevermind, enjoy the cookies.”

Natalie gives him a sympathetic frown and sulks back inside, you keep your glare on his figure until he reaches his door. As you’re about to retreat he stops in the doorway, “for what it’s worth, I think he’s stupid and he’s gonna realize what he lost when it’s way too late.”

It’s almost nice, sometimes it sucks when the person you’re supposed to hate has human peek through their armor.

Too bad you’re more guarded than ever.

“Well, then. It’s a good thing you’re not worth much.”

Maybe it’s his resilience that troubles you, no matter how hard you push him away or beat him down with words he’ll pick himself back up and hand your words back in a package of self reflection.

Today is no exception, Peter flashes you a sad smile, this one actually is filled with pity.

“I’m sorry you’re hurting,” you didn’t have a chance to fire back. His door was already shut.

Heartache throbbed but the cookies were damn good.

On your third, you down half a cup of milk. You reach for a fourth and Natalie hasn’t said one word. Instead she cleaned the kitchen and packed up her overnight bag, before settling next to you for an episode of Jerry Springer and her own deserved treat.

“So, do tell, my friend. Is Peter the one you wanted to know was home safe?”

Deny till death.

“No way, I’m talking about Mr. Harrington, he’s like a hundred years old.”

Natalie takes her time chewing and swallowing, “your hundred year old neighbor is up in the middle of the night?”

It’s dumb to lie, you and her know the truth.

You shrug and take a fifth cookie, “he may have a routine, I dunno.”

Your friend hums, “I just thought it may be Peter, cause you share a wall and all.”

Gagging at his name you shake it off, “Gross! It’s bad enough knowing the plate these were on were in his hands.” It takes you a second but you’re able to plow through another bite.

“I just… why do we hate Peter so much?”

You don’t know, you think you blocked it out. Every time you look at him a weird feeling bubbles up and it makes you want to scream, cry, fight and hug it out with him in one second. It’s easier to bark at him than confront him about your feelings.

“I don’t know. He’s just a pest to me, every time I turn around he’s there. And I swear to god he spilled the beans about that party last year.”

Natalie Greene knows three things to be true.

One: Peter Parker likes you, you just don’t know it yet.

“What if you talked to him?”

Cookie crumbs fall over your shirt as you talk, “I’m sorry, what?”

Two: You like Peter Parker, you just don’t know it yet.

“If you need me and I’m not around, if you need someone to support you through this and I can’t be here, promise me you’ll knock on his door.”

You scoff at the idea, “yeah, sure.” she’s not very confident you mean it.

“Seriously, promise me right now if I can’t be there for you, you’ll ask him.”

She was serious, something in her tone made you shift and agree. It’s not like she’d go anywhere, Natalie Green was your lifeline.

“Alright! If you aren’t around and it’s literally life or death, I’ll ask… him.”

Three: Things get worse before they get better, you just don’t know it yet.

WEEK TWO.

Your mornings always started the same, a routine was important to you. It was consistent. It was wake up, hit up the bathroom, change, yawn and rub your eyes through breakfast before leaving to thrive in silence before school.

Today, when leaving, right as you’re pocketing your keys, your neighbor speaks out.

“Hey.”

You freeze, it’s rare you run into Peter in the mornings. You figure he leaves way earlier, or later than you. But when you do, you ignore each other with silence. You really don’t like the sudden change.

“How are you doing?”

You wonder if he heard you crying last night, you thought you got rid of it after the party. You didn’t understand how you could be happy one moment and miserable the next. What made it worse was when 3:02 am hit and you heard his window slam, your sniffles settled.

“Like I was dumped, thanks for the reminder.”

Your foot hits the first step when he calls out, “and the cookies?”

Biting your bottom lip you turn, it really was a nice gesture. You may not like him, but you loved May and she’s the one that put in all that hard work. Peter lights up when you face him, if he had a tail he’d start wagging it. It makes you bite down on your cheek, he doesn’t deserve unprovoked rage.

“They were really good,” you take three steps before turning back around.

“And, I uh, took your advice. Ate the whole plate, I mean.”

Peter fumbles, his key chain drops but he stays looking at you. His thumb shoots behind him to point at his door, “we have like, twenty left. Want some more?”

You shake your head softly, “maybe later?” Peter nods exuberantly, “yeah, yeah. I’ll bring them over.”

You curl your lip up and stomp down the steps, “thanks for the warning, penis!”

This was it.

This was your worst nightmare.

Not only did things get shuffled around until you were sitting next to Peter at dinner, where you made it a point to scoot your chair away from him when his shoulder touched yours and immediately swiped the area clean- But now you blinked blankly at your dinner while your mom droned on and on and on about the guy who dumped you. It didn’t matter if it was good or bad, you just wanted her to stop.

“And he was so sweet, wasn’t he? Honey, are you sure he hasn’t reached out? It’s not too late to call him, maybe if you-” May didn’t deserve to see you upset, and it kills you that Peter saw that emotion. Your mom didn’t even deserve it, you were so sick of trying to keep it together.

Your chair screeches with how quick you jump out of your seat.

“He doesn’t give a shit, he dumped me! So why do you think he’d call? He doesn’t want me, I mean he’s made that clear right?” Your eyes shoot to May’s, “I’m right, right? You don’t break up with someone if you still care, or want them, right?”

Tears haze your vision, “he ended it with me mom, and you know why? It’s cause he found a new girl! He fucking-” water rushes down your cheeks but you don’t stop, “he,” you collapse on the word, you can’t get a good inhale on breath.

“He left me to pick up the pieces, that’s all he did.” It clicked full motion, he left you behind and ended it. He got a fresh start and you were left trying to hold it together, like how it was, how it was supposed to be.

You sob, your chest has never felt so tight. Shaky breaths fade into sharp inhales, you can’t fucking breathe. Gasping you put a hand over your heart, you know in the back of your mind it’s a panic attack but all you feel is imminent death.

Peter stands and blocks your body with his, you don’t know what’s happening but you’re trying to get away. Each step you take backwards he takes one forwards until you're wheezing in your room, your ears are ringing and it feels like a heart attack is in approach. Your eyes squeeze shut and in an instant you feel calmer, it’s not because of your sudden blink. It’s because Peter has his hands over your ears pressing in, your back against the wall and front against his chest.

It’s the last place you want to be but you’re angry, and he’s there, and it’s all coming out.

You’re able to breathe but at what cost? You grip Peter’s shirt as tight as you could and wail into his chest, it’s the first time you’ve ever actually felt him against you. He’s more sturdy than you thought, as you push more and more weight on him he doesn’t stagger one bit. His arms held you to him, keeping steady until you’d push him away.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you coughed the words into his shirt, you held tighter when his only response was resting his chin on your head. You apologized and cried until you ran out of tears and your breaths were nothing but sharp inhales.

When reality hits and you realize you've been crying into Peter’s hold for minutes you push him away and wipe your nose. Avoiding his eyes, you look to the carpet, you have a fresh cry glow and mindset, it’s the good kind of emotional numb.

“I, um, I still have those cookies?”

Those being his choice of words after a troubling breakdown was warming, it made you feel like you weren’t so crazy. Or at least, Peter didn’t see you as crazy, which when thinking about didn’t mean much.

You can’t help but laugh, it’s so loud and opposite of every other emotion you spilled tonight it makes him jump, you see him setting up for the attack. The moment you snap at him and call him a weirdo for cornering you and throwing himself on you.

Tonight, you were full of surprises.

“Yeah,” you nod your head and wipe your nose one last time, “I’d love to come over for cookies.”

You had to look away from his smile, it was too blinding.

You broke the rule, you went lurking and hurt your own feelings. She’s all over his instagram, and she’s pretty. He’s all over hers, dating back to five months ago.

You do a double take, five months?

He had been cheating on you for months before he ended it. You feel sick. He told you he loved you while he was in bed with another girl. You felt so much rage inside you couldn’t hold it in, Natalie was too far away and Peter’s already seen you at your worst.

You move without thinking, slamming your fist on his door.

Wide eyes open it, Peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared he was the subject of attack. You swerve past him, if you were in a cartoon, steam would be billowing from your ears. You didn’t get angry often, and you’ve never felt upset enough to punch someone, but all you could think about was screaming and slamming your fist into the wall.

“I hate him, I fucking hate him so fucking much. If you ever hear me crying I need you to come over and tell me I’m absolutely pathetic for crying over a fucking cheater.”

While he’s glad you’re not there to yell at him, his heart sinks for you.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It was right in front of my face, too. She’d been claiming him since the second week of school. I’ve been a fool, god, I fucking hate him. I hate him so much I… I want to break something.”

Peter eyes his science notebook, he doesn’t have anything for you to break, but he has something that will make enough noise to drown out the voices. He grabs it and holds it out, you gently take it giving him a confused look.

“Wack it. Beat the absolute shit out of it on the counter.”

You look unsure, you don’t want to ruin his things, even if you don’t like him.

“Right on the edge, go on, do it.” His egging you on makes you follow his command, it’s gentle.

“Harder,” you test it.

“Harder,” you give a smack, it makes a popping sound and you jump, it feels good.

“Like you mean it, like you need it.” You do it again, it’s louder. You strike down without instruction, Peter starts barking at you, it makes you angrier.

“Harder, don’t be so weak!”

He hit the right nerve, you can’t stop, you’re moving so quick and using so much force the spine starts to rip from the cardboard. It feels good destroying something, it makes you beat the laminate harder. Loud cracks echoing from the walls.

You heave for air, every bit of force directed into your diminished trust. You yell between each blow.

“Fucking!”

“Piece!”

“Of!”

“Shit!”

You start to slow down, Peter’s notebook is fucked. You feel bad. Gasping for air when you’re done, Peter gives you a head nod, “better?”

You nod, “lots. Sorry about your book.” He doesn’t look bothered in the slightest, “it’s a good excuse to get a new one, I hate green.” You peer over the contents in the pages, “that’s a lie, everyone knows science is green.” Peter laughs, he nods like he’s saying ‘you got me there.’ “Doesn’t mean I like it though.”

Looking down at the notebook, you peer up at Peter. He looks soft, the sleeves of his zip up hoodie covered his thumbs, he has sweater paws. His hair framed his face nicely, his cheeks have a natural pink hue, it’s like he’s always sunkissed, or calming down from a laughing fit.

The sun is backlighting him perfectly, it makes his eyes look even more honey golden than they already do. You don’t know why you find him slightly cute at the moment, it makes your stomach tug and not in a good way. The last time you thought someone was cute you got burned, and you’ve always had a disdain for Peter.

Peter was the worst kind of rebound to have because you can’t decide who’d get more hurt from it, and the thought of that makes you want to avoid him forever.

“You’re looking at me funny.”

You are, it’s because you’re noticing him for the first time, at least since you were eight. Suddenly you can remember why you cut him out when you were a kid.

“I had a crush on you when we were younger. I think that’s why I stopped being your friend.”

Your confession made Peter’s eyes widen, he looks to the ground and hides his smile. When he picks his head back up he looks to the side, his cheeks a bit more flushed than normal. “That’s cute.”

It was. It was innocent and juvenile, his small response made you laugh. “Yeah, it really was.” You shouldn’t entertain it any further, but you can’t stop. Something about seeing his blush makes you want to keep going, “Wanna know when it started?” He looks curious, “sure.”

You go quiet for a minute, you haven’t thought about it in years. The moment it clicked you were freaked out, the first time you liked a boy and he was your best friend. You went from wanting to play in dirt to holding his hand. A smile spreads over your face when you watch the memory replay in your mind.

“We were at the complex playground and we were digging by that droopy tree across from the swingset, and I saw a lizard in the grass and I pointed it out to you. I told you I always wanted to hold one but they moved too fast and scared me, but you held out your arm and said ‘I got this.’” You laugh, replaying it once more.

“And you dive bombed and picked it up, and you were so fucking proud to have caught it. Then you placed it in my hand but I felt it move around and freaked out, but you held your hand over mine and said ‘don’t be scared.’”

