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spider-stark · 27 days

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INFINITELY YOU

part two // crullers & constants

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+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

WORD COUNT - 4.2k

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

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

Peter Pan Donuts is a sacred place.

Or, rather, it was a sacred place—and walking back into the shop now felt awfully strange.

Back when you and Peter first started high school, it had become a tradition to end every Friday with one of the renowned pastry shop’s legendary frosted crullers. You considered it a well-deserved reward for surviving another week of more drama than either of you could stomach, thankful that the weekend was finally upon you and that you could finally breathe without inhaling the reek of the unwashed teenage boys that lined the halls of Midtown.

Peter Pan’s quickly became a haven. A safe place where the two of you could tuck yourselves away at the end of the bar, talking for hours about the teachers you hated and the bullies you hoped would fall from the face of the Earth. There was nothing that you couldn’t talk about, no secrets kept between you and Peter.

Or, at least, none that mattered.

But things changed as time passed, as they so often do.

It started with the inclusion of Ned. You didn’t particularly mind his presence, even if the conversations had begun to shift towards less intimate topics, focusing instead on movies that you all wanted to see or upcoming video games that you would all try to play.

Then came the inclusion of Mj a few months later, after she landed a job at the shop. That was when everything truly changed—when it was no longer you and Peter tucked away at the bar, but you and Ned, left to pick at your food and watch as Peter leaned across the front counter and talked to Mj over her shift.

After a few months of testing every donut on the menu with Ned, you stopped going altogether.

And Peter never even asked why.

“I was surprised to see you texted me,” you quip as you slid onto the free barstool, “what happened to not wanting me to get involved?”

Peter exhales sharply through his nose, and even though his eyes are glued to his phone, you can tell that he was already regretting asking you to meet him here. “I already told you that what I want doesn’t matter.”

And how true that must have been.

There had been nothing kind about his text to you this morning, although there was nothing inherently rude about it either, you supposed. It was simple—meet me at Peter Pan’s asap, need 2 talk—but you could almost sense the begrudging nature with which he had typed it. And, sitting next to him now, you could almost feel it, too.

He didn’t want you here, even if he had been the one to invite you, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he had decided to involve you at all—especially so soon. What had changed in a single night?

Sitting on the barstool to your left, Parker pops his lips. “Well this is fun. I’m not at all uncomfortable right now.”

You turned towards him, acknowledging just how different he looked in the civilian clothes that he donned in place of his suit—black jeans that certainly looked worse for wear and an old Ramone’s t-shirt that you immediately recognized as yours. Oversized on you, the short sleeves clung rather tightly to his well-muscled arms. Did he seriously go through your stuff?!

“Why are you even here?” You ask, perhaps a little sharper than necessary. You weren’t angry that he had gone sifting through the armoire in the spare bedroom, especially since he couldn’t just parade around as Spider-Man all of the time. But he could’ve at least asked. “Shouldn’t one of you be busy patrolling?”

It was hard to tell if the offense on his face was real or feigned, but you didn’t care much either way. “Peter wanted answers about my world, I wanted food,” he shrugs, gesturing at the crème-filled donut in front of him. “And Peter 2’s handling patrol.”

Peter 2—you had almost forgotten about him, the version of Peter that hadn’t wanted to come with Ned and Mj to your apartment last night. As far as you could tell when you woke up this morning, he hadn’t shown up in the middle of the night, either—no trace of Parker or anyone else when you had finally stumbled out of your room to get ready after reading the text from Peter.

You didn’t figure it was really your business where the mystery Peter was, but you were a little surprised to hear that he was still out patrolling. Was he not exhausted?

“Ametaur move getting crème-filled,” you tell him, ignoring everything he said. “Should’ve gone with the frosted vanilla cruller, it’s way better.”

“No way,” he gapes, grabbing the half-eaten pastry and shaking it for emphasis as he said, “this is god-tier, alright? No way anything’s topping it.”

The expression on his face was actually hilarious, his brown doe eyes alight with pure euphoria as he took another bite of the donut. An exaggerated moan slipped his lips, coated with bits of sugar and crème. It was hard not to laugh at him, especially when you knew that was probably his goal—to combat the evident tension between you and Peter.

Chuckling, you lift your hands in mock defense. “Suit yourself, Parker. But if you ever wanna experience true pleasure, then you know what to order.”

Parker looks as if he's about to continue his borderline-lustful tangent about the donut, but Peter spoke up instead, his attention snagging on the name you used.

“Parker?” He echoes in disbelief, letting his phone clatter against the bar.

Peter’s sudden resurgence to the real world left Parker silent, sinking back against his stool and taking another bite.

“What?” Your brow arches, your voice laced with incredulity. “Did you really think I’d keep calling him Peter 2? No offense to Ned, but everything about that feels stupid.”

Peter’s eyes narrow, coupled with a subtle shake of his head that indicates he doesn't care nearly enough to have this conversation right now.

You didn’t care much either, and so you steered the conversation in a more productive direction. “So what is this grand plan of yours?” You ask with a somewhat sarcastic lilt. “And where do I fit into it?”

Another huff of breath escaped his nostrils. “We don’t even have a plan. Not yet,” he reluctantly admits. “But I tried talking to Doctor Strange last night, to see if he had some sort of magical spell or something that would let us go back and fix all of this.”

Your lips press together, nibbling on the skin and pretending you didn’t notice the hidden meaning behind his words. He hadn’t just gone to Doctor Strange to find a way to get rid of the villains now lurking in your world, because if he had, then he wouldn’t have gone specifically seeking out a spell that would let him go back—not just to stop the villains from ever coming here, but to save May, too.

“Did he?”

Peter reached for his cup of iced coffee, if only to occupy his now-fidgeting fingers. “No,” he murmurs, the sound of sloshing ice nearly overpowering him as he swirled the cup. “He didn’t.”

You frown at the tinge of disappointment that snuck through his otherwise even tone, your chest aching. You had to fight against the urge to say I’m sorry, remembering what he had said to you last night—he didn’t want your apologies, nor did he seem to want anyone else's.

In truth, you weren’t sure what Peter wanted; or what you could do to help him.

“Well did he have anything useful?”

He shook his head, lifting the cup to his mouth. “Define useful,” he scoffed, sounding uncharacteristically sharp. He took a sip of his drink, his nose scrunching as soon as the coffee hit his tongue—too bitter.

Despite the coffee’s pale color that indicated it was more cream than coffee, you weren’t surprised that it was still too strong for him. Peter had never truly developed a taste for coffee, only pursuing a caffeine addiction for the sake of combating the exhaustion that came with being Spider-Man. That didn’t mean he had ever grown to like it though, masking the taste with copious amounts of sugar and syrups.

“Something that will keep multiversal villains from tearing our world apart?” You venture half-heartedly, guided by pure instinct and muscle memory as you reached over to take his cup from him, snagging a few packs of sugar from the plastic canister on the bar to0.

“He has a theory,” Peter gives you a tight-lipped smile, born of pure frustration.

“A theory? And he expects us to save the world with this theory?” You ask, a bit more derisive than you would have been if Doctor Strange were around to hear.

Peter scoots closer to you, his voice purposefully low. “Do you remember when I told you about him using the Time Stone before Mr. Stark died? To look through all the different outcomes with Thanos?”

Ripping open the sugar packets and dumping them in his cup, you managed to mask a wince at the mention of Peter’s dead mentor. You only nodded, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you tried for any sort of verbal affirmation.

“Well… when he did that, he thinks that he might have actually seen through the multiverse—he just didn’t know for sure at the time.”

Your forehead creased as you popped the lid back onto his cup, sliding it back towards him. Given his advantage of Spidey-sense, he easily caught it before it could slide too far and end up on the floor—which is what would have definitely happened pre-Spider bite.

“And you don’t consider that to be useful to our current situation?”

“No. I don’t.” Peter answers firmly. “Because at the center of it all—in every universe the Stone showed him—all he saw was you.”

You nearly laugh, your lips curving as you rose a brow at him. “Me?”

Peter gave a nod as he took another sip of his drink. This time, his nose didn’t scrunch.

“But it’s been almost a year since the Avengers took down Thanos,” you reminded him, your stunned amusement beginning to fade into confusion. “If he saw.. Me, when he used the Stone, then why didn’t he say anything until now?”

By no means would you consider yourself to be close with New York’s resident Sorcerer, and so you wouldn’t have expected him to come to you with this knowledge. But Peter—he knew Peter, and he knew that you were Peter’s best friend, and so it didn’t make any sense to you why Doctor Strange chose to wait until now to mention what the Stone had shown him.

Given the aggravated expression Peter wore, it was clear that he was thinking the same. “I don’t know, and trying to get answers out of Doctor Strange that he clearly doesn’t want to give is like pulling teeth.”

“But what does that mean?” You couldn’t stop yourself from pressing further, concern starting to bubble up inside of you. Regardless of his answer—if he had one—you had a feeling you wouldn’t like it. “I don’t get how I’m at the center of every universe.”

Peter blew out a breath, his fingers going back to tapping against the sides of his plastic cup. “Alright, so there are probably well-over a hundred thousand different parallel universes, okay? Some of them are probably super similar to ours, and then there are others that are the complete opposite.”

“O-kay,” you drone, your brows drawing together. You felt the start of a headache coming on as you prepared yourself for the confusing science-talk that was surely about to start pouring out of his mouth.

Perhaps noticing your pained expression, Peter tries to find a way to simplify whatever explanation he was about to use. “Try and look at it like this,” he started, “think of the multiverse as some giant, cosmic loom, alright? Now imagine that each thread on the loom signifies a person. As the loom weaves all of these different threads together, different decisions get made and different actions are taken—and with every choice, a new thread is spun, branching off and creating a variation of the original tapestry.”

“So it’s like you and Parker, right?” You interrupt him, rubbing at your temples. “Same thread, different reality?”

“Exactly! And, technically speaking, that’s how it’s supposed to be. As the loom weaves and alters reality, each thread continuously evolves into something different.” He paused, his fingers finally falling still. “But now imagine that—in the center of all of these branching tapestries—there exists one thread, entirely unbroken and unaltered by this ever-weaving tapestry of existence, okay? A glitch in the cosmic fabric, a constant that’s woven into infinite realities and yet, somehow, remains fundamentally unchanged. How does that work?”

You couldn’t ignore the sense of dread creeping up your spine, nor could you escape the slight wobble in your voice as you said, “It doesn’t sound like it should.”

“You’re right, it shouldn’t work.” Peter confirmed, his expression nearly impossible to read. “But according to Doctor Strange, you are that thread. A constant anomaly that defies every potential law of the multiverse.”

Nausea bubbled in your gut. God, you did not want to deal with this right now!

“And let me guess,” a bitter laugh follows your words, “that’s as much information as he was willing to give, wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” Peter pops his lips, leaning back into his stool. His brows raise slightly in a silent I told you so before he says, “Hey, you’re the one that wanted to be involved, right? Now you’re at the center of everything-”

“I said I wanted to help you,” you correct him sharply. “Not that I wanted to be at the center of Doctor Strange’s weird Time Stones fantasies!”

He only shrugs, barely acknowledging the dirty look you gave him as he plucks his phone off of the counter, clicking on a notification. “Same thing, isn’t it? Either way, you get what you want.”

“What I want?” You echoed, your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“Doctor Strange seems to think that whatever is wrong with you might help us solve all of this. That you might be connected to the multiverse somehow, or that you’re at least immune to it. So yeah, you get what you want. You get to help,” he spat the word out like an insult, too focused on typing something to even notice how rude he sounded.

If it weren’t for the feeling that stomach acid was about to come crawling up your throat, then you might have taken some time to unpack the bitterness in his tone or be hurt by the claim that something was wrong with you—but you didn’t. Even if you had, you weren’t sure that it would have gotten you anywhere.

You weren’t stupid. Peter was wielding his insolence like a shield, purposefully trying to hurt you as an effort to keep you at arms length—and, if you had to guess, Mj and Ned were probably receiving the same treatment right now.

“Well this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to help,” you admitted, one hand going to rest against your cramping stomach. At least the throbbing in your temples had died down…

Peter only shrugged at you, shoving his phone in his back pocket and rising to his feet. “Too bad,” he told you, offering a smile that most definitely wasn’t genuine. “I’ve gotta go, but make him walk you home, alright? I’ll text you if I hear anything else from Doctor Strange.”

Parker frowned beside you, and whether it was because Peter was speaking about him like he wasn’t here or because of his attitude in general, you couldn’t tell.

“Whoa, hold up! You didn’t even tell me what your plan is until you hear from him!” You argue, reaching for his wrist to keep him from walking past you until he answered.

He pulls his hand back from your grip, but not before your stare snags on the reddish hue that stains his nails—blood. Noticing it only served to make you feel sicker, and to make your concern for Peter grow larger. Was he really still walking around with May’s blood caked under his nails? Has he rested at all since last night?

“Same plan as always,” he told you, your eyes snapping up to meet his, suddenly noticing how rimmed with exhaustion they were. “Stop the bad guys.”

He didn’t leave any time for protests or further questions before turning his back to you and heading straight for the exit. When the little bell on the door chimed as he shoved his way back out onto the streets, you couldn’t stop the worried sigh that escaped your lips.

Peter was an Avenger by every right. He had battled alongside a Norse God and helped take down a literal Titan, and so knew that you shouldn’t have any reason to doubt his capability when it came to taking down whatever villains had crossed into your world.

But it wasn’t that you doubted his ability to survive against them, or even his ability to stop them—you were worried about whether he could handle the weight of it all.

The weight of him placing yet another thing on his shoulders. Another villain, another fight, another burden, another chance to lose someone.

Thinking of that, it suddenly dawned on you that maybe Mj and Ned weren’t getting the same treatment as you. Maybe you were getting the worst of it, if only because now whatever connection you had to the multiverse was just another weight he thought he had to bear, another person he had to worry about protecting.

Guilt flooded your veins, and even as you tried to remind yourself that you hadn’t caused this, you still couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that it was somehow your fault anyway.

“Y’know, I get that this probably isn’t the right time for this,” Parker starts. When you look at him, your attention immediately snags on the dozen donuts that he had ordered while you were talking to Peter. “But I think it’s so cool that you guys have magic in your world!”

He takes another bite of the donut in his hand, powdered sugar falling from his lips as he says, “And these donuts! It’s a tough call, but they might be even better than magic!”

You didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell if he was intentionally trying to lighten the mood or if it was just incidental, but it worked all the same. Laughter poured from your mouth, and it wasn’t until it died down that he said anything else.

“Sooo… That was tense, wasn’t it? Like, it wasn’t just me, right?”

You groan, propping your elbows against the counter and placing your cheeks in your palms. “Was it that noticeable?”

Parker snorts a laugh, stretching an arm past you to reach for Peter’s abandoned coffee. “Oh, yeah. It’s actually painful to be in a room with you two.”

His playful tone made it clear that it was just a joke, but it still made you feel bad. You already didn’t like how hostile things felt between you and Peter, even if it was only one-sided, and to know that others felt it too just made it that much worse.

“Things are just.. Difficult, right now.” You tell him, choosing your words carefully.

“So it hasn’t always been like that with you guys?” He asks, and the delicate arch of his brow made it seem as though he were shocked by the possibility that things had ever been civil between you and Peter.

There was a chance that you had misread his expression though, as it was very quickly wiped away once he took a sip of Peter’s half-drank coffee, gagging as soon as it hit his tongue. “Holy shi-” he started coughing, cutting off the vulgarities that threatened to spill out. “How does he drink this?!” Parker yelped as soon as he could take a full breath, looking utterly disgusted as he shoved the cup back across the bar. “It’s literally just liquid sugar!”

You found it hard to stifle your amusement at his suffering, even as he shot you a teasing scowl for it. “No,” you answer his previous question, trying to ignore his melodramatic display, “believe it or not, things between us actually used to be really… I don’t know—easy, I guess.”

Parker was still smacking his lips to try and rid himself of the cloying aftertaste. “What changed?”

In retrospect, you realized that it probably would have been smarter for you to bite your tongue. To offer him some cheap, cop-out excuse rather than tell him the truth. After all, you already had experience in hiding from the truth and it wasn’t like you really knew Parker, and so lying to him shouldn’t have been a hard task.

Yet, for some reason, you told him the truth anyway.

“Mj happened.”

Parker’s brows furrows. “The girl from last night, right?”

“Yep. That’s the one.”

“Y’know, I don’t really like her all that much,” his words were spoken like a balm, seeking to ease the dejected look etched upon your face, but tinged with enough playful sarcasm for you to know he didn’t actually mean them. “She threw a bread roll at me. A few of them, actually.”

