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akairawrites · 10 months

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Not Your Gwen Stacy pt.1

It was quite the only sound coming from the honking of car horns in the distance and the clicking of a clock on the wall. The peaceful silence was interrupted by the blaring of an alarm which caused a woman to awake from her sleep. She was in a rather uncomfortable position, her back was slouched against the arm of the couch with a blanket only covering her lap with a book dangling off the side of the couch but when she moved it slid off and onto the floor with a thud. She reached over the end table tapping the alarm on her phone. She looked at the battery percentage and cursed It only had 20% left. She cursed to herself for forgetting to put the phone on the charger last night or turn the battery saver on.

She reached over and picked the book up from the floor and placed it on the coffee table next to her unfinished, coffee cup. Though before doing anything else she stood and stretched cracking a few bones in the process. She shuffled over to her bedroom and looked through her closet. She pulled her pajamas off and shrugged on a white blouse and a short black bodycon skirt. She did her hair and made a cup of coffee before slipping on her flats, grabbing her phone, and heading out the door.

Once she stepped out of her tiny apartment the New York City air filled her nose. The noise of cars and people talking on the phone filled the atmosphere. She began walking she looked down at her phone now only at 15% she signed tucking her phone into her pocket. She walked about a block before waving a taxi over. She hopped in buckling her seat belt then turned to the driver “The Daily Bugle please.” she said.

The driver said a faint you got it and took off. The peaceful drive only lasted a few minutes before another car slammed into the taxi the impact caused her to hit her head on the window she was a bit dazed but she shook it off she looked at the driver to see what was going on but he had already taken off

“You asshole you can't just leave me in here!”

She took a moment a looked at her surroundings she was on the bridge the car was pinned between the railing and another car. The door was jammed so she unbuckled the seat belt and tried the other side but of course, it was jammed she was gonna try the other door again but another impact hit the car making it brake the railing and lean off the side of the bridge she screamed looking down at the water below.

She closed her eye and prayed to whatever god there was. The second she opened them the car tilted again and eventually over the side of the bridge. She let out a blood-curdling scream but before she could reach the water her body jerked as if something had caught her. She opened her eyes to see SpiderMan dangling from the edge with another web. She looked down as the car plummeted into the water with the windshield now completely gone.

“Hang on! I got you.” He said pulling the web upward

She couldn’t help but stare at the masked hero who now had his arm wrapped around her waist and before she knew it she was briefly swinging through the air. She was a bit surprised that Spiderman was saving her life despite the news of him being less remorseful. Once her feet touched the ground she looked up and confusion laced her expression.

He safely dropped her off that the Daily Bugle.

“But how did you-?” once she turned around he was gone and she didn't even get to thank him.

---

It's been almost two months since The Amazing Spider-Man saved your life. The specifics of what happened that day were just a blur to you. You only remember almost falling to your death and then being saved by Red and Blue. But that wasn't the only thing that stood out to you the most it, was the fact that after he saved you he knew exactly where to take you, and last you checked spiders weren't telepathic. It wasn't just that it was the fact that he saved your life. Recently Spiderman was all over the news instead of saving lives he was taking them

“Y/n!” The sound of your name made you jump the sound of buzzing around the office and phones ringing came back to you. “You've been staring at the copying machine for a while now are you okay?”

You turned around “Y-Yeah I'm fine Ned.” You remembered what you were doing and grabbed the papers you were copying “Just had a rough week is all.”

Ned nodded “Right..how about you take a break from work? Umm...grab lunch with me maybe next Friday?” He walked up next to you and propped himself up on the copying machine his blue eyes looking anywhere but at yours. You gave him the most polite smile you could muster up “Sure I wouldn't mind.”

Ned's eyes lit up as he stood up straight again “Cool..Well um I better get back to work or Jameson is gonna be on my ass later.” he said pushing his blond hair out of his eyes. He pushed his hands into his pockets and walked out of the break room.

“Right..” you simply replied. You grabbed the rest of the papers from the machine and left the room as well. You placed the papers that were on your arms onto the desk with a loud thud “Here are those papers you asked for sir.”

“Good what took you so long?” Jameson asked pulling the cigar from his mouth and picking up one of the papers from the stack. It was a news column something about Spider-Man being a menace as usual but this time it seemed to be true.

“There was a problem-” he cut you off

“With you or the machine?”

You rolled your eyes and huffed “The machine sir.” you said through you're gritted teeth

He just looked up at you as if he didn't believe you and sat back in his chair and put the cigar back in his mouth. “Parker get over here.” he straightened out the paper in his hands and propped his legs on his desk.

A guy walked over he made eye contact with you and quickly looked away and focused his attention back on Jameson. There was something about him that looked familiar but why haven’t you noticed before? It’s like he’s been invisible to you until now.

Jameson looked at the two of you standing awkwardly next to each other he cleared his throat and sat up in his chair and placed his cigar in the ashtray “I want the two of you to publish a page in the New York Times.” You raised an eyebrow you didn’t know if you heard him correctly but based on the look Peter was giving him you must’ve. “Peter is the only one around here who seems to be able to take a decent photo of Spiderman and Y/n you are the best writer I got so I need the two of you to work together starting tomorrow.” It didn't necessarily seem like he was asking.

Although this was a big opportunity for you you were a bit hesitant to work with Parker just because he seemed a bit off-putting, like he wanted nothing to do with you. That Parker guy couldn't help but run across your mind of course. The fact that you hadn't realized he worked at the Daily Bugle along with you bothered you for some reason.

Later that evening you grabbed your bag from your seat at your desk and headed towards the elevator. You looked up and saw Peter stepping inside. Earlier you tried talking to him but it seemed as though he was ignoring you. You thought now was the perfect time.

You shuffled your feet faster trying to catch the elevator before it closed “Hey! Wait up!” you called Peter noticed you and pressed the button in the elevator faster trying to get it close. But lucky for you, you got through in time.

It was silent the only sound coming from the awkward elevator music. You cleared your throat and your eyes darted over to him and then down at his skateboard.

“Umm..cool skateboard.”

“Thanks.”

“So..how long have you been working at the Daily Bugle?” You asked hoping to finally get an answer to your burning question.

Peter Swallowed hard “Almost two years now.”

Your jaw almost dropped he had been working here just as long as you have and you'd never noticed him.

“How come I've never noticed you before?” You shifted your weight onto one foot in anticipation.

Peter just looked at you and shrugged but it looked like he was holding something back like he wanted to tell you something. “Well...I look forward to working with you,” you said All he did was smile and nod It must've been a relief for him when the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. You didn't even have time to say goodbye because once the doors opened he took off. You sighed in defeat and stepped out of the elevator as well making your way home to your tiny apartment.

Once inside you dropped your bag onto the floor next to the door. After changing your clothes and taking a shower you brewed yourself a cup of coffee and turned on your futile Roomba. You plopped on your couch almost immediately regretting your decision because you almost spilled your hot coffee. You picked up your book and opened it to where you last left off and began reading while occasionally taking small sips of your coffee.

You didn't know how long you've been reading. You seemed to lose track of time but it didn't matter though because a knock on your door pulled you away from your book.

You answered the door your eyes went wide but a bit of confusion washed over you. “Peter?” you asked

“Oh..hey.” he wasn't expecting you to be on the other side of the door either if he did he probably wouldn't come knocking

“What are you doing here?” you scratched your head genuinely confused.

He tapped his feet against the floor and looked up at you “Umm...I live under you and I'm trying to study but your Roomba is driving me insane.” he stated

You raised your eyebrow “My Roomba?”

“Yeah, the thing that's ramming into your furniture over there.” he pointed behind you you turned around, and sure enough your Roomba was smashing into your coffee table you had completely forgotten about it. Usually, you’d only turn it on when you were reading.

You turned back around and mouth ‘oh’ “Yeah it's pretty loud I can hear it through the floor.”

You chuckled “Sorry about that...I didn't realize I still had it on.”

“Uh it's fine just...try to keep it down.” he gave you an awkward smile that followed a bit of awkward silence which to his relief you broke.

“How long have you been staying in this building?” Your eyebrow knitted together realizing he just said he lived under you.

“For about a year and a half.”

First, you didn't notice he worked with you for two years now you haven't noticed he'd been living under you for a year and a half. It's like you disappeared because some alien Titan snapped his fingers or something.

You blinked “Well I guess that’s a bit convenient for us right? Since we’re gonna be working together..”

He nodded and formed his lips into a thin line “Yeah I guess so.”

You nodded and forced an awkward smile “Well I guess I’ll see you tomorrow and don’t worry I’ll try to keep it down.”

“Thank you.” That was all he said before he walked away. You closed the door and let your smile recede you didn't understand why he was so distant from you you just hoped he’d warm up to you sooner or later.

Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5

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swan-of-sunrise · 1 month

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Hawkeye (Part II)

Summary: Clint reaches out to (Y/N) for help and after a visit with the physically and mentally taxed archer, she takes it upon herself to meet Hawkeye’s #1 fan and impart a little wisdom onto Clint’s young partner.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: This week's chapter is a little longer because (a) I'm not sure I'll have Part III finished by next Thursday and (b) You guys deserve it!! There's a surprise character that'll pop up in the second half of this chapter and if you've seen Spider-Man: No Way Home, then I think you'll know who it is lol thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Hawkeye (Part II) December 21st, 2024 Apartment of Moira Brandon, East Village (Previous Chapter)

Out of all the Avengers she’d been introduced to during that fateful party at the Avengers Tower so many years ago, (Y/N) always had a secret soft spot for Clint Barton; he was equal parts kind and sarcastic, quickly noting the anxiety she’d been desperately trying to mask from the moment she arrived and taking the time to get to know her while simultaneously directing playful jabs at his fellow teammates. Their first meeting and team-up in the subsequent conflict with Ultron coupled with Natasha’s endless stories from their days of working together at S.H.I.E.L.D. cemented (Y/N)’s unbreakable trust in the archer, and it was that trust that led her to an average-looking East Village apartment building only four days before Christmas with a priceless and top-secret piece of S.W.O.R.D. technology tucked away in her messenger bag.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice, (Y/L/N),” Clint smiled as he ushered her into the temporary safe house, checking up and down the hall before locking the door and leading her into the cozy living room. “See any of those idiot Tracksuits tailing you?”

(Y/N) shrugged her winter coat off and draped it over the back of the couch with a humorless chuckle. “Nope, but I almost wish I had; I could’ve used a good laugh or two after that horrendous traffic jam on the Brooklyn Bridge.” She folded her pink scarf in half and tossed it on top of her coat, meeting Clint’s eyes with a sardonic smirk beginning to spread across her face. “Wouldn’t you know, some dumb-ass archer decided to impale a Pym Particle-infused arrow into the Manhattan Bridge and create commute hell for anyone traveling in or out of Brooklyn?”

Rolling his eyes, Clint flopped down onto the well-worn couch and sighed in exasperation; he looked exhausted, with darkened circles under his eyes and a noticeable cut on his forehead. “Still a smart-ass, I see. For your information, I shot a Pym Particle-infused arrow at a regular arrow and then it impaled itself into the bridge.”

“Well, either way, I thought you’d like to know that Scott got his ass chewed out by Hank for that little stunt,” She replied in amusement and sat herself down on the couch beside him, taking a moment to adjust her sweater over her small baby bump before rummaging through her messenger bag. “Apparently, Hank’s not too fond of his life’s work being used for – and I quote – ‘stupid shit you see on the eleven o’clock news.’”

The archer scoffed at that. “I once saw the guy use Pym Particles to enlarge a goddamn chicken sandwich, but whatever.”

(Y/N) laughed as she withdrew a small metal case and handed it over to Clint. “Back-up hearing aid, as requested; my coworker said that this is one of the best on the market, so you should be well-covered if yours ends up breaking again.” He nodded in thanks and slipped the case into his pocket. Her former teammate’s recent hearing loss as a result of years of work as a S.H.I.E.L.D. spy, Avenger and vigilante inspired her to seek out Brooklyn College’s underfunded but resilient disability resource center; she studied ASL and learned enough to not only begin teaching Steve and Carina, but to also pre-film her lectures for any hard of hearing student who decided to enroll in her Introduction to American Popular Culture course. “And I looked into that socialite guy for you…” Activating the transparent S.W.O.R.D. tablet – a parting gift from Nick Fury before he traveled up to the organization’s newly-built space station – (Y/N) allowed it to scan her handprint and read off the information she’d collected. “Jack Duquesne, born into the obscenely-wealthy Duquesne family that’s apparently descended from European aristocracy. Since he’s seemingly never worked a day in his life, he’s had enough free time to become an expert swordsman and accrue a pretty impressive sword collection; is that what he was doing at that black market auction the other night?”

Clint nodded as he studied the images on the tablet’s screen. “He wanted to add the Ronin’s sword to his collection; according to Kate, he ran off with it after the Tracksuits crashed the auction, and then he almost took my head off with it when we broke into her mom’s penthouse this morning.” When (Y/N) thoughtfully tilted her head to the side, his frown deepened. “What?”

“When I did a little more digging, I found out that Duquesne is listed as the CEO of Sloan Limited. It’s a shell company, one that launders money for none other than-”

“The Tracksuit Mafia…” The archer exhaled and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Kate thinks that Jack Duquesne killed his uncle Armand. At first, I thought the idea of him becoming her stepfather someday was clouding her judgement but it’s looking like her instincts might’ve been right.”

Taking note of the stiffness in his movements and the weary tone of his voice, (Y/N) tucked the tablet back into her messenger bag as she gave him a sympathetic smile. “None of what I found out really helped you, did it?”

“It helped, (Y/L/N), it really did…” Clint hastily reassured her. “But I’m no closer to being able to go home for Christmas. I’ve got the suit and the sword, but Maya Lopez and the Tracksuits still have me and Kate connected to the Ronin and there’s a good chance that they’ve got Laura’s Rolex; I can’t leave until I track it down and figure out a way to stop the Tracksuits from targeting Kate, and I’ve gotta do all that before Kingpin gets involved.” He sat back and offered her a small smile. “The Barton Family Christmas hit a little speed-bump, as you can tell, so how’s the Rogers-(Y/L/N) Family Christmas going so far?”

“Well, Carina helped us decorate cookies and gingerbread houses for the vets down at the VA hospital yesterday, and then she decided that our living room wall could use a thick coat of frosting as well.” Clint burst into laughter and (Y/N) couldn’t help but join him. “Steve’s convinced that she’s got the makings of an artist, but I just think she likes to keep us on our toes. And this little gumball…” Beaming, she rubbed a hand across her bump. “Moved for the first time this morning.”

“That’s amazing! Boy or girl?”

“We don’t know yet, but we’re gonna open the envelope my doctor sealed for us together on Christmas Day and find out.” Memories of her first pregnancy and the overwhelming loneliness she struggled with unwittingly came to the forefront of her mind, but she forced herself to ignore them as she continued. “I’ve never really been one for big gender reveals, but after Carina’s…shall we say, unconventional birth and everything we’ve been through since, I just wanted this pregnancy to be special for us.”