There’s something about an eight year old Peter Parker with glasses and dirt smudged cheeks that had child you giddy.

Peter’s smiling, it’s like he’s reliving that day in his head too. “I fulfilled your lifelong dream and you fell for me.” You shrug, “maybe.” Setting his notebook on the counter you look around, you feel like you’ve said too much.

“Hey, um, thanks for the whole… unleashing my anger thing.” You're setting yourself up for a goodbye, Peter can sense it.

“Are you hungry? Wanna go get some pizza?”

No matter what was said, or thought, you still have that pinch of annoyance at him. But his brightness was what you needed today, and you hadn’t had lunch. You have a sinking feeling you’d regret it, there was something that felt like it was a bit more than friendly and it had you throwing up every wall possible.

Still, you find yourself agreeing.

“Sure. Let’s get some pizza.”

It was a stereotypical pizza place and those were the best ones. The wall is covered in pictures of random people, terrible paintings and red checkered tablecloths covered wobbly tables. They had a permanent sticky residue, your elbows peeled when you raised them up.

“I’m surprised you didn’t judge me on my hawaiian choice.” He always did, he told you it wasn’t authentic and childish.

“Hey, I’m a pizza guy, alright? Anything you put on a pizza belongs on it. I mean, I get the appeal, sweet and savory.” Your face brightens, he understands. “Exactly! And the warm pineapple just hits differently, it’s like-” Peter can read your mind, you say it at the same time. “Fries and ice cream.”

Another thing he found gross, your head tilts, it just kind of clicks with Peter. Your ex would sneer when you’d go for a dip, you begged him to try it a hundred times, you promised he’d like it but he’d tell you it was ‘fucking gross’.

“Hawaiian and pepperoni, can I get you kids anything else?” You shake your head while Peter responds for the both of you, ‘no thanks, we’re good.” Peter’s slice has a pool of grease in a slice of his pepperoni, it looks delicious. He sees you eying his choice and holds it out, “you want a bite don’t you?” Your eyes flash to your slice, “only if you take a bite of mine.” It’s only fair. “Swap with me,” you trade plates and tap slices as a cheers, humming when you take a bite Peter nods impressively.

You swap back and take a bite of yours, it’s heavenly. “I’m glad I got mine.” Peter agrees with the statement, “I’m sorry, babe, but pepperoni is superior. It’s all about keeping it simple.” You know he meant nothing by it, you know it meant it in a friendly way, you know it’s a regular pet name to use in passing, but he called you babe.

Hearing the term of affection makes your skin crawl, you swallow a lump in your throat. You want to snap at him, but instead your voice comes out soft. “Please don’t call me that.” Peter’s eyes soften, he almost tells you he didn’t mean it like that, but he knows you already understand that.

“No problem, old lady.” It took a second, but you couldn’t stop the laugh. “What did you just call me?” Peter bites his bottom lip, “well, that’s the opposite of babe, isn’t it?” It makes your smile bigger, it’s funny, if you had asked him something that simple he’d fight you on it, ask a million questions and push it until you gave up.

For the first time in a month you really can’t remember why you thought he was so great.

WEEK THREE.

Natalie Greene has her hair pulled slick back in a ponytail, a determined look and hands on her hips.

“Let’s fuck some shit up.”

Lunch with Peter had really pushed you forward, you had strayed away from him the last few days. You still listened for him nightly but avoided him in the hallway and at school, he was everything he was not, and it made you feel queasy.

It was time you removed him from your life, you started with blocking him on everything. From instagram to duolingo. Then, you piled up everything he left behind or things that reminded you of him, but you couldn’t touch your closet. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Enter Natalie Greene.

“I don’t know why it’s so hard for me, everything else was fine.” Natalie shrugs, your closet doors are open and she’s itching to start rummaging. “It’s not for me. What are we thinking, trash, donate, burn? Dare I say detonate?”

You snort, “think I could do some black magic?” Her eyes light up, “I’ll look up the dark arts right now, don’t dare me.” You sigh, “I don’t care what you do with them, I just need them out of here.” Natalie Greene understands, she’s been there too a few times. Everything that reminds you of him burns like hell. A constant reminder of what’s no longer.

It’s only five shirts and some sweatpants but it feels paralyzing. Once his clothes are gone he’s no longer, like the last year never meant anything. He cheated but you still feel like it was real for the time you had him.

“Shit, can we raincheck the disposal?” Natalie is staring at her phone in her hand, a worried line where her lips were. “Family stuff.” You tell her it’s fine and send her out in a second, staring at the bag you started to twitch.

It felt daunting- a looming presence. You almost got rid of him but couldn’t. It was five minutes of harsh breathing, then you drag it across the hall hoping Peter was home. You needed them gone.

May answered the door and you feel slightly flustered.

“Hi, May. Is Peter home?”

She welcomes you in the door, skipping over the makeshift laundry bag and giving a quick but squeezing hug. “How are you feeling?” If you had been asked that a week ago you’d fly off the handle, but this week it feels like you can breathe a bit better.

“I think I’m doing pretty okay. It helped to know he cheated, it makes me miss him sixty percent less. The other forty makes me feel pathetic.” May frowns with empathy, “my college boyfriend cheated. Betrayal and hurt is a weird feeling when mixed with love.”

You laugh, “yeah, it really is.” May clears her throat, “Peter’s in his room, he may be busy with some homework.” You thank her and move down the hallway, the plastic bag follows, half of you hopes it rips because it’s what he deserves.

You knock and wait for his response, grunting when you swing the trash bag over the threshold and let it drop. “I have an odd request for a man.” Peter seems surprised to see you for a second, then looks at the bag and back at you. He seems a bit more weary.

“Uh huh.”

“I’m getting rid of his things and Nat had to dip, wanna come with?” You follow up with a wince, “I’m sorry, this is super weird and out of place.”

Peter shrugs, “if it helps, it helps. And if you’re serious, I’ll go with you.” You take a deep breath, healing and growing isn’t always comfortable. “Fuck it, let’s donate some shit.”

You feel like you stand straighter walking out with Peter behind you, he’s carrying the dead weight and you feel accomplished. May has a raised eyebrow, you hold out your hand and settle her curiosity.

“Don’t worry, justice is about to be served.”

May grins at her nephew's soft smile, she’s seen and heard about you more in the last two weeks than she has in the last nine years. “It’s sounding a lot more like twenty percent.”

The moment things started turning south was at the donation center. You weren’t even standing super close to Peter, or radiating an aura that even suggested he was anything more than a conveniently close acquaintance. But the volunteer at the front thought differently.

“Aw, I wish more young couples came in, it always seems to brighten up the place!”

You feel like a force of wind caught you breathless, every inch of you froze on the spot. When she says couple you think of him, but you’re not a couple anymore. When she says ‘couple’ you feel your heart encapsulate with rubble, the idea of him makes you feel sick.

You don’t think you could ever love again.

Especially not with Peter, not even when he shies away with pink cheeks and tries to shrug her comment off. It’s not worth the awkwardness of announcing you’re not a couple, you both know you’re not, and she doesn’t really care if you were or not.

“We were just in the mood to donate today,” he plays it off well. You chew on your lip and watch him fill out the donation slip, it’s second nature for Peter to take care of you, it was something he mostly failed at.

Before the attendant can take the bag, Peter stops her by hovering his hand over it, he turns his neck and makes eye contact. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Your heart pounds, threatening to crack the rock.

“I’m sure.” Because, you really are.

Peter smiles, “any last words?” You try to think of something, nothing comes to mind other than a blur of frustration and confusion. Raising your hand you give it the middle finger, Peter’s laughing at your blank face, “c’mon, you know you wanna double it.” You do, so you did.

It feels freeing, you’re not healed but you don’t have a daunting weight on your shoulders anymore. A satisfied smile spreads, your hands drop for a second before Peter’s high-fiving you. You’re tucked under his arm after saying his thanks to the confused volunteer, bumping your hip against his and caged in his hold you feel safe. Safer than you’ve ever felt.

A crack in the rocks, your heart thumps wildly when he drags you opposite from where you came. “Let me buy you a hawaiian.”

Peter is pretty. You could admit it. Never out loud, but you’d admit it silently. He’s on fire tonight, keeping you laughing and talking. He’s a perfect story teller, he has a way of pulling you in. He’s charismatic and throws himself into every role, voices and body movements.

Your chin is resting on your hand while you focus on every word of his, entranced in his excitement. A lamp hanging over your mini booth makes him look a tad yellow, but his eyes shine brighter than all hell, you never knew brown eyes could suck you in for hours.

For a second your mind blips and you truly can’t remember his eye color. But you know they’re nothing like Peter’s.

You forget to react, because Peter cut himself off and waved his hand in front of his face. You blink alert, he has a very charming smile, you look at a table of older women. “You good? Felt like you were trying to look into my soul.”

You can’t stop it, it's a knee jerk reaction and the moment you say it you regret it.

“Your eyes are very pretty.” You won’t stop looking at a slice of mozzarella on a grandma’s plate. Peter hums, nodding his head like he understands, “so you weren’t trying to sacrifice me, you just got lost in my very pretty eyes.”

The crack splinters, a chunk falls off. You meet his eyes, he’s not making fun of you. You sit straighter and reach out to steal a piece of pepperoni from his slice, acting like you’re not blatantly flirting with ease.

“I just haven’t noticed them before I think.”

Peter’s quiet for a moment, his arms are crossed on the table, fingers tap on his elbows.

“Well, I’m glad you are now.” It’s a little too much, he’s not allowed to entertain you back, he could hurt you too.

You clear your throat, “I need to ask you something.” Peter stops tapping, it’s like he’s been waiting on you to say it. “Yeah, anything.”

You lean forward a little, “did you tell my mom about the party last year?” He looks slightly disappointed that was your question, “nope.” Your eyes narrow, “I’d rather us not start a friendship built on lies.”

Peter lights up, “friendship?” A displeased expression was shared, “thin ice, Parker.” He seems a bit more determined to tell the truth this time.

Peter sits up and interlocks his fingers, “I promise I didn’t tell her. Mr. Harrington did. And I know how much you like him and I thought you would stop going to see him if you knew and he’s super old so I just kinda… let you believe it was me.”

Your heart breaks free, it’s loud and pumping and it’s making you feel alive. A sense of urgency to do something to him makes you itch, you have to pull your hands to your lap. In that second, for whatever reason, all you want is to feel his skin on yours.

He’d be willing to do anything for you, even at the cost of you hating him.

“You’re the most selfless person I know and it’s kind of insufferable.” Peter rolls his eyes, “just admit you like me, god.” Your breath stutters, but you move right past it.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep talking about the petting zoo.”

Peter jumps back into character, “alright, so I’m down on-”

For the first time in weeks you slept through the night, until three am. You woke up on your own, a mental alarm had you looking out for him. After you hear the comforting chorus of movement, you hide under your pillow and go back to sleep.

Your world is falling apart. You were on the track to healing, each piece of your heart was slowly mending back together. Until news of Natalie Greene going out of town hits, you collapse to your bed with an arm over your eyes. Facetime carries her into your room.

“Why couldn’t your grandma die next month?” She nods her head, folding a tank top to drop it into her carry on. “So true, she should’ve known you were having a crisis.” You nod, “it’s so hard knowing the world doesn’t revolve around me.”

The room goes quiet as she moves around and packs. You contemplate telling her, you didn’t want a spectacle and you didn’t even know if or what you wanted from Peter. But damn if you hadn’t been thinking about it for days. You wonder if she’s picked up on the hints, you’d been relying on her less and less.

“Are you going to hang with Peter while I’m gone?” Your mind flashes to him, the past few nights he’d sent you a few videos that he thought you’d like. And you did, even if he didn’t know you as deeply as he has until recently, he still makes you feel seen.

He would send you things he found funny.

Peter sends you things he knows you’d find funny.

