#may parker being an angel

[hurtspideyparker]

Thinking about restless spirit Tony Stark who just can't move on to the after life.

The first thing he does once he realizes he's an apparition is check on Pepper and Morgan. True to their word, they're okay. He watches them for a bit but feels this deep unrest pulling him away from the quaint home he yearns for.

There's a deep wrongness within him, some unfinished business that draws him back to New York.

He fears for a moment that it's Peter- but no, it can't be him. He'll be in Massachusetts right now, attending MIT as a freshman. There isn't a doubt in Tony's mind that his little genius is already making his mark.

Still, he follows the pull of his spirit to some dingy Queens' apartment he's never been to before.

It's deep in the night yet the apartment is empty. He looks around a bit, his body phasing through anything he attempts to touch.

It's small and dirty. There's old coffee cups on the desk, alongside a couple GED manuals. Great, the universe thinks he has unfinished business with some broke high school dropout.

He's pondering how he must have screwed up this kid's life; was it the Avengers, Stark Industries? Maybe his old playboy lifestyle is finally coming to bite him in the ass.

His contemplation is cut short by the sound of the window cracking open.

It strikes Tony for a moment that maybe he's stuck on Earth to be a guardian angel, Iron Man living on as some invisible protector against whatever creep is sneaking into people's windows. It doesn't make much sense considering the whole non-corporeal thing, but he still stiffens like he's ready for a fight.

He sees a man- no, a thing? A creature maybe, or an alien. Even in death Tony can't escape being one of Earth's mightiest heroes.

The creature is shrouded in darkness, something slick and bald crawling inside the room with terrifying grace and silence. It shuts the window with a soft kssssh as the seal is formed.

And then it pulls off its mask.

There, with the click of a table lamp, glows the face of Peter Parker.

He's definitely older now; sturdier shoulders, a rugged set of his jaw, hair tamed to something semi-professional. Still present, though, are those gentle brown eyes.

Nothing makes sense right now. Why is his kid here, in this apartment? Surely May wouldn't allow this. How many tenant laws does this place break? Where are his little sidekick friends? And on what planet would Peter Parker ever need a GED?

Tony's getting angry now, watching Peter move around the tiny space. He changes out of his costume and into pajamas. That spider suit isn't Tony's suit, it looks like cheap craft store fabric.

The kid opens a small freezer and pulls out the singular bag of peas that reside in there, pressing it against his ribs while he goes to pop some bread into a toaster.

Tony takes note of every glimpse he gains into Peter's life. Empty cabinets when he reaches for a jar of peanut butter. A fridge housing nothing but condiments and energy drinks when he goes to grab jam. A drawer with two spoons, no forks, and a paring knife which he pulls out and sticks into the strawberry jam jar just as the toast pops.

This is all so wrong.

Tony's outrage is coming to a rolling boil. Peter deserves the world- he was gonna give him the world. He couldn't wait to send Peter to MIT and show him off as his protégé. Tony was gonna fund his projects, tease him about pretty girls, maybe even see him step back from Spider-Man and act like a normal college kid. He wanted to see him flourish and grow up. It was all he could think about when Peter turned to dust between his fingers; he should be goofing off with his friends at a mathletes meeting, or building Legos, not fighting an intergalactic war.

Tony couldn't even conceive how much went wrong to end up here.

Alone. Broke. No school. He didn't even have his Stark suit to protect him. Everything that made him him has been stripped, leaving him in this shallow box with scuffed paint and hollow cabinets.

Tony can feel the violent rage burn deep in his spirit as he thinks about it.

This is why he's here. He can't let his boy live like this, wasting his potential to be some villain's punching bag. Where is everyone? Does no one care enough to stop this? The fury that builds in Tony is dangerous, wondering why a dead man is the only one who cares about the teen's life right now.

Without thinking Tony's hand reaches for the GED textbook, a mocking piece of work that laughs in his face, and throws it at the stupid little kitchenette that's mere feet from the bed.

It sails across the room with surprising speed before it's met with a thunk against Peter's palm, hand reaching out to catch it from the air before it collided with the toaster.

Oh.

Peter sets the book down and immediately picks up his web shooters, eyes darting furiously to every corner of the tiny apartment.

"Who's there?"

Tony steps a little closer but Peter's eyes just look right past him.

"C'mon Pete, c'mon. I'm here, I'm right here."

Tony looks for something else to grab. He swats at a hopefully empty coffee cup on the wooden desk, but his hand just passes right through it.

"Shit," the hope Tony felt waivers slightly and he tries again.

Nothing.

Peter is searching his apartment now, making sure the window is secure and feeling around every crevice, bookshelves, under the bed, in the top corners of the room. Searching for something nefarious, tech maybe.

Tony hits the cup, again and again, frustration building up and up and up till-

The cup flies across the room, Tony and Peter's eyes track its movements as it bounces against the ground and rolls to a stop.

"Shit," Peter breathes out.

Tony walks up to Peter now, standing before him.

"Figure it out. Think kid, you've met aliens, gods, magicians, surely ghosts aren't too far fetched."

Peter closes his eyes. His posture straightens, Tony watches him take a deep breath in as the hairs on his bare arms stand on end.

Peter's eyes blink open, and they're looking directly at Tony.

Tony smirks, "that's it."

Peter turns around and picks the cup off the ground, running to his desk with it and ripping a piece of lined paper out of a notebook and scribbling furiously on it.

Tony walks over as Peter places the cup in the center of the paper.

On the left is the word YES in bold print, NO on the right.

"Okay, okay okay. So, move the cup if, if you wanna talk. Um, is there someone in the room right now?"

Tony reaches for the cup, an intense glare as his fingertips graze it gently. It shifts minutely towards the YES.

"Shit! Shit. Sorry, whew. Okay. Are you friendly?"

Tony moves it to YES again.

"Are you a, um. Person? Like not an alien?"

YES.

"Are you wearing tech, invisibility suit or your molecules are uncalibrated or maybe it's a portal thing like, multiverse shit is happening again, a mirror universe! Oh, maybe a..."

Tony let's a frustrated sign. The kid is too practical, logical. He needs to think like a non-genius.

"... could be. Or, or maybe you're just a ghost-"

Tony perks up and immediately swats the cup, causing it to fly off the desk towards the YES.

"Oh. Oh that's... kinda normal. Or maybe really weird? I mean... I certainly have some ghosts in my past."

Peter picks the cup up and puts it back on the desk.

"Do I know you?"

YES.

"You said you were friendly, and I'm not getting any danger tingles from you. I'm gonna start with people I know are dead, cuz I just really hope you're not a... new ghost. Um. M-May?"

The boy's voice cracks on the word and Tony freezes. May is dead? Tony starts to fear that things are a lot more wrong than he previously thought.

Peter's breath catches and Tony realizes he's waiting, dying for an answer, and quickly pokes the cup towards NO.

Peter's shoulders sag.

"Uncle Ben?"

NO.

"T- Mr. Stark?"

Tony grins, "now we're getting somewhere!"

YES.

Tony is going to have his work cut out for him, but being here with Peter just feels right.

Peter breaks out into a matching smile.

"Wow, okay. I think I'm gonna need more paper," he says as the boy gets to work making a more complex system than YES and NO.

Tony watches on proudly, reminiscing about all the great Peter was and all the great he still is, despite his situation. Whatever this is, they'll figure it out.

Together.

#peter parker #tony stark #irondad and spiderson #spider man #iron man #marvel mcu #post no way home #peter parker angst

[alwritey-aphrodite]

"wow I really cant speak huh? must be how pretty you look" with tasm! Peter parker

Peter knows he’s not exactly the epitome of suave and charming. He’s a little awkward, lanky and clumsy despite his choice of extracurricular, and May says he still leaves the house without his clothes matching or ironed most days. Still, he can’t help but want to talk to you, even when he trips over his words and makes a fool of himself every single time.

“Hey, can I sit?” He asks, voice too loud for the quiet library as he gestures towards the empty chair across from you. There are plenty of extra seats, open tables scattered all throughout the room, but you’re like a magnet, and every time Peter sees you, he can’t help but make his way over.

“Go ahead,” you respond in the appropriate volume, with a smile that makes your eyes shine as he sets his bag down, backpack thumping against the floor and causing all eyes to settle on him once again. He’s quick to pull out his own supplies as you turn back to your open textbook, highlighter gliding across the page every few minutes. Peter gets no work done, but he really can’t be blamed because how is he expected to focus when you’re so beautiful when you’re concentrating? Terrified of being caught staring, he turns back towards his blank page and scribbles some nonsense, hoping you don’t think he’s a complete weirdo.

He’s so focused on trying to look like he’s busy without actually doing anything that he doesn’t notice when you shut your textbook and slide it into your bag, and he nearly jumps out of his seat in shock when you lean forward to tap your knuckles against the table.

“Wanna grab lunch?” You ask, leaning across the table to keep your voice down but all Peter can focus on is how pretty your hair looks, illuminated from behind like an angel.

“Yeah, sure, that would be awesome,” he struggles to form any sort of concise or cohesive sentence, but you smile anyway, leaving him to miss your proximity as you straighten up and haul your backpack onto your shoulder.

It really is a beautiful day, and it seems like the entire city is in a good mood, celebrating the end of winter and the beginning of warm weather and sunshine. It won’t last long, and soon everyone will be angry and rude and hot and miserable, but for now, the weather is perfect and people smile as you walk past.

“I’m so ready for this semester to be over,” you say as you tilt your head upwards, like a flower seeking out the sun, and Peter’s so enamored he almost forgets to respond, until you sneak a glance out of the corner of your eye, your lips quirked up in a teasing smile, something less soft but no less beautiful than the smile he typically receives.

“Oh yeah, me too,” he manages to reply, your knuckles brushing against his as you swing your arms while you walk.

“Any big plans?” This time you tilt your head towards him, and the full force of your attention is almost too much, almost enough to make Peter’s heart stop and his brain shut down. He doesn’t trust his brain to create a full, coherent response, so he just shakes his head, smiling as you reply, “Me neither,” before he even gets the chance to ask.

The two of you stop by one of the many cheap takeout restaurants near the library, grabbing your food and finding a bench to enjoy the weather, keeping your head tilted up to the sun as if it’s truly magnetic, as if you don’t have a choice but to bloom. Peter tries his best to be a good conversationalist, but he’s got so many thoughts and feelings swirling through his brain that every time he looks at you, or can feel you looking at him, he’s unable to respond the way he wants to.

“Wow, I really can’t speak, huh?” He asks rhetorically after stuttering over his words for what seems like the millionth time, “Must be how pretty you look.” He spares you a sideways glance, a little afraid to look at you fully, but he can’t help but grin when he sees your mouth open and close, silently attempting to form a response. He laughs and you follow suit, leaning against his side with the force of your giggles and sending him into a spiral all over again. You'd been on equal footing for a minute, but even as his heart pounds against his ribs and you straighten up again, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm peter parker #tasm fanfiction #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction

[shayyprasad]

skittles | peter parker

summary: peter likes to pick on your size.

warnings: ...short... shaming...? idk it's supposed to be an attempt at fluff

pairing: peter parker x short!fem!reader

word count: 0.67k+ words

peter parker loved you, no doubt, and he also happened to love making fun of you.

"ughhh, peter just give it to me!" you whined, reaching for the remote he held way up above you.

"what do we say when we want something?"

"give it to me or i'll snap your neck," you said, despite the fact the both of you knew it wasn't possible. but, hey, we're all for empty threats.

"mmm, close. but no."

"give!"

"being tall is so much fun."

"you've stooped down too far to be considered tall now."

"awww, wittle y/n is angwy!"

you gave him a warning stare, and he grinned in response. whining again, you tugged at his shirt. peter had the most smug look on his face, and you just wanted to slap it right off, "beg, shorty."

you gasped, "no! and i'm not that short! i'm- i'm... just below average."

"okay, okay. you're not short. you're," pete paused, thinking, before his eyes lit up, "you're fun-sized!"

"i'm sorry, what? how is that any better?!"

"aw, c'mon, that's adorable!"

"fun-sized!" you repeated, frowning. "how on any earth is that any better?"

"no, no, it's better! like- like... skittles!"

"...skittles? the candy?"

"well, yeah."

"the candy? did you just compare to to candy?"

"i guess. but, wait, if it's any consolation, you totally taste better."

"peter!"

"what?"

"give me the remoteeee. i wanna watch gilmore girls!"

"you've seen it a million times."

"boo-hoo. it's my turn."

he tsked, "okay. but you gotta get the remote first."

"peter, i swear i'll end your supply of kisses. for a lifetime."

the boy gasped, "you'd never, skittles."

"no. i don't like that name. i like 'angel'. call me that. not skittles."

"but it's so cute! and it fits!"

you simply glared at him. "so does angel!"

"meh. and it is," peter insisted.

"it most definitely is not."

"well, of course you don't like it. you're fun-sized."

"not. fun-sized. that's so much worse then being called half-pint! or oompa-loompa! actually, is it bad that i prefer pee-wee? or stumpy?"

"no, i think i like skittles."

"peteeeee. babyyyy."

"yes?" he asked, teasing.

"give me the damn remote," then after a second, "please?"

"hmmm-"

"you know what?" you said, tossing your hair over your shoulder, "no kisses."

"nah, you'd-"

"they've been revoked."

"but-"

"re-voked."

"ski-"

you snapped your head back at him, raising an eyebrow.

peter smirked, "skittles."

true to your word, you'd refused to kiss him the rest of that day and into the next. unfortunately for you, he was taking it great.

peter seemed to really like that nickname, but it didn't matter. you'd break him.

probably.

"skittles!"

you groaned loudly, muttering curses under your breath. from across the hall, you could see peter, a bright grin on his face. shoving things in your locker, you refused to give him any good attention.

who's skittles?

"not me," you muttered under your breath.

"hi," peter said, leaning in for a kiss, which you dodged. peter pouted, "still?"

"yes."

"oh, well. hey! i got you something!"

"ooh, really," you asked, breaking character.

he chuckled, "peace offering." peter tossed something at you, which you managed to catch. looking down at it, you groaned once again, glancing back up at his stupid face.

"seriously?" you asked.

it was a pack of fun-sized skittles.

"you likey?"

"no. me not likey." but since you were hungry, you tore the bag open. before you could get any, he grabbed some.

"hey! those are mine!"

peter plopped them in his mouth, "i gave them to you."

"exactly, so they're mine now!"

he opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue, "want them back?"

"ew, no!" you crossed your arms, "i'm telling may."

"oh, yeah? what'll she do?"

"ummm.... ground you."

"she can't ground me. i'm spider-man."

you smirked, eating an orange skittle. "remind me again, does she know that?"

"no- hey!"

"that's right." you stood in triumph, closing your eyes briefly. in that moment, catching you off-guard, he kissed you. forgetting momentarily of what you said you wouldn't do, you kissed him back, smiling lightly.

pete smiled, "tastes like skittles."

