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beatlesbug · 7 months

Text

Somebody Else

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!Reader

Synopsis: Peter can't stand to see you dance like that with somebody else.

CW: Fluff, angst, protective! peter, drinking, uhh reader has hair?

Author's Note: This is my first fic! So please leave me some feedback and requests! Also, I'm sorry if the grammar is trash, I'm working on it.

The bass from the speakers radiates in your chest as you chug another cup of whatever your best friend handed you.

"Babe, slow down!" She chuckles, watching you cringe at the taste and shake your head.

"No! I want to get so wasted I don't even remember his name," you hold her shoulders and say in her face excitedly. She laughs and wraps her arms around your waist before moving to the rhythm with you.

With every lyric you scream and move to on the dance floor, you can feel memories of Peter Parker leaving your mind.

It had only been three days since you'd broken up. Three days, and you saw him laughing with some girl from Biochemistry. A girl he told you not to worry about. Asshole. You should have seen it coming; it was so obvious. Peter had been hiding something from you. You had always been the cool girlfriend; you didn't care if he had female friends or went out with his friends. So when he started hiding something from you, you knew it was bad. You can't even count the number of times he'd lied to you about where he was or what he was doing. The final straw was three days ago when you'd entered his room and saw him throw some clothes out on his fire escape as he stood there in his boxers and a guilty expression.

"…Peter?" you questioned, standing in his doorway. He quickly slammed the window shut and came over to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Hey baby," he said sweetly, going over to his clothes that were lying on the floor.

You furrowed your eyebrows.

"Was someone just here?" You asked quietly, frozen in place. He looked back at you as he pulled his sweatpants on. He looked over to the window and then back at you, shaking his head nervously. "No, no, of course not. I knew you were coming over."

"Are you sure?" you crossed your arms over your chest. His eyes fell to your chest then back to your face. "Yeah?" He said, confused. You nodded your head and placed your bag against his desk.

"So you wouldn't mind if I took a look at your fire escape then," You said, heart thudding in your chest, walking over to said fire escape. Before you could reach it, Peter slid himself in between you and the window. You looked up at him and tilted your head.

"What?" He said, shifting his brown eyes away from yours. His face was inches away from yours now; usually, this position would make you want to reach up and kiss him, but what you currently feel is far from affection.

"I'm going to ask you again, one more time," You said steadily, trying not to let your voice crack as you asked the question you seem to have asked about a dozen times these last two weeks.

You tilted your head upwards, forcing him to keep eye contact with you despite the fact that you felt tears welling up in yours.

"What are you hiding from me?" You said slowly, the words feeling heavy in your mind.

"N-" He goes to reply before you interrupt him.

"I suggest you think about what you're about to say, Peter, because if you lie to me again, I'm done. We're done," You whispered to him, not breaking any eye contact. He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it before bowing his head in thought.

"Just tell me," You begged, lifting your hands to hold his face.

"Please baby, just tell me the truth," you whispered to him. He put his forehead against yours and went to speak. You held your breath in anticipation.

"I…I can't," his voice goes hoarse as he shakes his head, his nose brushing against yours. You inhaled sharply before pulling away.

You took a few steps back before looking at him, his head hung in shame. "I can't do this anymore, Pete. I just can't," you said, grabbing your bag from his desk and slinging it over your shoulder in a rush. You heard his voice call out to you as you ran down the stairs, out on the street, and away from him.

The memories of all of the hurt and the tears falling into nothing the more your hips moved with the beat. Nicki Minaj blasted from the speakers as you twirled around before screaming the lyrics and flipping your hair. You felt two hands wrap around your waist, holding you closer to them. You looked back over your shoulder and saw Caleb. Caleb was on your college basketball team; you tutored him last year in Psychology and became friends. You'd always suspected he had a bit of a thing for you, but you never really spoke to him out of respect for Peter. You smiled up at Caleb and turned to hug him, wrapping your arms around his neck and greeting him.

"Hey gorgeous, how are you?" He chuckled, leaning into your ear. You pulled away from him.

"I'm single and fantastic," you screamed over the music. He nodded, a wide smile spread across his face.

"Soo, that means I can dance with you, doesn't it?" You bit your lip as he said this and looked back at your best friend, who was now dancing with her partner. They both nodded at you encouragingly.

Looking back to Caleb, you nodded and started moving to the music with him. Just glancing at him, you could tell that he was attractive, with a short buzz cut and a sharp jawline, but he had nothing on Peter. As the Nicki song faded into the next, and the colored lights flashed in front of your eyes, you remembered how much you loved parties.

Peter hates parties. He's convinced this was the last thing he needed this week. He can't possibly stand here and be expected to have fun. Not three days after he had lost the love of his life. He felt like an idiot. The girl thought he was cheating on her as if any other woman in the world could compete with those eyes and that smile, he thought to himself. He was pulled into reality when a random guy ran past him to the kitchen sink before vomiting into it. He grimaced, deciding it's time to move to another room.

One hour. He just has to stay one hour, and Aunt May can't get mad. It's stupid to think that he still listened to his aunt at this age, but she insisted that going out would make him feel better, and he thought maybe she was right (and also there was a chance he'd finally get to see you, talk to you even). As he watched people covered in body glitter grind against each other, however, he questioned the validity of her solution. He weaved past as many people as he could, moving closer and closer to where he felt the music was coming from. There was only one place you'd be if you truly were here.

He stood next to the large archway leading to the dance floor, the steps allowing him the height to look over people's heads. The crowd screamed as the intro to the song "Gasolina" came on. He took a sip of his coke, scanning the crowd before he reached a familiar head of hair.

Fucking. Hell.

There was no possible way you had gotten ten times hotter in the past three days, was there? He watched as you lifted your arm to flip your

hair, a lock of it sticking to your lips. A bright smile graced your face as you circled your hips in the air.

Peter had seen you in all of your forms, sick, sleepy, tired, naked, yet he didn't think he'd ever seen you look sexier than when you moved your hair from your mouth and bit your lip looking at someone. The soft smirk and loving eyes immediately vanished from his face when he realized who you were looking at.

You're not mine. He remembered suddenly, feeling anger bloom and ache in his chest. He couldn't stand you looking at Caleb that way. You were his… even when you weren't.

As if sensing his presence in the room, you suddenly snapped your head over to him. Your eyes locked as your chest heaved slightly, damp from sweat. You wished you could ignore him. You wished you could see him and have no trouble turning away. You almost had the urge to smile at him.

Peter held the eye contact. Even from across the room, he could feel the string that tethered you together pulling him from his chest toward you. He didn't fight it. His jaw clenched, and eyes sharp, he walked almost seamlessly through the crowd of people on the dance floor and straight to you. When he stood about a foot away from you, you froze in place, not knowing what was coming next. He looked over at Caleb.

Caleb had his hand hooked around your body, way too close to your chest. Way too close to you. There were not many things Peter felt possessive over, but one of those things was you.

"Hey Pete! What's up, man?" Caleb said mockingly. Peter clenched his jaw, not even looking at you. He knew if he did, he would become a mess of tears, any and all confidence falling away.

"Get your hands off of her." He demanded at Caleb, acting way ruder than he’s ever been. Caleb removed his hand from your waist, squaring up to Peter.

"She ain't your bitch anymore, Parker, she's free game now,"

Feeling insulted, you took a step back, drawing the attention of your best friend and a few other people in the crowd.

"Don't fucking talk about her like that," Peter gritted his teeth. Just looking at him now, you were scared. Not of him, but for Caleb. In your months of dating, you'd never seen Peter this angry, and though he didn't look it, you knew he was much stronger than he led people to believe.

"You're just fucking mad because you know I'm going to have her bent over my desk tonight, not you." Caleb sneered at Peter, egging him on. Your jaw dropped at his words.

"Excu-" Before you could even get a word out, Peter's fist came crashing into Caleb's face. The music suddenly halted, and Caleb landed on the grimy floor. Suddenly, Caleb was on his feet and stalking towards Peter. Caleb's friends grabbed him from behind and stopped him from coming any closer. Instinctively, Peter's arm came in front of you, pushing you behind him so he could act as a shield. Caleb screamed and spat at Peter. Peter went forward to continue to fight when you grabbed his arm.