It was hard not to laugh at the thought considering that it was such an Mj thing to do. “Sounds about right,” you crack a smile, although you don't feel particularly happy. “She’s always been slow to trust, especially complete strangers.”

In an odd sort of way, the statement felt like a lie. Not because it actually wasn’t true—because Mj was wary of strangers—but because Parker didn’t quite feel like a stranger in your mind. While last night had been a bit awkward, you now felt like talking to him was effortless, each sentence rolling off your tongue with unnatural ease.

“But she trusts you?” Parker asks, picking a crumb off another one of the pastries and popping it into his mouth.

You sucked in a breath.

“I don’t know,” you answer him, with a bit more honesty than you're comfortable with. “I mean, I know that she used to trust me. But now… I’m not even sure if she likes me anymore.”

His brow snapped up. “What changed?”

Suddenly the truth no longer felt so easy, and you found yourself wishing that you could change the subject altogether. You didn’t want to talk about this—especially not with him, some boy that you had known for less than twenty-four hours.

But you had backed yourself into a corner, and so in an effort to try and satiate whatever interest he had developed in the story you had told, you settled on offering a vague half-truth.

“She started dating Peter,” you tell him simply, putting effort into looking disinterested. “They got together a few months ago and things just… It just got weird, y’know? It’s always awkward when two of your friends get together, I guess. Creates too much drama.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Parker hums, agreeing with you. “Especially when you have feelings for him, right?”

An incomprehensible noise escaped your throat, best categorized as something between a laugh and a cough. Your mouth fell open to try and defend yourself, to try and deny his claim—but he didn’t even give you a chance.

“Oh c’mon!” Parker groans, grinning when he notices the now rosy complexion of your cheeks. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I mean, let’s be real here, alright? That whole sugar thing earlier?” He jutted a finger towards Peter’s abandoned iced coffee, “Was a dead giveaway.”

“You’re insane,” You declare, shaking your head and masking your embarrassment with uncomfortable laughter. “I don’t have feelings for Peter—and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter! Regardless of what it’s done to our friendship, Mj is literally perfect for him and-”

“I think it’s cute,” he interrupts, a delicate smile gracing his lips. Noticing the way your brows furrow, he elaborated, “How much you care about him. And how much you care about her, too, since you’re so willing to pretend like you don’t like him.”

“I’m not pretending-”

Parker jokingly cut his eyes. “Yeah, sureee.”

Blowing a frustrated breath, you push yourself up from the barstool. “Alright, I think it’s time to go home.” You tell him, far too flustered to try and come up with a good defense to his teasing. “You can take the rest of your donuts to go, Bug-boy.”

There was a subtle shift in his demeanor as the taunting nickname fell from your lips, and he almost felt as though his heart had stopped dead in his chest.

“Fine,” Parker yields, rising to his feet and snagging the box of donuts from the bar. “But I really hope that you have your wallet—cause I definitely don’t have a way to pay for these.” He flashed a crooked smile before continuing, “Or we can just run really fast and hope they don’t call the police on us for stealing pastries.”

“I can’t imagine that robbery would be very good for your reputation as a hero,” you chide sarcastically, your own lips curling into a half-smile, “so I’ll pay—but only if you give me every cruller in that box. Deal?”

Parker spares a quick glance down at the dozen box of donuts in his hands. Half of them were already gone, but through the small cellophane window he could see that there were three frosted crullers left. “Deal.”

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a/n - for those who read IY before the rewrite, you may already be able to note some rather major changes going on lmao. i genuinely can't describe how much i actually enjoy rewriting this story, as i'm finally able to collect my thoughts enough to write the plot the way i originally wanted to.

as always, please leave any feedback, opinions, etc.! any and all comments/reblogs definitely encourage me to write/edit faster! and, if you'd like to be added to the tag list, just let me know!

part three, titled "spitfire", to be released april 15th

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ynscrazylife · 2 years

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Clinging Onto You

Request: “HIII idk if your taking requests rn but I thought id put in an idea for a peter parker x stark!daughter fic where theyre in a secret relationship and they get exposed somehow? im thinking kinda angsty like he walks in to the compound all bloody or something AHH IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT but thats pretty much it but yeah! i love your stuff btw!!”

Summary: The Avengers unexpectedly find out that Tony’s daughter Y/N and Peter are dating.

Authors Note: Set during No Way Home, in an AU that everyone survived Endgame.

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

Peter felt his heart practically lurch out of his body when saw Y/N falling. In a snap, he forgot about his mission, he forgot about the other Peters, he forgot about everything. The only thing concerning him was his girlfriend’s safety. It was so high up his priority list that it consumed him, and to see her safety be threatened lit a fuel he didn’t know he had.

He didn’t think, or hear, or speak when he ran and leapt, diving after her with his arm outstretched. Faster, he thought to himself, as the image of complete terror overwhelming Y/N was burned into his mind, her bone-shattering scream sure to leave his ears ringing for days.

The tips of their fingers were inches away, he was nearly there, just about to lock his tight grip on her shaky hand when bam—the wind was knocked out of him as he was thrown off to the side, too far away from Y/N for his liking.

Recovering quickly, Peter’s spider sense directed his fingers to scrape at and clutch the edge of the construction site. Using all his upper body strength, he pulled himself up and scrambled across. His eyes were wide as a bug’s as he searched the abyss of construction for his falling girlfriend, about to send a thwip of webs in her direction when he didn’t see her.

He panted. Had she fallen? Was she—?

From his position, Peter didn’t spot that the other Peter had caught Y/N with tears in his eyes about the girl he wish he could’ve caught. On the tip of a spiral of hatred and despair, his saving grace was found when Peter 3’s voice came over their shared comm system.

“Peter, Peter 1, I caught Y/N. She’s okay, just a little shaken up.”

After the initial shock were off, Peter’s influx of grief was replaced with waves of relief. His ability to breathe became easier and he felt his muscles lose their tension. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he croaked in response.

Later on, when Peter saw the back of Green Goblin standing mere feet away from him, a desire for vengeance flashed through his eyes. He narrowed in on his target and walked towards him, arms outstretched to do something—anything—when he was stopped.

“Eh eh eh, don’t do anything too quickly,” his sneaky, drawling voice came.

Peter furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, watching as the man slowly turned around. Then, his eyes widened, seeing the person who was with the villain. None other than the love of his life, his girlfriend Y/N, the daughter of one of the most famous heroes ever. Green Goblin had an arm around her, tightly holding her back. Fear was in her eyes as she struggled in vain.

“Let her go, Goblin,” Peter ordered in a low voice, slowing down his movements. In the back of his mind, he wondered where the other Peters were. This was very inconvenient.

He had the nerve to laugh a sick laugh and it made Peter’s blood boil with anger. “I said, let her go!” He repeated, raising his voice to yell.

Green Goblin ignored this and took a step forward, dragging Y/N along with him. “I observed your reaction when she fell, Parker. Quite distraught you were when you didn’t catch her, hmm? I’ll let her go . . . when you admit, in front of the cameras, who the daughter of Stark is to you and why you hid her from the public like your identity!” He said.

For the first time, Peter’s eyes flickered up and he noticed the cameras circling the air above them from helicopters. All news stations, most likely, broadcasting the footage to the entire globe. And, if the entire globe was seeing it, that meant the Avengers were watching, too.

(And, back at the Avengers tower, the team was watching in half-shock, half-fear. They had known that this was a fight Peter needed to do by himself, so they refrained from suiting up, but the involvement of Y/N changed it at all.)

His eyes flickered over to Y/N anxiously, who was still determined and not giving up in her fight for freedom. He couldn’t trust that Green Goblin would stay true to his word. “Why do you want me to say this?” Peter questioned.

Green Goblin pursed his lips. “Oh, Peter, I thought you were smarter than this,” he began condescendingly. “Don’t you know that my goal is to cause you as much pain as possible? You’re hiding something. You’re hiding her. And I will force it out of you, one way or another.”

When Peter hesitated, still not trusting him, Green Goblin took it a step forward. Reaching into a pocket, the young hero only saw a flash of what it was in his hand before he injected it into Y/N’s neck. Gasping, Y/N began to fight even harder, although it didn’t do anything.

“This, son, is a poison I developed. It’s quick-acting. She gets the antidote when you tell me what I want to know,” the villain threatened.

Peter’s eyes went wide. He opened his mouth, prepared to spill it all, when he caught sight of the other Peters stealthily approaching from behind Green Goblin. Within a split second, they attacked. Peter 3 pulled the man back with his webs while Peter 2 administered the cure.

At the sudden loss of his grip on her, Y/N stumbled forward. Peter leapt to catch her, wrapping his arms wound her protectively and pulling her close. “The antidote!” He yelled to Peter 2. “It’s somewhere in his pocket!”

Peter 2 jumped into action, reaching into Green Goblin’s pocket. When he grabbed the antidote, he tossed it to Peter. Peter caught it and injected into Y/N. For a split second, her eyes widened, but she soon relaxed. “Thank you,” she murmured into her boyfriend’s shoulder.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the comfort that Y/N just being safe was bringing to him. He only opened his eyes when he felt the wind hit his face, blinking and making out the Avengers’ Quinjet arriving before all the team members stepped out. While the other Peters returned to their own universes, Tony led the team towards the embracing teenagers.

“Y/N, Peter, are you guys alright?” He asked worthily, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

Turning around, Y/N gladly fell into her father’s arms. Meanwhile, Peter blinked at the sudden loss of her touch. It felt like he was missing something. “I’m—I’m fine. Just cuts and bruises. But Y/N—” he began to say, as the rest of the Avengers crowded around them.

Y/N shook her head, melting back into the safety next that was her boyfriend, leaning against him. “I feel—I feel . . . I’m fine, okay? Don’t worry about me,” she mumbled into Peter’s shoulder. No one was convinced.

Before Tony could start an argument with his daughter out of concern, Natasha stepped in. “Let’s get you guys on the Quinjet. Bruce will have to check you both over just in case,” she directed softly, leading them onto the Quinjet.

Peter and Y/N stayed to the back, away from everyone else. Although Tony had wanted to join his daughter, Steve had steered him away, whispering about how they needed some space with each other to process everything. On the Quinjet, everyone took their seats. Normally Natasha and Clint would pilot, but this time they put it on autopilot. Peter and Y/N settled into seats next to each other, with Y/N wrapping both arms around one of Peter’s.

Bruce was able to clean and disinfect Peter’s cuts, but then he had to switch to Y/N. “I want to have F.R.I.D.A.Y do a medical scan and take a sample of blood just to be sure. We couldn’t really tell what happened with Goblin from the T.V, but it was obviously something,” he said.

At that, Peter looked around. Everyone — except for Tony that is, who was looking at the teens intently — averted their gaze at Bruce’s words. He had wondered if they heard what Green Goblin had said, and it was obvious by now that they had. He silently thanked them for not bringing it up, even though they wanted to.

“He poisoned me, but Peter gave me the antidote. ‘M fine,” she mumbled tiredly.

“P-poison?” Tony coughed out, his eyes wide. He wasn’t the only one shocked and concerned, but the others hid it better.

“Let’s go over to somewhere where there’s more light so we can make sure,” Bruce instructed softly, before standing up and moving to the center of the ship, where the light from the ceiling was shining down.

Y/N went to to follow him, her grip on Peter never lessening. Peter didn’t mind, he was more than happy to hold onto her. He joined them both, and thankfully FRIDAY was intelligent enough to be able to scan Y/N without needing Peter to step aside. He patiently waited for Bruce to take Y/N’s finger prick, and the couple watched as he analyzed the incoming scan.

“You seem okay, the antidote worked quickly . . . But the poison and antidote has some side effects and has weakened you. You’ll need to rest like Peter,” Bruce concluded. “I’ll analyze your blood just to make sure.”

As soon as she was given the green light, Y/N wasted no time in during around and plopping herself in her seat. Peter gladly joined her.

When the Quinjet reached the compound, everyone began organizing themselves. Natasha took it upon herself to wake the now-sleeping teenagers, who had wrapped themselves around each other. Y/N’s legs were thrown over Peter’s lap, her head resting in the crook of his neck. Peter had his arms wrapped around her, his head resting against her own.

Everyone had noticed — except Tony, that was, who was too worried about his daughter to notice anything else. However, no one said a word, wanting them to sleep.

When Natasha approached the teens, she reached her hand out to shake Peter’s shoulder, when Y/N shifted. After a moment, she settled, but her mumbling came not long after. Natasha didn’t catch what she said, but when she moved around more, it woke Peter up.

“Wha—” Peter started to mumble himself, blinking a couple times before turning to Y/N. Recognizing the situation, he shifted, pulling Y/N closer. In response, Y/N kept moving around, but couldn’t go anywhere in Peter’s arms.

“Catch me, please,” she whispered in her sleep, making Peter’s and Natasha’s eyes widen.

“Y/N, Y/N, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up,” Peter said, his voice loud but still kind, wasting no time in gently shaking her shoulder. This got everyone’s attention, stopping what they were doing to turn to the teenagers and the Widow.

“Pe—ter, catch me!” Y/N yelled, kicking her leg out and hitting the air. She tossed and turned and Peter had to tighten his grip on her so she didn’t accidentally fall onto the ground.

“Y/N, wake up,” he repeated, pausing before ultimately cupping her cheek in his hand. The comforting touch instantly drew her from her restless sleep, and as soon as she became aware, she was looking around hurriedly. “Hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Y/N relaxed, wrapping her arms around Peter and pulling herself closer to him — if that was even possible. He adjusted himself so she was sitting in his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist, head nestled into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her back, his chin on his shoulder, glancing at the other Avengers.

After a few minutes of small mumblings from Peter about how he was here for her and how she was safe, Steve cleaned his throat. “We’re ready,” he announced to the team, although it was clear who his intended target was. Everyone but Peter and Y/N had their stuff.

The team stood up, Tony and Natasha grabbing Y/N and Peter’s belongings, while Peter stood up, carrying his girlfriend. No one said a word about it until they reached the compound’s living room, where Y/N had fallen asleep and Peter had laid her carefully on the couch.

“What was that?” Tony asked, coughing. His voice was thick with emotion and hoarse.

When Peter turned around, wearing a tired, concerned, and sad expression, Tony opened his mouth to retract the question. He was about to say that it was fine, he could hear about it another time, but Peter already started talking.

“During the fight, she-she fell. I dived after her but was knocked out of the way. I assumed the worst, but one of the other Peters caught her,” he explained, averting his gaze and ultimately squeezing his eyes shut as he recalled the utter fear that ran through his blood. He let the team adjust to this for a couple seconds, since he wasn’t done speaking. “Then, Goblin must’ve grabbed her. He wanted me to . . . to admit who she is to me because he wanted to hurt me. I was reluctant, how could I trust him? So he poisoned her, but the other Peters arrived and we got the antidote for her and cured him.”

Tony’s gaze fell to his daughter. “Oh my god,” he whispered, gravitating towards her and kneeling down. Reaching out to brush the hair away from her face, he looked up at Peter as he pieced the puzzle together. “Are you two in a relationship with each other?” He asked.

Peter slowly looked around at everyone in the room, all still processing what he had just revealed. “We were going to tell you,” he admitted. It was the truth.

Tony nodded, taking a deep breath before standing up. He turned to Peter and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Get some rest, Pete. You did great today,” he said.

Blinking, Peter nodded a little numbly. However, he couldn’t hide his tired, goofy smile as he let himself flop on the couch next to Y/N. He pulled his girlfriend closer to himself, knowing that it wouldn’t wake her up. Steve threw a blanket over them and the team all took their seats, beginning a quiet conversation. Closing his eyes, Peter continued to smile as he was holding Y/N and feeling her warmth, letting his team’s soft and low voices lull him to sleep.

It would take a while for them to be okay again, but they worked through it together. And now, at least, they didn’t need to hide it from the Avengers anymore. (Although they did have to deal with Sam and Bucky’s constant teasing).

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mischievous-thunder · 2 years

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More power to representation!

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spideydreams00 · 2 years

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I’ll fuck you till you understand

SUMMARY: Peter is always the dom in bed, a tease and one day you had enough of the teasing + you had a bad day, what is better than to fuck the spider ling and reverse the roles, taking your frustration out on him

Switch! Peter x Switch! Reader

SMUT

She her pronouns used. (Reader has superpowers, (telekinesis)

WARNINGS: impact play, slight degradation, praise kink, bondage? Edging, overstimulation, dacryphillia

Enjoy 🌙

“Fuck You Peter”

You cried, he was rubbing tight and fast circles on your clit edging you and not letting you have any release, to be clear today wasn’t the best day to be a fucking tease, you had a fucked up day, you felt frustrated, stressed and now you were pissed at Peter, you just wanted to cum but the teasing was far from ending, your sweaty body and your aching cunt begging for release.