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #peter parker #spiderman #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #fluff #tom holland x you #peter parker drabble #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #marvel #the avengers

[soulscryer]

I get really sore bones in the winter months and I was wondering if you'd write TASM!Peter helping reader through it? Just a little comfort. Thank you. ❤❤

tasm!Peter Parker x gn!reader ༊ 1.4k

i get achy too, lovely. i hope this is comforting enough for you <3

It was difficult not to feel a little bit silly being in your twenties and seeing people in their fifties with better mobility than you. It sucked more to see people your age going out to clubs and parties, dancing without having to worry about how they'll get out of bed in the morning.

But then you weren't sure whether you wanted to go to parties or if you wanted to go because you couldn’t.

Peter had posed the question often while comforting you when you would see videos of people doing things you never would be able to do. Long bike-rides. Hikes through stunning scenery. Dancing. Getting dressed up and letting loose, the only consequence being due to how much alcohol was consumed.

But with every step the arch of your foot burned, your knee grinded, and your hip popped. You could already feel the beginning ache of it spreading up your back.

Your hand held tight to the bannister as you climbed the stairs to your floor, wishing that the landlord would get the elevator fixed. It was no surprise almost everyone in the building was young and able-bodied.

It was the same reason Peter insisted on finding you both a new place to live. He hated knowing that even leaving the apartment caused you pain. And that some of the residents were rude and would jostle into you when you passed them on the stairs, hurrying while you took a slower pace.

“Hey, baby,” Peter calls when you open the front door. “I was just about to come get you.”

His voice comes from the kitchen. Ordinarily, you’d toe your shoes off before going to find him but today you just can’t. The prospect of balancing on one foot to free the other sends a phantom pain through your leg so you don’t even try.

“Knew you wouldn’t get a taxi, figured I’d at least walk with you- oh, angel, is it bad?” His rambling comes to a halt when he sees you in the kitchen doorway, your bag slung over one drooping shoulder while you all but curled in on yourself.

He assesses the utterly miserable countenance on your face. Your lips were pressed together firmly and your eyebrows held an unbearable tension he wanted to smooth away with his thumb.

But at least he was there. His presence at least sparked a small feeling of warmth in your chest to combat the uneasy breaths breaking free.

“How was your day?” you ask bravely, looking him over.

“It was fine,” Peter dismisses. “How was yours? Do you want to sit down?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer as he moves forward, taking your elbow lightly to guide you out of the kitchen and towards the couch. He doesn’t let go until you’re sat on the cushions, moving to grab a cushion to shove between the arch of your back and the couch.

“My day was fine,” you murmur, leaning forward to make it easier to shove the cushion into the gap. “Quiet.”

Peter hums. “That’s good, we like quiet days.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “How was May?”

“She’s good, she missed you,” he tells you honestly, crouching down to be by your feet. As he talks he works on pulling off your shoes, holding your ankle steady in one hand when you wince. “Made us some soup and told me to make sure we both wrap up. It’s supposed to get a little colder soon.”

Suppressing a groan at the news you tilt your head to the side to watch him better. Soft brown curls fall across and around his face, haloing him perfectly. His hands are gentle yet sturdy where they hold you.

“These socks aren’t nearly warm enough,” he remarks, eyeing first the old pair you’re wearing that have a hole near the heel and then you.

“Sorry. They were the first ones I grabbed.”

Peter shoves his thumb under the hem of your jeans, thumbing at the skin above the cuff of your sock. You can’t help it when goosebumps break out along your skin at the contact, nor when you instinctively relax into his touch.

“I’ll wear warmer ones tomorrow,” you promise.

His eyes find yours and lock on them like a vice. “No, I’ll call out sick for you. You’re in too much pain.”

“I’ll be fine in the morning.”

Peter is kind enough to offer you a smile. “In the morning you’ll be achy and after a day on your feet, you’ll be in agony. You can stay home and recuperate for at least a day.”

You baulk at the ‘at least’ and Peter grins, leaning forward to press a kiss to your covered knee.

“Do you want a drink?” He asks, letting go of you to stand.

“Coffee?”

As he disappears into the kitchen again you can hear him opening a box. The one with the tea bags. Maybe it was hopeful to ask for coffee when you know you’ll need all the rest you can get tonight and caffeine would only interfere with that. Peter knows it too.

You smile when the scent of honey drifts through the apartment.

“Do you want a hot water bottle, angel?”

A cupboard door clangs as it’s opened and groans again as it's shut. If you could you would lean into the back of the couch to spot him in the hallway.

“It won’t help much,” you say, pressing your hands between your thighs in hopes of warming them and soothing the ache in your knuckles.

“Something is better than nothing,” Peter only says.

You lay your head back against the couch as much as you can without upsetting your posture while you listen to him rummaging about in the kitchen. Cups clink together and you can hear Peter pouring water into the hot water bottle, emptying it, before filling it again with hot water.

And despite it all, he’s fairly quiet in his movements.

It gives you time to settle into your bones. To take stock of all the different parts of you that scream out in hurt—to separate their loud cries into individual limbs.

“What time do you need to leave?” You ask quietly when Peter comes back into the living room, juggling two cups of tea and the hot water bottle under one arm.

He glances at you as he sets the cups on the coffee table. “I’m not going tonight,” he tells you.

“But who’s going to take care of the city?”

“The cops can try to earn their paychecks for one night. I have more important things to attend to.”

It’s hard not to fluster at his words. Harder when he throws you a saccharine smile.

“If I sit with you do you want to cuddle?” Peter asks, lowering himself slowly onto the other end of the couch. He’s put the TV remote on the arm of the couch at his back.

You study him more than you need to, having known the answer before he finished speaking. “Just give me a second,” you murmur.

He gives you more than a second. He's patient while you prepare yourself to move your body. Uncomplaining when you move slowly towards him until your torso slots over his, face in the crook between his neck and shoulder. Peter does the work to tangle your legs together.

A soft sigh drifts past your lips when he lifts your shirt to place the hot water bottle against your lower back. One hand remains to pressure it down into you.

“Good?” Peter breathes a laugh and you can tell he’s being careful to stay as still as he can.

“I love you,” you murmur, lips brushing against the side of his neck.

“Me or the water bottle?”

Your lips part to reveal your teeth in the first grin you’ve been able to muster all day. “Both. But you more.”

Peter’s free hand smooths over your hair as some show he’s put on the TV plays faintly in the background.

“Don’t fight sleep,” he instructs when your eyes flutter shut and you fight to open them again. “I’ll wake you before the tea gets cold, and then we can have a hot bath.”

“You’ll sit in there with me?”

“You won’t have to do a thing.”

You think you murmur something like a ‘m’kay’ but it's hard to tell with the fog that presses forward over your mind, dragging you under. All you can feel is warmth radiating out of the small of your back, Peter’s hand smoothing over every inch of you it can reach, and his lips in your hair.

He must be telling you something. You hope it's something lovely, and knowing him it’s more than that.

#tasm!peter #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker fic #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker x gn!reader #tasm!peter x gn!reader #tasm!peter parker x y/n #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter parker fluff #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter parker drabble #tasm!peter drabble #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x gn!reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x gn!reader

[hooked-on-elvis]

ELVIS interviewed during filming of 'Change of Habit'

— AMONG OTHER THINGS, YOU'LL LEARN ABOUT HOW ELVIS DID SOME IMPROVISATION IN HIS LINES FOR THE MOVIES AND HOW SELF CONSCIOUS HE WAS ABOUT HIS OWN FILMS

Filmed on location in the Los Angeles area and at Universal Studios during March and April 1969, Change of Habit was released in the United States on November 10, 1969.

Elvis Presley On Set: You Won’t ask Elvis Anything Too Deep?

Elvis talks, but he doesn't say much

BY WILLIAM OTTERBURN-HALL HOLLYWOOD – The notice outside the big grey double-doors was simple and to the point. SET CLOSED, ABSOLUTELY NO ADMITTANCE. You find notices like this outside a lot of film studios, and they tend to have a certain elasticity. This one, outside what looked like an aircraft hangar but was actually Stage D at Universal Studios, meant it. Inside, Elvis Presley was filming. And where Elvis goes, the barriers go up as if some sinister germ warfare experiment were being carried on within. Like a suckling infant, he is swathed and coddled against the realities of the world outside, as if he were made of rare porcelain rather than hewn from good old-fashioned Tennessee stock. But this day he was on show. I had been given the magic formula. The secret open-sesame known only by its brand name of “Colonel Parker’s Okay” had been handed me. The doors swung wide, and I was in. They say Colonel Parker is the man who built Elvis from the erotic gyrating days of the swiveling Pelvis through 14 long and fruitful summers to his present status, by pushing and pulling his protege through the tricky cross-currents of pop music taste. I wouldn’t know. I had asked to see him, this onetime Texas fairground barker, to thank him for the green light. But he was always somewhere else. In his office at Universal, over at Metro, down in Palm Springs, in Las Vegas to lay the trail for the next live show... always somewhere else. No matter. Who needed Colonel Parker when Elvis himself was alive and well and filming? The Publicity Man who escorted me as close as if he were handcuffed said proudly: “I’d like to work with him again, he’s so sweet and uncomplicated. I was surprised you got through – no one’s talked to him yet, you know. There must have been a good breeze blowing.” The good breeze continued to blow as far as the set. A mauve-walled pad with kitchen adjacent and a king-size bed visible through half-drawn yellow curtains. Elvis sat at a table, staring at his hands, while three mini-skirted girls, Mary Tyler Moore, Barbara McNair and Jane Elliott, scurried around with trays of food.

L-R: Mary Tyler Moore, Jane Elliott and Barbara McNair.

The film is about three nuns who pose as nurses to “identify with the people” in a Negro ghetto in New York. The title is Change of Habit (yes, it is) and stars Elvis as a medic who falls for one of the nuns. Elvis is wearing a paint-stained blue denim shirt and tight blue jeans. He looks relaxed and affable and rather meatier around the jaw-line than one remembers from previous films. Marriage (back in May 1967 to Priscilla Beaulieu) is obviously agreeing with him. His eyes have that smoky slow-burn of the old-time movie vamp. He seizes a guitar and strums a few chords. It’s the last week of shooting, and like the good days between exams and the end of term.

The atmosphere on the set is hip and loose, full of leather-clad youth and clever in-talk. The director is thin and intense, wears a check shirt and gym shoes, and is called Billy Graham, which is going to look interesting on the posters of a swinging nun. Elvis produces some dialogue. He is never likely to win an award as an actor, but he knows what the kids want and he gives it to them. The girls are talking about a party. The cameras turn. Elvis says: “You get a lot of people down here on a Saturday night, and all the old hates come out. Before you know it they’re bombed out of their skulls and you’ve got World War III on your hands.”

The scene is this one below. NO, it was not cut out during the editing of this movie.

Earth-quaking stuff. But this simple homespun philosophy is off-key. “Bombed out of their skulls” wasn’t in the script. And the director isn’t too happy about it. “It’s a good line,” says Elvis. “Okay, okay,” says Billy Graham. The line stays. Maybe it will come out in the cutting room, but it’s there for now. “The whole thing is downhill,” says a technician. “He don’t talk to anyone, except his own friends.” There is no sign of tension, but then Elvis has nothing to be tense about. He can go on churning out the same thing for another decade, and they’ll still queue to see it. If he’s over the top, as some unkindly souls occasionally try to make out, he doesn’t seem bothered. He is 34 . . . Raised in Memphis . . . Once a truck-driver, stumbled into records, took the world by storm as the original snake-hips . . . Now lives in cloistered seclusion in a colonial mansion near Nashville, with a Rolls, a solid gold Cadillac, a wife, a daughter (Lisa Marie, aged one) and several bodyguards for company . . . Has made 29 films, grossing 220 million dollars at the box office, and sold more than 200 million records.

Elvis Presley and director William A. Graham on the set of Change Of Habit (Universal 1969) between takes.

Elvis heads for his trailer in the far corner. A group of friends (known in some quarters as the Memphis Mafia) close around him like a football scrum after a loose ball. The code-word is given. I am beckoned over. The good breeze was still blowing. “You won’t probe too deep, will you?” The Publicity Man asks anxiously. “This is just an informal chat, that’s the deal. So keep it light and airy, okay?” Well . . . okay. I checked my notes. Does Elvis fly high on acid trips? Does he see himself as a prophet for the new generation? Does he think his style is too square? Does he have any sexual hang-ups? His marriage altered his attitude to life in any way? Does he kick his cat? Does he have a cat to kick? What are his views on pop, religion, hippies, demonstrators, Vietnam? Stuff like that. No, I wasn’t going to probe too deep. In the dressing room Elvis shakes hands in a firm grip. “This is Charlie, this is Doc.” Two small, burly men light leather jackets and open-neck shirts rise and shine briefly and subside again. The trailer feels a bit crowded.

Elvis Presley on the set of Change Of Habit (Universal 1969). Mary Tyler Moore, Elvis and director William A. Graham share a joke between takes.

Elvis talks. He speaks slowly and carefully, and puts a lot of space between his words. “The film? Uh, well . . . it’s a change of pace for me, yeah. It’s more serious than my usual movies, but it don’t mean I’m aiming for a big dramatic acting scene, no sir. The way I’m headed, I want to try something different now, but not too different. I did this film because the script was good, and I guess I know by now what the public goes for." “Most of the scripts that come my way are all the same. They’ve all got a load of songs in them, but I just did a Western called 'Charro', which hasn’t any songs ‘cepting the title tune. It did have a couple of nude scenes, but they’ve been cut. Anyhow, can you imagine a dramatic Western where the hero breaks out into song all the time?” He has said plenty, and now he leaps to his feet, hands flashing to imaginary holsters, and sings in a deep drawl: “Go for your guns . . . you’ve got ’til sundown to get outa town . . . ” It could be the start of a promising sketch. The others follow suit, singing, clowning, all on their feet. If this is the Memphis Mafia, they’re a friendly bunch.

Elvis on set of 'Change of Habit' (Universal 1969) talking to fans.

Elvis sits down, and everyone stops singing. He eyes himself in the dressing room mirror. “I don’t plan too far ahead, but I’m real busy for a while now. I’ve got a date in Vegas, and maybe another film after that. Then I’m going to try to get to Europe, because I’ve always promised I would and I’ve got some good, faithful fans over there.” Slow-talking Elvis may be. But he certainly isn’t the slow-witted hick from the backwoods his detractors make out. If he is, then he’s a better actor than they give him credit for. Get through to him, and you find a pleasant, honest, not-too-articulate hometown boy who has been protected for his own good from the hysterical periphery of his present world. The party was warming up. Elvis cracked a gag. Charlie cracked a gag. There was a call from the door. Elvis was wanted, and the good breeze was still blowing as he made for the set, one hand on my shoulder. Charlie and Doc were all smiles.

Elvis and his manager, Colonel Parker, on set of 'Change of Habit' (Universal 1969).

