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bowieandqueen11 · 9 months

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Tobey!Peter Parker Dating A Plus Size Reader Would Include...

Request: Hello! I know I sent requests for "random request go!" so feel free to ignore me. I was just wondering - I was reading again your Spider-Man stuff (cause it is FANTASTIC <3 ) and I saw that in your note to "Andrew!Peter x Plus Size!Reader" you said that if anybody would ever want to, you'd be willing to write Tobey!Peter x Plus Size!Reader too. I was wondering if that's still the case. Cause if yes, I'd love to see it one day! No pressure of course, you can skip it if you want! Have a great day!

Oh my gosh lovely of course I will thank you so much, I didn't think anyone actually read those notes aha but I'm so happy you did!! Between Across the Spiderverse (which I still haven't seen yet I'm so slow!) and the Insomniac Spiderman trailer I am being well fed :)

Warning: mentions of blood/injury!

(I do not own Spider-Man or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @fmribeiro01.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

I'm not joking even THINKING about this as a concept is making me squeal because like?? Tobey Peter?? Omg. Absolutely adores you. 24/7, non stop heart eyes motherfcker. Be ready for him to give you looks of such gut wrenching love and vulnerability that you'll just want to squish his cheeks together and kiss his forehead like the puppy he is.

You were 100% Peter's childhood crush, no question asked. You were always invited around to Peter's birthday parties, where the two of you would be thick as thieves for the whole night. Even poor exasperated Harry would find it oddly adorable when it was time to give Petey his cake, and he would bashfully pull out the chair beside him at the table for you to scoot onto. He thought he was so slick, bless his heart, when he reached over to fix your wonky party hat with his tiny shaking fingers, or shyly looked over at the rim of uneven frosting towards you when Aunt May carried out the homemade cake and told him to make a wish. You were always the last one to be picked up, despite living right next door: Ben, the sly old fox, could see how enamoured Peter was. How he had the firmest grip he had ever seen his nephew squeeze out around your arm, and how Peter stood holding the present you had given him in his other hand, not even noticing it because he was too busy fervently nodding and being strung along by every word you would say.

Ben would stall your parents at the door, blocking the way in by pretending to lean on his elbow, and spouting off about whether he was going to paint the living room a periwinkle or an egg shell blue. When your parents finally started to get impatient, you kissed Peter on the side of his cheek and left with a big wave, not really noticing the way he was standing stock-still, his fingers tentatively touching the side of his face and his mouth agape, blubbering like a blow fish. May has never seen him run so fast up the staircase, but Peter's so desperate to curl up alone under his duvet and thank whatever he can think of for making his wish come true, touching the wet imprint of your lips with a revered awe. Eventually, his giggling gets so loud during the night, that Ben has to come out and close over his door so he and May can get at least a little sleep.

A lot of your teenage years is spent with you jumping over your chain link fence in the middle of the night to meet a very anxious looking Peter, whose face quickly grows into a bright smile when he pulls the latest edition of the comic series you've been share-reading out from behind his back. Sitting on the cold tile by his garage, the night would slowly weave diamond dust through the sky, and sparkling joy through the irises of Peter's eye as the two of you stuck your heads together and poured over the pages. Every so often he would have to blink away, pretending he was fixing his glasses because you would catch the side-eye look he was giving you.

By the end of the night, you've fallen asleep, slobbering onto Peter's shoulder. He hasn't moved an inch: as still as marble, and doing his best to hold his breath so he doesn't rustle you, and so he can memorise the way your gratifying weight feels against the side of his shoulder. So he can imprint into his mind how tender your skin feels against his burning neck. It's only when Aunt May comes out to shake the two of you awake from the school bus that he runs into the kitchen all flustered. He grabs his backpack, and says goodbye, but refuses to change his jumper because he can still feel your imprint against the coarse wool.

From time to time that day, you'll peer round the door of your locker to catch him leaning into his, so giddy he's almost vibrating on the spot, which is probably why he's so distracted he bangs his head on the metal top of his own locker door oops.

Lunch that afternoon is even worse! Sitting diagonal across from Peter, you slide into the table next to an already frustrated looking Harry, whose kicking Pete's feet under the table and making incredibly unsubtle raised eyebrow points your way. He's so sick of the way his best friend will spend every minute of his time with you just staring: peering over his fruit pot, blabbering incoherently to himself with ruddy cheeks when he passes you the salt and your pinkie fingers brush, looking at your reflection in his spoon, pretending to stretch his arms and yawn just so he can 'look around the room', which also just so happens to be only the part that you're sitting in. He just wants his friend to be happy, and honestly, he's kind of dumbstruck that the two of you aren't together already, considering his eyes light up like gold-struck dawn every time he sees you.

It's only when Flash Thompson passes by and knocks Peter's elbow out from under him that he finally stops staring over at you. Mainly because his eyes are too busy slamming into his lunch tray, and breaking the bridge of his glasses down hard against his nose. The spell you wisp around his heart is finally broken when the blood starts gushing down his nose, and you have to half-carry him to the medical office. He spends 50% of the time walking there apologising to you, and the other 50% of the time is spent trying to stop his fingers from clenching into your arm. You've tucked him into your side, holding half his torso against you so he can spend most of his effort on pinching his nose, but he doesn't even care that he's swallowing blood anymore, he's so focused on how close he's pressed up against you. The feeling only grows more fervent, more needy, until he's twitching his thighs against the nurse's table to try and get himself to calm down, when you stay with him for the rest of the period to try and wipe some of the blood away. The way you're so close to his lips, the way that your gentle fingers are dabbing so close to his mouth that he can feel his rushing breath brush against your hairs is making him go cross-eyed with how much he's trying to focus on you.

'You know...', you start after a minute, biting your bottom lip nervously as you continued to dab at peter's nostril. 'I have eyes, Petey.'

'I-I know that, silly', he says, his breath coming out in a confused gasp. 'Me too!'

'I- I know you've been looking at me. Because I've been looking at you, too.'

His heart seems to be slamming into the caged cavity of his ribs, and yet everything seems to simultaneously be standing still: caught in a hazy, gliding, wavering dream as you slowly... ever so slowly drop the cloth into the sink, and break through the few inches between the two of you to press your lips against his top one.

For a moment, Peter is so shocked all he can do is widen his eyes, not even processing that the thing he's spent every moment of his waking and sleeping life wishing for ever since he was a child was happening right now. He tries really hard to stop his whole body from shaking, as his silky lashes finally falter shut against the top of your cheeks and he tries to focus his whole attention on the way your plush lip seems to press so perfectly against his own. After a few seconds though, when he hears the clattering of trays fall to the floor and the darkness he was letting himself fall willingly down into seems a little harder to blink out of, he realises the sound was him.

You're worried you've upset him, or stepped too far, or misconstrued his intentions when Peter falls backwards off you, but that's quickly replaced by frantic concern when he starts sliding to the floor. Thankfully, your reflexes are almost as good as his, and you're quick to wrap your arm around his back and cradle his head against your breastbone before he can slam his head against the floor again. He has to spend the rest of the day lying in the office's bed waiting until Uncle Ben can pick him up, but it was completely worth it. As he gazes up at the inane, plastered ceiling, suddenly everything else in life seemed so silly and pointless. All he cared about was rubbing his pointer finger over the wet patch of your saliva still dotted against his bottom lip, his eyes filled with a million bursting stars as he saw beyond the ceiling and into the skies, thanking it for making his birthday wish come true.

The two of you move into his crumby apartment after high school, and honestly? It's the happiest time in Peter's life. Sure, it may be small, and the walls may be flaky and they may shake every time a train rolls past the tracks outside, but every time he comes home to them he's greeted by the memories of the two of you laying against them like when you were kids, falling asleep against each other's heads as you read into the night. Sure, Ditkovich may hound the two of you constantly for rent, and the afternoons may be drowned out by the sound of his friends playing poker a couple of doors over, but they were so easy to forget in the evenings when you turned on your slightly dented radio and made a flustered Peter dance with you across the room, not stopping until you had him held tightly in your arms and he was so embarrassed with his two left feet that he was hiding his head in the curve of your luscious neck.

And sure, you may have picked up pretty quickly that Peter was Spiderman, considering he keeps hopping out the balcony at random hours and leaves his suit sometimes crumpled at the bottom of the closet, but you love him. And he adores you more than anything any universe could throw at him. So life, for the most part, is good.

Honestly, it's so cosy living with him?? Peter literally has spider strength, so he adores it when you lie on top of him in your bed. After a while of just nattering peacefully to each other about your days, winding down by playing with each other's fingers and sneaking kisses through the brackets of your arms, he feels so at peace to feel your weight familiarly resting on top of him. This need increases tenfold after he loses Ben, I think there's something so comforting to him, to know and feel that you're still so close to him, that he can synch the anxious patter of his heart against your own. He's so sweet bless him. he gets so sleepy that his head keeps falling down on top of your own, but he's so quick to lift it up again. He blinks languidly, that honey-sweet, silvery smile shadowed only by the tempered glow of the warm moonlight drifting through the balcony as he tries desperately to keep himself awake, giving his full attention to you.

There's just something about drifting off to the sound of your voice, knowing that for once, he's safe. That he's wrapped up, looked after, comforted by the love of his life. It just feels really nice to be the one coddled from time to time.