“Oh darling… it’ll be the one fucking you, trust me”

Cocky bitch you though.

You were tied up, legs spread wide while Peter was in between them.

“Just fuck me please!” You cried

Fuck, fuck, fuck, so so close to cumming.

“You’ll get it sweetheart… just wait a little longer”

His movements on your clit went faster getting you close to relief the relief you craved so much.

“Im close!” You cried

Then he stopped.

“N-No!” You cried again bucking your hips into his fingers needing the friction

He just chucked and smirked loving to get you all desperate for him

“Oh dove.. so fucking needy” he holds your hips down

“Fuck me!” You cried again

“You’ll have to beg”

“Im begging you to fuck me please!” His cocky and reckless behavior was pissing you right now more than any other day

“What if I want to keep teasing you darling? Huh? Wanna have you on edge”

“Don’t be mean please!.. p-please fuck me now!”

“What if I don’t?”

That made something snap in you, your eyes darkened and if he wasn’t going to give you what you needed, you’ll take it.

You used your powers to break free from the webs making Peter’s eyes widened leaving him froze mouth agape in shock, you’ve never used your powers in bed before.

“I fucking warned you” you growled and flipped him on his back

“Y-Y/n/n?” he said in a small voice.

You ignored his “question” and asked…

“Is this okay?” You growled again.

“Y-Yes” He was shocked and to be honest he was excited about this, not knowing that someone having control of his body could turn him on this much.

“Good” you said simply

You used your powers again to hold his hips down and pin his wrists to the bed, leaving him helpless.

“So much fucking teasing, don’t you think Parker?”

The way you said his name did something to him, never calling him by his last name.

“Answer me!”

“Y-Yes! I’m sorry Y/N- lemme- lemme touch you!”

He was utterly impressed by how easily he turned into a submissive boy in no more than 2 minutes, he was probably more impressed than you.

Again you ignored him

“Safe word?” You asked sitting on his bulge rocking back and fort slowly

“Huh-? Uh- R-Red”

“Alright”

With that your hand wrapped around his throat, you were going to take what you deserve and watching him fall apart in the process was just a bonus.

“Naughty boy… You think you can tease me?” You breathed out enjoying the feeling of the way your pussy was humping his covered cock.

“Im sorry-“ his sentence getting interrupted by his own moans

“I’ll make you feel sorry Peter”

You started to rock back and fort faster and harder making Peter’s head to roll back and close his eyes, pleasure consuming every bone in his body.

“F-Fuck!”

He looked down to where your pussy humped his clothed cock, his boxers now soaked by your arousal, because after all you were dripping.

“y/n/n im close!” He cried, his toes curling and abs contracting.

“You’re close huh? You’re gonna cream in your boxers like the pathetic boy you are?” You were out of breath but seeing him fall apart was a reminder for you to not close your eyes.

“Y-Yeah!” his eyes closed and his mouth fell agape

“Look at me!” You snapped him out of his trance and his glassy eyes struggled to open

“Yes thats it… cum, cum for me” you growled, your nails digging in his chest.

“Im cumming!” He cried. His whole body tensing and trying to buck up his hips, obviously he couldn’t do it, he spilled in his boxers, his cock twitching and desperately chanting your name. The burning feeling of your nails on his chest adding to his pleasure it made him feel dizzy.

He had a beautiful fucked up expression, his body was sweaty and he had a glow all over him, the faint blush creeping all over his body, the tear stained cheeks and his cries were something you’ve never seen on him but hopefully after this you’ll see it more often.

“That’s it, you’re doing so well” you cooed, stroking his hair while he panted

When he came down from his high you were still there comforting him, tracing his features with your fingers with gentle motions, his mouth opened to say something but closed again.

“You good bubs?” You asked leaning towards his face.

“Y-yeah… I feel so good” you giggled at this his eye lids fluttering, his whole persona glowing with the post orgasmic glow. His mind was still hazzy.

He tried to lean in again and capture your lips but you backed leaving him desperate a pout all over his face, only making you chuckle.

“So needy” you said

“F-Fuck y/n i just want a kiss” his puppy eyes almost convincing you to give in, but whatever he wants he has to beg for it.

“Im sure you do”

“D-don’t be mean!” He cried, a small sob coming from his mouth

You kissed him hard to shush him, it was full of passion a messy kiss, his brows furrowed in concentration, he wasn’t used to not use his hands while kissing you, he tried to deepen the kiss and he succeeded for 3 seconds before you pulled away, leaving both of you breathless.

“You’re gonna give me another one” it wasn’t even a question, it was a statement.

“Huh?”

Before he could ask anything else you pulled down his sticky boxers and gripped his cock, making his breath caught in his throat.

“Y-Y/n” he croaked out

“Just one more”

“F-Fuck! I can’t- too sensit-ive”

“It’s okay baby we’ll go slow”

“O-kay”

You gripped his cock with a loose grip, enough to stimulate him and to have him on edge but not enough to make him cum.

“Faster please…” his voice small and weak

“No baby, you’ll take what i give you, do you understand?”

He nodded, completely under your control.

You used your other hand to massage his balls gently providing him more stimulation, his feet thrashing on the bed.

“Uh.. y/n/n im c-close again” he moaned as he closed his eyes

“Not yet honey” he whined, his previous orgasm triggering this one faster

“N-not gonna last long”

“Hold it.”

“B-but-“

“Hold it.”

He closed his eyes tightly trying to survive the sensation as his body tenses, your movements speeded up making him arch his back and his eyes rolled back.

“IM CUMMING!” He cried, he could taste his orgasm, the pleasure cursing through his body and before he could fall over the edge you moved your hand away, pinching his thigh.

“N-No!” He sobbed and cried softly as you giggled

“I-I was s-so close!” His cock twitched, angry and red leaking precum all over his stomach. To be honest you were fucking dripping and your clit begged to be touched, you wanted his swollen cock deep inside your pussy.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make you feel so good” you whispered in his ear making him shiver

Before his mind could fully register what was happening you hovered over him and positioned yourself on top of his cock.

Your grabbed his cock and he hissed then you slapped his tip on your clit repeatedly making you let out a mewl and it made Peter whine loudly.

“Ready baby?” You asked and he nodded

He nodded and you pushed his tip inside you

He threw his head back in ecstasy, he was so so turned on, the fact that you’re using him like a fuck toy to provide pleasure to yourself, using him like some fancy dildo arouses him like nothing else in the world.

Your eyes rolled back and you let out a loud moan squeezing him so so tight.

“Squeezing me just right!” He moaned

You were too lost in pleasure to hear him, his cock stroking your g-spot and you weren’t even moving yet.

“Gonna fuck that cocky attitude out of you” you whispered.

Peter moaned at your dirty words his toes curled again.

then you started riding him at a merciless peace, so fast, your butt smacking onto his thighs roughly making you cry out in pleasure

“Y/N!” His eyes widened, labored breaths coming out of him, you’ve never went this fast before.

You put you hands again on his chest pinching his nipple making him choke again, it gave you an idea, you wrapped your hand around his throat again while the other pinched his nipple.

“UH! So tight! And WET, AND AND WARM” He sobbed uncontrollably and you cried his name.

“I wanna- fucking slap you so- Fucking. HARD” you said between loud moans and cries, the frustration coming back again, reminding you how pissed you were at him for not letting you have what you wanted at the begging

“D-Do it!”

You didn’t need to be told twice, and your palm collided on his cheek making tears fall out from his eyes.

“YES!” His sobs were arousing you so much.

“IM SO CLOSE Y/N/N-“

Then you slapped him again

And again

And Again

His cheeks were red, eyes puffy from crying, his body was really tense.

Both of you were seeing stars, you were so close, then you started to rub fast circles over your clit.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Peter I’m gonna cum!”

“YES!”

“MOMMY!” He screamed spilling deep inside you, again your peace never stopped.

You were so close, so so close

Then you let go of his wrists and his arms hug you tightly his face on your chest while you keep riding him as fast as you can.

You looked down to see Peter hugging you so tightly his arms around your waist, his eyes are rolled back and his mouth is agape.

Then you feel it, the waves of pleasure crashed over you, you screamed his name and collapsed on top of him, you stroked his hair with shaky hands both of you trying to catch your breath

5 minutes later you heard him sniffle, never letting go of your waist.

“That was the best thing that has ever happened t-to me” he said weakly, too tired from the overwhelming pleasure

“I- I agree” you whispered rubbing circles on his back.

“Was I too rough?” You asked hiding your face on his neck.

“No, it was perfect” he started to kiss your shoulders and you rubbed his cheeks soothingly.

Then you pulled out carefully, he was in awe as he watched his cum spill from your pussy

“Wanna take a bath sweetheart?” You asked kissing all over his face

“Y-yeah” he croaked out and you guys made your way towards the bathroom

“I love you Peter”

“I love you more Y/N”

“Not possible”

“Oh darling, that’s something you can’t win”

“Just accept I love you more Pete”

“No! I love you more”

“Okay” you agreed

“Yay!” He hugged you as both of you starred at your reflex in the mirror, you noticed the red handprints on his cheeks.

“Im so sorry Pete” You said guilty kissing his cheek and rubbing the other with your finger tips

“Hey hey hey, that was literally the sexiest thing ever, I really enjoyed that”

“I know but-“

“Don’t even doubt that I won’t be asking you for more slaps again”

“You kinky spider”

“You freaky little thing” he whispered and pulled you into a kiss.

After taking a quick shower, Peter made dinner and you changed the sheets, and after a good session of aftercare, Peter fell asleep on top of you, you not far behind him.

#peter parker blurb #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker fluff #mcu!peter parker #peter parker x you #andrew garfield #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #tom holland #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x you #tobey maguire #tobey peter parker #tobey spiderman #tom holland smut

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frostandflamesfanfic · 2 years

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couch. (Peter Parker x Reader)

couch. (Rated G)

Request?: No...

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (wrote with Peter 3 in mind, but can be applied to any of our spidey boys)

Word Count: 1.7k+

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, I wrote this while being sleep deprived so there may be typos, Peter being just too gosh darn adorable

Summary: Inspired by "couch" by We Three- The best laid plans always work out right? On one lazy Saturday morning, Peter is contemplating how to start taking the next steps toward your future together. When you remind him how important it is to relax, does he stick with his big plan or learn to sometimes just to go with the flow?

We've got a lot of things to figure out

Like cash the checks and go workout,

But I think I'd rather sit here on the couch

“Peter?” your voice danced its way into the living room of his apartment. “Have you seen my hoodie? I can’t find it anywhere and I need to get to the bank to put in my paycheck.” You stumbled throughout the space, one hand rubbing at your sleep-riddled eyes. To Peter, there wasn’t a more beautiful sight to wake up to. You were dressed in a pair of his sweatpants and one of his old beat up t-shirts. He had lent you a pair of oversized socks, too, because you were complaining about your toes being cold under the covers the night before.

The brown-haired looked up from his spot on the oversized ripped sofa, where he was working on his laptop. He tilted his head to look at you with squinted eyes. The morning sun was streaming through the windows of his apartment in just the right (but also totally wrong and annoying) way. “Good morning to you, too, sweetheart,” he gave you the sweetest tight smile before directing his attention back to the screen. “Have you checked under the bed?”

He was supposed to be editing a series of images he snapped of Spider-Man over the last week. Was he actually doing that? No. He was actually looking up plane tickets to Bali. Why Bali? Because that’s where he wanted to be able to propose to you – the same place your parents met on a volunteer expedition. He had been saving for months. Not just for the trip, but the beautiful silver half-carat diamond ring that was burning a hole through its hiding place in his dresser drawer.

The two of you had been dating for a year or so now, which might seem a bit rushed to some people, but not for you or Peter. You had both seen your fair share of tragedy before you finally crossed paths. He had lost his parents as a child and the love of his life around the end of high school. He needed to start over completely. You lost your parents in a freak accident at a young age, not to mention your fiance merely weeks after beginning your new job at some corrupt company.

When you met on the subway, it almost seemed like the universe was trying to tell you something. There had been no seats left and the two of you were forced to stand face-to-face on opposite sides of the car after a series of delays. Not that Peter was complaining, though. You looked like a vision to him. From the way you anxiously shifted your weight from foot to foot, to the way you bit the middle of your bottom in concentration as you looked at your phone. He wished he would have had the courage right then and there to ask your name. Yet something stopped him.

For a subway ride, it had been a rather bumpy one. You had been pushed forward and fallen against him…twice. Each time you collided, he could feel your heartbeat thudding incredibly hard against his chest. He was surprised to discover that his heartbeat soon matched your rhythm and he gave a subtle grimace at the sweat gathering in his palm. He tried to get himself to talk to you, to even ask your name, but nothing escaped him. By the time you had reached Peter’s stop, he sighed as he ultimately gave up with the internal battle. He had no chance, Peter had assured himself. Then he heard you stammering behind him as he turned to walk toward the door.

“So how many times would I have needed to fall into you before you asked me out?” your voice called out.

It was safe to say Peter didn’t hesitate any more after that.

The next year was a beautiful rollercoaster. Peter had to pinch himself a few times to realize that this was real – you were actually his and he was yours. He didn’t need to worry about pretending to be someone he wasn’t. With you, he could let down his guard. You made him feel safe, loved…at home. He really hoped you would say yes to his proposal. He couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you.

The feeling of an added weight on the couch and something brushing against his arm caused Peter to be snapped from his thoughts. You were snuggling into his side, attempting to rest your chin atop his shoulder to look at his screen. In a panic, Peter minimized the tab and started to play around with a random image in his editing software. His quick thinking- and reflexes- came to the rescue again as you gave a small nod.

“That’s a nice shot,” you mumbled sleepily before yawning again. You rested your head against the side of his arm and smacked your lips like a small child. It always made Peter smile to see you like this. You reminded him of a little kid in this state, but always with this mushy personality.

He leaned over to press a kiss to your forehead before allowing himself to get fixated back on the image in front of him. “Thanks, sweetheart,” Peter answered. “I mean, it is my job right now, so…I hope I’m good at it.”

You gave a hum of agreement and nestled against his sitting frame. Another smile plastered itself against Peter’s lips as you tangled your legs with his. Your nose nudged at the back of his arm and you closed your eyes. “This is nice,” you said, stretching out just a bit more.

Peter nodded and let out his own sound of acknowledgement, expertly adjusting the saturation levels of the image.

We've got a lot of people we should see

And I know that we should get some groceries,

But honestly, I just don't want to leave

“We need cereal,” another mumble into his shirt sleeve. “And milk. And fruit. And eggs…”

A chuckle escaped Peter before he could prevent it. “We,” you had said. Slowly but surely, it wasn’t just his apartment anymore. Your stuff had begun to find its way into random drawers and closets in the space. Your toothbrush sat right next to his own in the bathroom. There was a shared grocery list stuck to his refrigerator with both of your handwriting on it. Even your shampoo was stored in the shower, its sweet vanilla scent flooding the room and making him relax every time he stepped inside. It smelled like you and he couldn’t get enough. He never thought he would be able to share his life with someone like this ever again, but he was beyond grateful he could.

“We can get them from the store on Fifth,” he said now, nodding a bit at the mental note he made to visit the shop. Martha, the shopkeeper, would be happy to see him there. She’d probably pester him about the fact he had yet to make you an honest person, but he honestly didn’t care. “You can take one of my hoodies when we go, if you want.”

You grunted. “Or…” you mumbled. “We could just stay here.” You snuggled closer into his side. “This is pretty perfect right now.”

Cause I'm here and you're there,

Breathin' in my air

Feel it stop, skip a beat

Peter moved his hand to toy with the ends of your hair, making you hum in delight. It was a sound that brought a smile to his face and a warm feeling in his heart. Everything you did was perfect to him and gave him so much joy. He loved how you felt in his arms, how good your hair smells after you get out of a shower…

“Marry me,” he said softly. Peter barely registered the words as they left his mouth, but deep down, he knew it was the right thing to do. This was the moment. Not some big vacation to Bali, nothing overly extravagant. All he needed was you, him, and this couch. The two of you were in your own little world and that was perfect.

“What?” you asked, sitting up ever-so-slightly.