“Okay?” said the P.M. “You did real fine.” "Well . . . not quite." I said. "This Colonel Parker, would he be around for a word later?" Elvis stopped in his tracks. The P.M. went a whiter shade of pale, and whispered something to a friend. The friend nodded in sympathy. “I must tell you about an experience I had like that once,” he said, eyeing me as if I’d just crawled out of the woodwork. Elvis said: “I think he’s in Palm Springs. I’m not sure...” He hurried off. The P.M. said: “Don’t let’s push our luck any more. We never trouble him for too long a time. You should be very happy. You had more than anyone’s had in years.” Somewhere along the line, unaccountably, the good breeze had dropped. This story is from the July 12th, 1969 issue of Rolling Stone.

Source: www.rollingstone.com

#elvis presley #elvis movies #change of habit #mary tyler moore #barbara mcnair #jane elliott #1969 #60s movies #1969 movies #elvis articles #elvis interview #rolling stone magazine #vintage articles #vintage magazine

[fettuccin-e]

Prompt idea: spicy tasm!peter x afab!reader where peter puts his photography skills to use. Reader’s a lil shy but peter poses her and makes her comfortable. Not sure if the photos lead to sex or he gets inspired to do it during sex but could definitely go either way!

hello bestie yes!!! i needed to write a peter fic because i haven't in literally forever!!! i was really in the mood for fluff,, so this is kind of the fluffiest smut i've ever written bahahah i hope you enjoy!!

Tags: Peter Parker x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv, giggly sex, peter parker being a dork, taking copious amounts of nudes lol

Picture Perfect Moments

Peter hasn’t stopped kissing you since you both walked through the door of your apartment, grabbing desperately at your hips through your dress while you pull frantically at his tie.

It’s desperate and messy, as if it’s the last time you’ll ever have him, even though it never is. You try to work around each other’s lips, desperate to stay connected, hating the thought of having to break apart for even a moment. You have to crane your head up to meet Peter, your arms wrapped around his neck while walks you backwards. You’re too wrapped up in the feeling of his broad body against yours, his scent flooding your senses and the taste of his tongue against your own to even register that he’s managed to get you both into your shared bedroom. 

You squeak into Peter’s mouth as he pushes you to fall backward onto the bed, and Peter falls heavily on top of you, squishing you into the mattress. And you can’t help the giggle that flies out of your mouth, can’t help the elated smile that spreads across your face and against Peter’s mouth. Peter breaks from your lips to kiss down your cheeks and down your neck, seemingly unable to take his lips off your body for even a moment, and you’re suddenly wracked with giggles, your chest shaking and smile so wide you may burst. 

Peter breaks away from you with a soft grin not unlike your own. “What’s so funny?” he murmurs.

“I just,” you sigh. The elation is hard to put into words. The utter joy that fills your bones at the feeling of Peter Parker being yours. Only yours. And you’re his. You’re the one he tugs close to his chest as you walk along the sidewalk, it’s you he kisses at any opportunity. “I’m just so fucking happy, Peter,” you whisper, and hope that it’s enough. It always is, for Peter.

Peter’s smile is nearly blinding as he looks at you, pecking you once, twice on the lips before just hovering over you to stare. Your cheeks heat almost immediately, like they usually do when Peter looks at you like that. Peter couldn’t care less, though. Not when your cheeks are all flushed, your pretty eyes looking him like he’s hung the fucking sun. Not when your dress is so deliciously rumpled, the straps falling off your shoulders. An angel, just for him. 

“I like you when you’re happy, baby,” he whispers, and you giggle again. A strange look passes over his eyes, brief but noticeable, before he’s diving to meet your lips again. “Stay right where you are, okay?” he whispers against your mouth. You’re already nodding. You trust Peter. In any scenario, at any time or place, you trust him. He kisses you quickly again, soft and chaste, before he’s standing and bolting from your bedroom, leaving you panting and spread across the mattress.

You barely have any time to contemplate where the fuck he may be going before he’s back, standing in the doorway, staring at you with that same strange expression in his eyes.

He looks at you like you’re the answer to every question he’s ever had, like you’re the sun and the moon and the stars. Peter looks at you like you’re everything. You curl in on yourself under his gaze involuntarily, causing Peter to finally suck in a breath, as if he hasn’t even been breathing.

“This is… this is gonna sound weird, okay?” he mumbles, and you nod, trying to encourage him. “Can I,” he sucks in another breath, rubbing at his eyes with one of his hands, and you suddenly realize that he’s holding his camera in the other. “Do you think I could take some pictures of you? You just look so,” he kneels up onto the bed, leaning over you to kiss you softly on the cheek. “So fucking beautiful like this.”

Oh.

You giggle again, incredulous, and Peter smiles, before you wind a hand into his hair and tug his mouth onto yours. “Don’t you look at me enough as is, Peter?” you mumble between kisses.

“Never,” he says, and the utter vehemence in his voice makes you laugh harder. He leans back while you’re mid laugh, raising his camera to snap a few pictures. You’re practically glowing in the lamplight, Peter thinks. The curve of your smile plumps your cheeks, makes your eyes crinkle at the corners. He takes another picture, then another.

Then the temptation of the strap falling off your shoulder is far too much for him to bear. He lays his camera next to your head for only a second, leaning down again to trail kisses down the line of your neck and over your shoulder, using his free hands to drag the straps and the top of your dress down your body, leaving the fabric to pool around your waist and your bare tits exposed to him. He blinks up at you dumbly, and you run a hand through his hair.

“A bra wasn’t going to work with this dress,” you say, answering his unspoken question.

“Thank god for that.”

You barely have time to laugh at that statement before he’s on you again, kneading one of your tits in his hand while his mouth goes to a nipple, sucking it into his mouth. He licks at it greedily before moving to the next, leaving your chest achy and puffy. Peter could spend hours licking and biting at your pretty tits, littering the skin with bite marks and bruises, but with the way you’re mewling, your hips bucking under him, he knows that there are other parts of you that need attention.

You whine when Peter leans back to grab his camera again, raising over you to snap another few photos of you, with your nipples all puffy and hair mussed. 

“Push ‘em together for me baby?” he asks, softly, and you only hesitate a moment before you’re pushing your hands under your breasts, plumping them up for the camera. Peter curses under his breath, and you can hear the shutter of his camera whirring as he takes photo after photo. Your chest fills with a little bit of confidence at Peter’s unwavering gaze. Peter never fails to make you feel like the most beautiful, sexy thing in the damn world, even if you sometimes don’t believe it yourself.

You let go of your tits, moving your hands down to push at the dress surrounding your waist, hooking your thumbs into your panties as you go. Peter leans off of you to give you room as you raise your hips off the bed, slowly shoving the fabric off your body in a way you hope is sexy. And judging from Peter’s sharp intake of breath and the quick clicks of his camera, it definitely is.

Soon, you’re completely bare under Peter’s gaze and camera lens. It feels oddly vulnerable, even though Peter has absolutely seen you like this before, naked and completely desperate for him. Still, goosebumps erupt over your body, your legs coming up in a feeble attempt to be modest.

Peter pulls the camera away from his face. 

“Please don’t hide from me,” he murmurs, reaching a hand forward to brush it over your cheek and down to your chin, tilting your face up until you meet his eyes. “You have no idea how gorgeous you look right now.”

You’re pretty sure that your blush is going to burn you alive at this point.

The hand on your chin moves down, down, as Peter shifts further to the bottom of the bed, camera still clutched in his other hand. His long fingers trail between the valley of your breasts, over your heaving stomach, and right down to the apex of your thighs.

You jolt hard when his finger brushes over your clit, whining high in the back of your throat. Suddenly, the throbbing of your pussy is unbearable, aching and needy.

“Peter, please,” you whimper, but Peter just shushes you gently. Wordlessly, he lifts the camera up to his eyes again, and slowly spreads the lips of your cunt apart with those long, dexterous fingers. 

The shutter of the camera clicking seems to echo throughout the room.

Then Peter’s setting the camera down and diving forward. You want to fucking scream as he licks a long, wide stripe up your slit, groaning as he does. He licks his tongue maddeningly around your sticky clit before sucking it into his mouth.

“Oh fuck, Peter, Peter,” you whine, your thighs quivering beside his head, but Peter is lost to it. He sucks and licks at your clit while the hand that was once holding that damned camera traces up the inside of your thigh. He inches one of his long fingers into your cunt, and he reaches so fucking deep, just with his hand. So much deeper than you can. 

Your hips are twitching, undulating into Peter’s face as you tug at his hair. It has to hurt, just a little, but Peter doesn’t seem to mind. He seems perfectly content to just eat your pretty cunt for hours. He slides a second finger into you with barely any resistance from your needy cunt, scissoring them open. He crooks them upward periodically between stretching you, pressing into your g-spot, and you have to remind yourself how to fucking breathe.

You’re babbling, unthinking and desperate. “Fuck me, oh god, please Peter. Please fuck me, need you in me so bad, can’t breathe without you inside me, oh Jesus, Peter I-“

Peter breaks his mouth from your clit to climb slowly up your body, his fingers still buried deep inside you. “Okay, okay baby, I hear you.” The loss of his fingers makes you mewl, but you still keep your thighs spread apart for him while he strips for you.

Peter isn’t graceful, not in the slightest, and his desperation to get naked makes it even worse. He manages to strip off his shirt, shoves off his shoes without a whole lot of struggle, but you can’t help your snort of laughter when he nearly trips while getting his pants and boxers off. He has to catch himself on the bedside table when he nearly faceplants on the carpet, and smiles boyishly at your soft laughter. 

He’s still smiling and you’re still laughing at him when he climbs up onto the bed again, this time blissfully naked.

“Think my misery is funny, huh?” He murmurs through his grin, kissing under your jaw as he settles between your legs.

“As if you could possibly be miserable when you’ve got a fresh stash of my nudes, Parker.”

“Hm,” he chuckles, “y’know, you’ve got me there.”

And then he’s pushing in, and you can’t do anything but gasp wetly, digging your nails into his broad shoulders as he bullies you open around his thick cock. 

“Shit, always so tight,” he mutters, drawing his hips out and shoving himself back in.

Peter ruts into you like he can’t seem to pull himself away, barely drawing his cock out of you before plunging himself back in. He drapes his heavy body over yours, comforting and warm, while his cock breaks you apart.

“S’big, you’re so fucking big, Peter,” you slur, delirious and stupid.

“Taking it so well for me baby, you always- fuck, you always take me so well. ‘S like this pussy was made for me, yeah? Were you made for me, gorgeous?”

“Just for you, god, Peter I-“

“I know, baby, doin’ so good for me.”

The tip of Peter’s cock is grinding maddeningly into your sweet spot, over and over and over, and you don’t even know if Peter is trying to, just that he is. The knot in your stomach is just getting tighter, unbearable.

“Gonna, I’m gonna cum Peter, oh fuck,” you whine, and Peter clutches at your hands, pinning them over your head.

“C’mon, baby, c’mon,” Peter mumbles, rutting into you faster, faster.

You can’t tell if you scream when you cum, your ears are ringing too loud for you to tell. You can blearily see Peter above you, his eyes clenched shut, gasping as he comes inside of you, filling you up.

The room is hazy and dreamlike as you clutch onto each other, breathing against each other and waiting for the world to feel real again. Peter nuzzles his face into your hair, letting the scent of your shampoo consume him while you trace shapes into his back. After a few minutes, he lifts his head and blinks down at you, and you meet his gaze with a soft smile.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers.

“Hey handsome,” you whisper back.

He kneels up and off of you, soft cock slipping out of your used pussy. You nearly cringe at the feeling of his cum starting to leak out.

Peter shuffles away, and you watch him grab his camera again. You can barely feel your legs, let alone shut them, before Peter angles his camera lens between them.

He uses a hand, once again, to spread you apart for him, giving him a clear view of the mess he’s made of you.

The camera clicks several times, and you giggle again, your brain still scattered. You resign yourself to delirium. With Peter Parker, it's hard to be anything other than delirious.

#tasm peter smut #peter parker x y/n #tasm peter parker #tasm peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman smut #spiderman x reader

[robins-egg-bindery]

ever in your favor by @iron--spider

Peter startles awake when someone shakes him. 

“Sorry, honey,” May says. Peter blinks a couple times and she comes into focus, her hair pulled back from her face. She’s trying not to look a certain way, but he can see it in her eyes anyway. She clears her throat, keeps talking. “But it’s…” She glances away, wets her lips. “You gotta get ready.”

He remembers what day it is, and his heart beats like a drum at someone’s execution. But he tries to put on a mask, make it all seem normal. It’s everything but, despite the fact that he’s been dealing with reaping day since he was born, between himself, Ben and May. That fear that one of them could be taken away. Sent to surefire slaughter. But now Ben is gone, taken despite never having his name drawn from a bowl, and May’s finally safe. Now Peter’s name is in there alone. The last Parker sitting on the chopping block. He doesn’t know how to be. He doesn’t know what normal is, when the Hunger Games are looming on the horizon.

fic by @iron--spider

art by @angel-gidget

624 pages / 153,984 words

Title Font: PP Hatton, Rustic Printed

Body Fonts: Californian FB, Moonglade, Bebas Neue, War Is Over, Architects Daughter

More on the process below the cut!

I have...SO much to say about this project! This fic was one that I've wanted to do ever since I started fanbinding, and it was one I saved until my technical skills caught up with my vision for the book. @iron--spider is my favorite author and a wonderful friend, and I wanted to be able to do this masterwork justice!

Given that it's a Hunger Games AU, I wanted to touch on the Hunger Games aesthetic while still being unique. I started with the cover; I knew I wanted red and yellow, something bold and evocative of the Iron Man, Spiderman vibe. It also doubles as an implication of the blood spilt during the games, especially in volume II - when Peter actually enters the games. I chose the spider for the cover, and painted it on the cover paper with inky black paint; I cut a stencil, and while the images did have some drippy areas, I don't mind it so much. It's meant to look like graffiti, Peter's symbol that the people of the Districts scrawl everywhere they can get away with it.

In turn, I also experimented with a paint pen on this one of the titling, done on the spine piece, which is black Better Than Goat leather! Again, I went in with a stencil, and opted for blockier letters, like something you might see spray painted onto a wall.

The endpapers are custom; I messed around with a weird cityscape I found and came out with the image you see above. The setting for the games is a futuristic city, much like MCU NYC would be, complete with an Avengers Stane tower.

And then of course, there's the typeset itself! The Hunger Games books don't have particularly striking typesets, but I did go for the dystopian vibe with the Rustic Printed font on the chapter numbers, and Moonglade for the chapter titles, giving it a very industrial feel.

It was also a pleasure to include the art that @angel-gidget did for the fic as well! Her book covers are so gorgeous and I love her manip style so much <3 I also included the short drabble @iron--spider did on her Tumblr, a post-story snack-sized fic, as well as a meta question she answered via her asks that I thought was particularly interesting. The District guide at the back, including what Districts each character belongs to and whether or not they are deceased was interesting to put together, and I hope I didn't make any mistakes!

