#@peter parker x oc

[bethsvrse]

when I find a brilliant, jaw dropping, amazing x reader fic but suddenly I’ve been given a first name, last name, hair colour and eye colour

[atlantian-kong]

Morrigan x Spider-Man created by the amazing @boyofzoot

Commission info I Patreon

[daydreamvalley]

My aesthetic? Miguel O’Hara.

Continuation of my irl Miguel reimagining

[blkgirlsreadfanfic2]

for fanfic writers and readers

as a black girl who loves a lot of different movies and shows, fanfic allows me to read stories that put me in the middle of my favorite things. however, fanfic often (unintentionally) excludes girls who look like me.

i am so sick and tired of reading a fanfiction and having to rewrite it in my brain because a character description immediately implies that the reader is white. if you don't know what i mean, here are some examples.

"your skin turned pink" or "you blushed": black girls and women with darker skin tones CANNOT blush. our skin does not just turn pink

"pulled your hair into a messy bun": my 4a hair cannot be pulled into a messy bun at random. i may be able to do a ponytail if i have braids in, and i might be able to tie it up if I have an old twist-out, but a "messy bun" is often not possible.

"he ran his hands through your hair": yeah...unless my hair is in a silk press (and an OLD silk press), that's not happening

there are a plethora of other examples that would make this post insanely long, so let me get to the point. there are very easy ways to make fanfic a bit more inclusive; all you have to do is tweak a few character descriptions. OR, put in your pairing or warnings that the reader is implied to be white.

and finally: please, please stop tagging your DARK fanfictions "xblack!reader." i am tired of searching for fluff under the black reader tag and finding non-con, dark themes, etc., ESPECIALLY when the fic ends up being for a white reader💀.

the goal of my page is to create a safe space for black girls who love reading fanfiction. i am only one person, so if you'd like to help, here are some ways to do that!

send me fics (preferably marvel and stranger things to start) that are with a black reader

comment some other things in fanfics that imply that the reader is white or that make the fic a little less accessible

REBLOG FICS BY BLACK WRITERS

[deadsetobsessions]

Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

F

E

L

L.

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now�� People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

[raineydays411]

My Father's Daughter

Part 9

Summary: You've been at the Wayne Manor for over a month.

In some weird way you understand Christine.

You understand why she tries so hard to spend time with you while you're in her home. Why she begs for you to get off of your phone and cook with her. You get why she tries to make the other kids be nice to you. Scolds them harshly when they make snide comments underneath their breath about you.

Truly, you do.

You just...genuinely don't give a shit.

You don't care that she feels bad that she abandoned you for a completely other family and you don't care that she feels like she's losing time to create a bond with you.

You did not care.

Really, you didn't.

"Um,kid... you know I love you but I'm really not that kind of doctor" Bruce Banner said awkwardly over facetime.

You sigh. "Yeah I know B. You were just the first one to pick up the phone."

"Ouch." Banner laughed, " you know, you really are your fathers child."

You smile, one of the rare times you actually did nowadays. " How is the old man?"

You haven't been able to call him since he was paranoid whoever wants you would track your phone calls and find out where you are.

"Your father is even more annoying now without you than he ever has been in my entirety of knowing him" Banner deadpans, " He misses you a lot kiddo, we all do."

You smile sadly, missing your family.

It was hard, seeing these people you barely knew, with a mother you barely knew, stuck in a house you barely knew.

And the fact that they feel like a family. They argue and play jokes on each other. They eat with each other every afternoon ( Bat activities at night), Bruce kisses Christine goodbye when he goes to work. It was so domestic in its weird little ways.

But you didn't fit in.

They laughing and the jokes stopped whenever you walked into the room. The conversations were stale.

It was depressing.

It's not like they ignored you, oh no. That would've been preferable.

No half of them trip over their feet to try and include you in whatever they're doing.

Dick will turn blue chatting your ear off about whatever he thinks will get you to open up to him and Christine?

She will bend over backwards, frontwards, and sideways just to get you to acknowledge she gave birth to you. Every night she comes into your room and tries to talk to you about your life. And every question is met with a dull answer

"So any boys that catch your interest here?" " I don't know, I can't leave the premises"

"Were you in any sports? You look like you'd be a cheerleader like your momma!" " I was in mathletes and debate like Pepper"

"You really are beautiful my baby" "Thanks, everyone says I look like my dad"

It really was a struggle to get you to open up. Almost everyone at the manor had a hard time even starting a conversation with you.

Everyone except of course Alfred and surprisingly Jason Todd.

Alfred won you over as soon as you moved in. He vouched for you when you needed time alone and brings you snacks>

Jason is a whole different story.

See, the reason why it's so hard for everyone to talk to you is because they all refuse to acknowledge the elephant in the room. They're treating you like you were some other orphan Annie they decided to adopt and you just have no family waiting and missing you.

Jason doesn't.

In fact, it was him who caught you trying to sneak out of the mansion the first week you were there. Instead of scolding you or telling on you, he took you out.