“I want to marry you,” Peter was more confident now. “I want to wake up with you every day, I want to hold your hand in the grocery store. The days you’re having the best time, I want to be there. I want to hold you when you’re crying and having the worst day, tell you it’s okay and things will work out. I want to see you come down the aisle and we both are crying.” The two of you laughed at the last part. “Most of all, I just want to know that for every day for the rest of my life, you’re going to be in it. So please, marry me?”

“Peter…” you breathed out.

That’s when he realized something was missing. Something that was really…really important to this particular moment. “Actually,” he said, standing up suddenly before taking off to the bedroom, “hold on one second. Just…stay there. I have to get something.”

When he came back into the living room, he got down on one knee before you. His dark eyes searched yours as he opened the small velvet box to reveal the sparkling piece of jewelry. “I know it’s only been a year,” he said, “and I really should have had a much better speech planned out, but that’s just it. With you, I don’t have to plan. You make me want to be spontaneous, to be a person that doesn’t have a care in the world. But…I can only be that person with you. So, what do you say?”

You shook your head with a playful expression on your face. “It took you long enough,” you teased, giving him the slightest of nods with the largest of smiles threatening to appear. It was so bright, Peter was afraid he might go blind just looking at it for too long. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

As he slipped the ring on your finger, Peter pressed his lips to yours and nearly melted. You truly were his missing puzzle piece, his better half that he always was going to need. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you and he couldn’t wait to see what forever would hold.

On this couch, in my T

You're wearin' my sweatpants

Without a doubt, not goin' out

Let's stay on the couch

================

Author's Note: I have no self control. I swear, I cannot help myself when I hear a song and get a character scenario stuck in my head. This is the second time this has happened in the last few days, but this is first one I'm posting. I still need to work on the other one! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this little fluff piece with our lovable dork, Peter Parker. I thought this song was just perfect for him, even if it means doing something a bit different than my typical Strange fics.

As usual, if you liked this fic, leave a like, comment, and a cheeky reblog. It helps me out with the lovely algorithm and lets me know what kind of stories you like to see on my blog! And let me know which Peter YOU imagine this story to be about. I'm curious...

Until next time, little sparks! If you want to be added to any of my character taglists, drop me an ask or private message- I promise I'm really not that scary!

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beautifulbuckys · 2 years

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Midnight Phone Call (Peter Parker x GN!Reader)

Summary: You’re harboring feelings for close friend and classmate Peter Parker. But a few night time texts could possibly ruin the friendship.

Warnings: Some swearing, anxieties about unreciprocated feelings

A/N: Hi! This was a small blurb I wrote inspired by Can I Call You Tonight? by Dayglow! I watched NWH today and was in my Peter feels, so enjoy!

High school would be a drag if it wasn’t for Peter.

If Peter Parker weren’t sitting next to me in history, I’d forget to write my name on all my papers. He’s the one that saves me from hour-long chemistry homework. Peter Parker gives me charred brownies May made the night before because he thinks I needed them. He’d walk me to my classes even if he didn’t share the class with me.

But high school caused me to like Peter. High school causes me to have this overwhelming, full-blown crush on Peter. High school keeps Peter Parker around me almost all day 5 days a week. High school forces me to suffer because of my feelings.

It was exhausting.

For a while, I shoved the crush down. I wouldn’t let any of my happy, flirty thoughts reach my brain no matter how much I tried. I resisted reading into situations. Lately? If I don’t think of Peter at least once a minute I’d be worried my brain shut down. There have been so many different situations in the past week that have been too close for comfort. By that, I mean, too coincidental for the said situation to happen between friends.

Last week for instance.

During lunch period, the cafe was loud and rowdy. This was nothing new for Midtown. Except for the craziness this week was caused by the new cupcakes the lunch ladies were serving. Almost everyone in the school had purchased one. Who could blame them? The chocolate goodness frosted with rich cream cheese ice cream was too good to turn up. Both Peter and I got one. We’d heard good things from the previous lunch block!

Peter finished his cupcake almost instantly. He’d basically swallowed the whole cupcake in one bite. I, however, was a slower eater. I’d barely finished my regular lunch by the bell. Midtown has a strict rule, however, that you can’t eat outside of class. Although I paid 50 cents for the cupcake, I’d be damned if I was going to waste it. I shoved the rich, chocolatey goodness in my mouth and chewed it on my way to class with Peter.

However, once we got to calculus, Peter glanced over at me. A boyish grin spread across his face.

“Hey,” He nudged me with his elbow. The soft cotton of his long sleeve rubbed my bicep causing me to jump a little.

I looked at him, the bell ringing. “What?”

His smile never left his face. “You got a lil’ something,” Peter pointed to the right side of my face. His pointing was vague so I placed my hand on my cheek. “No. Not there. Here, I’ve got it.” Peter his hand to the corner of my lip and wiped off a smudge of bright pink frosting I had sitting on my face with his thumb. He then brought his thumb to his mouth and sucked the small bit of frosting off of it. Once he was satisfied, he removed the appendage from his mouth with a small pop.

“Oh…thanks,” The heat I felt on my face was unbearable. I couldn’t look at Peter for the rest of the class. Riddle me flustered.

Now, I lay staring at my calcium-stained ceiling at 12:30 in the morning with nothing other than my thoughts. That was too much to bear. It was a Friday night. Everyone with a social life from Midtown was out partying at Flash’s house. I was sure of it. It was almost a weekly routine at this point. Nobody talks to each other in class but once schools out…major parties happen and then the cops are called.

Not Peter though.

He’s always awake at this time. Not partying, that’s not really his scene. His reason was unexplained. Whenever I asked, he’d say he was studying for a quiz or test coming up. I knew he was lying though. We share most classes, so when there was a quiz I’d know. At this point, I’ve chalked it up to being something personal for him. I’m not going to force it out of him. Especially if he’s this adamant about not telling me.

12:37l Hey…you up?

A typing bubble on Peter’s behalf popped up immediately. He was a fast responder. If I ever needed anything, big or small, I could text him and count on him replying fast.

PI 12:37I Yeah. What’s up?

Well. Shit. I didn’t really think this through. I had no plan. I needed a plan for something like this. It’s sad that I do. Before I realized I had these feelings for Peter, I could talk to him about anything at any time. But now? I can’t get two sentences in without stuttering. He’ll reply to things I say and I’ll always, without fail, find a way to read into his response. Finding a hidden meaning. It’s a blessing and a curse.

12:39I Can I call you?

I throw my phone down and rapidly stand up once I press send. This shouldn’t be so stressful. Should it? I’ve never had a serious crush before. Let alone on a close friend. What if this ruins the entire friendship? What if May doesn’t like me? Well, she’s already met me. She seems to like me. Unless she secretly despises me. Does she secretly despise me? Is she using her kindness as a ruse? I’m pacing around my room, hands on my hips. My pajama shorts were falling down due to all the movement, despite them being tied. Was it kind of annoying? Yeah. But the butterflies in my stomach were trumping that slight annoyance.

Focus.

The calm facade of sirens and car honks in New York City was disturbed by the happy chirping of my phone. I froze in place from my pacing. I felt like a deer in headlights. Do I let it ring through? No. I shouldn’t. I’m the one that asked Peter to call. You did this to yourself. Follow through.

It took me a moment to find my phone. Due to me launching up from my bed, it was tangled in the jungle that was my comforter. I was only able to find it due to my phone screen turning on with each ring.

Don’t be a pussy.

I swipe the green ‘answer’ button on my cracked screen. “Hello?”

“Hi!” Peter’s voice boomed through the speakers. He was far too cheery and energetic for it being 12:40 in the morning. Or maybe I’m being far too critical and gloomy. Yet, I can’t be mad at his happy tone. Hearing his voice, even if we were just on a phone call, made me feel far less alone “Did you see the moon tonight? Look out your window. It’s gorgeous tonight.”

I obliged to Peter’s request. He was right. The large, white figure truly illuminated New York City’s skyline. The glow of the moon reflected off of the small stream by my house. It was a picture-perfect moment.

“Yeah, it is.”

Peter cleared his throat. “So, what’s got you up late? Something has gotta be on your mind if you asked to call.” Peter whispered. Besides his initial greeting, Peter kept quiet on our rare phone calls. May doesn’t like him up too late. She isn’t super strict about it. However, her room was right next to his and their walls were nearly paper thin. She valued her sleep and didn’t want it interrupted by Peter’s lousy conversation skills.

I took a deep breath. “Honestly, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Well, you’ve got me on the phone. I can read you a story if you’re struggling to sleep? I know you never finished the Harry Potter series. I could read you the books that you left off on?” Peter offered. Lord, if only Peter Parker knew how fluttery that offer made you feel. “Or maybe I can read you one of those freaky Edgar Allen Poe poems MJ loaned me. I’ve been too scared to get through them alone. You’re the person I need to push myself to read them.” “I love you.” I blurted.

And then hung up. Smart thinking! Go me!

Peter instantly tried to call me back. My phone screen turned on once more, showing the picture of Peter and I at NY Comic Con from last fall. His dorky smile paired with his lame Luke Skywalker cosplay was enough to have me immortalize the picture as my lock screen. I huffed. Was that a good idea? Probably not. Definitely not. Yet, I did it. With no thought about the consequences. Christ, school on Monday was going to be awkward. I waited around a minute, allowing the call to ring through. I didn’t touch my phone for another 5. I was mortified. Frozen in place, still standing where I was when I accepted Peter’s first call. I was staring at the wall, waiting for something crazy to happen. Maybe this was a dream? I’d wake up in 5…4…3…2..,1…I look down at my arms and see them still holding my phone. Shit. This is reality.

Maybe Doctor Strange can magic me out of this?

My phone buzzes once more. It’s not a phone call this time, though. It’s a text. Nobody else is awake, besides the Midtown partiers who I don’t talk to. I’m not making enough noise for it to be either one of my parents texting me to quiet down. That meant it must be Peter. Amazing! Being let down over text would be a nice memory to tell my 50 cats when I’m 90 and rotting away.

PI12:49I Don’t go and leave me so easy :(

My phone buzzed again.

PI12:50I You didn’t even let me reply dickhead.

I have to deal with the consequences. I open the texts, seeing the previous messages from the day we’ve shared. After a deep breath, I pressed the call button on the top right of the screen. The call rang once before Peter answered.

“I love you too, idiot.”

I smiled. “I’m glad I called you tonight.”

I heard a slight chuckle on the other end. “Me too,”

#peter parker #spiderman #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #reader #reader x peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #andrew garfield #tobey maguire #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu fan fic

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 11 months

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Marvel Fics

Bittersweet Tragedy (Completed)

Summary: The Spider-Man from your universe wasn't a hero. He was a villain and he killed your family.

After getting revenge for their death, you get pulled into an alternative universe where you come face-to-face with three different Spider-Men and your entire world gets turned upside down.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: language, blood, injury, death, suicidal thoughts

Protector (Completed)

Summary: Eddie Brock was your cute mysterious neighbour. The two of you never really crossed paths, but when a creepy man followed you back to your apartment, you knock on Eddie's door for help.

Pairing: Eddie Brock x Fem!Reader

Trigger Warning: Attempted sexual assault. Nothing is written in detail and not much really happens, but there is a male being a dickhead and trying to take advantage of Y/N.

Barely Breathing (Completed)

Summary: When Steven asks why you're wearing long sleeves on a hot day, Marc quickly fronts because he knows exactly what you are hiding on your wrists.

Pairings: Steven Grant x Reader & Marc Spector x Reader

Trigger Warning: Self-harm, blood, cuts (no actual description of doing it, just the aftermath)

Main MASTERLIST

#marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #spider man x reader #peter parker x you #eddie brock x reader #marc spector #steven grant #moon knight #marc spector x you #steven grant x y/n #tom hardy #oscar isaac #andrew garfield #tom holland #tobey maguire

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moon-rivr · 3 months

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imagine Peter on a date with Mj but he forgot that the date night was “that” night of his “monthly man spider Shenanigans” so either there’s a werewolf moment or he slowly mutates.No worry Mj doesn’t get hurt they’ll reinvent the date

later time

pairing: peter parker x mary jane reader

contents: hair color specified (red), reassurance, and mutation (fur, fangs, and eight eyes 🥸)

author’s note: so i wasn’t sure what version of peter you wanted so i went ahead and just used tobey’s (sorry if that’s not what you wanted)

word count: 3.4k

The world seemed to disappear beneath your feet as you moved across the stage, the lights accentuating every movement that you made. All that mattered in this moment was you and the scene, that strive for perfection that you needed so badly. The weeks that you spent at your vocal coach's office proving themselves in this very moment. Every line that you delivered had the right amount of inflection, every line spoken with just enough volume that even those in the back could hear. Your movements halted as the music stopped, at the mercy of what the director would say about your performance.

"No," the director told you out flatly, the smile on your face fading away slowly. The clapping from the other aspiring actors quickly dimmed down at your rejection. The words didn't materialize in your head until you looked around to see that the rest of the cast was looking at you expectantly, a look of pity painted on their features. "Excuse me?" You asked, a bit dumbfounded as you stood in place. “I said no. We have plenty of girls like you. We're looking for someone younger, maybe someone blonde," the director didn't bother looking up this time before calling out the next person on stage.

After basically being forced to make your way off from the stage, you found yourself walking down Broadway. the path back home ignited a hollow feeling inside of you, seeing everyone's name up on the posters hanging on the wall except for your own. You should be used to this kind of rejection, since it's what you've managed to make of yourself during the multiple castings you've gone to. No matter how many times you got told no though, you couldn't help but feel the fresh sting coursing through your veins at knowing that you weren't good enough. You weren't good enough for your dad, not for the casting directors, and certainly not for Broadway.

Your attention was derived from the thoughts running through your head when you heard some cheering in the background, your eyes focusing on the swinging vigilante saving a kid from a burning building. The crowd burst out into cheers as spider-man set down the kid onto the pavement, a woman running over to the child and wrapping her arms around him in a protective matter. "Oh thank you, Spider-Man! You saved my little boy!" the woman exclaimed, tears streaming down her face from the sheer joy and shock running through her body. The praise flew straight to Peter's head, eagerly hugging the woman back after she'd embraced him.

You knew that you shouldn't feel this way, shouldn't feel jealous for all the attention that he received from the public. It'd taken Peter a while to stop being seen as a public menace to be seen as someone who wants to save the city. But you couldn't help feel a bit bitter at the recognition that he got from the people of New York, the way that they cheered him on like he was their idol. It only made you long for that feeling of being admired, of being the reason that someone gets excited. You shook your head as if that would get rid of the thoughts clouding your mind, making your way back home after the excitement of the scene died down.

"I got an alert that there was a pretty lady needing my help around here," you heard from above you, your boyfriend swinging upside down as he looked at you. "Really? Wonder where she is," you responded, coming closer to him as you slid his mask up to his nose. You hadn't seen Peter in a while due to your conflicting schedules, you with your acting career and him busy with school and his photography gig. He came down to the ground, holding you close to his body before sticking to a wall as a method to get back home faster. No matter how many times you do this, the sensation of being up in the air and looking down at everyone was something you'd never really get used to.

Peter set you down at the living room, sliding off his mask and starting to take off his suit. "How'd it go at the auditions? I’ve heard you rehearsing a couple times but I didn't wanna bother you," Peter inquired out of the blue, the rejection now making a forefront at the center of your brain. "Well, I got rejected. The director said I'm not exactly what they're looking for," you responded, sitting down on the couch as you rubbed your temples. You could tell that Peter was growing exhausted from being the primary provider between the two of you, since you didn't get a 9-5 job just in case an audition would open up just for you. Despite the exhaustion that he felt, he'd never say anything to discourage you from what made you happy.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll get your big break sometime soon," he told you as he sat down next to you, holding your hands in his own. "I just don't get what i'm doing wrong. I put my all into that performance and he said I wasn't good enough because I wasn't blonde," you told Peter, a couple tears making themselves known as they streaked your cheeks. "It's his fault for not recognizing your talent, MJ. You're perfect the way you are to me, red hair and all," he whispered, his thumb rubbing small circles on your hands. He wiped your tears away with his other hand, simply holding you until you felt better.

"I'll see you later, I have to get to class before they mark me absent again," Peter spoke up after a while, rushing to change into his streetwear. You stayed seated on the couch, looking at him as he went through the motions of getting dressed. "Do you resent me in any way?" You asked him quietly, his gaze going from the belt he was trying to buckle to your eyes. "Of course not. You're going for something that you want, I could never resent you for that," he answered you, leaning over and kissing your forehead before he grabbed his backpack. You were left at square one, having to look through different casting calls and calling the few actor friends that you'd made throughout the journey.