"Peter! No!" At the sound of your voice saying his name, he turned toward you, seeing the pleading look in your eye.

"Let's just go. Please. Let's go." He looked at you hesitantly before looking back at Caleb. Knowing you were more important than his pride, he held onto your hand tightly and dragged you away from the chaos of the dance floor, away from the frat house, and onto the front yard.

It's only when you're both standing in the driveway, the music cranking up again inside, that you finally get a good look at him. He's wearing a loose t-shirt, a flannel, and his regular black jeans. You stare at each other in silence, feeling protective of yourself you hug your body.

"Were you really gonna go home with him?" Peter mutters.

A completely cold laugh comes out of your mouth, putting your palms over your eyes.

"I can't fucking believe you,"

He frowns at your words, "What?"

"What if I went home with him, Peter! We're done! Go back to fucking Lyla or whoever the fuck she is," you say, referring to the girl you'd seen him hanging around with, the one he'd probably been cheating on you with.

"What?" He says again, this time slightly angrier. "Who the fuck is Lyla?!"

Your eyes widen as you spread your arms out, "Fucking Lily or whoever she is you're sleeping with, Peter! I don't give a fuck!"

He runs his hand through his hair, turning around before looking at you again.

"I'm not fucking anyone." He says calmly, hands in a prayer motion at his mouth.

You roll your eyes, "Peter, it's over, you don't have to lie anymore. I know you were cheating on me. It's fine, whatever, just fuck off please!"

"Ch- Cheating? What are you talking about?" He asks, confused. You go to respond but get interrupted by your friend running up to you, putting her arm on your shoulder. She asks if you're okay, you nod at her and tell her not to worry. Peter interjects and says he'll get you home safe and she should enjoy her night. She looks over at you for confirmation, and you nod, not wanting to ruin her night as well.

"Call me when you get home, please!" You yell after her as she runs into the arms of her partner on the porch. You and Peter walk down the street, away from your college campus and into the city streets. Neither of you say a word apart from muttering a small thank you when he drapes his jacket.

"I wasn't cheating on you,” He says suddenly when you turn onto a quieter street.

“I would never, ever." He continued strongly. You swallow and shrug under the weight of his jacket.

"What was I supposed to think, Peter? You don't answer your phone, you disappear in the middle of the day, you lie to me…" You say, much calmer than before, but looking at the ground instead of him.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I just- If I could tell you I would, but if something happened to you and it was my fault? If you got hurt and I couldn’t save you that would be on me and I can’t see you hurt. I can’t.” He cries desperately.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “Got hurt? Peter, what are you talking about?” He walks towards you slowly, testing to see if you would move away. You don’t. Peter moves forward to wrap his arm around your torso, “Peter, what are you-?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” You say, hesitating, despite everything.

He tightens his grip around you before moving your hands around his neck.

“Peter if you want me to hug you or something I-” You’re cut off by your own screams as you soar through the air. You bury your face into Peter's neck and hold onto him tighter, terrified and confused. Your stomach rises and drops as you soar through the city. So terrified of falling that you can't think or speak. In a flash, you feel your feet hit concrete, and you notice you're on the terrace of your apartment building.

Peter releases you and is about to say something when you run to the ledge and throw up. He cusses behind before lifting all of your hair away from your face and lifting his jacket so he can rub your back soothingly. You stand up straight when you’re done, probably reeking of sweat and vomit.

You both stare at each other unmoving.

"What the fuck?!" You yelp as you hit his chest. Angrily you growled at him.

"What was that? Why did you just fling me across-" and then realization hit you.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, you're Spid-. Oh my god, this isn't happening. I am not that drunk," you say laughing sarcastically and putting a hand against your forehead.

“Even if you were drunk I think you got it all out now.” Peter chuckles awkwardly, gesturing to the throw-up on the ground.

You snap your gaze to him, reprimanding him, and he smiles softly. That smile. That smile that you're sure could heal the world if he tried.

“I wasn’t cheating on you, y/n. I’m Spiderman, that's why I disappear, that's why I’m late, that's why I lie. And I’m not going to apologize for being him because it’s the second greatest thing to ever happen to me, but I will say I’m sorry for lying. I’m so so sorry for lying to you, bug. I really am. I got scared and nervous that something would happen to you, I couldn’t take that risk but I can't lose you either.” He professed sincerely.

You nod your head slowly. “I get it,” you whisper. Tears pricking at your eyes, all the feelings you’ve been trying to suppress bubbling over with how much you love the man in front of you. You take quick paces to him and wrap your arms around him, holding him so tight you’re not sure he can breathe. Sniffling through your tears, “I get it, I’m so sorry I got mad. I love you,” you say into his chest. You feel his arms wrap around you making you cry even harder.

“I love you,” He says back, placing a kiss on your head.

“And I’m sure you have questions,” He whispers.

“So many questions,” You laugh into him, refusing to let go. But he pulls away from you and holds your head in his hands.

“How about we shower and get ready for bed and you can ask me anything you want,” He asks while stroking your hair. You nod at his words. He takes your hand and leads you to the stairwell into the building.

As you walk through the door you ask, “So where else do the webs come out from?”

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker #tasm peter parker #the amazing spiderman 2 #peter 3 #college!peter parker #spiderman #peter parker/reader #peter

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literaila · 4 months

Note

PETER PARKER ANGST????❤️🫡🛬🤭😍🗣🙀🫡😀🫡🫶😀😟🫶😟❤️ (if you dont write it ill sob violently on the floor ☹️)

we could call it even

tasm!peter x fem!reader

summary:

"peter parker," she says, "you're like a legend around here."

warnings: unspecified angst, series, no fluff, no explanation

a/n: might i introduce a playlist entitled stupid boy which i listened to while writing this (and the other parts????)

there's a specific time of night that is appropriate to go to the market.

or inappropriate, depending on how old you are.

if you're in your sixties and sometimes feel like your joints are just notches that need to be oiled, midnight probably isn't your designed time for grocery shopping. seven in the morning is typically the best time for swollen lungs and--literal--broken hearts.

but if you're you, exhausted from running around all day, unpleasant from all of the people you've talked to, and trying to avoid anyone (everyone) you might know--and secrets you don't feel like sharing--then midnight is a perfect time. and perfectly normal, thank you very much.

you're not even sure why meyer's is open this late. there's no way the owner, jerry, is staying up until midnight to check out the lowlifes or drunk teenagers stopping by, and you know that these aren't prime business hours--evident by the crickets you can hear behind the 'fresh produce' section. maybe he forgets that it's open, and that susan--the only person willing to work here--is still on the clock. or maybe he's just taking pity on you. you don’t think he’s ever there, but maybe he hides around corners, noting the new lines on your face so he can report it back to every person in town. gossip is like a disease, and you’re never alone in a place like this. never quite at peace.

you look around the next shelf for jerry, or a gust of wind that follows him running away. there’s only silence. the echoes of your footsteps.

it doesn't matter why meyer’s is open. you're thankful for this time alone. or at least by yourself.

it's a welcome change to have no one judge you for your selection of deli cheese and baked goods. or the three containers of instant coffee you've hidden underneath it all. just out of habit.

tuesday nights are yours, and the market is your chosen domain.

usually, that is. usually, you're all alone. usually, you can run around on the carts and pick up anything you accidentally knock over. you can spill an entire bottle of wine on the floor and no one will blink an eye. jerry wouldn’t even be able to hear it from three feet away.

but tonight--on this tuesday when your feet hurt a little bit more than necessary, and your eyes are twitching at all of the lights--apparently you're not alone.

which you wished you would have realized before you started humming 'single ladies' a bit too loudly.

you wished you would have skipped shopping at all, really, as soon as you see his face.

his wide eyes--surprised and silvered by age, much like yours--and his open mouth.

in a different world, you would be shocked--shocked instead of scared--and you might run to him. you might ask him why he didn't tell you he was coming? what is he doing here? in a different world, you two would be the only people in the market and it would be fine.

it might even be great.

this subtle shift in autonomy wouldn’t hurt the peace you’re looking for on this tuesday night.

there wouldn't be this obvious horror story standing between the two of you, this looming presence. the history of a thousand lies, bruise after bruise, and scars so red that they could burn through the ground. glass shattered around your feet.

the lights might as well start flickering. you should probably call out "hello?" even though he's right in front of you, and if he was going to murder you, he probably wouldn't answer. a door should creak.

you should probably go.

you should probably run away before he can take a step closer. you don't look a threat in the eye and smile at it. you don't feed a stray cat.

it always comes back.

why is he here?

you take a step away. as soon as you notice him--behind, between, all over you--silence ensues. you might as well be at a loss for words. you don't have much to say to him.

not to that look in his eyes, or his receding hairline, or that peak on his mouth.

because peter would be here. at this time. and he would be trying to hide a smile, a smirk, when he's not even supposed to be within a five-hundred-foot vicinity of you.

actually, maybe you forgot to mail that restraining order.

but the words come out anyway because your body has always betrayed you when it comes to him.