"A cap and sunglasses? Kid, that's not a disguise."

"What do you mean?"

He took you to a diner he frequents, a tour of the rooftops to avoid people, and to the safe house he took over from Bruce.

"Tell me about your life." He demands, not asks.

You smile and tell him about it. Your life growing up with the Avengers, school and what major you're going for, that brief fling you had with Pietro before you had to move to Gotham.

It was nice. To be with someone that didn't want to change you. He didn't try to force you into forgiveness and let you vent. He even gave some pretty sound advice.

"You know, at some point you are going to forgive her." He says ignoring your indignant stare, " You don't gotta be bestfriends with her or anything, but that anger is going to either slowly consume you or slowly go way. And believe me, you want it to slowly go way."

And he was right in some ways. The longer you're there, the less anger there is and the more hurt replaces it. It festers inside you like some disease. The symptoms slowly leaking out every time one of them calls her mom.

Every night she comes into your room and tries to pry into your life as if she didn't voluntarily leave it, you feel it.

Everytime you see her brush Cassandra's hair out of her eyes, or kiss damian on the forehead. It's the gentle way she smiles whenever she sees Tim hyperfocused on mission reports, and the way she gets so excited whenever Dick or Jason walk through the front door. Hugging them and chiding them for not visiting more.

It hurts you that they truly are a family.

And after a while, it gets hard for you to try and say that you truly didn't give a shit.

Because honestly, you did

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @stupendousnightmaretrash @opheliaas-stuff

[lilmaymayy]

im sorry but theres nothin i hate more than xocs in an xreader hashtag😔😔

ITS FINE IF THERES OCS IN THE FIC BUT THEY BETTER NOT END UP W MY MAN

[camilleverreault]

Miguel O’Hara - Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse 2023

[bonesandchalamet]

perfect - t.holland

masterlist

requested: y- “Could you do reader and Tom or Harry with newborn !!”

pairings: dad!tom holland x mom!reader

warnings: fluff + child has been given a name

a/n: I hope I did this justice 🫡 I’m not very good with writing newborns!

you can’t figure out what you’re more obsessed with: her rolls, feet, or the fact that she looks exactly like Tom.

you haven’t been able to move from the crib. you should be asleep, but your eyes are glued to the crib where your newborn daughter, Emma, lays asleep.

you know Tom will come in any second. he’ll be concerned why you’re not in bed or pumping. he’ll ask if something’s wrong with Emma or with you. he’ll ask a series of questions you’ve heard on record since you came home from the hospital, but you don’t mind them. he’s concerned for his two loved ones.

“everything alright?” there it is. you sigh, taking a look at him for a brief second before looking back at her. she hasn’t moved, yet every rise and fall of her chest makes your heart swell.

“I just can’t decide which part I love more of her.” you carefully tap your finger against the wooden edge of the crib.

Tom exhales quite happily, it’s nothing serious to be worried about. he carefully steps into the room, his hand rests against your lower back, “why don’t you go sleep? we can worry about what we love most once we’ve rested.”

you shake your head. there’s tears welling your eyes, you know this is just hormones— or maybe you’re just so in love you can’t move from her crib.

“I just want to stay here forever.”

“we’ll have plenty of time to stay in here forever. we need some sleep.” he assures you, his palm running over your dirty hair. you can’t remember the last time you’d showered coming to think of it.

“you’re right, I’m being ridiculous.” you nod along with him finally moving from the crib. the emotions had dried allowing the exhaustion to finally settle in your body. Tom promises to take the first shift after napping and you don’t argue, just settle into the mattress.

“and you’re not ridiculous. however, I think her rolls are quite adorable.”

—

three hours.

you’d been asleep for three hours and didn’t even hear a single noise from emma or Tom. you assumed he would need your help at some point, but having not heard anything from either of them. you could trust he had it all under control.

you slowly rise out of bed and exit the bedroom, you see Tom in your living room rocking chair. he’s got a bottle in one hand, and her cradled in his other arm. she looks quite cozy and content with him.

“you’re awake.” he looks up from her with a frown. his plans were to let you sleep as long as you needed, but he knew you couldn’t leave her alone for too long without checking on her. the silence was always scary to hear.

“I know.”

“she’s been sleeping this whole time. you can go back to bed if you’d like?” he recommends rather than offering. you know the suggestion is what you should take, but you can’t get yourself to move from where you’re standing. your eyes glued to her once again.

“it’s everything. that’s what I love about her.” you say finally taking your eyes off of your sleeping newborn to look Tom in the eyes.

he nods in agreement looking back down at her in his arms, “she’s perfect.”

[spider-man-199999]

Pacifier pt2

pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader;

word count: 7,5 k

part1! part3!

warnings: 18+; smut; drug abuse; mentions of sex; p in v; unprotected sex; Peter is younger than the reader, but still 18. Reader is around 20. Peter is trying to pin reader even though he is younger; Switch Peter;

summary: In this one you’re hired as Morgan’s babysitter (and low-key underpaid Stark!assistant). Looking after a little girl isn’t too hard, but looking after her “big bother” as well, definitely is.

an: I'm scared of writing smut but i did it; also I wanted sitcom vibes! It's a long one.