Last, but certainly not least, this book was the first one I was able to do really nice headbands on. Shoutout to @morningstarbindery who helped me learn how! They look phenomenal and I never would have figured it out on my own <3

I'm excited for everyone to see these books! One day I'll have all your works on my shelf ;)

#fanficbinding #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic bookbinding #fanfic binding #fanbinding #fanfiction bookbinding #ficbinding #fic binding #fanficbookbinding #renegadepublishing #me myself and i #marvel #irondad #irondad and spiderson #spiderson #spiderman #peter parker #mcu #tony stark #iron man

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

as it was

pairing: peter parker x sister!reader

WC: 3K

warnings: small mentions of anxiety, maybe some cursing, just no way home angst. there is no physical description of reader, so you could read this as adopted!reader or however.

summary: you feel like there’s something missing from your life when may dies. you just aren’t sure what that thing is.

A/N: i started this april 11, 2022. something just came upon me to start writing for this draft again. i dont live in nyc so ignore all directions. my own gif (that’s why it’s shit)

@alecmores my editor💗

been in the drafts since march 25

masterlist

You were sitting in front of her grave.

The cold chill of New York winter settles into your bones. The trees were barren of any leaves with autumn having left a few weeks ago, no snowfall yet thankfully. The grass has been freshly cut along with some watering causing you to sit in a bit of wet grass, at least your coat was taking the moisture.

You brought some new flowers, just some simple white roses. The other flowers have been slowly wilting since your last visit, and you never want to have dead flowers resting with Aunt May’s grave.

As you replace the flora you sit back on the ground with the wilting stems staying in your hands to keep you from fidgeting around and picking the grass as you talk to her. You try to visit once a week, but sometimes you can only come twice a month because it will just hit you really hard one day that you have no one left, no immediate family anymore. The closest you have to any type of family is Happy Hogan, MJ, and Ned, which is kind of weird because when you think of your memories that involve the three of them, something is missing, a piece of a puzzle that won’t fit in its place.

“How are you today, may?” The wind just blows the hair around your face in different directions.

“I started to work at the Peter Pan cafe with MJ. Sometimes we have shifts together, but honestly, it’s kinda rare since it doesn’t get too busy there. The boss is an older man who’s lazy and has a snippy attitude for no reason, but it's an easy job. Don’t have to worry about my anxiety kicking in.” You stared down at your gloved-covered hands that clutched your crossed legs. Your lips rolled together as you let the silence cover you, thinking of what else to mention.

“Uh… Happy. Happy- he misses you, I miss you. He- uh… he took me in, unofficially adopted me. I’m thankful for him cause if I had to do all this- this, I don’t know, just I’m thankful he took pity on me and didn’t leave me to the wolves. MJ and Ned said they would’ve taken me in, but I think they just said it out of friendliness.” You shrugged your shoulders at the thought.

You perked your head up and glanced around the cemetery. Dozens of headstones, some having more grandeur stone carvings with angels or whatever. Fallen autumn leaves tumbled and kicked across the grass, sticking to trees or headstones before a breeze pushed them away and further off. It seemed you were the only person visiting a loved one at the moment, you wished someone accompanied you, but you liked being with May by yourself.

“Oh, uh, school. Probably want to know about school. I- I- I think I’m gonna take a gap year. Process and readjust to everything and I know if I was doing school I wouldn’t give my all and I don’t want to let you down. Plus, I need money and so I’ll probably need to work a few jobs- wanna help Happy with bills so he doesn’t feel stuck with me.”

A puff of air left your lips as you rubbed your arms up and down your biceps to get a good warmth back into your bones so you could stay longer. With a lick to your lips and a furrow to your brow, you hesitantly spoke a thought that’s been sitting on your tongue for a while, only feeling brave to speak them towards May.

“Ever since you- since you left… something has felt… off. I- I don’t even know what feels off, just that I’m missing something- someone in my life. But I don’t have anyone else. Mom and dad were gone too soon for me to remember their faces, Ben passed away a few years ago and then all I had was you. May... you’ve been my mom, you are my mom. And- and when the blip happened and we came back, that was the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced. Feeling like you were gone for only a minute but then people are telling you that it’s been five years and half the population turned to dust… but you came back and I felt safe again. And we got back into some normal groove again. And then hearing that you got into an accident and were killed-” your throat started to choke with restrained tears, “I’ve never been more scared in my whole life.”

You let a cry free before pulling yourself back in, wanting to continue your rant, “but, what I’m trying to get at… something feels out of place. I feel like someone is missing from the giant picture, memories feel like they’ve been edited- cutting out that person from our life, my life. Memories with MJ and Ned feel weird, and memories with Happy feel weird as well. Like trying to think about how the two of you met… something is burned away. I- I don’t know, probably just trying to find something to focus on.”

Your eyes met the dark stone, the words May Parker engraved with her date of birth and death. Your shoulders sagged, you were just talking to air about a nagging thought. Should probably look into getting therapy.

“I should start heading back, Happy’s probably worried about me.” You dusted your jacket and pants clean of any grass, might have a few wet spots soaking the fabric.

You stuffed your hands into the jacket pockets and just stood, not making an effort to leave just yet. There was a crunching of leaves that soon filled the quiet and you didn’t think anything of it, it could have been another visitor or Happy who came to visit and take you home, which happened a few times already. But when you looked in your periphery, it wasn’t someone at another grave and it wasn’t Happy. It was a boy.

Out of curiosity, you turned your head enough to get a proper look at the new arrival. You eyed him from head to toe, never seeing him around before. He looked to be about your age, just a teenager. A beanie covered his head, he wore a blue puffer jacket with a few stripes at the top with simple jeans and sneakers, nothing standing out. But there was just something about him…

“How did you know May?” The mystery boy spoke. It took you off guard, “huh?” Was all that came out. He cleared his throat and jerked his chin, again, “how- uh- how did you know May?” He turned to you before turning away.

“Oh, she- she was my aunt. Well, my mom really. Lived with her when I was young.” You stopped there and it was silent. You counted to five before asking, “how did you know her? If I may ask?” Your manners popping in.

The boy was quiet, eyes set on her name. He sniffled then wet his lips, “feast. I knew her from feast. She was- she was nice, always kind to everyone. She was like the mother I never had. I’m glad you had her as family.” His voice cracked on the word family, something you noted but didn’t push for further.

“Yeah. She was always looking out for the little guys.” A smile to your lips. “Was it just the two of you?” The boy asked then backed tracked, “only if you feel comfortable saying. Sorry, it just- it just slipped.”

You looked at the boy. He wasn’t fidgeting, but you could tell from his eyes that he was nervous about something. Your eyes just wandered over him, sure it may seem rude but you couldn’t help it. It was like a magnet was pulling you and you couldn’t resist the hold it had on you. You thought about lying to this stranger, but you didn’t. “Yeah. Well, it wasn’t always just the two of us. She had a husband, his name was Ben, and he’s buried in his home state. But he got shot during a robbery about… a decade ago… blip time difference is weird.” You mumbled off, realizing he died five years ago for you but with your dusting, that added an extra five. The boy agreed with a light chuckle, it warmed you.

“What about you? Any family still with you?” Bouncing back on his question.

His eyes drooped a slight frown on his face, “uh…no. No family, just me.” His eyes caught yours before, once again, looking away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ “Oh! No, it’s- it’s fine. I was asking the questions first anyway.”

You rolled your lips as you swayed on your feet. Neither of you decided to speak, just stood beside each other as you stared at the headstone and listened to the leaves falling. You wanted to look at the boy again but withheld yourself from doing so.

“I should- I should head home. But it was nice to meet you…” you trailed off hoping he’ll present his name. “Peter… Peter Parker.” He held a smile at the last name.

“Huh, funny coincidence. I’m (Y/n), Parker obviously.” You bid Peter a smile goodbye and turned your back to make your walk to the subway.

“Hey! Uh (Y/n)!” You heard the shouts and the crunching of leaves beneath his feet as he hurried to catch up with you. You stopped your steps and looked at Peter as he stopped a few steps away.

“Do you… do you take the subway?” “Yeah…”

“Do you mind if I walk you? I just- I would just feel a lot better knowing you made it safely plus I think May would… sorry- sorry. Only if you want, of course, I mean you just met me and-“

You stepped closer and touched his arm, “hey, it’s fine. I would like the company. Plus, it’s just the subway, you’re not walking me to the front door.” You shrugged at the end before nodding your head to the iron gates.

-

The two of you traveled down the busy and packed streets of New York. Shifting and turning your bodies so you didn’t bump into anyone, especially someone who wasn’t in the right mood that day. The walking was quiet at first, two strangers who just met and didn’t know what boundaries were already drawn. You kept making glances at Peter beside you before looking away, at the sky or the buildings around you.

“Are you in school?” Peter was the first to ask, once again. You were thankful he took the first steps.

“Oh, well I’m eighteen so I’m about to graduate high school. And I was planning to go to college, out of state or in state, not sure. But after May… I’m taking a gap year. Want to get my bearings first before I focus back on school… How’s your academic future?” You eyed him as he watched you talk.

“Uh, well I’m eighteen as well. And something happened during the school year so I kinda have to start senior year over again. I was planning to go to MIT for college, but that’ll just have to wait.” He scratched his nose before stuffing his hand back into his jacket pocket.

“Another coincidence. Two of my friends are going.” You saw the smile Peter tried to hide from your comment.

“Do you have a job, Mr. Parker?” Already giving joking nicknames.

You didn’t notice the stiffness to his shoulders or the sadness that glazed over his eyes before stuttering, “uh, I’ve applied to a- a few different jobs. Kinda hard- not a high school graduate so my options are limited. Gotta look for the desperate places.”

“But those are kinda sketchy. Not the safest.”

His attention was on you, “yeah, well, I can handle myself.” He nudged your arm and pulled a smile from you as you shook your head. “What about you? Any sketchy jobs?”

“Not sketchy, just boring and quiet. I work at a small café with my friend. An easy job since I have anxiety.” You keep your answers vague with enough detail.

Silence came back around. Cars honking and people talking to each other or over the phone. Couples holding hands or looped around each other.

“Anyone special in your life?” Was your first question to come to mind.

You weren’t sure if the flush was due to the low temperature or the abrupt question towards Peter, who’s still a stranger, about if he was seeing someone.

“No, no. I- I had someone, but she left me. For the best, I think.”

“Why is that? Secretly with the mob or something?”

He laughed, “Nah, nothing like that. Just… I'm broken and a mess. Don’t want her dealing with… all that.” He made a circling hand gesture. You just hummed.

You weren’t paying much attention to your surroundings so you didn’t see the group of kids running and pushing into everyone coming your way. So with a tight hold on your bicep and a yank, you yelped and looked around. Peter pulled you behind him and you followed his eyes as you watched the kids pass as they shouted and yelled.

“Stupid kids.” You muttered before continuing your walk. “Thank you, for pulling me.” “Oh, it’s nothing.”

You were only a block or two away from a station.

“What about you?” “What about me?” “Anyone special?” He had a playful tone to his words. You just shrugged your shoulders.

“I’ve never been anyone’s first choice. I stick more to the shadows anyway, used to get bullied, so I keep my head down and mouth closed,” you looked to see if he was listening, and he was, “also, I’m kinda a hopeless romantic. Romance books, love songs; especially Taylor Swift's love songs, and a few rom-coms. Anyway, what I’m saying is that, no. No one special, probably not for a while. But maybe that’s okay, maybe I’ll find ‘the one’ when it’s time.”

Peter didn’t respond to your words. You smacked a hand over your face.

“What? What’s-“ “I just spilled my random thoughts to you, who’s still a stranger.”

You pulled your hand away and ran your fingers through your hair before moving it to your pocket for warmth. You looked at Peter and you were just full-on staring, eyes roving over his side profile or his face if he looked your way before facing forward. A tilt of your head came up.

“You know… maybe it wasn’t a coincidence.” You kept looking at Peter. “What wasn’t?” His eyes were on his feet.

“Meeting each other.” And you looked away just as Peter almost tried over his feet even as he watched every step. You kept walking, not aware of the cogs turning in Peter’s mind as he processed your words.

“What- What do you mean? How isn’t this a coincidence? I think it was just lucky timing.”

You threw a hand out as you talked, “What I mean is… maybe May sent you this way. Two people she knew and cared about, both lonely and without a family around. Plus come on, your last name is Parker. That's just crazy. I don’t know, just- it’s just crazy!”

You smiled at the boy as you crossed the street and walked down the crowded and smelly stairs leading to the subway. You checked to see if Peter was still with you and when you saw he was pushed back by a few people, you moved to the side and waited for him to meet your side. You flashed a smile when he reappeared and you both continued on your walk toward the entrances. You checked to see if any cops were around and seeing none you hopped over the spinning entrance, Peter a second behind.

“What train do you take?” “A train, you?” “F for me.”

You thought this meant that the two of you would split up, but Peter walked with you and stayed by your side as you waited for your train to arrive. You checked your pockets to make sure you had your phone, wallet, keys, and headphones, along with your taser and pepper spray that Happy bought for you. You texted Happy that you were waiting for your train and should be home within the hour.

After about thirty-five minutes you heard the screeching of wheels on tracks and saw the lights glow into the station. You turned to Peter with a smile, “well, looks like my ride's here.” He nodded at your words and he opened his mouth and then closed it. You stayed back seeing if he’ll say the words on his mind.

As the train got closer and he didn’t say anything you decided to be the first to speak. “Would it be okay if I get your number? I- I know we just met, but… you seem like a good friend.” You cringed a bit, it was almost like a terrible pickup line. And you weren’t hitting on him, it just felt gross to even think that.

“Yeah, yeah. I’d love to have a friend.” Peter stopped your worrying thoughts. You passed him your phone and then he passed it back before pulling his out and showing a text on his home screen.

You started towards the open doors and passed the rushing people and with a quick turn, you called out to Peter and he looked your way waiting to hear what you needed to say before you let the subway whisks you away.

“Stop by feast when you can. We can always use the extra hands and May would be thankful.” And before you got any reply you walked further into the metal tub and took a seat, sticking an earbud in and pressing play on an album you’ve had on repeat.

Already planning to visit May tomorrow after your morning shift to talk about your new friend. And Peter would keep watch from a distance and when you left he would speak with May quietly. Promising her that he’ll keep you safe and be your friend, maybe not your brother never again, only in his mind.

…

#peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker x (y/n) #peter parker x female reader #peter parker x sister!reader #peter parker x sibling!reader #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #spider man homecoming #spider man far from home #spider man no way home #mcu reader insert #mcu imagine #mcu fanfiction #mcu #spider-man #spider-man imagine #spider-man fic #spider-man fluff #spider-man angst #spider-man x reader #spider-man x fem!reader #tom holland #tom holland imagine

[backtothefanfiction]

tasm!Peter x Nurse Reader

You cannot tell me post everything with Gwen when he felt able to date again (when May talks him into it), that Peter Parker wouldn’t end up with a nurse. Someone who knows the pressures of saving lives. Able to patch him up when his wounds are a little too deep and gonna take longer to heal. Someone who also works late nights so wouldn’t be bothered if he was out late on patrol…

Imagine this…

It’s Christmas a couple years after the incident. After completing her training Aunt May now puts in shifts at the hospital. She’s gone out with a few other Nurses for Christmas drinks. Peter comes to collect her as it’s late. That is when he gets introduced to you.