“Maybe. He buys me pizza so he’s cool to have around, I guess.” Natalie Greene snorts, “and I’m sure he makes fun of your pineapple.” It feels like your heart shines, “no, actually. He gets it.” Your eyes flash to the top of the screen, a text from Peter pops up, you waste no time hitting the notification.

‘Wanna come have some brownie cookies?’

You bite your lip, rising from your bed you shuffle into your slippers. “Hey, Nat, I gotta go. I’m really sorry about your grandma.” She rolls her eyes, “she was super old and I didn’t really know her, it’ll be cool to see my cousins though.”

“Have fun on the trip!”

A wicked grin, “have fun with Peter.” You don’t even fight her on it, she knew exactly what you were doing.

Your knuckles tapped on the door, it was opened in seconds. Peter had a glow like you’ve never noticed, he only got more and more pretty. A smile stretched across his face, you love how it always meets his eyes.

“Hi.”

Your slippers softly scrape the wood floors when you enter, “hi.” Peter gestures you towards the kitchen, and for whatever reason, you reach behind you and tug him along.

“Okay, okay, so what did she say?”

Your legs swing on the counter, mumbling between mouthfuls of the dessert fusion you’re fully invested in Peter’s story. He had caught Mrs. Hopkins and the chef that lives on floor two in an argument, and it turns out Mrs. Hopkins was the complex's porch pirate.

Peter swallows his own bite, “she asked me to back her up! And I was all like, ‘hell no, you stole my aunt’s juicer.’” You gasp, “not May’s juicer.” Peter holds a finger up, ‘nah, I caught her red handed. She was so pissed and on the spot she snapped at me like, ‘it wasn’t a juicer, it was a butter dish.”

You slap a hand over your mouth, “oh no.” Peter’s eyebrows raise, turning his back to grab a glass of milk. “I wish you could’ve seen the look on her face when she realized she told on herself, it was awesome. She was spewing shit all the way to the elevator.”

Finishing your treat your tongue feels thick, holding out a hand in a silent request for a swig of his milk. Peter looks between your hand and his glass, he looks weary.

“Are you sure you wanna drink after me? I figured you’d be scared of my cooties.” You motion for the cup, he passes it over and you wrap your palms around the glass.

“Oh, you absolutely have boy cooties, they just become non-contagious at puberty.” Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, “I think I forgot that lesson, what else can I expect from puberty?” You laugh on a gulp of milk, “trust me, Parker, puberty hit you like a bus.

He steps closer, you set the glass down next to you.

“Is that a good thing?”

You look over his face, he’s got a defined bone structure but soft features. A boyish charm coats over him, it’s just enough of a hint of innocence you beg he never loses it. It’s a no brainer, he was attractive, your eyes flash to his mouth, it’s a wild instinct and you try your best to shake it off.

“Yes. I’d say puberty was very kind to you.” Peter takes another step, “how so?” Pretending to think about it, like you weren’t already, you take a second to respond. You don’t notice him taking another step.

“Well, you have a nice jawline.” Peter tilts his head slightly, “is that all?” You’re not sure what it is, but there’s an undertone and it fills you with excitement.

“And very nice curls.”

“I don’t think that has anything to do with puberty.” You suppose he’s right, “you’re taller than me now.” You had an inch on him when you were kids. Peter’s suddenly right in front of you, “especially now.” He has to look down at you while you blink up at him from the counter, “yeah, you’re like a giant.”

Your mind betrays you, his lips are unnaturally pink, they look like they’re the right amount chapped. “Anything else?” You’re struggling, all you can think about is him but you can’t follow a train of thought.

“You smell really good,” you take a deep breath when his hands rest on either side of you, he’s caging you in and everything builds with anticipation, you fight the urge to pull him in. “You’re just complimenting me now.”

You shake your head, “do you know how many teenage boys smell bad?” It’s not your fault, he’s so close his scent has invaded your senses, you wanted to inhale him until you turned blue.

“One more.” You try to think, he’s making it very hard. It takes a second but you have one, proud to have pulled it from the chamber, a sly grin takes place.

“You-” Lips on yours, it happened so fast you couldn’t catch up. Mind spinning when you realize Peter Parker was kissing you, you know you should shove him off, but it feels right. It’s over as quick as it started.

You just got out of a relationship, one that tugged you to one of the lowest points of your life so far. It’s not lost on you when you weren’t the one to pull away, but you’re the first one to comment on it.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” You weren’t mad, you were warning him, he doesn’t know what lies ahead.

“But I really wanted to.” His eyes keep looking you over, was he expecting you to scream?

It’s dangerous territory, your voice feather soft when it comes out. “And do you want to again?” Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea.

It felt like the air went still in the room, everything slowly melted into the background until it was only you and him. The quiet hum of the air conditioner faded into silence, the scene music from a movie on the tv in the room behind you diluted to nothing.

It was just you and Peter, and he was getting closer. It was achingly slow, you know what he’s doing, he’s giving you a chance to escape. Bail before it became too real, but has he thought about the possibility of you leaning closer?

What are you doing?

His lips hovered over yours, when you closed your eyes he took it as permission.

You’d always heard of the fireworks, that kisses are like explosions of happiness. And they were, and you loved them, but there were no fireworks. At least with him.

With Peter, your entire sky brightened. Little prickles of electricity dolly chained up your spine, an explosion of color in your mind. It made you starving and whole in one touch, his body made to fit against yours perfect.

You wonder if he has the same feeling, you think he does when his hand cups your face, the other one tugs your hip so you fit him better. It’s bold of you, but when you feel that entranced you don’t know how to stop. Your tongue swipes on his bottom lip, it’s very clear he doesn’t know what to do.

You pull away for air, Peter’s pupils blow wide before looking at the floor. His head feels like it’s spinning, the girl he’s always wanted, wants him right back. Peter feels very aware of his surroundings, how hard his heart is pounding, how you’re holding him to you, how you’re tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, how you’re leaning back in, how he’s holding you into him.

You take the lead, it’s slow but you build his confidence, he’s a quick learner.

In minutes you’re nearly laid back on the kitchen counter, you’re about to suggest he takes it to his bedroom, but the thought of breaking away from his kiss keeps you stationary. Peter’s locked to you too, your legs hooked around his waist, keeping him as close as he could get.

All you can think is Peter, Peter, Peter.

He claims he doesn’t know much, but it feels like he’s intune with your body. Peter matches you perfectly, you never knew a makeout session could bring so much tension. A moan pulls from the back of your throat when his thumb peeks under the cotton of your shirt.

Peter breaks the kiss, little huffs of air billow from your mouth while he kisses down the side of your neck. When he finds the spot that makes you squirm he nibbles gently, a hand tangled at the back of his hair lets him know he’s doing something right.

Especially when you arch into his touch as his hand confidently slides under your shirt, digging his fingers into the plush skin over your ribcage. “Fuck, Peter,” it’s breathy and eggs him on, he wants to hear nothing but that for the rest of his life.

Caught up in the moment neither of you heard the door, or noticed the third person in the room, until shock spewed from their mouth.

“Oh, wow!”

Peter rips himself away, his instinct is to hide your face into his chest. You’re grateful, it saves the embarrassment of looking his aunt in the eye after she watched you fold under his hands. Peter’s mind is racing, his only priority was keeping you comfortable.

Fuck, he kisses so sweet. Shut up!

“Hey, May. Get anything good at the farmers market?”

Blatant ignorance and casual conversation was the route he took, and it seemed to have worked. Cloth bags hit the counter, you stay hidden, Peter’s hand pressed into the back of your head. He’s sturdy, your head lays perfect on his sternum, it was made for you. No, stop.

“Yes! I got more of that european bread we really liked.” As much as you would like to be ignored, May wouldn’t let you. A pat on your knee sent your arms curling around Peter’s waist, he tried his best to settle the clench of his heart.

Fits perfect, fits perfect, fits-

“You’d love it, it’s roasted garlic, real pieces too!”

It may be rude to ignore the owner of a home, but you weren’t looking at her for another ten lightyears. At least you give a muffled response into Peter’s chest, “sounds good.” May giggles a little, you hear the fridge open and rustling.

“Are you gonna hide from me forever?”

If Peter could play pretend, so could you. You pushed him away softly, “Peter made brownie cookies.” May raises an eyebrow, directing her attention towards her nephew. “Ever since that first plate of cookies Peter’s been baking like it’s his job.”

He’s perfect.

“You made the cookies?” Peter had told you May did, you’re sure of it. He nods quickly, “I figured if I told you, you’d think they were poisoned.”

You want his touch, you want him pressed into you again. This has to stop.

It’s dramatic, but you’ll bite. “Smart boy.” Peter has a gleam in his eye, “I really am.”

May knows when she’s third wheeling, she makes an excuse to move to the living room, Peter nods towards his room. You accept his hand down and look behind you at the door. He was frustratingly magnetic, you wanted to do nothing more than fall into bed and stay forever attached to his lips.

It was a new rush of feelings, most of them new and almost dangerous. You wanted to explore and learn and take some of Natalie Greene’s advice and grow. But more than wanting, you knew you had to leave.

You were still healing, and if it hurt this bad with him, where nothing felt like this, you can’t imagine the burn this could leave.

“I should go,” you can’t look him in the eye, he’d suck you back in. You’d never be able to leave, you have to leave.

“Is this because of May? Cause we can leave and..” You shake your head fast and take a step back, he’s too kind, too understanding, too new and thrilling and, and… loving. You don’t deserve him or what he brings, you can’t bear the imagination of what his heartbreak would feel like.

“No, not May.” There was only one thing that kept you from him before, you were still pulling the same childish tricks. Something about Peter Parker caused you irrational terror.

“I told you, you shouldn’t have done that.”

Peter tries to look at you, you take another step back. “You asked if I wanted to do it again.” He can’t use logic, it won’t work here. “That didn’t mean do it again.”

“You sure? Cause it really seemed like you wanted me to do it again.” You feel choked for air, he’s backing you into a corner.

“You understood wrong. I need to leave.” Your footsteps paused when Peter called out your name, a timid look over your shoulder made him continue.

“Don’t do this. I know what you’re doing, and it doesn’t end well for either of us. We’re not eight anymore.” Your game was called, you didn’t want to do this, you don’t want to be mean. Why did he have to make you do this to him?

“Desperation isn’t a good look on you.”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest, his tongue swipes over his top teeth before poking out his cheek. “Of course it isn’t.” You’re very aware that he expected this to happen, he expected you to push him away and close the gates. If he did, then he shouldn’t have kissed you. He brought this on himself.

“Nothing is.” What’s a final blow if only to tie the bow on no future contact? Peter took a deep breath and gives you the escape you were looking for, “I’ll see you later.” You shake your head, “no, you won’t.”

The hallway is cold and so is your heart. Removing Peter as a potential threat didn’t do much, somehow you think it feels worse than what it would be like to love and then lose him.

Too bad he wasn’t worth the risk.

You knew dinner was going to be awkward. You did your best to get out of it but it was deemed impossible, you were about to gouge your eyes out of your head just for a solid excuse. But your mom said that you weren’t allowed to do that. So you didn’t.

Peter on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life. Especially when May shot you a wink across the table when he reached over your plate. You threatened your eye with a fork, your mom gave you a nasty glare.

“Butter, please?”

You cross your arms and scoff, “get it yourself, penis.” Your mom gasped out your name, appalled you would say something like that. She told you to look him in the eye and apologize, using his real name. Peter showed no reaction, chewing on a buttered biscuit.

“I’m sorry for calling you a penis, Peter.” It was the least authentic apology he’s ever heard.

“Aw, let them be kids, they’re in love.”

Your knife hits your plate so hard it chips, Peter chokes on his bite, crumbs fall from his mouth as he tries to speak as fast as he can. “No, no, May… no.”

You feel the walls closing in, the more you run from it, the more it’s announced. You can’t win. It’s brutal silence on your end, you’re shutting down into a shell of a human.