Sometimes, you'll jolt awake in the dead of night by the sound of some strange, wistful whispering echoing from somewhere in the near empty room. It takes your brain a little whirring time to realise it's coming from the hand that's spooning your waist, and the nose that's pressed tightly against the back of your thigh. Turns out Peter spends a lot of his sleepless nights tracing over your stretch marks, nestling down your back and reverently dancing his fingers up and down the tiger stipes on your waist. Every so often, he would rub his nose against their aureate lines in a fond kiss, gingerly resting his cheek against your bare skin again as he tried not to wake you up. What really made your heart melt, though, was the way an awe-struck 'wow' would slip from his lips in such a reverential tone, that Peter became so overwhelmed and could do nothing else but leave a small kiss against the side of your leg, dotted by slick tears.

This man picks you up on his scooter after your shift at work, mainly because 1) you are a much better driver than him, and it actually gets home in one piece rather than being tangled under a car wheel somewhere, and 2) when he's super stressed he finds it so comforting to wrap his arms around your side and press his forehead tightly into your back, letting the whole world melt away until nothing but whirling air and the scent of you is left. He always arrives outside your office building ten minutes early, making your secretary laugh when she spots him straightening his best flowery tie in the reflection of the waste bin by the bench outside. He has his best suit on, freshly pressed, and is nervously stepping from foot to foot with a crumpled bouquet of roses in his hand, like a teenager waiting to ask his crush to prom.

Every. Single. Day. You honestly just wait for the secretary to buzz you so you can grab your coat and run outside; you know far too well that Peter either dumps his Spidey suit through the window, or just wears his proper suit underneath so he isn't late. Doesn't matter if he has to catch five buses from the Daily Bugle, or has to 'borrow' his moped from 'Joe's Pizza' to get there on time, he's always there. And he always wants to look his best for you, even though he's still so surprised that someone as ethereal as you would even bother to look his way that he has to shuffle a handkerchief out of his trouser pocket and dab at the sweat beading on his forehead.

It's either that, or Peter scaring the bejesus out of you by picking you up with his webs. You'll just be minding your own business, walking down the sidewalk on your way back from your lunch break, only to be hoisted, screaming into the air and past an equally petrified looking pigeon. Peter does feel bad the first time he did this, since you were screaming the whole time he swung you, but you've settled into a better routine now. You've found it easier to watch the scattered tiles of churches and the blurred crests of building whiz by while you're holding on tightly to his waist, and your feet are firmly pressed on top of his own so he can keep you steady against him. I mean, you might still bury your head into his shoulder blade in absolute terror, but he makes it up to you by landing you down gracefully on top of your office a couple of minutes before you go back in.

The adrenaline from swinging about New York makes the kisses far more heated, and it's always helpful to have a little privacy when you pull the edge of his latex mask harshly up past the bridge of his nose and nearly knock him flying over the cornerstones with how fervidly you smash your lips against him. His arms instinctively come to wrap around you, and even he's grown a little more emboldened by the knowledge that you actually do love him and this isn't some cruel villain trick or high school prank, to open his mouth and press his tongue lovingly against yours. He never wants to let you go, so before he lets you go back to your job he gives you a tight hug, and presses a million warm little kisses in a treasure trail down the pulse point in your neck.

This man literally has like... two outfits, so he's constantly wearing your clothes! Surprise! You come home to find him sitting criss-cross on the bed, face bruised and tired worn from his latest clash with Doc Ock, but your sweatshirt tucked over him and lifted up against his cheeks like a little hidden koala bear. Surprise! You plan a surprise birthday party for him with Aunt May, only for him to turn up after work wearing one of your jumpers! It's just so snug, and homey, and it reminds Peter of when he was ten years old; when you came round to sleepover, and the two of you would crash on his mat after spending so long pouring through and excitedly talking about the new quantum theories in the science magazines he used to buy with his pocket money, Peter would shuffle up beside you. With a sharp breath, he would tentatively turn on his side and pray he wouldn't wake you up, curling into the foetal position. With a smile like dawn breaking through the soft tufts of a cloud, he would press his nose into your shoulder and just breathe you in, hoping he would never forget it as long as he lived.

This man loves to take you out dancing, mainly so he can grin wildly and show you off to every other customer in the restaurant. Every time he passes the waiter, or the Maitre d', he points wildly at your back and mouths ecstatically 'that's my Y/n!'. He legitimately pools all the money he's made from the photography, and from the pizza delivery together so he can take you to a fancy restaurant uptown. He feels so nervous when he gets up with that breathless smile and offers you his hand, but all his troubles just immediately melt away once he feels your hand brush over the strands of hair at the nape of his neck. He falls against you, easily caught just like he was all those years ago. Your fingers feel so soft, so perfect as they slot between his own, although his left hand never stops rubbing over the supple skin of your waist as he sways the two of you back and forth in time to the dream-like lullaby of the string quartet.

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

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You again, Spider | Spider-Man Prequel Series P.7

Follows the events of Spider-Man 2

Catch up on parts 1–6 -> Series Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Tobey!Peter Parker x female!reader/ Black Cat (romantic), tobey!peter x Mary Jane Watson (only for S1), Harry Osborn, Gwen Stacy, Eddie Brock, Norman Osborn, Otto Octavius, J. Jonah Jameson (pretty much every character from the Raimi trilogy)

Content Warnings: profanity, criminal activity, flirtatious banter | Female reader (she/her)

Premise: Peter’s plans never seem to work out—which has become more prominent as he struggles to balance both a civilian and superhero life. Unable to see MJ’s show, Peter starts his night on patrol only to find himself in a pickle when his webs seem to fail on him. And he’s not the only one to witness it happen, because a curious cat lurks in the shadows.

Note: I know this is short, but the next few will be longer I promise.

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One second Peter Parker, donned in red and swinging across New York city after failing to make it to Mary Janes show, thinks everything is going to be fine. He’ll get to class early, apply for another job, and try to get MJ to forgive him. Then the next second, he finds himself in a pickle. A pickle in which he’s falling through the air and landing, very hard, on the roof of a building. Thankfully the air vent tunnel broke his fall.

But his back was going to take the brute of it.

Peter was sure all of New York could hear his scream. Limbs failing all around until eventually he let out a nasty grunt upon making impact. Huffing, he pulled himself up and cranked his neck. ‘What the hell?’ He thought to himself. What occurred had never happened before. There was already so much going on, the last thing Peter needed was for his powers to start acting up. As hand started to rise, preparing to take off his mask, a faint giggle stopped him before he could. A familiar giggle at that.

Turning around, Peter froze when he located the source. “You,” he said aloud. She was sitting perched on the ledge of the opposite building looking down on him. The Black Cat. The name of New York’s newly infamous cat burglar, dubbed by J. Jonah Jameson of the Daily Bugle himself. For almost two years she’s managed to rob over a thousand businesses and high profiled individuals—all while keeping out of Spider-Man’s reach. Rumor has it the Black Cat has been working for the organized crime boss Kingpin.

Like Spider-Man, no one has successfully identified the woman. It’s said her white hair is actually a wig, the color of her eyes are contacts, the mask she wears muffles her voice and there’s no hints as to what her background may be. All that was known about the cat burglar was she was great at breaking & entering, handling a grappling hook, and making a fashion statement. Since she rose to ‘fame’ there had been an increase in black leather sales.

And here she was looking down at Peter with a glint in her eyes. “You again, Spider.” There was no doubt she just witnessed him fall several stories and break his back and ass on the vent tunnel. It’s a good thing she laughed, otherwise Peter would’ve exposed himself. “That look liked it hurt.”

“Well it sure didn’t feel like a massage, that’s for sure.”

Another giggle, “What happened, Spider? Got your webs in a twist?”

“Feels like it,” he mumbled, but she heard nonetheless. Her eyebrow quirked up, almost disappearing beneath the black outline of her mask. Peter shook his head before asking, “Been busy tonight causing trouble?” The twitch beneath her mask gave him the answer.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She pushes off the ledge, landing on the roof of the building he was on in a cat-like pose. As she stood she said, “it’s been busy these days. I’ve moved up in the ranks than just a simple gem burglar.”

Tension filled Peter, eyes narrowing under his mask. “So it’s true then. You’re working for Fisk?”

“More like returning some favors I owe him.” She walked over slowly, but doesn’t get close enough. It was tempting for Peter to shoot a web at her, to prevent her from getting away, but given it just failed to swing him there was a chance it would not work. She probably knew this too and was testing him.

“He’s a dangerous man.”

Something flashed in her eyes. “All men are dangerous.” Peter wanted to defend himself, but knew it would do no good. There obviously was a deeper meaning to her words. Part of him wanted to know, but out of respect he did not question her.

Instead he changed the subject. “So…I’m sorry I don’t know what to call you? Black Cat? Cat? Person who’s calling me trouble?”

“ooo I like trouble,” she hums, hopping onto a thin ledge to balance herself. Peter nearly rushes when it looks like she stumbles in her high heels, but she simply was doing a turn. “Cat is also nice. Fits since I call you Spider.”

Peter tries to ignore the anxiety filling him as she continues to spin and twirl on the ledge. One wrong move and she would go over the building. And unlike his downfall, there would only be hard pavement to catch her fall.