You didn’t end up actually doing the things you did in your dreams that night. You were too drunk to explain exactly what you wanted, and he felt like he was taking advantage of you. So, after a long and heated make out session, plus a tantrum from you, he carried you to your bedroom and put you to bed before anything actually happened between the two of you. 

You woke up from a wet dream about Peter again. It seemed like they were getting more and more frequent.  The entire thing began with you two kissing on the couch, you told him you wanted to do it, he carried to your bedroom and you did it. You looked around your bedroom, there was no Peter around. You had your clothes on. Great, it was just a dream. You stared at the ceiling. Your head felt like it was about to burst open from the hangover. 

“That felt so real.” you whispered to yourself, closing your eyes and ran a finger over your lips, recalling the kiss from the beginning of the dream. 

It was time to get up. All this party business had to end at some point and that point was in 5 days from now. Getting back to your routine was going to be hard if you kept this act up. So, you took a shower, changed your clothes and prayed there was something in this house that was going to cure your hangover. First thing's first - water. You felt like you could down a gallon. Drinking last night really took a toll on you this time. You walked into the kitchen and as soon as you did, the smell of burned eggs hit you and made you stop in your tracks like you had hit a wall. 

“Wow, what’s going on here?” You asked, waving your hand in front of your face to get rid of the smoke. 

“Hi! Good morning! I wanted to make some breakfast for my fake-but-not-so-fake girlfriend!” Peter said cheerfully when he saw you were there, turning towards you with the pan and wooden spatula in his hands. He was trying to make eggs, and failing miserably. Peter was still in his pajamas, his hair was everywhere. Seemed like the boy woke up and was practically on a mission to make breakfast as soon as he was awake.

“First of all, shhhh.” You shushed him, sitting down on a chair by the kitchen island, placing a hand on your forehead. “Second of all, I’m your nanny, not your… whatever you mentioned a few seconds ago.” 

He stared at you confused but went on with scrambling the eggs. 

“That’s weird, definitely not what you were saying or doing last night”.

You looked up at him. If your eyes could shoot lasers, they would. You would have absolutely killed him on the spot because of what he said. 

“What am I missing about last night?” 

“Missing? Wait, so you don’t remember us…” he stopped, turning to look at your face. He gulped when he saw the anger in your expression.

“Us doing what, Parker?”

“Well… you were pretty drunk.” He started, turning his back to you again. “And um, I drove us here.” 

“Go on.” 

“Well, we sat on the couch.” He said, taking a plate and placing it in front of you, still avoiding eye contact.

“Aha and then what?” You asked, starting to get worried. That sounded exactly like your dream.

“Um, we… I mean you… I didn’t want to take advantage of you in any way, but you kind of just did it, and you know how I feel about you so…” 

“I did what exactly?” 

“You kissed me. And I kinda kissed you back because I really like you, you know that.” 

The two of you stood in silence for a few seconds. He was too terrified of looking at you, you were too shocked and upset to even say anything.

“And what did we do after that?” You asked after a few seconds.

“Hmm, well, you kept saying things about your dreams of me and how I should do what I do in them.  And you were kissing my neck and… you gave me this.” He pulled the collar of his t-shirt down, revealing a hickey on his collarbone. “I really didn’t get the dream part, you were very much insisting on “doing the thing” but I’m not sure what “the thing” was and you wouldn’t really specify. It's not the first time you mention things about dreams, what's actually up with that? And then I had to pick up up and take you to-“ 

“I’ve heard enough.” You cut him off, standing up from your chair. He finally looked at you and you were staring back at him, which made him blush. 

You didn't know how you were supposed to feel about all of this. So the whole thing wasn't a dream? It was just a memory? You were silently freaking out on the inside. 

"Please tell me you used protection." You said after you got up from your spot.

His eyes shot up at you, confusion written all over his face. 

"Protection?Oh... OH-" he started, waving his hands in front of his chest "We did not do that! I would never! You were so drunk! No, no, no, we didn't do it." 

It finally felt like you could breathe again. So, it was a dream after all, or at least part of it. 

"Thank god!" you said, sitting back down and grabbing a water bottle that was conveniently already on the island. ''I'm so not prepared to go to jail for pedophilia!"

----

Another night, another party. This time you were determined to not let any alcohol inside your system. Last time you drank led to almost hooking up  with Peter and you were definitely not letting that happen again. This time you didn't allow him to come with you to the basement party. You knew there ware going to be a lot of drugs and what kind of babysitter would you be if you exposed him to that? No way in hell that was happening. Plus, it was sunday night already, he had school the next morning. One more reason not to bring him here. And of course, the most obvious being that you didn't want to spend more time with him than necessary, because your suppressed feelings for him kept slipping out. 

"Y/N" Lidia called and waved at you from the other side of the room. 