A look of understanding crossed Clint’s bruised face, as he was one of the few Avengers who could empathize with desiring balance between a normal family life and the superhero life they’d been thrust into, but he merely smirked and jokingly replied, “Well, if you’re still thinking of baby names, I’ve always thought that Clint Rogers-(Y/L/N) had a nice ring to it.”

(Y/N) snorted in amusement. “Oh, really? You know, I’ve heard the same exact thing about Sam Rogers-(Y/L/N), James Bucky Rogers-(Y/L/N), Bruce Rogers-(Y/L/N), Thor Rogers-(Y/L/N), Korg Rogers-(Y/L/N) and Rocket Rogers-(Y/L/N).”

“I’m not usually one to judge, but I’ll totally judge you if you name your kid after a talking raccoon or a big pile of rocks.” When his chuckles died down, the archer’s blue-grey eyes softened as they looked between her face and the bump she was unconsciously cradling. “I’m really happy for you guys, and I know…I know that Nat and Tony would be, too.”

After flashing him a thankful smile, (Y/N) leaned her elbow on the back of the couch and rested her temple against the palm of her hand. “So, what’s this Kate Bishop like?”

“A pain in my ass,” Clint bluntly replied and when she lightly scoffed at his answer, he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m serious! That kid’s cocky, reckless and she talks way too much…but I can’t deny that she’s a damn good archer and her instincts are sharp.” His brow arched as a thoughtful expression crossed his injured features. “You know, she reminds me a little of you, actually; she put that suit on to protect innocent people from the Tracksuits without a single thought for her own safety, just like how you volunteered to help an Air Force vet and a couple of wanted Avengers save the world from Hydra without a single thought for your own safety.”

(Y/N), detecting a hint of concern in her friend’s tone of voice, nodded in understanding. “You’re worried about her.”

Clint nodded. “Damn right I am. You were twenty-seven when you helped Steve, Nat and Sam stop Project Insight, and Kate’s only twenty-two; you understood the risks of getting involved in this sort of life, but Kate…she’s got blinders on. I tried to make her understand that I’m not a role model, that I’m not someone that people should look up to and that this life I’ve led for the past twenty years isn’t a game but like I already told you, she’s cocky and reckless.”

“She doesn’t know about the Ronin, does she?” When Clint shook his head, (Y/N) bit her lip and carefully contemplated her next words before speaking. “Maybe the reason you can’t get through to her is because you haven’t shown her the real you and she can sense that you’re hiding something from her; if you open up to her now, then you might be able to stop her from getting too deep into all this.” He shrugged his shoulder, but she could see that she hadn’t convinced him to confide in his reluctant partner; she glanced down at her wristwatch and hummed to herself. “Well, I should probably head out now if I want to beat the commute traffic to Brooklyn…”

“Yeah, and I should give Laura and the kids a call before I pass out from exhaustion.” Clint helped her to her feet and gave her a fond smile as she pulled her coat and scarf back on. “It’s been good seeing you, (Y/L/N), and I really appreciate your help. Tell Steve that I said hi and that he should totally name his second-born after one of his oldest and coolest friends, okay?”

“Sure thing, Hawkeye,” (Y/N) chuckled, slinging the strap of her messenger bag over her shoulder as they walked over to the apartment’s front door and giving her friend a hug, careful of his bruised and battle-worn limbs as she did. “Good luck, Clint. You’re going to fix this and you’re going to make it home for your Barton Family Christmas and on Christmas Day, we’ll give you guys a call to let you know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” With a smile and a teasing salute, Clint opened the door and watched her head towards the building’s elevator before retreating into the temporary safe house.

(Y/N) stepped into the elevator and after the door slid closed, the uneasy feeling that had begun to form when the topic of Kate Bishop came up only seemed to deepen as the elevator descended. It was foolish to further embroil herself in Clint’s struggle against the Tracksuits; not only was she entering her pregnancy’s second trimester but if a powerful man like Kingpin caught wind that she was involved, it could put Steve’s secret life in jeopardy and their family’s safety at risk. But it was Clint’s comparison of Kate to (Y/N) that compelled her to pull the S.W.O.R.D. tablet out of her messenger bag and research the young archer’s cell phone number.

“I sure hope that I’m doing the right thing, Nat,” She murmured under her breath as she worked. “For Kate and for Clint’s sakes…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later, (Y/N) was seated at one of the rickety metal tables outside Greenwich Village’s own Joe’s Pizza, patiently waiting for the twenty-two-year-old to work through her star-struck awe while she enjoyed a slice of pizza and scratched the young archer’s rescue Golden Retriever behind his ear.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe I’ve met two Avengers in less than a week! Is this, like, some sort of a superhero test? Or a trial period or somethin’? I mean, I’ve only been in four-ish fights so far…or wait, was it five? I don’t know, I can’t really remember ‘cause I’m pretty much running on caffeine and adrenaline at this point,” Kate nervously chuckled, a little out of breath as she finally stopped rambling and attempted to rearrange her excited features into a nonchalant smile. “…So, um, what can I do for you, Ms. (Y/L/N)?”

“Please, just call me (Y/N).” Smiling, (Y/N) took another bite of her pizza slice and used it to point at Kate. “I’ve heard a lot about you from our mutual friend, so I wanted to meet you for myself.”

The young archer’s brows raised almost comically. “R-Really? Wow, that’s really…was it all good things you heard?”

“Mm-hmm, and I also saw the video of you rescuing this good boy on the news.” The one-eyed Golden Retriever nuzzled his face against her lap and perked up when she tore her slice of pizza in half, wolfing it down in record time once she offered it to him. “He’s lucky that someone as skilled as you came along when you did.” After watching the dog enjoy his chunk of pizza, she looked back up at Kate and sobered as her eyes fixated on the steri-strips that closed the lacerations that were scattered across her youthful face. “Actually, I asked you to meet me here because I wanted to talk to you about this case you’re working with Clint.”

Kate slumped in her seat, a dejected frown beginning to form on her injured face while she took a halfhearted bite of her pepperoni pizza slice. “You think I should stay home and let Clint handle it, don’t you? That’s what my mom thinks, too; she didn’t say anything about it to me, but I know she thinks I’m crazy for doing this. I mean, I’m just a civilian and Clint’s a freaking Avenger, so I guess I see why it’s nuts that I’m helping him out, but I…I can’t just sit back when I know that I can help.”

Smiling a little to herself, (Y/N) dabbed at her lips with a napkin and shook her head. “Kate, I’m the last person on the planet who’d ever tell you to stay home and ignore the instinct to help. I was just a civilian when I helped Steve, Nat and Sam take down Hydra – an unpublished historical-fiction novelist with a part-time job at the V.A., who just so happened to be one of only two people in D.C. that a couple of wanted Avengers could trust. They tried their hardest to make me stay home and out of danger but I refused, because I knew that I could help them. I had to help, no matter what, and nothing they’d say could change my mind.”

“So, you understand why I’m still helping Clint?” The young archer’s expression brightened and she sat up in her seat. “That’s great!” When (Y/N) didn’t immediately answer, her head tilted to the side in confusion. “…Isn’t it?”

“You and I are a lot alike and because I see so much of myself in you, I wanted to tell you what I wish someone had told me ten years ago, when I took my first steps into the life of an Avenger.” (Y/N)’s fingers caressed the content Golden Retriever’s fur, taking small comfort in his calming presence as she continued. “When you choose to spend your life trying to help people, there’s going to be consequences you’ll have to face. Some of the consequences won’t come as a surprise – the fights and battles have taken a physical and mental toll on me, for example, and I’ll have to live with their effects on my body and on my mind for the rest of my life – but others will. From the moment it began, my entire career’s been called into question; you see, people assume that my success is due to my long-time association with the Avengers and not the writing skills I’ve worked my ass off developing and perfecting. I lost any chance at anonymity or a private life when I announced my engagement to Steve Rogers. I became estranged from my family, because they didn’t approve of my relationship or my association with the Avengers. I went through the joy of befriending some of the kindest and most misunderstood people in the world, and then I was forced to mourn them in a way that no one but my fellow Avengers could ever understand; the world lost Iron Man, Black Widow, Black Panther and the Vision, but I lost Tony, Nat, T’Challa and Vis.”

Kate bowed her head and stared down at the discarded pizza crust on her plate. “And you lost Steve, too.”

(Y/N) nodded mutely, careful to keep up the ruse that Steve Rogers died in the Battle of Earth and wasn’t currently wrapping Christmas gifts with their fifteen-month old daughter in their Brooklyn home. “When you face the threats that Clint and I have faced, you have to accept that there’s going to be things that you lose along the way. I don’t tell you any of this to dissuade you, Kate, far from it; I’ve always believed that if you feel that you can help, then it’s your moral obligation to do so.” She reached across the table and rested a comforting hand atop Kate’s, giving her a small smile when her eyes finally met hers. “But it’s important that you know that this life isn’t easy, and it’s only fair that you hear it from one of the only Avengers who stumbled into this life the way you have. Do you understand?”

Kate nodded, and the brief silence that filled the air as (Y/N) finished her slice of pizza was broken by a timid question. “Do you know who the Ronin is?”

“…I know who they used to be,” (Y/N) carefully replied. “But if you want to know more about the Ronin, then you’ll have to ask Clint.”

“Urgh, I knew you’d say something cryptic like that. Hey, what’re Clint’s favorite Christmas movies and does he have any strong opinions about ugly Christmas sweaters?”

After (Y/N) helped Kate plan out the perfect mini-Christmas party for a homesick Clint, she bid the young archer and her energetic Golden Retriever goodbye and watched them both stroll down the sidewalk with a fond smile on her face. It was clear to her that Kate’s heart was in the right place, and that perhaps she was the perfect person to help Clint move on from the Ronin as well as resolve the ongoing conflict with the Tracksuits. I just hope they’ll both stay safe, she thought as she anxiously bit her lower lip and stroked her small baby bump, her mind preoccupied with a myriad of the worst possible outcomes to the archers’ partnership.

“Here you go, Ms. (Y/L/N): one large chicken and olive pizza to go,” The young worker’s sudden appearance shook (Y/N) out of her heavy thoughts and after setting the pizza box down, he started to bus the table with a small smile on his face. “Need any packets of Parmesan cheese or red pepper flakes?”

“No, thank you, I-” (Y/N) cut herself off when her eyes caught sight of a familiar well-worn paperback sticking out of the teenager’s back pocket and she felt herself begin to grin. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a copy of For Queen and Country with its original cover art. How’re you enjoying it?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “It’s one of my favorite books!” The young worker’s gaze briefly met hers as a light blush dusted his cheeks; there was a brief flash of grief in his brown eyes – a deep sort of grief that looked entirely out of place in the eyes of a teenager – but it soon vanished when a bashful expression graced his features. “I’ve been a fan for a pretty long time, Ms. (Y/L/N), and I was actually workin’ up the courage to come out here and ask you for your autograph. I don’t wanna bug you or overstep-”

“Of course I’ll autograph your copy!” (Y/N)’s smile widened as he stammered out a brief thanks and scrambled to hand her the paperback and his server’s pen. “Who should I make it out to?”

“Peter, Peter Parker.” Again, (Y/N) was struck by the strange emotion that flashed across his face, but what gave her pause was the sudden familiarity that his name brought her; she couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about the teenager’s name tugged at the far reaches of her mind. Doing her best to shrug the unsettled feeling off, she jotted down a brief greeting and signed her name before blowing on the drying ink and handing the book and pen back with a smile. “Thanks a lot, Ms. (Y/L/N)! It was good seein’ you agai-um, sorry, I think my manager’s callin’ me, happy holidays!”

Peter Parker, who’d abruptly turned as white as a sheet, shoved his book and pen into his pocket and scooped up the dirty dishes before practically sprinting back inside. (Y/N)’s brow arched at his odd shift in behavior, but gathered up her pizza box and strode down the sidewalk to where she’d been lucky enough to park her yellow Volkswagen Bug. After securing the pizza in the car’s front trunk (or ‘frunk,’ as Sam liked to jokingly call it), she carefully climbed into the driver’s seat and waited a moment for the baby to settle down before dialing Steve’s cell phone number.

“Hey, sunshine! How was your visit with Clint?”

“Productive, for the most part; he has an idea of who the middle-man between Kingpin and the Tracksuits is, but he’s still not sure how to stop them from targeting him and his new friend Kate or uncovering Laura’s past. I also had a quick chat with Kate over lunch, which is why I’m bringing home a chicken and olive pizza from Joe��s; you should also know that your offspring conned me into buying it.”

Steve chuckled. “Oh, they did, huh?”

“Mm-hmm, and you should count yourself lucky that it was only pizza; at four months pregnant with Cari, I was craving Flamin’ Hot Cheetos dipped in vanilla ice cream,” (Y/N) snickered as her husband made a sound of disgust on the other end of the call. “Oh, and the strangest thing happened as I was leaving! Do we know a Peter Parker from anywhere?”

“…I don’t think so, but the name sounds awfully familiar.”

“Right? There’s something strange about it but I can’t put my finger on-” A recognizable babbling in the background of the call caused her to stifle a giggle. “Someone’s feeling chatty today, aren’t they?”

“I think that last episode of Sesame Street might’ve riled her up a bit; you know how much she loves when the Count makes an appearance,” Her husband remarked before calling out, “Cari, did you wanna talk to Mama? Mama’s on the phone right now.”

The gibberish grew louder as the infant toddled over and happily exclaimed into the phone. “Mama!”

“Hi, lemon drop! I’ll be home really soon, okay? Mama loves you!” (Y/N) smiled to herself, listening to their daughter’s incoherent mumbling grow faint as Steve regained control of the cell phone. “I should be home in a half an hour or so, depending on how backed up the bridge is.”

“Fingers crossed that all the city’s archers decide to leave the Brooklyn Bridge un-impaled for the afternoon commute.” Steve joked. “You can tell me all about Clint and his new partner over pizza and my famous green smoothies. I love you, sunshine.”

She gave her phone an exaggerated air-kiss that made Steve huff out a quiet laugh. “I love you too, sweetheart, and I’ll see you soon.”

After hanging up the call and tucking her cell phone into her messenger bag, (Y/N) started the car’s engine and turned up the radio, the local station’s Christmas playlist already playing through the speakers. “Okay, gumball, your daddy promised to make us a smoothie, so let’s get this show on the road.”