"peter?" you blurt out, and just saying the word stirs the simmering feeling inside of you. just saying his name is enough of a warning.

"hey," he whispers and takes a step closer. you step back. he leans away like he knows his proximity is toxic. "sorry, i didn't mean to scare you."

i didn't mean to.

and yet.

you breathe and forget how to blink. he might disappear. "peter," you repeat, as a form of masochism. you don't breathe at all.

"sorry," he says, again. he doesn't say what for. there could be a million things.

"um," you choke out, looking around--away from him and his manipulative eyes. "what?" you laugh to yourself, hand running over your face. you roll your eyes back into your head and laugh again. you shake your head.

you look at peter, at his furrowed brow and inward stance, and you snort. look away from him before it's too late.

you're laughing like something is funny. it's not.

it's really not.

"are you..." peter is swallowing. you'd like to pretend that his voice is hollow and cold, much like that cave inside your chest, but it's not. you recognize that concern, that softness in his voice that used to be just yours. "are you okay?"

you almost giggle at him. it comes out as more of a cough.

you wonder if you look like a ghost. some remanent of who you used to be--the person that only peter used to know.

"peter," you sigh, and step away from your cart. into the shelf you've been backing yourself into.

you step away from him, still shaking your head.

"i've got to--" you trip as you turn around and say to mostly yourself, "i've got to go."

groceries, and peter, be damned, you think, as you walk out of the building and prepare yourself to never ever come back.

it wouldn't be the first time.

you are having your daily debate with mrs. brooke about the amount of calories in each pastry, in which you tell her that you only measure the amount of pleasure someone might get out of each one—which earns you a lovely sneer—and that she should try the blueberry scone.

she always rolls her eyes at you, says something about watching her weight even though she’s looked the same since you were five years old and sneaking through her yard to catch the neighborhood cat. and then she leaves with a breakfast sandwich.

it’s actually one of the most enjoyable parts of your day.

here’s the thing about knowing every single person that comes into the shop: you know exactly what they’re going to order, and you know what type of conversation you’re going to have with them.

mrs. brooke always stresses about her breakfast, her smile a tense sort of pleasant, but by the time she leaves her head is held a little higher. if she chooses the sandwich instead of the scone, then she’s started her day off right. you used to feel exasperated by her indecisive nature, but now you find it kind of adorable.

mr. meyer—jerry—just comes in so he can complain about the surplus of options on your menu. he wants a black coffee, and he wants to complain. you always smile at him and ask if he’s sure he doesn’t want to try the raspberry green tea. he finds this less than humorous.

every kid wants some kind of hot chocolate—which you actually have an excessive amount of—and no matter what their parents say, you sneak some extra marshmallows in. and everyone pretends otherwise.

susan—your kindergarten teacher, now friend—asks if you’ve met anyone special lately. it doesn’t matter that the selection of single people your age is always the same. there’s got to be someone special, she says to you and leaves with a cider she tells everyone is a latte.

there are the people who want their lattes and mochas, those who want some alternative milk that they complain about—even though you’ve tried every brand on earth—there are the people who don’t ever buy anything, and just come in to pretend they want something and talk to you. they gossip about the other people in town as if you aren’t well aware of everything that goes on.

you roll your eyes, but you appreciate the company. things get pretty boring when you can guess everyone’s schedule.

but you like your tiny tea shop. you like the consistency. you enjoy the smiles you throw out, and the complaints you receive. it’s a routine, and nothing goes wrong. you're in control of this one thing, and that's just how you like it.

in control, that is, of course, until you see him when mrs. brooke is walking away.

“oh!” she says, pausing, her drink shaking in hand, her pink fingernails a smudge against the shadow suddenly coming from right in front of you. she is just a foot too close to him. “is that peter parker?” she asks, saying his voice like an omen, turning around so she can set her cup and bag down, and then hugging him so hard you can see her muscles working beneath her sleeve.

“hey, mrs. brooke,” peter wheezes out, a strangled smile on his aged face. his same eyes.

he is just as surprised as you at her sudden outburst, the cooing noises she's making as she attempts to crumble him.

“look how handsome you’ve gotten! and so strong. what are those new yorkers doing with you?”

“definitely not trying to squeeze me to death.”

mrs. brooke laughs, somewhat vindictively, and she turns back around to look at you, with wide eyes. “did you know he was in town, dear? why didn’t you say anything? i almost had a heart attack.”

peter clears his throat before you can throw any type of face on. any mask. “it’s a surprise,” he mock whispers, and his eyes dash to yours, then away, just as quick. “don’t tell anyone.”

“it’s not like they’d believe me anyway,” she scoffs, “you’re a legend around here.”

“i’m honored.”

she laughs again, then grabs her cup. “oh,” she whispers, too loud. her eyes are tight, as if she’s intruded. “of course. i’ll leave and let you two talk.”

and within a blink of an eye, she is running out of the shop, faster than you’ve ever seen anyone escape from here.

and peter is there, standing in front of you. his face is smooth, calm, his eyes roaming over your face like he still has the privilege of knowing any of it.

and your heart might be racing, if it was still there.

"hi," he whispers. it is quiet enough for you to feel it in your chest. his voice and the memory of it.

does he sound different? has he really changed that much in the last two years? is his face a bit worn? are his eyes a different color?

but it doesn’t matter what rattles through your head—when you look at peter, you just see him. your peter.

except that he’s completely different.

you clear your throat, looking away and pushing off of the counter. “what can i get you?”

peter blinks. “oh, um…” he looks at the menu above your head, back to you. “what—“ he swallows. “what would you recommend?”

“it’s all good.” your voice is clipped. you should’ve said pure brewed black tea, no ice, no sweetener, no cup. just to get him out of here. you should've recommended the starbucks three towns over.

he swallows, again. a hand rakes through his hair. “i… just a sec.”

there is a single second where you grant him the patience you would give every other customer—smile politely and let them know to ask if they have any questions. a single second where you treat him like anybody else.

and then you say: “do you want a mocha, peter?” with an anger that shouldn’t—can’t—be contained inside of you.

you wince at his name. the singe of his brand on you, going down your throat.

peter seems to watch this on your face, because he’s even quieter when he answers, “sure, that’d be great.”

at least some things haven’t changed.

so you grab a cup, writing his name on it, and move to grab the milk.

you turn around and pretend like you’ve just forgotten he’s there.

peter doesn’t take this hint.

“so…” he says, his feet are loud as they tap on the ground. “you still work here, huh?”

you barely grunt a response, spilling chocolate in the cup recklessly. if peter dies of a clogged artery it won’t be your fault.

“that’s nice. felix always loved you. and you loved working here, back in highschool.” you have to face him as you steam the milk, and you try not to pointedly stare. not to roll your eyes or hiss at him. “it’s different though. the decor, i mean. but nice. i like it. did you do it?”

“yes.”

you grab his cup, pouring the milk and shoving the cap on it. “here,” your fingertips burn as you pass it to him, and you don’t think it’s because of the drink.

“thank you.”

you both stand there; peter blinks and doesn’t leave.

he coughs. “i didn’t pay.”

“mrs. brooke would kill me if i made you pay for your first drink back home.”

“well, she knows where you live,” his lip twitches, but he doesn’t laugh.

and neither do you.

“is it just you here?” he asks. “no felix?”

“he sold me the shop a year ago.”

his eyes widen. “oh. oh! that’s great. congrats.”

“thank you.”

you don’t move your eyes from his face, because it’s suddenly not fair that he’s here. that he’s allowed to intrude like this.