“Oh? I thought after-”

Peter has your back. “After we made pizza? It was one time, May. It wasn’t like I planned it, it just happened. We were hanging out and I just really wanted pizza and I didn’t really stop to think if she wanted pizza, I just made it.”

May plays right along, and asks you directly. “Does that mean you’re not coming over for pizza anymore?” Does that mean you’re not dating my nephew anymore?

Peter already knows the answer, he just wonders if it’s different if his aunt asks.

“The last pizza I had burned to a crisp in the oven and it tasted really, really bad. And if that was a pizza I thought I loved, I can’t imagine how bad it would’ve been if it was my favorite.”

Your mother has never seen you so passionate about pizza. May quirks an eyebrow, she looks at Peter while she asks.

“You don’t trust Peter in the kitchen?”

You’re doing your best to ignore Peter’s eyes on the side of your face, you’re trying to pretend you’re not being vulnerable.

“He’s the only person who could burn it all down.”

May clicks her tongue, she’s more focused on cutting up her dinner. “For what it’s worth, as Peter’s aunt, he’s a great chef. He takes his time in the kitchen, he doesn’t mind waiting for the yeast to bloom. Because when the dough is ready, he’s really gentle at scooping it up and helping it turn into whatever it needs to be.”

You turn to Peter, he gives a shy smile. “You’re not scared of burning yourself?”

A shrug, “It’s a precaution you take each time you cook, but from what I’ve learned, burns heal.”

“Scars don’t.”

Peter tilts his head, “they fade over time, don’t they?”

May speaks up, she’s looking right at you. It goes past the depth of high school love, it goes to the deepest mark one could leave on a heart. A lover lost too soon.

“They do.”

WEEK FOUR

Peter Parker has been on your mind for four days, (and nights,) straight. Each morning you wake at 3:02 and hear his muffled metronome. You’ve gotten avoiding him down to a T. The first morning you woke up early to watch him leave, then planned a ten minute window in case he was running late one day, and left around that.

You’ve been successful so far. But there was an underlying tug that wanted to be caught, you wanted him to hold you close to him and tell you that he wasn’t going anywhere and nothing safe is worth the risk.

Is that why you let yourself be caught by him this morning?

“Good morning,” it was shot over his shoulder while he locked the door. You grumbled out to him, Peter doesn’t mind you didn’t use words, you were directing expression towards him and that’s enough. “Wanna walk together?”

The idea sends flutters to the middle of your stomach, a brief image of his hand in yours while your hip bumps against his every so often and you laugh at whatever he tells you takes over your mind. “If you want to walk near me while we go to the same location, that’s on you.”

Peter’s hot on your heels down the steps, “that’s a total yes.” You ignore him and try to subtly shut the main door on him, it doesn’t work. “How have you been?” Walking faster, you hope he catches the hint. Peter matches pace perfectly- damn him and his puberty bus and his big strides.

“Personally, I have been mourning the loss of my favorite neighbor coming over.” Peter blinks at the side of your face while carrying a grin. “I mean you, by the way. In case you needed that hint.”

“Got it. Thanks.” You know you need to pick a side, but something in you won’t let you ignore him.

“Welcome. You know, if you’re free, you’re invited for dinner tonight.” You pout sarcastically, “tell May I’ll miss her presence.” Peter bumps your arm, you feel like dropping to your knees. “She keeps asking about you, I’m running out of excuses.”

You scoff, “excuse what? You can tell her the truth, penis.” Peter almost loses you when you swerve around a stranger’s shoulder, in one second he’s next to you again. “And what would the truth be?”

“You pushed yourself onto me,” you stare at Peter in shock when your wrist was grabbed tightly, you came to a stop on the sidewalk with him. He maneuvered to stand in front of you, noticing every inch he had on you; it seemed like his playful mood vanished.

“Hey, I was just messing with you, okay? I thought you just didn’t want to talk about it, but pushing myself on you is the last thing I want you to think I did. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m really sorry.”

Your features softened, your words sent him into a shame spiral. It was annoying how upset he looked with himself, even if you had to swear him off forever, you didn’t want him to think he sexually harassed you.

“I was kidding, Peter. I don’t think you pushed yourself onto me, you gave me the option to back out and I pulled you in. I’d just rather never speak or think about it ever again.”

A weary smile, “that bad, huh?” You pulled your coat tighter around your chest, the cold making the tip of your nose numb. “Quite the opposite, really.” Before you could fall into temptation and kiss him in the middle of the city, you pulled away to keep heading towards school.

“Can I ask what that means?” You nod, “sure.” You offer up no more explanation.

“Well?” You look at him for a second, “oh, sorry. You can ask all you want, doesn’t mean I’ll tell you.”

“You’re gonna inflate my ego, you’re telling me it was so good you can’t put it into words.”

You give him a side eye, “I wasn’t aware there would be so much talking when I allowed you to walk next to me.”

“That’s not denial…” His cadence was sing-songy.

“You’re in denial.”

Peter shook his head confidently, “I’m not in denial, I am very okay with the fact I like you.”

You came to a halt. He’s not allowed to feel this way, he doesn’t know what it could bring. Has he not seen what love can do to a person? Has he not watched you crumble into a thousand pieces over and over throughout the weeks?

And why did his confession turn every piece of rubble into stained glass?

Peter’s not allowed to like you because reciprocation leads to temptation which bleeds into dating where it comes to a crashing end in heartbreak.

You tried to put on a serious face, but you know Peter sees the mask. “Don’t.” Pointing a finger at his chest, “don’t say that, don’t think that, and sure as shit don’t act on it.”

Peter must think you’re joking because he pushes your hand down before lightly laughing. “Don’t act on it? I already did.” Is that what he did? Did he plan that moment? You thought it was a spur of the moment thing, but maybe he’s been planning it for weeks.

How long has he liked you?

It doesn’t matter. You’ll be the adult and end it before it can start, he doesn’t know what this can do to a person. You can do it nicely, or at least try. Maybe he’d find it more sincere if it comes from the heart.

“Peter, have you ever had your heart broken? Like, really broken? Because I wouldn’t put that on my worst enemy. It’s a type of emotional pain that turns physical, I mean, have you ever been so heartbroken you throw up? Have you ever been so sad you don’t eat for days? Have you ever cried so hard you almost fainted? It’s shit, Peter.”

“But was it worth it?”

Did he not hear anything you just said? “What does that mean?”

Peter adjusts the strap of his backpack, “you loved him, right?” You don’t need to give an answer, he already knows it. “Do you regret it? Even with the heartbreak, did that undo all the good that came out of it all?”

You lick your bottom lip, it’s been a circulating thought. Love opened up doors you didn’t know were closed, in the end it was a beautiful tragedy. But that’s the worst part, with Peter you don’t know what it would feel like. You’ve only had a glimpse and it tells you that it’s something that’s going to change you forever.

If Peter leaves, if Peter cheats, it’ll kill you, it’d be nothing like when he did it and you can’t take the gamble.

It was worth it with him, he made you grow. With Peter you’d take ten steps back and never be the same.

“There isn’t always a silver lining, Peter.” You refuse to answer.

“So, what, you’re never going to fall in love again?” Peter’s matching your pace again, you can’t wait until you’re in the four safe walls of Midtown.

“No, I just can’t fall in love with you.”

“Can’t is a funny word choice.”

“Won’t.” You exhale sharply, “I won’t fall in love with you.”

Peter has no interest in your claim, “it’d be easier if you just said you didn’t like me, but you’re not.”

You don’t have to answer, you can choose to ignore him entirely and you’ll be doing just that.

“I don’t like this conversation anymore and I’m ending it.” It works, only for twenty seconds, but it worked until Peter thinks he has a brilliant idea.

“Break up with me.”

Your steps slow, his did the same. Peter’s hands were tucked in his jacket pockets, the urge to kiss him breathless unmeasurable. You fight past it, “huh?”

“You said I don’t know real heartache, so I want you to break up with me. Right here.” He’s entirely way too amused for you, even the idea makes you feel sick.

“I’m not going to break up with you, Peter. I can’t get another tardy slip.” You keep walking, Peter hopped to keep up. “Ten seconds, just end it.”

“No.”

“C’mon, it’ll be easy. Dump me and break my heart.”

“We’re not dating. I can’t dump you, even if I wanted to.” What happened to ending the conversation?

You hear the smirk when he speaks. “If.”

“I’m not playing your word games, Peter.” Because you’re not.

A laugh, “then break up with me.”

You thought he was supposed to be smart. How has he not gotten any of this, does he think it’s a joke, does he think you’re playing? Peter has no idea what this means, but you do.

Tugging at his elbow, you stop him in his tracks. Staring into his eyes and daring yourself not to get lost, you try to make things extremely clear. “I can’t break up with you, Peter. I barely made it through him. I wouldn’t know how to handle losing you. You’d hurt me too bad and I can’t take that risk.”

Peter’s voice is soft when he answers, you want to close your eyes and have it carry you to heaven. “I can’t break up with you either. You’d be able to hurt me just as bad.” It takes you from your trance, “you would. Because I’m a bad girlfriend. If I wasn’t he wouldn’t have replaced me before he could end it.”

Peter’s eyebrows pull together, you stuff your hands into your coat pockets to keep from smoothing them out. “Hey, woah, let’s pause there. You did nothing wrong. Even if you were a bad girlfriend, and trust me, you weren’t, that would never justify him doing that to you. Nothing could.”

It’s nice of him, but he doesn’t know that. “We didn’t talk, you don’t know I wasn’t a bad girlfriend.” Peter scoffs, like the idea of you calling yourself a bad girlfriend offends him personally. “He made you cry all the time,” the words followed by your name. “Bad girlfriends don’t cry, bad boyfriends make their good girlfriends cry.”

Peter heard you. Every time you cried, every time you felt unloved, every time you sobbed out an ‘I’m sorry’ for something you didn’t know you did. He listened, Peter listened like you did each night. How did you never notice the universal gimmick?

If you think back, most of the bad moments were at the hands of him. And for Peter to notice when you were worlds away from his person, makes your heart wrench inside your chest. You know you already drew the line and there’s no crossing it, but it’s nice living in a moment make believe.

“You’d never be able to call me babe.” It was a shitty pet name. You never liked it.

You get flashed with a toothy grin. “That’s okay, I have a million to choose from.”

Or the obvious hang up, “May would totally hate me too, she knows I’ll take your virginity.” Peter waves you off, “we don’t know that.” You quirk an eyebrow, “we don’t?” Peter corrects himself, “she doesn’t have to know that.”

You chuckle from the back of your throat. “But she will. You wouldn’t be able to hide it. I definitely wouldn’t be able to hide it.” Peter looks down for a second, you follow his gaze, you wonder if you’re both zoned in on a black skid on the side of his shoe. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. It’s like, you just get a lot more… touchy, I guess. Nothing’s off limits anymore.”

A monotone reply, “yeah, that sounds like a total nightmare.”

It gets too real. Make believe time is over, now you have to be an adult and stick to your guns.

“It wouldn’t work between us, Peter.”

You feel sad, there’s no good answer and both of you would be left with a bruise. He wanted more than you’d let yourself give and you wanted more than you’d let yourself have. Peter was right, you could hurt him just as bad, and you’d never forgive yourself.

Peter made himself a constant, someone you could really rely on the last few weeks, and if you lose that you don’t know how you’d ever be okay again.

“If you think so.” His kind smile doesn’t meet his eyes. It’s a quiet journey the rest of the way, both of you receiving a tardy slip and parting ways in the hall without a word or glance.

Peter Parker had gotten his wish. You just broke his heart.

This was all Natalie Greene’s fault. If she wasn’t stuck states away at a funeral she would’ve held you accountable and used every means necessary to stop you from going to Peter’s.

It could also be Peter’s fault. He should’ve never kissed you like he did, he should’ve never made your heart beat with purpose and left a sear where he touched. Doesn’t he know you could never forget it?

It also didn’t help that you were drunk. Not drunk enough to be slamming into walls and slurring words, but enough to stop that part in your brain to hold you back from the things you truly wanted. Like your neighbor.