After a few calls, you'd come up with no results or rejection under the prose that directors were simply searching for someone else. You buried your head into your pillow to wallow over the mess that your career had turned out to be, willing yourself not to burst out crying for the second time today. Just when you were thinking about running off to a farm and raising a couple cattle to make for a profit, your phone rang in your pocket. "Hello?" Your voice came out muffled as you answered the call, expecting it to be Peter or Aunt May. "Mary-Jane Watson, right?" The director from earlier asked, already sounding unimpressed with the way this conversation was headed.

"Yeah, that's me," you managed to answer after a couple seconds, pulling the pillow off from your face and straightening yourself out as if he could tell your appearance wasn't exactly Broadway worthy right now. "So, the actress that's playing Maisie called in to say she has pneumonia. The role's yours if you wanted it, the character description fits you pretty well and it's still a pretty big supporting character," the director told you, a bit of excitement and disappointment combined flaring you up at the prospect. "Uh, sure, I can do that. When do rehearsals start?" You asked him, making a mental note of all the details that he was giving you. You were excited to have the chance to act on the big stage but you wished that it wouldn't be because someone was out sick.

Peter came back home a couple hours later, coming over to kiss your cheek once he set his backpack down. "Hey, how'd your afternoon go?" He inquired, sitting down on the couch next to you as his hand rests on your knee. "It was alright, I called in to a couple friends but they said that there weren't any rehearsals available," you responded, leaning against him a bit. "Don't stress out too badly about it, something will show up before you know it," he told you, his thumb circling around your knee. "Well, about that actually. The director from earlier called and said that i could have a role in the play. Not the role I wanted, but a role's a role," you added after a couple seconds, watching as Peter grinned down at you.

"That's amazing MJ! We should go out and celebrate," Peter told you with a smile, clasping your hands in between his. You wanted to tell him that there was nothing to be celebrated, that you were simply just a second option. That you were just taking scraps from what another actress couldn’t have. But instead, you chose to swallow those words and nod meekly at him at the suggestion. "Okay, that sounds good. Do you have someplace in mind?" You asked Peter, forcing yourself to act excited about the prospect of the dinner. "Well, I was thinking that maybe we could out to that restaurant that just opened up downtown," he replied, the place making you feel a bit nervous. You knew that you and Peter's economic status wasn't exactly the best, but you weren't gonna say anything that might embarrass him.

You simply nodded along to the suggestion, smiling as Peter kissed your forehead. "I'm just gonna go out on patrol to make sure that everything's okay before we out and relax. Is that okay with you?" He told you, waiting for you to approve before he went to put on the spidersuit. You were pretty sure he would've gone even if you said no, but he still liked to have the assurance that you'd be okay with it. You figured you still had a couple hours before he came back, choosing to go over the new lines that you'd been assigned. While rehearsals didn't start until next week, you didn't want to appear unprepared after already being the last resort.

"Hey MJ, wake up," you heard a faint voice in the background, Peter already having changed from his spidersuit into a formal suit. It was an odd sight to see him dressed up, so you took a couple moments to let the sight sink in before you stood up. "Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep. I’m just gonna go and take a quick shower before we go," you told him, stepping off to the bathroom to hurry up and get ready. You'd fallen asleep while you were going through the process of highlighting your lines, some of the ink apparent on your cheek. You washed it off, getting in the shower to start the notions of getting ready. Despite the initial reluctance that you'd had about going out tonight and spending money, you couldn't deny that it was exciting to get dolled up.

You picked out a green dress for the night, the color matching the color of your hair perfectly. After taking your hair out of the towel, you dried it out before curling it in a beach wave style. You walked out of the bedroom after putting on a pair of heels and doing something light for your makeup, looking up at peter with a smile on your face. "How do I look?" You asked him, doing a small twirl. He walked over and wrapped his arms around your waist, just enjoying the comfort of being in your embrace for a couple seconds. Your relationship with peter had been nothing short of difficult, with the amount of breakups the two of you had under your belt, but you couldn't help but enjoy these moments between the two of you. Perhaps that's why you kept coming back for more.

"You look stunning, like someone that's definitely made for Broadway," he finally spoke up after a couple seconds, stepping back to extend his hand towards you. You grabbed his hand, following him out of the apartment. "Alright, grab on. The subway's delayed today," Peter spoke up, letting you hold onto him before he took off swinging. What would've been an hour long trip and three different subways turned into a fifteen minute adventure between the two of you. You fixed up your hair after the wind had messed it up a bit, following Peter inside the restaurant. "Hi, I have a reservation for Parker. two," Peter told the woman at the front, the two of you waiting as she scrolled through her computer to confirm.

"Alright, follow me," the waitress told the two of you, taking two menus off a stand before leading you two outside. "You'd requested a table outside, right?" The waitress asked to confirm, being met with Peter's curt nod as he pulled the chair back for you. You sat down and grabbed your menu, starting to look through the options. You couldn't help but notice just how expensive everything was at this place, your eyes drifting up from the menu up to Peter. "You sure we can afford to eat here?" You asked him quietly, not wanting to get anyone else's attention. "I wouldn't have brought you here if I couldn't afford it. Just order whatever you want without worrying about the price."

The waitress came back with the drinks the two of you had ordered, setting them down before taking out a notepad. "What would the two of you like to order?" she asked, tapping her pen against the notepad. You gave her your order first, Peter speaking up after you did. "Sounds good, I'll be back with your orders," she responded, grabbing the menus from the two of you before retreating back into the restaurant. "So how's it been going with your boss? Is Mr. Simmons still giving you a hard time?" You asked, taking a sip from your drink as you waited for his response. "Somewhat, though it's not really directed towards Peter Parker but Spider-Man instead. Really hates that guy," he responded, going on to ask you about the rehearsal you had lined up.

Peter's eyes turned into a dark shade of red in the blink of a moment, his jaw clenching tightly. It was hard to comprehend how'd he just gone from having a conversation to going into this sort of.. metamorphosis. He'd transformed into something completely foreign to you in just the span of a couple seconds, the moonlight behind the two of you only making seem to process speed up even faster. His face was now covered up in fur, fangs poking out of his mouth, and his eyes had multiplied by four. He blinked a couple times, like he wasn't sure if this was a dream or it was happening in actuality. You reached over to touch him, only to get rejected before your hand even reached him. "No, don't touch me. I'm a monster," he mumbled, his fangs obstructing most of his mouth.

Despite his current state, you could feel the embarrassment radiating off his body as he flipped the table over in a frenzy to walk away. You left behind money for the two drinks and a tip before the waitress got a chance to come back. "Sorry about the table!" You called out before taking off running in the general direction Peter had taken in. He'd managed to get away in the time you'd done the task, leaving you to look around in a frenzy for him. You approached him slowly once noticing him in an alleyway, the way that one would to a stray dog. You bent down to his level, taking his now furry hand into your own.

"Hey, it's okay. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You're not a monster," you spoke quietly, wanting to give him some reassurance about the situation. "I'm sorry I ruined the dinner, I should've known but I've been so stressed out and caught up with all these things that I forgot," he spoke up, his voice coming out a bit garbled from the elongated fangs. "It's just a dinner, we can make it up. Come on, let's go home and wait for this to wear off," you told him, getting up and extending your hand to help him. He seemed to be doing better this time around, grabbing your hand as he got up from the dirty floor. The discarded dinner was the last thing on your mind at the moment, all you cared about was getting Peter somewhere he felt comfortable being.

The two of you took an alternative way home to avoid attracting anyone's attention, the way back home silent apart from a couple crickets chirping in the background. "So.. how long has this been going on?" You asked him after a while, wanting to understand more about his situation. "It's been going on since the symbiote morphed with me, usually I am aware of the calendar of when the symptoms come back. But I've been busy working extra shifts to take you out to dinner," he responded after a couple seconds, making you feel slightly guilty for how hard he's been pushing himself. "I'll get a job if it doesn't work out this time," you promised him, being met with eight eyes in response.

"You're not gonna do that, you're not gonna give up on what you want," he whispered, making you feel comfortable despite the state he was in. All the initial jealousy that you felt towards him faded away at seeing what he truly dealt with as Spider-Man, that he was much more miserable than he liked to portray. "Is there anything I can do to make this process easier for you?" You asked him, handing him a bottle of water from the fridge. "It doesn't hurt or anything, all there is to wait it out. I am a bit hungry though," he responded, almost sounding a bit guilty that he was burdening you with the mess. "I'll make you something, just sit there a sec."

You walked into the kitchen and put the skills that you'd attained working at the diner, making him a grilled chicken sandwich with a couple of fries. You set down the plate for him, sitting down on the opposite side. An idea occurred to you in that moment, grabbing a candle that you'd bought earlier this month during a sale and lighting it up between the two of you. "It's not a fancy dinner, but it'll do for now," you spoke up when he looked up from his plate, taking a bite out of your sandwich. "Thank you. for being understanding about all this. I know it's not everyday that you see your boyfriend turn into a man-spider."

"Well it's a nice change from Spider-Man," you responded light-heartedly as you dipped your fries into ketchup. The dinner between the two of you was nicer that you could've imagined, despite the fact that it didn't end the way you thought it would've. You stayed by his side throughout the whole process, watching intently just in case he had the urge to go outside or anything. he held you in his embrace, the fur covering his body adding to his body warmth as he made you comfortable. "It's almost Harry's anniversary," he spoke up after a while, his voice sounding somber. "We'll go out to the cemetery and put some roses down. Just worry about yourself right now," you told him, your hand intertwined with his. "I love you. I'm sorry I don't tell you often."

"I know. Your actions speak louder than you do," you told him, slowly starting to doze off just from how comfortable and at peace you were in that moment. Peter stayed quiet after you said that, his hand gently tracing up and down your arm as the two of you slowly started to grow more sleepy. "I love you too, by the way. I never tell you that enough and I'm sorry for the way that I act towards you," you told him, wanting to convey just how much you cared about him in this moment given how vulnerable he was. "I know, don't worry. Your actions are pretty loud too."

#moon-rivr #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #tobey maguire #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fic #mary jane watson #peter x mary jane #peter x mj #tobey maguire spiderman #peter parker fluff #spiderman fluff

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oddlykilledghosts · 1 year

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Just Thought I’d Drop In - Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Late and lost on your first day of work as a journalist at the Daily Bugle (J. Jonah Jameson will have to store up on cough drops and tea to protect that voice of his from yelling at you too much) you are saved by Spider-Man before getting mugged for your prize laptop

🕷️You and Peter are both freshly out of college! A little more comic based and general than solely about what we’ve seen in just one of the screen adaptations, so feel free to imagine any of the Spider-boy actors as our leading man here 🕷️

✎another idea I revamped and rewrote so hopefully you guys like it!

Word Count: 4.4k

Pairings: Spider-Man x reader, Peter Parker x reader

There were a lot of things that went wrong on the streets of New York City. And, sure, a big number of them caused the (somewhat secret) population of vigilantes and superheroes to call the concrete jungle their home. But a common trouble, you had found, was not its residents getting lost. Everyone had told you, over and over, it’s a grid system. It’s not hard. You’ll be fine, they would muse happily, never really knowing how deep your lack of direction went. But you were the one who wanted to move to New York during college, live out your dreams and become a journalist for the big apple. Really though, at the moment as you wandered the streets, all you could hear was your mom’s words echoing and bouncing around in your head. She’d warned you a multitude of times that superheroes just meant more trouble, and NYC attracted them like magnets. You had countered that superheroes protected people from crime, it just seemed like there was more of it because they brought it to light. Even so, in the present, the sun was shining brightly overhead as you let the idea of being a headline yourself slip from your mind as you used your phone to try and navigate yourself back into the right direction of your job.

It was your first day at the Daily Bugle as a real journalist. At least you hoped it would be, if you could find the way to get there. Your new apartment didn’t seem that far from the building when you had scoped it out beforehand, but now it seemed that you had miscalculated. Trailing the street signs, your eyes finally fell back upon your phone, trying to think of where you had unfortunately ended up. It had to be around here somewhere, you thought to yourself miserably. You put in the address again, just to be sure. Then, as you pressed the “go” button (for what felt like the fiftieth time that day with all the wrong turns you had made) your phone pinged and a monotone voice resembling a British woman told you to take a right. And a second later, nothing, the voice sputtering and fading as the screen on your phone blinked out.

Great, you thought. Just the perfect time for your phone to die.

Yeah, you were definitely going to be late.

Cold air whipped across your face as you pulled your jacket tighter around yourself and looked up from the dead brick the device in your hand had become. The wind had picked up suddenly and your hair flew wildly into your face as you looked around at your surroundings. Great, you thought for the second time, it wasn’t familiar at all. You thought back to your phone and how far it said the destination was. Was it fifteen minutes or fifty? You couldn’t have been that far off the mark. Yes, you had wanted to try a new coffee shop that you had seen the other day and that had been a mile or so off the course, but it couldn’t have thrown you off that much. As you continued to look around, the streets that appeared normally busy were now empty in comparison. Only a few millings of people were walking around busily.

"Excuse me." Said a low, dark gravelly tone. The voice that spoke didn’t sound very polite, contrary to its choice of words, and your heart sank to the soles of your feet. Maybe your mom had been right, (about a lot of things but) mostly that you should’ve roomed with that one friend of yours. You could’ve walked to work together. Made a morning out of it. Would’ve been a lot safer that way since crime had gone up the past couple of months. You always brushed it off and told her she watched too much of the news. Says the reporter.

Hesitantly, you turned around to face the gruff voice and it seemed laughable how much his appearance had matched your imagination. Classic depiction of one of Wilson Fisk's thugs. The city was crawling with them. Honestly, the news outlets were over their head in reporting what Fisk was doing to the city (which was partly why you had gotten the open position at the Daily Bugle). It also didn’t help that it wasn’t a secret that Fisk liked to threaten reporters. Even so, the man in front of you didn't seem as sophisticated as Fisk’s guys were usually described (but were never actually caught on camera). Maybe just a regular thug, you thought. For a second your mind even had the faintest idea that this would make a great story for the Bugle. Crime Hitting SkyRocket Heights As Reporter Gets Assaulted In Broad Daylight, the title could read. No, you decided, maybe that’s a little long. It would have to be worked into something more catchy.

He wasn't very tall and he didn't even look as scary as he could’ve. You could even tell that he had cut himself shaving that morning on his left cheek. Maybe you could take him, you thought. You had your wits and were quick enough. Then your heart sped up as adrenaline slowly entered your bloodstream, stopping only slightly as you glanced down and saw the gun in his hands. Your idea flatlined slowly with an incessant tone in your head that told you to get out of there.

Trying your best to sound tough, you lowered your voice and held your own, "What do you want?"

He nodded his head towards your bag. Your eyes widened. Your laptop. Everything…practically your whole life was on that device. Including the story that had gotten you hired. An exposé on Spider-Man defeating one of Fisk’s hideouts. The appliance would’ve been sold for a pretty penny too. Your parents had given it to you for graduating and getting the journalist job. It was priceless to you, but you were sure the thug in front of you could find a price that fit his needs.

You let out a nervous chuckle as your eyebrows furrowed, "I don't think so." Were you really ready to die because of a laptop? Your boss, J. Jonah Jameson, would’ve probably liked to think you were ready to lay it all on the line for the story on the ‘spider-menace’ that was stored there. You hadn’t given Jameson the whole thing, obviously, and if this guy wiped your laptop clean the story and the evidence you had found would be gone forever.

If you had been sure the man in front of you could’ve been one of Fisk’s goons, you would’ve been more suspicious at his inherent knowledge of you having something valuable in your bag. The evidence you had on Fisk could blow the case wide open. But muggings happen every day in New York. Maybe you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Definitely the wrong time though, as you were still late to work.

He raised his gun towards your face, hiding it partially in his long jacket sleeves, and backed you towards an alley between two shops on the street you were on. At the end of the stretch was a saddening dead end. It seemed to glare at you as a disappointing parent would. "Sweetheart, let's not do something we’ll regret."

"Don't." You backed away, staring him in the eyes all the way, and then stopped when your back finally hit the wall. "Call me." What were you getting yourself into? "Sweetheart."

You saw his fingers twitch towards the trigger. I'm going to die as an idiot, you thought, a big fat idiot who thought that I could fist fight a guy with a gun. You closed your eyes, now clutching your messenger bag with all the life you were about to lose, and readied yourself for the inevitable blow.

Thwip

After a few seconds of squeezing your eyes shut, thinking that the bright lights you saw behind your eyelids were the sweet, sweet afterlife…the end never came. Surprised, you slowly opened up your eyes. The gun was gone and yet the mugger’s arm was still aimed forward at you as if he was about to play a mean game of pretend (maybe a fitting game of Cops and Robbers). You followed his gaze, which had become less intimidating and more disoriented, where his eyes were now looking up towards the roof of the building behind you.