Pulling away from the curb, (Y/N) hummed along to the upbeat Elton John track in the hopes that the music would distract from the unsettling feeling beginning to take form in the pit of her stomach, but the tune wasn’t enough to make her shake the suspicion that someone was watching her from afar.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Who do you guys think was watching (Y/N)?? You'll have to stay tuned to find out! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5

Hawkeye (Part III)

Stumblin’ In Book VII: “Superhero Snapshots” Masterlist

Tagging: @mrs-obrien @lahoete @awkward117 @cminr @natdrunk @momc95 @savedbystyle @miraculouscloud @awkwardnesshabitat @marinettepotterandplagg @mangosandmimosas @supersouthy @benakenalove @brooke0297 @hufflepeople @becausewelie @outoftheregular @junipermurdock @ladydmalfoy @mads-weasley @username23345@crist1216 @capswife @lilmschild @avngrsinitiative @crowleysqueenofhell @y-napotat @mary1raven @groovyqueer @ljej95 @innersublimefury @prettysbliss

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peoplesgraves · 2 years

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Are you willing to write yandere spiderman that sets place during the events of nwh?

If you do can you make a one shot or headcanons about yandere peter parker with jealous of his variants with his s/o?

Thank you.

Yandere Peter Parker Jealous Of His Variants Headcanons

•Peter is stressed to the max. Sure he’s been stressed before like when trying to save the world but this is a whole new level.

•now on one hand Peter should be very prepared. I mean he’s taken down romantic rivals that were way more difficult then his variants. A Peter taking down peter’s should be easy but it’s harder then it seems.

•Sure I mean each Peter is kind of the same base but even that works out to be somewhat of a disadvantage. So many of the traits that you love about Peter are now had by two more people. Not only do they have a lot of things that he does but they have new things that he doesn’t have too!

•He worries that you’ll end up liking another Peter more then him. What if Peter 2 doesn’t get as jealous as him because he’s older and more mature? What if you fall for how sensitive Peter 3 is? Peter would try to emulate the other Peters more if he thought you’d like it.

•Peter is so shady to his variants. Sure Peter 2 made you laugh but has he ever made you laugh so hard that milk came out of your nose? Peter 1 has. He’ll one up everything Peter 2 and 3 do. Even if it’s embarrassing and you end up annoyed with him over it.

•The whole saving the multiverse thing is now accompanied by three spidey’s having lots of meaningless contests. Like who can swings the fastest and who’s butt looks the best in their suit. Peter 1 isn’t afraid to play dirty to win either.

•I think next he’d try to turn you on his variants. Whispering in your ear about how Peter 2 is really slowing down as spiderman or about Peter 3 and Gwen. He’ll talk himself up at the same time. Your Peter would never let anything happen to you.

#yandere peter parker #yandere spiderman #yandere spider man #yandere spidey #yandere x reader #yandere marvel #yandere mcu #yandere avengers #yandere superhero

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roleplay-today · 1 year

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Hey guys 29 f looking to RP a couple fandoms.

A few things first:

- I sometimes like a little smut normally 80 plot/ 20 smut but smut none the less so you must be over 18 preferably 21+

- I usually play an OC against Cannon characters

- I’m looking for someone who is pretty active, multiple responses a day if possible

- I love slow burns and a bit of drama

- a couple triggers: I don’t do incest, I don’t do suicide or depression, that is a hard stop

- I’m looking for someone who can do the character justice so challenge accepted right? 😉

- I like to write a lot, I usually write first person but I can do third and it’s usually past tense.

- also please don’t ghost me 😔 if you aren’t interested or get busy that’s totally totally fine! I completely understand but maybe give me a head start so I’m not like eagerly waiting for a response in a middle of a story that doesn’t come

✨ Fandoms ✨

Harry Potter: looking for

Ron

Fred or George

Draco

Cedric

Young Remus

Young Lupin

Marvel :

Tom Holland spiderman 😍 oh god please this is all I want haha

Tony Stark

Captain America

Bruce Banner

Loki

Outlander:

Jamie

Miraculous lady bug:

Cat Noir

DC:

Nightwing

Robin

Beast boy

Cyborg

And this one is sooooo niche and old school idk if anyone will get it haha

Wolf - from 10 kingdoms

OUAT- Hook

Inuyasha- Inuyasha, koga

Thank you for reading, send me a message if your interested!:)

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aswho1estuff · 2 years

Text

*click* *click*

#moodboard #edits #edit #red #spider man x y/n #spider man moodboard #spiderman #superhero #red moodboard #lover boy #love moodboard #character moodboard #spider man x reader #peter parker #peter parker x fem #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x yn

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omegadumb42069 · 2 years

Text

Stark's Daughter (Peter Parker x Reader): Character Information

WARNING: TALKS ABOUT MENTAL HEALTH AND DEATH

A/N: I do not own any GIFS or Pictures, they belong to their rightful owners.

I'll let you in on a little secret. Y/n is the most powerful being out there; now, I know some of you will stop reading this because I'm saying this, but she's gonna put up a few good fights; I'm not gonna let her win automatically. But being the most powerful doesn't mean you are the luckiest.

Name: Y/n Stark Maximoff

Age: 16

Background: When Y/n was born with the same powers as her cousin, Wanda Maximoff. Her mom is too overprotective of Y/n, and won't let anyone see her out in public. When she was eight, some word got out where Y/n was living, HYDRA quickly took the news and bomb the house. When the bomb went off in her home her mother was stuck under the debris and she told her to stay with her sister, Delila. As they were running another bomb went off which sent Y/n flying back. A bunch of stuff fell on her sister, which killed her instantly. Y/n then heard the HYDRA agents come to look for Y/n. She was in shock and then realized her sister and mother is dead. When the agents came in there holding their weapons, Y/n looked at them and the debris started to float around her. She tilted her head at them and then flicked her wrist causing every one of them to break their necks, killing them. She stayed there crying for a few hours until the cops came and got her out. They made sure she was okay and then asked her if there was anyone that she could go live with. She didn't answer them and they took her to the hospital and checked her records. At first, they didn't believe she was the daughter of Tony Stark but then after a certain agent convinced them, it turned out to be true. They contacted Stark and in a few hours, he sent Happy to the hospital to pick up his daughter and take her to his home. During the incident of 2012, Y/n became friends with Loki. She grew up and at age 13 she and Stark got into a huge fight which caused Y/n to run away. She used her magic to create a house of her own, it was close enough to attend the Midtown schools. the night she ran away, she was out to get something to eat at the grocery store and once she was walking out she saw a man trying to do something to a woman. At this point, she was filled with anger, pain, and sorrow. She killed the man but once she realized she did, she regretted it. She regretted killing him, she was scared so she walked out of the alley with the bag in her hands and blood all over her, keeping her head down. She bumped into a boy, and though she didn't apologize she just kept her head down and walked. When she got home she was confronted by Loki, after a couple of minutes, she heard a knock on her door. There was the boy she bumped into, he had her wallet and he brought it back to her. She looked at him and he just looked at her, she asked what his name was and he said his name was Blake. Ever since that day, Y/n and Blake became best friends. Ever since she was 13 she started going out in a costume hunting and beating people almost to death, she went on with this without anyone knowing. However, each time she does it she always gets a voice in her head telling her to kill them, she always ignores the voice but at times she comes really close to listening to it. Then she started going to school and there she met Peter Parker, who she hated the moment she laid eyes on him. At first, Peter was too cocky. To her, she thought Peter thought he was smarter than everyone else. Throughout the school years, both Y/n and Peter have been arguing over the tiniest things. One night when Y/n was out doing one of her self jobs, she was met by "Spider-man." He was in a hoodie and sweats. This caused her to laugh, he caught her in the middle of almost killing somebody. He tried to stop her but she escaped. The next day he spots her again and he threatened to take her down, this caused her to get annoyed and they started getting into a physical fight. From that point on she hated both Peter Parker and Spiderman. One day when Y/n came home from working out she found Steve Rogers in her living room, he tried to convince her that they needed help. Y/n of course wanted nothing to do with her dad and denied ever helping him. After so many attempts Steve finally gave up and left. Ironically Loki is the one to convince her to go and help the avengers. For the first time in 2 years, she comes face to face with her dad.

Alias: The Angel of Death, The Killer of Gods

Powers/Abilities: Chaos Magic

Power Explanation: You have the ability to manipulate, warp, and reconstruct the very fabric of existence and reality. It is a highly powerful and very dangerous form of magic. You can cause chaos and destruction to the cosmos, even rewriting entire multiverses on a whim. You can assimilate knowledge from the entire Multiverse. You have the ability to manipulate probability, causing unlikely things to happen or likely things not to happen, for example, if a loaded gun was pointed at you and then the person pulls the trigger it gets jammed therefore not shooting you, however, this can also work in negative ways as well. Since you don't know how to control your magic since you have so much, you can't figure it out. Having this quirk allows you to be unpredictable, it may cause destruction, especially if you're highly emotional. You also have the ability to manipulate other people's emotions, by having the ability to elicit emotional pain or fear in a person in the form of nightmare-like hallucinations and read people's thoughts. You can manipulate time in the general area or for a specific target in various ways, with the most basic of acts revolving around slowing, stopping, and even rewinding or looping time. You also have the ability to travel back in time and travel forward in time.

You can heal faster than regular people unless of course you are stabbed by vibrainum, then you will still heal faster the normal people but slower than usual. With that being said you can manipulate the life of a living organism, such as granting them extra lives, changing their lifespan, granting life to anything, resurrecting or reincarnating the dead. However, you don't know how to use this power just yet. You can control and generate the elements. You are capable of causing multiversal wide destruction and can take over the entire earth with a mere thought. You have vast psionic abilities, with these abilities, you can scan the minds of the entire world, neutralize psychic probes from powerful telepaths, erase the memories about yourself from every human being on the planet, etc. You can also easily change states of matter and has a host of other different powers. Your abilities have been described as equal to the celestials. If you wanted to, you can erase all human and enhanced people in a blink of an eye. You have power millions of times greater than the Multiversal scale. You can rearrange matter to create other configurations and can even transmute elements and manipulate space-time to a degree by using gravity to distort them. Your index fingers release an energy beam from your fingertips. You have the ability to create anything you see in your mind, and you can channel this energy offensively to create weapons or blasts of energy or defensively to create force fields to protect those you love. A powerful blast of energy is fired with two hands after concentrating a large amount of power. The ability to sense the energy of other beings You have a remarkable resistance to power damage, you can take a direct Celestial assault with minimal damage. You are able to merge with other beings into a double conscious being. You can also live until the end of your universe and grant the people you love the same power and pass them on to the next, of course only with their permission.

You can affect the air currents around you with your magic to produce powerful shockwaves in order to strike the opponent at mid-range. You can perform a two-handed energy technique in which the user stretches their arms out and blows the opponents away with dual-energy blasts. You can create a razor-sharp disc of power that can slice through almost any substance. You have the ability to create a powerful energy explosion attack which is a more powerful version of the Explosive Wave. You can gather huge amounts of energy from all chosen surrounding life forms and inanimate objects to conduct that energy into a massive sphere of astounding destructive power. Meaning you can look 21 but in reality, you're almost a million years old. The same thing with the other people you grant that power to, let's say you granted Natasha the 'never age' or 'longevity' power, she can still die from falling down a big height. With that being said, you can also grant them immortality along with longevity. You just couldn't do it sooner because you couldn't figure out how. You have the ability to receive information about a person or an object even though you have never directly seen them before. You can manipulate life on a cellular level as well as control all aspects of a living creature's biological makeup.

You are capable of taking energies from one target and putting or transferring it into several targets or beings. You can communicate with the dead when they either want to say one last thing before they go onto the next world or just want to talk to you one last time. You have the power that allows you to affect and harm intangible beings, such as ghosts, intangible demons, spirits, and things like Vision or Ultron. You're capable of replicating and multiplying yourself and others. You can hear, view, and observe people's location and condition by making projection image that shows an event that is happening in a faraway place. You can see things beyond what normal humans can, such as ghosts or people invisible. You can transform or transmute anything into anything else. You are able to move incredibly less than an attosecond, much faster than your cousin Pietro. You are able to look into the future of your own timeline, or any timeline you wish. When you use this power your hands start glowing a vibrant blue and a blue energy mist seems to emanate from your fingertips.

Your chaos magic includes these powers. Again You are Extremely OP so if you don't like that then I'm sorry, but I'm not changing it:

-Magic Energy Projection -Flight -Transmutation -Scrying -Space manipulation -Element Control -Gestalt Merge -Mystic Bolts -Spell Casting -Necromancy -Biological Manipulation -Transformation -Explosion wave -SuperSpeed -Transmutation -Replication -Pyrokinesis -Psionics (Mind control, telekinesis, telepathy, and teleportation) -Time Manipulation -Hydrokinesis -Summoning -Enhanced Senses -Precognitive Dreams -Illusions -Non-Physical Interaction -Aerokinesis - Energy Absorption -Density Control -Binding -Energy Transferal -Time Travel -Astral Projection -Magical Awareness -Fear Manipulation -Chronokinesis -Healing -Mimicry -Magical Telepathy -Mentifery -Force fields -Clairvoyance -Energy Constructs -Explosion Inducement -Terrakinesis -Autonomous Ultra Instinct -Portal Creation -Expert Combatant -Probability Manipulation -Superhuman Durability -Cryokinesis -Reality Warping -Astral Travel -Geokinesis -Ferrokinesis -gravity manipulation -Time Manipulation -Resurrection -Matter Manipulation -Mental Manipulation -Telepathy Resistance -Electrokinesis -Exorcism -Geo-Thermokinesis -Reality Creation -Energy Amplification -Life Manipulation -Dark force manipulation -Fundamental force manipulation -Levitation -Longevity -Amplification -Omni-Manipulation -Pain manipulation - Power Nullification - Typhokinesis -Good reflexes -Existence Erasure -Umbrakinesis -Soul Manipulation -Power Bestowal -Psychic Magic -Weapon Creation -Energy Manipulation -Concept Manipulation -Photokinesis -Master Tactician -Meditation -Conceptual & Perception Manipulation -Duplication -Perception Manipulation -Hex powers -Dispelling -Chaos Manipulation -Psychometry -Witch Sight -Witchcraft -Weather control -Emotional Manipulation -Memory Manipulation -Access to open different multiverses -Fear Manipulation -Power Usage Manipulation

Now, with all those powers out of the way, it's time to go over your weaknesses. Now there's not a lot of stuff that can do greater harm to you physically but mentally there's a lot.Physical weakness: When she fights hand-to-hand she can feel the punches, the kicks, etc. and it hurts her as much as it does a regular human but it doesn't do any life-threatening damages as it would to other people. She can't die from a stab wound, bullet wound, etc, but if they are made of vibranium, it will make her bleed more, feel more pain and feel on the verge of death. Though you can train your body not to be weakened by it so you won't die from it and just become a regular immortal but just feel the pain like a normal human being.

Mental weakness: You often have mental breakdowns, episodes of mental illness, and severe suicidal depression relating to your powers and personal traumas. With your probability manipulation, even though it helps you with a lot of stuff, it also brings out the unlucky part. People around you that you care about began to die, whether is by a car crash, murder, or anything. Now it may just be a coincidence but it may not. However, even though it can be controlled easier it will always happen and you can’t do anything about it.