“it’s good to see you,” peter relents, a fake smile playing on his lips.

you falter. your heart turns in your chest, just so it doesn’t have to look at him anymore. “i’m working, okay?” you say, whispering. “i can't do this right now.”

“right. yeah.” peter trips on a step back. his eyes are scanning your face again. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t—“ he blows out a breath. “i’m sorry.”

you nod. watch the ground as he stumbles over it.

“i mean it though,” he adds, like he hadn’t thought about it. “it’s good to see you.”

and then peter swallows. you blink at him.

when he turns around the bell rings as he pushes it. and peter doesn’t look back.

he’s right about one thing, at least. it is nostalgic.

"when were you going to tell me?" your mom asks, leaning against her kitchen counter--the same one you scribbled on as a kid, smiley faces still apparent. she's doing that fake smile thing. the one that makes you want to storm off and slam the door like some mistreated teenager.

you don't, but both of you know that you think about it. for at least five seconds

"tell you what?" you ask, instead, setting the groceries you brought for her on the counter.

"about peter."

your eyes close. he would follow you around, wherever you go. he's probably hiding in some vent, smiling maliciously.

there's that teasing voice in your head saying small town, small small town, but you just turn around, ignoring it, and her, and raise a brow. "peter parker?" you repeat, rhetorically. "twenty-six, new york. brown hair, brown eyes. lived here his whole life, has an aunt who lives next door, tried to steal our cat when he was nine..." you drawl off, making a point to smile. "ringing any bells?"

she throws a dish towel at you. "you know thats not what i meant."

"do i?"

you wipe the counter with the towel, then fold it nicely on the counter, all the while avoiding your mother's eyes.

but you know she won't leave it alone. the same way she hasnt left you alone once in the past four years, like she can dig your feelings up from whatever grave you buried them in.

there's a part of you that wants to crawl over to her and ask her to make you some hot chocolate, to watch some childrens movie on the couch with you. you want to be the little kid who would've depended on that knowing glance she's still giving you. the little kid who idolized her and wasn't afraid to admit the truth--even if you did steal that chocolate bar from under her sink.

but you're grown, and this doesn't matter. not in the long run, anyway.

you look up, expectant eyes. she has your same eyes, and meets them.

"linda told nancy, who told jerry, who told me over the phone..." she shakes her head. "but may was here earlier."

"yeah? how is she?"

"good, busy, i'm guessing, because you know how she dotes over him."

"yeah..."

you fold the towel again, running your fingertips over the embrodered flowers.

"have you seen him?"

you swallow, and nod absentmindedly. you're not going to tell her about the grocery store. "yeah, he came into the shop yesterday."

she taps your hand, and you let go of the rag. she hangs it back over the oven, the ebbing silence more like a threat, her hands falling to her hips. "why didn't you say anything?"

"it's not a big deal. he came in, ordered, and then left."

"and there were no words between the two of you?" she prods. "no wandering eyes? you just read his mind instead of taking his order?"

you grit your teeth, rolling your eyes. "he asked for a mocha and i made it for him."

"nothing else?"

"he said it was nice to see me."

she waves a hand at you.

"and i said that i was working." you sigh, leaning against the counter. "that's all."

"you're not freaking out?" your mom ducks her head so she can meet your eyes. her face is sullen, but her smile is genuine.

it's like talking to a counselor.

"why would i be freaking out? he had to come back sometime."

she scoffs. the little necklace your dad gave her dangles from her neck, and you watch it. "i don't know," she says, using the same voice you do when she tells you not to take a tone with her. "maybe because you havent spoken to him in the last three years?"

yeah, the same voice says, rough and patronizing, you haven't spoken to him in five years. why is that, again?

but you snort at your mom, a defensive smile making its way to your lips as you look at her. "water under the bridge," you say, dismissing it.

you don't want to talk about this with her. you don't want to talk about this with anyone.

because the only person who might actually understand is the same person who left three years ago. who came back with no warning at all.

"did may say when he got here?" you ask, voice escaping before you can stop it.

"just a day or two ago, i think. why?"

"is he here for the holidays?"

"yes. she said he plans to stay until at least january. he's between jobs, i guess."

"oh." you smack your lips and move away from her, back to the groceries, which is the reason you're here in the first place. you take out the milk jug, walking to the fridge, but a soft hand stops you.

your mom is smiling when you turn towards her. "you don't have to talk about it," she's saying, her voice smooth and comforting. "i don't--i don't know what happened between the two of you. i just mentioned it because may said he was talking about you. it..." she drops off, wincing.

"what?"

"it might be good to talk to him. put the water under the bridge."

you roll your eyes, nose twitching. you don't need to say anything, you won't. your mother is just another town gossip, and her opinion has no sway over you.

even ask the words sink in.

"now put the rest of those away," she says, ruffling your hair, "i know what happens when you take your 'breaks.'"

you push her and put the milk in the fridge.

you're mopping the floor when the bell rings, and a cold brush of air trails goosebumps up your skin.

it's late enough in the season to no longer smell like the leaves falling onto the ground, or the grandesur pine needles showing off their lifespan. it's cold in the shop now, and you have three coats in the back.

but the person who walks in is only wearing one. one you recognize from several years ago, with the holes in the sleeves from when he jumped over your fence and sprained his ankle. the stain on the front when may threw a plum soaked rag at him and you'd laughed so hard that you'd fallen to your knees on the floor and couldn't breathe.

peter's face is wain. his eyes are cautious as they meet yours.

you're not used to anyone coming in at 5:55. everyone knows you close at six, and the few people who'd dared to come in and order a drink a minute before you flipped your sign have learned their lesson.

but peter hasn't learned anything.

"i know," he says, like tracking your mind. "you close at six. may told me."

"okay."

you're still holding the mop, sure that his footprints would leave mud all over your floors.

"i don't want to buy anything. or--" he breathes out, hands wringing at his sides, probably from the cold. "i will. if you want me to. but that's not why i came. i wanted to see if you..."

he does a sweep over you, and his words fall in the air, as if he's just realized something.

you look down at the snowflake apron your mom bought last year. it's not that dirty.

you look back up, brows furrowed, and peter's expression matches yours. "yes?" you prod, feeling that anger simmer in the core of your chest. but you've been rude enough to him.

your mom's words ring out in your head.

it might be good to talk to him.

peter swallows, whatever emotion on his face fading. "i wanted to see if you would go to dinner with me. or take a walk. or--or i'll buy you groceries, since you left yours the other night. it doesn't matter. i just want to... talk to you."

"you want to talk to me?"

peter nods. "i can wait outside, while you finish." he waves a hand, like an explanation. "it doesn't have to be long. just five minutes?"

you watch peter, his face a world of feeling that you can't recognize anymore.

and maybe that hurts the most. not him being here, not the distance or the time you've let edge you apart, but the fact that it's changed things. peter has changed and you've just let that happen. he's got a life seperate from you and there's no one to blame. he'd reached out enough, initially. months of letting his calls go to voicemail and ignoring may when you saw her in the street.

putting yourself back together in the misshaped way you are now. peter probably doesn't even recognize you--not like this.

maybe it's your fault.

but you find yourself nodding anyway, ignoring the guilt seeping through the cracks of you. you nod, and peter's face changes.

it's not the first time you've noticed his eyes, or watched relief ease into him, but it's just the same.

"yes?" peter asks, his voice rough and dry. you look at that jacket again.

"where's your coat?"

"my..." peter looks down with you. "oh, my coat. all of the ones aunt may kept were too small, and i thought--" he scratches his neck. "well, i forgot how cold it gets."

you nod, slowly.

peter nods back.

you stare at him a moment longer, and then break away from his unfamiliar gaze.

"just give me five minutes. i just need to put this away, and grab my stuff, and..." you swallow.

"okay. great. do you want to me wait outside, or should i?" he gestures around, looking as uncomfortable as you've ever seen him.

"you can sit. just--don't get any dirt on the tablebases."