But then again she had her grappling hook and managed just fine for two years. Maybe he was worrying too much.

“Anyways….Cat, what’s caused you to just..” he waves his hands awkwardly and she just tilts her head him. Peter then sighs, “you know. For two years you’ve kept hidden from me. Now all of a sudden you—.”

“Well when you hear Spider-Man screaming for dear life and literally falling out of the sky, it makes one curious don’t you think?” She does a handstand, making Peter’s breath catch before coming down and flipping off onto the roof. “I know, I know, curiosity is what killed the cat. But considering your….technical difficulties regarding your webs, I doubt that will happen tonight of all nights.”

He scoffs, “don’t get too cocky now.” It only makes her giggle, rolling her eyes in the process. When she does another spin he catches sight of the grappling hook attached to her side. “I take it was a slow night then, considering you stopped whatever it was to come check on me.”

“Check on you?” She repeats amused, then gives a shrug. “I guess you can call it that. Would’ve been tragic to find New York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man knocking on deaths door. What happened anyway?” He could hear the curiosity in her tone. It made him unease, for she could surely take advantage of the situation at any second.

“I’m really not sure,” he says honestly, glancing down to his wrists. He pulls the suit down slightly to check and finds nothing wrong with it. “Some kind of spoof. B-but I’m sure it won’t happen again,” he rushes out urgently, assuring mostly himself than her. She just gives a ‘hmmm.’

A few seconds of silence pass over them. Neither knowing what to say next. It felt a little awkward, but then again what does a superhero and their criminal nemesis talk about after two years since their last encounter?

Then she started to snap her fingers, pointing him as if she was trying to put a name to something. “You know, there’s something familiar about you. But I just can’t put a name to it.” Peter tenses lightly, tilting his head as he stares back.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she affirms, bringing her pointer finger to her chin to tap it. “There’s something about your…..aura, I guess. Like I’ve met you outside of this,” she gestures between them. Again, a rush anxiety fills Peter. What if she was right? Could they have they met at some point in the civilian world?

It was possible. But New York is huge with millions of people alone in the city. Maybe Peter walked passed her on the street and had no idea. Or photographed her in the background in one of his photos. Maybe he was just some bloke to her who bumped into her on the subway. Whatever it was Peter didn’t dwell on it. As long as he didn’t give himself away than he was safe.

It would be bad news if a associate of Wilson Fisk knew his identity.

“Eh, who am I kidding?” She then chuckles, making him relax. “Big city, big world. I’ve robbed people who��ve met me in everyday life and they have no idea. Gotta love living this life off the grid.”

“Hehe. Yeah,” he scratches his neck. Crisis averted. Peter then looks at her both with curiosity and suspicion. “Why do you do it anyway? Rob high profile people like it’s nothing?”

There’s a light scoff from the Cat, her hand brushing hair from her face. “Wouldn’t you if you had the chance?”

“Committing crimes is not really my forte, as you can see.”

“Well duh,” she rolls her eyes again. “How could you be the cities favorite vigilante if you did? Anyway the point is, Spider, I don’t take from those who are in need of it. Basically they’ll still be fine if they were to lose a couple thousand dollars or that watch worth 25k, or even one of their dozen cars collecting dust in a garage.”

All Peter could do was let his mouth slightly part open. Of course she didn’t see it. “It’s still stealing,” he tells her, hand going out as if to emphasize his point. “You’re still committing a crime.” While he could agree that it was unfair how the rich slept comfortably at night while thousands of people were homeless or barely making it day by day, the law was still the law.

“Ugh,” she made a gagging sound while waving a hand. “Self-righteousness is so overrated, Spider. Think of all that could be done if they were to give up just a faction of what they make. Kids in the orphanage would have plenty of clothes and food and things to keep them entertained. The soup kitchen and shelter could house more people on the street and give them a warm bed at night. Schools in the projects would be funded.” With each sentence she got more passionate, he could see it in her eyes.

The thought then crossed him, “Are you saying you don’t keep the things you steal?” There was a flare of respect and admiration to the burglar. “You essentially give it back to those in need.”

There’s a flicker of pride in her eyes as she nods, “Although I do keep a small percentage to myself. As a treat, you know. But the majority does go to those things. There are more people in this city deserving of it than some greedy corporate scammers.”

Peter was astonished. Never has he met someone so selfless—ignoring the part where she does keep a bit because honestly he couldn’t blame her—but still, not many criminals were like her. There was still the question though, “Why Fisk?”

“Like I said, favors.”

“Okayyyy,” he draws out, “But how? He’s the most dangerous and well known crime boss in the city. How does a lone cat burglar get on his radar?” Something in her gaze told him she wasn’t in the mood to get into it. The talk of curiosity killing the cat dawned on him—only it was in regards to him and not the one with the namesake.

“Let’s save that for another day, Spider. Long stories require time and that’s something you and I don’t have right now. Better to leave things unsaid—for safety reasons of course.” He sees her glance over her shoulder, as if to check if someone is watching. Then he remembered Fisk always had spies at the ready for his employees.

“Sure thing,” he agrees, also taking a moment to scout the area. Luckily nothing was out of the ordinary. The only thing they could hear was the sounds coming from down below.

She clapped her hands, the sound making him jump slightly. “Well then, this is where I take my leave. It was fun running into you again—although it was very unorthodox if I must say.” She starts to walk toward the ledge, Peter follows her but keeps distance. When her back is to him he attempts a web in her direction, but nothing comes out. “Nice try,” she calls out, causing him to freeze as heat takes over his body.

“Couldn’t hurt to try,” he mumbles under his breath.

She laughs, spinning on her heal to face him. White hair whips against the slight breeze and her hand goes to her grappling hook. “I’ll be seeing you, Spider,” she makes a motion of her eyes to his. “Hopefully you’re little problem will be fixed. Can’t have a spider without it’s web.”

The young man sighs, defeated and annoyed by the timing. Finally the Black Cat was in his grasps, but he failed to catch her once again. “Catch you later, Cat. Literally.” The last word makes her laugh again, this time harder with her head tilting back. She even wipes away a fake tear much to his annoyance.

“You’re funny, Spider.” The grappling hook removes from it’s holster. “You’re an optimist. I’ll give you that.” With one last wink followed by a ‘see ya,’ the hook shoots off to the adjacent building, pulling the woman off her feet and into the air. She swings past Peter and out of his sight. Gone in the blink of an eye.

All Peter could do was drop his head to his shoulders, shaking it as it goes. First disappointing MJ, then his web situation, now loosing the Cat amongst it all. Luck was just not in the cards for Peter Parker. Or Spider-Man.

Would he ever get a break? Not even an elevator ride would give him that.

………………..

Tag list: @todaywasafairytale07, @r0bynsblogins, @edgycatx, @gwephen, @fuck-goes-on, @m-1234, @secretsthathauntus, @grippleback-galaxy

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imkindaschizoidontknow · 2 months

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Stress reliever

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Summary: Peter Parker needs to relieve some stress 🤷‍♀️ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

W!: harsh language, oral (fem receiving), mature content, MINORS DNI

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Peter storms into her room after school.

“Can I eat you out?” He asks, he looks frustrated and tired, the way he asked that question was hastily, almost like he’d been waiting to ask that question since the moment he woke up.

“Huh?” She questions, she’s taken aback by his words, especially since he was acting completely normal today in school, what had gotten into him?

“Can I eat you out? Please?” He repeats, he looks at her expectantly and she laughs. “Well I’m not gonna turn down that offer” she chuckles and he throws his bag down on the floor of her room, quickly kicking the door shut as he slides off his shoes. “What’s gotten into you? Why do you wanna, well, you know” she questions. He’s never like this, he normally eats her out before sex. It’s never like this.

“I need to relieve some stress” he slips off his hoodie and throws it on the floor before laying next to her on her bed and placing a kiss to her lips. She smiles into the kiss, her heart racing. He fondles with her breast and her hand finds its way into his hair, tangling itself in the silky brown mess.

His hand moves from her chest and trails its way down to her lower stomach pressing lightly. She gasps as she feels his hand on her heat. “Fuck,” she gasps out and pulls away from the kiss. He sits up and crawls in between her legs pulling off her shorts and pressing his thumb against her clothed clit. She gasps and squeezes her eyes shut. He looks at her as he slides her underwear off. She can’t help but smile and bite her lip as she sees her boyfriend between her legs. She props her legs up on her feet to give him an easier access to her pussy. He snakes his arms under her legs, resting his large hands on her waist before he buries his head in her pussy, licking and sucking her clit, tasting her juices.