Name: Blake Verity

Age: 16

Background: When he was 13 he was walking down the street and he felt a girl bump into him. He glanced over at her and saw she had blood all over her. He saw the dead body in the alleyway but he didn't question it. He saw that she dropped her wallet and he picked it up and followed her. He tried calling out to her but she kept ignoring his calls, he's guessing she couldn't hear him. When he got to her house he wasn't sure if he should knock because he didn't want to look like a creep, so after a few minutes of pumping himself up, he knocked on the door and waited for her to answer. Once she did, they introduced themselves and he handed back the wallet, and ever since then, they were inseparable. He's always been there for Y/n whenever she was having a bad day or when she's angry he's there to tell her to let her anger out, he tries to make her use her magic more, saying that it's not healthy to keep it inside all day.

Alias: The Phantom

Powers/Abilities: The Dark Truth

Power Explanation: Though he doesn't find out at the beginning of the story, he has the ability to force people to tell him the truth. However, his truth inducement doesn't seem to work on Y/n. He can only mentally receive and transmit information from Y/n's mind and no one else's. He also can feel only her emotions, no matter how far away she is away from him. Very rare can he possess the ability to learn and understand everything about a person by touching them without the need for special education or a long-term relationship. Has extremely accurate senses, allowing him to see, hear, smell, taste, and feel better than an average human. He is an expert fighter and was trained to kill, he trains with Y/n and helps her get better at fighting.

-Truth Inducement -Heightened Senses -Mind Reading (Only towards Y/n) -Telepathy (Only towards Y/n) -Empathy (Only towards Y/n) -Psycometry (Extremely Rare)

Physical Weakness: Though he is a highly trained expert fighter, he is still considered a mortal. This means he can feel all the pain anyone else can, he can still die just how every other human on earth can. Sometimes his heightened senses become too much and he becomes overstimulated and oversensitive.

Mental Weakness: He gets frustrated easily, but is able to calm himself down. Though when he's fighting the enemies he is more violent and dangerous, he tends to lose control when he's fighting the enemies and goes too far, killing them. He doesn't really care about murdering the enemies in fact he loves doing it, Y/n doesn't know about that though.

#Overpowerful #dangerous #superhero #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #x reader #peter parker x reader angst #peter parker fanfiction #enemies to lovers #angst #marvel fanfic writer #marvel fanfic series

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liliacamethyst · 11 months

Text

Web of Secrets - Miguel O'Hara

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 3.7K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

In your universe, you are known as the Sun Spider. It all started on a school field trip to a solar energy research center, where you were accidentally exposed to a spider that had been subjected to intense solar radiation. You woke up with a white-hot surge of power, and your life changed forever. You donned a suit of pure white, taking the name that reflected both your newfound abilities and the brightness you brought into the world: Spider-Sun.

Your ability to harness solar energy and transform it into powerful blasts or create protective shields made you a formidable superhero in your home city, Nea Yorkey. Your ability to bring light to even the darkest corners of your city earned you the love of its citizens.

However, everything changed when you were suddenly pulled into the Spider-Verse.

Upon arriving, you were greeted by the gruff leader of this interdimensional team of Spider-People, Miguel O'Hara. His reputation preceded him - the genius intellect, the imposing figure, the gruff demeanor. Everyone respected him, and some even feared him. You, on the other hand, were drawn to him. There was something about that guarded demeanor that called to your own sunny nature.

You became an integral part of the team, fighting off anomalies and working hard to maintain the balance in the Spider-Verse. And despite Miguel's stern exterior, you felt yourself falling for him.

One mission was particularly rough, and you found yourself alone with Miguel in a safe house, nursing your wounds. His usually stern face softened as he tended to your injuries. The distance that he usually maintained was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank you, Miguel," you whispered.

He looked at you, his usually hard eyes soft. "You fought well, mi sol."

There was a moment of silence, a strange tension hanging in the air. Then, Miguel leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was filled with unexpected passion.

In that moment, you were not the Sun Spider, and he was not the Spider-Man 2099. You were just two people, seeking solace in each other.

Afterwards, as you laid side by side, Miguel turned to you, a serious look on his face. "This...this can't be more than what it is. Just...you know, stress relief," he muttered, his voice just above a whisper.

His words wounded you. Naturally, they did. He had reduced your relationship to mere stress relief, as if you were some object devoid of feelings. Yet, in spite of it all, you fell for him. Perhaps you were naive, even foolish, but you didn't care. You yearned for him and were ready to accept any fraction of affection he was willing to offer, no matter how small.

During the day, as you fought alongside him against the anomalies threatening the Spider-Verse, his attention toward you was sparse. He mostly shared only necessary information, barely making eye contact. Sometimes he didn't speak at all, and you and the rest of the team would receive mission orders and briefings from Lyla, his AI assistant.

But at night, when the two of you were alone, he became a different person. He'd whisper praises into your ear, telling you how exceptionally you fought, how much he desired you. He showed you his hidden vulnerability under the cover of darkness, the sheets their only witness. He'd gently stroke your hair and peppered your jaw and temple with kisses until you fell asleep, only for you to wake up the next morning to an empty, cold spot where he once lay.

This cycle - his coldness by day, and the fervor by night - repeated itself relentlessly for months.

And so, this is how you find yourself: disoriented, frenzied, and on the verge of tears, seated on the couch of your best friend, Peter B. Parker, in Earth-616. Cradled in your arms is his sweet daughter, Mayday, who, with her innocent touch, tries to console you. Yet her wide eyes dart anxiously to her father, reflecting her own alarm at your distress.

Peter rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe we should wait until MJ gets home?" he suggests, then, with a furrowed brow, he asks, “Have you tried talking to Jess about this?”

You shake your head vigorously. "No, I haven't told anyone. I have no idea what to do," you confess, your voice breaking.

Peter, ever the caring friend, gently takes Mayday from your arms and sets her down. He turns back to face you with a sympathetic gaze. “Do you..eh.. know who the father is?” he inquires softly.

You shake your head again, even though deep down, you know the truth. “The father is out of the picture. He doesn’t know, and he never will because he doesn’t want kids,” you whisper, fighting back tears.

As you and Peter sit down on the couch in his cozy living room, you find a sense of comfort being around him. His experience as both a superhero and a parent seems like it could be a beacon in this storm you're facing. The room is quiet, save for the soft ticking of a clock on the wall.

“You know, Peter,” you begin, your voice almost a whisper. “I’m terrified. What if the baby has powers? How am I going to protect them, especially if...if I can’t stop fighting anomalies?”

Peter looks thoughtful. “That’s a valid concern. First, you should know that you don’t have to do this alone. There’s a whole community of us, and we stick together. If the child does have powers, she or he will be badass like Mayday, right?”

You nod slowly but then anxieties pile on top of each other in your mind. “But... how can I hide this? Nobody and I mean nobody is supposed to know that I’m pregnant. Especially not...” You trail off, not finishing the sentence.

Peter rubs his chin, deep in thought. “We could look into modifying your suit, maybe talk to some tech geniuses in the Spider-Verse about creating something that can shield or conceal the pregnancy.”

You roll your eyes. “That kinda defies the ‘nobody is allowed to know ‘ordeal, Peter. You have to promise me that this stays between us.”

“I promise,” Peter says sincerely.

Silence fills the room again, and then you voice another fear. “Peter, what if...what if I’m not a good mother? What if I mess this up?”

Peter smiles warmly. “You know, I had those same fears when Mayday was born. I think it’s normal for any parent. But, take it from me, the fact that you’re worried about being a good parent means you’re already on the right track. You’ve got a good heart. Trust it.”

You look down at your hands, fingers interlaced. “Thank you, Peter. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” he says with a reassuring smile. “We’re family, in this weird, Spider-Verse kind of way. But maybe… and I am sayig this as a father myself… reconsider telling the father. I can’t imagine any guy wanting to give up this.” He says, pointing to his precious daughter playing with a napkin she found on the floor.

"Maybe you should reconsider telling the father," Peter's words are echoing in your mind like a haunting melody. A part of you yearns for that possibility. Perhaps you're not alone in this. Maybe, just maybe, Miguel wants this as much as you do.With newfound resolve, you set off for the Spider-Verse headquarters, expecting to find Miguel tucked away in his office, immersed in maintaining the spider verse or as he calls it "arachno- something-multiverse-thingy” or something similar to that.

Upon reaching his office door, you pound on it sharply. No response. Frowning, you knock again, a little harder this time. When silence continues to greet you, you slowly turn the doorknob and peek inside. There he is, hunched over his desk, lost in a world of numbers and codes.

"Miguel, I-" you start, but his sharp voice cuts you off.

"No," he interrupts, his tone cold. "Did I say you can come in? Dios mio, why are you always so damn clingy?"

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stare at him, taken aback by his blatant disregard for your feelings. You can feel the beginnings of tears prick at the corner of your eyes, but you will them away.

He doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it like that. This mantra plays over and over in your head, like a broken record. You take a deep breath, forcing down the hurt his words cause.

"Look, Miguel," you begin, struggling to keep your voice steady. "There’s something we need to talk about, and I think it's important for you to listen to me."

“Fucking hell, woman! What exactly don’t you understand. I’m busy. I don’t care about your little problems, right now.” he barks, not even looking up.

“Miguel,” you speak up, forcing the words out through clenched teeth, “ I’ve never asked anything from you. Not once have did I ask you to stay, to feel the same I feel, to fucking talk to me when people are around. Please all I am asking you is to just ... listen to me, fpr once.” Your voice grows stronger as you speak, a determined fire igniting within you.

Miguel finally looks up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he seems taken aback by the resolve he saw there.

He rubs his temples. “Can we do this later?”

“No!” you shout. “It’s always later with you. You’re like...like a ghost. Just a figure in the hallway. I don’t need a figure, I need a person! I need someone who listens when...”

He glares at you, his eyes narrowing. “Okay, okay I will listen just not now. Whatever it is, it can wait.”

“No, it can’t,” you retort, your voice shaking a bit. “Why is it that every time I try to talk to you, you just brush me off? Am I that insignificant to you?”

He stands up abruptly, the chair skidding behind him. “This? This is what you want to talk about?” he says with a tone of annoyance. “Look, I have a million things to deal with and-”

“And what? And I’m not one of them? Just five minutes, Miguel! That’s all I ask!”

The room is tense. Your heart is racing. His eyes are fiery. It's a standoff.

“And what is so important that you have to disrupt everything right now?” he challenges.

Your breath catches in your throat. This is it. You're about to say it.

“I...” you stammer. “I need to tell you that...”

Suddenly, the door to the office swings open and Jess storms in.

“Miguel, we have a major issue in Sector 12! The anomalies...” she starts, then catches sight of your tear-streaked face. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

Miguel seems to shake off the tension and slips back into commander mode. “No nothing important. What’s happening in Sector 12?”

You can't believe it. Just like that, he turns away. It feels like your heart is being squeezed.

Jess starts rattling off data and scenarios. The two of them are talking, but you don’t hear it anymore. All you can think of is how you almost told him. How you just wanted five minutes.

Your hands shake and you quietly step out of the room. The door closes behind you, and it feels like a chapter that you can’t read has been sealed away.

The next day you are on Earth-8311, an anthropomorphic animal-dominated universe. It's the home of Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham, and you can't help but find it amusing.

The mission: to transport an anomaly, which resembles an enormous floating jellyfish, back to its home universe. It's been pure chaos here, and you are determined to set things right.

The team: Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker. You're all in your suits, eyes sharp, and webs at the ready.

"Alright, Spiders. Let's round this jelly up and send it home," Peter B. Parker takes charge, shooting a web towards a nearby building.

You swing alongside him, your thoughts a whirlwind. The world around you blurs - the animal citizens, the bustling cityscape, the strange yet familiar surroundings.

The anomaly appears before you, thrashing and pulsating as it floats through the sky. It releases blasts of energy that ripple through the air.

"Watch out, Sunny!" Gwen calls out as she dodges a blast.

You, however, are a split second too late. Your reflexes are off, your movements sluggish. The blast sends you spiraling towards the ground.

Hobie swings in and catches you mid-air, his guitar strapped on his back. “Get it together, Sun!” he shouts over the noise, his punk-styled hair waving wildly.

You shake off your daze and look up to see Peter B. Parker shooting webs to pull the anomaly back down, while Gwen is deploying a device to open a portal back to its home universe.

Your heart races as you focus on the task at hand. You need to get this right, not just for yourself, but for the life you’re now carrying. Your suit seems to glow even brighter in the chaos.

With a final combined effort, you manage to lasso the anomaly and push it through the portal. The anomaly disappears, and the portal closes behind it.

The team regroups on a rooftop. Gwen is catching her breath, Hobie is tuning his guitar, and Peter B. Parker gives you a concerned look.

“Are you okay?” Gwen asks, her voice laced with worry. “You weren’t yourself up there.”

The weight of the secret you’re carrying feels unbearable. But you're not ready to share it.

“Promise me you won’t tell Miguel about this,” you say, your voice barely audible.

Gwen raises an eyebrow, while Hobie crosses his arms. Peter B. Parker simply nods.

“Nah, Bossman doesn’t need to know about this,” Hobie says, and there’s a firmness in his voice that is strangely comforting.

Back in the HQ, your head spins, and your stomach feels like it's doing somersaults. You mumble a quick excuse about feeling nauseous and practically sprint to the nearest restroom.

Meanwhile, Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker head to the cafeteria to grab something to eat.

As they sit down at a table with their trays, Gwen breaks the silence. “Is it okay if I say that this mission was kind of easy? Like, I’ve seen Sunny take down Doc Ock from Earth-818, and she did that without any problem. So what was that today?” Gwen’s concern is apparent.

Hobie, munching on a sandwich, nods in agreement. "Yeah, it's like her spidey senses were jammed or somethin'. Never seen her like that before."

Peter B. Parker looks thoughtfully at his sandwich, then glances up at Gwen and Hobie. He’s torn, having promised you to keep your secret but also wanting your friends to understand why you were off your game.

"You guys remember when she fought Morlun on Earth-001? She was a totally smashin’ it, and today, she nearly got turned into spider-paste by a floating jellyfish. That ain’t right," Hobie adds.

Gwen’s eyes suddenly widen. "Oh my God! Do you think she’s in trouble? Like, something from her universe? Or maybe she's having an identity crisis! Should we stage an intervention?"

Peter B. Parker clears his throat. “Maybe she’s just having an off day.”

Gwen’s eyes narrow as she scrutinizes Peter. “You know something, don’t you?”

Peter scratches the back of his head, obviously uncomfortable. “Nope, no idea.”

Hobie puts down his sandwich and leans in. "Oi, mate. Spill your guts. There's something dodgy going on. She's always been our burst of sunshine, lifting the mood. But now she's... dimmed. What's going on with our Sunny, Parker?"

Before Peter B. Parker could answer Gwen’s barrage of questions, Jess - Spider-Woman - appears, her belly showing. She takes a seat at the table and, oblivious to the serious conversation that was taking place, asks them about their latest mission.

