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thepowerofhyperfixation · 2 years

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I Gave You All (Pt. 2)

I Gave You All (Pt. 2)

Characters: Peter Parker x You

Summary: You weren’t supposed to remember him. And you didn’t. For three years. But you always remembered… something. Little things, every now and again. Now, you have a new neighbor, that honestly..? Doesn’t seem all that new to you. (Can be read as GN reader)

(Post NWH, could technically be read for any Peters if your headcanon is that 2 & 3 were wiped from their universes memory too, but it is being written for adult Tom Holland!Peter Parker)

Word Count: 2,667

Warnings: (18+) Mentions and use of alcohol and ouid. Mild sexuality and language. Angsty. Slow burn emotionally/plot-wise.

Author Note: Hi again! Sorry for the wait! I’m a full-time student with summer classes right now, as well as two new jobs, so this won’t be updated too regularly, but I’m aiming for every two weeks-ish. Also, this is completely self-indulgent. I’m writing to cope with all of my adult problems and it’s a comfort thing, so I hope y’all enjoy, but don’t sweat it if not! 😂 Thanks for reading. -Meg

(Also, a lot of my formatting didn't transfer over, I'm so sorry!)

“You know, it’s crazy how quickly someone’s life can change.” You look at the brown-eyed boy sitting on the fire escape next to you, then turn back to the city skyline.

“How easy it is to stop caring about things that used to mean everything to you. How much of a difference a year, or two, or three can make in your life and how you never thought you could feel more numb than you did then, but suddenly you’re here, even more numb and cold than you were, and you just… can’t do anything about it, because what’s the point of trying anymore?” You steal the joint from the stranger’s nimble fingers and take a drag, letting the burn of the smoke fill your lungs before continuing.

“So, you just go with the flow and ignore the pain until it doesn’t hurt anymore, and you just… don’t care. You don’t even know where the pain is coming from. Because you don’t remember the one thing that ever made you feel human, and you literally can’t think of a meaningful way to do anything about it, so you ignore the present, avoid the future, try… so. hard… to remember the past, and just end up in a never-ending void of “whatever”s and “so what”s. You get high, or-or drunk on a Tuesday night because you literally have nothing better to do or offer society because in all reality… you left. Because what the hell else are you going to do?” You shake your head and take another pull from the joint, thoughts becoming cloudier by the minute.

“I don’t remember your face. But I remember what you meant to me. And I hate that I can’t even hear your voice in a dream.” You clear your throat and snuff out the end of the blunt on the cold metal.

“I don’t know… I think you do know who I am. You’re just now starting to realize it.” Your entire body tenses as you slowly look to your left, Peter Parker’s chocolate brown eyes are looking down at you.

Your eyes fly open to focus on your popcorn ceiling as your alarm blares in your ear. Light from the sunrise peeks through your curtains, and you groan, throwing your pillow over your head, unwilling to get up. This is, in part, to your raging hangover, but for the first time, you remember the entirety of the dream you’ve been having on repeat for the last three years. As you mull over everything your REM cycle produced, you’re sure that the image of your neighbor’s face was there due to his impromptu visit last night. He couldn’t be the shadow from your memories. It didn’t make sense.

Yes, it did.

No. You’ve had the same dream every night since you were 18. The only reason it changed last night was that you met him. That was it. You had never met Peter Parker in your life before 7:36 pm the night before.

Of course.

Because the other alternative is impossible, you would remember. You would remember his voice, the lazy swing of his arms, the soft sound of his laugh, and the awkward gap in his left eyebrow… You stop yourself. Sure, Peter Parker was cute, but he wasn’t worth making you late to your shift.

Debatable.

You hit your alarm clock with a groan and pad to your bathroom, turning on the shower. Your phone lights up with a notification that you elect to ignore for the time being, and a few taps later, your morning playlist is filling the tiled interior of the bathroom. You start to relax as the warm water runs down your back, letting the final reminders of last night wash down the drain. Your headache dulls slightly when you massage the shampoo into your hair, humming to the music. After a while, you step out and begin the rest of your pre-work routine, hair, teeth, face, and clothes, always in that order. When you’re done, you check the time only to find you are, once again, running late.

Grabbing your keys in a blind and frenzied rush out the door, you manage to plow straight into none other than Peter Parker in all of his weekend glory, mop and bucket in hand.

“Woah, sorry! Bad time?” He’s got an amused grin on his face. It almost keeps you distracted from noticing the bruise flowering underneath his left eye. You can make yourself reply after only a split second of hesitation.

“Oh, I’m actually kind of late for work? But-” You reopen the front door and take the extended items from his hands, tossing them in haphazardly. “-Thanks for returning them so quickly.” You give him a sweet smile, trying to ignore your already increasing heart rate.