You are politely waiting with May until her Nephew turns up so you have your own peace of mind she will get home safe. From the way she talks about him when you work the ward together, you are expecting some nerdy guy who couldn’t get out of his parents basement, not… well, Peter.

You make polite introductions, May introducing you to each other. “Y/N this is my nephew Peter, Peter this is Y/N they work on the ward with me.”

Peter is enamoured by you immediately. Not only does he find you attractive but you also care for his Aunt and he assumes you provide the same care for your patients.

You part ways, but that won’t be the last time you see each other.

Peter keeps an eye out for you now, whenever he goes to meet May from work. You exchange small talk. He realises you work the late shift often, meaning you’re only just starting as his Aunt is finishing.

He starts spending his nights thinking of you working at the same time he is. Wonders if you’ve ever had to patch up any of the guys he’s ended up sending to the hospital over the years.

It doesn’t take May long to recognise that Peter likes you. “Ask her out already?” “What no?”

He ends up running back inside the hospital to ask you out.

You end up having a coffee date and a walk around Central Park. Conversation is easy and Peter is starting to think Gwen may have sent you to him from the great beyond because all of this felt so easy, it had to be fate.

You’ve been dating a couple months when he shows up on your doorstep with a massive gash in the side of his arm. He’d managed to get caught around a metal cable and the wound was too deep for him to heal without a little help but he knew he couldn’t just walk into the nearest hospital.

You patched him up, minimal questions asked, until you woke up next to him the following morning and his arm was almost healed. He had to come clean.

You were accepting at first. You had always admired Spider-Man and how he helped the people of the city. Protected them from the big bads and the little ones. But when Peter starts getting too comfortable around you and showing up with one too many careless injuries you start to become more and more guarded.

You find yourself checking the news app on your phone way too often. You walk into patients rooms when the news is on to watch and make sure he’s being safe.

When he comes home with 3 bullet wounds for you to patch up, one of the bullets still in his body, you realise enough is enough. “I can’t do this any more Peter.” It’s the hardest things you’ve had to do. You promise to keep his secret but dating him is too hard and for your own sanity you need to go your separate ways.

Peter reluctantly agrees to your wishes but it kills him inside. He realises he got to comfortable. Too attached to this idea you were his angel sent by Gwen that you’d put up with anything and always be there. When you’re not, Peter struggles.

He goes out looking for more fights to punish himself. Looking for bigger bads to battle hoping the victories and admiration from the crowds will fill the void inside him.

That is until he comes up against the biggest bad and his most challenging fight yet. And somehow there you are. As if by magic. As if you really are sent by Gwen, placed in the right place at the right time.

He’s so broken, on the verge of death. The bad guy got away while he lay broken in the street. Crowds gather around him. Their beloved Spider-Man is bleeding out and practically dying on the street in front of them and they have no idea what to do.

You had seen everything. It was awful. All you could do was watch on helplessly as if Peter was a dogs play thing. The man, or was it a creature, picked him up like he weighed nothing and threw his body down the street. The roof of a car caved in with the force of it as he landed on top of it, the windows crushed with the force.

Peter had managed to roll himself off the car but he staggered and stumbled, his arm wrapped protectively around his side as he stumbled down a side street. You saw the crowd begin to gather around him as you raced down the street to get to him.

You pushed your way through bodies to get to his unconscious body. You give him a quick check over as you fall to your knees. “Give them some space” you hear someone call out, ushering the crowd back a bit as you realise you’re gonna need to do CPR. You begin doing chest compressions, your hands folding over the spider emblem now torn across his chest. “Come on Pete.” You mumble as you push down, your head counting out the beats on autopilot as your training took over. You lift his mask just enough to reveal his mouth and nose as you begin to give him mouth to mouth. You don’t even know how long you keep doing that, back and forth between the two when he suddenly takes a deep breath in.

The crowd cheers around you but you are only focused on one another. And just like that it’s like the last few weeks of your break up never happened.

After resting in your bed a couple days, Peter is better equipped and healed enough to finish what he started. After that he promises to stick solely to friendly neighbourhood stuff as much as possible. And he’s good to his word for the most part.

You fall into a good routine together. When you work nights, he goes on patrol. On your nights off, you both stay in watching movies in your small apartment whilst eating ice cream and pizza.

A year later Peter is asking for Aunt May’s ring to ask you to marry him. It’s a simple engagement story. He swung you both up to the top of the Empire State Building and did the Spider-Man equivalent of getting down on one knee. He slowly lowered himself down upside down with the ring in hand before you. He’d barely gotten the words out before you were crying and shouting “Yes, Yes, YES!”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm!peter imagine #the amazing Spider-Man #Peter Parker x nurse reader #andrew!peter imagine #andrew garfield peter parker #andrew!peter parker #mcu #andrew garfield!peter parker imagine #Spider-Man #tasm!peter x nurse!reader #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter x reader

[lokislittlemidgardian]

Hii ! Are you please able to write one where it’s caregiver! Peter Parker x little!reader where they’re at home together and reader regresses? You can pick any reason for it. I just think would be very comforting for me. Love you <3

There she is!

Content - age regression, cg!peter, accidental regression, Robbie the reindeer, dummy use, soft toys, cuddles, aunt may being a sweetheart, bottles, pure fluff, not proofread, don't like don't read.

Summary - one afternoon you get really relaxed and you regress.

Authors note - please tell me I’m not the only one who still watches Robbie the reindeer, a bit of a short one but I really love this, I know Robbie the reindeer is considered more of a Christmas thing but I still watch it anyway, hope you enjoy <3

“Why won’t you ever watch it with me?” You complained looking up at your boyfriend with puppy dog eyes “because it’s awful, it’s not even entertainment how do you like it baby” Peter chuckled getting up from the sofa and selecting an old DVD.

“It is entertainment!, how can honestly say that it isn’t? It’s got drama, suspense, heartbreak and attractive men and women” you stated with a cocky look on your face.

“Y/N I am not watching love island with you” he exclaimed with a grin on his face “how about we compromise with Robbie the reindeer” he said holding up the DVD case.

“Yes oh my god put it in!” You exclaimed throwing yourself down against the pillows watching him squat down beside the DVD player. Making his way back towards the sofa Peter sat down laying your upper body across his legs stroking your hair gently.

15 minutes into the program you realised how relaxed you felt, you felt so warm and safe in peters arms like you were in your own little world.

Looking down at you Peter could see the hazy look in your eyes looking at the clay reindeer on the screen. The scene came on when Robbie got trapped on the conveyer belt causing him to be packaged in a toy box. Now the scene was hilarious and enough to earn a chuckle out of any adult but the way you reacted was very different to how you normally would.

You were regressed.

Smiling Peter knelt down placing a gentle kiss on the side of your temple “there she is! There’s my little girl” looking shyly up at him you hugged his hand tightly under your chin “hello dada” you whispered turning your head back towards the telly.

"Hi sweetheart" he said softly not wanting to disturb you. Looking into his bedroom his door slightly agar he saw the baby blue box that he kept you regression things in. Aiming his hand towards the box he shot his webs watching in fly towards his hand.

Catching it in his left palm he silently removed the lid pulling out your transparent dummy with blue and red glitter and your bluebell kitten toy gently placing the dummy in your mouth and the toy in your arms.

Making sure you were comfortable he lightly turned his body to face the kitchen truing to work out a way to warm you a bottle.

"Hi you guys" he heard aunt may enter the apartment carrying some shopping in her arms "Hey may" he said beckoning her over to the two of you "would you be able to make her a bottle?" He whispered still stroking your hair.

"Oh of course! The orange or the purple bottle?" "Purple please" "Okay, just a sec" a few minutes later you heard the soft hum of the microwave looking up slightly "it's okay baby" peter soothed you.

"Here you go" may said passing him the bottle "hi little one" she addressed you with a soft tone. Smiling behind your dummy you waved at her shyly "aww so adorable" she smiled walking back towards the kitchen to put the shopping away.

Quickly pulling your dummy out so you didn't get fussy he replaced it with the warm bottle of milk. Relaxing back into him you accepted the bottle and gave him a small smile.

"It's okay my sweet angel, daddy's here for you."

───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────

Taglist - @bootlegmothman420 @littlephia @whippedforhongjoong @youngstarfishdinosaur @patchesofwork @buggyateabug @autisticbeauty @friendlyneighborhoodkillerbunny @sparklybuck @2-gay-possums-in-a-trench-coat @hopelesswritergall @stuckysgirl27 @sleepyprinc3ss @chaotic-little-witch

#daddy!peter #cg!peter parker #little!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker #tom!peter x reader #tom!spiderman #ria answers #sfw age regression #caregiver #age regression reader #little reader #sfw agere #sfw littlespace

[yourwizardofaus]

It's my last Tumblr post for 2023, the year that saw the release of an Elvis biopic by Buz Luhrmann. Tom Hanks received some criticism along the way for his portrayal of Parker, with everything from his prosthetic makeup to his accent being singled out. As the year ends, lets take a look at some of the pictures I've collected of the real "Thomas Andrew Parker" during his years with Elvis.

Elvis and Parker at an RCA-Paramount Pictures party at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel in Los Angeles on 18th May 1957.

Two pictures from December 21, 1957, when Elvis went to Parker's home (1215 Gallatin Road in South Madison, Tennessee) to deliver a Christmas present - a new BMW Isetta microcar.

It’s 9:15am at Fort Dix, NJ on 5th March 1960 and Elvis is being honorably discharged from the Army.  As he collects his mustering out cheque for $109.54 he kids with the Colonel about his percentage.  In later years that would be far from a laughing matter.

Parker shows his sense of humour during the filming Roustabout in 1964 when a birthday party is held for Elvis’ cousin, Billy Smith.

On the NBC set in Los Angeles, Elvis sung a birthday song ‘It Hurts Me’ (in an amusing parody) for the Colonel, 26 June 1968.

A couple of rare shots of Parker with baby Lisa Marie.

Two pictures of Parker and Elvis at the August 1, 1969 press conference in Las Vegas announcing Elvis' new residency at the International Hotel (the Hilton as of 1972).

In this candid shot, we see Parker in a hotel elevator while on tour in Mobile Alabama in 1971 with one of his constant business companions, longtime RCA Records executive George L. Parkhill (centre in yellow shirt).  Parkhill’s main task was "working with Elvis." That basically meant he supervised Elvis' concert tours and, when Elvis was in Los Angeles, monitoring all activities that involved him being RCA's top money maker.

The Colonel below the stage as Elvis performs in Cincinnati in the Black Fireworks jumpsuit on November 11, 1971.

Parker once again staying close to this star client below the stage at the evening appearance at Madison Square Garden on June 9, 1972.

Two pictures of Parker below the stage at the afternoon show in Honolulu on November 18, 1972. In the first picture he's picked an unusual spot to have a chat with Joe Esposito.

An undated picture of Colonel Parker on tour with Elvis in the early 1970s.

Colonel Parker before a concert in Detroit at Olympia Stadium on September 29, 1974.

Perhaps the last time Parker and Elvis were photographed together was in the dressing room just before the new years eve concert in Pontiac, MI, on December 31, 1975. At the time Parker had allowed a visit by local mayor Wallace E. Holland and Oakland press writer Jackie Kallen who presented an award.

#Elvis #Elvis Presley #Colonel Tom Parker #Tom Parker #Colonel Parker #rock music #pop culture #candid #1950s #50s #fifties #1960s #60s #sixties #1970s #70s #seventies

[waddlewaddlewaddlewaddle]

Over my head (Miguel ‘o’ Hara x Reader)

Chapter 5

Pairing: Miguel x reader

Summary: y/n is a kind hearted nurse who’s life gets turned upside down as she get fired from one the most prestigious hospitals in NYC , desperate , she start filing job applications wherever. Coincidentally a stressed Miguel is looking for a nurse due to a big amount of spider people getting injured due to the surprisingly large amount of anomalies happening in the spider verse. What could go wrong is these two meet?

Themes: ✎slow burn ( I think)

Mutual pining

✎office romance (¿)

Hidden romance

✎Smut available as story progresses.

Dom Miguel x sub/bratty reader

✎Stubborn, Ill tempered Miguel.

✎ Angelic reader .

It girl reader.

✎I try to be as accurate as possible.

English is not my first language so bare with me.

✎badass stoic x sweet empath.

Og spanish speaker so be prepared for steamy dialogue :3

Content :Fluff

See master list for previous or future chapters

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In a blink of an eye Miguel throws you into the air and with the help of a few faux webs your quickly taped down to the ceiling ,your hair falls straight down blurring your vision as you feel your back ache after suddenly being slammed into the roof.

-“¡Mierda Peter!”- Exclaimed Miguel as he watched Peter Parker walking in drunkenly still with his baby’s kangaroo on.

-“Where’s y/n?”- asked the joyful man with a can of Heineken in his hand.

-“she…”- Miguel lengths his sentence trying to compose a valid excuse but the worry that he didn’t stick you properly to the ceiling resulting in you falling down and possibly hurting yourself was all that could occupy his mind.-“Just left actually.”-He says with a fake smile.

Miguel was too busy trying to not break a sweat from his sudden acting role to notice that even though Peter was drunk his spider senses still worked perfectly and that he could sense your exhilarating heart beat from miles.

-“Well I just wanted to tell you that y/n told me about your injury so I could help out with the spiders , and as a friend I want you to take care of yourself, Mayday and I care deeply about you , we don’t want you to martyrize yourself for the sake of the association. For you information we perfectly run smoothly without your help for a few days. So as long as I find a babysitter for may I’ll replace you on your missions ,how does that sound ?”- Even though Peter was inebriated he pulled together the last night of eloquence he had so he could show his dear friend he cares about him.

The corner of Miguel’s lip raised for a millisecond before returning to his normal serious facade.

-“Thank you Peter but I won’t let you take over my responsibilities over a little injury. Plus with the recent raise of anomalies i don’t want to take extra risks. Do you want me to ask spider noir to take you home , you seem wasted.”- He ends the conversation with a small chuckle.

-“He’s even more wasted than I am! I’m too drunk to discuss this with you right now but just know the conversation is not over.”- Peter hasn’t gone out in a while since having mayday so he enjoys all the fun he could get.

And with some heavy unbalanced steps he quickly left the room leaving you too alone.

-“Miguel, I feel all the blood in my body in the front of my face. Please get my down.”- You groaned as you stayed still.

-“Coming.”- He said as he jumped about 13 feet in the air, With one hand he grabbed you by the waist and with the other he used his claws to rip the webs , he swiftly landed on the ground while you sorta struggled to climb off him to place yourself on the floor.