"So, how did your mission go?" Jessica asks, while munching on her Burger.

"Nothing to report, Jess," Gwen answers, a little too quickly, her face all sunshine and false smiles. Peter simply nod in agreement.

“Yah, all good!” Hobie chimes in, flashing a grin that seems a little too bright.

“How about you? How are you holding up?” Peter asks Jess, trying to steer the conversation away from the mission.

Jessica shrugs, not overly concerned, and bites into her burger. "'M good. You know, I'm so glad I can finally eat a burger again. At the beginning of my pregnancy, practically every food made me nauseous, especially after swinging around on missions.”

Suddenly, there's a moment of collective realization among Gwen, Hobie. It’s as if their spider senses are tingling in unison. They exchange knowing looks, all of them silently putting the pieces together.

Gwen’s eyes are wide, Hobie’s eyebrows are raised, and they both turn to look at Peter, who simply nods.

Jess, noticing the silent exchange, squints at them. “What is up with you guys? You’re acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.”

“Uh, nothin’!” Hobie says, a little too quickly.

“Yeah, just tired from the mission,” Gwen adds, trying to play it cool.

Jess rolls her eyes and stands up. “Alright, weirdos. I’m gonna go find some normal people to talk to,” she says jokingly and walks away.

After she leaves, the trio leans in.

“Sunny’s pregnant, isn’t she?” Gwen whispers.

Hobie's eyes are as wide as saucers. “That would explain everything!”

Peter B. Parker nods. “We need to be there for her, but remember, it’s her news to share when she’s ready.”

They make a pact to support you without pushing you to reveal anything before you're ready.

As you walk back into the cafeteria, you find your friends huddled together. They break apart when they see you and welcome you back with smiles and light conversation, but something in their demeanor is different but you can’t put your finger on it. They are being more attentive, considerate, and frankly, a little too curious about your well-being.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sunny?" Gwen asks for the third time since you sat down. Her concern is genuine, but her intensity is slightly off-putting.

"Yeah, do you need anything?" Hobie offers, his eyes gleaming with unspoken curiosity. "Food, drink, or maybe... pickles?" Pickles? Thats oddly specific.

There's a burst of laughter from Gwen, and even Peter is suppressing a chuckle.

"What's up with the pickles?" You ask, looking at them suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing!" Gwen says, a little too quickly, trying to hold back her laughter.

"Hmm, pickles and ice cream, a weird combo, innit?" Hobie wonders aloud, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Again, there's suppressed laughter, and you look at each of them, a realization slowly dawning on you. You turn to Peter, your gaze steady and serious. "You told them, didn't you?" Peter looks shocked, but quickly composes himself. "I didn't exactly tell them, per se," he confesses, "I might've confirmed their suspicions when they asked, but they figured it out on their own. Spider senses and all that jazz.”

Before you could respond, Gwen and Hobie jump in, both talking over each other in an attempt to apologize.

"We're sorry, Sunny," Gwen says sincerely. "We didn't mean to invade your privacy, it's just that... we're worried about you. Please don’t be mad."

Hobie nods, adding, "And we're right behind ya, whatever comes our way. We've got your back, no doubt about it."

You are happy, while the situation isn't ideal, but at least you're not alone. You have friends who care about you and, despite their unconventional way of showing it, they are there for you. You smile, comforted by their concern, and grateful for their support.

"Yeah," you finally say, "I guess we’re gonna need a lot more pickles and ice cream around here, huh?"

“Sooo...who’s the dad? Is he hot?” Gwen, leaning on the table with her elbows, asks shyly after a while.

You let out a long sigh, “He’s very hot... but also a colossal jerk.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “You took my advice and talked to him then?”

You shake your head, your eyes starting to well up. “No, I tried. But he wouldn’t listen to me. He was busy, and I guess I wasn’t important enough. So, the baby won’t be either,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hobie's eyes narrow, and his face is flushed with anger. "Who's this bloke, eh? I swear on me nan's grave, I'll give him a right proper earful! No one treats our Sunny like a tosser and gets away with it!"

Gwen jumps in, her eyes wide with speculation, “Wait, is he a Spider? Is it Peter? Or the other Peter? Or—”

“Guys, guys!” you cut them off, your voice cracking. “Please, it doesn’t matter. He made it clear where I stand, and it’s not with him.”

There’s a silence that settles over the table as your friends look at each other and then back to you. Their faces are a mix of concern, sadness, and frustration.

Peter B. is the first to break the silence. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You’ve got us. If the dad doesn’t want to step up, then he’s missing out on something amazing.”

Gwen nods, her eyes firm with resolve. “Yeah, we’re family. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Hobie, still fuming, finally calms down enough to say, "All you gotta do is whistle, love, and we'll be there in a blink. Even if it means thumping some manners into this mystery idiot."

You can't help but crack a small smile, despite the tears. You’re overwhelmed by the love and support your friends are giving you.

“Thanks, guys. You don't know how much this means to me.”

They all reach out and there’s a group hug right in the middle of the cafeteria. You didn’t know how much you needed this until it happened.

Part 2 “Webs of Fate”

a/n: Thank you guys for all your love on this fic so far.I really appreciate each like, comment, reblog <3. I still can’t reply to your comments so please if you want to tagged (and are not already) comment on part 2 and I’ll do my best and add you.Also I am open to requests, critic and wishes. Have a wonderful day. xx

15K notes · View notes

nouearth · 9 months

Text

lessons in kissing.

dick grayson x male reader x peter parker.

summary: dick and peter become your professors in kissing 101 (& more).

wc: 6.2k. genre: smut. warnings: top!peter, top!dick, bottom!reader, handjobs, blowjobs, kissing, cum-swapping, mouth-fucking, threesome, unprotected rough!sex, reader's first time, characters are aged up!

notes: yeah, so um... this might be my dirtiest smut yet. this was also my first time writing a threesome soooo, i hope i did okay? thank you, anon!

request by: anonymous.

“you’re lying! you’ve really never kissed anyone before?”

“dude, like, ever?!” peter gasped, and you turned towards him, slowly nodding while you grew cautious of everyone’s confusion.

“not even when you were in kindergarten?” you twisted your neck for the nth time at the sound of dick’s voice again, and shame unexpectedly crept onto you the more the two men collected their bafflement together.

your cheeks and neck flamed as they both stared at you, bewildered as if your confession was akin to an unmasking of a superhero—like a family of lemurs, a small one, you’d reckon.

“geez,” your hand clutched onto the can of sparkling water harder before downing it, ridding your insecurity in several hard and fizzy gulps. “if i knew i was going to be interrogated, i wouldn’t have told you guys in confidence.”

“no, it’s just…” a careful exchange was puzzled together by the two men. dick shrugged and peter stammered, following you into the kitchen of his apartment. “i mean, not to make you feel weird or anything, but you’re not ugly.”

“i- pete, was that supposed to be a compliment?” your eyes narrowed at him jokingly, maintaining the coldness of your gaze to break peter into nervous stammers.

“w-what, no!“ he shook his head and approached you closer, a mixture of awkward laugher filling the feigned tension between the both of you. “wait- no, i mean, yes! it’s a compliment.”

you’ve always found it cute.

“i think what peter means is…” bouncy steps followed you two into the kitchen, more-so to sate his appetite for pizza after losing his tenth consecutive match on a game, but consider his curiosity piqued. a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese didn’t stop him from joining. “you’re handsome, he talks about it all the time.”

“dude...” peter grumbled and instinctively turned his body away out of your sight, sipping at nothing in his cup. the only fizz left was the glare he sent dick; like a sparkler on holiday festivities.

“oops, my bad,” another bite, and dick took his cup of soda to gulp the grease down. “we find you handsome—though, i’m pretty sure (m/n) knew that since i hit on him when we first met.”

“god,” you laughed it off, picking the pizza box of gloopy cheese to take it in your mouth. “can you imagine? my first kiss being with you? or even peter?”

yes, you can imagine. those thoughts had run rampant since you met them in freshman year of university, expanded upon it even. what would it be like to date dick? how soft were his lips? and the same for peter. sometimes, you’d even think about making out while he was in his spider-man costume, but that fantasy was shamefully bookmarked into a deep abyss of thoughts, only sprouting when you would touch yourself at night.

“why?” peter turned back, almost offended, while dick’s laughter joined you, and you swear you can feel a draft from how quickly he twisted around. “is that weird?”

“kinda?” the conversation made you shift on your feet. it was more intimate than what you were used to, and they knew it too, judging by the way they both stared at you again—hyenas. “i mean, i guess it’s because we’re so close now, so…”

“pft, that never stopped me,“ it was like a magic spell drew that confession out of dick. your fingers would have to be cut to coerce that out of you, but you weren’t dick—shameless and confident, you admired it on good days.

nonetheless, you and peter both gave dick a questioning look. offended would be a regular person’s first reaction, but from the brief exchange you and peter shared, it was unanimous that curiosity took the lead.

dick’s gaze shifted from you and peter, and when the silence drew out for longer than he would’ve thought, a welcoming draft in the room awaited his rebuttal. “come on- you seriously think i stopped thinking about you guys just because we’re best friends now?

“dude, you think about me?” peter’s eyes widened. it would’ve been hilarious if you weren’t involved. you would’ve passed this off as a banter, no more than that.

you hated to admit it, but you felt yourself throb at this revelation. blood rushed downwards in light speed and you were barely conscious to the drone of peter and dick’s chatter, but you shook it off, laughing at their banters like you aways did.

the day went on like usual. peter’s collection of video games kept you guys entertained for a few hours. when you felt fatigued from mashing your thumb onto the buttons for the ninth match, a walk downtown sufficed. laughing and bantering were the core of your friendship with dick and peter—like every friendship you’d imagine.

but at its finest, it was their vulnerabilities to you, and yours to them, that kept the foundation strong. they trusted you with every secret of theirs, aided them in a few missions of their own, and your friendship thrived.

the next few days haven’t been exactly the smoothest. you were quieter than usual, and they both took notice because you’d pick at your food while their voices—questions and comments—were ignored, passersby to the street of hearville.

was it that weird to have never kissed at your age? to never have had sex? to not even have had held hands with another guy? they never made fun of you, but you couldn’t help but let these thoughts run rampant.

no. no, it wasn’t. people have their own pace. mine... just somehow happens slower.

you weren’t insecure, but you still felt weird. you suddenly became moody when you saw dick and peter, like you want to be left alone, push them out of your apartment when they drop a visit, drop their pants and suck them off-

oh.

ohhhhh.

dick and peter.

“teach me.” you suddenly spoke out and the two men looked up from their plate of food, exchanging a look with each other before questioning you, humored because you barely spoke all day. the tv played in the background and you were all sitting on the ground, eating off of peter’s very… very small coffee table.

“ah, i almost forgot what your voice sounded like, (m/n)!” dick laughed, twirling his fork into his pasta before shoving the food into his mouth.

you made a slight pout, only because they weren’t taking you seriously. though, to be fair, you have been acting weird all week.

“with what?” peter noticed, a little more serious in his inquiry. but food was more of a priority for him, you can see him practically sweating at the thought of leaving his spaghetti cold.

“pete, you can still eat-“ you laughed, taking a bite of your food.

“oh, thank god.” and peter does the same, chowing down on his spaghetti after a hard day of saving lives.

dick cleaned his palette with a cold gulp of soda, a refreshing hiss when the bubbles trickled down his throat. “so, teach you what exactly?” he continued on. “fighting? oh, dude, are you going to be a vigilante-“

“no, no! does it look like i have the strength to be like batman or something?”

“well, i’m guessing that’s why you came to us for training?” dick amused himself, and peter chuckled, much to your annoyance.

“guys, i don’t want to be a vigilante.” you grumbled, beginning to bury your confession deep in the pit of your stomach somewhere. “or a superhero, or a guy in a spider-suit with weird web things.”

“hey, they’re not weird-“

“i want to…” it was calming to watch the way your fork swirled itself into the pasta, metal tongs pierced and capturing a wave of sauce and spaghetti all in one swirl. “learn what it’s like to kiss.”

peter choked on his glass of water.

you continued, hot in the cheeks because you can see peter’s widened eyes even when you look away. “handjobs, blowjobs, everything…”

and a piece of dick’s meatball was caught in his throat.

a low drone accompanied the silence once the tv was muted and while a huge weight lifted off your shoulders and chest, you felt small knowing how vulnerable and weird your request sounded.

“so, you want us to teach you how to…” dick cleared his throat and you feel like you could hear a smile, but you weren’t sure if that was your mind trying to convince you that everything was fine. “kiss and… other things?”

“yeah,” you continued to avoid your gaze, opting for the wooden floor instead. “i know, it’s weird. you don’t have to say yes or anything, it’s just-“

“is that why you’ve been acting stand-offish lately? peter was worried. he was the type to always blame himself of someone else’s behavior, no matter how much you tried to reassure him. though, you guess, he technically was the reason why you became so moody—part of it, anyway.

“mhm.” the silence was defeating, you can hear their necks turn to look at each other—of judgement, most likely.

and it was all but confirmed when you can see them hopping back onto their feet and running—running as far from you as possible. “guys, wait, i’m sorry-“

you looked up and watched them dash to peter’s bathroom, immediately chasing after the trail of their steps in bewilderment. “what are you-“

“first step, make sure you have good breath.” dick handed you your toothbrush, his spare one at peter’s already brushing into the foaming spearmint in his mouth.

“atleastluntilhelikeyousenough” peter gargled thick and incoherent, brushing into his jumbled sentence.

“uh-huh, okay… seems a little obvious, but…” you spread the toothpaste on the bristles of your brush and began brushing, a smile forming because you have to brush the front teeth too—but also because of your best friends.

you can always count on them.

“you ready?” dick naturally became the leader of this impromptu training program. he was the most experienced considering how many women and men you caught him with, and as much as you hated that when you were roommates with him, his expertise was needed in this moment.

“yes.” you sat in the middle of peter and dick, rubbing your sweaty palms against your shorts. a mere flash of regret ignited inside of your beating heart, but peter rested his hand on top of one of yours, squeezing ever so gently to warm and soothe you—to pacify you.

and your worries were quelled when dick does the same, his smile softer, countering his usual playful attitude. “just stop me whenever you feel uncomfortable.” he made you feel safe.

you looked at peter, and he nodded in agreement, his fingers now intertwined with yours. he had always kept you safe, feeling safe, this was a normal feeling towards him. “same with me.” “i will.” your voice was quiet in the bedroom, a mere soft whisper, but they recognized your will to be more vulnerable with one another, to blossom. and dick appeased it with a kiss.

light and feathery at first to test the water, but once dick heard your breath hitch, he applied more pressure in between your lips, capturing them in a slow waltz that kept you on your toes, yet flat on your feet to contain your excitement—your relief.

it was awkward at first, to find your footing. your nose would bump into his, teeth as well, but dick chuckled, assuring you this will always happen.

unbeknownst to you, dick’s been wanting to do this since he met you, and he savored every second. “remember what i told you… build it up.” he reminded you because you were getting eager, following his lead but returning his kiss in hard sucks. “nice and slow.”

peter’s palm on your thigh pressed gently onto your bare skin, mistakenly under the lift of your shorts because he was too in awe of the kiss, but they grounded you from your brief flight to the heavenly clouds nonetheless.