It had been three days of nothing and that wasn’t Peter’s choice. He respected your decisions too much. If you didn’t want him in your life, he wouldn’t be. Doesn’t he know that just makes you want him more?

Peter wasn’t at the party, you didn’t expect him to be, but you were a little hopeful he’d surprise you and show up. He didn’t. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t on your mind with each shot you took, or when you stopped for pizza with a group of friends, when everyone teased you for pineapple but you knew Peter wouldn’t.

You grabbed him a slice of pepperoni without thinking. Or maybe you were. It was an excuse to talk to him, to see him, to touch him. You could take it home and reheat it in the morning, or you could lean into your excuse of a few too many and knock on his door.

It’s Peter’s fault. He really shouldn’t have kissed you like that, he doesn’t understand his power.

Harsh banging. It’s over your head how late it is, you have important things to do. Like, lay over his body in his bed like you kiss down his neck, or squirm with harsh whimpers when he kisses down yours. You bet he likes to cuddle too, he never did, but Peter seems like he couldn’t get enough of you.

If you couldn’t date Peter you could use him as a rebound, right?

Faster knocking, why isn’t he answering? At your loudest, the door opens. He was sleeping, you could tell by the puffy eyes but you didn’t look at his face too long, no, Peter was in nothing but a pair of boxers.

When the fuck did he get so toned? You would’ve reached out for a light graze, but he stopped you.

“You’re so lucky May’s on overnight duty.” No, you’re lucky because he’s half naked and sleepy, you’ve never seen anyone so tempting. It feels like you’re dying and only he could save you.

You can’t help it, your palm connects with his chest, it’s there longer than a second. It’s less about pushing him aside and more about touching him, and he knows that. Peter talks at a normal volume for the hour, “what are you doing here?”

Your thumb traces his collarbones, “I brought you pizza.” Your breath skips when he turns his head to the side to check the time on the microwave in the kitchen, his jawline ultra toned.

“At one in the morning?” Peter’s amused, you don’t think he would’ve ever been so kind if you disrupted his sleep. You nod, “I was thinking of you.” You raise the small box, just as proof as you really did get him a slice.

Peter takes it with a smile. “Thanks, kid.” You don’t know why, but you really like that one.

“Can I come in?” If he thought all you wanted was to share a midnight snack, he was terribly mistaken. The door widened in response, you made sure to brush against his side, he said nothing.

Following him into the kitchen, you have a flashback. It’s one you want to reenact, maybe if you sit in the same spot he’ll catch the drift. A blue wave of light washes over him when his snack is stored for morning, he looks angelic.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this fascinated with him.

“Now I understand all the song references about refrigerator lights.” Peter looks over his shoulder, his grin makes you feel like you’re flying. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He emerges with two water bottles, cracking the lid on yours and passing it over. His rests on the counter. He doesn’t need water but you do and he’s not about to make you feel singled out.

You think it might be too late. You think you might already be falling.

“I don’t know, but I just get it.” He’s letting you do all the talking, it’s odd, you’re not used to being listened to. If Peter realizes what you’re doing, he says nothing. Maybe you just have to point it out.

You gesture to yourself, the real reason you came over finally announced.

“Do you see where I’m sitting?”

Peter nods, “I do.”

Your fingers tap on the countertop, “remember the last time I sat here?” Peter breathes deep, you wonder if he’s thinking about it right now. “I do.”

You wait. He makes no move. Where’s your kiss?

“Well? Are you gonna do it again?” You pucker for good measure, just in case there was an inkling of uncertainty on his end. You’re making it clear what you want. A faulty smile, you don’t like it one bit.

“No,” at least he sounds sorry about it. But he likes you, he told you himself, why would he deny you? Doesn’t he know how much you need this?

“Why not? If you think this is a trick, it’s not. If you want, I’ll kiss you first.” You jump down but you’re held back by a hand, he’s literally pushing you away. It’s a feeling that causes a tug, you really don’t like it.

“You’re drunk,” Peter follows the statement with your name, he’s not mean but he’s also not going to change his mind.

You scoff, buzzed would be more accurate. “I’m not drunk.”

“Drunk enough you’re allowing yourself to have this conversation.”

He has a very fair point.

“Liquid courage, kiss me?” Peter shakes his head, “you made it clear nothing would happen, so nothing is going to happen.”

You grin, “consider it practice then.” Your words make him frown, “you don’t want this.” Who is he to tell you what you do or don’t want?

“How do you know I don’t want this?”

“Because this isn’t you.”

You feel a tightness in your chest, he doesn’t get to think he knows you more than you do. “You don’t know me, Peter. You just have an idea of me.”

“You’re hurt and confused. I won’t take advantage of that, being mad at me won’t make me change my mind.”

Where was his care coming from? He didn’t care about you this much and neither should Peter. It wasn’t normal, was it? But it’s also not fair to compare Peter to him at every chance, especially because Peter only ever seems to outshine.

“Why didn't you act like this a year ago?” If he truly cares, where was it before?

“You mean when you had a boyfriend?”

Is that why he waited until now to be a friend? Did he think you’d be sad and have weak defense, making it easy for him to get first in line? “Is that what it is? You waited until I was dumped to put on this act and lay it on me while I’m all confused? How long have you had this planned out?”

Your words are like daggers, the things you’re alluding to, he would never do them. Ever.

“Don’t. I’ve always liked you but you had a boyfriend and the last thing on my mind was trying to get with you when it ended. You were so miserable, I just wanted to be a friend or something, but it changed and maybe a little piece of it was me being selfish. I made the first move, several times. I kissed you, I asked you out, I told you I liked you. And you said no. I respect your no, why don’t you?”

You could tell him the truth, tell him that he was right and his love terrified you because you haven’t felt something so raw before in your entire life. Peter wasn’t yours, or anywhere close to it. It shouldn’t be natural to feel magnetized to him.

You could tell him the truth, but you’re better at hiding behind false walls.

“I liked you better when you didn’t care about me.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

He knows you’re lying but he won’t make you admit it, no, he’ll push you into your corner of lies until you force your way out with the truth. Peter Parker will not chase you.

Would it be wrong to push him so far away he wouldn’t let you chase him too?

“You have a superiority complex. That’s why you can’t find a girlfriend, or any friend really. You think you’re better than everyone else and it’s a natural repellent.” You back up towards the door, you spit words as they come to your mind.

“I was willing to do it. I was willing to give you a shot but you ruined it for yourself. You’re going to look back on this moment and regret it.”

Peter really doesn’t care for your dramatics. It’s impressive he can one, handle it and two, make you check yourself. “Regret not taking advantage of a drunk girl? Is that what you’re insinuating?”

“No! I just meant that… I don’t know what I mean, Peter! I don’t know anything and you’re not helping in the slightest and everything about you makes me want to fucking cry or scream or, or… I don’t know.” Your voice trails, it’s the most honest you’ve been in weeks.

“I don’t know anything anymore, Peter.”

Everything you’ve ever thought about love has been wrong.

He made you feel flightless. But Peter, Peter made you feel free. Peter made you feel like you were flying at full speed, like the wind washes over your cheeks so harshly you’re in a permanent grin. You’ve never seen the world from this high up, in this much color, it’s never been so beautiful.

The flight is amazing, thinking about stopping it hurts you. How would it feel to be on the ground again, to walk around, to be without wings and treetops and colors and wind? How would it feel to be without Peter?

Would it feel like an agonizing death?

Would your wings ever be patchable again?

Questions that make you realize the closer you get to him, the harder you’ll hit the ground. You’re okay with falling, you’re able to brace yourself the best way you can. But will Peter be there to catch your landing?

It looks like he’s trying to stop himself from hugging you, it’s a good thing he is. He might be thinking you’d yell or push him away, you think you’d just cry.

Peter looks tired, and more than just because you woke him up. You wonder if it’s because he’s up late every other night, you want to ask him about the routine and why he broke it tonight. You won’t.

Your back hits the door, there was only one thing you were sure of, it had been a chain reaction since. This was Peter’s fault, he’s the one that kissed you. He started it.

“You shouldn't have kissed me, you really, really shouldn’t have. You’ve fucked this all up, penis.”

Peter’s tired of the blame. “You came here,” he ends it with your name, like he’s pleading.

It’s annoying, at least you tell yourself it is. If you can replace feelings with antonyms you’ll trick your brain and you’ll be right on track to hating him again and only seeing him as a void object.

You open the door, it’s the last time you’ll allow yourself to look at his face.

It’s Peter’s fault.

“Because you made me want to.”

WEEK FIVE.

It’s way too early for the hysteric buzz of a mosquito in your ear, yet, it still sings to you while you’re locking your front door.

“Good morning.”

You nod your head, “penis.”

And just like that, the mosquito’s squashed.

You yawn so harshly that you rub at your jaw. You’re unable to sleep and miserable. You’ve tried everything under the moon and stars, nothing worked. Staring up at the ceiling you tried to count sheep but they kept turning into the tiny freckles that dotted over Peter’s cheeks.

It wasn’t fair to keep thinking about him, you’re doing your part. You cut him out and you decided to hate him. You’re just finding out that that’s not how it works.

3:02, you hear his window.

3:04, your eyes finally get heavy.

3:07, you’re dozing off.

3:10, you’re asleep.

It wasn’t fair.

Three nights later, It’s 3:02 in the morning and a window slams shut. This time, it isn’t your neighbors. This time, it was your own. You should be scared, but you don’t feel threatened, you’re curious. You pull your head from under your pillow.

Spider-Man is at the foot of your bed, his shoulder hits the window frame when he pulls his mask off. He’s racing for air, he looks beat up, a gash crossed over his chest.

If you didn’t have as much distain as you did, you’d be slightly shocked.

“If you get blood on my carpet, I will fucking kill you.”

Peter must be dizzy, because he’s imagining you in his room.

"Seriously, if you get blood on my carpet I'll have you come over tomorrow and scrub it out with your toothbrush."

Peter tries to swallow, it's hard to do. His head feels like a brick, his hands won't stop shaking.

“Hey, pesky pete, I mean it. Get the fuck outta here.”

When he holds his eyes close, then opens them, he still sees you there. Peter looks down at his hands, turning them back and forth. They go in and out of focus, it’s dizzying, at one point he has five hands.

He says your name questioningly, it’s hard to get words off his tongue, his brain is moving too slow. “Yup, that’s me. Now get out.” Peter touches his chest, it’s beet red. His shoulder is killing him, he stumbles and slams into the wall- now you’re sitting up in bed.

“Peter, are you okay?” It’s pure worry, the act is dropped for a second, he’s not normal. He’s not answering, you think he’s trying but he can’t bring himself to speak, he’s lagging in real time. One foot hits the floor, the rest of you perched in your bed keeping an eye on his frame.

“Peter.” You need his focus on you.

He presses his hand to his wound, a last ditch effort to protect your carpet. Then, he hits the floor. You jump up, “Peter? Peter, are you okay? Peter,” he’s passed out and tore up to shreds. Every bit of you wants to scoop him into your lap and hold him tight, but instead, you get to work.

Peter flies up from the bed gasping for air, his face is cold and wet. The source is your twisted grin above him, a water glass held tightly.

“Oh, good. You’re up.”

Peter pats his chest, a blur of last night follows. He sits up in a haste, a tug in his side makes him cradle it, you both wince at the same time.

“Yeah, I tried doing the best I could, but I wasn’t sure if there was something under that.. Or how to take it off. You probably have significant damage.”

“Thanks.” His mouth is dry and his voice crackly, it sends a zing up your spine. Peter’s never felt so weak after a rough night, his head is pounding and he can feel the crunch of dried blood under his suit.

“Can I get some of that or are you still punishing me?” The only reason you give him the rest of the glass is because you like Spider-Man. He has a job to do, Peter on the other hand, could die of thirst.

“You passed out on me last night.”

Peter chugs the glass, you almost think about getting him another. “I did.”