"okay. thank you."

you nod, one last time, and look away from him.

your heart runs circles around peter as he sits at one of your tables, his long legs not fitting beneath it. it taunts you again and again as you try not to notice him breathing, try to ignore him completely.

you dup the mop water, spilling it on your shoes. you wipe down the last counter, the syrup sticking to your hands like a scar. you walk around the shop trying to find something else to do so you can avoid this as long as possible. your feet are cold and your hands feel abnormally dry. maybe you need to go home and shower. maybe you shouldn't be doing this at all.

you sit in the office for a moment, wishing you could watch peter without him knowing. scope him out before you hear what he has to say.

and--

okay, maybe there's a part of you that's been waiting three years for this.

that dream where he's there even though you don't want him; that moment when he apologizes and you forgive him automatically, because your heart has always been small and fragile around him; that fantasy where peter comes home and he's the same teenager you used to walk around town with at two in the morning, the same brown eyes laughing as you both slipped on ice and fell on top of eachother.

you won't deny that you've thought about this before. what you might say to him if you got the chance.

but as you grab your bag and hang your apron around the chair in the office, the words have gone some place else. what could you say to him to make any of this make sense?

still, you clear your throat when you walk out, feet aching from standing all day. you blink at him as he struggles to get up, pushing your chair in, the legs scratching on the floor the only sound between the two of you.

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baltharino · 8 months

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#i want to put him in a little glass box <3 #the amazing spider-man #the amazing spiderman #tasm #peter parker #andrew garfield #filmedit #cinematv #dailytvfilmgifs #gif #gifset #spiderman #spider-man #ok I didnt follow ALL the advice in my prev post. only the 'add noise' part but look at me boy!#gonna explore the rest of the tutorial in a mo :3 #dailyflicks #live action

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verianal · 25 days

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Spider Phil :3.. (also guys wow look I drew a background)

this is inspired by/for my friend @krunktrunk !!!

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 7 months

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Theoretically ~ P.P.

A/n: And another request!!

Request: “Male reader x Andrew Pete, After a long day of thinking about it and wondering if he and Peter were ready, reader proposes?” By anon

Word Count: 1800+

MASTERLIST

It had started slowly, but Y/n had realized after it had been going on for a while so it had felt sudden and startling.

First there had been the exact moment kisses between them had become casual. They weren't startling and didn't make him jump, heart racing. Peter would be on his way out the door and would say goodbye, leaving a kiss on Y/n's mouth very quickly before dipping. And that felt right. He'd sink into the feeling, his chest warm, but it wasn't buzzing and burning like it used to be.

Then it was the increased PDA. Peter had always been repressed and reserved, hating attention and confrontation unless he had his mask on. But they'd gotten slowly into the habit of having little to no personal space, and being generally touchy. One day, Peter didn't take Y/n's hand just "to show him something" and then drop it when someone looked over. Another day Y/n stared lovingly as long as he wanted and Peter never made a joke about it. After that, Peter lay his head on Y/n's shoulder on the subway and sighed, relaxed. When they kissed, grinning, on the side walk waiting for the light to change for them Y/n knew it was okay to do that more often.

Those were followed by the casual way Peter referred to Y/n as his boyfriend. Even spoke about "his boyfriend." Before he'd said "partner," brushing it away that he was dating someone of the same gender. He wouldn't use Y/n's name even when people knew who he was talking about. And then one day he introduced Y/n as his boyfriend - something he'd heard later from MJ.

The day it clicked was when Peter got caught up in an especially rough back and forth with Doc Oc, who had kidnapped Y/n in an attempt to hurt Peter. It wasn't the first time it had happened, and the panic afterward had been tangible, but Peter didn't implode like he so often had. He was focused on Y/n, tending to him and reassuring him he was safe. And he didn't blame himself or hate on himself or push Y/n away. It was... startling, honestly, when Peter wrapped around him instead and whispered a simple, "I'm sorry this Spider-Man stuff caught up to you."

Y/n ran his hands through his boyfriend's hair, and realized that he was home to Peter, the same way Peter was home to him. That they couldn't have denied each other even if they wanted to. Even if they'd have tried. They both knew it.

And he smiled, realizing that maybe they hadn't said it yet, but this probably meant they were in love after all. And they'd been in love for a while, so much more than a young romance. They'd be together for a very long time.

"I knew what I was getting into, Peter," he reassured softly. "I know we'll always figure it out. Together." He sighed. "Plus, now you know how I feel every day."

Peter nodded. "That's fair." And that was it. No argument, no anger, no spiral.

The confession of love had followed soon after.

When Y/n got a succulent and Peter started calling it Jimmy, and referring to them as Jimmy's dad, something settled deeply into Y/n's chest. He wanted to do this forever. He wanted to be with Peter for the rest of his life.

That was a terrifying thought.

Peter had been getting better. A little more grounded, and much more experienced. Every day he was softer with himself. Every day he opened up more, and let Y/n help when he could. Every day he smiled more, laughed more. Every day he showed Y/n off more, being proud they were together and being loud about it too. They moved in together, and after that everything was theirs - not individually Peter's or Y/n's. Like they never had to worry about moving out or going separate ways or breaking up. Like this space was theirs and it always would be, even it it was a different space.

It was the teasing look in May's eyes as she grinned at Y/n over the cup of tea she was drinking that was the last straw. She put her cup down and in a gentle voice, began, "You want to ask me something?"

Y/n blushed. "You saw through me then."

May raised an eyebrow, her smile teasing. "In the years you've been with Peter, your worst fear as been time and again proved to be imposing on me. You only ever come by when I invite you, with Peter, or explicitly to help with something. I've never seen you ask to come over completely unprompted with nothing else in mind but spending time together." She leans back in her chair. "Not that I'm complaining."

Rubbing the back of his neck, he got sheepish. "I'm sorry May. I don't mean to be around so little."

She waves her hand back and forth, and if to scatter the words in the air. "Don't he silly. I don't take it personally. You should come over more often though." She took another sip of her drink. "But that's not what you're here to talk about."

Y/n swallows hard, interlacing his fingers so he can hold onto something as he begins. "You know Peter so well," he began. May nodded; Y/n had come to her asking advice several times now. "I was thinking... maybe..." He cleared his throat, nervous. Once he said this to May it was in stone. Was he ready? Was Peter? "Do you think Peter is the marriage type?"

May froze, eyes wide. Y/n went solid and still as stone, only breathing again when May's shock flipped to glee. "You're thinking of proposing."

Okay. This was a good sign. "I was thinking about it," Y/n said slowly. "But I don't know if Peter would... want to. Or if it's too soon. Or if there's too much going on already with the whole Spider-Man thing." He shrugged, running his hand through his hair.

May nodded again, mulling Y/n's concern over. Every day Y/n thanked god she actually considered things rather than just jumping to "I want to see my boy married" like some aunts had before. It was a relief to know he could trust what she would say next.

"Have you talked to him about it?"

And sometimes Y/n wished she wasn't quite so good at what she did.

"Well-"

May cocked an eyebrow, her expression turning into something akin to 'you know what I'm going to say.' And it was true. Y/n did. He let her say it anyway. "I can't speak for my nephew, Y/n."

"I know," he sighed. "But I don't want to go in blind or jump the gun or scare him away-"

May chuckled. "That boy has seen more than I could even imagine." She paused for a second. "Normal things do scare him more than any villain in a suit could. But he's better about it than he used to be. And if you eased him into it, or took your shot, and we're ready for some possible rejection and not take it personally, it could be fine."

And there it was. The real reason Y/n was stressed. Because sure, Peter might not be ready, but if he wasn't and he ran and Y/n was crushed it could lead to the end of their relationship. They could both react very poorly...

This would mean Y/n would have to do it somewhere privately. It would have to be very low pressure, open minded. Understanding. Gentle. And it was a little heartbreaking that was the case. Y/n wanted to be a little loud, a little dramatic. And he would have to let that go.

May reached over, taking Y/n's hand. "It also doesn't have to be now. It should be when you're ready. The moment will come, and you'll know. You should only do it then." Her gaze was so soft and patient that Y/n could only absorb what she was saying directly into his soul. "Don't try to make a perfect moment. Let one come."

That advice stayed with Y/n until the moment came. He thought it had a few times but then it wouldn't quite pan out, or something would interrupt them or they'd need to stopper what they were doing and table it for later - when they moment was gone. But one day they were laying in bed, out of breath and grinning after Peter had stolen Y/n’s favorite jacket and Y/n had tried to take it back by force. Peter was much stronger than Y/n of course, and had plenty abilities to overwhelm him, but decided to play fair and shenanigans had turned into raucous laughter that had stolen both of their breath away.