“nice and slow…” dick repeated, and you succumbed to his reminder like a prodigy. “that’s it.” it lasted for a few seconds longer until you pulled away to capture your breath again. your lips tingled still, remembering the taste of spearmint when dick’s breath ghosted on your skin.

“was that okay?” an innocent question, but you swore you stole that exact same tone from a porn you watched the other day.

“a natural,” dick laughed, stroking your hair back and you’ve never see him so affectionate—loving, as he doted on you. “try it on peter. more touching though, if you’re okay with that.”

you nodded and turned your head, meeting peter’s gaze with a flushed smile, your lips slightly swollen from your previous endeavor. “I’m okay with that.”

“me too.” peter smiled, only softening when you leaned in, and it completed hid against you when you captured his smile with a kiss.

his hand gently placed on the back of your head when you did and he pulled you closer into him, returning the kiss, and spilling his breath into yours, while at the same time, drawing yours out. “rub my chest, i like it when people do that.” peter whispered in between each kiss.

you do as you were told, a gentle hand to peter’s broad chest, and you feel yourself tightening, satisfied with how intimate this all is as you felt the muscles on his chest through the fabric.

in the meantime, dick’s been squeezing at the bulge in his pants, containing his will to completely ravish you simply by watching the way you and peter made out. he’s always been observant, noticing the strong twitching of peter’s own erection, and soon yours when peter slid his tongue into your mouth.

it was tantalizing—breath-taking— watching intimacy build up and vulnerabilities become unimaginably pliant before him. the pink muscles looped and swirled with one another, spreading and sharing sticky saliva until your mouth and peter’s were practically coated in it, glossed in sheen.

when peter pulled away, your lips were immediately stolen by dick again, kissing you with more strength than before, stubbornly refusing the chance for you to restock on oxygen as he wanted a taste of you too. the air became thicker, harder to breathe, but you basked in the taste, the wetness of dick’s tongue, and allowed yourself to become weak in his arms when he took you in, embraced you closely. “mmf...” you moaned out, breathing harder.

but just like dick, peter wasn’t finished with you, directing his tongue and lips to the back of your neck when you turned away. his ticklish and fleeting kisses pulled you back into peter’s arms, but dick noticed and pulled you forward: a stubborn game of gentle tug of war.

they wanted you, every piece of you. it was telling as peter sucked into your neck, venomous and poisoning, and when dick began directing your hand under his shirt, allowing you to feel his toned stomach and chest, and eventually his clothed erection, making you squeeze around it with an open palm.

lessons have completely escaped to the back of minds, and all that remained was pure lust.

“it’s okay if you don’t want to.” dick reassured. though, ironically, his hand atop of yours, relieving the ache in his pants continued.

through swollen lips, you managed to mutter, distracted by peter’s bruising sucks to other areas of your neck and skin, whimpering when he bit a little too hard. “i did say teach me everything…” his hands were under your shirt now, warming your bare skin with his palms, excited, but fleeting as they immediately tied to the buttons of your shorts when you gave the okay.

“hey, hey,” dick laughed, watching the way peter has grown grandly impatient. “you’re going to scare him, horn dog.” he left a kiss on your lips, a quick one before leaning past you to kiss peter.

you watched in awe at what a kiss was supposed to be like: burning with ease and passion with every stroke of their lips, no hesitation at all—just a moment of time that they’ll remember. you backed into the bed and leaned against the headboard as they kissed at the foot. you don’t remember having your hand down your shorts, but you do, palming yourself to your own private show.

the kiss ran sloppy, drool dripping down either chins, stained with intimacy, and clothes were quickly tossed to the side, with no care in the world.

you followed.

even though you were similar height to peter, he was stronger—they both were. and now, you felt smaller as they climbed onto the bed, towards you, bare and hardened. you watched breathlessly, as their cocks swung heavy with heat. peter’s pre-cum dripped thickly in yearn for something to fuck, while dick’s throbbed for something to fill—a porn scene come to life—and you were left agape, jaw and legs.

“kinda surprised we’ve never done this sooner,” peter said, you weren’t used to his voice so low. kneeling on the bed, by your left hip, he took your hand and kissed the palm, the wrist of it, skimmed his lips over your forearm before guiding It toward his cock, aching for your touch. “though, was hoping i’d have you to myself, but…” gently, your hand was cradled to wrap around his shaft, warm and running with veins, it pulsed. “this works too.”

your chest rose with every spoken word, and peter has never looked hotter. taking control of you like that made your skin crawl, a spell that commanded you to move your hand back and forth, conjuring you to pump him in slow strokes.

contrary to his overall demeanor, his actions were of warmth. caresses to your head, doting on you with honey dripping from his gaze and cotton in touch while you sinned.

you didn’t know where to look—to fall in love with the way peter gazed at you like a painting in a museum, or to salivate over the way his pre-cum leaked thickly over your hand when you squeeze it out of him, like a bottle of maple syrup.

that became more a problem—a dilemma—when you felt a wetness over your right nipple, then a sting when dick bites to get your attention—selfish and stubborn, like always. “are you sure this wasn’t a tactic to get all three of us in the same room? you seem comfortable.”

he tongued your nub, flicking back and forth to make you squirm, to hear the sound of your moans, to be the reason you have trouble sleeping at night. alongside, his palm ran over your body—chest first, down your stomach, and finally, your erect cock and balls.

you watched, breathless, continuing to stroke peter’s cock and he’d lean over to give you a few kisses here and there. for the most part, he was content like this, watching you squirm while maintaining to do the best to pleasure him.

“no, i swear- it’s just-“ dick played with your balls, squeezing and tugging on the tight sack to loosen them. every man was sensitive down there, you were no exception. “you guys made me feel safe, so…”

“well,” you looked up when peter spoke, his eyes fluttered shut, and you only got them to open when you thumbed the slit of his head, rubbing slick all over his glans, then the length of his cock when you continued stroking. “we are superheroes.”

you all laughed, switching gazes between the both of them, but it was dick’s mouth suddenly wrapping around you that made you concentrate only on him.

“oh, fuck…” warmth surrounded you, inhaled you in one shallow breath, before dick pulled you out of his wet mouth, taunting you with the loss of heat.

“it’s just like kissing,” he said, licking a stripe over the underside of your cock, tonguing his favorite spot: the neck of the glans and the frenulum. dick followed the lines of flesh with precision, leading the very tip of his tongue into the duct of your urethra—once again, tonguing it while his eyes focused on you, devious. “but let curiosity take you further and explore every part of their body.”

“m-mm…” you were sure there was meaning to his words, but they fell on deaf ears. instead, you focused on the ample heat that engulfed you again, moaning.

“every.” dick took you in and pulled you out with a pop.

“fuck-“ you breathed out, curling your toes into the sheets.

“part.” holding your cock up and stroking sloppily, he inhaled your ballsack. sweaty and musty, they must’ve been, but dick devoured the scent, the taste of sins with hungry sucks and licks—ardent and full of fervor.

and at the moment where you most expected to let out a moan, it was shoved down your throat when peter suddenly situated you in between his legs and filled your mouth with his thick cock, smelling of sweat and sex when you inhaled near his trimmed hairs.

“come on,” peter briefly pulled out, tapping the plump tip over your lips. “you learn best when you demonstrate what you’ve been taught.”

peter covered your view of dick, but you weren’t sure if you needed to see him because you felt every maneuver of dick’s tongue, now drowning your cock with his mouth while he continued assaulting your sensitive balls, tugging and squeezing.

you looked up and peter never looked bigger, more intimidating, but it’s become your new addiction, and you take his cock, holding it thick and take in what you can. it was barely past the tip before you could feel yourself gagging, but with peter’s reassurance, you swallow more of him every time you went down, slicking him up with your spit.

“how’s he doing, pete?” your cock was left cold when dick pulled away to speak, but he made up for it with his hand, stroking his spit with your cock.

“he really is a natural.” peter chuckled, watching you with a scrunched face of pleasure whenever you pulled him deeper into your mouth. almost down your throat now, but he pulled his cock back completely before you can fully take him. “you try.”

“fuck, yes.” dick leaped over and used the spit from your length earlier to lube his own cock, spitting in his palm and stroking when it wasn’t slicked to his likening while peter scooted back to kneeling at your side, stroking himself now.

as your head was positioned in between both their cocks, dick’s was bigger, thicker—a mouth stretcher you’d imagine. but peter’s was longer, veinier, and the only thing they had in common was that their balls hung loose. in porn terms, hung like a horse.

and on this very day, you considered yourself a lucky man because you have no objection to either, no will to pick and choose.

“look at you,” dick’s voice was rugged, deep, and he pushed his cock past your swollen lips. there was a clear difference in girth. your mouth was stretched wide, and you could only hum a sound of satisfaction, even with the slight sting from the stretch of skin. “who knew you’d be such a cock lover, hm?”

“he can’t get enough of it, god…” peter was in awe, salivating and stroking quicker at the sight.

two hands kept dick’s cock still in your mouth while you sucked on the bulbous tip like a lollipop. the rest of your hands stroked whatever you couldn’t mange to fit in your mouth. you were apologetic at first, but dick’s smirk told a simple story of his ego, clearly aroused by the size of his own cock as it only grew wider when you struggled downing him, gagging with a whimper.

“come on… (m/n), you can do better than that. you were so good at sucking peter off, kissing us too. what happened?” dick pulled away to stroke himself with your spit, but he quickly buried any excuses into your throat when he pushed himself into your mouth.

“you’re too comfortable now, (m/n). you’re slacking…” peter joined the banter, and when dick pulled out of your mouth, peter’s cock replaced the loss of warmth to your surprise.

holy shit, this is happening.

like a see-saw, the two men alternated in filling your mouth, stuffing saliva further and further down your throat, without allowing a single excuse from you to escape. it’s buried now, deep in the pit of your stomach, and all you can do was be the prodigy that they wished for you to be.

when it was dick’s turn to stretch your mouth, you made sure that peter’s cock wasn’t left abandoned, stroking him with distracted strokes, and vice versa when it was his turn at your throat. you overworked yourself in pleasuring your two best friends, making sure they were satisfied with you, with your mouth as you took more of them without a single plea for a break.

“fuck, there we go…” occasionally, dick would take control by holding the back of your head and fucking inside of your tight mouth. drool leaked down either corners of your mouth while you let him, tears brimming in your eyes when your throat tightened again, a familiar feeling that dick encouraged to hold back. “there’s my star. taking cock like a good student.”

if there was one thing that these very brief lessons have taught you, you were exactly what they named you: a cock lover. you slurped at whatever—whoever—entered your mouth absentmindedly, spat on cocks that have begun to look more or less the same, because it was dizzying now. your cock was left alone, but it stood tall and proud, throbbing as the two men harassed your face and mouth with their erections. one would gag you while the other had his balls shoved to your face and nose, sliding its wet, dirty slick all over your skin, staining you with lust.

it alternated like this for a while, and you were content, so was dick and peter. but you needed more—something to fill you elsewhere that wasn’t your dirty mouth. and you pleaded with your eyes, looking up at your best friends with delighted tears, a mouthful of cock, and a gaze only a cock loving whore could have—and they recognized it.

peter was reluctant to pull away, he was so close. but he’s always been selfless. he released his hold on you and it was a struggle to pull you away, but he did with your lips suctioning off with a quiet pop. a thick string of spit that once connected between your lips and peter’s cock laid like webs on your chin, cooling as you watched the two men reposition themselves.

“i’m going to assume we don’t need a lesson in how to finger yourself, hm?” dick whispered against your swollen lips and kissed you again. you were entranced under his tongue, swirling all over yours like ocean waves while you touched yourself to his licks. you twisted and pinched your nipples, tugged on them with the occasional help from dick, then stroked your cock while dick continued from peter’s original trail of bruising kisses to mark his own territory on your body. you were as horny as they were, if not hornier, and you needed them inside of you, in any way possible.

“fuck, i need you guys so bad.” breathless in your moans, your legs squirmed when you felt something wet between your thighs when they were raised, peter’s nice girth sliding in between the plump skin.

he thrusted himself slow and steady while he worked on your hole, reaching down to prepare you with his lubed digits, one by one. you’ve done this before, they were surely aware, so it wasn’t a unit that was particularly focused.

in between preparation, your mouth remained on dick’s cock again, delivering him your fullest attention with several lathers of your tongue, sucking hard and hollow, deep into your throat. you remember what he taught you and occasionally stuffed your mouth with his balls, sucking on the weight and letting go with a pull because you got off on seeing how they tensed and jiggled when you did.

“i’ll go slow.” peter leaned in with your legs hooked over his shoulders, bending you back, and kissing the tip of your nose when he was close enough to your face. “tell me if you want to stop.”

once you nodded, allowing him the will to deliver on his promise, peter made sure to lube himself up once more before pushing inside of you, slow and steady. he was careful, watching your face as it scrunched when the head slid in—burned when the rest of him filled you to the brim.

it was almost like you couldn’t breathe. it was too much, to be bearing all of this pain alone, but at the same time, you held peter close, wrapped your arms around him to prevent him from leaving you while you buried tiny whimpers into his neck, because you don’t want to stop feeling it, so full and devoured. it was written all over their faces when you glanced at them—they didn’t want to stop either.

peter and dick decorated your skin in wet kisses, distracting you from the pain while peter began to find a rhythm. although slow, you were beginning to familiarize yourself with this pain. soon after, pleasure, when he struck something inside of you, a certain spot.

“oh- peter, right there, fuck.” your legged tightened around him and the sweat from your thighs rolled back onto your stomach when peter re-adjusted himself to fuck you at a higher angle, folding you onto your back.

“yeah? right here?” peter thrusted into that spot dead-on, like a dart to a bullseye, and you groaned, your throat aching in pleasure, but dick pacified it with his cock again, filling you up once more. “oh fuck, look at you. all of your holes are filled up, fuck… so fucking tight”

“baby, you’re doing a great job, god…” your heart beat when dick called you that. it was always something he said as a joke when he arrived to your place. honey, darling, you name it, but the fact that it came out so genuine, it made your skin flush red and you could only respond in moans while you sucked him off. “i think he likes it when you fuck him like that, pete.”

for the first time, you felt wanted.

peter’s thrusts were hard and strong, his balls swung into with every rhythm. you can see the muscles in his thighs flexing whenever he pounded down into your tight hole, your bodies colliding like waves to a rock. it stung whenever his skin slapped into yours, sweaty and musky, but the sinful sounds were well-worth the prize as you basked in them, in the taste of dick’s cock, the sound of peter’s grunts, the flutter of dick’s eyes when you gargled his cock again, deeper, the sweat dripping from peter’s forehead and body—the bedroom hailed of sex. it rocked of brutal creaks and slams as both of your holes were violated and filled to the very brim, all driven by pure lust.

after some time, they switched spots, tag-teaming so dick can have his turn at your hole. unlike peter, he was rougher, immediately pounding into you because he was sex-crazed about you, couldn’t stop thinking about you since day one of meeting you.