You nod, “I had to lug you up here, you’re extremely heavy when you’re dead weight.” He almost smiles at the imagery, instead he glances down and realizes you did your best attempt at working on the gashes over his chest and arms through the spandex.

Even as he was passed out and rendered useless. You must not hate him as much as you say. It's still nice to know he's not getting special treatment because of who he is, not even Spider-Man could make you like Peter.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have excellent bedside manner?”

“Oh no, anything I could do to make it worse?”

“I think another water and some advil might kill me.”

“Perfect, coming right up.”

Peter takes another ten minutes before trying to sit up, “I should go home and shower.” Your hand gently pushes his shoulder back down, “easy, tiger. May isn’t home and you’re not about to turn your shower into a personal slip and slide.”

Before you could regret the words, “if you want a shower, you’re doing it here.” He paused under your touch, scared you made the wrong impression, your eyes widened. “Not with me or anything, I just meant so you’d have someone around.”

Peter doesn’t care how it has to get done, he wants the suit and dried blood off him. He nods his head and sits up a little slower before tugging at his neckline. You look away for a minute, unsure where to settle your eyes.

“Help me get my arm out?” Your hands pull at the suit, his arm escapes, it’s covered in small knicks. It’s a subconscious move, you gently tap the cuts with your thumb. Peering into his eyes you hold a frown.

“Does it hurt?”

Peter feels like you might kiss his marks. “Not really, it’s mostly my side.”

You rub his chest, “you got a gash right here.” It’s over his heart.

“Guess we’re twinsies now.”

If he wasn’t in pain, you’d slap his arm for the comment. Instead, you watch him carefully remove the red and blue until he’s left in his boxers. You do your best to keep your eyes on his face, Peter looks amused.

“You’re trying really hard not to look at me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Parker.” You offer a hand to pull him up, he accepts. A slow stand, his back’s more defined than his front, you almost bite your fist. Peter has the same shower as you, but you still explain how to use it. And allow him to use your products.

“Got it.” The tap is turned on, the water hits against the ceramic. You make no effort to move, instead watching for a moment. Peter’s fingers pull at the waistline of his briefs, your eyes dart right to them.

“You know, this is the part where most people leave.” It’s teasing.

“I just wanted to make sure you got in okay, it’s a high step.” It’s a quarter of the truth.

“I’ll be alright, I’ve been doing this alone for a few years.” Peter says it like it’s an inside joke, but it just makes you feel sad. He’s never had someone to be there for him, or patch up his wounds, or make sure he’s okay to shower. You wonder how many times he’s passed out on his bedroom floor with no one to drag him to bed.

“You okay?” A hand on your skin wakes you back up, clearing your mind of Peter.

You nod, it was a flash of empathy. You couldn’t imagine what it’s like for him.

“I’m just sorry you’ve had to do it all alone. It doesn’t seem fair, Spider-Man does nothing but take care of other people. He should have someone to take care of him for a change.”

It may sound like you’re insinuating, especially the way he looks at you when he responds.

“Yeah. That’d be nice.”

Seconds tick, it’s getting a little weird, mostly because you want to tackle him into the shower and race your mouth over every inch of skin. You clear your throat, “you want me to get you anything from your place?”

“Sure. Go shopping for me.”

You use the copied key May left for you several years ago when you tended to some plants while her and Peter went on vacation, and it feels weird being in their home alone. It’s too quiet, the Parker’s are expressive in everything they do, when they're not around everything lacks passion.

Peter’s bedroom is almost the same as it was the last time you were in it, the same furniture but moved around. His posters looked updated and there’s a few extra awards he’s tucked away, you frown, he should be proud of his achievements and hang them high.

A new picture of him and May from last year, you ignore the part of your brain that says he has very kissable cheeks. His closet is clean and he’s made it easy for you to search around, each drawer is dedicated to a different clothing and everything that should be hung up, is.

It’s something you hadn’t considered, but a man taking care of his laundry creates an entire new standard.

Peter handed over the control when you said to get what you wanted, that means you can dress him how you please. And wouldn’t he look yummy in sweatpants and a white shirt? You don’t see how he couldn’t, it’s the male version of a sundress.

Arms full of cotton, you tap at the bathroom door with your foot. You shout over the water, “I have your clothes.” It’s muffled but you hear him and gently push the door open, a faint outline on the shower curtain suddenly makes you shy.

“They’re right here,” patting the clothes for good measure. Peter shoots out a ‘thanks!’ and you slowly back out until you’re sitting patiently on your bed, listening closely when the tap turns off. If he goes falling, you’re busting the door down.

No struggles, at least not until he emerges. Peter’s fine, but you’re speechless and choked. There was no one you punished but yourself with the outfit, the t-shirt is tight on his arms and the sweatpants hug his hips just right.

“I feel human again, thanks, kid.” You turn on manual breathing mode and distantly nod, his biceps are stretching the cotton, you lick your lips subconsciously. “No problem.” You watch a water droplet fall from his hair to his shoulder, your eyes stay hooked in place, his arms flexed when he dried it with the towel you lended him.

“Where should I put this?” You point to your hamper, if he put it anywhere else you’d be half tempted to sniff it. “Did you tell May I was here?” You nod and finally find strength to talk to him, “yeah. I sent her a text last night, I wasn’t sure of her Spider-Man knowledge so it was a little cryptic.” You take a breath and choose honesty, no doubt he’d get a third degree.

“I think she interpreted it as us hooking up.” Another breath, “I did not correct her.”

Peter has a boyish smile spread, it squeezes your chest, you want him in your hold more than anything. “Nice.” You scream and cheer and thank your lucky stars when he sits next to you. He used your products, but he still smells like Peter. You want to stuff your nose into his shirt and breathe him in until you physically can’t.

“May knows, by the way.” You nod absentmindedly, “anyone else?” “A couple friends.” You almost make a quip like ‘wow, you have friends?’ but you really can’t find it in you to pretend to hate him anymore. Especially when he almost died on your floor and all you wanted to do was tell him that you were sorry and you were mostly in love with him.

“Can I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Do the webs come out of you?” Peter lightly laughs, it’s always the same question off the bat. “No. I make a special web fluid and I have these bracelet kind of things to shoot them out.”

“Oh. Cool.” You’re hiding the burn in your lower stomach at the thought of him over his desk creating a new form of technology. He’s so fucking smart it’s unfair, he’s too smart for his own good.

He’s grinning at you, “is it?” You can’t stop staring at his mouth, “yeah.” You’d do anything to kiss him again, the last time you truly felt alive was when his lips were on yours. “Any other questions?” There’s one. But it’s not about Spider-Man.

“Not really.” Your interest could be explored later, right now, all you needed was him. Peter finds it surprising, “I think you are the least curious person to find out about this.” You shrug, shifting your body more towards him. Peter rejected you last time but if you move like he did when he kissed you, if you move in slow for the kill, you might just get your way.

“Give me the cliff notes.” Peter starts ticking them off with his fingers, while he’s distracted you move in closer. “Bit by a radioactive spider when I was fifteen. Heightened senses plus a cool sixth sense where I can sense danger. Super strength-” You stop listening right there, your eyes are all over his build, no fucking wonder he’s a contender for worlds fittest man.

You shuffle in, your knee brushes his thigh, if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. You thank the sweatpants, the material too thick to give you away. “-Oh, and I stopped needing my glasses which is pretty cool. I think that’s pretty much it, but if you want me to expand on anyth…”

Now or never.

You push up and straddle Peter’s waist, his hands immediately hold your hips. You lean down, his grip tightens. Peter mumbles out your name, you answer with a slow kiss. Your fingers drag through his hair, curls wrap themselves around your fingers, you hold them tight. When Peter licks your bottom lip, when Peter takes control, you need to feel every bit of him.

Your hands fall down his neck and over his shoulders, then they fall to his arms, your nails lightly drag up the skin. A hum from Peter, your lower stomach clenches, you answer with a roll of your hips, he sighs into your mouth. You drag your palms over his chest, his heart is at the same pace as yours.

You break the kiss, both of you breathing fast, it doesn’t last. You kiss over his jawline, you can’t hold it in, you can’t fucking stop yourself. “You’re so fucking hot,” wet marks are dotted down his neck. “I wanna take you right here, I wanna make you feel so good.” Another grind, this time, Peter moves with you, it pulls a moan from the back of your throat. The favor returned with a hickey at the bottom of his neck, it sent him falling into your hold.

You’re kissing anywhere you can reach, “you gotta stop,” it comes out in a puff. “You’re killing me here.” Too bad, not so sad, you’re latched onto his mouth again, this time, you tug at the bottom of his shirt, it takes three times before you realize he’s not catching the hint and you pull it up yourself.

You study him when it goes flying, his eyes are more pupil than brown, his lips pouty and pulling a red hue. “Lay back,” he does, you lean over him, you’re marking up his collarbones while his hand has a fistful of your hair. Then… the kisses get lower, you're grazing over his chest, delicate brushes across the semi-healed cuts, you must’ve blocked out the advanced healing perk.

Your hand trails over his side, you soak in the grooves and muscle, your fingers brushing against the waistband of his sweatpants. Peter’s breathing hitches, you keep teasing, then bring your lower body into play. Bumps and grinds have Peter panting in your mouth, you pull back, even as he’s heaving for air, Peter’s trying to follow your kiss.

Your fingers slip further under the elastic, holding his gaze when you tell him about your intentions. “I wanna suck you off.”

There’s a pause, then he sits up on his elbows.

“Does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?” Does it? You don’t think so. You just want him, you want his mouth and his hands and his body intertwined with yours. But to fall into him and have him see all your worst parts, to have him hold your heart between his hands and trust he’d take care of it is too much.

“No.”

He’s sad. It’s not just something you think, it’s something you know. Your heart tumbles with his face. You want to hug him, you try, but he tossed you off his lap like nothing.

“May told me to get groceries today, so I should probably head out.” You swallow tightly, you’re not liking how this is sounding. “Are you mad at me?” You feel nothing but shame at his sigh, it’s debilitating when you hear his cutthroat tone. “I’m not a fucking rebound.” But he wanted to be. He wanted this. He wanted you.

Peter doesn’t use the f word, not ever.

“Whether I’m your girlfriend or sucking your dick, you’d still be a rebound.” Silence rings around the room. Peter’s voice is tight when he answers you.

“Is that all you think of me? Just a rebound?”

You don’t know how to be honest with him. You never have. “Would I be wrong?”

“Very.” It’s clipped. You’ve never heard Peter with an edge and you don’t like it. You really don’t like being on the other side of his frustration. He’s only ever been soft and kind with you, you can’t handle any more change in your life. You need Peter to keep being Peter.

You were so scared of losing him you went and filled his head up with words of affirmation, used your mouth on him, then turned around and shut him down. If this is only a fraction of how it stings when Peter’s upset you don’t know if you could handle more. You’ve never felt Peter’s cold shoulder before and it hurts.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” It’s bullshit, Peter can sense it too. “You did.” You chew on your bottom lip, “I did, but not like that.” Peter seems taller than normal when he’s standing over you, you can’t look him in the face, it’s nothing but being mortified. You really put your foot in your mouth.

“Do you even like me or are you just horny?” You can’t allow yourself to answer him.

“I’m an idiot.” Your face turns in, Peter’s laughing at himself. “I’m such an idiot. I really thought you liked me. I thought you were trying to fight it but no, that was just me daydreaming.” You’re looking up at him but he’s already standing at the door with his shirt on and suit tucked under his arm.

“You don’t like me. You never did and now I’m trying to make pieces fit where they don’t.” He’s staring right into your eyes, he says it louder, he’s saying it for himself. “I’m not a rebound.”

“You’ve never been properly loved and it shows.”

And that’s the most brutal thing he could’ve ever said to you. Your lower lip trembles with the tears pricking at your eyes, he started it and you can’t stop it.

“I fucking hate you. I hate you so fucking much, Peter.”