Y/n looked at Peter and something warm and sweet touch him. May’s words came back to him full force in that moment and he was stunned to realize-

This was the moment.

“Will you marry me?” Peter turned, eyes wide, and immediately Y/n panicked. “Maybe not know. We don’t have to say now. But maybe one day.” His voice got dry when suddenly Peter took him by the face, kissing him.

The kiss was king and deep and passionate. Y/n felt something wet ion his cheek and realized Peter was crying.

When it ended, Peter pressed their foreheads together. “You’ve been so patient with me. I know you have. I know I’m not… easy. But I’m yours, and that was always enough for you.” He chuckled, seeming near giddy. Y/n felt his throat close with how much hope swelled in his chest. “I would love to maybe you. We can figure exactly when and how. Is that okay? If we don’t know exactly when?”

Y/n melted, raising a hand to run over Peter’s jaw. “I would marry you anywhere, any day, in any way that we could muster. Even if no one was there. Even if no one knew.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “You cheese ball.”

“Your cheese ball.” Y/n beamed. “For the rest of our lives?” It was timid, hopeful.

Peter sighed. “For the rest of our lives.”

Neither would ask more than that.

Male Readers: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz @fadedver

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sincericida · 9 months

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Please Sony, your motherfucker, let him fight the alien.

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plantbasementgif · 9 months

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ANDREW GARFIELD as Sam in Under the Sliver Lake (2018)

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hotstreak2k3 · 4 months

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Every versions of Peter Parker from the beginning to No Way Home.

#mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #tobey spiderman #tobey maguire #peter 1 #sam raimi spider man #andrew garfield #the amazing spider man #peter 2 #tom holland #captain america civil war #peter 3 #spider man no way home #spider man: no way home #marvel spiderman #sm nwh

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ultravioletrayz · 4 months

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Thank you all so much for 100 followers!! I appreciate you all an insane amount. I’m still getting used to writing on here, and it means everything to me when I receive the support.

I wanna do a special for the occasion, tell me what you want to see and I’ll try my best to make it happen.

wanted to do a fic for a special, but i’m lazy and have too many thoughts about this man swirling around in my brain to make an entirely coherent storyline lmao. lmk what you think and thanks to everyone who’s interacted with me and my writing!! 💜💜

#ultravioletrayz #miguel smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #tysm <3 #you’re all amazing #ilysm

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tomhardymyking · 5 months

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Now I understand why they said that the meeting between 𝗧𝗼𝗺's 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 & 𝗘𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝗕𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗸 and 𝗦𝗽𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗿-𝗠𝗮𝗻 will be sooner than we think 😏

Today a rumour has come out, by Danielrpk, about 𝑺𝒑𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓-𝑴𝒂𝒏 4 will have more connections with 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒚'𝒔 𝑼𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 and that this will pave the way for a potential merger of the 𝑴𝑪𝑼 and this one 😮

I've also been reading those comments that say that 𝗔𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗲𝘄 𝗚𝗮𝗿𝗳𝗶𝗲𝗹𝗱 is going to appear in 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒎 3 because our beloved director, 𝗞𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗲𝗹, said "amazing" in an interview about the film... 🤣

It would be very epic to see 𝗧𝗼𝗺 with 𝗧𝗼𝗺 𝗛𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱 like in this (edited) photo 👏🏻

But which 𝗦𝗽𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗿-𝗠𝗮𝗻 would you like? Or a new one that they introduce in their universe 👀?

⠀⠀⠀⠀

Ahora entiendo por qué decían que el encuentro entre el 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 y 𝗘𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝗕𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗸 de 𝗧𝗼𝗺 y 𝗦𝗽𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗿-𝗠𝗮𝗻 será más pronto de lo que pensamos 😏

Hoy ha salido el rumor, por Danielrpk, de que 𝑺𝒑𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓-𝑴𝒂𝒏 4 tendrá más conexiones con el 𝑼𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐 𝒅𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒚 y que esto allanará el camino para una posible fusión entre el 𝑼𝑪𝑴 y este 😮

He estado también leyendo esos comentarios que dicen que el 𝗦𝗽𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗿-𝗠𝗮𝗻 de 𝗔𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗲𝘄 𝗚𝗮𝗿𝗳𝗶𝗲𝗹𝗱 va a aparecer en 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒎 3 porque nuestra querida directora, 𝗞𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗲𝗹, dijo "increíble" en una entrevista sobre la película... 🤣

Sería muy épico ver a 𝗧𝗼𝗺 con 𝗧𝗼𝗺 𝗛𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱 como en esta foto (editada) 👏🏻

Pero, ¿cuál 𝗦𝗽𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗿-𝗠𝗮𝗻 te gustaría? ¿O uno nuevo que presenten en su universo 👀?

⠀⠀

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oneofstarkskids · 7 months

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spider bite

genre: fluff

relationship: tasm!peter x best friend!reader

you were standing in the aisle of the subway looking at your best friend who was now upside down and clinging to the ceiling, "what the f-"

he suddenly drops to the ground with a bewildered expression. you stand there with your mouth slightly agap in shock as he just brushes the incident off casually and tries to help the girl he accidentally spilled beer on, "i'm so sorry-" but he stops mid-sentence when he realizes his hand is stuck to her shirt.

"uh..." peter shook his hand desperately willing it to release itself from the already pissed off woman. "get your hand off her," the man next to peter antagonizes. he moves closer threateningly. "peter, take it off," you say from behind him.

he whirls around, hand still stuck to the shirt, and whispers to you, "i can't take it off."

"take it off!" you say with wide eyes.

"i can't take it off!" peter repeats.

suddenly the man pushes him backwards. peter's flying body barely missed you by an inch. simultaneously, the woman's shirt was ripped clean off and she was left standing in her bra. "oh my god," you say with raised eyebrows before rushing over and giving her your jacket.

"are you kidding me!? are you freaking kidding me?" the man says in a rather annoying voice. you watch as peter turns away from the man and gets distracted with his hand getting stuck to yet another object. the man takes this as his chance to swing at peter, "HEY!"

peter dodges the man with ease and sends him tumbling into the seats with a kick. "man, i'm sorry! oh man, are you okay?"

and though what peter did seemed purposeful, his voice was clearly laced with genuine regret. you watched as the people next to you started going after peter too, "peter!" without turning around, he pulled himself up sideways on the subway pole and blocked one of their attacks. more started coming after him and though you could see that your friend can clearly handle himself, you couldn't let him fight alone. you picked up your skateboard and broke it on one of the larger men's backs. he just turned around to face you with a sneer, "uh, hi," you waved cutely before the man lunged at you. peter grabbed him by the shirt and tossed him to the side. with another strange and sudden movement, he was hanging upside down on the pole and just pulled it out of the floor like pulling a toothpick out of cake batter.

you had to jump out of the way to avoid the pole that peter was now carelessly flinging around. after knocking down two more of the attackers, peter put a hand to his mouth in pure shock. "i'm so sorry!"

you just looked around at the bodies scattered on the floor and the two girls who hid themselves away in the corner.

peter dropped the pole and looked down at his hands with a mixture of emotions.

it just so happened that the next stop was yours, so the both of you got off the subway and away from the scene of the crime as quickly as possible. you two went straight to the abandoned warehouse you guys hung out at together. it was like your secret hideout where you'd go to skate, listen to music and talk about shit that you couldn't talk about with anybody else.

you were sitting on an old, rusted bench beside peter. "so..." you said under your breath as you looked down at the gravel beneath your feet.

peter nodded slowly, "so."

"that was kind of weird back there, huh?" you asked, not that it was really a question.

"definitely weird." he confirmed.

"you kind of stuck to the ceiling for a second," you stated, still trying to wrap your mind around it.

"definitely stuck to the ceiling."

you cleared your throat, "how long- how did..." you paused to get your thoughts together.

peter looked up from the ground and put his hands on your shoulders, "okay listen, i have to tell you something. something that i should've already told you, but i didn't and now i have no choice. something you can't tell anyone else."

you shook your head, "peter stop rambling and just spit it out."

peter nodded before sighing, "okay. remember how i kind of snuck away earlier at oscorp?"

you rolled your eyes, "yes, you left me there to deal with gwen. by the way, she didn't believe for a second that you weren't stalking her."

peter frowned, "what? i wasn't!" you gave him an accusing look.

peter changed subjects, "that's not the point. the point is, i found a lab."