“Fuck!” She covers her mouth with her hands and her hands snake their way into his hair, pushing down on his head lightly. He emerges from her pussy, lightly rubbing her clit with his thumb. “Can you believe Mr. Harrington sent me to the principals office for showing up to his class late?” He says as he rubs her clit gently. “Ah~”

“Even though this was like, my first time showing up to his class late in, what, two fucking months! He’s so fucking selfish-“ he begins to rub her faster “F-fuck! Ah,” “And not only that, we had to have an emergency Decathlon meeting because Abe forgot to send in our paperwork to qualify for the tournament this year!” He slows down rubbing her clit, but he moves his hand down to her hole, “Ah, oh, gosh!” “So now, fucking Cindy and I have to redo all of the goddamn paperwork!” He pushes a finger inside of her “Oh fuck,” “Abe’s a cunt, I hope he dies. He could’ve just told somebody else to do it” “mm~ mmhm” “Like, if you know you have fucking badminton practice the same time you received the email to do the paperwork, then you could’ve just told Harrington that you had badminton! Can you believe that!?” “Mm~ y-yeah baby, unbelievable,” he begins to quicken the pace of his finger inside of her, and she gasps, “Oh! Gosh! Peter!” “Decathlon has me so tired, M’sorry that I don’t hang out with you much anymore because of it,” “N-No, it’s, ah, it’s f-fine” he sticks another finger inside of her, “Oh! And also, and especially this, is what ruined my day even more! I was in line for lunch and I decided to buy a jell-O, because I don’t usually have enough money to buy it, but they raised the price by 3 goddamn dollars!” “Ah! Fuck,” “I know, right! I wanted to cry, I just wanted some fucking jell-O,” “oh gosh! Peter,”

He quickens the pace of the fingers inside of her and buries his head in his pussy, his tongue circling around her clit, “and the lunch lady told me that I was short, but she basically yelled it out for everyone and their mom the hear!” “Fuck! Peter!” “Oh, sorry” he licks her clit quickly as he fingers her pussy. “Oh! Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!” “Cum for me baby,” he says as he slurps up all of her juices, and he quickens the pace of his fingers inside of her, “Oh! Ah, I’m, I’m cumming!” Her back arches off the bed as he cums, hot liquid oozing out of her and onto his fingers “good girl,” he praises her as he takes slows down the pace of his fingers and stops licking her.

“You’re so pretty when you cum,” he praises her as he watches her chest rise and fall, she asks “fuck, how stressed were you?” And he laughs, “did I make you cum that hard?” “Yes! I can’t feel my legs!”

“Aw, I’m sorry, honey, I’ll make it up to you” he slips his finger out of her pussy and sucks on them slowly and seductively, as he stares at her, “You’re such a slut!” She says and he laughs, “I can’t help it, you taste so sweet”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I am SO sorry for that ending 😭 I could’ve done that better but hopefully you enjoyed the rest of it

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker #smut #marvel smut #marvel mcu #tom holland #andrew garfield #tobey maguire #marvel

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mischievous-thunder · 7 months

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spider-stark · 27 days

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INFINITELY YOU

part two // crullers & constants

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

WORD COUNT - 4.2k

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

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

Peter Pan Donuts is a sacred place.

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

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

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

Or, at least, none that mattered.

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

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

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

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

And Peter never even asked why.

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

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

And how true that must have been.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did he?”

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

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

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

“Well did he have anything useful?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mj happened.”

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

“Yep. That’s the one.”

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

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

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

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

You sucked in a breath.

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

His brow snapped up. “What changed?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not pretending-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

series masterlist

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

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

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

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lotus-n-l0ve · 10 months

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𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐀 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐞𝐞

— Peter Parker x Stark!Female Reader

☯ SYNOPSIS : When Peter's girlfriend pays him a little visit in Midtown High School and meets his long time bully, Flash Thompson.

☯ WARNINGS : Au, stark!reader, Peter is barely present in the fic, cursing.

☯ NOTE FROM LOTUS : Hey guys. I have been having such a bad writer's block that I couldn't write anything for past few weeks. I'm writing this to, hopefully, get over my writer's block.

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 || 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The red Saleen S7 car, parked outside of Midtown High School, gaining curious glances from the students and passersby. You wait, sitting on the driver's seat, with your phone in your hand. The past week you were out of the country with your father so you had not seen him for the past seven days and barely got to talk to him.

So when you came back today, you wanted to give him a surprise visit. You came here, all confident, but now you were doubting your choices. Maybe you should just wait till school ends?

Fuck it. You are Y/N Stark, girl. Since when do you get nervous?

You checked yourself last time in the back mirror. Perfect as always. You throw yourself a flying kiss and put on your favourite pair of glasses. The car door opens with a click and you get down. It was not long before you were walking down the halls of Midtown High, making everyone stop what they were doing and gawk at you.

You chuckle in your mind. Of course you loved being the centre of attention. You were Tony Stark's daughter after all. Now there's one problem. You don't know exactly where Peter is. You look around the hall before your eyes fall on a boy, sitting with two girl on each side.

Without any second thoughts, you walk up to him, "Hey, do you know where Peter Parker is?"

Flash tore his eyes from the beautiful girls in his arm to the legs standing in front of him. He raised his eyes to your face. His gaze so disgusting that made you want to throw up.

"Talking to me, angel?" Flash stood up, abandoning the girls.

You roll your eyes at his pathetic attempt of flirting. At least he got the angel part right.

"I asked if you know where Peter Parker is." You deadpan.

"Peter Parker? Oh! You mean penis Parker. What do you need with him? I'm sure I can help you way more than he can." Flash wiggled his eyebrows at you, giving you a suggestive look.

You just stared at him, completely unimpressed and now angered. This pathetic flirt has the audacity to call your baby penis— wait a damn minute. Penis Parker? Something clicked in your mind.

"Are you Flash Thompson?" You ask before you could stop yourself.

Surprise flashed on his face before a smug smirk appeared on his face.

"Wow! I know that I'm famous but not much. Damn!" He said, running a hand through his hair.

You giggle at his ignorance as you take off your glasses. Folding it and keeping it safely in your hand bag, you step towards him, closing the distance between you two.

"Listen here you little shit." The smirk on his fell at your words, "If I ever hear from Peter that even got anywhere near him, I'll kidnap you, shave off your head, leave you on a deserted island and post your disgusting nudes all over the internet."

"Wh—"

"Shut up and listen." Flash gulped with fear, his face covered in sweat. The menacing aura around you looked scarier than the monster under his bed.

You say while jabbing on his forehead with your pointer finger, "Don't think of him, don't look at him, don't walk on his direction, don't breathe on his direction. Don't go anywhere around my boyfriend. Got it, you failed experiment of a chimpanzee?"

"Y-yes, I....um, I-I..... I under-understand." He nodded his head vigorously. Anything to get away from you.

"Good." You back away, giving him space to finally breathe in relief. Fuck! He didn't know Peter's girlfriend was this scary.

"Y/N?" The familiar voice of your boyfriend called from behind and your demeanour changed like lizards change colours.

"Hey, Pete." You walk up, giving him a quick kiss, "let's go, you are skipping class today. I missed you."

You linked your arm with him and started dragging him out of the school. Peter complied with you because he did miss you a lot too and skipping one day was not going to do any harm on him.

"I missed you a lot." Peter smiled down at you.

You left the school, leaving behind a embarrassed Flash. After you two left did Flash realised the crowd of students circling around him in the hallway. And they were chuckling while looking down at his pants?

Flash looked, "FUCK!"

His blue jeans were now dark blue, water spread on the floor around him. He had peed in his pants. His face turned red with anger and embarrassment. He should not have fucked with Peter.

FUCK!

All the rights and credits of the characters, gifs, songs and pictures used here belongs to their rightful owners.

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abibliophobiaa · 2 years

Note

Peter getting his wisdom teeth removed and just being super clingy and affectionate with reader, i love ur stuff btw :)))

thank you so much for this one! haha i love best friends to lovers with my whole heart. so hope you enjoy. 🤍🤍 only fluff ahead. fem!reader.

When Peter asks you to take him to get his wisdom teeth out, you’re more than willing to help. His Aunt May happened to be working a late shift last minute, leaving you to wait in the oral surgeon’s office as they take your best friend back into the operating room.

A little over an hour—and a few outdated celebrity magazines later—and one of the dental assistants calls you back into the room to retrieve your friend who is currently perched on a chair, staring down at his shoelaces intently.

“Did you know I have eight shoelaces? I guess I tied my shoes extra tight this morning.”

Double vision. That’s right.

“There’s two of you, too. Two is better than one, so they say.” He holds up two fingers in his excitement of seeing you, earning a giggle from the woman standing in the corner.

“Is he okay to go home?” You ask, moving closer to Peter. Snorting at the wads of gauze balled up in his mouth, garbling his speech.

“Yes, his surgery went great. The doctor gave a packet of what to expect during recovery. He should come back in a week or so to check up on his stitches, but other than that you are both good to go.”

At that, you gesture for Peter to get up off of the chair and grunt as he slams into your side. Feet very much that of a baby doe’s. Once he’s upright, you press into his side just to be extra safe and lead him toward the door the assistant opens for the two of you to pass through.

“Ha. There’s still two of you. Two of the prettiest person in the whole world.” He bops you on the nose, wrinkling his own in his laughter. “I’m a lucky guy.”

“Okay Casanova, let’s get you home.”

Getting him into the car proves to be interesting. He’s all gangly and floppy limbs. The sedation still making him unaware of his surrounding as you finagle him into the seat.

His legs remain on the outside of the car, fingers moving to turn the knob on the volume of the radio and raising it to an obscene volume as he shouts the words to the song through the cottony mouth he sports.

“But you’re in London and I break down ‘cause it’s not fair that you’re not arounddddd…” He drums out the beat on the dashboard as you shove at his feet. “This is when the feeling sinks in, I don’t wanna miss you like thisss. Come back, be here. Come back—”

“Hey, hey. We don’t want to cause a public disturbance, now do we? Plus I think we should leave Taylor to do what she does best—”

You wave your hands in the air in your victory as you manage to get the rest of him inside the car and close the door shut.