No surprises there. “Yeah, I know.” He sounds just as defeated.

When he leaves you cry harder for Peter than you ever did him, and that says something. But you’re not listening.

WEEK SIX.

You finally broke down and told everything to Natalie Greene. She held you in her arms while you cried about losing what you could’ve had. “I’m sure he’ll come around babe, he likes you a lot.” You shake your head, “not anymore. He hasn’t answered any of my texts in three days.”

You can at least give yourself the benefit of trying to do damage control. He wouldn’t let you. You’d sent a flurry of texts, each one more apologetic than the next, begging him for a chance to see you but he refused.

You think you broke him.

“Have you tried talking to him? In person?” You shake your head, he doesn’t want to talk to you. You blew everything up and for the first time you really hate it. Two weeks ago you were begging for this but now you just feel terrible.

“Nat, this is nothing like what I had with him and I don’t know what that means.” Your friend hugged you close, “it means you love him more than you ever did him.” You swallow hard, you knew the truth but it was different hearing it.

It doesn’t matter anymore. You ruined it and Peter won’t talk to you anymore.

“You should’ve seen the look on his face, Nat. He was fucking crushed. It’s like…” You take in a sharp breath, you’ve been beating yourself up over it since he walked out. “It’s like I used him.” Natalie Greene doesn’t bullshit but she’s still soft as ever with her response, it’s purred out while her acrylics scratch your back. “You did.”

She’s your best friend. She should be on your side. “But I didn’t! I just-”

“Yeah, you did. You knew how he felt about you and you said no so he stopped trying. Then you showed up drunk and threw yourself at him, he said no and you got all butthurt. Then he comes over and somehow passes out on your floor and you offer him a blowjob.”

Well, when she puts it like that…

“Of course he’s going to think you flipped your script, you’re the one who kept pushing after you told him no.” Peter’s words echo in your mind, ‘I respect your no, so why don’t you?’ Because you can’t allow yourself to have him, that’s why. But… you already do, don’t you? Or, you did.

“He’s gonna wreck me, Nat. He already is.”

“Because you’re fighting it. I get it, babe, I’ve been where you are a dozen times. But you don’t get over heartbreak by hiding from love. I know it’s Peter Parker and he’s been your enemy since you were eight, but no matter how fast you try to run, he’s right there matching your stride.”

You sniff into her arm, she smells like lavender and it makes you snuggle further. “I think I’ve always liked him.” You could finally admit it. Natalie’s been there for months, years possibly. “I know. You always talk about him.”

You scrunch your eyebrows, “no I don’t.” Natalie thinks you must’ve said a funny joke because she’s laughing like it. “Yeah you do. Sure, it might have been mean things but if you truly hate someone you don’t notice everything they do.”

You noticed everything about Peter and made sure to fill Natalie Greene in on the gossip.

Like when he cut his hair way too short in middle school and his curls disappeared for months.

When he slipped in mashed potatoes in the cafeteria and fumbled until he could steady himself.

When his cheeks flamed pink because he forgot to silence his phone during a test and the Game of Thrones theme song blasted through the room as he awkwardly tried to silence the call.

Then there’s the time he stuttered when giving an answer in biology because Lindsey Snipes was twirling her hair at him. A small tug in your stomach, the answer suddenly clear to why you’ve always hated her too.

And when he bumped a friend's coke all over his notebook and he just watched with an open mouth while all his hard work was ruined.

When he stumbled up the steps.

When he hit his head with his locker.

When he stepped on his glasses.

When he was tackled in flag football.

When he tripped over his shoelace.

When he got glue in his hair.

When he winced while dissecting a frog.

When he cracked his phone because he dropped it and a guy on the football team kicked it clear across the cafeteria while he laughed. That one didn’t make you laugh. That one made you so angry you made a point to tell Kristina, said player's girlfriend, so she could give him a well deserved tongue lashing. And not the good kind.

When he fell asleep at the library and had a red mark on his cheek to prove it.

When he spit milk everywhere because the one he grabbed was expired.

When, no matter what, each time you met his eyes he’d send you a smile. And how each time there was something that made you want to give it back.

“Natalie,” you can hear it in your voice. It’s dangerous. It’s terrifying.

It’s worth it.

“I think I’m in love with Peter Parker.”

Natalie Greene and you had carefully conducted Operation: Get Peter Back.

Step one: Tell him, (IN PERSON) how you feel.

Step two: See above.

There were no other steps. Natalie Greene told you that’s all you could do.

One day later you knocked at his door before you could lose the small amount of courage you had, it’s soft enough you hope it’s unnoticeable, you could quit and say you tried. Your heartbeat’s in the bottom of your throat, your palms itch as you rub them over your shirt.

A smidge of relief, no one heard you. You’re about to quietly escape, May doesn’t let you off that easily. She’s surprised when your name comes from her mouth, you wonder how much she knows. “Hi, May. Is Peter home?” She’s got a weak poker face, her eyes dart to the side of the door before she’s smiling sweetly.

“Sorry, honey. He’s out with some friends.” You know he’s right behind the wood. You speak up, you want to be sure he hears you too. “Can I leave you with a message?” May stands straighter, she wasn’t expecting this. “Of course.”

“Can you tell him I’m sorry? And that I’ve been way too selfish and mean and a complete and utter fucking bitch to him for no good reason for nine years? Can you tell him that he’s the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this and that I really want to say it to his face?”

May ignores the colorful language and you’re thankful for it. Her eyes trail to the side again, she smiles softly. “I’ll let him know.” There’s no need, he already knows and you both know it. His answer lies in the fact that he’s allowing May to keep up the charade. You don’t know if Peter is bad at forgiveness or just that you don’t deserve it.

“Thanks, May.” You watch the door slowly close, when there's just a crack left you stop it with a hand. “He’s… He’s okay, right?” Your heart thumped slowly, you’re reading her face like it’s your job, you need to know he’s okay.

A tight nod. “He’s okay.” You can breathe a little better. “Good.”

You stare at his door for another two minutes after it shuts.

Is this an asshole move? Yes.

Is this worse than what you’ve already done? Possibly.

Peter still wasn’t talking to you and you only had one card to pull. He was home, but he wasn’t answering your texts. You think it’s time to fight fire with fire. You’re standing by his apartment door, and loudly talk into your phone. No one’s on the other side, but he doesn’t know that.

“Hello? Yes, I’m looking for J. Jonah Jameson?” Your eyes twitch to his door, nothing. You speak a little louder. “I understand he’s busy. Well I just… Uh huh, right, I understand, yes ma’am. Is he interested in Spider-Man’s identity?”

You hear something drop inside his apartment.

“Yeah, I know who Spider-Man is.” Peter swings the door open, your phone is ripped from your hand. He glares down at the screen, you’re not connected to anyone. “That’s a low move.” You lightly shrug, “did you expect anything more than that?”

A scoff, “with you? No.” Your lips twitch, you have to fight the frown. You catch his arm when he turns around, there’s no trying, he’s an unstoppable force, you’re moving with him. “I’m sorry! Peter, please! I’m sorry, I am so so sorry and I need you, okay? I need you to not be mad at me.”

Was that honesty? Were you actually being honest with him? Your shoes squeak when he stops pulling you, you’re looking at him desperately searching his face for emotion. There is none. “You’re not a rebound. Not at all. I should’ve never called you one.”

There’s a lot you’ve done to Peter you never should’ve done. Maybe it’s time you start owning up to it.

“I should’ve never said you were a rebound, I shouldn’t have kissed you, I shouldn’t have shown up here drunk, I shouldn’t have kept coming back for more after I told you no. I shouldn’t have ignored you for nine years, I shouldn’t have shut you out when I was eight, I shouldn’t have hurt you.”

Peter’s not saying anything and you don’t mind. You need to say this, you need him to know.

“I shouldn’t have hurt you. I meant what I told May. You’re the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this. You’re Peter. You’re nice, you’re warming, you’re always positive and you buy me pizza without making fun of me and you sign off on donation slips and you let me rip your notebooks apart and you bake me things.”

You blink through your tears. “You were there when I really needed you and you are anything but a fucking rebound to me.” Your chest feels tight, “you’re so good to me, even when I don’t deserve it. I really don’t deserve it now but I really fucking need you, Peter. I know I went on this whole speech thing where Spider-Man needs someone but-”

“I’m here.” Relief fills you, Peter has you tucked into his chest with his arms around you. “I’m right here, okay?” It’s the selflessness that really gets you. You’ve been nothing but mean and standoffish but Peter’s hugging you because you need it.

But really, it’s because he knows he was right. You do like him. You like him more than you’re willing to admit to him yet.

“Can you catch popcorn with your mouth?”

Peter tosses a piece up and catches it with his eyes closed. You grumble and throw your own at him, he also catches that with his eyes closed.

“Okay, turn off the powers and try again.” He laughs at you, “it doesn’t work like that.” You huff, “well, make it.” Peter tosses a piece up and dodges it, it satisfies you. “Ha. Loser normy.”

“Did you just call me a normy?”

“You’re just a boring normal person, I hate to tell you, but it’s true.”

There’s been a brief pause in the actual relationship aspect of your friendship. There’s no more kissing, but you’d really like there to be. You think Peter’s starting to sweat you out and you have no issues with it. If he wants you to make the first move, you’ll do it.

But it’s all in the timing.

“Did I ever tell you that six weeks ago Nat said she’d do heroin with me?” Popcorn spills on the couch, Peter’s darting his eyes over your arms looking for track marks. “We didn’t do it! She said that if I still felt miserable after six weeks she’d do it with me.”

“Miserable? What, about the breakup?”

“Yeah,” you shove a handful of buttery styrofoam into your mouth. For the first time in weeks it doesn’t hurt to talk about. It’s not even a little sore, there’s no bitterness or resentment. There’s nothing there. It’s pure indifference.

You pushed Peter away because you didn’t want him to be a rebound, you didn’t want to use him to get over someone else. But you haven’t thought of him since… since… you can’t remember the last time you actually thought of him.

But when you think of Peter your heart races, your palms feel warm, your stomach flutters. His kisses ignite you. You wake up in the morning and think of him, you wake up every night to make sure he’s home and go right back to sleep. You walk with him every morning, you wave and smile at school, you come over everyday.

You’re in love with Peter and only Peter.

“I don’t know why I ever thought he was worth that.”

Peter has the answer, it’s muffled around popcorn. “Cause you loved him.” You pick a piece off Peter’s shirt and crunch down on it. “Yeah, I don’t think I knew what love was. How embarrassing.”

He smiles. Your eyes catch the screen again, you shuffle more towards Peter, then stop yourself. “Is it weird if we cuddle?” Peter rips the popcorn bowl between you away, he’s never cuddled with a girl before but he’d be an idiot to say no.

“Weird for who? Weird for me? Weird for us?” Peter doesn’t care about the answer. “Those are rhetorical, just come cuddle me.” It’s all you needed, you press up against him and wait, he’s not moving. Fine with you, you halfway lay on him, head on his chest. You’ve never been this close to him, you’ve kissed him and you’ve made a bold move that backfired, but you’ve never been this soft or domesticated with him.

Peter’s heart is drumming a little fast, you make no comment. Yours is beating at the same rate.

You expected Peter to still like you but you haven’t asked. After what happened maybe he decided you’d be better friends. It wasn’t talked out, you both skimmed over what happened and started hanging out like nothing happened.

But it did and you’re glad. It puts things in perspective. It made you realize how much you like him. You just need to know if it made him feel the opposite.

“Do you still like me?”

“I’m sorry, I’ve never cuddled with anyone before so I don’t really know what-”

“No, I mean do you still like me?” Peter knows what you mean. He doesn’t know how you think he doesn’t. “Of course I do.” You peek up at him, he’s already got eyes on you, it makes your cheeks feel warm.

“Even after I was shitty to you?” Peter laughs, a hard laugh, you move with his jostles. “Honey, you’ve been giving me shit for nine years, it hasn’t slowed me down one bit.”