Thwip

And with a single blink, you almost missed it. The thief flew into the air and was covered with webs, conveniently sticking him to the side of the building parallel to you. And then, as if by a woosh of fresh air he was suddenly replaced by a familiar masked face you had used in almost all of your work. Spider-Man.

The spider landed in front of you, gracefully bracing the impact, and looked at you through his mask. It was unfortunate that you couldn’t read his expression through the material, but watched as he went to cross his arms and lean against the wall opposite you, "Lucky I got here in time, got yourself in quite the mess there.” His voice was jokingly cocky, but somehow pleasant. It touched somewhere in your memory receptors, as if you had heard it in familiarity before. Witnesses had said this before, that the amazing Spider-Man acted as if though the people he saved and himself were already close comrades. Maybe that was it. Also to experience someone you had recently written about talking to you so casually threw you off. Someone who had also been able to take down too many to count of Fisk’s thugs…easily.

“I could’ve handled it.” You said, jutting your chin out. Then realizing self-consciously, you finally let go of the death grip you had on your bag and straightened up your posture to one with more confidence. Mental notes started flurrying in your brain and you were struggling to capture every detail. This had to be a story. A first hand account, relayed through the Daily Bugle. Jameson would go crazy. And whilst that may be true, it wasn’t like you could whip out a notebook in front of the guy and start taking notes on what he was like up close without seeming like a complete and utter psycho. Every blink acted, to you, like the shutter of a camera. Hopefully, you would be able to remember this all later.

He held his hands up and laughed, “Didn’t say you couldn’t.”

“Tomato Tomahto.” You ignored the fact that he was right. You most definitely needed his help and weren’t surprised at how very thankful you were for the fact that he had been there to save your life. But with the shock that still pulsed through your heart, you stayed quiet. In such a quick moment, you’d thought you would be dead. And yet, here you were talking to a superhero.

“You work for the Daily Bugle, right?” Spider-Man asked naturally, as if it was information everyone knew.

“How’d you know that?” A pause while you thought, eyeing the not so obvious Daily Bugle patch on your bag, “I’m barely official.” Your heart in your chest, still pumping vigorously with a rush, skipped one beat and then continued.

“Do you want me to say I’ve got eyes everywhere, or that I just happen to keep my eyes on reporters who have their eye on me?” So Spider-Man knew who you were. He probably even knew of your first story you ever did on him, back when you were still in college. You shuttered, it wasn’t badly written, it just needed more concrete facts. Hopefully, you were wrong and Spider boy here just knew about you and the sensitive information you had gathered on Fisk that corroborated his takedown. With luck, he didn’t have extensive knowledge on all the stories you had written about him in your so far, short career.

“You know a way to get there? I got lost." A pause. "Laugh all you want.” Plainly, you admitted this. It was better than lying at least. But you squinted at him, as if to try and read his face better (albeit through the mask).

The guy behind the mask chuckled, happy to oblige to your latter statement, “I don’t even want to think about how you managed to get this lost.”

“So you know where it is.” You huffed. Of course Spider-Man knew where it was, J. Jonah Jameson practically hated him and revered him as a danger to society as we know it. Keep your ‘enemies’ close, as they say.

Spider-Man pretended to check his watch, “You’re way past late, but I bet I can make up for it.” There was an obvious smirk laced in with his words, even through his mask.

“What are you-aaaAAAHHHHHAH-” Before you could say more, the infamous spider grabbed your hand and pulled you close to him, shooting a web up to the top of the buildings and towards the sky. Your breath hitched and your heart hammered in your head as it looped around your body, but your eyes stayed open wide as you watched New York hum around you in a blur. You had seen this on TV, him swinging around the city, but experiencing it was slightly more terrifying. Suddenly, with each dip you gripped onto the superhero with more and more vigor, hoping that your fingers weren’t clawing into his back too hard. He said a few things while in the air, but it was muffled out through the wind and through you being much too anxious to be able to listen properly. You’re sure though, at first, that he had asked if you were okay.

All of a sudden, you had to keep blinking to believe it was true. That, and to keep bugs from flying into your eyes. It felt like a whole different New York, happening and unfolding so quickly around you. Each dip from the swing caused you to hear snippets of loud conversations and honking of cars and police radios going off. And then when you were closer to the tops of the sky scrapers, it all quieted and peace surrounded the air. But it was all New York. It was all alive. However much fear this was causing your heart, you wanted to experience this forever. It felt accelerating, and like nothing you had ever undergone before.

And then suddenly the movement stopped and you were still holding on to the masked vigilante, with your face hiding in his shoulder after making its way there during the swinging around New York bit. After a beat, he finally said, “You can let go now, we’re on what appears to be pretty solid ground.”

A warmth crept into your cheeks, and you were suddenly glad the icy winds had picked up again to hide your blush, as you unattached yourself from the hero and stepped onto the building’s open roof. “Sorry.”

“Happens to new web-slingers all the time, don’t sweat it.” He said this charmingly, as if it were true that this was a normal occurrence. A little smile crept onto your lips as you decided to take his word for it, thinking about whether or not the Daily Bugle’s readers would like to know that Spider-Man took people for joyrides (joy-swings?). You would add for his benefit that this was only in dire situations, of course.

As you looked at the new setting you had stepped onto, you realized you were on top of a building. The press building where the Daily Bugle now operated out of. Instead of acting shocked in a ‘this doesn’t seem real way’, you asked jokingly, “Was I really that far away? It seemed like an awful lot of…what did you call it web sw-”

“Web-slinging.” Spider-Man finished for you, seemingly feeling accomplished in what he named his activity. “And yeah, you were pretty far gone. I’d say it was a gift being able to get that lost, but it’s-”

“More likely a curse. I know, my mom tells me everyday.” You completed for the masked man in front of you.

He raised his arm again as a way to feign checking his watch, and let out an upbeat, “Whew!” with a breath and then continued. “Well, I better be off. By the way…the door needs a little kick to open it,” He pointed to the rooftop exit to the left of where you were standing, and wind still blowing your hair in uncontrollable ways, your gaze followed his direction. When you looked back at him, he was standing on the ledge of the roof, ready to swing off again. “Till next time.”

“Hopefully then I won’t be in too much trouble.” You shouted over the wind.

“Don’t be so sure.” Spider-Man shouted back, laughing and giving you a little farewell of a nod, and then launched himself over the side of the building.

_________________

When you finally moved, after standing staring at the spot he had left, you found he was right about the door. You did have to hit it a few times to get it to nudge open, but you were concerningly unsurprised how he knew it was unlocked. Even so, you would fail to later tell anyone of the missed inspection of the rooftop door from which you had gotten in. The first rule of journalism was to know what questions to ask and when. But a new rule entered your mind, which was to keep your mouth shut about something that could provide Spider-Man any minuscule amount of help, especially after saving your life. You figured there was a reason he knew about the door and you owed him that much. At least with seeing how you were already planning to write a story about your short interaction with him.

Creeping your way down the stairs, careful not to alert security of the way you had gotten in (a journalist also had to know when others would ask questions that they didn’t want being answered), you made your way to the floor where your new cubicle awaited you at the Daily Bugle’s press office. It was a good thing it was located on one of the higher levels because you found it rather quickly and were relieved you didn’t have to troop yourself down countless flights of stairs. But when you got to the entrance, you froze in awe. Leading to the offices were these two large glass doors, soaring much higher than your own height. On it read, simply, ‘Daily Bugle’ with its signature horn between the words. Underneath, it read in a smaller font, ‘New York’s finest daily paper’. Bodies bustled inside behind the glass and you heard the melodic sound of ruffling papers and hurried voices.

What brought you back to reality, though, was someone bumping into you from behind and dropping what seemed like thousands of pictures of Spider-Man. Pictures you recognized. Pictures that were going to go hand in hand with your expertly crafted exposé. Immediately guilty, you leaned down and helped the stranger retrieve them from the ground. Only, when you looked up and locked eyes with the owner you smiled in realization, warmth entering your face. “Pete! Oh I’m so sorry. Are you just getting in? I have so much to tell you.” Then looking down at the prints in your hands you started to look through them as you got up, “I could probably actually use one of these for the new story I’m working on. Jameson might hate it but-”

“Whoa, what’s got you in a rush?” Your colleague chuckled as he too stood up, pictures in hand, though he wasn’t looking at them as intently as you were with the ones in your own hands. From an outsider’s perspective, it would’ve been obvious he looked more intently at you then anything else; although you seldom noticed. You did notice, however, that his hair was more unusually disheveled and his jacket was inside out. But you, kindly, didn’t say anything.

You breathed in and let your friend guide you to your combined cubicle. His name flashed on the panel where you had to scan your ID. Peter Parker. When you sat down, you felt more relaxed. You and Peter had sat in similar seats for over a year and now you both sunk into them with a sense of normality. Before the Daily Bugle had moved to this building, you had become interns together while still in college and made a fast friendship, putting his pictures and your words together in an effort to make front page stories. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t really your first day at the Daily Bugle. But it was your first day in this building, and with a real job.

“Well,” You started. “I just had the craziest morning.” And then you eyed the clock, almost ready to bury your head in your hands and make a run back out the door, “And Jameson is so totally going to kill me for being late.”

Peter laughed again and lifted his camera from his bag, clicking through some pictures you couldn’t see from your seat, “I’m sure he’ll put me through the ringer too. We’ll go down together.”

You both waited a second, as if speaking of your boss would’ve caused him to appear out of thin air and strangle you both on counts of tardiness.

Then, because nothing happened, Peter leaned slightly on his desk after putting his camera down and looked at you, scanning your face for something. Even though you were a reporter, there were a lot of subtle clues you missed about Peter Parker. Really, it could all be chalked up to the fact that the both of you were so comfortable with each other that you hadn’t had any thought to question Pete’s little oddities. After another second of eyeing you, maybe for signs that you were going to break down, Pete spoke, “Maybe later we can talk about this new story of yours, and I can show you all the good ways to get here so you won’t be late. Shortcuts are my specialty.”

You smiled, peeking at the boy out of the corner of your eye while you got out your laptop. You had to submit the Fisk exposé to Jameson today, and it had to be perfect. Especially to make up for your recent tardiness. “How did you know I was late because I got lost?”

“Didn’t, till just now.” Pete chuckled, pushed his unkempt hair back from his face and continued. “Anyways, you have a terrible sense of direction. Is your phone even charged?”

Grumbling a soft, “No.” you dug around in your bag for your dead phone and handed it to your friend who had already gotten out his own charger. As you watched him carefully plug it into your phone, you thought for a second. Here, you had almost just died, and you were letting Peter Parker read you like a book without giving him anything but a friendly thought. Peter Parker who was cute and nerdy and liked you. “So, would this be like…a date?”

Peter, who was now leaning down and trying to plug in the device without removing himself from his chair, “Huh?” He almost hit his head on his desk.

When he reemerged, you asked again, “Peter, would this be a date? You showing me around the city?” You tried to keep your face from smiling too wide by typing away busily on your laptop.

Peter smiled sheepishly, and only by sitting so close as you were would you be able to notice the tint of blush coming out under his cheeks, “You live here, I don’t need to show you the whole-” But now you were looking at him with a, don’t act dumb look. He corrected himself and answered your question, “Not if you don’t want it to be.”

“I want it to be.” This, you said with a sense of satisfaction. Then, “If I have you, I won’t need Spider-Man to save my life because I got lost.”

Peter, who you thankfully didn’t notice was faking, acted surprised and somewhat impressed, “Spider-Man had to save your life today?” He didn’t want to press too hard on your opinions of Spider-Man. Did you think he was cool? Sexy? Smart? All of the above? Did you think he felt strong when you held on to him? Of course, he (as in Peter) didn’t know that you held on to him so of course mentioning that was out of the question. What did you think of the upgraded suit? He (as in Spider-Man) definitely saw you blush, right? Did you like Spider-Man? You’d rewritten plenty of stories on him, that’s for sure.

Nonetheless, none of this came out of Peter’s mouth. Instead, he waited for you to speak again.

“It was crazy. He’s the reason I’m standing here now.” You got up and crossed the room, where the printer was now etching out a couple layouts you and Peter had worked on for your big story.

Peter just looked after you, watching you fiddle with the printer when it jammed and push little loose hairs from your face when they blocked your view. He couldn’t think about what a crime magnet you were turning out to be. Spider-Man had saved your life more than just that time that morning. He had practically prevented it, on multiple occasions (little to your knowledge). Fisk was starting to realize that you had more on him then what he thought, more than even you knew about. It was starting to get dangerous. Fisk sending that guy today was random. It shouldn’t have happened. He shouldn’t have gotten that close.

But Peter being overprotective that morning and deciding to go on Spidey patrol, just for the fact that he knew you might get lost, had paid off. He was checking up on you. That’s what friends did, right? And you were here and safe and talking to him like you were buzzing with the energy you knew you got before you had a big break. And now he just had to convince you not to run the Fisk story. It would be worth it in the end, he could still air out the evidence you had gathered. It just couldn’t be you. Peter couldn’t risk it.

Especially not now that you had agreed to go out with him.

You looked back at him as the printer jammed again and smiled. Why does it always have to be the ones that get into trouble?

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scorpiomother · 1 year

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so many options to bless your lockscreen with┌( ಠ‿ಠ)┘

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ash5monster01 · 1 year

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A platonic request where Peter parker's cousin, reader finds out that he is spiderman in a funny way possible!

Knew It

Pairing: Peter Parker x PlatonicReader

Warnings: none

Summary: Your cousin Peter is hiding something and you’re sick and tired of waiting for him to tell you so you decide to find out for yourself. (this story can apply to any Peter Parker you desire)

Masterlist

You and your cousin Peter had never been super close. At first it was because he was still learning how to cope with his loss when he first moved in. You had begun to understand him when you had lost your own father. But having dead parents and only Aunt May to rely on was where your similarities ended. You knew how to spend time with each other, you weren’t total strangers, it was just a matter of he liked different things then you did and that didn’t leave a lot else to talk about. But you had started to notice a bit of a change with him lately.

At first it seemed like he was taller. Maybe only two inches or so but it was definitely a change. And he actually had muscles for someone who regularly skipped the gym to be a nerd. Peter didn’t exercise but not out of spite, more out of he would rather spend time in the lab at school than be in a gym. So you questioned him at dinner, Aunt Mays eyes shifting between the both of you.

“I’ve always looked like this, I don’t know what you mean” he shot back, almost to quickly for your liking.

“Is it a girl then?” the dramatic roll of Peters eyes made Aunt May snicker from across the table.

“No Y/N, can we just eat dinner?” giving up you left it alone. If he wanted to do excessive push ups in private then so be it.

Then it was the sneaking out and staying out late. Peter would be dumb to think you hadn’t heard the movement of him exiting and entering when your room was right next to his. There was thin walls and the head of your bed was against the shared wall. You heard him leave and sneak back in. But what baffled you the most is what he could be sneaking out for. Girls didn’t talk to him at school so sneaking out for one wasn’t really a plausible idea.

“What do you want?” Peter whispered as he opened his door. He was just in a pair of boxers which caused you to roll your eyes.

“Where were you? What could’ve possibly kept you out this late?” you harshly whispered back as you crossed your arms. The look on his face proved he thought you were ignorant just like Aunt May.

“I was doing homework” rolling your eyes you walked away from him, knowing if he was gonna give you a bullshit response like that then you weren’t going to get the truth out of him anytime soon.

Your final straw was the injuries. Some weren’t as bad as others and he covered most of the big ones from Aunt May. But it wasn’t hard to notice the busted lip, or a black eye here and there. And you could hear him wincing in pain, every night in his room, you could tell he was covering it up. But Peter wasn’t one to pick a fight, let alone one every single night. So you finally decided to find answers for yourself instead of asking and getting told some stupid excuse like ‘I fell’. You devised a plan and waited to hear Peter sneak out of his room before sneaking into his. First you looked for clues but nothing was out of the ordinary for a teenage boys room. Unsatisfied with your findings you set up a camera to see him sneak back in. Maybe it would give you clues as to why he had been sneaking out.

You had almost fell asleep before he came back but thankfully the thin walls allowed you to wake up to the small slam of his window. Looking to your phone you were shocked to see who was entering his room. Spiderman stood there and your whole body froze as you saw this. You were in even more shock to see the mask ripped from his head to reveal Peter. You couldn’t form a coherent thought as you discovered your weird cousin Peter was Spiderman, the new and popular hero in town. Your mind didn’t catch up until Peter had stripped the whole super suit from his body and you caught sight of his naked form. You let out a small scream as you quickly turned off the phone, trying to wipe your eyes out, and remove that image from your mind forever.