After letting you down you noticed that Miguel winced and started to rub the area that you just injected.

-“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You should take peters offer , it’ll be for his own good too. He needs those missions to get in shape so he’ll be able to keep up with mayday.”- You giggled as you started to put away the supplies.

-“Too dangerous.”

-“Oh Please Miguel, I know you think you’re the shit but i know they’ll get by perfectly without you.”- You sometime liked to provoke men by hurting their ego this way it’ll leave them flustered or confused, this lets you convince them easier it may seem Machiavellian but it’s for his own good.

Miguel’s brows tightened into a knot while he glared at you.

-“It’s not that, I’m just Really good at my job I guess.”- He murmured trying not to flatter himself too much when in reality he likes to think that the success of the spider society is due to his strict , hard handed leadership.

-“Whatever you say, i hope you’ll be able to climb walls as your ribs start pinching your lungs.”- you struggled to avoid letting out a laugh while watching the terror mirror in his face.

You quickly put away everything in their respective rooms and commanded the bots to sanitize the room before your arrival.

You grabbed your purse and walked back to the main room thinking migue would have left already but to your surprise his big figured continued to loom over the poor stool.

-“Goodnight Miguel.”- You smiled as you grabbed the door handle , before you knew it you felt a calloused warm hand grab your wrist.

-“Let me take you home.”

-“What for?”-You questioned.

-“To thank you for your services ,even though they were forced on to me.”-Miguel insisted as his hand refused to leave your small wrist

-“Be my guest.”

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

Miguel drove a Ford raptor 150, A real vintage model but you could say it went well with his personality. The car smelled of smoker rosewood and was surprisingly spotless.

As you were driven to your home you couldn’t help but notice Miguel’s fixed gaze on the road or the way his rough hands grabbed the staring wheel firmly, you tried to not let your eyes wonder but they automatically traveled up to his arms that were decorated with bulging veins and a beautiful tan, your glare finally ended up on his face, his cheekbones and jawline were as sharp as his attitude , but what really caught your attention was his eyes ; they were cold and opaque like they were dull buttons glued on to his face. You concluded that he was strangely too handsome to be Spider-Man , he should be an old spice model or something.

-“Got something on my face?”- He murmured looking at you through the corner of his vision.

-“Yeah you got a little bit of blood; you better clean that up before they think you’ve killed someone.”- You responded as fast as lightning refusing to let him catch you off guard.

-“You always got a comeback huh?”- He sighed as he looked through your side mirror so he could take a turn.

-“Actually it comes out pretty naturally. It’s a gift you could say.”- You started to enjoy the conversations you two have while alone, this moment is not the exception. He was actually a pretty nice guy when he’s not throwing tables at unsuspecting people.

-“You live in a nice area of the city, I’ve never been here;must be a pretty safe spot.”

Miguel changed the subject while looking at the surroundings of your street , you choose this area because there were a lot of parks , trees and most importantly beautiful flowers to gaze at while taking a run.

-“want to know an unconventional reason why I choose this street.”

-“Enlighten me.”-He said as he swiftly parked in front of your building while turning his body to you so he could pay attention to you fully.

-“My parents immigrated from another country and where I’m from we lived in small town surrounded by a lot of nature, so you can imagine the shock when we moved here with concrete everywhere and all the pollution. So I picked this street cause the smell and ambiance sort of reminds me of home you know?”

-“It’s funny how everyone tries to make their reality one where they were most happy, even if it doesn’t exist anymore.”- He noted with a somber look in his eyes.

As you noticed the tensed up environment you decided to call it a night.

-“Thanks for the ride Miguel.”

-“Wait let me walk you to your door.”- He said grabbing the handle of his door.

-“There’s no need.”- You said with an earnest smile. -“Don’t want the door man to get the wrong idea.”

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Miguel locked the door to his penthouse and took his shoes of at the entrance , the Interior of his home was inspired by rustic minimalism.

The low glow of the lights made the house seem lonelier that it already was.

The bronzed man made his way to the shower turning on the cold water before taking off his clothes. He looked into the mirror to stare at the injuries staining his body, he was used to looking at open wounds and sometimes cuts that never healed properly due to his negligence, but then he stared at the little dots pertaining from your syringe, it’s the first time someone cared enough to tend to his injuries. He knows it’s your job and that he shouldn’t feel giddy over this, but after today he couldn’t help but feel a little appreciation towards you.

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

The next day In the spider society hungover Peter Parker had a very important mission, he wanted to convince Lyla to suspend Miguel’s watch for at least a day so he could heal properly; he already informed the closest spider people so they could all be on their A game on todays mission for the sake of Miguel’s health.

-“Lyla I know it’s too much to ask but please keep it a secret from him!”- Pleaded out Peter almost on his knees.

-“There’s 5 anomalies roaming around the multiverse, how do you expect me to stay quiet”.- Groaned the ai.-“It’s Miguel’s choice if he decided to go out and bust his back, plus if I do decide to follow up on your plan he’ll be forced to stay here in HQ and bitch at me.”

-“Just trust me I have a plan.”

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

After a rainy morning you arrived at HQ , after some greeting you noticed two spiders who were particularly hung over so you decided to prepare some iv bags and fluffen some pillows in case they wanted to come by and take a nap.

But as soon as you unlocked the door you noticed a sandwich from an artisan deli from the nice part of the city along with a warm latte.

You tilted your head in confusion wondering who could have left it here, on closer inspection you noticed a mint green note the top of the sandwich that read.

(Here’s last nights over time fee.

-M)

[a/n: sorry for the long wait but I enjoyed writing the

chapter and that’s all that matters to me🫶🏻 I’ll update from now on once a week :3]

#miguel x reader #mutual pining #office romance #across the spiderverse #comments are appreciated #fanfic #miguel o'hara #smut available as story progresses #spiderman #peter parker #you working as a nurse at the spider society #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderverse x reader #Spotify

[shayyprasad]

we are okay | peter parker

tw: minor angst... kinda? self-deprecation, cursing... but there's always cursing-

summary: peter's been hiding something, and you've gotten into a fight about it. when he leaves before it's been resolved, you give up on this. on him. until...

as you marched up the long set of stairs, you cursed the gods that the elevator was broken. tears were staining your cheeks and blurring your eyes, and you took note of the fact that aunt may's car hadn't been in the parking lot.

good.

curling your hand into a fist, as you'd finally made it up to his level, you angrily pounded on the door. granted, there were better ways to confront your pretentious douchebag of a boyfriend, it was decided by your heart (which in this case was the illogical one) that this was the way.

did you look crazy at 10:00pm banging on someone's door?

yes.

were there people staring?

yes.

did that stop you?

no.

a messy haired brunette peeked out of the door, and his eyes widened the moment he took note of who was there.

"oh, no," he murmured quietly as he pulled you gently inside.

"parker, we past 'oh, no' territory! we are in 'oh, fuck' territory, and i expect you to act like it!" peter winced at that, you never, never, never called him by his last name unless you were furious, and it was quite obvious that you were even past that.

"y/n, angel, i-" you melted at his pet name for you, and for a second you wanted to instantly forgive and forget everything that'd happened.

but you snapped out of that for the sake of yourself, "peter, please. this is the 6th time this week you've either last minute canceled or stood me up! i was waiting for two and a half hours for you! and god, you promised you'd be there this time! you promised, peter, you promised. you- you don't get to do that to me," your voice dropped to a painful whisper, and this heart ached.

"do you know how patient i've been with you? i have no idea what you go out and do, and i'm trying to trust that... you have a good reason, i am, really, but you- you're making it hard. you don't do any of the things that most boyfriends do, and i'm not setting some stupid high expectations or anything, i just want the bare minimum."

he didn't say anything, so you repeated yourself, "the bare mini- minimum, my love. isn't it fair that i at least get that? o-or just tell me what's going on. i promise i won't be mad or anything, please peter, give me something. anything. i won't judge, a-and," you were trying to take deep breaths and calm yourself down, but nothing seemed to be working, and now that you had started, all your thoughts, feelings, and emotions were flooding out.

"you know, at first i didn't even care. i didn't care that you canceled dates, or stood me up, or made stupid, unbelievable excuse, b-because i had you. you were mine, and that was all i needed. but this isn't healthy, peter. this relationship? no, it's not. i-it's not right, not- not to me or to you. tell me peter, tell me w-what's going on," you begged again, sobbing.

but how could he just tell you? it seemed so easy, but actually doing it was so much more different. his head snapped up at the vulnerability in your voice. looking at you turned out to be a mistake. peter's chest squeezed at the sight of your face and the hurt swimming in those beautiful eyes of yours.

his dread mixed with a strange exhilaration at being alone with you like this, and it took all of his willpower not to sweep you up in his arms and never let go. to hold you in his arms and whisper sweet nothings. to kiss you until the two of you were breathless, and to soak in your loving scent that easily brought a smile to his face. to leave everything and everyone behind, just for you.

and the worst part? he couldn't. and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to again. peter begged you silently to not leave. to hold him in your arms instead, for you to whisper sweet nothings to him, and for you to kiss him. for you to just know. to just understand, and that way, it would be so much easier. he wouldn't have to worry about putting words together and making them sound literate, because you would just know.

but you didn't.

and back to square one, he didn't know how to tell you. back to square one, stuck in something more painful than his own webs. back to square one, heartbroken again.

so peter looked back down at the floor, hoping that it would just swallow him up and it'd all be over. he had his spider-man suit under, and the extra layer of clothes he had on top were certainly not helping the sudden heat.

"say something," you urged, "say something to make me stay. tell me you love me, and that you care about us, what we are- or what we were. o-or say that i'm important to you, that you don't want me to go, because if you don't, i'm leaving... and... i'm- i'm not coming back. but get one thing straight, i. am. not. leaving. without. an. answer. i don't care what you say, but you have to say something," you felt so pathetic and stupid as you stood there, right in the middle of his room, waiting for him to say something that would define the fate of your relationship with him. because, utimately, he was the deciding factor.

you knew you wanted this, because peter parker, you'd decided, was the most important this to you. he was above everyone else, including yourself. and if a boy was that important you, but you meant nothing to him, then really, you were pathetic.

he racked his brain, trying to find something to say that would mend everything, make it all better. but in that moment, there was nothing.

"i'm-" he started, trying to string together words as he went along, "i'm, um, i can- explain," peter was crying too now, tears rolling down his soft skin.

and the, with what had to be the worst timing, he felt the hairs on his neck and arms raise, "i- i have to go!"

"yeah, you- wait, what? are you fucking kidding me? right now? gods, peter-"

"i'msosorrywecantalkwhenigetbackandifyoudon'twannastayyoucanletyourselfouti'msosorryiloveyoubutthisisurgent," peter said, barfing out a pool of incoherent words.

and then he left you all alone in his apartment.

so you stood there for a bit, shocked. you walked over to his desk, part of you not wanting to leave. this felt like the only way you could be close to him. after all, you did promise to not leave without an answer, and you owed it to yourself to at least be that petty. taking a seat in his rolling chair, you buried you face into your hands.

no, you weren't the most popular girl in school, not the prettiest, and definitely incomparable to liz, but you weren't eric with glasses who tried to flirt with everyone and instead give them secondhand embarrassment. the kid tried out for swim team... and by some fate of god, he got in.

you sniffled.

maybe if i was prettier, or curvier, or confident. then peter would like me more, right? because who wants to ditch someone like that? he'd never do that to liz. should i have grown out my hair? i'm not skinny enough. i should be skinnier. if i'm skinny, he'll stay.

you dropped your head down onto the table with a thunk. you winced in pain as it hit something hard. sniffling once more and tilting your head slightly you glanced down onto the table. the first thing you noticed were blueprints. many, many blueprints. the were all blue and had the same thing in the bottom corner, the emblem of stark industries.

it probably wasn't right to look through his things, you thought, but whatever.

the one on top looked like a figure. no, a costume. squinting harder, you realized it was a suit... for spider-man. that made sense, he worked for tony, well, interned, so it made sense to have blueprints. although peter had always said that he didn't get "involved" with the avenger at all. he had claimed to do "smaller things," like coffee runs and sometimes programming.

and there was another paper under, a blue print of a small... box? scrawled in what you knew was peter's handwriting, was web cartridges. for spider-guy? there were formulas written under, ones you'd never be smart enough to understand. moving the sheets, you saw the same little box- er, web cartridge.

you picked it up and examined it, noting that it was light-weight. there was a small divot near the edge, and you pressed down on it and pulled it back. there were some wires around it, but other than that, it was empty.

huh. "not involved" my ass, pete.

and then it hit you. the idea weighed heavy on your mind, and it wasn't one you had ever thought of before, but looking at it now, the pieces seemed to latch themselves together. shock burst through you like something of electricity, and it made your head spin.

peter was spider-man.

no, no, he would tell me if he was. because- because we don't keep secrets, right?

but it made so much sense, and looking back on it, you felt stupid for not realizing it sooner. you took in a shaky breath. it all match up, and now that the thought was in your mind, nothing else made sense. you pulled your phone out of your pocket and clicked on the app for live news. and guess what was there?

a live report of spider-man at a robbery, one that had started about 15 minutes ago.

the same time he'd rushed out.

so peter really was spider-man.

and then?

guilt.

it was crushing, and it felt as if it was pounding on your lungs, stopping your breathing. you had yelled at him... for saving people. you were the worst girlfriend ever. the love of your life was out fighting bad guys and you just screamed at him. you made him cry.

well, that made you cry. terrible, ugly, sobs wracked your body and you did nothing to stop them. with that, you left his apartment, feeling shitty. you wanted nothing more to take it all back, because if you'd just kept your mouth shut, there wouldn't have been an argument. it was pitch black as you walked the dark streets of new york.

this was an empty part of town, and the streets were bare.

there was a fine chance that you could die, but in that moment, you couldn't care less. maybe that'd be good. maybe you deserved it. you heard a small thud behind you and froze, feeling a chill pass you.

it was a familiar face, one laced in red and blue.

"y-you shouldn't be walking alone at night, it's-... it's not safe," his voice was timid and hesitant. peter had tried to give himself a small accent, but it didn't do much for him, as you could see right through it.

the same guilt coursed through you again, and you simply could stop the sob that slipped your lips. "i- i'm so sorry, i shouldn't have- i didn't- i didn't know, i'm such a terrible girlfriend, i know, you deserve better, and- and," you were full on crying now, ignoring the 7% that was doubtful of peter being behind mask as your knees felt weak.

"ma'am, i-" there was no point. you knew. he knew you knew. "oh, darling, i'm so sorry, i know i should have told you. please, don't apologize and don't blame youself... you- you didn't know."

"no, you don't under-"

"i do, i get it, but listen to me, you didn't know, you don't get to blame yourself. i didn't tell you and that's on me, got it?" he cried, enveloping you fully. his dark hues were glistening with tears and you looked up at them. " don't you dare say sorry, you understand? gods, i- i love you so much, y/n, so much. i didn't tell you... because i was scared, i thought it'd put you danger, but it doesn't matter, because there's no way in hel that i'm letting anyone touch you."