“Yeah, absolutely! Didn’t want to hold them hostage for too long.” He returns your smile, and you do everything in your power to keep your cheeks from heating up. “I’ll let you go, though. Don’t want to be responsible for you being late to work. Have a good day, Y/N.” He starts back to his apartment, and suddenly you feel as if you’re watching the scene from above when you hear your voice call out.

“Hey, do you wanna get… dinner tonight? Maybe? My treat. Think of it as a welcome present.” Peter Parker turns on his heel to face you, a smile already finding its way onto his damn near perfect face.

“I’d really like that. What time?” You’re shocked he’s said yes, honestly.

“Let’s say 7? I’ll order in.” The tight coil in your chest feels like it’s about to burst in excitement you didn’t know you were carrying, but you hold it together.

“Great! It’s a date.” You step forward some, head tilted down slightly to hide your excitement, pulling a pen from your work supplies and grabbing his hand. You scribble down your phone number and a smiley face before putting it away.

“Text me your Thai order and I’ll grab it on my way home. See you at 7, Parker.” You exchange one last grin and step out of the building, practically floating on air the entire way to work.

🕸🕷🕸

It’s on your lunch break hours later before you’re able to check your phone again. You see a series of new messages on your lock screen and open them, smiling slightly.

Unknown number

Hey! :P

It’s Peter btw

Peter Parker. Your new neighbor.

Your smile grows exponentially when you see the messages have been sent over a period of several hours, the first mere minutes after you had left the building with Peter staring at your phone number inked onto his skin. You reply quickly.

Peter Parker

Hey, Peter Parker :)

Think about what you want for dinner yet?

You wait for a reply, but your thirty-minute break is disappearing quickly. You slide your phone back into your bag and eat your sandwich, your coworker Halie coming to join you.

“What’s got you blushing?” She smirks and opens her own lunch.

“I’m not blushing!” You reply. “It’s hot outside, it’s probably just a sunburn or something!” And she laughs.

“Sure, sunburns always get darker when you mention them, right?” She leans forward. “Did you meet someone the other night? At the bar? I knew you were in the bathroom forever!” You scoff.

“Absolutely not! I was in the bathroom forever because the last Vegas Bomb we did had me fighting for my life…” You shake your head, “And even if I did meet someone, I wouldn’t tell you yet! We may be close, but you know me. I keep the private stuff private.” You shrug and toy with your sandwich, blush only turning a deeper shade of pink as you avoid her gaze. You hear your phone beep in your bag and practically dive for it, Halie doing the very same.

“Come on!! Let me see, please! I won’t bully you or anything!” She manages to wrestle the phone out of your hand and looks at the message, furrowing her brow. “Are you side hustling as a food delivery person?” She holds up the screen, showing Peter’s food order for later that night, and you grin.

“Absolutely, I am. Gotta make a couple of deliveries tonight, actually.” You snatch your phone back and reply with a fast thumbs up and smiley face before hiding it back in your bag. “Now, if you’ll excuse me- my break is over. I’ll see you when you come back inside.” You gather your things and scarf down the rest of your sandwich before heading back inside the building to finish the last few hours of your work day.

🕸🕷🕸

Your feet are dragging as you carry the plastic bags filled with Thai food up the stairs, slightly exhausted from the rush you experienced the last two hours of your shift. You finally reach your front door and let yourself in, placing the food in the microwave to keep it warm while you take yourself into your room to grab clothes and climb in for a quick shower. As you’re wrapping your wet hair in a towel, there’s a soft knock on your front door and you quickly go to answer it. Your heart almost stops when you see your new neighbor standing in the doorway, dressed casually, but holding a slightly wilted bouquet of peonies. The shock on your face must be evident because Peter turns a bright shade of pink.

“Hi! I didn’t really know if flowers were an appropriate ‘thank you’ for letting me borrow a mop and inviting me to dinner, but… Well, I saw you had some cacti and… leafy… things. Thought maybe I could help add to your collection?” He’s rambling in a way that is all too familiar to you, as if you’d already had to stop him from doing the same thing many times before. A smile immediately makes its way onto your face. Peonies have always been your favorite.

“They’re beautiful, Peter. Thank you.” You step to the side, and Peter passes the bouquet over as he walks through your door.

🕸🕷🕸

Hours later there are empty cartons of Thai food spread across your coffee table, and you and Peter are sitting criss-crossed on the couch, facing one another.

“...so, I went to school out of state most of my life, actually. Until freshman year of high school, then my dad moved us here to the city.” You shrug and Peter points to your sweatshirt with a grin.

“Midtown Science? I had some old friends there.” Peter has been listening to your life story with no feigned interest, nodding at all the parts he deemed appropriate, laughing at your mostly-well-timed jokes.

“Yes!” You laugh some, “Who were your friends, maybe I know them?” Peter seems to hesitate slightly, but it doesn’t last too long.