You were standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking around. You smiled once she got your attention, squeezing through the crowd to get to her. The smell of weed was suffocating and the room was already foggy from the smoke. You sat down on a poof next to your friend, tightening your ponytail. 

"Where's Peter?" she asked

"I would have appreciated a "hey, how are you?'' before Peter was brought up but okay." you rolled your eyes, making her laugh. "He's at home, not exposing his underage ass to alcohol and drugs. I mean his home, not mine." 

"Underage?"

"Yeah, he's an intern, he's 18. He's been building legos all afternoon, which makes him mentally 12."

She made an "oh" sound and nodded her head, taking a cigarette from the table and lighting it. 

"He seems nice, mature, he was really worried about you when you got lost last time." she said after taking a drag from the cigarette. 

"We broke up. Do you mind not talking about him tonight?" you asked her.

She passed you the cigarette. You took it reluctantly, you had promised yourself not drinking tonight, getting high had an unclear status. Suddenly the cigarette with Lidia's lipstick on the filter was between your lips, and the smoke was in your lungs. 

"Okay, I won't talk about him." she said, taking the cigarette back from you. "Just one question. How would you feel about linking me up with him? Nothing serious, I don't want to be his girlfriend or anything. Building legos all afternoon sounds kind of fun."

You thought about it for a second. If you said no to this, you would be admitting you actually had feelings for him. If you said yes, you were risking him developing feelings for her and forgetting about you. Both of those sounded really bad for you. But somehow, giving her the number was the most logical, most convenient way to force yourself to move on from this circus show you were currently stuck in. If they did end up having a thing, you wouldn't have to worry about him flirting with you, you wouldn't have to worry about cracking under the pressure and giving in. After thinking about it for a minute, you finally pulled out your phone and gave it to Lidia. She happily took it and put Peter's number in her own. 

----

High you was nothing like drunk you. The drunk version of you didn't really know what was going on around her, couldn't control her reactions or her actions. High you, however, was very aware of her surroundings, but hyperactive and happy. You were running around and talking to everyone like a dog that had the zoomies. Lidia and Peter had been texting throughout the night, by which you were pretending to not be bothered. But when he showed up at the top of the stairs in the middle of the night, you felt like you were hallucinating. Was the weed that hard really? No way you would start hallucinating. Soft giggles escaped your lips as you watched him walk down the stairs.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, holding back laughter once you met him at the bottom. 

"Wow, actually here to pick you up." he said, seeing the state you were in.

"Nah" you said, shaking your head and fixing the collar on his flannel. "You're here to flirt with Lidia, go." you said and pushed him into the room, sending him off.

He made a few large steps forward because of your force but stopped and turned to face you. 

"No, really, she said you got the zoomies and needed to go home. That's why I came, to pick you up."

You looked up at him, laughing softly.  Like you were going to believe that kind of nonsense. Sure, Lidia was your friend, but she was the one who asked you if you were okay with the idea of her hooking up with him. No way in hell she texted him just because she thought you needed to go home. Maybe it was a tactic to lure him in here? You looked around, making a step closer to him. You grabbed the sides of his open flannel while looking around the room, Lidia and some of her girlfriends were standing by the bar, having drinks. They were all looking over at the two of you, whispering something to each other. Was Lidia really going to turn into the anime villain? The only friend you had?

"You okay?" Peter asked you, placing a hand on the small of your back to grab your attention. 

"I need some air" you said, taking his free hand in yours and turning towards the stairs. "And your phone." 

"My phone? Why would you need that?" He asked, following you up the stairs. 

He gave you his phone, and stood by you while you read through the chat between him and Lidia. There was no one in the yard besides the two of you, which eased your nerves at least a little bit. She was most definitely flirting with him in those chats and he looked too oblivious in his replies. She had invited him over a few times and he had declined all of them. So, it really was a cruel plot to bring him to the party after all? You shoved the phone in his chest, startling him, before walking off somewhere. He gathered himself, running after you.

"Hey, hey, care to explain what's going on?" he grabbed your elbow, stopping you. You turned around to look at him. He seemed worried, tired and confused, which was his usual state around you. You looked around again, relaxing your shoulders once you were sure it was just the two of you there.

"Okay so, I was talking to Lidia, she asked me about you, I told her we broke up." you started, getting closer to him so you could whisper. He leaned in closer to hear you better while you nervously played with the hem of his flannel. "And after I told her that, she asked me for your number, because well... obviously she likes you."

"Oh." he replied. "And that is an issue because?"

You didn't say anything, you didn't even look in his eyes. You were starting to come down a bit, which meant you weren't as bold. 

''Communication, please?'' he said after the two of you stood there in awkward silence, placing a hand on your cheek and lifting your head so you would look at him. 

You did look, with your faces dangerously close to each other, which made you remember the kiss. It made you blush, you were starting to want more than just a kiss at that point. You looked at his lips, then into his eyes again, which made him smirk cockily. 

"I knew it!" he said, letting go of your face and throwing his hands in the air like he had just single handedly won a football game. "You were jealous! You actually like me!" 