Honey. It has a nice ring to it, you like it. But the one you’ve always liked hasn’t ever been uttered with endearment and you really want it, you want it to come from Peter’s voice and have it wrap around your ears while your heart bubbles up with giddiness.

“Can you call me sweetheart?”

“Is that the one you like?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

It’s so much sweeter than you imagined.

You’re not sure what details May knows, but she knows you hurt her nephew. She hasn’t said anything but you can feel her watching your back every time you’re with Peter. Her tone isn’t clipped and she’s just as welcoming as before, but you can feel it. You can sense that she isn’t fully trusting.

May had stared at you for a good thirty seconds when she caught you spread across Peter’s lap while he studied. You tried to focus on his rubix cube in your hand, even going as far to prove you’re not a threat by giving him a light kiss on his cheek. She didn’t seem convinced, but she left it alone.

Two days ago she burst into Peter’s room and made it very clear that when you were over the door stays open. Peter tried to fight it, he said that you were just hanging out but she was dead serious, going as far as saying that if he couldn’t handle her rules, he wasn’t allowed to have company.

Peter didn’t tell you that you were the only person with this rule, but you knew you were.

“I just don’t get why you’re making such a big deal out of this, May. She’s just-” You weren’t going to be involved, you weren’t going to give May more ammo.

“Door stays open, Peter. If May says it, we follow it.” Peter doesn’t agree with you, you can tell by the way he nods his head and clicks his pen. When did you start being able to read him? And why do you like it so much?

But the real hint was when you weren’t welcome to stay for dinner the previous night. There’s never been a time May denied you food, most of the times she’d come over begging you to join so they wouldn’t have so many leftovers. But last night she just suggested you go home and prepare for the next day.

You watched Peter’s jaw clench in frustration, then you sweetened him up with a smile and told him you were planning on leaving anyway. You don’t think he bought it. You needed to talk to May, you needed to know she was okay with you and Peter, if she wasn’t- no matter how hard it would hurt, you’d stay away from Peter.

May is all he has and you’re not going to put any strain on their relationship. Not over you.

Peter was staying late at school for math club and it’s your perfect opportunity. A light knock, May answers almost instantly. She’s surprised but she melts into a smile, it’s lacking something. “Oh! Peter isn’t here.”

“I know. I wanted to talk to you.” Now you’ve got her interest. May opens the door wide, you go straight to the kitchen for the batch of cookies Peter made you last night. You can taste the love in them.

“May, I need you to level with me here. Do you have a problem with me dating Peter?” There’s a beat of silence, “are you dating him?” You swallow a bite, “not yet. I needed to make sure it was okay with you.”

“You’re asking for my blessing?” You slightly nod. “More or less. You’ve been really nice but I feel like there’s a little tension. I feel like you don’t totally trust me with him.” Confirmation, but it doesn’t hurt like you think.

“Peter’s a sensitive boy. He does everything a hundred and ten percent. If you want him, he’ll give you more than his all. Can you say the same?” Can you? Yes. It’s without a doubt. You want him and only him and you’d lay your life on the line. There’s been so much wasted time, Peter could’ve been your first but you were too stubborn.

Peter wasn’t your first, but with everything in you he’s going to be your last.

“Yes. I’m in love with him. I love him more than I ever loved anyone, I love him more than I thought was possible. I want to be there for him, I want to support him through the bad days and I want to be by his side for the good ones. I want him and only him, I was just too dumb to see it before.”

May’s mouth etches into a smile, this time it reaches her eyes and she’s hugging you. A whisper in your ear, “I always knew this is how it would end.” You grin into her shoulder, “really?”

“Peter’s nothing but determined. It was only a matter of time.” You know what that means. “Are you giving me your blessing?” She laughs and pulls you closer, “you always had it. I just needed to know you were serious.”

Time passes quickly, you’re three cookies down and you’re itching for a fourth. You swear he puts crack in them. You talk animatedly with May, you’re fawning over her own love story and hoping that that would be your future with Peter. When the door unlocks you perk up, you can’t bite back your smile or tapping feet.

“Whatcha doing here? Hi May.” Your arms spread wide, Peter fills them. “I came to talk to May, I stayed to see your handsome face.” How did you once see it as annoying? How did you once find his smile revolting? He’s the prettiest person you’ve ever seen. You want to kiss him more than anything, May gave you the green light, you press up on your toes to give him a peck.

“I missed you. How was math club? Were you the smartest hunk there? Don’t answer, I already know it’s a yes.” Peter’s still reeling from the kiss but he powers through. “I wouldn’t be too confident about that, sweetheart.” Your heart clenches, him saying it makes your knees feel weak. “Mathew Ryan is in the club with me.”

“I hate blondes. I only like cuties with brown, curly hair by the name of Peter Parker.” His eyes squint at you, it makes you feel warm, you hide back in his chest. May’s watching with heart eyes, she’s never seen you so happy. “You’re laying it on thick today. You must need something.”

“Just you, handsome.” Okay, you might be laying it on a little thick, but you can’t hold it in. You just love him too much, it’s uncontainable. He’s perfect. “May, she’s up to something. I don’t trust it.” His aunt keeps grinning. “I do.”

Peter pats your back, “if you trust it, I guess I have to, too.” You squeeze him tight and mumble into his chest, he still hears you. “What, now?” You asked if you could talk to him, it had him looking down and giving you his full attention.

“What’s up?” Your eyes shoot to his door, message received. Peter leaves a small gap in the door, you pause and poke your head out to his aunt. “Can I shut the door?” A three second count, “permission granted.” It clicks shut, you spin, you have all his attention.

“You said I was never properly loved.”

Peter feels his heart drop, it was the nastiest thing he could ever say to you. Part of him wished you had forgotten but that’s not something that’s forgettable, that’s something that sticks with you forever. He never meant to say it, it was something he spewed out to make you feel just as bad but that’s not who he is and that’s not what he does and he really should’ve apologized way before now.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. It was a shitty thing to say and I-”

“You weren’t wrong. I haven’t been properly loved. But I’d like for you to show me how it feels.”

Your pulse rises with his silence, Peter holds out a steady hand. “Just to be clear, you’re asking me-”

“If you’d be my boyfriend.”

You let out a soft groan, you’re spinning in his hold and pushing at his arms. “Peter!” He doesn’t care, your feet lightly dangle, you’re laughing with him. “Nuh uh, you’re not allowed to push me away anymore, I’m your boyfriend.”

Boyfriend. Peter Parker is your boyfriend. What a rush of feelings, there’s a new one you haven’t felt before. Pride. You’re prideful that Peter’s your boyfriend, you’ve got the greatest person in the world tethered to your hip and he’s going absolutely nowhere. Ever.

“I’ve been waiting for this day since I was fifteen.” A flurry of kisses over your face, “holy wow, you’re my girlfriend. I can kiss you whenever I want, and I can touch you! Oh, and now I always have someone to eat pizza with. And the science museum! No one ever wants to go to the science museum with me!”

“Holy wow?” You giggle at a string of kisses to your jawline, you never knew someone would be so excited at the thought of dating you. “Wow, wow, wowie, my girlfriend’s a hottie.” You push him away with a disgusted sound, “that’s so gross, Peter.”

“Oops, let me repent with a kiss.”

It’s the fireworks again. This time they’re blinding. Your back burns with his touch, you want to swallow him whole. It’s not lacking passion, but it’s soft. You reach for his shirt collar when he pulls away, this time he laughs.

“I was going to ask if I was a bad kisser but-”

“No.” This time you’re keeping him chained to you with your hands behind his neck. “Best kisser ever,” you give him a chaste one to prove it. “My handsome baby.” Your waist is squeezed, “you’re too nice.” He doesn’t understand, he’ll never be able to understand.

“I wasted so much time, Peter. You were right there and I was so… so stupid that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. I have no idea why you like me, I was so mean and cruel and I never appreciated you.”

Peter has secrets too. “I was friendly, but I didn’t like you. You were super aggressive and made a point to say something mean… but then Ben died.” The oxygen runs from your lungs, it wasn’t something you thought about, you thought he didn’t either.

It was brutal watching him and May go through that. You remember that night vividly, the night May got the call. You could hear her screams from your room, it’s something you’ll never forget. Her wails, the way she begged to God that it was all a dream. You knew what happened before you could see them and the one thing you thought of in that moment was Peter.

You can still remember the panic you felt, the overwhelming urge to make sure he was okay. You remember your feet skidding across the carpet, the cold hardwood in the hall, the way your middle knuckle split you were knocking so hard.

‘Peter,’ it’s all you had to say. Then you were scooping him into your arms, holding him tight as he sobbed. You kept telling him you were sorry, you brushed his hair back and rubbed circles on his back. You kept him tucked into your neck while he cried, you didn’t tell him it was okay, nothing about that night was okay. You remember holding in your own tears, you swallowed them down and held Peter all night.

Fourteen hours. You had him curled up with you while you kept telling him sorry, you had stayed up all night with him and took care of him. You got him water, you made him eat a snack, you did what you could while they slept. You did laundry, you did the dishes, you made cookies.

Peter’s uncle died and you made him cookies.

Your boyfriend dumped you and Peter made you cookies.

You basically lived there for a week, you slept with Peter, held him with each bout of sadness, and never ever told him it was okay. You held his hand at the funeral and kissed him on the back of it before he gave his eulogy. You made sure he was minimally functioning, you tried to keep him busy with dumb tasks.

After two weeks he didn’t need you anymore and you slowly faded away until it settled into how it used to be. You think Peter liked it a little, not everything had to change because Ben died. But you never went out of your way to hurt him anymore, he didn’t need your help in that department. What used to be petty attacks turned into silence and gentle name calling.

But you were there for him when he needed it. Just how he was with you.

“You pulled an Uncle Ben on me.”

A twitch in his lips, “you were there for me when my world ended, I had to return the favor.” It’s not fair for him to compare the two. “I was broken up with, I didn’t have my-”

“Devastation comes in all forms. It’s not about whos is worse, it’s about being there for someone you care about.” He doesn’t hide his smile, “even if they claim to hate you for all eternity.”

“I don’t hate you anymore.”

“Spoiler alert, you never did.”

You’ve been caught. Peter knew the whole time, he was just waiting on you. “Are you sure you don’t hate me? Cause I’ve been really terrible to you the last month.” Your boyfriend rolls his eyes before giving you a big hug.

“That’s because you’re stubborn and didn’t want to admit you liked me.” You poke his ribs, “you knew?”

“Sweetheart, I knew the day you said I had very pretty eyes.”

“Yeah, you do. Let me see them again, boyfriend.”

The last six weeks you detested love and what it brings. The disaster, the heartbreak, the pain. You never thought you’d love again and definitely not with the neighbor you hated. But right there, in his room, you felt your heart crack open and ooze onto his bedroom floor.

And you watched love begin again.

“Anything for you, girlfriend.”

----

TAGLIST: (some @'s wouldn't show up :(

@hollandweather @imwaytoolazyforthis @sincericida @darling-im-wonderstruck @abucketofweird @conniesanchor @ellieistired @melodicheauxxlovesfood @nyomjoon @buckybarnessweetheart @luqueam @hyacinthhare @prettiest-lover @jakobsdump @vanessa-b @toomanydamfandoms @jamespottersdaisy @sassyrizznerd @arctic0tter @thievin-stealing @cool-ontherun-world @gwengonesplat @sunflowerkiwis @iamawhoreforu @cottonheadedninny-muggins @toezies @1-800-peggy @lnmp89 @ribbonknives @sinceweremutual @luerdelune @pining-and-tired @gorefairies @str4wberry222 @hoetel-manager @rexorangecounty @ellswilliams @peterparkerswhvre @kdbsr-h @astrxq @eatshitanddie- @somethings-going-on-here @m0g444 @oncasette @rainyyouthcoffee @azkzaban @know-its-for-the-better @hellfirescoops

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker angst #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter smut #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #my writing

1K notes · View notes