"a lab?" you interrupted.

peter just continued, "yes. it was filled with these...spiders. they were crawling on thick, almost synthetic looking, webs."

"i reached out to touch one-"

"naturally," you said, not shocked in the slightest by his stupidity.

"and they just started falling," he continued.

"ew!" you said and shook off the mental image he'd placed in your mind.

horror movies, were fun. clowns, were entertaining. heights, were manageable. but spiders? definitely not.

peter had a terrified look in his eye, "i got out of there as quickly as possible, but one must've fallen down my shirt because i felt it bite me."

"where!?" you asked, voice laced with concern.

peter turned and held his neck to the side to show you, "back of my neck."

you frowned at the sight of the truly disgusting spider bite and a string hanging from it.

you reached for it and tugged. "ow, what the-" peter yelped.

"stay still," you ordered as you pulled the detached string from his shirt. at the end, a rather large translucent spider was curled up and dead.

"oh my god, take it! take it!" you practically shoved it into peter's hands. he examined it for a moment.

"i know this is going to sound crazy, but..." he started.

"you think this spider gave you," you paused. it didn't matter. any way you said it, it would just sound crazy. "powers?"

peter shrugged, "i don't know."

"and you're sure nothing else life-altering or suspicious happened to you within the last twenty-four hours?" you asked. peter gave you a look.

"i think i would remember."

"just checking."

you sighed and tried to process this newfound information.

"you know what this means right?" you asked.

peter looked over to you expectantly with his eyebrows raised in question.

"my best friend is a spider!" you joked.

peter shook his head, "not exactly."

"well, you're like, a spider-boy," you said, separating the words. peter laughed.

"are you gonna go like, full spider?" you asked, suddenly disgusted.

peter's eyes widened with worry, "i hope not!"

"sorry! it was an intrusive thought!"

peter stood up, "i should get home. are you staying for dinner again?"

you nodded before he turned and started walking off.

"hey, pete!" you shouted from your place on the bench.

he spun around, "yeah?"

you stood up and ran over to walk with him as he put his arm around your shoulder, "you know i'm always gonna be there for you right?"

peter smiled and kept looking forward.

"even if you turn into a big ugly creature with six legs," you said confidently.

"spiders have eight legs," he corrected.

"same thing."

#marvel #mcu #avengers #fanfiction #the amazing spider man #fanfic #andrew garfield #peter 3 #tasm!peter x reader platonic #tasm!peter x bestfriend!reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter fluff #tasm peter parker #marvel fluff

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inviewofkohaku · 5 months

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Basically Peter Parker is cute. (I think...)

It means there three peters are together is more 3 times cuter.

#peter parker #tasm peter parker #mcu peter parker #mcu spiderman #tasm spiderman #the amazing spider man #peter 1 #peter 2 #peter 3

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blue1102 · 11 months

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Spider-Man: No Way Home (2021)

#andrew garfield #movies #movieedit #spider man #spiderman #peter parker #the amazing spider man #Tasm #peter 3

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 7 months

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Babbling ~ P.P.

A/n: Sorry for missing Monday, but here’s this <3 Another request done :)

Request: “Tasm!Peter x male reader where reader gets invited to a party and brings Peter as his plus one or whatever and Peter getting drunk and touchy and confesses and saying how he wants to be with him and spend the rest of his life with him...” by anon

Word count: 2700+

MASTERLIST

Peter Parker and Y/n had always been a story for the ages.

It hadn't been life long friends, and their meeting hadn't been all that important. They'd had a class together and as both of them engaged with the content and asked questions and did reports and read out loud, their faces became familiar with each other. Then Spider-Man had gotten caught up in a fight and his mask had come off. Y/n had been stunned to see the big brown doe eyes of the cute guy in his AP bio class.

It had been the most anti-climactic thing, truly. Y/n had discovered a sight dedicated to "fangirling over Spider-Man" except that they didn't do much discussion or giving of content. However, when Y/n went through the internet looking for pictures with Spider-Man's face, there was a startling very few available. For how many hungry reporters and shocked civilian or eager tourist was here and with how often Spider-Man lost or destroyed or just straight up took off his mask, there should be more.

When he found that there were images, they were just unavailable, he deep dove it and used his skill witch coding to figure out what happened. And what he uncovered was stunning - the website "dedicated to fangirling over Spiderman" was either a cover, or they believed that the best fans were dedicated to keeping Spider-Man's secret identity a secret. Peter Parker was New York's little secret.

It made Y/n so curious to meet the man. So of course they had to.

Asking for notes or a pencil or complimenting a sweater or giggling at his jokes that he said under his breath turned into lunches together for convenience and then studying together and then suddenly they were friends. Exchanging phone numbers and inside jokes and nicknames.

It was obvious that he was Spider-Man if you knew what you were looking for. His poor excuses and his sudden exists and late entries. Cancelled plans right when Spider-Man was needed, and all for a job that didn't even pay that well.

Peter was fairly good at hiding it. He was a disaster - a mistake waiting to happen - but he had a whole city behind him so it was okay.

It made Y/n fall in love with Spider-Man even more.

And maybe Peter Parker too.

There was something about the boy though. Something darker that he shook off when he had the mask. Something heavy that was easy to miss when you couldn't see his facial expressions. There was a distance when Y/n would jokingly flirt or be physically affectionate. He offered to take Peter to meet his folks once and Peter had seemed... to not like that. He had squirmed and wriggled, desperate to get away. When he came up with an "emergency" and Spider-Man stopped a mugger and got a kite out of tree Y/n knew that he shouldn't bring it up again.

It was obvious that Peter had lost someone, so Y/n tucked away any realizations or feelings and let them stay casual friends. Not best friends, not truly close - always at an arm's length. But friends.

Until, of course, Peter got drunk.

Peter never wanted to go anywhere or do anything. Y/n was pretty sure he was depressed. Which had driven him to try and get Peter out more, to find him hobbies and past times. Peter had come to the parties and gatherings and slam poetries and walks and clubs Y/n had dragged him to, just like tonight, with the understanding that if he needed to leave he could at any moment.

It didn't seem that moment would come tonight.

At some point Peter had put down his phone and walked away after having a few drinks, getting looser and more relaxed. He never went far from Y/n but seemed to have a hard time sitting still or staying in the same place. They paced or walked in circles and that seemed to do the trick. Y/n had noticed the other man put down his phone after checking the time and walked away again, so Y/n had snagged it for safe keeping. He would give it back tomorrow morning.

It took a lot or drinks for Peter to get proper wasted, but it happened. It seemed to be absent minded and on accident. He kept talking and walking, keeping his voice above the music in the room, and Y/n found himself trailing after in a love sick haze. Peter was gorgeous on his own, but the way his face light up and his hair got messier and messier... he was breathtaking when he went on rants, and Y/n was more than pleased to listen.

So he didn't stop Peter from drinking. And to be fair, neither did Peter.

Y/n knew they'd both made a mistake when Peter stopped walking, leaning against a table behind him and sighing. Y/n came closer to check on him and Peter reached out, fingers wrapping around Y/n's waist and face pressing into his shoulder. Y/n's body blossomed with heat and something akin to a buzzing, making him tense but giddy.

He tried to ignore that.

Peter sighed, leaning against Y/n, and the more sober of them gave a little chuckle. "You okay, Pete?"

"You're so comfy," was all Peter had to say. His voice was soft and airy, almost sleepy. But he had no problem mostly keeping himself up, nor did he seem to sway or buckle. He was just... drawn to Y/n. Like a magnet.

Y/n blushed. "Thank you."

Peter stared, for a long time, not saying anything. Y/n got nervous, shifting. The look was full of adoration and warmth. Admiration simmered at the edges, a sappy smile smearing across his face. "Did I ever mention that you look really attractive when you get all..." he tilted his head, searching for a word. "Blushy." He giggled. "Shy? No. Not just shy, but reserved too. Nervous." His face flitted briefly into a scowl, but when he went from trying yo grasp the word in his mind to admiring Y/n again, the smile came back. "I'm glad we met."