“You know I met her, right? Nice lady,” he says as you drop down onto the driver’s seat and shift the car into drive.

“You mean Spider-Man met her.”

“Spider-Man. Schmider-Man. I’ll have you know I’m a great singer. Some people just don’t appreciate real talent when they hear it.” He pouts, reaching into his mouth to pluck the gauze from within his cheeks.

Your hand reaches out immediately to curl around his forearm. He stills. “You’re not supposed to take that out.”

“Oh. That’s right. I’m sorry.”

It’s the dejected tone in his voice that rips your heart down the middle as you pull into his Aunt’s driveway. You turn to look at him, noting the way his eyes roam your features.

“You gonna help me get you inside, big guy?”

His eyebrows waggle seductively at the ‘big guy’ comment and you don’t even want to know where his anesthesia addled mind runs off to. Can’t be anywhere good what with the way he’s eyeballing you like that. You chalk it up to him not being in his right mind and help him walk up the short distance to the home before leading him into his bedroom.

“Alright, into bed you go.”

“Trying to get me into bed, hmm, Daisy?”

Daisy for your favorite flowers growing up.

Your heart always skips when he says it—this time no exception. His sluggish smirk teases at the fact he recognizes the uptick as well. But you clear your throat and shove the emotions aside.

“Come on now.”

He does as told, lowering himself onto his back beneath the comforters. You manage to tug his shoes off as he cozies up and move to head back down the hall when he calls your name.

“Yes, Pete?”

“I’m tired. Can you come here?”

“It’s just the anesthesia. It’ll taper off,” you reassure him, hand gripping the doorframe.

His eyes go soft around the edges and you note the slight downturn of that full mouth. Groan and separate yourself away from the door as you climb into bed beside him. You both turn onto your sides, hands resting in between the two of you. His eyes growing heavier and heavier by the second.

“Thank you,” he mutters.

“No problem. Now try to get some sleep.”

He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable beside you. “Okay, okay. Night, Daisy. I love you.”

And then he’s out like a light. As if he never said those three words and left them suspended in the air between the two of you. You know it’s only the looseness of his lips due to what they’ve sedated him with, yet your mind races anyway.

You’ve felt something far outside the realm of friendship toward Peter for ages now. Months, really. The prospect of him ever feeling the same seems so unlikely. It doesn’t happen that way in real life, right? Not like in the stories or the movies where the best friends fall in love.

So you decide to shelve his words into a folder in your mind labeled “Not going to happen” and close your eyes.

When you wake, you’re a tangle of limbs with Peter. Legs intertwining. His thighs slotting between yours as he holds you from behind. Arm right around your waist. Cradling your back against his chest.

A slow, simmering nervousness begins to form low in your gut. This has certainly never happened before. And likely would not be happening were it not for the lingering after effects of his surgery.

“What’s wrong?” A voice asks from behind you, warm breath seeping against the back of your head.

“Uh…oh, I don’t know. We’re cuddling might be a start?”

“I’m okay with it if you are.”

That’s…new. Interesting.

You settle back against him, reaching over onto his night stand to grip your phone in hand. A picture of Peter with flowers in a halo around his head and a smile on his face greets you. Your profile is in the picture as well. Caught in a half laugh.

You notice the new text message from Aunt May and slide the phone open. Immediately earning the attention of Peter as he peers over your shoulder and notices you’ve sent a video of him to her. Plus the dozens of laughing face emojis she sent you in reply.

“What’s that?!”

“Oh, you mean your performance to all of New York in the key of screeching cat in a back alley?”

“Let me see that!”

He reaches around you to grab at the phone, earning a shriek from you as you flip over onto your stomach to hide the phone from him.

“I’m keeping this forever. You will not ruin this for me, Park—”

You break off into a fit of laughter as wiggling fingers catch your side and the phone shifts as you flip onto your back to shove at your fiendish, brown-haired attacker.

“You’re supposed to be resting!” You argue, shoving his thigh with your foot so he’s no longer hovering over you and instead slipping backward a bit further on the bed.

In his momentary lapse of attention, you grip the phone and slide it down your shirt. AKA, no man’s land for Peter Parker. He notices this, groaning as he falls foreword and rests his head against your thigh.

“How bad was I?”

“You thought you had eight shoelaces. You performed a beautiful rendition of Taylor Swift’s ‘Come Back…Be here.’ Was beautiful really. Really felt all the emotions with that one. Didn’t know Spider-Man was a Swiftie.”

He groans again. “You’re the one who played the ‘All too Well’ ten minute version so many times I ended up learning all the words. Just so happens the rest of the album is really good too. Sue me.”

“You also told me I was the prettiest girl in the world.” You bite your lip.

Might as well see where this goes.

His head lifts at this. “I mean, that one I could have told you while not under anesthesia.”

You feel heat rush to your cheeks at that. “Yeah? It’s just…you never have. Told me, I mean.”

His smile softens. Fingers curl around your wrist as he shifts his legs beneath him and settles down beside you. “You’re the prettiest girl in the world.” And then he’s the one burning up in the face. “Did I say anything else?”

“Nope. That was all.”

Lie.

“You sure?” He asks.

Your head dips once. “Yup.”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying to me, right?”

You curl your own feet beneath you. Sitting up in front of him. Your fingers toy with the leg of his shorts mindlessly.

“You know how I can drink and not really feel anything at all from it? Or how I heal ridiculously fast. Or just the fact my senses are enhanced overall?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

You glance up again, noting the way he’s looking at you.

All soft gazes and slow smiles. His morning sleepiness still clinging to those serene features. He’s so annoyingly handsome even like this. You fight the urge to reach your fingers forward and trace the line of his cheek. Just to see how it feels beneath your palm.

“When I asked you to lay down with me I felt ninety-nine percent myself.”

“Oh.”

“I…uh, love you, Daisy. Have for a while now honestly. You know it, don’t you?”

And maybe you have always known, in a way. Peter’s never said it so much as in words but in actions. His endless caring for you. The way he’s always there to lend an ear. The simple fact he’s the person you run to everything for. Your safe space. The brightest ball of light in human form to walk into your life.

“I love you, too, Pete.”

It’s not awkward. Lightning doesn’t crash down and strike you like you imagine it might. It’s almost normal. Nothing changes. Not really. There’s just a quiet understanding.

“So where do we go from here?” He asks.

“You go and gently brush your teeth. Because I want to kiss you, but you just got a few teeth removed from that stubborn head of yours. And then you get to ice your face all day and watch Netflix.”

“With you?”

“No, with your neighbor. Now go, go!”

Some time later, the two of you are sprawled out together watching endless episodes of your favorite TV show. You rest between Peter’s thighs, back against his chest as a laptop rests on your lap. Midway through an episode you turn your head and smile into Peter’s lips as they claim your own. Soft and inviting. Sweet and pliant beneath your own. He moves to press a kiss into your brow after, brushing a hair away from your cheek to tuck it behind your ear.

“Can I see the video you sent Aunt May now?”

“I will not accept kisses as bribery.”

“But can you be convinced?” He bats his eyelashes in jest.

“That is to be determined.”

He kisses you again. One, two, three times. A whisper of I love you against your skin.

“How about now?” He whispers.

You huff. “Fine, Peter Swift. Just know I warned you and I’m not deleting it ever.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Daisy.”

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ynscrazylife · 2 years

Text

Clinging Onto You

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He panted. Had she fallen? Was she—?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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writeroutoftime · 1 year

Text

you're stunning

pairing: tasm/tobey!peter parker x reader

summary: when peter takes your picture unexpectedly, he learns how you feel about yourself and tries to change your mind.

warnings: none

words: 633

a/n: honestly this could work for any peter, I just know the mcu didn't really focus on photography with tom's peter. but please enjoy this fluffy little story I thought up a while ago :) also requests are open if you'd like to send something in!

oOoOo

click-click

The shutter of the camera caught your attention, your body spinning around instantly. Reflexively, your body caved inwards on itself while your hands wrapped around your torso, seemingly trying to shield yourself from Peter’s - and his camera’s - view.

“Peter what are you doing?” you cried out.

“I just wanted a quick picture of you sitting there studying. The lighting was great and you look stunning.” he said with a soft grin as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Delete it." you pleaded, avoiding Peter's gaze by focusing your stare on his camera that now hung loosely in his hands.

Peter set the camera to the side and took a few steps closer to your, his brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? Why would I want to delete it?" he asked while fidgeting with his glasses.

Sighing, you closed your eyes as you tried not to let your emotions get the best of you. "Because I know I look awful. I wasn't ready and I didn't get to pose or prepare or anything." you whispered, voice shaky as the tears welled in your eyes.

In an instant, Peter knelt by your chair, hands resting gently on your knees. His thumbs ran back and forth against the fabric of your pants soothingly as he willed you to open your eyes. "Sweetheart, you don't need to pose or do anything. You always look amazing when I take your picture." Peter said, his own eyes misty.

"You don't have to lie, Pete." you rebutted. "I just don't really like myself in pictures, especially when I don't have any warning. I can't try and hide the things I don't like about myself." you admitted.