"i love you, too, peter. i... will we be okay?" you asked softly.

"we are okay."

how was it?? was it angsty enough?? i said minor angst, ik, but did you get the feels?? did you cry?? i'll be so happy if someone cried lmao (sounds bad ik) have a good day/night/evening/whatever/you get the point/okay i'll stop now

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #peter parker #spiderman #angst with a happy ending

[words-like-water]

You're My Angel

or the one where running errands with peter makes you realize your feelings for him.

wooo! first published story. it has not been betad so if you're looking to be a mutual/beta reader pleeeease hit me up

peter parker x fem!reader

word count: 2,700

warnings: none really. angst if you squint bc unrequited love that ends up requited

i don't like using y/n so peter and the reader call each other lots of nicknames. 

nothing. nothing. nothing.

nothing in the fridge, nothing in the cabinets. no ingredients, barely any snacks. the only tangible things in my kitchen are a bottle of ketchup and multiple almost-rotten fruits. i slam the refrigerator door shut and lean against it with a sigh.

i guess next time i should stock up before a mission. living with my mom has its. we get along, and we don't get in each other's way; she's always at work and i'm always at "avenger club" as she likes to call it. however, being the only other person living here also means that if she doesn't buy groceries, it's my responsibility.

i'm contemplating using instacart for groceries when my phone rings in its spot on the counter. picking it up, a smile finds its way to my face as i see who's calling me.

"hiiii, angel!"

 peter parker's voice pours from my phone's speakers. it's music to my ears. peter and i have known each other since he joined the avengers, two years after i had. we've been inseparable since that week in haiti, saving civilians from a freak tropical storm. 

we had so much in common, from our love of legos to our protective sense for the people we care about. my friends like his friends, and vice versa. even my mom and may get along. 

we're like peanut butter and jelly, chicken and waffles, and cookies and milk. we're great on our own, but together, we just make something amazing. wait, what?

i shake the ridiculous thought from my head as i remember i'm on the phone.

"what do you want, parker?" there's a playful accusatory tone in my voice as I cross my arms like he can see me.

"whatever do you mean? i can't just call my best friend because i want to talk to her?"

i roll my eyes and say, "peter, you only call me angel when you want something." and i know i'm right. he's called me angel ever since we went on a mission where i basically saved his life. he knows it strokes my ego.

"fine, you caught me. may's at this thing with some ladies she met at the library. i'm soooo bored."

"well you're in luck," i proclaim, pushing off of the fridge and walking down the hallway. "i need to run errands, you can come with me."

i hear something like plastic rustling on his end of the phone before he groans, "ew, errands? no thanks." his words are almost incoherent around a snack of some sort.

making it into my room, i drop my phone on the bed and start to change out of my sweats. "okay, stay at home and be bored out of your mind. and when i go to delmar's later don't ask me to bring you anything." i smirk at the commotion i hear from his side as i pull on a different shirt. 

"delmar's? i'll be at your house in 10," he says loud and clear, then he hangs up. 

I shake my head while messing with my hair a bit. not that i care what i look like in front of peter, i just like to be decent anytime i leave the house.

---

true to his word, peter knocked on my door 10 minutes later. his cheeks tinted red and his hair unruly. 

"did you swing here?" i ask him, reaching up to comb through the curls until they lay somewhat flat. he leans down a bit and allows me to work, his hair like silk between my fingers. 

"yeah, the sooner we do boring grown-up stuff, the sooner we can get sandwiches." he looks at me with a gleam in his eyes that never disappears. 

i push his head away lightly as a grab my purse and keys. "you only wanna run errands with me so i'll buy you food? you're such a leech, parker." i say with fake hurt in my voice as i turn to lock the door. 

"awww. that's not true, i'd run errands with you anytime, angel." he coos, and i have to force myself to remain standing as he runs his fingertips down my spine.

i narrow my eyes at him to hide the fact that i'm wracking my brain for possible explanations of why he could have done that. there had to be something on my shirt. that gesture was pure friendliness, right? and better question, why did it make my knees feel weak as toothpicks?

"whatever, liar." i laugh a little to keep my voice steady as i brush past him towards the elevator.

as we get in, he asks me what kind of errands i need to run. first, the library to return some books, then groceries. then we can get delmar's i assure him.

the walk from my apartment building to the library isn't long, and once i return the books, we head for the grocery store. between the destinations, we talk about school, different shows, and our secret "club," but only with codenames in case anyone is listening. we people watch and play games, and every now and then i feel peter's hand brush mine. only slightly, like it was an accident, i pray it was an accident. 

we reach the grocery store, and like the gentleman he is, he grabs a basket while i look for the list in my purse. 

"okay, first things first, cereal." i declare, walking in one direction. they had recently rearranged the layout of the store, but i was confident that i knew where i needed to go. i turn to say something to peter when i realize he's walking the opposite way. 

"peter," i call for him, "where are you going?"

"...to..get..cereal?" he points out like i've just asked him the most obvious question.

"baby," i condescendingly say, "cereal's this way," i point in the direction i was originally going. 

"no, sweetheart, cereal is this way." he juts his thumb in the direction he was going.

"alright, parker." i walk closer to him. "since you think you know everything, let's make it a game."

"okay," he smirks as he crosses his arms, "i'm listening." his tongue swiping across his bottom lip.

my eyes catch on his thick arms, straining against his sweatshirt. stupid spider. and i have to rip my eyes away from the motion at his lips to continue my thoughts. what is wrong with me today?

"for every item on the list," i fight to keep my eyes on his, "we'll make a bet about which side of the store it's on. whoever loses the most has to buy dinner."

he nods along to what i'm saying, seemingly contemplating, but i can already see the mischief in his eyes. "i'll play your game, but when you lose just know i'm ordering everything delmar's makes."

"oh please, be my guest," i nod along with him, "i just hope you've got enough cash to back yourself up."

in the next second, he's in my space. barely three inches away as my breath catches in my throat. 

"so, cereal... lead the way."

---

i turn on my heels, speeding towards where i know the cereal is. he doesn't expect me to move so quickly, as he's still standing where i was a second ago. but he reacts, catching up to me slightly.

my heart is beating fast and hard, and i pray he can't hear it. i can't think for the life of me why he's acting like this. he can't like me. we're friends. that's how i know that peter is awkward. and he's shy, especially with girls that he likes. but he's not shy right now. he's being so forward. which means...

he doesn't like me, he's playing with me. this really is a game to him. he only calls me angel when he wants something.

i almost pass what i'm looking for in my scatterbrained state. "see," i motioned, "there it is, like i said." 

i grab what i need and put it in the basket, barely looking at him, though i can feel his confusion at my change in emotion. i take the list, putting my initial next to the first item, and read off the second item to him. we place our bets, and head in his direction first. it turns out to be correct, so i check off the item and write his initial. we continue this for the rest of the items, but my mind begins to wander again.

i can't believe peter would mess with me like this. playing with my feelings. feelings that i didn't even know i had. i try to think about when they could have developed, and it dawns on me. as i watch him put bread in the basket, an item i was right about, i realize why today is different. 

peter and i had never run errands together. being in such a domestic situation with someone i had come to care for so much made me realize just how much i like peter. of course, when i first met him, i thought he was attractive, but more so, i found him adorable. and he's funny, and he cares so much. and throughout the years he's done everything he can to make me happy. running errands with him made me think of the future. our future and how this could be us one day, making groceries for our apartment.

but it will never be us, because peter doesn't feel that way, and he's playing with me, and it hurts more than i can admit.

i don't hear whatever gloating statement he makes as he wins the next item, fruits and vegetables, and he notices. his face falls as he assesses what might be wrong, and i can feel my throat close at the thought of having this conversation. the universal, friendship-ending, i-like-you-why-don't-you-like-me-back conversation. i cough, clearing my face of any emotion except feigned annoyance. 

"good job. you're in the lead by one. the last item is jam, and i think it's this way, so let's go."

i don't give him a chance to say anything as i take the basket, and head in the direction i indicated. i can feel him keeping his distance, but i don't bother to look behind me. it's good that he can feel his game ending. maybe we can go back to being regular friends after this. hopefully. 

we reach the shelves filled with jellies, jams, syrups, and preserves. it's exactly where i thought it was, although a little high, and i mark my initials next to it. peter congratulates me quietly. i make no comment about how we're tied now, and i reach for it, just aching to hurry up and get out of this store and go home.

i can't reach it, not even on my tippy toes, so i step on the lowest shelf to give myself a boost. i feel my fingers graze the jar, and i almost have it when i hear peter.

"angel, you're gonna hurt yourself, just let me get it." 

and it's a good thing that his hand is hovering over my lower back, waiting for permission. because hearing him call me that name, the one that doesn't sound the same anymore, makes me falter, and with my weight of center because of the basket, i slip off the shelf. 

it's not that high off the ground, but in my distressed state, it startles me nonetheless. peter catches me, one arm on my back and one arm around my front. i'm sure he can feel my heavy breaths, my beating heart. 

he takes the basket, sets it on the ground, and i can feel it before he says it. it takes everything in me not to cry. it's not enough.

"are you okay, angel?"

next thing i know, i'm angrily wiping tears from my face and pushing him away from me. 

"stop it. stop calling me that," i say between deep breaths.

"okay. i'm sorry. i thought you liked it." he steps towards me, hands up, with an apologetic shrug.

he's right.  and that's the problem.

"i do; i do like it. but not like this, not when you don't mean it." i see his brows furrow.

"wh-what do you mean, 'i don't mean it'?" i don't realize he's so close now, and as he places his hands gently on my arms, i don't stop him.

steadying myself, i gaze at my shoes. unable to look at him as i rip my heart out to put it on my sleeve.

"you only call me angel when you want something. but today was different, and i hadn't put two and two together until just now. when you brushed my back in front of my apartment, and when you kept touching my hand on our walk, and when you got in my space when we first got here, it all drove me insane. and you keep calling me angel, but it's different, and now i know why. because you're messing with me, peter parker. and it hurts because i really, really like you, but this is just a game to you. which hurts even more because i never thought that you would do something like this."

i finish my rambling in sniffles, and i wait with bated breath for him to laugh in my face. 

"aw, baby," his hands cupping my face coax me to look at him. "do you know why i call you angel? hm?"

"because i saved your life," i sniffle and try to look back at the floor. but he holds me in place, dipping his head to keep eye contact with me.

"well yes, but also, because you're my angel. any time i hear you laugh, it makes my heart feel like it's gonna beat out of my chest. and you're so beautiful, all the time, it's like you're glowing. but most of all, just like an angel, you make my world a better place just by being in it."

it's easier for me to breathe now. and i don't think i've ever been happier than i am in this moment. i bet i look hysterical, covered in tears, and standing on the jelly aisle. 

"if you really like me, why did you act like that, all bold and stuff?" I'm starting to calm down, "the peter parker i know is awkward when he likes a girl, always."

peter's cheeks go pink, and it's his turn to struggle to hold eye contact.

"i don't know, when i asked mr. stark what i should do about liking you, he told be to be bold because girls like that. i guess i didn't think about if that would work with you." 

his thumbs caress back and forth against my cheeks absentmindedly.

"well, it doesn't work with me," i place my hands on his wrists, my thumbs mirroring his motion. "i want awkward peter parker."

his face is slowly inching towards mine, and this time i don't mind.

"oh yeah?," his eyes flicker to my lips before returning to mine. "i promise i'll go back to being awkward, right after this."

he presses his lips gently against mine, the salt from my dried tears present between us as i kiss him back. even though we were standing in the middle of a grocery store, it was the softest, most romantic experience i've ever had. i wouldn't change a thing. as his tongue brushed against my bottom lip, i had no choice but to regard the fact that we were in public.

"okay, tiger," i pulled back, reluctantly.

the pink in his cheeks deepened drastically. 

"see," i move my hands to cup his face now, "there's my peter parker."

he turns my hand to kiss my palm, then the other. we separate long enough for him to grab the jam and place it in the basket, picking it up. then, he wraps his free arm around me and pulls me into his side.

"i know we tied, but will you still buy me dinner?", i ask as we walk towards the checkout line.

he laughs and kisses my temple, "yes angel, i'll buy you dinner."

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #tom holland x reader #peter parker #tom holland #spider man x reader #spider man

[lovedrots]

hii! i love your work :) how about peter x stark!reader where y/n and flash are forced to be partners for a project but peter gets adorably jealous over the whole thing <3

ii. what he doesn't have

ii .  what  he  doesn’t  have -  p.p. x stark!reader

synopsis : being a stark means that almost everyone is chasing after you for schoolwork help, being a “genius’s” daughter. so, what happens when you happen to be paired for a project with the one and only flash thompson – with your boyfriend, peter parker, in the same class?

warnings : mild swearing, insecure pete :(, flash being a bully as always

a/n : thank you for the compliment and request, angel! i’ve tried my best to get our boy’s insecure and jealous side down, but please bear with me if it’s off at all. ps; it may be a little rushed? <3

word count : 2,737

all you’ve known since you were a kid were luxuries, crime-scenes, and a fair share of booksmarts. all thanks to your surname; stark.

yeah, a part of you enjoyed the whispers of awe, the freebies you got when you were out. but school? that was a whole other situation in itself. 

you were constantly surrounded and berated by students, offering cash, – as if you needed any more – snacks, their souls, for you to do their projects, finals, or homework for them. though you could understand where they came from, it did nothing to soothe your anxiety and annoyance. 

the only thing that did help, was your boyfriend. peter benjamin parker.

each morning he awaited you at your locker, doe-eyes locked onto you like you were the moon and sun. under his gaze, everything melted away, and you felt as if you were wrapped in a freshly washed blanket. 

but, lets not get ahead of ourselves. after all, every relationship, no matter how loving, comes with its downsides. you and peter’s? 

jealousy. 

when you weren’t spending every moment of every day together, peter would watch you as you got flocked by hopeful, puppy-loving boys and girls. though you’d always proudly shown your boyfriend off to the world, it didn’t exactly stop the declarations of ‘love’ from rolling in.

and today was really no different. you and peter walked hand-in-hand down the halls of midtown high, floating above everyone else, whispering in each others ears, grins plastered on your faces. to everyone else, it looked as though you were exchanging compliments, words of romance. 

but, what you were really discussing?

what the two of you wanted to research for today’s announced chemistry project. 

“what about the fritz harber’s experiments?” you offered, wrecking your brain for ideas. you knew that your teacher would provide everyone lists of suggestions, but you had always preferred to think of something on your own. the lists were your fallback plan. 