“Ah… Flash Thompson, for one.” And you look surprised. You wouldn’t peg Peter as someone Flash Thompson would get along with, but then again, Flash didn’t really get along with anyone, so you just grin and go along.

“Oh, really?! Huh, interesting. I didn’t think Flash had any real friends, much less a best friend.” Peter laughs, grabbing his beer from the coffee table and taking a sip before countering.

“You know, you wouldn’t be the first to say that. He’s a dick.” He grins over the bottle as you take your turn to laugh.

“Don’t I know it. He tortured my friends and I in school. Or, at least tried to torture us. His mean nicknames were sooo far from clever. Like, my best friend MJ? She became ‘BJ.’ And our friend Ned became ‘Nedipot’??” You shake your head and take a sip of your own beer as Peter mulls this over.

“Those are… actually horrible. Thompson never was much of a wordsmith.” You both go quiet, small grins resting easily on your faces. You stay like this, in comfortable silence for what seems like seconds and hours simultaneously. You eventually turn to the coffee-haired boy, a mischievous glint in your eye.

“I’m gonna go take a smoke. Want to join?” Peter quirks an eyebrow.

“A smoke?” You pull yourself off of the couch with your beer and pad into the kitchen, grabbing a bag of cheetos from your cabinet as you speak.

“Not a cigarette if that’s your question.” You chuckle as you grab a blanket from behind him. “You’re welcome to join if you want, but we do not peer pressure in this house.”

Twenty minutes later the two of you are on your fire escape, wrapped in blankets and passing the cheetos back and forth with orange fingers, the blue chimney tucked safely back in your room.

“So, like, I’m running through campus, fifteen minutes late for class already. My shirt is absolutely covered in queso from my shift, and I get to Connor’s class, right? I sit in the back, try not to interrupt, and the fucker next to me had the audacity to lean over and ask-” You lower your voice to imitate the student in question. “‘-Bruh, did seriously you puke on yourself and come to class?’” You throw your hands up, obviously still upset by the interaction, and Peter is cackling with laughter next to you.

“Like, what?! I’m wearing a shirt that says Queso Hut fuckass!” Peter waves his hands, trying to catch his breath as you huff, snatching the bag of cheetos from him.

“What did you say?!” He asks, still smiling as he leans his forearms of the cool metal in front of him. You just shrug.

“Nothing! I just flipped him off, came home and cried. It was one of those days, you know?” You smile some and grab a chip, turning your head to face him. Your cheeks immediately start to burn when you see him smiling at you, head laying on his folded arms. You clear your throat and look away, back towards the skyline of the city, but in your periphery, you see Peter pull out his phone suddenly. It’s buzzing nonstop, and his face falls.

“I am… so sorry, but there’s a story my boss wants me to take pictures for, and-” You wave him off as he starts to stand.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I get it, work’s important. But are you sure you’re good? For work, I mean?” He nods as the two of you climb back through your bedroom window.

“I’m not driving, and I just have to point and shoot a few times. I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sweet smile as the two of you reach the door. “This was… a lot of fun. I really hope we can do it again sometime.” You nod, turning only slightly pink this time.

“Of course. It really was fun. Thanks for coming over.” The two of you stand awkwardly in the doorway for a moment, before you both surge forward for a chaste kiss on the cheek at the same time. It happens too quickly for either of you to correct the mistake in time, and your lips collide roughly. Suddenly, your brain feels like it’s exploding with every emotion at once, images of a different life flashing behind your eyelids. His presence is gone almost as soon as it appeared. You open your eyes, and Peter looks terrified.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-” Maybe it was the weed. Or the beer. Maybe both. But something in you arises that causes you to lean forward again and cut off his apology. He immediately relaxes, placing his hands on your hips. You’re the first to pull away this time.

“You should get to work, Tiger. I’ll see you around.” You grin and practically have to shove his stunned form out of the front door. Once it’s closed, your back slides down the poorly painted wood and you hold your flaming cheeks with a breathy laugh.

Why did that feel so familiar?

Taglist: @preciousbabypeter @hazzzzziel

#peter parker series #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker #marvel #marvel imagine #tom!peter x reader #tom!spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman

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thepowerofhyperfixation · 2 years

Text

I Gave You All (Pt. 1)

Characters: Peter Parker x You

(Post NWH, could technically be read for any Peters if your head-canon is that 2 & 3 were wiped from their universes memory too, but it is being written for adult Tom Holland Peter Parker)

Word Count: 956

Warnings: Like, one cuss word and mentions of alcohol/drunkenness

Author Note: Hi everyone! I’m a long-time reader, but haven’t ever posted my own content. This hasn’t been read by anyone other than myself, so the only editing that’s been done has been by Grammarly. Sorry for any mistakes, and sorry if it’s trash. Just thought it would be fun to give writing another shot after 10 years out of the fandom writing sphere. Hope you enjoy it, understand if you don’t! :) -Meg

You think you met him freshman year. In all honesty, you don’t think the two of you paid much attention to one another. As far as you knew? No one paid much attention to him… He disappeared halfway through the school year.