“fuck, better than i’ve ever imagined,” he laughed into your mouth, kissing you sloppily, and pulling away when peter’s cock impatiently wedged himself in between the kiss, and you were back to sucking and jerking off cock again—no complaints. “still so tight, even after peter fucked you so hard…”

“it’s like he was made to be a whore, right?” such vulgar language from your best friends broke the original portrayal you had of them. now, all you could think about was how they wanted to absolutely make a wreck out of you, de-blossom your naive thoughts of what your first time should’ve been like.

it wasn’t what you had imagined. it was supposed to be with one person. a full-time commitment to your relationship. a loving pair holding each other close when they both climax. it was going to be special.

but this… you thought to yourself as you were fucked into the bedsheets with absolutely no mercy, your ass pained and bruised from dick’s muscular hips driving into you every time he came down, harassing you in that familiar spot again.

this was… peter pushed on your bottom lip with two fingers to open your mouth, then spitting in the void, some catching onto your tongue, before shoving his swollen cock inside of you again, aching to touch—to fuck.

dick palmed your cock as you writhed, bent under him, moaned around peter’s long cock. he gathered all of his strength left to tickle you deep, to reach inside of you with his cock, breathless and panting with every thrust that rocked the two of you together—three, when peter fucked into your mouth.

this was so much fucking better.

“holy shit-“ under dick’s touch, you came hard in several thick ropes, all over his fist, and then the sweat of your body when he opened his palm. you were a natural shooter, accidentally spraying your face with your own thick semen, and you heard peter and dick moan in unison, in awe.

seeing you dressed in cum like this had them race each other to their climax. dick fucked you harder, his grasp on your hips bruising and white, while peter held onto your head and met your throat with his cock, repeatedly forceful in strength. you gagged around him, and they only benefitted from every sound you made.

“fuck, i’m going to-“ you watched peter’s abs flexed, tightened as his stomach pooled with pleasure, and you can hear the holy bells ring when he pulled out of your mouth, jerking his wet and slimy cock off until he came undone in thick spurts, all over your pretty face. not a single shot was missed, painting you in white like a canvas with every last drop.

you were still high off of your own orgasm, and you turned your head to watch dick fuck himself into you, clearly wonder-strucked by the scene before him. you were covered in cum all over. they beckoned him to join, the many loads on your body. they were begging now, a mantra of pleas pulled him closer to you, and he can smell the sex off of you, inhaled peter’s musk as well, and again—those holy bells rang.

with the speed of lightning, dick pulled himself out of your abused hole and climbed over to kneel over your chest, fucking into his fist while simultaneously jerking his cock off over your face. to your cum-covered body, to peter kissing his spunk off your cheek and chin then your lips, to the taste of your own cum when you swiped a load off your chest and fed it into dick’s mouth. he suckled, bittersweet salt spread over his tongue, and he was ravished by the taste of you.

dick then pushed his hips out and aimed his cock over your lips, still connected to peter’s for a messy kiss, stroking until the only reason he tore his gaze away was because his lids fell heavy, ceased his sight to roll his eyes back, and came with a shudder. thick ropes of cum inked on your face and peter’s, but most of it fell to your connected lips.

“fuck, that’s hot…” dick muttered, rolling his shoulders back while he milked himself to you and peter making out, cum-stained and all. you moaned at the taste, saltier than yours and peter’s, and peter does the same while scraping a load of warm cum from the corner of your cheek and into his mouth before kissing you again, swapping the gloopy residue with a sloppy exchange of tongues.

he was envious, watching how the sticky load caught onto your lips then peter’s when he squeezed himself dry. before you and peter could take all of his cum for yourself, he leaned down to join peter for a kiss, stealing the mound of cum that peter has expertly hidden on his tongue. dick didn’t know who he was tasting anymore. but whether it was you, peter, or himself, it was delectable, and he wanted to share the delightful taste with you. he spat the mixture of cum and spit inside of your mouth before webbing his lips to yours, sealing it with one final breathless kiss.

“so, are lessons still on for next week or?” peter lay by your side, and dick joined the other, still dizzied from his high as telling by his shut eyes and drawn out pants.

“i mean… i’m still up for it if you guys are?” you said, leaning over to press a kiss to peter’s cheek. you took his smile as an answer and looked to dick for his.

“mm... yeah.” dick sleepily opened his eyes, his locks stuck to his sweaty forehead while he buried himself under the blanket. you felt his arms wrap around your waist once he got comfortable, muttering a kiss to your shoulder before dozing off.

“we’re good teachers, pete.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

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parkerpeter24 · 10 months

Note

HIII i am begging can you write a Peter Parker x reader one shot where peter and reader are married and have a toddler and maybe the avengers team find out PLISSSS ANS TYYYY 🫶🫶🫶

baby 🥺

pairing ➳ peter parker x reader

requests are open (but i barely write stuff)

masterlist

“what is he doing on the ceiling?!” kate yelled as soon as you entered the lobby, searching for your little toddler ben. you rubbed your eyes as you approached a very baffled kate, “your child is on the ceiling! how are you so calm?!”

“it’s 7 in the morning.” you winced as you looked at ben, him giving you an excited look and extended his arm towards you, making you do the same, “come on, benny, come to mama.”

and he did so as, un-sticking himself from the wall as he perfectly landed in your arms.

your two year old was way better at this than peter when he had started out as spider-man. his hand kept getting stuck to different places and after a bunch of ripped t-shirts and a couple of haircuts, you bought him rubber gloves. however, that didn’t work either.

as your little boy nestled against your chest, you looked over to kate who still had surprise written all over her face, “he’s spider-man’s child.” you explained simply.

“but- what if he fell down?”

“oh, he wouldn’t. he’s way too smart for that, aren’t you, benny?” you booped his nose and he gave you a grin.

“yes, mommy.”

you and peter had kept your relationship secret for a couple of years, at least from peter’s superhero gang. so it didn’t come off as a surprise when the avengers found out that you two had a one year old. they were very disappointed in you two for not telling this big a thing but the second they saw ben’s cute little face and his smile, you were forgiven and everyone was happy.

when you agreed to move into the avenger’s tower, tony was more than excited. he added a bunch of toys to the huge playroom that was originally built for morgan.

you were surprised to see that thor was the most attached to your baby. he spent time with him and thursdays were reserved to thor and ben taking a tour of the city. you trusted thor, however you had only allowed this after ben turned two, which was only a few weeks ago.

whenever natasha was around, she would tell ben all kinds of stories about how she kicked bad people’s butts so that little kids could sleep peacefully at night and ben would adore those “tales” even though they were real.

“next time you find him on a ceiling, just show him a cookie, he’ll come right down.” you told kate as you patted ben’s back, gently lulling him back to sleep.

“if you say so.” kate replied, chuckling as she watched you for a minute, “you should get some more sleep too, you look tired.”

“he refused to sleep last night because tony let him have extra ice-cream.” you rolled your eyes.

you noticed ben had fallen asleep, already drooling over the material of your t-shirt as you carried him back to his crib, placing him securely under his blanket before you made your way to your own bed. your husband, peter was still fast asleep. you laid down on the bed, peter already pulling you closer as if it was a reflex. you felt his arm relax against you, his head resting close to your shoulder and soon you felt the soft caress of sleep take over.

the bedside clock showed 10:34 as time when your eyes opened again. the room was empty, peter and ben both gone. you quickly freshened up before making your way out of the room and into the main gathering area once again.

only this time you were greeted with everyone sitting around and laughing as steve held his shield on his lap with ben sitting on top of it.

“hey, babe.” peter was the first one they greeted you as he placed a kiss on your cheek and dragged you in the middle of whatever was happening.

“uh, what’s happening?” you asked, looking around.

“your child is stuck to cap’s shield.” tony said, an almost proud smile spread over his face to which steve gave him a glare.

“guess who inspired it.” natasha rolled her eyes at her two friends, however a small smile remained on her face at the little banter going on.

just then kate ran into the room, holding a cookie in her hand as she handed it to steve, “got it!”

“come on, kid.” steve said, waving around the cookie in the air in front of him. ben’s eyes lit up and steve smiled, “it’s yours if you leave the shield.”

however, cap’s efforts failed as ben reached out one hand to grab the sweet but didn’t move a bit to release his shield.

“i bribed him good.” tony shrugged as he sipped on his black coffee.

you watched the whole scene unfold, amused to say the least. you noticed peter snickering as he stood beside you. you smacked his chest lightly, “you think this is funny? go get your child.”

“and forget the spider-bike mr stark promised me? never.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #dad!peter parker #mcu peter parker #peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter fluff #tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter x you #peter parker x y/n #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker x reader

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pixiexdusts-world · 9 months

Text

Incorrect quote

Tony: Y/n... How do I begin to explain Y/n?

Bucky: Y/n is flawless.

Natasha: I hear their hair's insured for $10,000.

Steve: I hear they do car commercials... in Japan.

Peter: One time they punched me in the face... it was awesome.

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dilfartist · 10 months

Text

A foolish endeavor

Pairing; Yandere Miguel O’hara x reader

Synopsis; You manage to snag Miguel’s gizmo and escape to another universe. How long will it take before he, or the spider society, find you?

Word count; 2.8k

Reader description; Female/GN

TW; kidnapping, probably terrible spanish (i did use sources Spanish-speaking users suggested), non-con touching, yandere themes, dark writing.

Notes; {if i mistranslated any of the spanish please do contact me in my DMs. I wanted this fic to be better but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Did not proofread.}

Midnight coated New York in a dark blue hue. Most nights the city lights illuminate the darkness, providing the ability to see. However, the motel you find yourself ambling to is the more isolated part of the city.

Rain poured down heavily, producing cacophonous echoes of raindrops slamming against the concrete. Clad in a drenched hoodie and damp black yoga pants, you scurry to the other side of the street just in time to avoid being hit by the passing truck.

Cigarette smoke and frigid rain overwhelm your senses, mainly due to the cigarette buds scattered on the motel parking lot.

The motel is okay looking. By no means does it look nice, but it isn’t a hard no.

“Guess this is where I’ll sleep tonight,” you mumble to yourself. You take a brief glance at your surroundings. Night overcame the sky, giving the atmosphere a dark hue but the lights gave you a clear standpoint.

Numerous lights hummed irritatingly, not even a minute passed and you found yourself obtaining a headache. You navigate the main office, which is on the left side of the horseshoe-shaped building, and a blue neon sign points in the direction of the office. You started sauntering over, putting pep in your step when the cold rain declined heavier than it did the last five minutes.

Six months ago, you wouldn’t be having this problem. At least that’s what you believed. You could’ve been at your apartment, catching up on a show you’ve failed to complete thanks to your busy work schedule.

Unfortunately for you, doing a task as simple as watching your television, in your home, was truly impossible. Why? Because the earth you roam isn’t yours, to begin with. Your apartment isn’t yours. The job you work isn’t yours. You aren’t certain you even exist in this universe.

You can’t find the strength to complain. Honestly, you’re delighted to be away from the man who stole you away from society.

Miguel O’Hara.

Otherwise known as Spiderman 2099. You know, the superhero.

It must be confusing to hear that a superhero kidnaped a poor civilian. Superheros don’t normally commit unforgivable acts. Regardless, Miguel didn't care. Miguel is aware he is different from other heroes given his beliefs. Abducting you was just one of the many wrongs Miguel fulfilled.

You just wished you knew his motives at the beginning. If you did, you wouldn't have to search for sanctuary. You wouldn't have to lie low in a different universe.

Before Miguel, you lived a decent life that included a decent job. It was a Tuesday afternoon with sunny weather and clear skies. Your friends invited you to a picnic at the park and, for once having a clear schedule you agreed. You recall the sun beaming down on you, overheating your body to the point shade was a necessity. You moved from the picnic blanket to a nearby bent tree. One moment you're enjoying the shade, the next you're falling. Then something transpired. You jerked in the air, something white clinging to the front of your shirt. You felt your body floating in the air, legs thrashing in fear when your body conceded it was in mid-air.

You must have fainted because you have no recollection of what transpired next. What you do remember was watching through bleary eyes as four strangers hovered over you clearly disputing. Currently, you know them by Jessica Drew, Peter B. Parker, the iron spider, And Miguel O’Hara.

The accountability for your well-being somehow landed in the hands of Miguel. In the beginning, Miguel had such a short patience for you, not that he didn't possess an attitude with anyone else, he just happened to have a really short fuse with you.

His explosive temper with you was undeserving. You hardly gave him any reason to blow up. Your presence alone just pissed him off, at least it appeared so.

You avoided him as much as possible; Departing a room when he entered. Ensuring any errands were accomplished before he arrived home, so you didn't have to leave your room to aggravate him.

Then he began to seek you out; popping up wherever you were in his apartment. Alone watching television on the couch? Not anymore. Miguel joined you on the other side silently watching as well. Sitting silently in the dining room eating lunch? Miguel enters with a bowl of cereal, starting a conversation about the day’s news. Enjoy video games and decide to play by yourself? Miguel grabs a controller and questions the rules and certain controls.

For someone who was as snappy at you as a feral dog, he sure did like to invade your solitude.

By the second month of staying at Miguel’s, he found solace in your presence. He became relaxed. Nice even. And then by the fourth month, you became friends. You never visualized being anything other than friends, but unbeknownst to you, Miguel did.

When you first caught the news of Peter figuring out what universe you belonged to, you were ecstatic. After all, the mystery of your universe's number had been the sole reason for crashing with Miguel and not immediately returning home.

You turned to Miguel, asking when was the appropriate time to drop you off. To your astonishment, Miguel’s brows furrowed, and his lips morphed into a grimace, “you will not be returning.” he affirmed.

Miguel shocked not only you, but everyone witnessing the scene. A gauche silence conquered the atmosphere.

You and Miguel stared at each other for a beat, then you voiced your perplexity. “What do you mean “I will not be returning?” Miguel, I need to go home.” you took a step closer to Miguel.

Miguel gazed at you with an uninterested stare. “What I say goes, (Name). And I say you're staying here.” he spun around, returning to whatever he had been working on before. “We all have a busy schedule and dropping you off will only alter it.”

“It’s not worth it,” he said like he was ending the conversation.

“Okay, then Peter can take me home when he needs to drop off Mayday.” you insisted, looking over at Peter to see if he’d be alright with your plan.

No expression was needed for you to catch on to the attitude Miguel began to gain. “(Name), I won’t tell you twice. The answer is no. Now, Peter take her back to my apartment. We’ll speak about the matter later, at the moment there are more important issues happening.”