You blinked rapidly a few times while you watched him run around. 

"Oh my god, you don't have to do a flip just because I was jealous!"

"So you admit it? Now I actually have to do a flip."

"No, Peter, don't." 

He did a flip anyway. It's not like it was hard for him, he was Spider-man after all. You facepalmed yourself as you watched him, shaking your head. It was kind of funny though, him being so happy over something so small. But it actually was a big deal to him, you finally admitting you had some feelings for him made him so happy, he felt like he could fly. 

"You just gave me the ick, I no longer feel anything." You joked, laughing softly.

He didn't take it as a joke, stopping immediately and walking over.

"So I did a flip for nothing?" 

You placed your hands around his neck, kissing his cheek. He wrapped his hands around your waist, pressing his forehead against yours. The two of you stood there in silence like this for a while, enjoying the moment. You heard a door close, which made you let go of him and turn around. He still had his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him as Lidia approached the two of you. You immediately tensed up, not sure how this scene was going to unfold. She did admit to liking him, you lied about not liking him. It really was a whole mess in your head. You didn’t want to lose your only friend over a boy, but you also didn’t want to lose Peter over something so dumb.

"I knew you two didn't really break up!" he said cheerfully, clapping her hands happily. 

"No. Well, in reality we never dated to begin with, he just said that because he's annoying." You confessed.

"Annoying?" Peter asked, acting offended. 

"He's scared of girls flirting with him. He's scared of girls in general."

"No, I'm not."

"Okay, okay, no need to justify anything, I'll leave you two to it!" Lidia interrupted, smiling at the two of you. "I just wanted to make sure my plan worked."

"Your plan?" Peter asked. 

"Yeah, I wanted to see if she would get jealous, she totally did! I wanted to know if she was actually a cyborg or not."

"A cyborg?"

Peter laughed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

"She's very capable of human emotions, such as anger and annoyance." he continued the joke, kissing the side of your head. You pushed his arm away crossing your arms in front of your chest. 

"Get lost, both of you!" you whined as they collectively made fun of you, walking away from them. 

"Thank you." Peter said to Lidia. She nodded in return, going back inside the house. He ran after you, hugging you from behind so you would stop. 

“I thought you weren’t drunk? Why are you throwing a tantrum?”

“I’m not. I wasn’t jealous, I take it back. I don’t like you.”

— 

Your back was pressed against the cold elevator wall, Peter’s fingers were gently touching the skin on your waist under your shirt. Your tongue was in his mouth while the two of you kissed hungrily. His hair was messy because you played with it while you made out. He lifted one of your legs, his hand running along it until he reached your butt, squeezing it playfully. The elevator door opened, which made you break the kiss. You did feel like you started coming down from the weed earlier in the evening, while still at the party even, but the effect definitely was not over yet. You looked at Peter, his arm was rested on the wall next to your head, he was looking down at you, panting softly. A soft blush was painted across the pale skin on his cheeks. He looked unbelievably cute. You grabbed the hand that was holding your ass, taking it in yours and leading him out of the elevator. The weed was making you very needy, and now that the rabbit was out of the hat, nothing was really stopping you from doing what you wanted most. And Peter was the thing you wanted to do the most right now. You walked rapidly to your bedroom, turning the lights on before pushing him on the bed. Peter looked at you in shock, he didn’t expect you to be this bold. Meanwhile you got on top of him, already trying to take his flannel off. He helped you with that, placing his hands on your hips, still processing that this whole thing is happening. 

“Do you mind taking part in this?” you asked, annoyed by how stunned he was underneath you.

“Yes! I mean, no, sorry! I’ll just stop talking…” 

“Yeah, that would be best.” you cut him off, kissing him afterwards while your hands went under his t-shirt and touched… spandex underneath it. You broke the kiss, sitting up and looking at him. 

“Are you wearing the Spider suit?” you asked him, furrowing your brows. 

He had completely forgotten about that.

“Yeah, I was on patrol when Lidia texted me to come over…”

“Please stop talking about her.” you whined

“You said you weren’t jealous.” He teased you, his hands moving under your shirt. He ran his fingertips along your back slowly, lifting your shirt further up with each movement. 

You didn’t reply, just took your shirt off and lay down on him, attacking his neck with kisses and soft nibbles. His breath hitched when your lips touched his skin, moaning softly when your teeth dug into it.

“How do you take that suit off?” you asked, undoing his jeans before you kissed him again. 

“Well, you just place your hand in the middle of my chest and it loosens up so you can take it off.”

“Take it off theeen.” you said, sitting up again.

You got off of him so he could get rid of all the clothes he was wearing, including the suit. It was your first time seeing him naked, which meant you had to stare. The clothes he usually wore weren't doing any justice to his physique, you could definitely tell that now. He snapped his fingers in front of you, pulling you out of your trance. 

“You good?” 

“Oh, I’m really good.” you smiled, getting on top of him again. 