As the words tumbled out of your mouth, Peter swore his heart shattered. Is that really what you thought? That you had to hide parts of yourself from the camera? How could that be when Peter thought you looked perfect in every picture he ever took of you?

"Baby," Peter whispered. "is that really how you feel?"

You shrugged your shoulders in response, already feeling vulnerable. Besides, you weren't positive you could get another word out with falling apart.

"Hey, hey, it's okay you feel that way, but just let me show you how I see you." Peter proposed, running out of the room, calling out behind him that he would be right back. A few moments later, Peter came back into the room, with his laptop in hand.

There was silence in the room, only broken by Peter's typing as he hurried to pull up the files in which all his photography was saved. After a few moments, he gestured for you to join him on the bed, which you reluctantly did so.

"I know you think you need to be perfectly posed to feel worthy in front of the camera, but just look through these." he said before handing his laptop off to you.

Hesitantly, you looked at the screen and saw a picture of yourself. Your first instinct was to cringe at the sight, but with a second glance you noticed how excited you looked. You couldn't exactly place when or where the picture had been taken, but your smile looked genuine, and your eyes shined brightly.

Nervously, you clicked to the next one and saw the same thing. Picture after picture was a candid shot Peter had taken of you while the two of you had been out on dates, sitting around his apartment, or any other moment you shared. Thinking back to the pictures on your phone, you compared your faux poses and smiles to the free and happy expression you had here.

With a watery smile you turned towards Peter. "Is this really how you see me?"

"Of course it is, sweetheart." Peter said. "I know it won't take a day to suddenly see yourself in a new life, but I hope this can be a start because I love you."

"I love you too." you whispered, leaning forward to kiss your boyfriend, rolling your eyes when you heard the click of Peter's phone camera. He was a dork, but he was your dork.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker imagine #tobey!peter parker x reader #tobey!peter x reader #rita writes

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romeulusroy · 1 year

Text

Imagine redesigning Peter's suit:

"Upgrades?"

"Courtesy of y/n." Peter beamed, showing off his suit to the other Spidermans. You could feel the heat rush to your face, the embarrassed smile spread as a defense mechanism. You were more of a 'behind the scenes' type of person. You liked the recognition from him, but this was too much. Besides, compared to the other guys, it wasn't anything great. Peter loved it, though, bragged to anyone who would listen that you helped him fix the bugs in his suit, that you were saving Spiderman while he was saving everyone else. As far as he was concerned, he couldn't do any of this without you, really. Despite what you thought, he'd be lost. He was proud of your work, more proud than you thought you deserved. It was easy, minor fixes, . Peter did the real work. You only had to tweak it, nothing major. He didn't think so, though. He couldn't breathe in that thing until you got your hands on it. Or see. Those things are pretty important. . .

"It was nothing."

#tobey maguire #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel x reader

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spideydreams00 · 2 years

Text

I’ll fuck you till you understand

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

Switch! Peter x Switch! Reader

SMUT

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

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

Enjoy 🌙

“Fuck You Peter”

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

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

Cocky bitch you though.

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

“Just fuck me please!” You cried

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

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

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

“Im close!” You cried

Then he stopped.

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

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

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

“Fuck me!” You cried again

“You’ll have to beg”

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

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

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

“What if I don’t?”

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

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

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

“Y-Y/n/n?” he said in a small voice.

You ignored his “question” and asked…

“Is this okay?” You growled again.

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

“Good” you said simply

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

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

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

“Answer me!”

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

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

Again you ignored him

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

“Huh-? Uh- R-Red”

“Alright”

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

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

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

“I’ll make you feel sorry Peter”

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

“F-Fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So needy” you said

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

“Im sure you do”

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

“Y-Y/n” he croaked out

“Just one more”

“F-Fuck! I can’t- too sensit-ive”

“It’s okay baby we’ll go slow”

“O-kay”

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

“Faster please…” his voice small and weak

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

He nodded, completely under your control.

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

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

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

“N-not gonna last long”

“Hold it.”

“B-but-“

“Hold it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready baby?” You asked and he nodded

He nodded and you pushed his tip inside you

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

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

“Squeezing me just right!” He moaned

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

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

Peter moaned at your dirty words his toes curled again.

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

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

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

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

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

“D-Do it!”

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

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

“IM SO CLOSE Y/N/N-“

Then you slapped him again

And again

And Again

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

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

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Peter I’m gonna cum!”

“YES!”

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

You were so close, so so close

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you Peter”

“I love you more Y/N”

“Not possible”

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

“Just accept I love you more Pete”

“No! I love you more”

“Okay” you agreed

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

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

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

“I know but-“

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

“You kinky spider”

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

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

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

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incorrectanything · 2 years

Text

Peter: Date someone who will drag you outside at 3am to look at the stars.

Y/N: If anyone, and I mean anyone, wakes me up at 3am to go look at the damn sky they will be removed indefinitely from my life.

#marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect spider man #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #incorrect spider man quotes #tom holland #andrew garfield #tobey maguire #tom!peter parker #tom!peter x reader #tom!spiderman #andrew!peter imagine #andrew!peter parker #andrew!spiderman #tobey!peter parker #tobey!spiderman #tobey!peter x reader

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

Text

Old Faces & New Friends | Spider-Man Prequel P.6

Follows the events of Spider-Man 2

Catch up on parts 1-5 -> Series Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

Characters & pairings: Tobey!Peter Parker x female!reader/ Black Cat (eventual romance), tobey!peter x Mary Jane Watson (only for S1), Harry Osborn, Gwen Stacy, Eddie Brock, Norman Osborn, Otto Octavius, J. Jonah Jameson (pretty much every character from the Raimi trilogy)

Content Warnings: profanity, mentions of death.

Premise: After a birthday that resulted in him losing his job, missing class, and finding out his aunts home is being foreclosed, Peter Parker finds struggle in balancing everyday life while keeping the streets of New York safe as Spider-Man. There’s also slight strain between him and best friend, Harry, as well as tension with childhood love, Mary Jane. Things finally look promising when Harry introduces Peter to his idol, Dr. Otto Octavius. And to his surprise, Peter runs into a familiar face, one he hasn’t seen in two years.

—————————

Pizza time….more like ‘well fuck a duck’ time.

Peter Parker’s birthday was nothing short of a disaster.

First, he’s late to work which then results in being late on a delivery and therefore, fired. Then he’s late to class—running into his professor, Dr. Connors, who made sure to make his disapproval very aware to Peter. Later on at his other job for the Daily Bugle, he has to give up another photo of his costumed alias in order for payment, but then is hit with the fact its short to make up for the advancement he asked for week prior.

The night seemed to have the same energy as the day. There was a surprise birthday party waiting for him from May, Harry, and surprisingly Mary Jane. Unfortunately it wasn’t as bright as Peter hoped. Because reality smacked him in the face once more by discovering Aunt May’s hope was being foreclosed and Mary Jane was seeing someone.

And not to forget, the land lord got on his ass again about rent before snatching the only cash Peter had for the week out of his hands.

Yeah. It wasn’t the happiest of birthdays.

Today, however, felt promising to Peter. Harry hooked him up with a one-on-one with the brilliant fusion scientist, Dr. Otto Octavius. He followed Harry into the room where Otto was making the finishing touches with his team on his fusion-reactor. “Doctor,” one of the scientist calls out, “Mr. Osborn’s here.”

“Nobel Prize, Otto!” Harry skips down the steps as the man turns in his chair. “Nobel Prize. And we’ll all be rich.” He pulls off his shades and takes Otto’s extended hand.

“Not about the prizes, Harry,” He tells him.

“Ah but you need money. You need Oscorp.”

“Who do we have here?” Peter straightens when Otto refers to him. Harry gives a smile, “This is my good friend I called you about. The guy who got me through high school science.”

“Peter Parker, sir,” Peter steps forward with an extended hand. Otto takes it, nodding, “Parker.”

“I’m writing a paper on you for—.”

“Yes, Yes,” Otto interrupts, “I know what you’re doing here, but I really don’t have time to talk to students right now—.” The sound of Harry clearing his throat with a firm look has Otto backtracking. “But Oscorp pays the bills so.”

“That’s right,” Harry smiles, stepping back to turn to Peter. “So I have to take off—board meeting, but my job is done here. Got you two geniuses together. Good luck tomorrow, Otto.” He starts walking backward as he talks, finishing with, “Nobel Prize,” before spinning around to exit the room. “We’ll see you in Sweden!!”

A moment of silence passes between Otto and Peter as they watch Harry depart. “Interesting fellow, your friend.”

“I won’t take much of your time—,” Peter starts, but Otto interrupts again after his name finally clicks.

“Parker. Now I remembered you. You’re Connors student. He tells me you’re brilliant.” Peter smiles shyly. “He also tells me you’re lazy.”That made him blush.

“Trying to do better.”

“Being brilliant’s not enough young man,” Otto tells him with a serious tone. “You have to work hard. Intelligence is not a privilege, it’s a gift. And you use it for the good of mankind.” As Peter lets his words sink in, a new voice enters the room.

“Otto,” the soft tone belongs to a beautiful woman carrying flowers as she walks toward the two. “Lunch is ready.”