No, he didn’t.

Yes. He disappeared. You don’t even remember his name. Just… a blur. A dark silhouette in a flurry of otherwise clear memories. Some days, the silhouette became more focused, and along with it came a tightening in your chest. A brick in your stomach, a heat spreading across your cheeks. As soon as it came, it disappeared again. Like him. The nameless, faceless figure in the back of your head that no one else seemed to think ever even existed.

He existed.

It had been years since you had seen him in freshman biology. You were well out of high school now, living your life as a young adult. You had no reason to even think of him, yet here you were. Alone on your couch, vision swirling, the 24-hour news cycle spinning violently across your television. Spider-Man and Daredevil saved a bus full of middle schoolers on the George Washington Bridge this afternoon, from what you’re hoping isn’t actually an 8-foot-tall lizard.

Spider-Man.

The brick in your stomach grows as you stare at the rippling image of the masked vigilante. You blame it on the empty bottle of New Amsterdam sitting on the table in front of you, but your mind continues to wander to the student that you remember forgetting. Tonight, he isn’t just a silhouette. You see curly brown hair. This time though, a new image flashes across your eyelids. Chocolate brown eyes, smile lines obvious on an otherwise smooth face. You’ve never remembered that before. Three knocks. One, two, three, in quick succession.

This breaks you from your reverie. You slowly stand, making sure your drunken state won’t be too obvious to whoever decided to knock on your door at the ungodly hour of…

7:36pm

Shit.

You shuffle to the door and struggle with the locks before pulling it open, covertly using it as a crutch to keep yourself upright. You look up at the mystery knocker, and all at once, every ounce of oxygen in your body abandons you. Curly brown hair. Chocolate brown eyes. Smile lines on an otherwise smooth face…. It’s just a coincidence. Right? “Hey, so sorry to bother you, but I’m moving in next door and managed to-” The stranger stops for only a moment when he lays eyes on you, but recovers quickly. Too quickly for you to notice his own shock. “-to dump a gallon of water on my kitchen floor before buying a mop… Any chance I could borrow yours?” You stare at the man, who is donned in an oversized “I Survived My Trip to NYC” Tee and sweatpants. You don’t realize that you’re silent for longer than any normal neighbor would be before shaking out of your own state. “Oh- uh- right. Yeah, ‘fcourse. Come on in…” You step out of his way and immediately turn toward your own kitchen, trying with every ounce of your being to not drunkenly stumble and embarrass yourself in front of your handsome (familiar?) new neighbor.

“I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.” He states as you awkwardly search the crack between your fridge and wall for your mop. Your hand finds the cool metal and pulls it from the abyss, and you glance over your shoulder at him.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you, Peter Parker.” You then bury yourself under the sink, wrestling a bucket and a bottle of cleaner from under the poorly placed pipes.

“So... how’d you manage to dump a gallon of water on your floor?” Your voice is muffled by the cabinetry.

“Oh, you know… Had a bit of an incident with a fallen bar of soap. Classic cartoon slip and fall. Only I was lucky, and was carrying groceries to the fridge when it happened.” Your snort rings out through the small kitchen and you turn bright pink as you stand.

“Sounds like an unfortunate series of events.”

“I prefer to call it a comedy of errors.”

“Is it a comedy, or a tragedy? That is, considering no one else was there to see it.” You give him a small, sly smile as you pass him the mop and bucket. He gives you a cheeky grin in return, and you’re nearly knocked off your feet.

Identical.

You’ve seen that grin before. More times than you can count. But you don’t know where. Or when. Or why… It seems as though the smile belonged to a lover from a different lifetime. A smile that transcended universes and demons and death, only to find your eyes once more. You feel the color drain from your face, but your brain can’t force your eyes to look away. Peter notices. The grin falters, and so does your absent stare.

“I should, uh… I should get that water taken care of. Make sure it doesn’t cause any damage. I don’t want to lose my deposit on day one.” He gives a weak chuckle, but you can feel how hollow it is. You nod in agreement, and walk him to the front door, growing dizzy from the mere two-minute interaction. “I’ll get your mop back to you soon.” You nod, absolutely incapable of caring less about a mop.

“No rush. Hope to see you around, Peter Parker.” Your voice is hoarse and more confused than it ever should have been. “You too, Y/N Y/L/N.” And Peter Parker has disappeared into the next apartment before you can even process that you never told him your last name.

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #tom holland #andrew garfield #tobey maguire #tom!spiderman #tom!peter parker #tom!peter x reader #marvel #peter parker series #wip #fanfic

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