You found it laughable. To think the minute you stepped into the man's sight he wanted you gone, but now Miguel was fighting you to stay with him. Ironic, isn’t it?

That night you and Miguel, the very moment he came inside his apartment, quarreled for an hour in a half. Your argument being you did not belong to him and could do whatever you pleased. Miguel’s argument was the insignificance of the matter to him.

You detected Miguel’s temper was starting to get out of hand. The way his fists began to clench, the way his brows creased, and the frown deepened after every sentence he uttered. You’ve seen his strength. His fierceness. And you’d rather leave than have any of his tantrums directed at you. Doing what any rational person would do, you attempted to leave the room. You advised him to de-stress before speaking to you again.

Miguel was having none of it. Not even a second passed before you were yanked back by the forearm.

You’re face-to-face with Miguel. Miguel towered over you, looking down at you with his signature red piercing stare. He bends down, momentarily staring at you until he finally speaks. “I can't allow you to leave.” The way he talks is low and if the room weren't already quiet, you wouldn’t have heard him. “I love you,” he confessed, voice cracking, closing his eyes as if it pained him to say it. He opened his eyes again. “And I won't allow myself to lose any other person I care for.”

Pulling twenty dollars out of the torn-up wallet you found on the side of the road, you slide it forward on the mahogany brown table. The fatigued receptionist glances at the money, then gazes at you with an irked expression.

“This isn’t enough.” She states matter-of-factly. She slides the twenty back to you.

You purse your lips, staring down at the cash. Twenty dollars is all you had. What were you to do now? The next nearest motel could be miles away; it was a miracle you made it to this.

Your eyes flicker back to her. You take two fingers pushing it back to her, giving her your best puppy eyes. “Please! I don't have anywhere else to go tonight. If I can’t stay here I’ll have to sleep on the streets.”

You were lying. You would’ve taken off by dawn, needing to be on the move after getting rested.

Her hardened expression softens. She takes a deep breath, eyes studying the money. Shaking her head, she takes the cash. “One night only, alright?”

You propose to her a smile, nodding with gratitude. She allotted you a key. A small golden-greenish key, with the number five engraved on the head. Tonight you’d sleep on the grounded floor of the motel.

The inside was decently prepared, having a dingy tone that gave off a haunted vibe. You hum in displeasure. Two queen-sized mattresses are positioned on the right side of the wall. They appeared stiff, and the blankets laying upon them looked thinner than a sheet of paper.

Sighing, you softly booted the door shut. Flopping down on the nearest bed, you groan at the sensation of the rough mattress.

When tomorrow comes you’d have to find a fresh location. Miguel could continually find your locale, thanks to not only Lyla but the whole Spider society. Perhaps you postponed his search this time. His watch or gizmo- whatever the hell it was- rests on your wrist.

Shifting your head to the side, pulling your hand out of your pocket, you glance at the gizmo.

Tightly clutched in Miguel’s hold, you stare quietly at the ceiling. You debate acting on your next actions. There were times Miguel slept lightly, aroused by creaks in the floorboard. Other times when the sound of glass shattering did not bother him even a little.

Glancing down at the arm wrapped securely around your midriff, you endeavor to gradually lift his arm up. He unconsciously retaliates, arms consolidating, resulting in a small gasp slipping from your lips. You’re quick to rub his arm, to offer him comfort, and to calm him.

It works. Miguel grumbles, his grasp faulting. You carefully move his arm aside, then unhurriedly get up from the bed.

Before leaving the room you observe Miguel. Miguel sleeps soundly, an angry expression inscribed on his face. But he is asleep, so you take your chance while you are able.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, you immediately spot the gizmo on the marble counter. Compared to the technology you have at home, it was top-notched, a huge improvement. Of course, he lived in the year 2099. Obviously, there would be a difference in technology.

You grabbed the gizmo, examining the complexity. From monitoring the spider people using them, you know it’ll take you wherever universe you request. Great. However, you weren’t a spider person. If you teleported in the middle of the air, you couldn't grapple on the closest object with a web. Or claw your way down a building

Fuck it.

If dying meant escaping him, then so be it.

You didn’t really mean that. Every time you went to teleport to a different universe, you cringed retreating your hand.

“Jesus! Alright, I'm doing this!” you softly berated yourself. Bracing for the impact of the possible fall you might face, you shut your eyes tight and twisted the gizmo. “Please be on the ground, Please be on the ground, Please be on the ground!” you cried.

How long would it take them to find you? How far could you get?

God, being on the run was stressful.

Your eyes flutter closed, plush pillows luling your tired mind. ‘I should get some sleep’ you thought. Warmth spread throughout your numbing body, as you finally permitted yourself to sleep.

When you awake gasping for air, almost as if you’d been suffocating. Instantly you arise, a hand rushing to your chest confirming it still thumped with a beating heart. Your skin is sticky with cold sweat, making your clothes uncomfortably cling to your body. “What the fuck?” you barely uttered, mouth arid.

Suddenly you had a gut feeling to check the window. You stand, groggily walking toward the large window adjacent to the front door. Pinching the hem of the curtain, you haul it aside.

The night is still pristine, the stars glowing in the dark sky. Nothing seems out of place. And yet you continue to have that gut feeling. Look outside, there’s something outside. Your eyes move to the parking lot.

You see it.

Blue and red. Something blue and red is making its way toward the motel. Squinting, you can make out what it is. Miguel. It's Miguel!

“Oh, shit!” you expressed, dropping the curtain. Wasting no time you locked the bottom and top locks. You veered around, frantically searching for a place to hide. You are no fool. Locking the door was simply a distraction; Miguel would tear the door off its hinges in a second.

Hiding underneath the bed is a childish strategy. That and hiding underneath the covers. Still, you drop to your knees, squeezing underneath the bed, using the blankets to cover any spaces revealing you. Pressing the palm of your hand against both your mouth and nose, you listen closely to everything around you.

At first, all you hear is the air conditioning blowing cool air, and the people next door’s baby weeping. Then you hear it. The doorknob oscillation. Your eyes widen, fear causing your breath to hitch. When the door refuses to open, the person behind the door commences kicking in the door. One kick achieves them access to the room. The door slams against the wall, shaking the ground, sending a vibration under you.

“¿Qué carajo?” you know that voice anywhere. It’s Miguel speaking in his native language. A habit Miguel has when he’s angered or stressed. “¿Dónde está ella?” Miguel snaps, striding into the room with anger-powered steps.

You can see through the tiny slit in the blankets, Miguel turning to the table where you placed the gizmo. Miguel picks up the gizmo, putting it back on his wrist.

He shifts his concentration to finding you. He calls out your name, malice dripping from the way he shouts it. He disappears from sight, presumingly moving on to the bathroom. Many things are heard being tossed around. Miguel probably was looking for evidence of you staying here, apart from the gizmo.

You gather the courage to, oh, so carefully stretch your leg out, then proceed to quietly shuffle from under the bed. You waste no time, rushing out the door, feet bare without socks or shoes. The gravel burns the soles of your feet, scraping and imprinting on the skin.

You practically succeeded in leaving the lot until you caught a glimpse of what stalked behind you. On all fours, Miguel sprinted at you, claws scuffing the concrete, like a predator running after its prey.

“Holy shit! What the actual fuck!” you panic aloud, taking your eye off what was in front of you, your mind solely focusing on the man hunting you. Big mistake on your part. A concrete parking block is in your way, but you don’t see it. You jolt forward, tripping over the block, your other foot catching you before you hit the road.

Just when you thought you still had the chance of running away, you’re sorely mistaken. Miguel pounces on you, and the clash of your bodies colliding results in Miguel tumbling down the road, you secure in his arms.

The tumble ends; you’re struggling not to vomit, head resting on Miguel’s firm chest. The world spins. It’s easy to forget your position when the urge to throw up is fresh.

Miguel holds your head, pressing a myriad of kisses on every part of the skin visible, muttering with his eyes closed. “Gracias a Dios que estás bien.” He sounds so frantic, reciting those same words, his tongue stumbling over the utterances.

His eyelids raise, uncovering his red orbs. He presses his forehead against yours, staring deeply into your eyes. It’s a domestic stunt that makes your stomach churn. “Debería estar furioso contigo, pero no lo estoy.” he huffs, then continues, “I’m happy you’re alright. I don’t know what I'd do if I lost you, mi alma.”

Taking your hand, he places a soft kiss on the back. “Had an anomaly harmed you, I would have ripped their fucking throat out!”

————————

Translations

- “¿Qué carajo?”/ what the fuck?

- “¿Dónde está ella?”/ where is she?

- “Debería estar furioso contigo, pero no lo estoy.”/ I should be furious with you, but I'm not.

- “Gracias a Dios que estás bien.”/ thank god you’re okay.

- mi alma/ my soul

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akairawrites · 9 months

Text

Not Your Gwen Stacy pt.5

Taglist

@ella-fella-bo-bella @ayoitsurfavdesigurl @aiq39 @luvvvjada

"Yes, I'm on my way to meet with her now," Betty replied, her voice carrying a hint of exasperation. She sat comfortably in the back seat of a sleek, blacked-out Rolls-Royce, her legs crossed. Her phone pressed to her ear as she observed the passing buildings outside.

"Relax, she's not going to find out, okay? Just as long as you keep your mouth shut." She pulled her phone away from her ear briefly, placing her hand over it as she leaned forward to communicate with the driver.

"You can pull over here," she instructed, addressing the person on the other end of the line. "Look, I'm at the coffee shop. I'll call you when I'm done." She was just about to end the call when something crossed her mind.

"Oh, and Ned, don't do anything foolish," she cautioned before finally hanging up the phone and exiting the car.

•••

"You're fired." You were certain you had heard him correctly, but you wanted confirmation.

"I beg your pardon?" You needed him to repeat himself, just to be certain.

"You're fired," Jameson repeated, this time more deliberately, ensuring you grasped his words. You couldn't fathom the reason behind it, though you had an inkling.

"But—what? Why? I'm the best writer you have. You even said it yourself." The office had emptied slightly before your shift ended. Someone had discreetly passed you a sticky note, instructing you to meet Jameson after everyone had left for the day. You had anticipated that it wouldn't be praise for your recent work, but you hadn't expected this, not so soon—it had only been a day.

Jameson just gazed at you, his mustache receiving a thoughtful scratch. He retrieved a cigar from a drawer in his desk, lit it, took a quick drag, and then spoke again. "Even my best writer can be replaced." Stunned, you took a step back. Jameson firing his best writer seemed highly improbable, but arguing with a man who had already made up his mind was a futile endeavor. "I'll pack up my things."

Without uttering another word, you headed to your desk and began placing your belongings into a file box. Once you'd finished, you left the building without looking back. Part of you wanted to cry, considering all the hard work you'd invested in The Bugle, but another part understood that nothing lasts forever. You blinked away the tears as you made your way to your desolate apartment.

You didn't take long to arrive home. Silently rejoicing because your arms were starting to ache from carrying the box for so long, you fumbled with your keys while trying to balance the box. It didn't even occur to you to put the box down. Just as you almost managed to get your apartment key out, the box decided to tip over in your hand, nearly landing on the ground. Almost.

Someone had managed to catch the falling box, and to your surprise, that someone was Peter. "Oh, Peter! Thank you." You were taken aback not only by his catch but also by his presence on this floor. "What are you doing on this floor?" You watched as Peter effortlessly hoisted the box into his arms, and you couldn't help but notice the muscles flexing due to the weight he carried. You hadn't realized just how strong he was until now, although he'd never given you a reason to notice before. "I, uh... actually wanted to talk to you, but you weren't home."

Peter's gaze shifted from the box to you, briefly scanning your outfit, making you feel somewhat small under his scrutiny. "Did you get fired?"

"What? How did he—?" Your surprise lingered as you tried to comprehend how Peter knew about your recent job loss. "Uh, yeah, I did, actually. It's kind of embarrassing," you admitted with a shrug as you both walked toward your front door. "For defending Spider-Man, I assume?" Peter's assumption was spot on, and you nodded in agreement. Reaching your door, you quickly unlocked it, and Peter followed you inside, placing the box on the kitchen counter as you switched on the lights. "I think so. But who cares; it was worth it," you said with a smile.

Peter desperately wanted to apologize to you for everything, and he hoped he would get the chance soon. After you shut the door and removed your jacket, you took a seat on your couch. "Wasn't there something you wanted to talk to me about?" Peter stood in front of the coffee table awkwardly before joining you on the couch. It seemed like this was where Peter allowed himself to be vulnerable.

"Yeah, I did, actually." You noticed how quickly his demeanor changed and realized he was serious. "Is everything okay?" you asked, concern evident in your voice. Peter responded with a nod, and for a while, you both sat in comfortable silence while he gathered his thoughts.

"I'm sorry if I've been acting a bit off or distant towards you," Peter began, and you could sense that he had more he wanted to say, so you allowed him to continue. Peter was striving to bridge the gap between you, to be close to you as Peter, not just as Spider-Man, even though he had often found it easier to communicate with you with the mask on. He felt the need to share something important with you, starting with the memory of Gwen.

"A few years ago... I, uh, I lost someone. Her name was Gwen." As he uttered her name, his breath quivered, and tears welled up in his eyes. "Tomorrow will be the anniversary of her passing."

"Oh, Peter..." You wanted nothing more than to be there for him as he navigated through this painful anniversary. It was evident that he was still deeply affected by this tragedy. "You blamed yourself every day for what happened to her. But then I met you. You remind me so much of Gwen... even in the article you wrote, you sounded so much like her."

His revelation took you by surprise, and you found yourself at a loss for words. It suddenly made a lot more sense why he had initially kept his distance. Part of you wished that it had stayed that way, not wanting Peter to confuse you with a girl he had lost and still loved.

Just as you were about to find the right words to respond, three loud knocks echoed through your apartment. It remained silent for a moment before the knocking repeated again. Without hesitation, you quickly got up to answer the door, not bothering to look through the peephole.

"Ned?"

Oh my god.

You completely forgot about your date with him.

Ned's eyes landed on the figure behind you. His gaze lingered on him for a terrifyingly long moment. "I am so sorry," you began apologizing, realizing your mistake. "Really?" His blue eyes met yours, but they were far less friendly than the day he asked you out. "You bailed on me for him?"

"No, Ned, it's not like that."

“What is it like then, Y/N?" His voice grew louder as he stepped closer to you. Confused and a bit overwhelmed, you put your hand up to his chest to gently push him back. You couldn't understand why he was so upset, considering that the two of you had rarely even talked before.

Peter, sensing it was time to step in, came up from behind you and softly grabbed your arm, pulling you closer into his chest. This only seemed to further anger Ned. "I think you need to leave, Ned," Peter's voice was firm and different from the one you had heard just a few minutes ago. Without saying another word, Ned clenched his jaw and began to walk away.

The moment he was gone, you turned around and buried yourself in Peter's chest. You felt terrible about Ned, and deep down, you knew that this wouldn't be the end of it.

Add yourself to my taglist here

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