“This is my wife, Rosie,” Otto introduces the lady, who smiles at Peter.

“Hello!” Peter greets with a smile and shakes her hand. She returns the gesture, her own smile taking form on her lips, “hello.”

“This is Peter Parker—Connors student. The one who falls asleep in class.” Instead of looking as though she disapproves, Rosie gives one of understanding.

“I always fell asleep in physics class,” she says teasingly. “Nice to meet you Peter.”

“Good to meet you,” he replies as she moves around him to give Otto a kiss before excusing herself. Once she leaves, Peter’s attention draws to the large machine seated in the corner of the room. “Is that it?”

“Yes,” Otto affirms, “my design for initiating and sustaining fusion.” Together they move toward the machine. A few of Ottos team members continued to work, paying no mind to them.

“Well I understand you use harmonic syntonic frequencies”

“Sympathetic frequencies,” Otto corrects, standing behind Peter when they stop in front of the machine.

“Harmonic reinforcements?” Peter wonders. It makes Otto raise a brow, “go on.” Peter takes a moment to think before continuing, “an exponential increase in energy output.”

“A huge amount of energy,” the scientist nods. “Like a perpetual sun providing renewable power for the whole world.”

“To put it simple,” a light voice says, heels clicking with each word. Peter turns around at the sound, only to be met with a familiar face beaming at him. “It will be like having the power of the sun in the palm of your hand.” Y/N.

Y/n L/n to be exact. The girl who Peter met two years prior in the Columbia lab where he was bit by the spider that chanced his life. Harry’s friend, and the ‘daughter Norman Osborn wished he had.’ She looked the same from what Peter could gather—while he tried not to make it obvious he was checking her out. Same twinkling eyes and mischievous smile. The only thing he could tell changed in the two years was her hair and her facial features appeared more pronounced.

Peter also took notice that the clothes she wore beneath her lab coat screamed wealth. Completely different from their first encounter.

For starters, she was wearing a white silk blouse tucked into a knee length black leather pencil skirt. The belt around her waist had a golden medusa head right on the front. Versace. And Peter could’ve sworn he saw red peaking beneath her black stilettos. The statement of Christian Louboutin shoes. Her ears adorned diamond studs and there was a gold necklace around her neck.

Peter wasn’t one to judge. He was in no place to. But he couldn’t help but wonder how Y/n, a third year college student at Columbia and living in New York at 21 could afford such luxurious brands. Then again, she did have a full ride at the university and was more than likely being paid for the internship.

Or maybe she’s just really good at saving and investing her money. Everyone deserves to treat themselves.

“Peter this is my brilliant intern, Y/n L/n,” Otto raises a hand to introduce her, snapping him out of his thoughts. “She’s one of my top researchers in this project—and without her this couldn’t have been done. Y/n, this is—.”

“Peter Parker,” she finishes for him with a smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Peter feels heat in his face, beaming back at her. “It’s nice to see you too, Y/n.” Otto raises a brow, eyes flicking between the two.

“You two know each other?” He asks.

“Harry Osborn happens to be a mutual friend of ours,” she says without looking away from Peter. He tries not to blush even harder—not used to receiving such looks from a pretty girl. “Although, it’s been quite some time since we’ve been acquainted. Hasn’t it, Peter?”

“It has,” he gives a nervous chuckle. “two-two years, i think?” She gives a nod before finally turning her attention to Otto, “I’m not much of a social butterfly nowadays anyway—with all the work doc here has been giving me.”

Otto rolls his eyes, albeit playfully. “If I recall, L/H, you’re the one who wanted to graduate a semester early. You asked for it.”

Peter’s expression takes one of awe, “You’re graduating from Columbia this fall?” Doing the math mentally, Y/n was a freshmen two years ago when they met, making her a junior for the current spring semester. So she would be entering her senior year in the fall.

“I got the opportunity to apply for a dual Master’s and PhD program that starts next spring,” she looks down to the floor shyly, as though the accomplishment wasn’t that special. “Thanks to Dr. Octavius pulling some strings, I was able to have this internship extended. All I have to do next semester is my final thesis and I’m done.”

“That’s amazing!” Peter praises, causing her to blush. “Is the program at Columbia or…..”

“Cornell,” she replies, chuckling like she couldn’t believe it.

“Wow,” he breathes out, grinning at her with amazement. “That’s really amazing, Y/n. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” she smiles back. Meanwhile neither of the two notice Otto watching the interaction with a knowing look, trying to fight the smile forming on his lips. He knew that look when he was younger. It was the same he wore when he first met Rosie.

“Why don’t you two join Rosie and I for lunch,” he offers, motioning them to follow him to the dining room where Rosie has laid out a meal. “Y/n, you’ve been working hard all day and deserve a break. And Peter, I’d like to continue hearing more of your thoughts.”

The three join Rosie in the dining room where the table was laid out with plates and utensils. She welcomes them with a smile, “Finally, I thought I was going to have to enjoy all this myself.” They all take a seat with Rosie and Otto seated across from each other leaving Peter and Y/n to take the ones in between them.

After eating, Peter and Otto resume their conversation from earlier while Alan prepares tea for the four. “It’s amazing,” Peter tells the scientist as he brings over a tray full of teacups and the kettle. “Are you sure you can stabilize the fusion reaction?”

“Peter, what have been talking about for the last hour and a half?” Peter still looks concern. Otto continues, “This is my life’s work.i certainly know the consequences of the slightest miscalculation.” He turns to look at Y/n, “First I hear it from you, now from him.”

Peter glances at Y/n, noticing her look of concern but says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to question your work.”

“Rosie, our new friend thinks I’m gonna blow up the city,” he ends with a light chuckle. “You can sleep soundly tonight.” Rosie smiles gently while pouring the tea.

“Otto’s done his homework,” she assures. Meanwhile Y/n, while mixing her tea with some sugar and honey, gives a slight shake of the head. The action going unnoticed by everyone except Peter. “Come to the demonstration tomorrow and you’ll see.” She hands Peter a teacup before taking her seat. “You need to sleep soundly tonight, Otto.”

He just shakes his head, “Did Edison sleep before he turned on the light? Did Marconi sleep before he turned on the radio? Did Beethoven sleep before he wrote the fifth?”

“Did Burhnuey sleep before he found the curves of quickest descent?” Peter adds, making Otto grin widely.

“Ahh, Rosie, I love this boy!” Both he and Rosie take their own teacups.

“Peter tell us about yourself,” she says to him, taking the sugar Y/n passed to her. “Do you have a girlfriend?” This makes Y/n raise her brow at Peter, interested to hear what he has to say.

He blushes, “Uh—well,” he starts but pauses before eventually shrugging. “I don’t really know.”

“Well shouldn’t you know?” Otto questions, but then adds, “well who would know.”

“Ah leave him alone,” Rosie scolds. “Maybe it’s a secret love.”

“Love should never be a secret. If you keep something complicated as a love stored up inside, it will make you sick. I finally got lucky in love,” He turns to his wife with a loving gaze.

She returns it with, “we both did. But it’s hardly perfect. You have to work at it. I met him on the college steps and I knew it wasn’t going to be easy.” Otto sets his down after taking a sip, laughing gently as the memory flashes in his mind. “He was studying science and I was studying English literature.”

“That’s right, I was trying to explain the theory of relativity—.”

“A must when trying to chat up a gorgeous woman,” Y/n teases, bringing her cup up to her lips. Otto laughs again.

“And Rosie was trying to explain T.S Elliot.”

Y/n then turns to Rosie, winking, “A woman of good taste.” She chuckles, returning her gaze back to Otto.

He starts to quote, “Time present and time past are both perhaps present and time future,” Rosie finishes with him, both beaming. “I still don’t understand what he was talking about.”

“Oh come on,” Rosie leans back in her chair.

“I’m serious,” he defends. “T.S. Elliot is more complicated than advanced science. But if you want to get a woman to fall in love with you, feed her poetry.” Otto was an older man, but it didn’t make him stupid. He saw the way Peter was looking at Y/n before lunch and while he may not be referring to her in regards to his ‘complicated relationship,’ there was no denying the possible spark between the two students.

“Poetry,” Peter repeats, but more to himself. Across the table, Y/n rolls her eyes thinking, ‘oh boy, it’s a good thing you’re cute, Parker.’

“Never fails,” Otto casts one last glance to Rosie. It’s then he notices Y/n’s unimpressed expression. “What about you, L/n? Any lucky person catchin’ your eyes these days?” Like how he noticed Peter’s admiring gaze on her, Otto also observed Y/n giving the same to the boy.

“As my social life is non-existent with school and working for you, Doctor, I don’t think I’ll be near anything romance related for awhile.” Although her tone is neutral, Peter picks up on the strain in her demeanor. There’s almost a haunted edge to it. Peter wonders what could be the cause, but would never openly ask about something Y/n may not want to discuss.

“Oh come on,” Otto waves a hand. “You’re beautiful, intelligent, hardworking and the list goes on. You’re on the road to becoming one of the greatest minds science has ever seen. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“Oh I know that,” she tilts her head confidently. “Believe me, whoever does gain my attraction is lucky. When that time comes, I don’t know when it will, I’ll embrace it with open arms. But right now the goal is to have a successful demonstration tomorrow followed by a golden thesis this fall.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

After about twenty more minutes of tea and small talk, Otto excuses himself saying he needed to get back to work in order to prepare for the following days presentation. Y/n offers to walk Peter out, the two saying goodbye to Rosie before departing.

They go back to the main room where Peter first arrived with Harry. “It was good seeing you again today, Peter,” Y/n says with a smile. “I can’t believe it’s been two years already.”

“Same here,” he agrees, placing his hands in his jacket pockets. “How have you been?” The last time Peter ever saw Y/n was the World Unity Festival where Norman Osborn had attacked. Although, Y/n doesn’t know it considering he was masked as Spider-Man.

“I’m doing okay,” she replies, heels clicking against the wooden floors. Her own hands went into her lab coat pockets, “busy as you can imagine. A lot happened in two years.” She pauses, a frown taking over her face. “I’m sorry about your uncle, Peter. Harry had mentioned it to me a while ago.”

Peter averted his attention to the floor, “Thank you. It was definitely hard—especially for my Aunt May. But we’ve managed to get by. Taking it one day at a time.”

“I’m glad to hear,” she says softly, the two taking the steps of the foyer and heading to the front door. “That’s really all you can do. I’ve told Harry that several times regarding his dad, but he still tries to act like everything’s okay. How’s he been with you?”

Peter shakes his head with a shrug. Honestly him and Harry have been in a rather awkward phase as of late. There was the whole thing with MJ, and Harry’s hatred toward Spider-Man. “We’ve…..I don’t know really. Him and I haven’t hung out in awhile—I know he’s busy since taking over Oscorp, but…” he trails off, not knowing how to continue.

“I know about the thing with MJ, Peter,” Y/n says lowly. He glances at her to see she was pressing her lips in a thin line. Obviously not a fan of the topic at hand. “Harry took me to one of her shows, then proceeded to tell me all that went down. So you don’t have to hide it.”

“It’s complicated,” Peter glances back at the floor, the two stopping in front of the elevators. “Her and I aren’t together—w-we did hang out a few times once she broke things off with Harry. But we’re just friends.”

“But you want more,” she raises her brow. It wasn’t accusatory, more like she knew what he was indirectly saying.

“That obvious?” He chuckles nervously. She gives a shrug.

“I’ve been there so I can tell when it’s like that for people.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, shuffling his feet. Not wanting to discuss any further, Peter changes the topic back to Harry. “But anyway, Harry and I, it’s not just about what happened with MJ. He also isn’t happy that I’m still taking pictures of Spider-Man for the Bugle.”

“That’s right,” Y/n hums. “I forgot he mentioned you work for the Bugle. You take shots of Spider-Man? I’m surprised he lets you with how Jameson writes about him.”

Peter hopes his acting skills are working their magic. “Yeah, I’m not too sure if it’ll continue. He hasn’t let me in awhile. I gave my most recent to Jameson the other day, but it’s the last one for now.”

“Well good luck with that,” she chuckles, moving to press the down button on the elevator. “I hear that chick burglar has been giving him trouble. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t have time to model for you.” Peter laughs, although deep down he feels a sting at the indirect jab.

In the two years since Peter had that wild encounter with the female masked burglar, she’s managed to stay under his radar. Despite this, word on the street is she has taken on the identity of a cat burglar for New York’s organized crime. Quiet as a cat, even managing to get dubbed The Black Cat by the Bugle, she’s in an out of places without a trace. Peter doesn’t even get word until after the fact when she’s made her escape.

Is it annoying him greatly? Hell yes.

What good in being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man who stops bad guys if he can’t even catch this woman.

She’s just too good. Part of him can’t help but find her impressive.

“So you coming to the demonstration tomorrow?” Y/n’s question snaps him out of his thoughts. The elevator was approaching so he quickly nodded his head, “Y-yeah, yeah I’ll be here.”

She lips turn up in a grin, “wonderful. We’re all planning on going out after to celebrate if it goes well. You should totally come. I know Harry won’t miss it and I’m sure he’d want you there.”

Although it’s not really his scene, Peter can’t help but accept the invitation. “I’d love to join in.”

“Perfect,” Y/n beams, just in time for the elevator to ding and open. Peter steps in, the two saying a quick goodbye. But before the doors of the elevator fully close, Y/n sticks her arm out to stop it.

Peter raises a brow confused, “Everything okay?” He sees her look of concern.

“I just wanted to say,” she pauses, unsure to finish but the anxiety in her heightens. “What you asked about early—regarding if Otto will be able to stabilize the fusion-reaction. You’re concern is valid.” Peter tilts his head, shocked to hear she was saying such a thing when Otto said she was one of the leading researchers on the project.

“But I thought you—.”

“Which is why I’m telling you this. I have faith in the man, no doubt about that,” she assures, but her look doesn’t settle. “But I’ve seen the numbers. I’ve seen the tests. There’s a lot of room for error and I feel Otto doesn’t realize that. While I have hope tomorrow will go as planned—call it my intuition, but I feel like anything can happen.”

“Y/n, if you feel this way then maybe you should tell Otto to postpone the demonstration.”

She shakes her head, “Regardless, Otto’s going to follow through. I just wanted to let you know since you are planning on coming. Just—,” she bites her lip, pausing slightly. “Don’t stand too close.” With that, she removes her arm and lets the door close. Although he hadn’t hit the bottom floor, the elevator descends as Peter stands still.

The whole way down he thinks about the conversation. If Y/n was concerned about stabilizing the reaction, then the chances of something going wrong were high. He had no doubt she and the team are going to do the best they can to have a successful demonstration, but the worry lingered.

Peter could only hope their fears would not come true.

Until then, he had a play to attend.

……………..

Tag List: @todaywasafairytale07, @r0bynsblogins, @edgycatx, @gwephen, @fuck-goes-on, @m-1234, @secretsthathauntus, @grippleback-galaxy

#spiderman x reader #peter parker imagine #tobey!spiderman imagine #tobey!peter parker imagine #tobey!spiderman #spiderman imagine #spiderman fanfiction #black cat #black cat reader #peter parker x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #smnwh #spiderman no way home imagine

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nowayhomer · 2 years

Note

Please, kissing tobey!spider's neck and how he reacts about it 🥰🥰🥰🥰

ahhh !! this is so cute and my first thought was like, he generally keeps himself in a hard shell but the moment just reveals something cute ?? can't explain but i definitely tried to put it in writing what the moment was like.

caught by surprise

Ⅰ. PAIRING tobey!peter x reader

Ⅱ. GENRE fluff, just super cute, peter smiling for once in spider-man history

Ⅲ. NOTES there's no specified pronouns or gender identification so y'all could literally just imagine yourself in any way you want

Ⅳ. WORD COUNT 354

peter was sewing the sleeves of his suit while listening to a physics podcast. you knocked on the door of his apartment, “peter ? can you open the door ? it’s stuck again.” peter got up and tugged on the handle, pulling it off completely. he gave a sheepish grin when he saw you through the hole where the doorknob had once been, staring at him with disbelief. he let you into his very humble abode and webbed the door so no one could peek through it. “what have you been up to ?” “i’ve just been sewing and studying, you know, another regular night for me.” peter sat in his cloven chair that he tried holding together with duct tape. you stood behind him, resting your hands on his shoulders while you watched him work. it was times like these when you admired peter the most and found a practice of studying his habits. it was not lost to you how he licked the corners of his lips in concentration, the way he twirled the needle between his fingers when he paused to listen to a bit of his podcast that caught his attention. your own attention had been directed to his neck. you had kissed every part of his face, never trailing further down until now. peter felt your plush lips against his neck and pulled away quickly, his hairline to his collarbone turning red. “were you not okay with that ? i’m so sorry,” you went to hold his hand. “no, it was nice… you just caught me by surprise and i’m…” he couldn’t pull himself to finish. “you’re what ?” “well, sometimes my spider senses kick in when i'm surprised, so i got surprised when you kissed me and my senses made me ticklish.” you doubled over, clutching your stomach when it hurt from laughing. “aw, the oh, so tough peter parker gets ticklish. you are so adorable.” you pinched his cheeks. peter wrapped his arms around you, planting a kiss on the bridge of your nose before saying, “please keep giving them.”

you had made it a tradition since then to greet him with kisses on his neck, loving his small laughs and cherishing your relationship.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fluff #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #tobey!peter x reader #tobey!spiderman #tobey!peter parker x reader #tobey maguire x reader #marvel fic #aurigaupdates

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mischievous-thunder · 2 years

Text

Venom and the men in his life across the multiverse

A random person: How do you like your men?

Venom: Screaming at the top of their lungs.

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spider-stark · 1 month

Text

INFINITELY YOU

part one // back at the beginning

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

WORD COUNT - 5.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was dead—Aunt May was dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it still made you angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Understand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You weren’t used to this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was different, somehow.

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

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

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

But Peter wasn’t like other people.

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

His eyes couldn't lie, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wouldn’t bring May back to life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knew better than to think he meant it.

But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

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

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

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

You were good at expressing anger, though.

You were very good at expressing anger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ned shrugged. “He didn’t wanna come.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will,” you promised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You reasoned that anyone would feel that way, though.

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

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

Parker scrunched his nose, his head tilting slightly.

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

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

Parker gave a tightlipped smile. “Definitely weird.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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