After making out for a few more minutes, your hand reached down to his underwear, slipping inside and taking a hold of his dick. His hand grabbed your shoulder, breaking the kiss you both were very invested in, to look at you in shock. You smiled at him encouragingly, kissing his nose before you gave him a few strokes. It’s not like he needed them, he was already hard enough. You pulled his underwear down, he still looked terrified and tense. 

“Are you okay with this?” you asked. 

He nodded, closing his eyes and biting his lip while you stroked him again with your hand. You had to loosen him up a little bit so you kissed down his jaw and neck, placing soft butterfly kisses further and further down - on his chest, his stomach, until you reached his penis. You got off the bed, getting down on your knees to stand between his legs. Peter still had his eyes closed, his muscles would flex when you touched him. Was he actually a virgin? You chuckled at the thought, your lips pressing against the shaft. It made him moan and flinch softly, his eyes flew open and he saw you between his legs. It made him support himself on his elbows so he could look at you better. Once he was looking, you gave him the most innocent stare you had in you before taking the tip in your mouth, running your tongue over it. He threw his head back, his fingers digging into the sheets. You giggled softly after that, giving him a slow long lick from the bottom back to the tip before taking the entire thing in your mouth, bopping your head. Your hand was stroking the parts that you couldn’t fit in your mouth, watching him as he squirmed and moaned under your touch. It turned you on even more, watching his toned chest rise up and down, his stomach muscles flexing. Seeing him like this made you more needy than before, so you undid your jeans and slipped your free hand inside to touch yourself. You moaned with his dick in your mouth. 

“Ah, fuck.” he said, looking at you.

You two held eye contact for a few seconds while you went further down on him with your mouth, his hand found its way to your hair, resting there. Touching yourself wasn’t enough anymore, you needed him. You stopped sucking him off, resting your head on his leg while you looked at him. He whined when you stopped, looking at you. Peter’s fingers brushed some stray locks away from your face. Your fingers were still moving down your clit while you looked at him. 

“Pete.” you moaned softly, your knees weak because you were getting close. 

“Yes?” he replied between pants, cupping your cheek with his hand. 

He ran his thumb along your cheek. You hid your face in his thigh, your free hand was still loosely holding his length as you came, moaning his name once more. 

“Fuck, that was so hot.” Peter said, still petting your cheek calmly as you were coming down. 

“Just wait ‘till we get to the actual sex.” you laughed, taking your hand out of your jeans. 

You moved on the bed, sitting down next to him before you placed your cum-coated fingers on his lips and he obediently took them in his mouth, licking them off clean. He held eye contact the entire time, making you bite your lip as you felt his tongue swirling around your fingers. Now you really needed to fuck him. Peter’s hand moved to undo your bra, taking it off of you and immediately pinning you on the bed afterwards. He showered your chest with kisses, his fingers quickly pulling your pants down. You whined from the feeling of his soft lips against your skin, his hands touching your body. You loved it more than you ever imagined you would. 

“Who told you you were in charge?” You asked playfully, flipping him over again. 

He was slightly puzzled by your sudden movements, throwing his hands back while he looked up at you. In his eyes, you were the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. You didn’t have enough nerve to take your panties off so you just pushed them to the side before taking his member with your other hand, teasing around the entrance. His hands were on your hips again, his head back while he enjoyed the feeling of your wetness on his tip, it felt heavenly, intoxicating, but incredibly painful to be teased like that. 

“Who told you you could be on top?” he asked in return to your previous question, digging his nails in your soft, silky skin. 

“Do I hear a complaint?”

“No, no, definitely not.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“What about-’’ he started, unsure if he should finish the question. “Protection?”

“Fuck.” you cussed out, it had slipped your mind altogether. “Okay um, a few minutes like this and we use a condom after?”

He nodded at your suggestion, neither of you could wait any longer for this. You squeezed the shaft of his dick, holding it in place while you slowly slid down it. The two of you moaned in sync, which made you laugh softly. It took a few seconds to adjust to the size before you started moving your hips. You didn’t want to brag about your skill, but you knew you were going to give him a very good time. All these dancing lessons when you were younger were paying off so well right now. You had one hand running up and down his stomach while your other hand was on his leg, supporting you as you rolled your hips on his, like the good cowgirl you were. Peter felt like it was too good to be true, if he didn’t have your nails digging into his leg, which was a pain he was definitely willing to ignore, he would have assumed this was a dream. The way your body moved like fluid was hypnotizing, and combined with the way you felt, he was really losing his mind. The two of you were playing a very dangerous game. His name rolled out of your lips, which was enough to drive him crazy given the circumstances. Peter closed his eyes, everything was getting too much for him. 

“Pete, look at me.” you whined when you saw him.

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” 

“I can’t, I’ll- Fuck.”

You stopped, getting off of him. What you were doing really was dangerous, you had to use protection at that point. You opened the drawer on your nightstand, taking a condom and tossing it to him. He grabbed it, unwrapping the thing and putting it on. 

“I think it’s kinda…”

You looked down at it, the condom did seem small on him. It made you laugh, kissing him after that. 

“Wanna be on top?” you asked him. 