“that feels more like a history subject,” he countered, biting his lip. “other than going into detail about chemical warfare – which, again; history – there isn’t much we can do.”

you threw your head back in exasperation, wishing you could fall to the floor then and there. this project had to be perfect. it was your ticket to m.i.t., or any ivy league college, for that matter. 

the two of you volleyed suggestions back and forth, bickering, laughing, and brooding, ‘till you reached the open door to ms. warren’s classroom. peter gave your hand a gentle squeeze, a reassurance. even if it took a few hours of brainstorming, you’d come up with something. you had to.

you strayed from him, taking your assigned seat a few tables away. you weren’t a big fan of the arrangement, but you knew the teacher only wanted the best for you. especially after peter and you had wasted days worths of time whispering to each other, when you should have been paying attention. 

the rest of the class tumbled in as the bell chimed, sitting in their respective corners, voices dialing down to a hush as ms. warren stood, a stack of papers – what you assumed to be the project rubric – in her hands. 

“class,” she curtly nodded. “i believe we all know what today is, yes?”

you all muttered your agreements, shifting in your chairs, eger to get to work. you didn’t have much time to complete it, after all; only a week. normally, you’d get two. or more. 

the lady grinned in approval, thumbing through the stack, pulling out a singular list from the bunch. “now, normally, i would let you guys choose your groups. but, upon recent mishaps,” her eyes narrowed to two boys, who had caused a minor fire while goofing off in class during the last project, “i’ve taken … extra precautions. i’ve decided to arrange partners by last name. if all goes well, you can return to your normal pairs.”

you shot up in year seat, alarms going off in your head. you and peter’s eyes met at the same moment, both of you pouty and distraught. this would be one of the first projects you would do separately. 

the teacher began reading off a list of names, passing out yellow-print rubrics as she brushed between tables.

you fiddled with the bent edge of your paper, waiting for her to near the ‘s’ section. 

what didn’t occur to you, was that you were the only ‘s’ in the class.

“eugene – flash – thompson, and y/n stark,” she went on until she hit the end of the list with a click of her tongue. she found her way back to her desk, sitting cross-legged upon her plush seat. before any of your peers could whine in protest, she waved her finger, eyes shooting daggers. or, more accurately, threats of an ‘F’ on your papers. “if i hear any one of you complain, i won’t hesitate to try this experiment again,”

needless to say, the lot of you shut up.

“off you go,” she announced with the wave of her hand. off you went, indeed; the classroom was a mess, students trying to find their partners – some even struggling to figure out who, exactly, they were paired with. it was a frenzy.

but, it was no issue for you. 

how could it be, when you were with the flamboyant, arrogant, rather bastardous flash. you’d despised him ever since liz’s house party, when he had publicly made a fool of poor peter parker. you were a tad bit annoyed at ned, too – but that was a different story. ned was still one of your best friends. but flash? god, he was just a bully. 

you slid into the seat next to him, and though you met his gaze, your eyes were anything but kind. “listen here eugene,” you huffed, “i’m just here to get our work done. this does not mean i see you as anything more than trash.”

flash scoffed, as though to cover up the fact that he was (very obviously) butt-hurt. “i don’t need to hear that from someone with penis-parker. it’s flash, by the way. not eugene.”

you chuckled, fiddling with the end of your number two pencil. “right, sorry eugene. but i don’t think you should talk that way to someone with such close contact to your beloved spider-man.”

he puckered his lips, face growing sour. “oh, come on. everyone loves spider-man. he’s awesome. i’m not abnormal, like your boy-toy. unless you’re referring to my good looks and class.” he wiggled his brows, and though it wasn’t his intent, you only cackled louder at his unwavering cockiness. 

earning a glance from peter. 

the poor boy, already brooding from ms. warren’s new arrangement, seemed to deflate further. he couldn’t exactly pick up what you were talking about. all he saw was your face lighting up, laughing at – what he assumed to be – a stupid joke made by his bully. 

throughout the period, you and flash bickered to no end. poking fun at each other's hair, clothes, even your friends. though you both had malicious intent, peter couldn’t help but catch flash slipping up; his hand lingering next to yours, even when you pushed him away, calling you silly nicknames, though you angrily told him to stop. the way he brushed the hair out of your face, before you swatted his hand away, threatening to chop his beloved body parts off. the whites of your boyfriend’s knuckles showed, him wishing he could simply pounce off the walls and leave a bruise on the other’s sad mistake of a face. 

when the bell rung, you didn’t hesitate to hop off the chair quick as lighting, snatching up your notebook and pens. you didn’t even bother to bid flash good-bye, even when he extended a card with his number plastered in gold letters. 

a card that you ignored. what sort of stuck-up kid carried a fake business card with them? 

slinging your backpack over a shoulder, you skipped over to pete, mindlessly taking his hand; a habit you gathered a month into dating. he seemed to squeeze your fingers tighter than usual, and though you thought nothing of it, it didn’t stop you from noticing as you left the school house.

on the way back to peter’s apartment, the boy seemed awfully quiet. he even refused to look you in the eye, syrup-brown eyes gazing into storm drains, or up at street lamps. though, they seemed so far off, as if he wasn’t truly present. you had been chattering on-and-off for the entire ten minute walk home, stopping only when you realized he really wasn't content on responding, no matter how many times you called his name. for someone whose senses were dialed to, like, two hundred, he sure was good at ignoring situations.

you had iterated the same question six times to him, before you gave up, your grip on his hand growing tighter, as if you were afraid he would let go.

reaching his loft number, he unlocked the front door, calling out for aunt may.

not home. likely getting takeout, he had suggested gruffly. 

peter dropped his bag down next to yours, making a beeline for his bedroom; the room you’d spent so many sleepless nights together in. 

you followed him, hand colder now that he let you go. “pete, are you okay?” you asked gently, sitting next to him on the bed, your shoulders touching. the boy moved impossibly closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck, arms encircling your waist. 

he was only this needy after a bad day.

“peter?” you whispered, lips pulled into a frown. “hey, talk to me. did i do something? you know you can tell me anything. i won’t look down on you.”

“you will,” he responded, pulling his head back to look at you, at last. his usually soft eyes seemed sharper, sculpted with anger. “it’s – it’s not you i’m angry with. flash; he should know who you belong to. not that you’re an object! i just – i just can’t. i can’t watch him take the only thing that i have to myself. he shouldn’t have been touching you, your hands, your face –” 

your stare softened, cupping his pouting face in both your hands. ‘that’s what this fuss is about? flash? i knew it was a special case. these things happen wayyy to much for it to have just been normal jealousy.”

he leaned into your touch, nodding as he pressed his lips to the palm of your hand. “he gets everything he wants. and people don’t even actually like him! he’s mean, and annoying, and …” his voice broke, and with it, so did your heart. “you’re the only thing of mine that he doesn’t have.”

his sniffles had you wiping salty tears from his pink cheeks, the once harsh gaze in his eyes now soft. sad. “you know how i feel about flash. he’s a total bitch.”

“but you laughed with him. i’m telling you; he’s trying to take you, to get to me. and he’s better, in more ways than one. he’s rich. confident.” 

“laughed with him?” you breathed a ghost of a giggle. “pete, i was laughing at him. the idiot’s the most hypocritical, egotistical ass in the world. even my dad couldn’t beat him there. and, why would i ever need his wealth?”

“... you’ve got a point,” peter huffed, sucking on his teeth. “but he touched you … still …”

“and i told him off for it,” you shrugged, thumbs rubbing his cheekbones. “you know i wouldn’t let anyone else do that with me.”

“y/n, am i stupid? for getting jealous?” he asked meekly, swallowing the lump in his throat. he’d been pondering the question during the walk home, shutting out all noise in the process. after all, you had rejected his enemy’s moves bluntly. you hadn’t even accepted his phone number. but it still bugged him. he knew you wouldn’t ever leave him for eugene thompson of all people, but having anyone show romantic interest in you was like a knife to the heart. 

your brows narrowed. “stupid? no, pete, never. that guy’s the dumb one, for ever thinking he had a chance against you,” you scoffed. “i mean, he has a mustache, for thor’s sake.”

the joke lured a gurgle of a laugh from your companion. “thank’s, y/n/n,” he murmured, bringing his face closer to yours, inch by inch.

when his lips captured yours, you savored it. if you hadn’t been sitting, you would have collapsed, your knees feeling so week at his touch. it was different, this time. normally, his kisses were sweet, short. endearing. but in that moment, it was greedy, almost devouring, as if he was happy to simply drown in the essence of you. he tasted like blueberry pie, and you were more than eager to explore it all, the fluttering in your stomach something you could never get used to, and –

“you kids home?” a feminine voice called from the corridor. you pounced off of peter, stumbling back, up against his closet. 

“yeah,” he shouted, though his voice was that of a mouse. he looked at you for approval, red blotting his cheeks and nose. you couldn’t help but burst out laughing, the poor guy in front of you very obviously distraught. 

you heard shuffling in the background, plastic bags being undone. “lovely!” may hummed. “i got us tacos. i was going to make a stir-fry, but …”

“it’s fine, may. thank you,” you said through strings of giggles. you offered peter an outstretched hand, which he gratefully took, pulling himself off the bed. you knew he could do it on his own with ease, but the small action touched his heart. 

you laced your fingers through his, leading him into the dining room, takeout boxes neatly unfolded. “is something wrong?” may asked doubtfully, eyeing peter’s puffy eyes and flushed face. you wore a devil’s grin, which your boyfriend could only take as, ‘we’ve got a new story to tell your aunt.’

and there was certainly no backing you down. 

the rest of the night was spent on the three of you laughing over your dinner, peter pouting as you gleefully exposed his fit only moments ago (making sure to leave out the insecure bits. you weren’t willing to shatter his trust in you, after all).

needless to say, it was 2:45 a.m. by the time peter swung you back to the tower.

a week had passed, and you were exhausted. each meeting you had with flash, the more you seemed to hate the guy. it had gotten to the point where you gave him an ultimatum; if he talked to you about anything that wasn’t related to the project, you would ‘show spidey his fan-accounts.’ specifically, the embarrassing ones, like when he theorized that spider-man was the lovechild of tony stark and some monstrous spider-queen. 

a scene you really didn’t need to visualize, regarding your dad.

and it worked. he stopped touching you, stopped talking to you outside of your class time. he even stopped making fun of peter, when you were around. which was basically all the time.

but now, the two of you were wrapping up your presentation. you had spent hours and sleepless nights on your gadget. even pete had pitched in some help, which you thankfully repaid him for by helping code his own machine.

you dramatically bowed at the end of your speech, earning a laugh from your peers. the last project of the day, finally completed. hopping off the mini-stage, you skittered to your lover, letting him wrap you in an embrace. “i’m so proud of you!” he cheered, ruffling your hair. 

you made a noise similar to whining, ducking to avoid the further messing up of your appearance. “i don’t think anyone could top yours, though.”

he grinned like a little kid, his chest puffing with pride. you were so focused on cooing over him, that you hadn’t noticed your project partner sauntering in your direction. 

“yo, y/n/n! i think we work pretty well together. we sho–”

“don’t talk to my girlfriend,” peter snapped, grip on your silhouette tightening. 

you nodded in approval, rubbing his back. “you tell him, baby,” you sniggered, joyful that your boyfriend had so openly shot down the bastard.

… and, seeing flash’s baffled face was a plus, you supposed. 

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[weird-is-life]

Golden hour

Pairing: Tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Summary: Peter is so in love with you, that he has to ask you that one question

Warnings: like one swear word, so so much fluff

Words: 0.7k Masterlist

A/N: English is not my first language, so please excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes

You and Peter were sprawled on the sofa. He was snuggling you close, a movie playing on the tv. You had your favorite novel in your hand, your entire focus on the book.

Peter loved moments like this. He loved, that you enjoyed each others presence even if you didn't talk. He wouldn't change this quiet, peaceful time with you for anything.

His attention was on the movie, sometimes stealing a glance at you, until the streaks of the sunlight peeked through the window. It started bothering him as it was making his eyes burn.

He was about to walk to the window and close the curtains, but his attention shifted to you.

The sun shined bright on your face, making you look like an angel. He couldn't help but to stare. You were clearly enjoying the warm on your skin, not at all bothered by it.

His head was tilted as he admired your pretty features. Honestly, Peter thought you were always beautiful, the most beautiful. But right now, you looked like from a whole other world.

He didn't know if it was the sun kissing your face or of it was the expressions, you were making, while reading the book, that pulled at the strings on his heart. He didn't want for this moment to ever end.

He tenderly brushed the hair, that was falling to your eyes, behind your ear and that made you look up at him.

He had the most love-sick look on his face and you confusedly frowned at him.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you questioned his dissociated expression.

"Pete?" you called out his name.

"Marry me."

"What?"

"Marry me..." he breathed out.

"Peter, are you feeling okay?" you ignored the fast beat of your heart from his surprising question.

"Perfect. I'm perfect" he oh so softly smiled at you. You were getting concerned, he was looking at you like some puppy and you didn't know what to make of it.

"But i could be better if you would marry me" he curled a strand of your hair around his finger.

"Baby, did you hit your head last night during the patrol?"

"No, why would you think that?"

"Well, you did just ask me to marry you" you sheepishly admited.

"And will you?"

"Will i what?" your heart was really going like a thousand miles an hour.

"Marry me?" he affectionally brushed your cheek.

"Pete, are you being serious?"

"Of course, i am" he responded, " i have my best girl in my arms, looking ridiculously pretty may i add. How could i not be asking that? Jesus, sweetheart, you don't even know how much i love you. It's driving me crazy, i feel like my heart is gonna burst out of my chest whenever i see you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So what do you say, will you marry me? Please?"

You sniffled and giggled when he added the please. You weren't expecting Peter to ask you to marry him this afternoon.

But you weren't complaining, you loved Peter with every fiber of your body. You've been together for a while now and you loved everything about him and your relationship. It was always felt so real with him, so you didn't hesitate about the answer.

You threw yourself on him with glossy eyes," Yes, yes, yes."

You locked your hands behind his head, squeeling in happiness. Peter squeezed your body so tight, that you almost couldn't breath.

"I love you so so so much " he whispered against your neck, warm breath tickling your skin and his eyes were full of tears, aswell.

"I love you more."

"Not possible" he argued and you had to giggle.

"Can't believe, that i'm gonna marry you" he slightly pulled back to look at your damp face and brushed the fallen tears away.

"Me too" you rubbed your nose against his in fondness.

"You know, as your fiancée now, i think you should kiss me" you grinned at him.

"You're right, i definitely should kiss the love of my life" and he did.

He kissed you like he had for the first time. So soft and slow, like he wanted to imprint it to his mind, so he could remember it forever. It was a kiss, full of raw emotions.

"Fuck, i can't wait to marry you" Peter sighed against your lips.

He fidgeted with your fingers and said, "i don't have the ring yet, but i'll go and buy you the most perfect one for you tomorrow."

"I'm sure, i'll love it" you shyly beamed and Peter kissed you again.

...

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Hey guys, thank you for reading. I had to post this for the second time, it wouldn't show up in the tags....

Let me know what you think. Feedback is always appreciated.

Have a great day and stay safe everybody. Peace out ☀️

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