“What is wrong with you?” Peter burst through your door holding the camera you had planted in his room.

“A lot of things now” you said as you continued to keep your eyes closed, the image of him naked burnt into your mind. You could throw up, this turned for the worst.

“You saw didn’t you?” He asked tossing the camera to your bed. Finally opening your eyes you still refused to look at him, afraid the image would come back.

“You dressed as Spiderman or your dick?” Peter dramatically rolled his eyes, now in boxers and a shirt as he sat on the end of your bed.

“Can you at least tell me what you’re thinking?” Peter asked and you chuckled likely. “About the Spider-man thing”

“I’m just confused, like you’re not athletic?” Peter laughed at this response now and you finally looked at him.

“I know, I’ll explain it all tomorrow. Can we just agree for now to keep this between us?” sighing you nodded because despite all your differences Peter was where your loyalty lied.

“Fine, but I knew it wasn’t a girl” Peter lightly shoved you and you laughed as he stood up.

“Don’t put anymore cameras in my room” he pointed at you and you groaned.

“Absolutely, I’m burning this one, it’s seen too much” shaking his head he walked out the room and you laid back down. Peter was Spiderman and you were going to let him keep any future secrets he wanted.

#spiderman #peter parker #tom holland #andrew garfield #tobey maguire #imagine #marvel #mcu #peter parker x reader #no way home #fanfic #fanfiction

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spider-stark · 1 month

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INFINITELY YOU

part one // back at the beginning

WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. all versions of peter are between the ages of 19-23 in this story. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

WORD COUNT - 5.4k

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

The world seemed to slip out from under you, fracturing beneath your feet and leaving you to sink into a deep, dark hole.

It was quiet—so unbearably quiet—and the tension between you and your estranged friends had become so thick that you feared it would soon take form and seep into your lungs. Maybe that would be for the best, you thought, wondering if suffocating on your collective grief would somehow be easier than whatever came next.

“Aunt May…” You sputtered, unable to force the words out. Shaking your head, you asked, “Are you sure?”

God, what a stupid question. You almost wanted to slap yourself for asking something so mindless.

Ned’s lips pressed into a thin line, trying to swallow his own sorrow. “I wish we weren’t,” he said with a small, wistful chuckle, still too shocked to fully acknowledge the gravity of it all. “But… yeah, we’re sure. She’s… She’s gone.”

Your heart sank, unable to think of the right string of words to form a reply.

With your mind reeling, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that this was some sort of cruel joke–the kind where the punchline would never quite hit. But all it took was one look at the red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks of Ned and Mj to know that they were telling the truth.

She was dead—Aunt May was dead.

And, somehow, it seemed as though that wasn’t even the worst part of the mess your friends had gotten themselves in.

“I know that it’s a lot to take in all at once,” Ned started back up, perhaps noticing the way the color seemed to drain from your face. “If you need me to go back over it or explain anything then I can-”

You stopped listening to him, staring blankly at the doormat beneath their feet. They hadn’t even bothered to come inside your apartment, too panicked to waste any time before delving into the details about Doctor Strange and the multiverse and other Spider-Man’s.

But honestly, you didn’t care about any of that.

You didn’t care about string theory or whatever multiversal villains had apparently slipped into your world—because you couldn’t stop thinking about what Ned had said about how May died. It hurt to think about it, the shrapnel and debris that had torn her flesh, the glider that had punctured her side and left her bleeding out in Peter’s arms…

Aunt May had died a horrific and brutal death, and you weren’t sure that there would ever be any way for you to come to terms with that.

“Peter,” you finally spoke, fire raging in your eyes as you looked at Ned. “Where is Peter?”

He spared Mj a sidelong glance, as if silently asking for her permission to answer. Frustration began to prick your skin, crawling up your spine as your stare turned harsh, offended that he didn’t just tell you outright. You knew that things between the four of you hadn’t ended well, but this…

Mj crossed her arms, looking almost as frustrated as you were with Ned’s choice to look to her for permission, and decided to answer in his place.

“Downstairs,” she told you, her tone purposefully clipped as a way to show that the wounds sustained in the downfall of your friendship had not yet healed–and you didn’t care, because you knew that yours hadn’t either.

“Is he…” you trailed off, not sure how to say it. If May’s death had been so brutal, then God knows what kind of injuries Peter might’ve sustained in the fight?

But you didn’t have to speak, because whether the two of you liked it or not, you had been friends—and she always knew what you were thinking. “He’s safe,” she told you, quelling your nerves just a little. A reluctant sigh slipped her lips, shaking her head as she added, “But he’s not okay.”

You knew what she meant—physically Peter had survived the fight with this Goblin man that they had told you about, but mentally…

You understood why she was hesitant to tell you about it, too. Of the three of you, there was only one that had ever been able to delve down into the depths of Peter’s trauma and help him claw his way back out of the gnawing pit that threatened to consume him—and it wasn’t either of them.

And, just as Mj knew you, you knew her.

She didn’t want you around Peter, not anymore—and so if she was willingly telling you that he wasn’t okay, then it meant that she knew how much he truly needed you right now.

“You guys should’ve told me sooner,” you grit your teeth, desperately trying to bite back against the resentment rising in your throat. “You should’ve told me as soon as all of this started, instead of waiting until everything went to shit.”

It wasn’t your intention to sound bitter, but that didn’t stop you from coming across that way. Ned recoiled from your tone like a blow, but you didn’t have it in you to feel guilty right now.

They had been dealing with all of this multiversal crisis bullshit for nearly a week now—and yet none of them had thought to say a single word to you until now. And while you knew that your presence likely wouldn’t have changed the course of events that had unfolded, it still hurt.

And it still made you angry.

“What do you need me to do?” You asked after realizing that neither of them intended to respond to your sharp statement.

“Well,” Ned started, nervously rubbing his sweaty palms against his khakis, “it’s gonna take us some time to figure out where the villains are hiding, and even longer to work out what to do with them. And, since these other Peter’s have dealt with these guys before, we could really use their help…”

He trailed off, once again looking to Mj, this time to silently urge her to finish his sentence.

She rolled her eyes. “We need you to let them stay here.”

Your brows furrowed, glancing between the two of them as if once again waiting for some sort of punchline to hit. It didn’t.

“It might take us a bit–a few weeks, maybe—to find all of them and stop them. And now that Happy’s complex was literally blown to pieces, we don’t have anywhere for the two of them to stay while they help out.” Mj tried to explain. She looked defeated when she said, “We didn’t know who else we could go to that would actually understand.”

Understand.

If you weren’t still reeling from everything they had just told you, then you probably would have laughed at the word. You would hardly say that you understood what was going on—but you knew what she was getting.

Mj’s dad would hardly allow two random men to stay in his house with them, and Ned’s Lola probably wasn’t too keen on the idea either. With Happy’s place destroyed, they had nowhere left to turn.

You weren’t sure how to feel now that you knew they had only come to you because you were their last choice.

At the risk of aggravating Mj, you said, “I wanna talk to Peter.”

“I don’t know if now’s a good time,” Mj swiftly shot back. “I told you that’s he’s not okay—”

“But he’s here,” you stated, nodding your head towards the stairs somewhere behind them that led back down to the lobby. “And you’re insane if you think I’m gonna agree to let two random ass men stay in my house without at least knowing what his plan is.”

Mj bristled at the harshness of your tone; and so did you.

You weren’t used to this.

Mj had been your friend for far longer than she had been whatever she was to you now, and neither of you were used to this—to your once special connection being reduced to nothing more than strained conversations and fractured feelings towards one another.

“Fine,” Mj surrendered, her hands lifting slightly. “Do whatever you want.”

It wasn’t until then that you realized that you had been waiting for her permission, even though you didn’t believe you truly needed it. Peter was your friend—and he had been your friend long before he even knew Mj. If you wanted to talk to him, then you had every right to.

Yet you still hadn’t been able to will yourself to push between the two of them until she had spoken, side-stepping to let you pass. When you started descending the stairs to the lobby, you were shocked that neither she nor Ned followed, offering you a sense of privacy with Peter that you hadn’t expected—as if she still held some shred of trust in you.

You didn’t want to think about it though, unsure of how you felt about that, too.

Halfway down the dank stairway of your complex, you felt a shiver dance along your spine. It prickled your skin and set your nerves on edge, but it didn’t catch you off guard. You always felt this way when Peter was around—as if your body could always sense when he was around, even when you hadn’t yet seen him.

The last step creaked when you placed your weight onto it, and from across the poorly maintained lobby, Peter’s neck snapped in your direction at the sound.

It felt like ice skittered across your bones at the sight of him, your heart lurching against your ribcage.

You had gotten used to seeing Peter battered and bruised years ago. Even before he became Spider-Man, he often found himself the victim of bullies and assholes, rarely going more than a few weeks without a busted lip or a new bruise. But this…

This was different, somehow.

It wasn’t just the blood-stained suit that set your heart racing, nor was it the lacerated skin or his sweat-matted hair. No, those things were normal—in the same way that being bitten by a radioactive spider was normal.

It was even normal to see him standing before you, his chin high and shoulders back, presenting a perfect image of strength even after experiencing something as traumatic as losing May.

Peter’s relationship with trauma had been intimate enough these past few years that you weren’t shocked to see him like this, standing tall rather than balling up and crying on the floor. You figured that was what most others would do if they were in his situation.

But Peter wasn’t like other people.

Peter was a hero—and if you had learned anything about heroes in your lifetime, it was that they were incredible liars.

His eyes couldn't lie, though.

Bloodshot and ringed with exhaustion, his eyes were what had made you feel so sick, your stomach twisting itself into knots.

They lacked the life and hope of the boy you had loved so dearly, replaced with something like rage—a pure, unbridled and unrelenting type of rage. Looking at him now you couldn’t ignore the burning talon that seemed to rake against your mind, filling your brain with thoughts you didn’t want to think right now—telling you that looking at Peter now, with the light draining from his eyes, was the same as looking in a mirror.

“Peter,” a metallic tang danced on your tongue as you dug your teeth into your cheek, biting back against the tears threatening to well-up in your eyes.

Letting your instincts guide you, you rushed across the lobby to where he stood by the front door, reaching for his hand without a second thought.

His suit had been torn along his palm, and as you felt the warmth radiating from his calloused skin, you tried to take some comfort in the fact that at least he had survived—even if you still weren’t ready to accept that May hadn’t.

“Don’t,” He yanked his hand back from you, his voice hoarse. “Don’t say you’re sorry.”

You froze for half a heartbeat, your hand hanging awkwardly in-between the two of you. “I wasn’t going to.”

You weren’t sure if you were telling the truth, but it didn’t seem to matter either way.

Either way, you tried to understand his reaction, even as you winced from the sting of rejection. What good would an apology really do for a boy who had already lost everything?

It wouldn’t bring the light back to his eyes.

It wouldn’t bring May back to life.

“Ned told me everything,” you told him, unwilling or unable to say Mj’s name right now. You clenched and unclenched your fists, painfully aware of the absence of his warmth. “You know I’ll do anything I can to help, so just tell me what needs to be done and I’ll do it.”

Peter scoffed, his jaw tensing. “We both know that what I want doesn’t matter,” he said bluntly. Motioning to your surroundings, he continued, “If what I wanted mattered, then we wouldn’t even be here. We wouldn’t be asking for your help—wouldn’t be dragging another person into this and asking them to risk their life!”

You did your best not to react, knowing that he hadn’t meant it quite as bad as it sounded. It already hurt knowing that you had been Mj and Ned’s last choice for help, but knowing that Peter didn’t want you to be a choice at all hurt far worse—even if it was to keep you safe.

“Well, you’re here now,” you told him, keeping your voice steady. “So you might as well tell me what your plan is—or at least tell me how long I’ll need to play bunkmates with strangers.”

You were lying when you had told Mj and Ned that you needed to talk to Peter before agreeing to let the alternate Spider-Men stay in your apartment—you didn’t care about housing with strangers, aware that there was nothing they could do to you that you haven't endured before.

Selfishly, you had just wanted a reason to come down and talk to him. To see him. To know that he was alive. You didn’t care about anything else.

Sometimes you worried that you didn’t even care about your own life, only Peter’s.

But Peter cared about your life—far more than you would ever want him to.

“My plan doesn’t matter,” he said, his tone clipped, “cause I don’t want you getting involved. And I definitely don’t want you to let those guys stay here, alright? We don’t know them.”

You steeled yourself, resisting the urge to argue with him and instead asking a simple question. “Do you have anywhere else for them to go?”

He didn’t respond, huffing out a breath, already frustrated with the defiance he knew you were about to display.

“You might not want my help, but if Ned’s right–” you told him, gesturing backwards towards the staircase, “–which he usually is—then you’re gonna need these guys.”

“But that doesn’t mean we need you,” Peter protested gruffly.

Your chest tightened, but you kept shoving back against the hurt. Later, you would deal with that later.

“It doesn’t matter if you need me,” you retorted with a defiant tilt of your chin, unwavering as his rageful gaze seemed to pierce through your skull, “because you’re stuck with me either way.”

You hadn’t expected the statement to affect him, but it did, his voice softening slightly. “I always have been.”

“Exactly. So you might as well make this easy on the both of us and not fight me on it,” you declared, trying to conjure up the most convincing smile you could offer. “Let me help, Peter.”

A sigh slipped his lips, heavy with reluctant resignation as he realized he wasn’t winning this battle. “We’ve already lost so many people… I’ve lost so many people. And there’s already enough blood on my hands,” he said, lifting his hands to display the torn, blood-stained fabric, driving his point home. “It doesn’t matter what I say—so let them stay here or don’t, I don’t care. But just know that whatever happens to you, it’s not on me. Because I told you to stay out of it, alright?”

He took a step closer, and you didn’t dare move a single muscle as his lips hovered just inches from your own. “Do whatever you want,” his voice was barely a whisper, laced with a venomous edge that nearly made you tremble, “but don’t expect me to come running to save you when it all goes to shit.”

His words hung in the air like a curse, lingering in the lobby for far longer than he did. As soon as the promise had left his lips, he was already turning on his heel and shoving the door open, abandoning you in the dim space.

You knew better than to think he meant it.

But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

You stuck your hands beneath the running faucet, scrubbing the blood from a jagged cut on your palm. It wasn’t all that deep, shallow enough that it probably wouldn't even leave a scar once healed. When you were done rinsing it, you cupped your hands and gathered the water in them, splashing your reddened cheeks.

Crying would have been a normal part of grieving for May, and when you forced yourself to look back at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you couldn’t help but wish that you could’ve been a little more normal.

But tears hadn’t been the cause of your flushed appearance—no, because you had never been very good at expressing the more delicate emotions, like sadness.

You were good at expressing anger, though.

You were very good at expressing anger.

After Peter had stormed out of the lobby and abandoned you to choke on his cruel promise, it had taken you several minutes to work up the nerve to go back upstairs and face Mj and Ned. By some stroke of luck you had managed to keep a tight leash on your often volatile attitude, telling them your decision to let the other Peter’s stay with you.

And then you lost control as soon as they left, loosening the reins on your anger and taking the uncomfortable feelings out on a nearby potted plant, shouting curses as you tossed it at the wall.

By the time you thought to clean it up, after finishing another string of irate profanities, your hands had been shaking so bad that you cut yourself on one of the dirt-covered shards. And maybe, once you felt the jagged ceramic dig into your palm, you should’ve hissed or cursed more or stopped cleaning to patch yourself up.

But you didn’t. You stayed quiet, continuing to pluck the shattered fragments off the floor until you had gotten them all, dumping them into the trash before grabbing the broom and dustpan and cleaning the dirt and scattered leaves, too.

There were more important things to deal with than cleaning a dirty wound.

Like making sure none of your friends could see that you weren’t nearly as composed as you tried to seem.

The familiar rhythmic rapping of Mj’s knuckles against the front door made you forgo the bandage you were going to fix to your palm, tossing the rag you’d used to dry your face into the sink and heading straight to the living room.

Carefully shoving your injured hand into your pocket, you opened the door and tried not to look surprised when Peter wasn’t standing in-between Mj and Ned. Of course he hadn’t come with them—why would he? He had already made it clear how he felt about all of this.

It did become significantly harder to mask your shock however when a tall, messy haired boy stepped into view from behind them, clad in a crimson and cobalt webbed suit.