He nodded again, but he had different plans to yours. He grabbed your hips, turning you over on your stomach. 

“Peter!” you protested in shock, looking back at him. 

Peter smiled coily, positioning himself. He pulled your hips back slightly with one arm, inserting himself and started thrusting in you forcefully. You cried out burying your face in the mattress while he fucked you. This whole being innocent act really got you in the beginning, you actually believed he was a virgin for a second. You should have known he was a freak the second he licked your fingers. He was absolutely merciless, holding your hips in place while he slammed you, making you moan and whine with each movement. You were never the loud type, but the way he was fucking you, you just couldn’t help it. Peter’s hands moved up and down your back, held your waist. He made sure to touch every inch of skin that was exposed to him. His hand wrapped around one of your wrists, pulling it back. He did the same with the other, holding both of your small wrists with his hand at the small of your back. He really was a freak. You couldn’t move, he had full control now. All you could do was sit there, whine and cry his name while he rearranged your guts. It was getting too much, even for you, it felt like he knew all the right spots to make your legs shake. You tried moving your hips with his, but he would shush you and hold you down so you couldn’t move. You hated not being in control, but he wasn’t giving you a choice. You were actually enjoying being absolutely dominated by this shy, awkward geek. You were having a shaking orgasm all over his dick sooner than both of you had expected. He had to let go of your wrist and use both hands to help you stay steady while he fucked you through it, and even after you were done, he didn’t stop. 

“Peter, Peter, please, I can’t.”

“What was that? Were you begging me?”

“Please” you cried out. 

You hated being overstimulated, it felt so much better to just stop for a short break and do another round, but this you hated. He lay on top of you, not stopping even for a second, so he could whisper in your ear.

“I’ll stop when I make you squirt, princess.” 

You whined, feeling his body weight on top of you. He was so warm, you could feel his toned muscles on your skin, his hair was tickling the side of your face while he kissed your neck and your shoulders. You gripped on the sheets in front of you, you were moaning his name, it was the only thing you could say, the only thing on your mind. I had never squirted before, you weren’t even sure you could, until you did. It was a shaking, strong orgasm, you felt like you had peed yourself but in the best way possible. It lasted so long and it was so intense you could barely breathe after it. You were still disorientated when Peter pulled out, turning you around, he came on your stomach and breasts. Your legs were flooded, he was wet all over as well, your sheets were soaked. You were too fucked to even think straight, to even care that you were about to fall asleep in this whole mess.

—-

You were woken up by the alarm on Peter’s phone. It was 7 am. You opened your eyes, seeing a curly head next to yours. 

“Oh no.” you said, sitting up. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” 

You shook him awake, which made him groan in displeasure. 

“Jesus, what time is it?” he asked “I’m so sore, wow.” 

“No, no, no, no, no.” you kept repeating over and over. 

“What’s up with you?”

“This didn’t happen! Please tell me it was a dream! It didn’t happen, right?”

“By the looks of it, it definitely happened.”

“God, no.” You cried, laying back down. 

You definitely needed a minute to process it, staring at the ceiling, Peter rolled over on his side, supporting his head with one arm while he looked at you. 

“I would suggest a shower, but I can see that you’re freaking out.”

You gave him the death glare, which made him slowly get out of the bed before you actually got the chance to strangle him. He was butt naked, which confirmed your memories of the night before. You groaned and  turned your attention back to the ceiling, cursing yourself mentally for allowing this to happen. After a solid 3 minutes, it was time for a quick shower before driving Peter to school. He was already late, you didn’t want him to be even more late. 

You caught him in his spidersuit, standing on the edge of the window with his backpack on his back. He turned his head to look at you, already holding the web he had shot a web somewhere into the distance. 

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked him, still in your towel. 

“Going to school?”

“In your suit?”

“I’m late, this is the fastest way there.”

“Take it off, I’m driving you.”

“But-”

“No, that’s too risky, take it off.”

“Well that gave me flashbacks from last night.”

“Forget them.”

The silence in the car while you drove him to school was deafening. Peter was looking out of the window and you were trying to concentrate on driving. But he kept distracting you, every time he moved you got freaked out that he would touch you. And you were even more terrified because you actually wanted him to touch you, it was more anticipation rather than fright. And his breathing, you were either hyper focused on his presence in general, or he was just breathing way too loud. And it reminded you of last night, his breath hitching under your touch, the warm tinkle on your skin from when he exhaled as he was on top of you. You were so drowned in your memories that you were caught off guard when the high school building suddenly appeared in front of you. You stopped the car in the parking lot, finally turning your head to look at Peter. He smiled weakly, his hand reaching out to hold yours. You were hesitant at first but you let him do it. 

“I don’t want this thing to come between us.” he said 

“You’re going to be late, you should go.”

“We really need to talk about this.”

“You’re gonna be late.”

He sighed, throwing his head back in annoyance. He ran his thumb along your hand, sitting like this for a few seconds. You couldn’t help but stare at your hands, a tingly feeling in your stomach with every movement he made. 

“Have fun in class.” he told you, opening the door and walking out of the car. 

—-

It had been two days since you decided to stay over at Lidia’s place. Being around Peter was too much to handle for you right now. He had been blowing up your phone ever since you disappeared. You didn’t really disappear, you didn’t want him to think you got kidnapped so you left him a note that you’d be staying with a friend for a few days. 

It was a tough few days, you appeared at Lidia’s door shaking because you had been crying too hard. She helped you in, holding you while you cried your heart’s content out. After a good sleep in the night, mixed with some confusing stories you were trying to tell your friend, you were actually finally ready to discuss the situation. You walked out of the bedroom into the kitchen, sitting at the table as Lidia gave you a hot cup of tea. 

“You doing okay?” she asked softly.

You nodded, taking a sip from the warm liquid. 

“Want to talk about why having feelings for someone is such a drama?”

“It’s more complicated than just that.”

“How?”

“For starters, he’s barely legal. Also, he’s basically a colleague of mine and office romance is a big no.”

“You don’t even work in an office.”

“I didn’t mean it literally. How do you smoothly transition from nanny to girlfriend overnight? I imagine Tony freaking out if he finds out about this. They have a very weird son-father relationship.” You fussed your brows when you thought about it.

The two of you sat in silence, Lidia looked at you smiling like she had an evil plan. Your eyes met hers and you knew she was about to suggest something really crazy

“You can always leave Stark Industries. How about working for Oscorp Industries? I know Harry Osborn, he’s a really cool guy.”

“That’s basically like sleeping with the enemy.”

“Come on, it’s not like you’re planning on being the Stark nanny for your entire life! You can check out your options. You’re pretty, smart and young. Top of the class in both math and physics, you’re wasting your time babysitting. And Peter would no longer be your coworker.”

“I’m not EXCLUSIVELY babysitting. I do science work at Stark too. And I can't do that to Tony, he already pays me way too much for the job I do, he took me in when I had nothing left... In a very weird way he's like a father to me.”

“If I were you, I’d be trying to actually bag Harry Osborn. He’s your fan.”

You looked at her with the side of your eye. Whose side was she on? You had been crying for two days straight because you had feelings for Peter and suddenly she’s suggesting you start dating someone else? 

“Are you just saying that because you still want to fuck Peter? How does Osborn Jr. even know I exist?” you asked her.

“Oh no, you already did that, cute Stark intern if way off limits at this point.” She said, taking a banana from the fruit basket and peeling it. “It was just a suggestion. If dating Peter is sooo complicated, just date someone else instead. Harry used to take Math with us last semester, he was asking around if you were tutoring but I didn't know you back then."

“But that would break his heart!’’

“Honey, you’re already breaking his heart. You keep saying you don’t want him, but you let him be your ‘fake boyfriend’ for the party, then you kiss him for real. After that you have a fake breakup with him, and the same night you sleep with him? And he has all his hopes up that you finally feel the same way, so you just run and hide from him. If that’s not toxic behavior, then I don’t know what is.” 

She was right, you were leading Peter on, constantly playing hot and cold with him. One minute you wanted him and the next you didn’t. If you were feeling confused, which you definitely were, then it was probably even worse for him. 

“Oh, god, I’m an actual asshole to him.”

Lidia nodded, biting off her banana.

—-

After the dire realization that you were a terrible person that did not deserve anything good to ever happen to you ever again, Lidia decided it would be good for you two to go out and eat some ice cream to cheer you up. You knew that no amount of ice cream could ever fix the damage you had done, but it sure was a way to give you some kind of dopamine, which you desperately needed. Peter still hadn’t given up on calling and texting, which was making you feel even worse for what you were doing to him. Lidia made sure to cover your tracks when he texted her in desperation, assuming you had gone to her since you had no one else. He was right, but she didn’t tell him where she lived and would only inform him that you were doing somewhat okay. That didn’t help his stress in any way, shape or form, if anything it just made him feel worse, like he had fucked his chances up big time. 

But Lidia took you to her favorite gelato place anyway, treating you to some pistachio gelato, which you weren’t sure whether you loved or hated. Just like you did with Peter. But it was nice to go out for a change, and try something new. It was good to get your mind off of that awkward geek that has been driving you crazy for months now. After the cute gelato date, you decided to walk down two blocks to one of your favorite coffee shops. You went there all the time to get orders for the Avenger meetings, it was close to Stark tower and everyone appreciated a good coffee blend. 

“So, that’s actually where you live?” Lidia asked, looking up at the glass building in the distance, coffee in hand. 

“Yep.”

“The view must be amazing!”

“Breathtaking is a more appropriate word.” 

And just as you were engrossed in the view, finally feeling some kind of peace after an eternity, you saw a red and blue spot swing around. 

“Oh no.” you said, turning to Lidia, using your hand to turn her into the direction from which you came from, pushing her so she could go.

“What happened?Why are we going?”

“Just trust me, we need to go!” you said, still pushing her.

But you were too late, he had already spotted you. In a matter of seconds, