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strangerstilinski · 19 days

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𝙞𝙩 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

word count: 2.5k warnings: none really, fluffy ending, steve is kind of a dick, mention of alcohol, gender neutral reader (pls let me know if i missed anything) based on that scene in tasm where peter spins gwen around to kiss her — with just a dash of enemies to lovers

It should go without saying that Steve Harrington is the bane of your goddamned existence. If the two of you aren't at each other's throats, it typically just means that you're both doing your best to pretend the other doesn't even exist.

And, sure, maybe it drives you a little bit insane that he seems to get along just fine with every person in your friend group except for you. It was like you pushed buttons that Steve wasn't even aware he had.

Nancy finds the whole thing amusing, says that Steve's clearly so in love with you that he doesn't know how to handle it. Eddie swears that Steve looks at you with hearts in his eyes, though any time you've caught his stare those ‘hearts’ tended to look a whole lot more like daggers. Argyle and Robin both insist that love and hate tread a very thin line, and eventually, a little push will have the two of you stumbling head over heels into each other's waiting arms. Johnathan tends to stay out of it, but then, he doesn't really need to say anything, because you've seen that look he gives you when he catches you looking a little too long at the moles dotted along the length of Steve's throat, or that stubborn lock of hair that tumbles over his brow bone, or the way his tongue pokes out and his eyes narrow cutely when he's concentrating-

You hate it. You hate Steve. Even now, you swear you hate him, regardless of the way you shamelessly ogle the curve of his bicep when he reaches across the back of the sofa to drape his arm loosely behind Robin's shoulders. You've accepted it. At this point, allowing yourself to admire his stupidly handsome physique was merely reparations for being forced to put up with him on a near-daily basis. Compensation for the never-ending bad attitude that he seemed to direct solely at you.

“Does anyone hear that?” Steve's voice speaks louder than your own suddenly, effectively cutting you off even though you'd been in the middle of a sentence. His eyes meet yours for just a brief second before his gaze is moving elsewhere, “It’s like, this annoying buzzing sound?” He's sitting up a little straighter following his interruption, brows drawing together like he's listening intently for something.

His sudden line of questioning has thoroughly derailed your train of thought. The longwinded story you'd been regaling to the group about a customer at work is cut short, the words dissolving on your tongue as your try to work out what on earth Steve is referring to. Until his interruption, you hadn't heard anything.

“What are you even talking abou-”

“There!” He cuts you off once more, “There it is again! Did you hear that, Robs?” The fingers he nudges into his best friend's ribs makes her squirm away with a deep laugh.

“Are you seriously implying that I'm the-”

“God, you are hearing that, right?” Steve interrupts with an irritatingly pleased grin on his face, “Like nails on a chalkboard-”

Though Robin's laughter isn't actually directed at you, your face burns hotly anyway. A pity-filled smile graces her lips when she meets your gaze after escaping the wrath of Steve's tickling, and the boy's chuckles of amusement only serve to make you grind your teeth together in irritation.

“Real mature, dickhead.” You snap, snatching up the beer you'd set down on the coffee table when Eddie had actually asked you about your day a few minutes before. “I was in the middle of a story.”

“Yeah, no offense, honey, but I don't think any of us were that invested hearing you talk about the ‘big tip’ that some douchebag with a hand tattoo left you.” Steve grumbled with a roll of his eyes, “If your stories weren't so boring, maybe we wouldn't all be sitting here hoping for a hole in the earth to open up under us just so we don't have to keep listening to-”

“Steve, c'mon man-” Eddie tries, though his voice is drowned out by your own.

“Jesus, do you have to be such an asshole all the time?” You snap in Steve's direction.

“I'm just saying,” Steve shrugged, “Probably the only reason he left such a big tip was because pulled the wrong bill out of his wallet. It sure as hell wasn't 'cause of your shining personality.”

“What, and just 'cause you're a jackass that means no man could ever possibly find me appealing?” You bite back.

“Yeah, well, your pretty face doesn't quite make up for your constant need for attention.”

“My need for attention?” You scoff incredilously, beer slamming back down onto the tabletop in front of you as the rest of your friends seem to fade even further into the background. “You're the one who can't stand when the focus is on me for ten fucking seconds.”

“Well I don't care if some prick hit on you at work-” Steve argues, “So, I guess, if that makes me an asshole-”

“It does, as a matter of fact,” You interrupt easily, “Because I'm constantly listening to you whine about your conquest of the week, and I'm able to do so without acting like a fucking-”

“Careful,” Steve hums, cocky little smirk reemerging on his lips, “You're sounding a little jealous, there, honey.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“'S my house,” He returns just as quickly, “How 'bout you fuck off.”

The blood in your veins is full of fire. Your face is burning with rage and your eyes prickle traitorously with frustrated tears, because that customer from your story? That was the highlight of your day, because the rest of it had been a fucking disaster.

You'd slipped on freshly mopped floors and dropped an entire table's drink orders. You'd been forced to finish your shift with sticky, soda pop-soaked socks squelching wetly in your shoes with every step. Your boss had given you shit, even though it was one of your coworkers who had failed to put out the wet floor sign in the first place. You'd burned yourself on a hotplate, twice. And then, after all that, you'd had no choice but to take an ice-cold shower before heading over to Steve's house, because the hot water heater in your decrepit apartment building was apparently broken. Again.

“Y'know what? Fine.”

You're already rising to your feet, wiping the palms of your hands down your jeans to dry the lingering condensation from your beer. You blink furiously to push back the tears that had been pooling at your waterline, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the turn in your evening.

“Wha-” Steve is watching you with something like concern in his eyes now, “Wh-Where're you goin'?”

“I'm leaving,” You announce, gaze steadfastly avoiding where Steve has removed his arm from around Robin's shoulders so he can sit at the edge of the couch, like he's planning to rise to his own feet at any moment. “I, um. I'll talk to you guys later.”

There are protests from everyone, but you don't bear them any mind. You're already turning on your heel and moving toward the entryway with hurried steps. The front door slams shut behind you before you've even gotten your jacket all the way on. You've still got one arm still struggling to find the hole of your sleeve when you hear the door swing back open behind you.

“Hey! Wait up.”

Steve's voice does make you slow where you've begun to move down the driveway, though you don't turn around. Your steps finally come to a stop when he calls out to you again.

“C'mon, honey wait, wait, wait-”

You blow out a frustrated breath as he finally catches up with you, your arms crossing over your chest like that might somehow put up a physical barrier between the two of you.

“I really don't want to do this with you, Harrington. Alright?” An air of defeat laces your words, one hand coming up to rub at the headache that’s begun to pulse between your brows, “Just.. Not tonight.”

You move to step around him and the heel of your boots click against the pavement once, twice. But then something hooks into the belt loop on your jeans and you're tugged back around. You lose your footing at the unexpected shift in momentum, knees wobbling unsteadily for just a moment before you're twirled back around to face him and then your palms are meeting a firm chest.

The adrenaline has your brain whiting out for just a moment, any and all thoughts screeching to a halt. There’s warmth seeping into your palms from beneath Steve’s tshirt. The racing of your own heart in your ears drowns out the distant sound of laughter and the opening trailers of a movie rental coming from inside. Your eyes are level with his chin, wide gaze locked on his lips as they quirk up at one corner with his gentle smirk. You’re still standing pigeon-toed between his own larger feet, a little off balance but held firmly in place by the wide hand splayed across your waist.

“I'm sorry.” Steve says quietly.

It’s only been a second or two since he dragged you back into his space, and to your surprise, his head dips, just a fraction. Steve brushes his nose against your own, a gentle stroke that sends butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildly. The cool mint clinging to his breath fans out over your face smelling of the gum he’s always chewing and smacking obnoxiously, but the scent this close is intoxicating. The hand he brings up to cradle your jaw is intoxicating. The loose flap of leather on his watch that tickles at the side of your throat. The way he’s leaning in-

The passion he kisses you with, from the moment your lips touch, is intoxicating. It's all-encompassing. You can’t think, and you’re not sure you’re even breathing, but his lips are moving in unhurried synchronization with your own. Your knees are weak. You’re gripping the material of his shirt in your fists just for something to hold onto, but Steve’s arm is curled tight around the curve in your spine now to hold you steady.

His tongue brushes against your lips, licking softly at the seam of your mouth like he's asking for permission. The desperate sound that crawls up your throat at just that quick brush of his tongue nestles in the depths of Steve's brain where he files it away for later. He hitches his arm even tighter at your waist, pulling your stomachs flush until your chest heaves against his own.

Your head is a little fuzzy when your lips separate long enough for you to take a breath, and you’re gasping comically in an effort to fill your lungs. Steve’s quiet chuckle meets your ears, his hand sliding back from your jaw to cup the back of your neck.

“You kissed me.” The words fall from your lips in a whisper of disbelief. Your eyes are still closed, lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks. You’re terrified if you open them even a crack, the entire scene will suddenly fade away around you like some kind of dream. The airy cadence of your voice is partially due to your surprise, but also thanks to the far-too-easy grace with which you've been spun and manhandled and swept entirely off your feet.

“I did,” Steve agrees just as quietly, “I did do that.”

His forehead meets your own as your eyes flutter open and he simply holds you there for a moment, nose dragging across your cheek before he presses another quick kiss to your lips. His head tilts, thumb stroking soft over the side of your throat before his mouth finds yours again, and again. These kisses are different — casual, tender, sweet and unhurried. Like he’s kissing you just because he can.

“You-” Is all you manage to get out before your words are silenced by his lips slotting between your own, but you carry on with barely a pause as you click apart once again, “Y'r still doing it.”

“Mhm.” He hums easily, the sound rumbling beneath your hands on his chest.

“Why-”

Kiss.

“Are you-”

Kiss.

“Kissing me?”

Steve’s breath mingles hotly with your own in the narrow breadth of space between your parted lips, “D’you want me to stop?”

“No. Hell no.”

And there's that perfect smile of his. Straight teeth make an appearance as his lips quirk up at the corner, a breathy spearmint scented laugh that sounds a little too relieved for the casual coolness that he's clearly trying to give off. His mouth opens like he's going to say something, but no words seem to come. Lips parted, throat bobbing as he swallows around the heavy silence weighing down his tongue.

He looks so pretty like this, you think. The light shining above your heads catches in his brown eyes, caramel sparking with flecks of gold and green that you've never noticed before, but you're sure you'll never be able to forget the sight of it now. You're still sharing breaths, faces so close that you can't avoid watching the way his full lashes blink at you dumbly. As if he isn't the one who spun you around and pulled you close and effortlessly gave you the best kiss of your entire life. As if, maybe, he didn't quite expect to make it this far, and now he's at a loss for how to proceed.

You release his shirt from your fist, the fabric crinkled and stretched with how tight you'd been gripping it, only to slide your hand up the back of his neck. The tip of his nose catches the bottom of your own, lips brushing faintly while your hand finds a new home in his hair. The soft strands tangle between your fingers when you give it a gentle tug and push up on your toes to draw yourself impossibly closer.

“If I'd known kissing you was all it took to shut you up, Harrington, I would've done it ages ago.” Your quip lacks its usual bite, but it breaks the silence between you, and it also seems to break Steve out of whatever spell he'd fallen under.

His tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he searches for an appropriate response, “Maybe we'll just have to keep kissing then.”

You find yourself swaying just a little on your feet at the way his eyes flick slow back and forth between your own, “Maybe we will.”

When his lips descend on your own again, it takes ages before he lets you back up for a decent breath of air, and even then he parts from you with obvious reluctance. You're both breathing heavy, lips a little swollen and shining wetly. Steve's expression has a warmth that you realize you've never actually seen directed at you before. Steve smiles at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and suddenly all you can think about is what Eddie has said a hundred times over.

It’s like there are hearts in his eyes.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve x you #steve x reader #*

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the-oblivious-writer · 7 months

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After The Storm |1|

Tara Carpenter x Spider-Women!Reader

Chapter One: Mutant Lizards & Kisses

(idk how many chapters I'll do for this series but I'm just winging it for now)

Summary: After your fight with The Lizard, you climb back with quite a few injuries. Luckily, Tara's there to tend to them

Warning(s): Swearing, Police!Sam 🤭, mentions of fighting & injuries

Notes: Based off of this scene in TASM (gotta be one of my favorite scenes). Wrote this while taking a break from writing chp 6 of LTLI. Motivation for this kinda just came to me and I've always wanted to do a spider!reader thing

Masterlist|Next Part

You limped, nearly collapsing on the roof as you held your side.Your trap for Dr. Connors did not work out how you planned, and your recklessness to get more photos than you needed ended you up with none.

You painfully crawled down, making your way to the fire escape outside the window you recognized. You knocked on it three times with your head, ignoring your pounding headache. You kept your head resting on the window as you heard clicking from the other side. Tara looked over to you and smiled before saying, “Come in,” then turning back to the assignment she was working on.

You push the window up, sliding through the opening as you exhale tiredly.

“You should maybe, uh, consider coming in through the main entrance,” Tara jokes and you huff a laugh.

You struggle to lift yourself until finally hopping into her room

“Also, my sister is under the impression that you require psychiatric attention….” Tara finally turns to you when she hears you grunt and her eyes slightly widen.

“Y/N.” She stood up from her chair and rushed over to you. You’re now leaning against the wall, when Tara comes up to you.

“What the hell happened?” She asked quickly.

“You should see the other guy,” you say in a husky voice; you can still see Tara fretting over your injuries.

She carefully walks you to her bed, gently laying you down, not wanting to cause you any further pain. You tilt your head back as you continue to speak through deep breaths, “the other guy, in this instance being a giant mutant lizard.”

“You’re all bruised up–”

“Tara, I’m fi–”

“You’re not fine,” Tara interrupted in a sharp tone.

“Tara–”

You both stopped your movement when you heard Sam’s voice from the other side of the door.

“Hey, Tara, I have to run to the station. Do you want me to pick up some ice cream from that place you like, on the way back?” You and Tara shared a look before she got up and you rolled to the floor.

Tara opened the door just a few inches to greet her older sister. “No, Sam. I do not want ice cream. I can’t afford any distractions right now. I have a bunch of exams to prepare for,” Tara said, trying to fake an aggravated tone.

“Okay, I just remember somebody saying last week that her fantasy was to live in an ice cream house,” Sam reminded Tara.

“Well that's impractical,” she said, shutting the door. “And fattening,” she added after opening the door, now shutting it again.

She turned around to see you peeking from behind the bed, giving her a dopey smile. “An ice cream house?” You questioned, still wearing the same expression.

Tara rolled her eyes, nodding, still not saying a word before turning back around to open the door once again.

“Sorry…” Tara apologized to Sam.

“It’s really good ice cream.”

“It’s just I can’t, um, I'm doing this um—paper and I’m really focused on it. Didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay, I get it. How about I bring you a some for later?”

“Okay, sounds good. Thanks Sammy,” Tara said with a smile before shutting the door one more time.

As soon as she walked back in the room, she gave you no room to talk. Already giving you directions to follow as she got her medkit from her nightstand’s bottom drawer.

“Roll down your suit.”

You sigh but comply. “I’m fine, just a little banged up. I almost got him though—Dr. Connors. I can feel it, Tar. I’m gonna get him next time.”

“I swear, Y/N, if you get yourself killed I will make sure you regret it,” the younger Carpenter threatened.

“Why? Gonna miss me?” You teased, looking at the other girl as her attention was on the rubbing alcohol she was preparing.

“In your dreams, Y/L/N,” Tara replied, but you saw the tiny smile she gave you before looking back at what she was doing.

“Ah…” You softly groaned, feeling the sting as the rubbing alcohol made contact with your open wound.

Tara gave you an apologetic look, “It’ll be done soon.”

“And when that's done?”

“What do you mean?” Tara asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“After this, how about we do something?”

She lightly shook her head with a smile before replying. “And Sam comes home to an empty apartment? Yeah, no.”

“I’ll get you home in time before Sam is,” you reassure her.

“You’re forgetting Sam’s a police captain,” Tara’s body betrays her as she melts into your touch, feeling your hand gently sneak up her arm.

“Unless she can track my web-shooters, I think we’re good.”

“I don’t know…” she looks down, averting her attention to one of your other cuts she’s tending too.

You left hand lifts her head, her chin resting on your knuckles.

“Come on…”

Your foreheads meet and the towel in her hand is long forgotten. You brush your thumb against her bottom lip, you both slightly lean in until your lips are only centimeters apart.

“Easy bug girl…” You heard her whisper.

“What’d you just call me?” You asked as you both lightly laugh, faces never pulling from each other.

“Let's get out of here,” you said as you comedically shook your head around, causing Tara to giggle. “Just for a minute, come on.”

Your noses rubbed together as Tara leaned into you.

“No..”

“Yeah..”

“Noo..”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Noooo…” She hated how much she wanted to say yes to you.

“Yesss,” your smile never falters through this yes and no battle. You looked at how Tara looked away for a moment before looking back at you with a smile she was visibly fighting and in that moment you knew you won.

“...I better be home before Sam is.”

—

When you land back on Tara’s fire escape, she’s clinging onto you for dear life while her face's buried in your chest. You smile down at her as you tell her, “We’re back by the way,” resisting the urge to place a kiss on her head.

“Yeah—yeah I knew that,” she replied, slowly pulling away from you.

You can’t help but chuckle at her shooken state. “Oh, you think this is funny? We were so high up—a drop that high is deadly, Y/N.”

“You think I’d drop ya?”

“No, cause’ then Sam would bury you alive.”

“Speaking of Sam,” you’re both fully in the room now as you look at her bedroom door and then back at Tara, “Looks like she’s not here…”

“Y/N…”

“Tara…”

“I already let you swing me around while a billion feet in the air; you’re still needy for my attention?” She teased, slightly tilting her head.

“What, you don’t wanna hang out with me?” You teased back.

You’re now directly in front of her, Tara’s legs hit the back of the bed and you can feel her breath on yours. Your hands end up on her hips and her left hand lightly cups your jaw.

In a husky voice you begin, “Tara, you have no idea–"

Suddenly the front door can be heard opening, the various locks twisting and turning. You and Tara looked at each other before Tara shoved you under the bed. Footsteps came closer and closer until Sam opened the door to find her sister sitting at her desk, headphones in, and pen in hand.

Tara turned to look at the door, pulling out her headphones when she made eye contact with Sam. “Oh, hey Sam. I was just finishing up this paper,” Tara said innocently, giving the paper a single tap with her pen.

Sam slightly nodded, looking around—Tara noticed this. “Did you need something?” Tara asked the older Carpenter.

“Uh, no—no, I just thought I heard something. Anyways,” Sam slightly shook her head, “got you that ice cream. It’s in the freezer when you want it.”

“Thanks, Sam. Love you,” Tara responded. “Love you too,” Sam said back with a smile before leaving the room but not without taking one more scan of the room.

You waited another minute before crawling out from under her bed.

“That was a close one, bug girl.”

“Is that gonna be a permanent nickname?”

“You bet it is, bug girl."

You playfully rolled your eyes, a smile grazing your face when you see her dimples show. "You're lucky you're cute," you tell her.

"Oh? Would you rather me call you my savior?" Tara jokingly batted her eyelashes at you.

You bit lip in thought. "It's got a ring to it..."

"Yeah, no. 'Think I'm sticking with bug girl for now."

"Worth a shot," you shrugged before walking over to her,"Now...where were we?"

"You were leaving–"

"Mmm, no. That' not what I recall."

Before Tara could respond, you began placing kisses that travled to her jaw then neck, making her knees grow weak as you slowly lead her to the bed until her back softly hit the mattress.

You hovered above her while she gratefully accepted your touch, holding onto your biceps while you continued to kiss her.

"Y/N, my sister's right outside. And if you've forgotten; she has a warrant out for your 'wall crawling vigilante ass'—her words, not mine," Tara said, breath hitching as you continued to kiss her neck.

You stopped mid kiss, looking around the room then slightly frowned, furrowing your eyebrows as you looked back at her. "Is she here in the room with us...? Cause I don't see her."

"Y/N..."

"Tara..."

Tara let out a light sigh, raising one of her hands to cup your jaw. "Five. Minutes." She told you, holding your jaw with a gentle yet firm grip.

"Yes ma'am."

-----------

A/N: R because she didn't pack extra web fluid like Tara told her to:

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x female reader #tara x reader #tara carpenter x spider reader #spider reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #scream fanfic #scream

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moonstruckme · 6 months

Note

Oooo darling!! Your latest TASM fic sparked and idea!

(Before that, hello lovely 🩷 i hope you're having the best spooky season!)

Big brother!Sirius coming to save some poor sod that upset his slytherin!sister (Regulus' twin). So you have the charming & fun Sirius; quiet & regal Regulus; loyal & volatile reader. And i imagine Sirius calls them his twin stars (because hes deffinately a huge sap).

Where wolfstar is in 7th year and has a great relationship with the twins (maybe theyre trying to become their legal guardians behind the scenes). He and Remus are in their dorm before Peter bursts in, breathless, only saying "y/n" before Sirius is off. He has no doubt to why you were put in 🐍, and god forbid someone actually hurt his baby sister.

On reader's side, someone made a snide comment about Remmy being a halfblood or ruining the Black legacy or something and reader gets pissed because shes actually quite fond of him.

Then whatever you decide love; maybe reader gets hurt; maybe she does the hurting; maybe Remus saves the day with his long legs; or Sirius might show people what growing up in the 'Noble house of Black' does to someone. And idk what Reggie is doing, i imagine he was making out with James and they come in at the last minute ("😱 james!! What have you done!? Youve DEFILED one of my precious stars!!! Let go of him!!!! NO, dont touch him, get away.")

Anyway bub, as always; dont feel pressured and take all the creative liberties youd like!! Love you lots darling x

Hi my lovely, thanks for requesting! I really need to get more creative than bloody noses but ugh they're just so classic

cw: blood

big brother!sirius + (as opposed to x, I guess?) little sister!reader ♡ 861 words

“You weren’t there!” you insist as Sirius stalks back and forth across the room, tapping his wand against his leg in a quick, restless beat. “He said—he—” You look at Remus, the boy’s eyebrows drawn together in concentration and concern as he presses a cloth under your nose, trying to stop the blood that’s already crusted down your chin. You decide to keep your mouth shut.

Remus smiles wryly, and you know he suspects why you’ve chosen to go quiet. “It doesn’t matter what they said, love. I don’t need you getting in fights for me.”

“Who was it?” Sirius demands, for probably the fourth or fifth time. You’re losing count.

“It’s already been hand—ah!” Remus murmurs an episky while you’re distracted, and you flinch, hands flying to your face as your septum snaps back into its proper place. “Fuck, could’a given me some warning.”

“Sorry,” Remus says, and he looks like he means it, tilting your chin up to continue cleaning your face as you look at him with teary eyes. “Thought it might hurt less if you weren’t expecting it.”

“How do you figure?” you ask him, somewhat miffed.

“Back. On. Task.” Sirius claps his hands with each word, coming to a stop in front of you. “Who did this? Remus is my boyfriend, I have twice as much a right to defend his honor as you do, you—you fucking—squirt.”

You sneer at the childish name, but you know your brother means to rile you. “I told you, I handled it. He won’t do it again.”

“And he’s never going to touch you again either,” Sirius promises menacingly, squatting in front of you to look you in the eyes, “if you just tell me the fucker’s name.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Remus says, taking his boyfriend’s shoulder in a spindly hand, the touch both soothing and controlling as he pushes Sirius back from you. “Let’s just let her rest for a minute, yeah?” Sirius sputters in protest, but Remus moves in front of him, pressing his face into his boyfriends’ dark locks. You roll your eyes at the display, though a tiny part of you loves that your brother has someone who loves him this well. Once he quiets, Remus speaks in a low, soothing voice. “I know, I know, you won’t be deterred from your vengeance, but there’s time for that later. Let’s just calm down for now.”

It’s a lovely prospect, but at that moment, the door opens to reveal Regulus and James, both looking somewhat ruffled. James stops short at seeing you all gathered in his dorm (Remus and Sirius, of course, have every right to be here, but you’d bet he and Reg were hoping for some privacy) and stands there blinking for a moment. Your twin’s blasé facade slips the moment he sees you with blood still crusted to your nostrils and tear tracks down your face.

“What happened?” he asks, pushing past James and into the dorm.

“She got into a fight,” Sirius says, outrage instantly rekindled, and Remus sighs in exasperated resignation, his work undone. “Someone said something about Moony, but she won’t tell who.”

Now James looks upset too, eyes darting to Remus concernedly. “About Moony? When?”

“Just now!” Sirius throws up his hands. “Ten minutes ago! Did either of you see anything?”

James shakes his head, and despite Regulus’ blank expression, you catch the embarrassed shifting of his stance. “No,” James says, “we were, uh…we didn’t see anything.”

“I bet I know who it was though,” Regulus offers, that traitorous scum. He’s just throwing you under the bus to take the heat off himself.

It works; Sirius perks up. “Yeah? Who?”

“It doesn’t matter who,” you say, but Sirius cuts you off, facing your twin.

“Who?” he asks.

“It was the guy you were arguing with yesterday too, right?” Reg glances at you for confirmation, and you glare at him. Don’t you dare, your look says, but he nods and turns back to Sirius. “He’s your year, the one you guys call Sni—”

“Reg and James were coming in here to have sex!” you blurt.

It’s a wonder Sirius doesn’t get whiplash from how fast he turns around. “What?”

You nod, unable to feel guilty as Regulus gives you an appalled look from behind your older brother. “Mhm,” you say. “Their hair is all messed up, and look—their lips are swollen. Plus, they were surprised we were in here.”

You do feel a tiny bit bad for James, whose dark skin blanches when Sirius turns on him. “James Potter, did you come in here to defile my brother?”

James looks to Remus for help, but his friend only turns his palms up like Sorry, what can you do?. After a second, Regulus steps closer to him.

“Sirius, we—”

“Don’t touch him,” Sirius practically retches. He shakes his head, grabbing Regulus by the arm and all but dragging him from the room. “Alright, listen. You are going to tell me who was talking shit about Remus, and then we’re going to have an entirely separate conversation about boundaries.” He casts a noxious look back at James. “And I’ll deal with you later!”

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lovelettersforthedamned · 2 months

Note

craving some angst with fluff at the end or like hurt/comfort with peter because im delusional and like to imagine them in my head and in the end it makes us stronger as a couple (i have no idea what im talking about rn) - 🎀

Fight For You

✮ tasm!peter parker x f!reader

✮ word count: 1.9k

✮ summary: when you find peter battered, bruised, and barely hanging onto life, you make a rash decision to help him in a fight against vulture. when you get hurt, your mind brings you to a place of guilt.

✮ warnings: language, violence, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, a few kisses, reader overthinks.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main masterlist ⋆ peter parker masterlist

not my gif

The crowd around you couldn’t have been more packed. You’re pushing against the flow of people pushing past you, trying to flee from the scene before you. Any normal person would. But as your boyfriend starts to limp his way towards Vulture, you begin to shove yourself towards him.

Before he left, he gave you a quick kiss and pleaded for you not to follow him. He knew you were safer in your apartment, but of course, you didn’t remain in the safety of your home. You held your phone tight as you scrolled through the live news, tracking down the focal point of the action. That’s where you find yourself standing at a barricade, watching your Peter clutch his side, barely rising to his feet.

You have an iron grip on your phone, your knuckles turning white as you fight the urge to hop over the metal. Police cars line in front of you, acting as a second line of defense. Their guns are drawn, focused on Vulture as he towers over your boyfriend. Peter is exhausted, you can tell by the sway in his movements. And when the winged man knocks him to the floor, your eyes squeeze shut for a moment, and a quiet plea leaves your lips, “Please, Peter. Get up, get up.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes when you open them back up, and you wish you didn’t. Peter is still on the floor lying face down as Vulture laughs, walking towards Peter. The urge to shout after him almost escapes your lips before you realize your surroundings, your words stuck in your throat.

With the crowd now clear behind you, you feel isolated. Your focus is entirely on Peter, your eyes never leaving his body. Peter is trying to push himself off the ground, but before he succeeds, Vulture plants his claw on his back, keeping him in place on the pavement under him. “No,” you couldn’t hold back the words from escaping this time. Jumping over the barricade, you barely make it another step forward before two police officers hold you back. “Get up! Please, Spider-Man,” you yell, catching both men’s attention.

“It looks like Spider-Man has a fan!” Vulture turns your head towards you, another full belly erupts from his stomach. You’re thrashing against the hold of the officers beside you while the others stand up straighter at the pivot of the bird’s attention, guns drawn.

You couldn’t care less for the outcome of your actions, you needed Peter to be alright, and if this is what it takes. Then so be it.

The moment Vulture’s foot is lifted off of Peter’s back, you take a breath before it’s stolen away from you again. He’s starting to walk towards you, his eyes trained on you as he approaches. The police begin to fire. The bullets don’t penetrate the metal suit, instead, they fall at his feet.

“You have balls, I’ll admit. But you are incredibly stupid, sweetie,” the officers who were once at your side are now shoved to the ground before he reaches for your throat. His grip tightens when he lifts you off the ground, bringing you to where Peter lies. You’re trying to pry his claws off of you, but in response he squeezes tighter, drawing blood from the sharpened talons of his gloves.

He examines your face before throwing you on the floor next to Peter, landing on your back. You cough before turning to face your boyfriend’s masked face. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. Reaching up to your throat, you touch the indents on your neck. They’re not too deep, but the blood rushing down your neck makes you lightheaded. And when you glance at your fingers, you sigh when you see red.

Your eyes flutter, oh shit. You bring your hand back to your neck, applying pressure like Peter taught. “Baby–Baby, hey,” he says your name before groaning as he pushes himself closer to you, “you gotta stay awake, okay?”

You barely nod, as you wince at the pain, the adrenaline leaving your system; leaving you with the reality of your injuries. “Do you know her, Spidey? No wait,” he pauses, putting the pieces together, “That’s your lady, isn’t it?”

Fuck. He’s figured you out. You groan loudly, “Wow, captain obvious. Do you have anything else you want to share? Maybe the sky is blue?” You laugh at yourself, the signs of blood loss showing. Turning your head towards Peter again, you smile, “Kick his ass, Pete.”

A second wind comes to Peter when he hears your backtalk towards Vulture. A little reminder that you could very well handle yourself, but the sight of your blood appearing on your hands lit a flame of anger within him. He pushes himself up with haste, he turns to look at you one more time, “Don’t close those eyes!” And in response, you wave your other hand at him.

He makes sure to push the fight far away from you, his senses throwing him into overdrive as he focuses on your heartbeat while throwing punches. If you were willing to throw yourself into a fight defenseless for him, Peter knew he was guaranteed to defend you from death’s grasp.

✯✯✯

You could’ve sworn you only blinked, but the change in scenery caused a wave of confusion to flood your senses. You were in a hospital room, and the smell of the sterile atmosphere along with the cold white lights above you made your head spin. But still, you take a deep breath as you look around. Your body relaxes at the sight of Peter leaning into his hand, his body awkwardly sitting as he sleeps.

There is a dryness in your throat that makes you wince, you try to clear your throat to call out to Peter, but what comes out is a pathetic-sounding wheeze of air. You rasp, “Peter.” Repeating yourself for the second time, his eyes fly open, his heightened senses picking up on your call for him.

He rushes to your side, grabbing your hand softly as he looks down at you, a look of worry apparent in his eyes. You can see his gaze flicker down to your neck, and as you reach up to touch it, he speaks, “I brought you here right after I finished with Vulture. That was about 2 days ago, bug.” He sniffles, he’s trying to hide his emotions as he’s holding back tears. “There was just,” he pauses, his throat tightens, “there was so much blood.”

Your heart breaks at the sight of him in front of you. He won’t let go of your hand as he breaks down in tears. You push yourself to the other side of the small bed, leaving a space for Peter to join you. Tugging on his hand, you clear your throat again, hoping that this attempt at talking is more successful than the last time. “Pete,” your hoarse voice cracks to life, “lay with me. Please.”

He carefully lays down beside you, making the already small hospital bed feel even tighter. His cheek was squished against your shoulder while his arms snaked around your torso. You both needed this after the week you’ve experienced. Peter thought he was going to lose you, and you know that pain. So having the roles reversed pulled at your heartstrings.

A part of you felt guilty. You were the one that gave Peter a reason to worry. Maybe he just needed another moment to get up during the fight. You couldn’t help but think that you were reckless; just another burden for Peter to carry, especially when you throw yourself into danger like that. While laying in bed with him, you nuzzle into him a little more, trying to hide the tears that are threatening to spill past your lash line.

How could I be so stupid?

Your ear can hear the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat. The pattern somehow makes your guilt feel worse. Maybe it’s because of your uneven breathing, or maybe the wetness on Peter’s shirt, but he pulls his head back, craning it down at you. And when he sees you trying to conceal your quiet sobs, his hands are immediately on the sides of your face.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” you cry, “I’m an idiot for running to you like that. I made everything ten times worse!” You’re hysterical. You can’t stop the tears that rush down your cheeks, landing into Peter’s palms.

You made Peter’s biggest fear come true.

And for that, you couldn’t apologize enough. “Hey, hey, hey,” he gently says your name, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. He tries to pull you back to reality, grounding you in any way he can. His eyes are searching for yours behind your tears. “Baby,” he starts, “you’re incredibly selfless, I knew that since the moment I met you. You would go to the ends of the earth for a stranger if you could. That’s just who you are, and I’d be evil to ask you to change that about you.”

You were able to take a breath, trying to calm yourself down. Peter’s kind words eased your overthinking, causing a wave of embarrassment to wash over you. You felt stupid for an entirely different reason. You knew that Peter would never be too angry at you for doing what you thought was best for him, but it still affected you in an unfathomable way. “I love you,” you wipe your damp eyes before looking into his.

Peter grins before pressing a smiley kiss into your lips. You take a deep breath as your lips meet, a wave of euphoria floods your senses. If there was one thing Peter could do, it was make you feel like a teenage girl all over again. He filled your stomach with butterflies every time he kissed you.

Pulling away, you smile back at him. “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of this stupid cramped bed,” you look around, “and while we’re at it, I hate hospitals.” Peter laughs at your sudden discomfort with the surroundings. “Wait,” you pause, looking at him, “did you take me here in your suit?”

“Is that really what you want to know right now? Not how I absolutely destroyed Vulture?”

“Mmm, no,” you laugh.

He shakes his head at you, giggling, “Yeah, I brought you here in my suit. Figured it was faster than an ambulance.” Your eyes are moving, as you piece together the story before groaning. Peter’s extremely confused at the sounds coming out of your mouth, he playfully shoves your shoulder, “What’s wrong now?”

You sigh, “I wish I could’ve seen everyone’s faces when Spider-Man carried a girl bleeding from her neck in here.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffs. He lifts himself off the bed, not before you stop him, a pouty look on your face. “Didn’t you say you wanted to get out of here,” he lowers his head to whisper in your ear, “I think we have like ten minutes before someone will notice you’re missing.” Peter grabs your clothes, and tosses it to you, “Let’s get you home, bug.”

✮ author's note: hi all!!! just a little hurt/comfort to spice up your tuesday night! i had a blast writing this because im a sucker for hurt/comfort and angst:p. thank you to the lovely 🎀 anon for this request! my asks/inbox is open!! don't forget to like, comment, and reblog if you see something you like.

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #fluff #marvel #andrew garfield peter parker #peter parker #tasm!peter parker #spiderman #peter parker hurt/comfort #peter parker angst

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lucky-bucky-boy · 1 year

Text

Restless Night

Pairing: MCU!Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: An impulsive phone call leads to a happy ending

Word Count: 1307

Warnings: Slight angst, smut, pet names, little to no (y/n), mentions of missions, lemme know if i missed anything

A/N: MCU!Peter - I do plan to write something for TASM!Peter in the future but this was just easier for my brain to set up the scene. I wanted to do something different and challenged myself to write something that was more dialogue-heavy than I’ve written in a while. Not my best work, but a little smutty smut bc why not

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed and highly appreciated!

The soft sound of the television playing a forgotten movie almost drowned out the sound of the phone ringing, tucked under a pillow and muffled. The sweet cusp of sleep was only moments away, being dragged out by the vibrating as the first call ended and a second came through.

The near unconsciousness caused forethought to be left behind, grabbing the phone, answering the call, and putting it to your ear. A soft "hello?" was all you could muster.

"Hey, baby."

A tsunami of emotions flooded through your body, suddenly wide awake and hyper aware of everything that was going on; The television was nearing the end of the movie you had put on, your clock reading 1:32, the lights from the cars passing by casting various dancing shadows around your room.

"I've missed you, baby."

His voice was sweet, almost addictive and something you hadn't realized was a need buried deep inside you. You shuffled, forcing yourself up and sitting against the squishmallow he'd won for you on your first time, something you hadn't been able to get rid of.

"Hi, Peter," you voice was quiet, sleep still etched between the syllables. There was a beat of silence between the two of you, "Peter, why'd you call? It's been 10 months."

Peter let out a soft sigh, you could hear him shuffling around. "Missing you really bad tonight, love. M' on a mission," there was another sigh, "I almost got hurt, like really hurt. Thankfully Bucky was there. All I could think about was you."

"Peter!" You voice was now much louder, instantly filled with worry, "Don't go and get yourself ki-"

He cut you off, "I wasn't tryna get hurt, baby. We got ambushed. We had just went in there for me to copy some information onto a drive. Ended up being some rogue Hydra agents, a leg of them we didn't even know existed." Peter was rambling and he knew it, he was starting to think the reason he called was a bad one.

You sighed, body riddled with a million different emotions, "Pete, why'd you call me?"

"I miss you," his words had a slight whine to them, "I wanna touch you so badly, wanna hold you and kiss you."

If he was there you would have undoubtedly melted into him. The breakup was mutual, but difficult nonetheless. Between trying to focus on your career and all of the responsibilities Peter had, it was near impossible to maintain a relationship - there was no time for date nights or dinner, no time to sit and reminisce and talk about the future. For months, the only time spent together was sleeping in the same bed, which was almost always disrupted by some responsibility.

You two loved each other, loved each other more than yourselves most days. But it had become too taxing and tiring, the constant worrying, near lack of support because attention was needed elsewhere. So, after a long, tearful date night gone wrong, the two of you agreed to break up, maybe try again when there were less things counting on you both.

Peter regretted it immediately, but he had wanted to give you space, give you time to flourish and not worry about him. He'd asked M.J. and Ned all the time what you had been up to, he would check your Instagram and Snapchat to see the things you were posting and proud of. He did whatever he could to support you from afar.

But tonight, tonight he dared to be selfish, he needed to be selfish. Deep down he knew it was wrong, calling you up in the middle of the night because the adrenaline was still pumping through his veins and all he wanted was to be with you.

"I miss you too, Pete." Your voice was soft again, it always was in moments like this. Where the intimacy lay just behind every fiber in your body.

He hummed, starting to get antsy as he continued to try to figure out how to say what he wanted. "Baby, can you do me a favor?"

"What is it, Pete?" You almost hated how quickly you answered, how eager you were.

"Touch yourself, sweetheart. I wanna hear you touch yourself."

The gasp that left you was audible. Peter was never incredibly bold, never the type to initiate unless you two were definitely alone. Even in those moments, it was always sweet and loving. But this, Peter calling in the middle of the night, a desperate whine to his words and an insane neediness that make his tone demanding.

“Baby, if you don’t want to, you can just hang up. I won’t be upset with you.” You could hear some ruffling and the sound of metal hitting the floor. “I just miss the pretty sounds you make, miss the way your face scrunches up, miss the feeling of your skin against mine.”

This wasn’t a command you were going to disobey. He was still rambling, your mind only half paying attention to the honey-like words he was saying. “Do you want me to use my hand or one of my toys?”

He paused for a moment and you could practically hear the smile spread across his lips. “Use your hand, sweetheart. Run you hands across your body like I would.”

You could hear the moment Peter wrapped his hand around himself, a small groan leaving his lips. You listened to him, it being nearly impossible not to. "Wish you were here, Petey," the words slipped out of you as your fingers danced across your skin, sending goosebumps in their wake.

Your eyes were pinched shut, listening to every whimper and sigh the came through your phone, doing your best to pretend your own touch was his. "Me too, God, me too. Miss kissing your skin, hearing your little gasps when I nip."

"Peter," you couldn't help but whimper, forgoing anymore teasing and quickly giving your clit the much needed attention. It never took long with Peter for you to become needy and impatient, let alone when it had been almost a year since you heard the noises he was making, "I'm not gonna last long, want you so badly," your words were gasped out between soft moans, instant pleasure radiating from your core already making your body warm.

"Me neither, baby," there was a low groan that slipped from him, strangled as he attempted to hold himself together. With every sound you made, he nearly felt like he was in a dream. But he knew this was real, his subconscious hyper aware of the thin walls in the shitty hotel he was holed up in for the night and the super soldier who undoubtedly could hear him.

A endless stream of "fuck"s, gasps, moans, and whimpers flooded through each phone. It only took a few more minutes before the coil burst and the warmth of your high shook through your body, thighs quaking and chest heaving. Peter followed suit, a breathy moan of your name as he spilled into his hand and all over his abdomen.

There was a lingering silence as the other of you recovered, both taking in what has just happened while relishing in the aftermath. Peter broke the silence first, "Need to get m'self cleaned up," he mumbled. There was another beat of silence from him, "I do really miss you."

You hummed your agreement, shifting yourself into a more comfortable position. "I do really wish you were here."

He huffed out a small laugh, a sound that was laced with relief and contentedness. "I'll be home tomorrow at 4. I still got my key, I'll bring dinner, and we can talk. How does that sound?"

Now it was your turn to laugh, excitement filling every nerve in your body. "It sounds like a date."

#smut #peter parker #peter parker smut #mcu!peter parker #mcu!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter smut #mcu!peter smut #spiderman x reader #spiderman smut #peter parker one shot

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sincericida · 9 months

Text

ANDREW GARFIELD practicing stunts for "The Amazing Spider-Man" (2012, dir. Mark Webb) is so stimulating! Shake off Sony's hard drive!

Andrew and his commitment and love for the character and his story is so touching 🥺

(source)

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spidernerdsblog · 2 years

Text

Kiss me more

A/N : This is my rendition of the chocolate house scene in tasm. Hope you like this. Let me know what you think.

Summary : your dad is the chief of NYPD and isn't fond of your boyfriend's secret alias spiderman but that doesn't stop him from sneaking into your room at night for a few kisses and a little more.

Pairing : tasm! Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings : 18+, SMUT, minors DNI, 69 (m & f receiving)

Sitting on your desk you’re working on your college assignment when a tap on your window grabs your attention. You look to find none other than your boyfriend as he slides up the window and steps inside your room.

“Hey.” he gives you that sweet smile.

“What are you doing here?” you hiss.

“I really missed you, baby.” he pouts out his lower lip.

“You saw me in class today.” you give him a bored look.

“That was hours ago.”

“Dad's home. You can't stay.” you inform in a hushed tone.

“C’mon Y/N don’t send me away like this.” he says, giving you his best puppy dog eyes and you give in.

“Ugh OK but you gotta be quiet.”

“Quiet as a church mouse,” he says. “I don't understand why your dad hates me though?”

“He doesn't hate you.” you assure him cradling his face in your hands. “He just doesn’t like Spiderman but after the speech you gave at last week's dinner I'm not so sure either.”

“I'm just making the lives of the NYPD cops easier.” he huffs.

“Yeah, tell that to my dad because he thinks you need psychiatric attention.” you snicker.

“The only attention I need right now is from my girlfriend.” his hands circle around your waist pulling you flush against his body and dips his head to kiss you. Heat unfurls inside your body as your tongues collide. You liked kissing him, it felt so intimate as if you could touch each other’s soul and feel the love for each other you have.

“I fucking love kissing you.” he whispers as if reading your thoughts and slowly backs you to your desk. His lips are hot against yours as arousal builds inside your stomach. Your hands try to grasp on the edge of the desk instead your elbow hits the stack of books knocking them off the desk with a loud crash.

“Y/N?! What’s that noise?” you hear your dad followed by footsteps coming up the stairs.

“Shit hide!” your eyes go wide in panic pushing him away. Peter quickly hides behind the stuffed armchair while you open the door with a smile trying to act normal. “Hey dad!”

“Everything alright honey? I heard some noise.”

“Yeah, yeah I just stubbed my toe on the desk and the books fell down.” you tell him.

“You should be more careful, Y/N.” Your dad’s voice is full of concern.

“It’s nothing really.” you assure him.

“Do you want me to make you some coco?” Since childhood whenever you didn’t feel good a cup of coco made by your father cured everything for you. But that’s not what you need right now.

“Dad, I'm 21 years old. I do not need coco because I hurt my toe.”

“Ok…” he eyes you skeptically. “I thought I remembered somebody saying the other day that her fantasy was to live in a chocolate house.”

Your face flames in embarrassment clearly aware that Peter is listening.“Daaad!” you groan “I’m fine. You go enjoy watching the football match.”

“Ok, ok…” your dad laughs. “Goodnight sweetheart. Don’t stay up all night studying.”

“Goodnight daddy.” You shut the door quickly turning the lock and turn around to find Peter splayed on your bed grinning.

“Chocolate house?” you shrug nonchalantly and he chuckles. “That's a very cute fantasy.”

“Yeah, yeah now shut up.” you huff rolling your eyes.

“Make me.” Mischief dances in his eyes.

“Is that a challenge?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“Maybe.” He lifts a shoulder casually.

“Well then I got some ideas.” you smirk climbing on the bed beside him to take things off where you had left as you lean on molding your lips with his. Your hands explore his body slowly inching the hem of his shirt to expose the defined abs. You drag your mouth down his throat and place a kiss in the middle of his chest.

He shudders in anticipation as you trail your lips down to the V that disappears into the waistband of his jeans. He’s painfully hard, the huge bulge giving it away. You rub him over his jeans teasingly and he moans.

“You gotta be quiet, bug boy.” you smile wickedly and halt your ministrations. “Or else I’ll stop.”

“No, please don’t stop. I’ll be quiet I promise.” he croaks.

You pull his zipper down.

His chocolate brown grows a shade darker, he lifts his hips for you to slide his jeans and boxers down.

Your mouth waters when his dick springs free, long and thick leaking with precum. Your clit throbs as you rub your thighs together wanting nothing but to rip your clothes off and ride him to oblivion. You wrap your fingers around the base giving him a slow, teasing stroke and he chokes out a curse.

Lowering your mouth you glide your tongue along his shaft. His fingers tangle in your hair as you squeeze the base of his cock with your hand and flick your tongue through his slit tasting the salty precum.

Peter's brain short circuits, hips thrusting upward as he swallows a groan but a harsh breath still manages to escape from him. You look up to him loving the effect you have on him.

“I’m trying.” he grits through his teeth and you smile, sucking the tip. He watches you slowly take every inch of him until your nose grazes his pelvis. You ease back up, your hand working him in tandem with your mouth.

Pleasure rises up his spine as you swallow him whole with every downward stroke. Peter feels like he might blow out any second and he doesn’t want it to end so soon. He grips your hair and tugs your head up. “Sit on my face.”

“What?”

“I want to taste you too.” he rasps.

A fresh wave of arousal pools between your legs at his words but you were still a little unsure as you’ve never done this whole 69ing thing before. “You sure?”

“Yeah I always wanted to try this.”

You were quick to discard your panties and turn around to straddle his face. Your dress bunched at your waist as Peter holds your thighs spreading you wide. The first swipe of his tongue draws a strangled noise out of you.

“Quiet baby” he taunts before giving a long, languid lick from your dripping hole to your clit. You retaliate by taking him in your mouth and it's his time to make noise.

“Oh my god.” he groans against your pussy. “We’re never gonna make it through this.”

Your soft laughter sends vibrations down his shaft. His hips thrust up involuntarily, his tip hitting the back of your throat making you yelp.

“Sorry.” he mumbles.

“It’s ok.” you say and he turns his attention back to eating you out. His hands knead the soft mounds of your ass as his tongue pumps in and out of you. The sweet taste of you on his tongue and your warm mouth on his cock giving him a sensory overload. He circles his tongue on your swollen clit and you whimper, grinding harder on his face.

Peter chuckles at your eagerness until you run your tongue over the pulsing vein underside his cock and all his laughter dies down. His balls tighten, release simmering to the surface. “You close?”

“Almost.” you say a little out of breath.

Peter wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard. You squirm above him as he pushes two thick digits inside you. You’re so wet and tight that it takes all his willpower not to bust a nut then and there.

“C’mon babe,” he curls his fingers, hitting that sweet spot inside you. “Don’t make me come alone.” you moan quietly, rocking your hips.

“That’s it.” he coaxes.

You suck him harder as your walls clench around his fingers. Pleasure soars inside you as your release floods his mouth which makes him explode into your mouth.

You get off him to lie down beside him. “That was fun.”

“Yeah we should do that again.” he agrees, his arms coming to wrap around you as you snuggle in his warmth.

“Y/N”

You both freeze at your father’s deep voice. Even though you locked the door you feel like your dad could see through the door as you and Peter lay half naked on your bed.

You clear your throat gathering yourself. “Ye-yes dad?”

“Tell Parker to use the front door next time or he’ll have to pay for any damages to the drainage pipes.”

..................................................................................

Reblogs are appreciated ❤️

#peter parker #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker smut #tasm! peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield #andrew garfield smut #andrew garfield x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker x you

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mydearesthrry · 10 months

Text

mydearesthrry masterlist ❥

hi bffs!! im jules and welcome to my masterlist <3 i write for harry styles and tasm/mcu peter parker and range from different aus! my requests and asks are always open unless stated otherwise, so feel free to send in anything here!

if you do choose to request something please do keep in mind the normal restrictions, and if u want something specific feel free to specify! all my work has been written from july 23’-present!!

{tags for fic recs: faves under holy grail • harry styles under h fic rec, h nsfw • charles leclerc & lando norris under 16 & 4 respectively • peter parker under peter <3}

**i do not condone any reposting of my work!!** if any links r broken shoot me a message or an ask and ill fix it asap!!

please enjoy my work, i love u and thank u thank u thank u sm for supporting me <3

—————

❥ - denotes fluff

✮ - denotes angst

✿ - denotes smut

✧ - reader favorites (over 600+ notes)

—————

harry styles <3

— oneshots —

trinkets on tour ❥✧

↬ in which you collect things from all of the tour stops, and harry loves you. (1.3k words)

harry’s house home ❥✮✧

↬ you miss harry, and he misses you even more. (2.1k) [1k+ notes]

obvious ❥✧

↬ when harry just can’t understand what you’re talking about, and he’s also your husband? (1.1k)

behind the scenes: daylight ❥

↬ a first date, a circus, and a horse named honey. (2.2k)

a compilation of ynrry on stage ❥

↬ y/n and harry are both in the band one direction, and although they aren’t allowed to publicize their relationship, their love shines through on stage in the tiniest moments. (1.2k)

sweet nothing ❥✧

↬ a very sleepy harry in an ice bath. (1.6k) [1k+, personal fave!]

love in secret ❥✧

↬ 5 times when y/n and harry just understood each other. (5.9k, check cw!) [1.5k+, author and reader favorite!!!]

a mutual understanding ✿

↬ y/n just cant stand harry, and he loves a chase. (2.6k, check warnings!)

hayday, braids, and chocolate ❥✧

↬ a lazy sunday at home with harry. (1.1k)

right back home to you ❥✮

↬ y/n trying to be cool about it (and failing)! (4.8k, check warnings)

— blurbs (<900) —

spill or fill your guts ❥✧

cloud watching ❥

sweetener (the zane lowe interview) part 1 ❥

the end ❥✧

forever ❥✧

honeyed bliss ❥✧

debriefing ❥✧

dynamic ❥

baby ❥✧

book (lovers)

— concepts —

new!gf Y/N seeing the ‘olivia’ tat for the first time <900

new!gf Y/N getting jealous at a party with fbh >1k

body shots with fbh <900

universes (h.s.)

honeyed moments

☀︎︎ a collection of home videos and moments of the styles family. [husbandrry, dadrry]

. . . .

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles x fem!reader

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parkerpeter24 · 5 months

Note

Hi sweetie! if you're taking requests I would like to request an imagine. The subway scene in TASM where Peter's hand gets stuck with a girl's shirt and it rips off 😂, similarly with MCU! Peter in his room the same thing happens with the reader? It's up to you if they are dating or bff. It's totally okay if you don't feel like writing it. Have a great day ☺️

love the idea! the ending’s bad, bye 😭

pairing ➳ peter parker x reader.

masterlist

peter was not at his own house– which he often wasn’t. so you didn’t care. may was trying to make shepherd’s pie for dinner and you could hear the simmering of oil and the chopping board being used.

peter’s bed was nice and warm. plus it smelled like him. you scrolled through your phone to pass the time until he was finally home.

suddenly you heard clattering from the kitchen, making you jump into action as you rushed to see what had happened.

“is everything okay?” you asked peter’s aunt.

she sighed, picking up a few utensils that had fallen down, “just a mishap, sweetie.”

“um, can i help?” you didn’t wait for a reply as you helped her pick up the scattered pots, placing them back in the small cupboard under the stove.

“can you get me the frozen peas from the refrigerator?” she asked kindly as she continued to stirr whatever was in the pan, “i think it needs a few more veggies.”

you followed her orders and soon enough you ended up with something that didn’t feel like tasting, “um... are we sure that-”

“we’ve followed the right recipe, it’s going to be alright.” she gave you a smile, “why don’t you go see if peter’s back, and we can have dinner.”

you nodded and quickly made your way to his room, with the purpose to warn him or what was about to come. the first thing you noticed when you entered his room was peter falling to the ground, just in his boxers.

you gasped, rushing over to your boyfriend and kneeling down, “peter, what happened? are you alright?”

he groaned and shuffled to sit up on the floor, “it was a hard day... at the stark internship.” he leaned his head against your neck.

“why are you um... not wearing anything?” you voiced your concern, feeling bad for the poor boy. he looked so tired.

neither you or may were a big fan of tony stark anymore. he had your favorite boy tired all the time.

“was trying to change.” he sighed, sitting back against the bed.

“you know what me and may ruined today? shepherd’s pie.”

he chuckled, shaking his head as he took a moment to gather himself, then got up. you got up with him, letting him place an arm around your shoulders as you walked him to his closet.

the second he tried to pull back his hand, you felt your t-shirt go slide down your shoulder. your eyes widened slightly, trying to pull the sleeve back up but it was as if peter’s hand was stuck to it.

he tugged again gently, seemingly panicking the same as you, “i’m sorry i...” you felt yourself being pulled towards him everytime he tried to take his hand off, “i’m so sorry.”

you just watched him trying to pull his hand back but nothing was happening. he groaned slightly and pulled back his hand harshly, sending a ripping sound resonating throughout the room.

you gasped, trying to cover yourself up as you were left in just your bra, the torn material of your t-shirt just stuck to his hand, “oh my god!” your arms crossed over your chest, hugging yourself as peter turned red.

he put his hand– which was stuck to your t-shirt– to his eyes, feeling his whole face warm up, “i’m sorry- i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to!” his voice was an octave higher as he continued to apologise.

“dinner’s getting-” you turned around to look at may and quickly rushed to hide behind peter as a yelp left your mouth.

peter looked at his aunt, only turning a brighter shade of pink as he understood what it must look like to a third person. he was standing in just his boxers and you– with your t-shirt stuck to his hands, “may, it’s not what it looks like-”

“you guys use protection.” she waved her finger at you two before closing the door after herself.

a smack landed peter’s head and he looked around, “ow!”

“don’t look at me!”

peter blushed even more as he turned away, letting you dig into his closet. you put on one of his t-shirts before facing him, “you’re shameless, aren’t you?”

“what did i do!?” he whined, “you can look at me in my boxers, but i can’t see your bra?”

you felt your face warm up, giving him a stern look, “i didn’t choose to strip out of my clothes here.”

“right.” peter sighed, “i’m sorry this happened, i’m just stressed...”

“peter.” you held his face gently, “there are ways other than sex to deal with stress.”

his eyebrows pulled together, “what? this has nothing to do with sex!”

you titled your head the slightest, “you don’t wanna have sex with me?”

“no!” his eyes widened when he watched your face drop, “i mean yes! i-i do. obviously, i do. when the time is right...”

“then why did you rip my t-shirt?” you looked confused and peter didn’t know where to run to.

“it happened, accidentally.” he sighed, trying to wave his hand around to let the piece of fabric go. it finally fell to the floor, “can we just stop talking about this now?”

“okay... put on some clothes and let’s go eat that shepherd’s die- i mean pie.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #mcu #mcu spiderman #mcu peter parker

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likedovesinthewindd · 1 year

Text

2:54 AM

tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

summary: you want to know why peter's been distant lately.

warning: injuries, mentions of typical spiderman violence yk, my inability to write a crime accurately (don't look into it too much), reader's a little oblivious to the obvious.

wc: ± 3000

a/n: i hate this endingg!!!! but i need this out of my drafts. let's also pretend that this trope is so original and not overused at all lmao. requests open:)

The incessant ticking of the clock above your head was beginning to piss you off.

The small restaurant was fairly busy, no one would've even be able to hear it, but you'd chosen the table next to the window–the one with the clock hanging on the wall adjacent to the big glass pane. You'd chosen this table because it was Peter's favorite. He loved watching the bustling city outside as the two of you enjoyed your meals.

You'd think that after living in the city as long as he has, that the scenery would have bore him by now, but he absolutely loved people watching. He could spend hours sitting outside on the rooftop or by the big window in your bedroom, just staring down at the people and cars going about their day or night. He could find entertainment in some of the most mundane activities, and that was one of the many things you adored about your boyfriend.

Right now, however, it was hard to think of how you much you adored him, but rather how mad you were at him. Tonight was your and Peter's six month anniversary, and although you weren't one to celebrate every little milestone, Peter had insisted that you go out for the night. Ironic, since he's not even here right now you thought.

You looked down at your wristwatch, almost in a way to spite the big one that hung right above you, and checked the time. It was a forty-eight minutes past eight. You'd been sitting here for almost 50 minutes waiting for Peter to show up.

You checked your phone, praying he had left a message saying that he was on his way, that he was just running late, but the empty lockscreen staring back at you only made a knot form deep in your belly.

Wait till nine, your mind tried convincing you. He's probably just really caught up at work. So you waited impatiently, your heeled foot nearly tapping a hole into the restaurant floor. After a few more minutes, your waitress approached your table. This was her second time at your table; she had come around first at around twenty minutes past eight, and you had kindly asked her to give you some more time, because you were waiting for someone.

You could see the pity on her face, her probably thinking you got stood up. But you weren't getting stood up, because Peter was just a bit late, and in a few minutes he'd walk through the door and the two of you'd enjoy a wonderful dinner. At least, that's what you were trying to convince yourself.

"Are you ready to order ma'am?" the waitress asked politely. You shook your head, putting on your most convincing smile. "No not yet, I'm waiting for my boyfriend, he'll be here any minute," you said. The pity on her face only seemed to increase. She gave you a weak smile and a nod, and went on her way to help another table.

You glanced up at the small TV that was displayed against the wall on the other side of the small restaurant. It was replaying an old football game from the previous week, before being interrupted by a local news channel's lives broadcast. The TV was muted, but you could see the headline at the bottom of the screen in big bold letters as the reporter stood gesturing at the scene behind her:

SPIDER-MAN TO THE RESCUE ONCE AGAIN

The fact that the city quite literally had it's own superhero always amazed you. Here this random guy was, jumping around in a blue and red suit, fighting bad guys and catching criminals, basically doing the cops' jobs and for free.

You've never had any personal encounters with the elusive hero, but you've heard enough stories from people about him, about how charming and slightly cocky he was and how they so desperately wanted to know who hid beneath the mask. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a bit curious to know too.

On the screen you could see Spider-Man lowering people from the second floor of some building by his webs. After lowering everyone to safety, he dissappeared back inside the building. It seemed to be some kind of hostage situation, people scurrying around confusedly and police cars surrounding the building.

You were so enthralled by the scene playing out on the screen that you hadn't noticed how much time had passed. When you looked at the little clock being displayed in the corner of the TV, your heart sank once again.

21:05

It was five minutes past nine, and no Peter in sight. You could feel your cheeks burning up from anger. A whole hour. Peter made you wait a whole hour, and it didn't look like he was gonna come any time soon. The anger was quickly replaced by sadness, the tears of frustration already fighting to fall from your eyes. You made your way over to the counter of the restaurant, apologizing for wasting their time and tipping your waitress for her effort, before making your way to the door.

It felt like everyone's eyes were on you. They could all probably tell you've been stood up too. There was no other reason for a girl to be walking out of a restaurant after ordering nothing for an hour with her head down and tail between her legs like a kicked dog.

The air outside was refreshing. You took a deep breath, trying to calm down your racing heart and somehow will the tears away. It was no use; after months of forced stoicism and pretending like Peter's recent negligence didn't hurt, the dam finally broke. You decided to take the walk to your apartment rather than hailing a cab, reasoning that the cool city air would do you good.

On your walk, the sobs continued to leave your mouth quietly. You missed your boyfriend, you missed being able to spend time with him and just be around him. The two of you worked at different times and lived on different sides of the city, so it was already hard to find a time when both of you were free.

The two of you hadn't been together for too long, but it truly felt like Peter was the one for you. When you first made things official you couldn't stay away from each other for too long. You always went on little dates and would meet up whenever the both of you were free, but recently your boyfriend's been very distant and you've been seeing less and less of him. Tonight had been the third date where he'd stood you up, and you couldn't help but think the worst.

What if he was seeing someone else? What if he didn't enjoy being with me anymore and this was his way of asking to break up?

The thoughts left your mind as soon as they were conjured up in your brain. Peter would never do anything like that to you. Not your Peter. He was the sweetest guy you had ever been with and there wasn't a day he wasn't telling you how lucky he was to be with you, or how pretty he thought you were and how much he loved you.

Even on the days the two of you weren't together (which were almost always lately), he'd still send you messages telling you how much he missed you, or would send flowers to your apartment when he knew you were feeling down and he couldn't be there.

Peter was a sweetheart, but you still couldn't help but wonder why he'd been so distant lately. You pulled your phone from your purse, quickly checking to see if he had left a message yet, but still nothing. You shoved your phone back into your purse angrily and started walking faster. All you needed right now was a hot shower and your bed.

As you entered your apartment you hastily toed off your shoes at the door and threw your purse on the nearest table. After a long, piping hot shower and a bowl of leftovers (you still being hungry due to your failed dinner plans), you decided to head to bed, where you cried some more before falling asleep.

A loud banging woke you up in the middle of the night. You checked the alarm clock on your nightstand, and when it read 2:54 AM, you turned yourself back around and ignored whoever chose to bother you at this ungodly hour.

Not even a minute passed before the knocking returned, this time followed by a shout of your name, not loud enough to wake up the whole floor but loud enough for you to hear. When you recognized Peter's voice, you groaned, kicking the covers from yourself begrudgingly before dragging yourself to the door.

You pulled it open aggressively, and when you were met with Peter's silhouette slouching against the doorframe, his head hanging low, all the angry words you had for him sat stuck in your throat. He looked up at you and his big brown eyes found yours in the dark of the hallway. He gave you a weak smile and you had to fight everything inside you to not smile back, reminding yourself why you were mad at him.

"Hi, sweetheart," he whispered. All the anger suddenly returned, and you found yourself slamming the door in his face, but before it could fully close, he blocked it with his foot and invited himself in. When he got out of the dark hallways and inside your apartment, you noticed the bouquet of flowers he held tightly in his hand. They looked like they had been through a lot, and the dress shirt he was wearing (most likely for your date) was untucked and heavily wrinkled.

"I don't want to talk to you," you said, turning your entire body away from him and crossing your arms like an arrogant child, trying to get him to leave, but he was stubborn, putting the flowers on the nearest table, gripping your arms and turning you to face him again. You refused to make eye contact, rather looking down at his pair of dirty sneakers. "I know, but let me explain myself please—"

"And say what?!" you snapped. You hadn't realized how loud you were until you saw Peter flinch slightly, his grip on you still not loosening. "What are you gonna say Peter? You got caught up at work? You had an 'emergency'? You—" when you finally looked him in the face, you got a good look at him in the warm light of your living room/kitchen.

He had a lot of bruising around his face, a rapidly darkening black eye and a busted lip. You looked down at the arms still holding onto you, and you could see similar marks lining his arms. Most of them looked very fresh.

This was another part of Peter that added to up sleepless nights, worrying yourself sick over your boyfriend. He always seemed to have some sort of bruise whenever you'd meet up. Sometimes it was something small like a cut across his eyebrow or a nasty gash on his cheek, and other times it was way more major, like the one time he showed up to a coffee date with a broken arm after being just fine three days prior.

The best part was how fast he'd heal too, no less than a weak and he'd look perfectly fine. It didn't make you feel any better though, and you'd still worry about where he was getting beat up like this.

You tried asking him about it, multiple times, but every time he would just cover it up with a lame joke or just completely try to change the subject. You stopped asking after a while, but that didn't mean you weren't concerned about his safety and curious about what was causing all of these injuries.

"Peter what happened to you? Your face? Are you—" you wanted to reach out and touch his face, but he stopped you with a hand that quickly caught your wrist. "I'm okay," he said, smiling sweetly and giving your wrist a quick kiss, before letting go of your hand. "No you're not. C'mon lemme clean you up," you said grabbing his hand and dragging him to the bathroom, almost completely forgetting about the argument.

The patter of your socked feet filled the quiet of the apartment as you led Peter to the bathroom. You sat him down on the toilet seat and quietly moved around the almost-too-small bathroom, opening up the medicine cabinet above the sink to retrieve the first aid kit. You started to clean the small cuts and gashes on his face.

His hands hesitated before making their way to your waist, holding onto your hips. Every time one of the cuts would sting, his grip would tighten slightly. The silence stretched on while you continued to patch him up, and after a while you decided to speak up.

"Look, Peter, I understand if you don't wanna, y'know be with me anymore, but even if we were to break up I'd still be concerned about you. I don't like seeing you get hurt and i can't help if—"

"Woah, hey what?" Peter interrupted your rambling, "I don't want to break up." "Then why do you keep canceling our plans, how come I never see you anymore?" you asked, pausing the work on his face. He winced slighty when he noticed your anger had returned.

"I've just...I've been busy, sweetheart," he said softly. "I've been busy too Peter, but I make time, because I wanna see you, and because I miss you like crazy. Do you even miss like you say you do? Because it surely doesn't show."

"Of course I do!" Peter said, the grip he had on you unconsciously tightening again. "Then why don't you make time?!" you said, the tears of frustration quickly returning to your eyes, "and what about all these bruises, huh? Every time I see you you're hurt somehow and I don't like that, 'cause I don't like seeing you hurt, Peter." By now a few tears had already unwillingly fallen, and you tried to swiftly wipe them away with the sleeve of your sweater.

It both warmed and broke Peter's heart to know that you were so worried about him. He really did miss spending time with you; you were his best friend and he loved being around you. He didn't want you knowing about him being Spider-Man, because he didn't want to put you in any danger. He wanted to keep you as far away from that part of his life as possible, you meant too much to him and he wouldn't forgive himself if anything happened to you.

He wanted to tell you on many occasions, he'd come close too many times to count, but he'd stop himself each time.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, not knowing what else to say. "Don't apologize, just talk to me, please," you said brushing your fingers through his soft brown hair. The action calmed both you and him down, and he closed his eyes for a moment, appreciating your touch. It was then when he realized how much he missed your touch, how much he missed you, and being close to you. He felt like he hadn't talked to you, or really even seen you in forever.

Peter didn't know what to say, he wanted to be honest with you, wanted to tell you so bad, but he wanted to protect you above all else. The silence between the two of you stretched on until you sighed, removing your hands from him completely and sighing.

He started panicking, he knew what this meant. You were going to break up with him, tell him to get out and never talk to him again, and even the thought alone made his heart sink down to his feet. He braced himself for the inevitable, retracting his hands from your waist and getting ready to get up and leave.

"It's really late, would you like to stay the night?"

He was definitely not expecting you to say that, and the look on his face certainly told you that. "Are you sure?" he asked, not knowing what else to say. "I don't want to taking the train at this time. You can take a shower while I reheat some leftovers for you," you replied dryly, making your way out the bathroom and to the kitchen.

Peter took your advice, still not sure why you weren't screaming at him to get out of your apartment. After a brief shower, he found some of the clothes you had borrowed from him folded neatly on the toilet seat. He put them on and made his way over to the kitchen. After a much appreciated meal the two of you made your way over to your bedroom.

He found himself immediately moving towards the small plush chair that stood by the big window, lowering himself into it and staring down at the city. You stood next to him quietly, placing your hand on his head and running your fingers through the strands once again.

"I promise I'll tell you one day," Peter whispered, turning his head to look up at you. "I know," you replied, "until then, I'll just patch you up when needed."

You wanted so badly to understand what was going on with Peter, but you knew that there was no getting through to him now, because he was stubborn as hell. So you'd take what you could get for now. And in return he'd try and be there more for you, because he missed you, and the selfish part of him loved you too much to let you go, even if that were the right thing to do.

"How about you move in with me?"

#tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker fic #tasm!peter x y/n #the amazing spider man #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x reader #likedovesinthewindd

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blooming-violets · 1 year

Text

[tasm!peter x nameless she/her character]

Summary: Unrequited love, heartbreak, and fear of the unknown. Every relationship can be seen through two different sets of eyes. Peter has his own memories of his best friend, his own story to share, and his own mistakes to make. (10K words)

[The parallel fic to Dancing On My Own, please read that one first as this heavily weaves through the original story, some parts towards the end might not make complete sense without it]

Warnings: Gwen’s death is a key part of Peter’s later personality, angst, depression, losing of one’s sense of self, mild PTSD flashbacks, guilt and self hatred, familial physical and verbal abuse of a minor, descriptions of potentially disturbing rough sex scenes bordering on the line between abuse and consent at the hands of Peter, brief murderous intent of a woman during sex

[Dancing On My Own Spotify Playlist]

Second Grade: Over the Bar

There was something so enticing about the way she would throw her head back on the swings. Her hair would flow out behind her and catch in the wind. She would lean her entire body back with her legs out straight. Her eyes would close and her face would relax into a blissful serenity. She was flying. He knew that’s what she imagined inside her mind whenever she got on the swings. Flying away from everything that shackled her to the real world. Once she told him that when she got high enough, she was going to let go, and soar all the way to Norway to visit the trolls that lived there. He wasn’t sure if trolls were real or imaginary but she believed in them so that meant Peter did too. She always loved her fantasy stories and he never got tired of listening to her talk about them.

Peter was afraid of her flying off without him. He didn’t want her to leave him behind so he climbed onto the adjacent swing. He backed up and tried to match his swinging pace with hers. He longed to be right by her side as she flew but, every time, they’d fall out of sync with each other. Peter could never keep up. She was too fast. Already higher than he was.

“Do you think I can swing around the bar?” She asked him. Her eyes opened and she gave him a lopsided smile every time their swings passed each other. Her two front teeth were missing. He thought it was funny because they hadn’t even been wiggly the day before they fell out. She told him that the tooth fairy stole them straight out of her mouth in the middle of the night. He didn’t think that was very fair. He always had to be stuck with an annoying, wiggly tooth for days before it came out. Hers got to come out by magic overnight. Apparently teeth coming out by magic also made her top lip get all swollen and bruised. It looked like it might hurt but she never complained.

Peter nodded his head, admiring her toothless smile, “Of course! You can do anything.” It was true. He really believed she could do anything she wanted. He held her in such high regards. His best friend. His only friend.

“Okay! Let’s try it.”

They both pumped their legs a little harder and moved their bodies in motion with the swings to get up as high as they could. Peter could feel the flurry of nerves in his stomach the higher he got. The slack in the chain would loosen at a certain height and gravity would pull him back down again. His knuckles were white with the death grip he had on the chains, so afraid that if he let go he’d fall and hurt himself. Meanwhile, she continued to toss her head back and laugh with a wild abandon. This is where she felt the most free and this was where he fell in love.

She never made it over the bar.

Fourth Grade: The Broken Princess

It had been a week since she was in school. Peter missed her. He’d wander aimlessly around the playground at recess, kicking stones, and making up conversations in his head that he’d have with her. Sometimes he’d forget they were supposed to stay in his head and he’d find himself talking out loud to no one. The other kids would mock him whenever they caught him mouthing the words to an imaginary conversation. Nerdy Peter Parker and his girlfriend were always the butt of their jokes. They sneered at the word “girlfriend” as if that was a bad thing. He’d have to control his anger when he heard them laughing. It was okay if they were laughing at him but he hated when they made fun of her. He had promised Aunt May and Uncle Ben that he wouldn’t get into any more fights. It was becoming a hard promise to keep.

She was notorious for being absent from school but she’d never been out this long. He wondered what kind of sickness she had. She must be dying. That was the only explanation he could think of. She would die just like his parents had and he’d be all alone again. He decided that after school, he was going to go to her house to check. He’d never been inside her apartment building. She’d always come to play at his if they hung out. Uncle Ben had dropped her off at home before so Peter knew where it was. It shouldn’t be too hard to get there. He’d have to learn how to use the subway by himself eventually. This afternoon would be as good a time as any. He’d done it with Ben hundreds of times, he could figure it out on his own.

By the time school was over, Peter had already rushed through his homework and burst through his front door, tossing his bag on the ground and shouting for May.

She poked her head out of the kitchen and gave him a warm smile, “How was school?”

“I already did my homework!” He was out of breath from running all the way home. “Can I go out to play? I want to go to the skate park.” That was a lie. He didn’t like lying but sometimes it was necessary.

May gave a little shrug and nodded, “I don’t see why not. I trust that you actually finished all your homework and aren’t lying to me?”

He eagerly nodded.

She gave him a doubtful look but let it slide, “Be home by 6, that’s when your uncle gets off work. We’re having meatball subs for dinner.”

“Thank you! Love you! Bye!” He sprinted towards the front door.

“Peter!” She called after him.

He skidded to a stop and poked his head back around the corner into the kitchen, “What?”

May pointed her finger to his brand new skateboard sitting propped up against the living room couch, “Aren’t you forgetting something important for the skate park?”

His face flushed crimson, already having forgotten his cover story, “Oh ya. Can’t do much without that.”

“And bring a helmet, for heaven's sake. If I catch you riding that death trap without one, you will be in big trouble!”

Peter stood in front of her old, rundown apartment building. Her neighborhood scared him. It felt different when he was walking alone instead of sitting in the back of Uncle Ben’s car. He had kept his head down, the helmet dangling from his arm, and clutched his skateboard close to his chest. He was terrified of someone trying to steal it from him. The second he stepped out of the subway, he started to regret coming here. If Ben found out he lied to May about where he was going, Peter would be grounded for the rest of his life. Worse than that, he would have disappointed them. He never wanted to disappoint anyone.

The front door to the building was propped open with a cinder block so he didn’t have to ring her unit to get inside. There was a hole shattered through the glass that resembled too similarly to a bullet hole for his liking. Peter shivered at the thought of his friend living here. This was not the fairy tale castle she liked to pretend she lived in.

Peter quietly entered inside, his heart beating faster, like he was stepping into someplace he wasn’t allowed. The yellowed wallpaper was peeling off the walls and there were dark stains over the carpet. He didn’t want to inspect those too closely in case they were old blood stains. The air smelled thick with mildew. First floor, apartment 1F, he repeated in his head. Her wooden door was cracked with splinters. It looked like it had been painted a shade of a deep red once but was now faded and scuffed. He gave a quick knock, hoping it would be her who answered.

It took a few moments before a man opened the door. He towered over Peter, taking up most of the door frame. He had a large, hairy pot belly that stuck out from under his wife beater shirt and a scraggly brown beard peppered with grays. Peter scrunched up his nose at the smell that hit him. He smelled heavily of cigarettes, sweat, and alcohol. The scent was so strong it was making his eyes water. He was fairly certain this must be her father. He couldn’t remember if she ever told him her dad’s name.

“What do you want?” He spoke in a gruff, tired voice.

Peter straightened up and smiled at him to cover his anxious fear, “Hi, I’m Peter. Can I come in to see your daughter? I’m her best friend. She hasn’t been at school for a while so I thought I could give her some homework that she missed.” The lie fell out of his mouth without thinking. He had nothing else on him besides his skateboard and helmet. It was obvious he wasn’t carrying any extra homework with him.

Her father snorted, letting out a loud cough without covering his mouth. Specs of foul smelling spit showered down over Peter. He did his best not to flinch or grimace.

“Hell no. She knows she’s not allowed to hang out with boys. Don’t want her getting knocked up early like her momma. She don’t need no homework, anyway. She’s too dumb for that shit. What’s the point of even sendin’ her to school, ya know? Waste of damn time. Git outta ‘ere kid and don’t fucking come back.”

From under the man’s right arm, Peter saw her peek her head around the hallway to see who was at the door. Her eyes lit up when she saw him. On her arm was a large, bent, white cast that went from her wrist all the way up to her shoulder. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her. She was alive. She wasn’t dead. Relief flooded through his chest.

Her father must have seen his attention diverted and he glanced behind him, letting out a booming yell, making them both jump, “Get back to your room! I didn’t say you could come out! When are you goin’ to learn to fuckin’ listen, you dumb bitch?”

She ducked back into the hallway, out of sight, and the door was immediately slammed shut in Peter’s face. He stared at the cracking paint as a long breath of air exhaled through his lips. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath the entire time. Something about her dad made his palms feel clammy and his stomach feel sick. He immediately hated that man. All it took was a fifty second conversation for Peter to make up his mind. That man wasn’t anything like Uncle Ben or the vague memories of his own father. That was a bad man. No one had to tell him, he could feel it. A very bad man.

He wanted to run home and cry to his uncle. He wanted to tell him about how this man spoke to his friend. He wanted to tell him that he was hurting her. He wanted Ben to know so he could fix it.

But then he would know that Peter lied to May. He would be in trouble.

What if Uncle Ben came to this house? What if he met her father? What would her father do to him? What if he hurt him like he hurt her? What if he killed him? He didn’t want Ben to die.

His stomach ached.

She liked to make up stories about the big, bad giant that would keep the princess hostage in his tower. He would lock her up and throw away the key. Sometimes the giant would hurt the princess whenever he was angry. Peter would always play as the knight who came and rescued her. He would save the princess from any giant that wanted to take her away. This afternoon, as he stood staring at her closed door, the skateboard clutched in his hands turned into a sword. He would bash down the door, stab the giant through the heart, and steal his princess back to safety. In his mind, he was the hero who saved her. In reality, he swallowed the lump in his throat, a heavy pit settling in his stomach, and he shuffled back out the door without another word about what he witnessed.

He was starting to think that maybe her stories weren’t all make believe after all.

Sixth Grade: Star Gazing

“That’s the Big Dipper right there!” She pointed up above them.

They were sitting in his driveway on the hood of Uncle Ben's mustard colored Oldsmobile and reclining back against his bug splattered windshield. Night had fallen around them and a handful of dull stars blossomed up to speckle the navy blue sky.

“Or maybe it’s the Little Dipper. I can never remember which one is which.”

Peter didn’t think there were actually enough stars visible to be able to point out a constellation but he didn’t dare correct her. For all he knew, her vision was far superior to his. Besides, he liked to hear her talk. She doesn't talk very much these days. He missed the sound of her voice.

“The Big Dipper isn’t even the full constellation,” she went on to tell him. “It’s actually part of Ursa Major, which is a big bear.”

He noticed her interest in the stars had peeked this year. He wondered if it had anything to do with her desire to fly away. When she looked up in the night sky, did she wish to find a new home hidden amongst the stars?

Peter wanted to please her. He wanted to make her happy.

“I have an idea,” he whispered with enthusiasm, hoping she would appreciate it. “Let’s each pick a star and name it after ourselves. We can make our own constellations out of it.”

He heard her give a quick inhale. It was the most excitement she would allow herself to show but he knew it meant that she loved his idea. Pride swelled in his chest.

“I choose that one,” she pointed, without hesitation, up to a pin prick of light hovering above a tree branch. There weren’t many stars to choose from but it didn’t matter. She found the one she wanted. “That’s my star. It’s the tip of the nose to a dragon. Big and strong. She blows fire out of her mouth at anyone who tries to mess with her. She’s not afraid of anything or anyone.”

Peter had the sudden itch to reach over and hold her hand. The tip of his pinky finger brushed up next to hers, subtle enough to seem like an accident, but he knew the truth. When she didn’t pull away, he kept his hand resting there.

“I’ll pick that one,” he gestured to a random, faint star near the one she chose, with the hand not begging to be held. “It will make a castle constellation. Big enough for the dragon to come inside whenever she needs to rest. Maybe it can be her home. That way me and you can live together in the stars forever.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw her smile.

“I like that idea.”

Seventh Grade: Cotton Candy Crushes

“Hurry up!” Peter yelled over his shoulder as she trailed behind him.

Her thirteenth birthday was supposed to be special. She was finally a teenager and leaving childhood behind. At least, that’s what Uncle Ben told him a month before on Peter’s own thirteenth birthday. It was supposed to be special because it meant they were finally growing up. He didn’t feel very grown up but he liked to pretend. Part of pretending to be a responsible teenager was planning her entire party for her. He knew if he didn’t do it then she wouldn’t get one. Both his aunt and uncle were in attendance as he led the three stragglers down the pier straight towards Coney Island. It was a small group to celebrate but he knew she wouldn’t want anyone else beside them there. His family was her family and everyone wanted to celebrate her. They didn’t have any other friends anyway.

“We’re coming, Peter! Not everyone has the same amount of energy as you. Some of us are getting old,” Ben chuckled, his arm wrapped around May’s shoulders, as they brought up the rear.

Peter slowed his pace only long enough to allow her to catch up and then kept in stride beside her. She had a growth spurt earlier this year. Now she was about a head taller than he was. It made him nervous because he was afraid she wouldn’t like him anymore if he stayed short. Despite his aunt’s assurance that girls often started puberty faster than boys, he was certain he was destined to stay at this height forever.

He also took notice that she started growing in other places. He tried his best not to stare at her chest when they were together but sometimes he couldn’t help it. It was like he would go into a trance and not be able to pull his eyes away. Even with a face full of acne, she was the most beautiful girl he ever saw.

She glanced down at him and stuffed her hands deeper into her sweatshirt sleeves. Her shoulders hunched in embarrassment.

“What? Is there something on my face?” She quickly rubbed her hand over her mouth as if she was worried she missed some leftover tooth paste.

Peter’s ears turned red, “No! You look great! I mean…you look fine…not fine but you look…normal…like you normally do…which is good…”

She grabbed her hood and flopped it over her head, pulling the strings tight to encase her face, clearly embarrassed, “Stop looking at me then. I didn’t say you could look at me.”

He immediately turned his eyes straight ahead, “Sorry. I wasn’t looking. Well, I was, but I don’t know why.” He quickly changed the subject, dragging Ben into the awkward conversation as an attempt to save himself from drowning any further. “Are you going to go on any rides, Uncle Ben?”

He smiled, “I think I might convince your aunt to get on the carousel with me. We can pretend we’re kids again.”

May shook her head, “I don’t know about that. I don’t think I can spin like I used to.”

“It goes so slow though. You’ll be fine,” Peter chimed in. As he spoke, he kept his friend locked in the side of his gaze. Her shoulders had relaxed once more and the sides of her lips twitched into a tiny smile. He let out a soft sigh of relief for navigating them out of whatever weird, uncomfortable banter they had fallen to. He felt like that was happening a lot more lately.

“Let’s go on the swings first!” It was the real reason he wanted to bring her here. Her childhood days of losing herself on the swingset were behind them but he knew she would appreciate that feeling of flying once more. He had this vision of her tilting her head back, hair flying in the gust of the wind behind her, as she closed her eyes and let her mind fly free. Peter wanted to give her every bit of comfort he could, especially today. It was her birthday and she deserved to get lost in it.

Swings, carousels, tilt-a-whirl, wooden coasters, overpriced carnival games, junk food, and many laughs.

His heart even nearly gave out when she reached for his hand during the drop of the coaster. Her palms were sweaty and she fit so nicely locked in his grasp. He wanted to protect her. Wrap an arm around her. Keep her forever. Tell her how much he adored her. He held on tightly to her hand until she took notice and quickly pulled back, placing them on the bar instead.

Now, as they sat with their shoes off and feet buried in the sand next to the pier, watching the sunset, Peter passed her his stick of pink, fluffy cotton candy. She plucked off a piece and stuffed it in her mouth, giggling at how it stuck to her lips.

He loved her. He didn’t care if he was too young to understand what love meant. He loved her.

When she took her eyes off the sunset to stare back at him, instead of becoming flustered like earlier in the day, she only smiled back. Pink coated, sugary lips as sweet as her.

He wanted to kiss her.

But the fear of rejection was too strong.

He stuck out his tongue to tease her and snatched back his cotton candy, the moment lost to time.

High School - Sophomore Year: Not Today

Gwen Stacey.

The girl of his dreams.

She was beautiful, intelligent, kind and quick witted. Her 70’s chic style of clothing was unlike anyone else in the school. She didn’t care what others thought of her. She was strong and confident. She was perfect. That’s how he would describe her to anyone who asked. Perfection.

“You’re staring again, dumbass.”

The familiar snarky tone broke through his daydreams.

He pulled his sights away from the golden haired beauty sitting across the lunch room and turned them onto a different one instead.

Then there was her.

She wasn’t perfect. Far from it. She was broken. Sullen. Quiet. She never spoke to anyone else besides him. Never even tried to make other friends. But she was just as intelligent as Gwen. Smart but sad. He noticed that more and more. As the years went on, she lost more of the spark in her eyes. She retreated further into herself. Away from him. Away from everyone.

He sensed jealousy in her tone whenever he talked about his crush on Gwen. She was afraid to lose him. Afraid that he would leave her behind on her own. Without him, she would have no one. He knew that.

Peter forced a tired smile, lying, “I wasn’t staring.”

He used to stare at her that way when they were younger. Funny how time works. He didn’t see her like that anymore. Not really. Her personality shift since entering high school helped push his sights onto someone new. He missed who used to be before she walled herself in and blocked him out.

“Whatever you say, fuckin’ lover boy,” she rolled her eyes, giving him a scowl. She felt meaner than usual today. Irritated. On edge.

He wondered if something had happened. He had stopped asking about her home life years ago. It was a lost cause. He knew she was getting bullied at school, probably at home too. There were a myriad of reasons for her bad attitude.

He chose not to dig deeper.

She needed an outlet but he didn’t want to give her one. Not today. He was feeling meaner than usual, too.

Peter turned his gaze back to Gwen.

She was easier to look at. Softer. Happier. When he saw her, he didn’t have to see the years worth of baggage dragging behind her. There was just her and nothing else but his fantasies.

Perfection.

High School - Junior Year: Spider Bite

His body hurt.

Fire. He felt like liquid lava raged through his veins. His skin was clammy. Sweaty. His lungs constricted in agony with each breath. He could hear everything. Feel everything. Every hair was standing at attention. Every alarm in his head set off at once, alerting himself to dangers he couldn’t even see. Dangers he didn’t think were actually even there. Like having a panic attack for no apparent reason.

His body was eating him alive and, yet, he never felt stronger in his life.

The door to his bathroom lay propped up against his wall after he had accidentally ripped it from the hinges.

He sat perfectly still on his bed. Terrified to move.

There was a fluttering sound. Tiny, soft wings against a glass panel. Each smack of the wings reverberated like church bells inside his skull. A moth was stuck inside his room, trying to get out, trying to escape. He could hear it from his place on the bed. He could hear the flap of a moth’s wings. That was not normal.

Something was wrong.

He was sick.

He needed…a doctor…a scientist…an arachnologist…

His best friend. He needed his best friend.

Peter grabbed his jacket, getting it stuck to his fingers - why was everything so sticky? - as he tried to pry it from his grasp and onto his body instead.

He hadn’t been inside her apartment building since he was a kid. She never invited him. Sometimes he would walk her home but he stayed on the street corner until he saw her disappear inside. She moved apartments a few times but still remained inside the same building. He couldn’t remember which one she was in now. He knew she was back on the first floor though. That would be enough. Something told him that he would be able to find her regardless of his lack of knowledge.

Every sound of passing cars felt like his ear drums were being shattered. He could hear muffled conversations from people too far away. He could feel every drop of humidity on his skin. The putrid stench of garbage left on the street clawed up his nostrils. The smells, the sounds, the heat boiling inside his body was too much. Hot tears pricked at his eyes. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. The world was closing in. He couldn’t breathe. His throat constricted. His vision blurred. He was floating away. Getting lost in the overwhelming sensations of the city.

Then he smelled it.

Her body lotion.

The faint smell of coconut as she applied it to her skin.

From an entire block away.

Peter picked up the pace until he was nearly sprinting towards the smell. He didn’t need to know which apartment was hers. It didn’t matter. He could hear her inside. Her steady heart beat. Her soft breaths. He’d never felt her so viscerally before. It felt like she was merging with his every cell. Drawing him closer. Calling him to her.

His safety. Everything would be okay once he was with her. Everything would make sense again. She would know what to do. She always did.

The tears streamed freely down his face as he turned the corner, down the alley, to the back of her building. She was three windows in. Metal bars fixed over every window on the first floor. Her own little prison cell. He could smell the thick odor of rust as he grabbed the bars in his fist, ripping them straight from her window with little effort. He heard her gasp. No screams. Just a shocked inhale. She never screamed. Never showed her fear. She kept it bottled up inside the safety of her chest.

The rapid quiver of her beating heart slowed when she saw his face appear through the grimy glass. Her eyes were wide with shock. Confusion. He didn’t care. Peter pushed the window open. It had probably never been opened in its life, painted over countless times, but he forced it to bend to his will. He crawled through. Head first. Tumbled onto the floor in a heap.

And then she was there.

He was lying at her feet. Curled up tight. Tears spilling down his flushed cheeks. Jittery uncertainty behind fearful, honey colored eyes. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. A scared, little boy seeking the comfort of a life long friend.

She fell to her knees in front of him, ignoring the fact that he had just ripped metal bars from the bricks, and gathered him to her chest like a mother protecting her young. She didn’t need to know what was wrong. She didn’t need an explanation. All she knew was that he needed her. She held him tightly, there on the floor, under her broken window.

He relaxed into the safety of her grasp. Ragged, husky sobs shaking his body. It would be okay. Everything would be okay now. They could figure this out. Whatever this was. Together.

Even as he thought it, she whispered the words to reassure him. To make sure he knew.

“It’s okay, Pete. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re okay. I have you.”

A Week Before She Left: Nothing but Death

Gwen Stacy was dead.

George Stacy was dead.

Uncle Ben was dead.

He couldn’t save anyone. There was nothing. Nothing but grief. Nothing but hate. His heart had turned cold. Empty. Shriveled.

He looked down at the letter clutched in his hands. May had taken it from her as an act of courtesy and slid it under his bedroom door.

Pete,

You can find me at the Empire State Uni off campus apartment housing. Building 5. Room 212. I’ve got two roommates but I have my own bedroom.

My window will always be unlocked for you if you ever need me.

Come find me when you’re ready.

Love,

Your Fire Breathing Dragon

She kept knocking at his front door. Day after day. Kept trying to come inside. Kept trying to get him. He wouldn’t let her. Couldn’t. He refused to let anyone else die.

He was no knight in shining armor riding into an imaginary battle with his dragon. He wasn’t someone who could save her. He wasn’t her friend. Not anymore. The boy she knew was gone.

He was a murderer. A killer.

He wouldn’t kill her. The best thing for her was for him to disappear. Erase himself from her life. Fade away in the darkness where he belonged.

He crumbled the letter in his fist, letting it fall to the floor by his feet, along with the shredded dreams of his future.

Eight Months Since She Left: A Decaying Corpse

How many slutty blondes could Peter Parker fuck in a single week?

Eleven. That was his current score. Last night he had two at once. He buried his face between one’s thighs while the other sucked him off. No one tasted as good as Gwen. No one looked as beautiful naked. No one could ever come close.

Except for maybe one.

Peter pushed that thought out of his brain as quickly as it entered. She was gone. They both were. She died along with Gwen. That’s how he tried to frame it in his head. Somehow it was easier to accept. If he killed her off in his heart then he wouldn’t be tempted to find her. He couldn’t follow the dead.

No matter how badly he tried.

These women he surrounded himself with were nothing but a distraction. Half the time he couldn’t even finish. He could fuck them until they couldn’t stand but rarely found his own satisfaction in it. That was how he liked it. The more rough they let him be, the better. A sadistic side to him had formed these past few months. Part of him wanted to hurt them. Truly hurt them. They meant nothing to him. He liked to see how far he could push them, how hard he could slap them, how loud he could make them shriek before it became too much for them to handle. He wanted to push them past the limits they thought they had to show them how much they could really take. A test of their strength, of their will to live, how far they could go before tapping out.

Once he choked a woman so tightly, he almost couldn’t stop. For a moment he wanted to feel his fingernails break through the barrier of her delicate skin and sink into the viscera of her insides. He wanted to tear her vocal chords from her neck. He wanted to feel her blood soaking into his skin. He wanted to kill her. She didn’t deserve to live. Why did she get to live while Gwen had to die? What did she do to deserve this life?

It had taken everything in him to pull back. Before she could even fully catch her breath again, he was gone. Naked. Lost into the night. Didn’t even stop to grab his clothes.

He didn’t know the person he had become.

He wasn’t eating. Wasn’t sleeping.

He had killed more bad guys this month than the month before. His body count was rapidly rising. It didn't matter what they did. Rapists, killers, and bank robbers were all the same in his eyes. No crime was less than the one before. They all got the finality of death. He didn��t care. The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man no longer existed. He died along with the old Peter. If the police thought he was a menace before, he was now actively wanted. A warrant was out for the arrest of the Spider-Man. Had been for some time. They would never catch him, of course. He’d snatch their life from them before he let anyone take him in. It wouldn’t be the first time he had a cop’s blood on his hands.

A vigilante turned villain.

A decaying corpse of the man he once was.

Nine Months Since She Left: We’re All Dead

“Where the hell have you been?”

May sat in the dark at the kitchen table. It was 3am. She was still awake. She usually never waited up for him anymore. He thought she had stopped asking questions months ago.

Peter stood in loose fitting, dirty clothes. Fresh blood dripped down his chin from his split open lip. His right eye was starting to swell shut. He refused to look at her as he gave a half-hearted shrug.

“Out.”

“Out? It is three in the goddamn morning, Peter!” Her voice was shrill. She was masking her fear for him with anger. “This is the fifth time this week you have disappeared like this. Do you understand how worried I get? You come crawling home every night covered in more bruises than I keep track of. Where are you going? What are you doing? Who is doing this to you?”

He swallowed. His throat felt dry. He wished he could feel the familiar pang of guilt he used to feel whenever he would upset May. Instead, he felt nothing because there was nothing. He was nothing. A corpse.

“I said I was out. I’m not a child anymore. You don’t need to wait up. I can take care of myself.”

He pushed past her towards the stairs, making the climb to his bedroom. She followed closely behind him.

“You think you can take care of yourself? Look at you, Peter! You are wasting away into nothing! I can’t find you behind your eyes anymore. It’s like there is nothing left inside of you. You need help. Let me help you, please. I can’t keep sitting around watching you slowly kill yourself. I can’t lose you, too. You are my boy and I refuse to let you continue down this path.”

An angry beast raged inside his chest as he stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to growl in her face, “I am not your boy! I am not your son! My parents are dead with the rest of everyone else I ever gave a shit about! Ben is dead. Gwen is dead. You’re dead.” His eyes fell to an old picture of his friend hanging on his bedroom wall. They were kids. Smiling with arms wrapped each other’s necks. “She’s dead. I’m dead. Everyone is dead, May. Don’t you understand? Everyone is dead and there’s nothing left. I have no one! I am nothing. I don’t exist.” His bottom lip quivered but no tears formed. He had lost the ability to cry long ago.

Her face broke in anguish, “Oh, honey.” Her voice was nothing more than a hushed whisper. “Oh, Peter.” She tried to wrap him up in an embrace but he pulled back.

He shook his head, looking at her through pained, dead eyes, “I think it would be best if I moved out.”

He closed the door in her face before she could reply.

“Peter?”

He didn’t remember coming here.

After his run in with May, he had started emptying out his drawers. He hadn’t known what he was looking for. Probably nothing. He just needed to be doing something. Anything. He had thrown his dresser drawers open and flung out his clothes. They lay scattered at his feet. Papers from his desk slowly fluttered back to the ground as he tossed them over his shoulder. A tantrum. That’s what he was reduced to. A tantrum where he needed to destroy everything he touched.

And then her crumbled letter was somehow in his hand. His last contact with her. He didn’t even know he had kept it.

You can find me at the Empire State Uni off campus apartment housing. Building 5. Room 212.

His safety. His best friend. He had abandoned her. She wasn’t dead, just forgotten. He had killed her in his mind to make the separation easier. He was protecting her. He was keeping her safe. He didn’t want her to die. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t bury another person he loved.

My window will always be unlocked for you if you ever need me.

“Peter?”

He blinked, his mask was on. He was in his Spider suit. He didn’t remember putting it on. He didn’t remember how he got here.

Come find me when you’re ready.

He reached up to pull the mask from his head. His eyes bore into her. He wasn’t sure if she was real or not. He couldn’t feel her living inside his senses like he used. They had become so dull since Gwen died.

“What are you doing here?” She looked nervous like she was encountering a ghost.

Maybe she was.

His voice felt like a distant echo in his ears as he spoke, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Summer: Why?

Her roommates hated him.

He could hear them constantly bitching about his presence through the walls. He was a dark cloud of depression hanging over their apartment.

It only got worse after he fucked them. Not at the same time. Separate occasions. He thought it might shut them up for a bit but, once they found out he was sleeping with them both, all hell broke loose.

They were screaming at each in the next room.

Somehow she had gotten involved in the mess, too. He hadn’t intended for that but there was no stopping it now. They were yelling at her for letting him live here without paying rent. He didn’t even go to their school. They felt betrayed and used and they weren’t wrong. A man whore. That’s what they were currently calling him.

A malicious smile grew across his lips as he laid in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. He liked the chaos that he caused. He wanted her roommates gone. Peter knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted her for himself. All they did was complain anyway. They never liked her. They made fun of her behind her back. They didn’t like her anymore than they liked him.

Once they were gone it would all be okay again.

They could go back to how things used to be. Just the two of them against the world. Two kids, with no other friends, clinging to each other as tight as they could.

Her bedroom door opened. Her eyes were puffy. She was trying not to cry. For the first time in a long time, he felt the sharp slashing of guilt slice through his heart. An overwhelming sadness washed over him. It had been so long since he felt anything besides anger or bitterness. His jaw clenched as he sat up, mulling over the new emotions bubbling under his skin.

“Why did you do that? Why are you doing this?” She asked weakly.

Why am I taking advantage of your kindness by having you house me for free? Why am I letting you take care of me without giving you anything in return? Why am I sleeping with your roommates? Why am I sleeping with them instead of you? Why am I torturing you like this?

“I…I don’t know,” he replied.

He knew how she felt about him. He could see it in her eyes. He knew that look. He’d seen it in Gwen’s eyes once upon a time. She loved him. More than a friend. More than family.

Maybe she always had.

He’d always loved her. Even when he loved Gwen.

He couldn’t love her though. Not like she deserved. That part of him was gone.

She sighed and wiped the tears from her eyes, a steady resolve settling over her, “They’re pulling out of our student housing next semester. I’m not going to have anyone to live with. You need to enroll in the school. It’ll qualify you for housing. We can move in together. I want to see it done by next week or else I’m done. I can’t do this, Peter. I took care of you all summer. You hardly speak to me, you don’t look at me, you give me nothing. I do everything for you because I know you’re hurting but this is enough. Enroll in the school, Pete. Get your life together. Try and make something of yourself. It’s time.”

Early Fall: Triggers

School was easy. It always has been. This was no different. He understood the lessons and could pass the tests, he merely struggled to attend the classes or pay attention. No one seemed to mind too much as long as he was passing. He wasn’t doing this for him. He was doing it for her.

Little by little his feelings started to unthaw from their frozen state. College gave him a taste of normalcy back. There was a schedule to follow, whether he chose to or not. There was food always available and safe places to find silence when he needed to. He hadn’t spoken to May since he left but he kept telling himself one of these days he would reach out.

He was trying to mend what shred of friendship he had left. She was very forgiving of him despite everything he put her through. Every day he saw the love in her eyes grow stronger. It scared him. Two steps forward, one step back. He wanted to keep her close but still hold her at arm's length. She couldn’t love him. He wasn’t ready for that.

He would keep their conversations based on easier things. School work, Spider-Man, any lighthearted topics that involve little effort. Spider-Man was getting back to his old self, too. Peter hadn’t killed anyone since he found his way back to her, inadvertently or not. She was building new gadgets for him. Part of him felt like he was back in high school, popping by her bedroom window for a drink of water before swinging back into the night. It was nice. Familiar.

Tonight she sat cross-legged on the couch, a pint of Ben and Jerry’s in her hand, as she watched Hook.

“I haven’t seen this movie since I was a kid,” he lamented.

Peter hopped over to her and plopped down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She happily snuggled into his side. It felt right having her there. She scooped up a spoonful of the chocolate chip cookie dough and held it up to his mouth which he gladly accepted.

“Do you ‘member what you asked the first time we met?” He asked her through his mouthful of ice cream.

She frowned, trying to remember. The top of her nose wrinkled in concentration then relaxed, shaking her head, “No idea. I was, like, six years old or something. How do you remember that?”

He smiled down at her, “You asked me if I was named after Peter Pan.”

“Sounds like something a child would ask. He was the only other Peter I knew.”

He nodded, pondering it over, “I told you that I wasn’t because I couldn’t fly.”

“Look at you now,” she laughed. “I think swinging through the city is the closest you’ll ever come to flying. You almost got there.”

His smile faded, only part of her words still ringing in his ears while the rest was drowned out. Look at him now. Look at him. Who was he? Nobody. Who did he want to be? Nothing. Why was he alive? Because he was too weak to take his own life. What was his purpose? There wasn’t one. What was he doing here? Hurting her.

He was hurting her. His abilities to feel proper emotions were still miniscule. They weren’t thawing out as fast as he would have liked. He was still cold too. Too mean. Too selfish. His mere presence in her life would only ever drag her down.

Rufio was fighting Captain Hook. Going one on one with their world’s most dangerous pirate. Too cocky for his own good. Too young for the responsibility he was given. The Lost Boys looked to Rufio when Pan left them. He was placed in charge. He was given too much power, too young. Got too full of himself. Thought he could defeat the evil without any consequences. It would be his downfall.

Peter’s eyes stayed trained onto the television, utterly absorbed in the story playing out before him. His own emotions started to spiral. He could feel the panic rising up his throat. Snuffing out his air. He knew what was coming next. He knew how this story ended.

“Lookie, lookie, I got Hookie.”

His eyes slipped close. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t watch the sword pierced through his chest.

“Do you know what I wish? I wish I had a dad like you.”

He wished he could turn back time. He wished he could have been faster. Stronger. Better.

Pan held Rufio in his arms as the young boy died, the life fading from his eyes, just like he had held Gwen. Forever young. Frozen in time.

Even the giant clock lodged between the crocodile’s toothy jaws reminded him of her final moments. Tick…tick…tick…her time was lost.

Peter blinked through half spaced out eyes, straightening up, and removed his arm from around her shoulders. They shouldn’t be cuddling like this. This was how couples sat. This was how he used to sit with Gwen. He was giving her the wrong impression. He wasn’t helping her. He was being a bad friend. Always hurting her.

“You okay?” She glanced between the scene playing and himself. She could sense his coldness settling back in around them.

He gave a stiff nod, forcing a half smile, “Yeah. I’m alright. I think I’m going to go out for a bit. I’ll see ya later, yeah?”

He needed to find someone. A blonde. Someone skinny with a pretty face. He needed to find them and dominate them. He needed them screaming so loud as he relentlessly pounded into them that she would hear. He had to show her that he wasn’t interested. He had to crush her love. That love would only lead to death. He couldn’t do that again. He wouldn’t bury her. He wouldn’t. Not to her. Never her.

Late Fall: A New Seed

It worked. Whatever depression fueled scheme he had come up with to stop her from loving him, it was working, he was fairly certain. She seemed distant. He knew he was breaking her but he couldn’t stop. It had to be this way. How could he ever love someone again? It would shatter him in two if he even dared to entertain the idea. The further he pushed her away, the more she overtook his thoughts.

Every time he plunged into a woman, he pretended it was her. Every late night session with his right hand was fueled by his desires for her. Every time he closed his eyes to sleep, she was the subject of his dreams. He breathed her in with every breath he took.

She was so beautiful.

She always had been but, the more she matured into an adult, the more in sync everything felt on her face. It was like she fell perfectly into place.

Sometimes when he looked at her, he felt like he was eight years olds again, falling in love with her on the swings.

The object of his desires. The one he wanted. The one he refused to reach out for time and time again. Only this time he wasn’t afraid of being rejected from a kiss. He was afraid of death. Afraid of the pain that would follow.

His whole life she had been his. She never had anyone else. He never had to share. He made her have to share him but never the other way around.

Until now.

It was only a matter of time until someone finally saw her the way he did. He was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. The guy seemed nice enough. She lit up when he looked at her. A tiny spark of fire blazed behind her eyes with each word she spoke to him. There was something there. A seed being planted. One that could grow if she let it. He planted a seed and started to nurture it with someone else once. She should be able to do the same.

Gabe.

Gwen.

This was what she deserved. To be loved by a nice man. Someone who would cherish her. Someone to see her potential. Someone to care about her.

Someone with the ability to love. Anyone but Peter would do, he couldn’t give her what she needed.

Then why couldn’t he stay away?

He saw them together and his heart screamed out. His skin seared with heated inferno. Green with envy.

Gabe. Gwen. Gwen. Gabe. Their faces flashed rapidly before his blurred vision. Gabe. Gwen. Gabe. Gwen. GabeGwenGabeGwenGwenGwen -

Her.

He couldn’t lose her. Not like this. He couldn’t watch her disappear from him with another man. Is that how she felt all those years ago as he fixated on Gwen in the lunch room instead of her? Is this what her heart felt like when she looked at him? No wonder why she used to be so fucking mean. If her heart felt anything close to what he currently felt, it was a miracle she was able to keep herself so composed.

Drawn to her like a magnet, he couldn’t control himself. He had to follow them. It wasn’t an option. His feet carried him straight to the shadows of the underpass.

Gabe didn’t know her like he did. He didn’t play make believe with her. He didn’t pass notes with her in class. He didn’t devote his life to being her best friend. He didn’t know about her father or how she grew up. He never had to kill her off in his mind to even bear the thought of letting her go. They never manifested themselves into constellations so they could live together, forever, amongst the stars.

He wasn’t there like Peter was. Peter knew her. Every part of her. So deeply.

They were kissing. He was kissing her. She was kissing him back.

The earth crumbled under his feet.

He should be able to let her go. This was what he was trying to do. This was exactly why he was trying to push her away. This was his stupid plan. He had wanted her to move on. Anyone but him. Anyone…

Then why couldn’t he stop himself?

Like a jealous, angry, cocky boy given too much power before he was ready to fully bear the weight of it, he had tased her date and got him sent away in an ambulance.

Just like that he was gone.

Disappeared from their lives as quickly as he came in.

Nothing but the two of them now.

Like it always had been. Like it always will be.

She was furious. Livid. But, worst of all, she was heartbroken. Completely and wholly heartbroken.

“He made me feel special. He looked at me like I was beautiful. Why couldn’t you let me have that? Just once. Just once I wanted to feel like someone could love me. You gotta have that so why couldn’t I?”

She was beautiful even through her pain.

The city lights reflected off the water beside them and bounced back up onto her face. They glinted like tiny sparkles off the tears in her eyes.

He hurt her.

He broke her heart.

His best friend.

His only friend.

Peter closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him and absorb into his pores. She had never once felt beautiful before tonight. How he had failed her. All these years she had looked in the mirror and never saw what he did. All these years he had loved her and never dared to say it. She was right there in front of him and he had chosen someone else. Loved someone else. He was the one who broke her. The one who abandoned her. The one who exploited her generosity and friendship.

What had he become?

He let himself die with Gwen when he should have kept living for the person who needed him most.

“I love you,” the words he spoke were hardly above a whisper.

They fell from his lips with a raw honesty he wasn’t used to. Pained like it hurt to physically say them.

He loved her. Always.

Even still, she couldn’t comprehend how true his words were. That’s how deeply he had failed her.

“No. You’re not hearing me.” He reached for her then. He couldn’t stop himself. The emotions were too strong. He touched her cheek. Softly turning her face towards him, “I love you. I’ve loved you since the day you fell off those monkey bars in the first grade. I just…it was just too much. I was scared if it didn’t work out then I would lose you from my life forever. I’d rather keep you as my friend where you’re safe with me forever. But after Gw-” He still couldn’t say her name out loud. His heart stung. “-after everything, I don’t want to have anymore what ifs or what could have been. I saw you with that guy and it made me realize. Everything snapped into place. I love you. I don't want you to be with someone else. I want you to be with me.”

She was kissing him.

Her lips were chilly. Soft. Her tongue warm and wet. A perfect blend to awake his senses. He felt alive. For the first time since allowing parts of him to perish, he was reborn. Awake. Whole.

His arms were around her waist. Drawing her closer. He could smell the soft, lingering scent of coconut on her skin. The smell was as familiar to him as May’s light, floral perfume and the musty backseat of Ben’s Oldsmobile. One he could never forget. His home. His childhood. His everything.

He loved her.

He wanted her.

He…

Gwen’s face exploded into vibrant color behind his eyes.

…couldn’t do this.

Peter gently pulled away.

Her fist was balled up in her sleeve and pressed against the infamous spider symbol on his chest. Her eyes fluttered open. They gazed up at him with years of unexpressed love. She was too pure. Too good.

He gave her a sad smile, “I’ve thought you were beautiful my entire life. I’m sorry I never told you sooner. I should have told you every single day. But…this…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing himself. “I’m a broken man. I’m not okay. I’m not done healing. I don’t even think I’ve started. What I did tonight proves that. You are the most special person in my life. I’m sorry I keep hurting you. My head, it's…it’s not right…after everything…I’ve done terrible things. Things you deserve to know about before you choose me. I can’t steal you away like this. You deserve to make the choice yourself. After you know everything. When I’m done, whatever you want, I’ll do it. If you want me to drop you off at the hospital to see Gabe, I’ll do it. If you want to never see me again, I’ll go. If you want to keep me, I’ll stay. Everything is in your hands. It’s where it belongs.”

She stayed silent. Listening. Processing.

And nodded.

There’s no good way to tell the person he loves about all the people he’s killed. It didn’t matter if they were bad guys, he was no better than them, he killed them quick and swift before the cops could arrive. There had been no more cute notes stuck to a webbed up, squirming criminal. Instead, all they’d arrive to was a bloody, broken, still warm corpse. If they were dead, there was no chance they could ever hurt anyone again. There was no more chance of anyone innocent crossing paths with the danger they brought. He gave them no chance for redemption and he felt no guilt for them or their lost lives.

He couldn’t look her in the eyes when talking about the sexual abuse he inflicted on his sex partners. Most of the time they asked for it, agreed to it, but there were times when he went too far. Times they weren’t always asking to be slapped around that hard. Times he had lost himself. Times he wished they were dead. For them, he felt guilt. A deep-seated cavern full of it. He’d rather be ripped apart, limb by limb, than explain in detail how far he fell after Gwen’s death and witness the horror etched into her features.

But he did it.

Because she deserved to hear it. All of it. Every dark monster lurking deep behind his closet door. He ripped open his chest and presented her his bloodied, broken heart without anything to hide behind.

She cried. He cried. The tears felt foreign in his eyes but she had held his hand and he willed them to fall. It was a mess but they came out the other end more in sync than when they entered.

A start.

A new seed being planted in fresh, overturned soil.

The love was there. Nervous and shy, hiding behind their legs like a scared child. It needed time to grow, to blossom, before it was ready to stand on its own.

It was decided that Peter needed to focus on himself first. A relationship now would be too fragile. There was no foundation for them to build on if Peter was broken and cracked.

The anger couldn’t go away overnight. The shame and guilt lived on too strong to allow for much else. He’d have to pick away at the vines wrapped tight around his castle walls if he’d ever want to create a warm home for her to curl up inside.

Their conversation lasted all night. They hadn’t moved from their spot standing above the river. He stood directly over the place he had tased a man simply because he saw her kissing someone who wasn’t him. They hadn’t moved an inch. Night turned into day. Dark to light. The early morning work folk started to take to the streets. No one looked twice at the maskless Spider-Man leaning against the railing, dried tears on his face, next to the girl of his dreams. It was too early for anyone to care.

They watched the sun steadily rise over the buildings in silence.

They had been silent for a while now but neither one wanted to move. It was comfortable here, side by side, with everything laid bare. No more secrets. No more hiding.

“Therapy.”

She was the one to break first.

He blinked a few times to wash away the sleepy, mindless state he’d fallen into, “Hmm?”

“Therapy,” she repeated. “That’s what I chose for us. You are going to get therapy. Me too. We need it.” She let out a soft exhale. “Badly.”

Peter responded with a tired chuckle, “Therapy. I think I can manage that. Therapy, it is, then. That’s what we will do.”

She nodded in confirmation, “I want you to keep living with me. Keep our separate rooms. I want to keep being friends and supporting each other while we do this. But, Peter-” Her tone shifted into something more serious, her body shifted to face him. “I do not want to ever listen to you have sex with someone inside our apartment. I won’t ever sit through that again. I love you, you know that, and I will not be tortured with that shit anymore. In return, I won’t date anyone else until you’re ready. Not that I have a line of suitors waiting out the door anyway…”

The morning, golden sun highlighted the frizz that settled on top of her windblown hair after her stressful night.

He wasn’t ever planning on sleeping with anyone again unless it was her.

“And,” she continued. “I want you to visit Gabe with me to give him a proper apology. We both owe him that. He’s a good person. He deserves an explanation. Just, like, leave out the part where you’re Spider-Man and I created the Bug Zappers that nearly killed him.”

A lazy, crooked smile formed on his face, “Okay. Anything you say, I’ll do. Therapy, apologies, and abstinence.”

She mimicked his smile, the love never once fading from her eyes, “Only for now.”

One day, he would be able to give her everything she wanted. One day, she would be able to accept it.

One day but not today.

Today, they would walk arm and arm back to their home and fall asleep against each other on the couch. Today, they would skip classes and order in food. Today, they will be friends.

Tomorrow, they could be whatever they wanted. Tomorrow, he might even continue with the apologies and give May a call. He’d gone too long without speaking to her. Maybe they could visit. All three of them together. Like older times. Times when everything seemed less big. Less scary. Less real and final.

The future was theirs.

Peter nodded, reaching out to take her hand, “For now.”

i’m still #teamgabe

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