“Get inside,” you hissed a bit harsher than intended, stepping aside and waving the three of them into your apartment.

The last thing you needed was your neighbors seeing an unmasked, alternate version of Spider-Man standing in front of your door. It had already been risky enough that Peter had come here in his suit, standing in the lobby and sticking out like a sore thumb.

Once they were inside, you shut the door and turned to Ned. “I thought you said there were two of them,” you noted, avoiding looking at the lanky Spider-Man who seemed just as desperate to avoid you, busying himself with walking around the room and studying the art on the walls.

Ned shrugged. “He didn’t wanna come.”

“Not that he didn’t want to come,” Mj pointedly corrected him, frowning at his bluntness. “He just wanted to keep patrolling. The Goblin, the one who…” she cut herself off, unable to force the words off her tongue. Scrapping the sentence altogether, she started again, “The Goblin’s from his world, so he seemed to think that he had the best chance of hunting him down. But we gave him the address.”

You didn’t bother giving her an actual response, a subtle nod the only sign you had heard her at all. She didn’t seem to care much, just as unsure of what to say to you as you were to her.

“So,” Ned clicked his tongue, trying to cut through the growing tension. “This is Peter 3!” He announced, gesturing to the other Peter, who was picking up a frame that had been face down on an end table. “That’s what we’re calling him, at least. Y’know, to tell them apart. The other one is Peter 2.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Creative.”

Done dawdling over Ned and Mj, you forced yourself to look at the un-masked hero from another world. He was placing the frame back onto the table—not face down, as he had found it, but up-right. You frowned at the photograph it displayed, a picture of you, Ned, Mj, and Peter from sometime last year.

“You’re awfully nosy,” you told him, your voice like ice.

His muscles tensed, hesitating as he faced your gaze. “Sorry,”

His voice was slightly deeper than Peter’s, his hair a shade or two darker, his features a bit less soft, but still noticeably young, putting him in his early twenties at most. Truthfully, if it weren’t for the suit he was wearing, you would’ve never guessed that he was supposed to be the Peter Parker of another world.

You had expected him to be more… Peter-like, in appearance, and yet as far as you could tell the resemblances were very slight, if they even existed at all.

The mannerisms were there, though. The subtleties of Peter Parker, the things that most people never noticed and yet were ingrained in your mind. He licked his lips, a nervous tic that left you always carrying chapstick in your pocket. His hands hung at his sides and you saw the way his thumb tapped against each of his fingers, starting with his index and ending with his pinky, only to start over again.

Watching him, taking note of every familiar twitch and tic and habit, made something in your chest tighten.

And, when you told him your name, it was as if your icy tone had melted altogether. “It’s nice to meet you.”

For a moment you thought he wouldn’t respond, his throat bobbing as he swallowed roughly, eyes darting around the room. But then, suddenly, he gave you a weak smile. “You too.” A trace of amusement laced his response, too subtle for you to detect.

“We’ve gotta go,” Ned suddenly spoke, jutting a thumb towards the door. “Peter’s waiting outside so he can make sure we get home safe, but-” he stopped, brows furrowing as considered whether he should finish. “But text us later, okay? Just to let us know that you’re okay.”

Your heart stuttered at the mention of Peter’s name, at knowing that he actually had come—even if it hadn’t been for you—but you didn’t mention it.

Instead, you focused on Ned, giving your sweet friend the kindest smile you could muster—which, admittedly, didn’t feel like much. Despite everything that had happened with your friends in the past few months, your fight had never been with Ned. He was just caught in the middle, unfairly forced to pick sides.

And you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him for picking Peter. Not when you knew that you would’ve done the same.

“I will,” you promised.

Ned gave you an equally somber smile before opening the door to leave. Even once Ned was in the hall, already descending the staircase, Mj lingered in the entryway—not for long, a heartbeat, maybe—turning back towards you just long enough to mutter, “Keep your guard up.”

You didn’t have a chance to say anything back to her before she let the door slam shut, following quickly after Ned and leaving you alone with… this guy.

The other Peter had abandoned his spot by the end table, seemingly done with investigating your apartment and left to do nothing but stand awkwardly a few feet away from you, clearly unsure of what to do or say now that it was just the two of you.

“So,” you breathed out, popping your lips. “Peter 3, yeah? Good name. You go by that back home, too?”

He laughed, a suit-clad hand nervously rising to the back of his neck. “Uh–yeah, no, definitely not. Just plain ole’ Peter Parker over there.”

The nervous energy radiating from the boy almost seemed contagious as you started to pick at your nails. “Do you have a nickname?”

He blinked, looking as if he hadn’t heard a word you said. “Sorry, what?”

“A nickname,” you repeated, only for your brows to then furrow. “You have those where you’re from, don’t you? Nicknames? Like, you know, something you go by other than your actual name?”

“Oh! Yes—sorry, yes we have nicknames in my world,” he exclaimed, his pale skin starting to flush.

“I just thought that this whole numerical system thing that Ned’s going with to keep track of who’s who seems a little dehumanizing, yeah?”

“For sure,” he agreed, sucking on his lip as he nodded along with you.

You gave him a second, waiting and waiting for an answer to your apparently long-forgotten question, before asking, “So… Do you have one?”

The slight blush that had tinged his skin instantly darkened, suddenly the same shade of crimson as his suit. His grip on the back of his neck tightened, too, his fingertips prodding into his own skin.

“Sorry-” he apologized for the millionth time, more nervous laughter spilling out alongside it, “I do! I mean, sort of, I think. I don’t know if it’s really a nickname, but back in my world you really just called me by my last name most of the time anyway, so–I don’t know—maybe that would work?”

The sheer quantity of word vomit spewing from his mouth was impressive and likely hard-to-follow for most, but you consider yourself a bit of an expert in the anxious ramblings of Peter Parker.

“In your world?” You echoed, instantly catching the subtle mention. “We know each other?”

Maybe it shouldn’t have been shocking to learn that there were other versions of you throughout the multiverse as well, and yet it was. You figured that it was plausible, of course, considering that two variations of Peter had just been thrown into your world, but for some reason it just didn’t feel right.

You reasoned that anyone would feel that way, though.

“Yeah,” the boy, Parker, answered, a bit clipped. “We do.”

“Interesting.” Your brows lifted, “Are we friends?”

Parker scrunched his nose, his head tilting slightly.

“Yeah,” his voice was an octave higher than before, and if you knew him better, then you likely would’ve called him on the obvious tell. But you didn’t know him, and so you didn’t say anything when he decided to double-down on the lie, “Yeah, we’re friends.”

“Well I guess that means that this is just as weird for you as it is for me, then.” You laughed, trying to add some humor to the situation.

Parker gave a tightlipped smile. “Definitely weird.”

The seconds felt like they stretched into minutes after that, silently racking your brain for something to say, hoping that he might say something—but, eventually, you settled on offering an escape from the situation instead.

“You’re probably exhausted from the whole multiversal travel thing, so if you want, I can just show you the guest room and give you some privacy or something,” you told him, vaguely gesturing towards the hallway.

Parker seemed to relax a bit at the prospect of being alone, loosing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Uhm–yeah, that’d be great, actually.”

He followed you down the short hall, his hand finally falling from his neck and his skin returning to its normal complexion as his nerves began to wane.

“This is it,” you told him, the hinges crying out as you shoved the door open. “It’s not much, but it’s somewhere to sleep, at least.”

Wasn’t much felt like an understatement, though the room was typical for a New York apartment.

A tad bigger than your average shoebox, there was just enough space to fit a full-sized bed, a small armoire, and a single nightstand adorned with an old desk lamp and a little pink teddy bear—a gift from Peter, years ago.

Parker walked into the room, looking around and brushing his fingertips against the emerald quilt. It was a bit old and somewhat thin, but it was better than nothing you supposed, and Parker certainly didn’t seem like he was going to complain about it.

“It’s great,” he assured you, and even though he did sound genuine, you couldn’t help but snort. He looked over at where you still stood in the doorway, giving you a timid smile as he said, “Way better than sleeping on the streets.”

You returned the gesture, lazily lifting a shoulder. “We’ll see if you still feel that way in the morning. That mattress is about a hundred years old, so it’s probably the equivalent of sleeping on really lumpy cement.”

Parker hummed his amusement, carefully perching on the edge of the bed, his smile seeming to deepen when he caught sight of the little bear on the nightstand.

“I guess I’ll let you get some sleep,” you told him, reaching for the door handle, “if you need anything—extra blankets, or something—just let me know; my room’s right across the hall.”

He muttered his thanks, but as you went to pull the door closed, you heard your name fall from his lips. It was strange sounding, strangled and foreign, like he didn’t quite know how to say it. When you turned back to face him, a subtle wince seemed to etch across his face.

“Can I… Can I ask you something?” Parker stammered out the question, his voice faltering like a candle flame in the wind.

You nodded once, fingers still wrapped around the knob, savoring the coolness of the brass against the now-clotted wound on your palm.

He took a breath, his gaze momentarily flickering back to the teddy bear on the nightstand. His thoughts felt heavy on his tongue as he tried to force them out of his mouth, “Are you happy?”

You blinked at him, unsure of what to make of the hope that seemed to cling to each syllable and half-wondering if you’d heard him right.

“I-” you tried to start, only to realize that you had no clue what to say.

There was a fleeting moment where you realized that you could tell him the truth. You could tell him that happiness felt like a distant shore far from your reach, forever obscured by the fiery tempest of a brutal and ancient rage—a rage that, sometimes, didn’t even feel like your own.

But then he looked at you with those big, expectant eyes; eyes that should have been foreign to you, and yet felt so familiar—and you realized that he wouldn’t like that answer.

Sucking in a breath, you evaded his question as best you could. “Ask me again when all of this is over,” you told him, your lips curving into a soft, playful arc, “and maybe I’ll tell you the truth.”

This time when you went to close the door, he didn’t stop you.

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a/n - i wish that i could properly express just how amazing (and terrifying) it has been to rewrite this story. first created at quite possibly the lowest point of my life, infinitely you has provided me with a necessary escape at a time when i desperately needed it. now that i'm in a better position, i found it necessary to give it the plot, writing style, and dedication that it deserved. i'm aware some people might not be interested in a rewrite and that's ok, but for those that are i just wanna say: thank you, thank you, thank you for giving infinitely you (and me) another shot. you're incredible.

if anyone would like to be added to the tag list, just let me know! as of right now, chapters will be posted every other monday, though i may switch that to weekly soon!

part two, titled "crullers & constants", to be released april 1st

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gredandforgeweatherby · 2 years

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The Girl One Floor Below

Apartment 3C

Summary: Peter Parker helps a girl move in

WC: 1.3K

warnings: A singular swear word, talk of Gwen's death and its effect on Peter (recurring theme throughout the chapters) Not edited because I wanted to pot it today and written over the course of one day so my crappy writting. Takes place after NWH so spoilers if you haven't seen it.

If you haven't seen it go watch it right now, like literally close tumblr and go watch it. It's life changing.

Peter Parker was tired.

He was tired of the project Jameson had made him redo multiple times (4 and counting!), despite the fact that he thought it was perfectly fine. He was tired from his multiversal travel, even though he has been back in his own universe for three months now. And he was tired of being alone.

Now don't get him wrong, he was totally fine with living alone – he had for several years now. He was fine with maybe not getting out as much as he used to or seeing people outside of his work (willingly). The thing that bugged him was – well, it was a combination of things.

Landing in another universe changed him for the better. Seeing the two others Peter’s living their lives happily, or as happily as they could being a superhero, with someone sparked a bit of hope in his heart. They had time for Spider-Man, and they had time for Peter Parker. He hadn’t. Ever since that night in the clocktower, once he managed to drag himself out of the pit of despair, depression, and guilt that Gwen’s death had catapulted him into, he didn’t make time to be Peter Parker. Just Peter Parker. He left the city on its own for a while, and came back more brutal than before. He was the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, but he’s afraid he lost that title years ago.

Gwen was his one – his soulmate, his person, the one he was destined to spend forever and longer with. That’s what he thought at least. But he was older now, twenty-seven going on twenty-eight, and he no longer believed in that. He believed he was meant to fall in love with Gwen, become enamored by her, and then have her ripped away from him in the most gut wrenching way he could have possibly imagined (if he ever imagined it, which he didn’t), and then spend the rest of his life living with that knowledge. The knowledge that as every year passes, he grows a year older while Gwen is forever nineteen. That he lives with the guilt and pain about what happened that night. He believes he was meant to be alone, that the universe wanted to give him a taste of what a wonderful life he could have had if maybe he had never been bitten, or been so selfish, or maybe hadn’t been born with the name of Peter Benjamin Parker.

The universe could be a real bitch.

But part of him, a small part of him, had been healed when he saved his younger brother’s MJ, preventing him from living the life he had for almost eight years. Peter had found solace knowing that he prevented the youngest Peter from losing his twin flame, and that helped him heal. That had been the first true step in his healing journey, he realized, as nothing he had done before had really helped. The burning pain he once held in his heart and head had become a dull ache spread across his entire body over the years, but a trip to another universe had helped that ache subside just a bit. And for that, he was thankful.

Nine months out from a quick trip of meeting two other versions of him, he was healing. He was getting better. Peter blamed himself less than he had for Gwen’s death, the dull ache had subsided more, and although he knows it will never be fully gone, he’s glad it can become duller and duller until it’s almost absent. He was taking better care of himself, stopping in to see May more and staying longer for visits. Jameson finally accepted the project that had been causing him a substantial amount of grief since he had come back. (He had to do it over five times before Jameson finally deemed it acceptable, although at that point Peter had gotten tired of his shit and just submitted his first version again and Jameson didn’t even know.) He was trying to leave his apartment a bit more for things that weren’t work or errand related, and began decorating his apartment a bit nicer to hopefully bring some light into his life. He was on his way back from the bugle, and was only a few steps away from the elevator of his apartment building when he took a quick look to his left.

A few feet from his left was a woman close to the same age as him. She was obviously moving in as she had two moving boxes with her, although she was slightly struggling to get a hold on both of them. Her hair was short; dark brown cut to sit a bit above her shoulder, yet most of it was up in a ponytail, the rest sitting against the base of her neck, lightly damp with sweat. She was wearing a tank top and shorts, as it was now July and the heat was brutal, and he could see small beads of sweat collecting at her hairline. Nonetheless, Peter thought she was beautiful.

Looking at her made his heart race, made him feel nervous like he was back in highschool talking to Gwen again. He noticed his palms beginning to sweat and wiped them on his jeans as he debated going over to talk to her. He had almost decided on no when he had thought back to what the eldest of the Peters had told him.

He was going to make time for Peter Parker.

With that thought, he wiped his palms on his pants once more before going over to her.

“Uh, hi.” He greeted her with a small smile and wave before clearing his throat because he knows he sounds like a prepubescent teenager talking to his crush, and continued. “Hi, I was passing and saw you were moving without any help and was wondering if I could offer some.” He internally cringed at how he was talking to her, he was admittedly out of practice.

She smiled lightly while nodding her head. “That would be great actually. I’ve been struggling with these boxes for a bit, thank you.”

Peter nodded at her in response before picking up one of the boxes. “Lead the way.”

────────────────────────────────────────────

They made their way to the third floor before she stopped, put her box down, pulled out her keys and unlocked her door. She stepped out of the way to let Peter inside first before making her way inside with her last box.

“You can put it anywhere, obviously I’m not very particular about box placement.” She placed her box on the kitchen counter as she voiced this to Peter, and he made his way over to her and put his next to it.

He looked back at the various boxes scattered about the room before speaking. “Did you move all of these up here by yourself?”

Letting out a light laugh she responded. “Yeah, I didn’t have anyone helping me so it has taken me way too long. I was planning on unpacking some tonight but that is not gonna happen now.”

“I could help if you wanted.” Peter offered, part of him hoping she’d say yes, but another part hoping she’d say no.

“Oh no it’s okay. I feel bad I even took up the whole six minutes of your time already so you’re free to go.”

She and Peter walked to the door and he noticed the number emblazoned on the door. “3C, I’m one floor above 4C if you ever need anything. I know it’s always nice to have someone just in case when you’re moving in. I didn’t have that, all I had was this crotchety old woman who hated my guts so..” he trailed off while looking away, really wishing a hole would just swallow him up on the spot for being so awkward. But instead of grimacing or cringing, the woman smiled and thanked him.

“I’m Peter, by the way.” He stuck out his hand.

“I’m Marilyn.” She took his hand and shook it, before saying goodbye and seeing him off.

Marilyn.

Peter never thought a name would ever sound so sweet on his tongue.

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