Y/n couldn't get the courage to look at him. "So am I." He cleared his throat, melting under that gaze. Under those words. "Perhaps we should get home."

Peter nodded. "I don't want to be here anymore. Let's go somewhere - just us." He took Y/n's hands, taking longer to do so as he traced Y/n's fingers and sighed blissfully at the contact. Like he was relieved after so long wanting it. Like how Y/n did when he felt the touch.

"Yeah. If that's what you really want." Y/n closed his eyes, chastising himself and forcing himself to stay focused. "Tomorrow. Tonight you need sleep." He began walking, keeping an eye on if Peter needed help walking, but he didn't. Not surprising for the same Spider-Man that could balance on a string that seemed thin as hair, or cling to any surface.

Peter whined and Y/n had to hide a smile with his free hand. "Not tomorrow," he begged, tugging on Y/n's hand. It was almost like a child begging for candy in the store, but less dramatic and much mote desperate. The thought of leaving Y/n seemed to genuinely upset him... Y/n didn't know how to feel about that. "I'll go to bed if you spend the night."

Now that was dangerous.

Y/n only hummed in thought, actually considered it. Drunk people were hard to handle and even if he didn't, he would need to lie to Peter to get him home. If the superhero genuinely didn't want to go or decided that messing around with Y/n to prolong their time together it would he near impossible to get ahold of him again...

They got all the way to Peter's door before he spoke again. "Are you staying?"

Y/n gave him a sideways look as he pushed the door open, having snagged Peter's keys from his pocket. He'd thought he's gotten away with it after such a long silence, but it seemed Peter was eternally patient even drunk. He sighed as they moved into the apartment, Peter always snatching Y/n's hand the second they were free. "Why does it matter so much to you that I stay, hm?" He pulled himself away from the drunk man again, closing the door and putting the keys away. Pulling Peter's jacket off and removing his shoes and grabbing a glass of water and Ibuprofen for tomorrow morning, setting it on the table at Peter's bed. It was only when he seemed finished, about to head out again, that Peter caught him.

Holding one of Y/n's hands in each of his, looking deep into his eyes, Peter didn't just seem genuine, he seemed raw. Exposed. "Y/n. I've been punishing myself for so long... always alone. For so long." He closed his eyes, pressing their foreheads together. "It's suffocating me, the loneliness. And you make it easier to breathe. So... stay. If you want." He swallowed before adding a breathless, "Please."

Y/n's heart was ramming in his chest. "If you need a friend tonight, I can of course stay." He added friend on purpose this time - to remind himself.

That seemed to upset Peter though. "Don't call yourself that. Please, please don't-" he closed his eyes tightly. "I know we're friends. And I'm goad we're friends. But don't remind me we're friends when I want to kiss you so badly. Please."

Y/n's breath caught. "Pete-" He stopped himself. "You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

Peter chuckled, shaking his head. "Drunk words are sober thoughts. That's a popular saying for a reason."

Oh god.

"You- I-" Y/n's face was burning and he was running out of reasons to go. Ways to deny it. Peter was Spider-Man. There's so much Y/n still wasn't supposed to know. They'd been friends for a while now, and they were just getting close. There was still that gap though. That space that Peter kept.

Now he was throwing all of it away.

Peter didn't wait for Y/n to form thoughts. He let go of Y/n's hands, reaching up for his face instead. Peter's face trailed Y/n's jaw. "Can I kiss you? I... I've wanted to kiss you for so long. If you felt the same way. The way your heart is racing, I thought you might."

Y/n's eyes widen. Of course he can hear heartbeats. The world wouldn't be as unfair as it was if he couldn't.

But also, how could be lie now? When Peter knew he was? And maybe it was selfish, and he'd get his heart broken in the morning, but Peter was begging and god if Y/n wasn't just as eager.

"Okay."

There was no hesitation after that. Y/n had expected raging fire, or fireworks, but there was none of that. It was relief, cool to the touch like a breeze on a sweltering day, or a breath after drowning. It was laying in bed after a long, exhausting day or drinking something warm and sitting by the fire after a day of ice and snow.

Y/n did more than just stay over. It happened so fast, each kiss getting more and more desperate until their hands were wandering and they were falling back onto the bed and Peter didn't stutter a single second. He didn't stumble or hesitate. He had seemed to drink so much but all his words came easily, any slur he'd had before completely gone. He seemed sober.

Y/n was an idiot.

He tried to leave, but Peter had gripped onto his arm and begged him to stay. So Y/n woke up next to him in the morning, slipping out of bed and wandering into the living room.

Okay so that had just happened.

He felt like a villain. He felt like a moron. Peter had been drunk. FUCK he was a horrible person.

Out of part guilt and part anxiety, Y/n tidied the living room and kitchen before beginning to make breakfast. He couldn't in good will just leave Peter alone that morning, but he also couldn't stay in that bed. See Peter panic when he woke up and realized what had happened.

Would he panic? Would he be angry?

He would be justified to feel angry.

Y/n jumped when a set of arms wrapped around his waist from behind, a face burying into his shoulder. "Smells good," came Peter's muffled voice.

Y/n wordlessly finished the food, plating it and turning off the stove before turning to Peter. The brunette seemed weirdly unphased, taking each thing and making two plates, then wandering into the living room to set them down on the clean table, plopping onto the couch. He smiled. "And you clean? I'm spoiled."

Y/n crossed his arms over his chest, a little confused and a little annoyed. "Peter. We need to talk about last night."

The smile faded off of his face and it happened so easily that Y/n was stunned to realize it had been more fake than he'd realized. "I'm sorry."

That came as a shock too. "You're sorry? You? Peter, I'm sorry."

Peter looked up at that, narrowing his eyes in confusion. "I'm the one who was pushing you into-" He looked away. "You obviously regret it, and it was stupid, and I'm sorry I just-"

Y/n scoffed. "Peter, you were drunk. You were more honest than you usually are. That isn't a bad thing. But you were drunk, and I wasn't, and I completely took advantage of you and-"

Peter tilted his head. "I wasn't drunk."

Y/n froze. "What?"

Peter blushed. "Well- I was drunk at first." He looked away, fiddling with a couch pillow. "But by the time we got here I was pretty much sober. I have some what of a healing factor, so-"

Y/n's eyes widened. "You have a what?"

Peter looked back, his expression dripping with amusement. "Y/n, I'm not good at keeping secrets, and you're not good at it either. My mask is hanging up on the hook by the door and you hung up my keys next to it and didn't even blink."

Y/n's head whipped around and - sure enough - there was the mask.

Damnit.

He looked back sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I... just..."

Peter laughed, standing from the couch. "It's okay. I... appreciate it, honestly. Most people demand explanations or details or ask an overwhelming questions. When I realize you knew?" He shook his head. "How long have you known?"

Y/n pursed his lip, shrugging. A... while."

Peter snorted. "Since the beginning then."

Y/n winced. "Not the very beginning."

Peter laughed again, this time closing the distance between them. "I don't know what you were beating yourself up for but I hope you realize that you don't have to. I was drunk, and that made me much more affectionate than I usually am... but, it was the affection itself that drove me insane. It was likeI'd been starving." He shrugged. "I probably was. But kissing you..." He smiled sweetly.

Y/n blushed. It was quiet for a moment before he asked, “So you’re glad last night happened?”

Peter grinned. “Yes. I am.” He shuffled, as if he wanted to ask something but felt too silly to do so.

“I’m glad it happened too,” Y/n eased. Peter melted in relief, his expression blooming with adoration - so close to the way he had looked at Y/n last night. Y/n took his hand, tracing the bones and veins. “Do you… want to be my boyfriend?” He cringed - it felt so silly to ask. Like he was in middle school all over again.

A chuckle came from Peter, but his answer didn’t follow in the form of words. Instead he reached over, catching Y/n’s chin and leaning into a kiss. They sighed blissfully at the same time, and Y/n divided that was answer enough.

Male Readers: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz @fadedver

#Peter Parker #peter 3 x reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #the amazing spiderman x male reader #the amazing Spider-Man #the amazing Spider-Man imagine #the amazing Spider-Man x reader #Spiderman x reader #Spiderman x male reader #Spiderman imagine #male reader #marvel

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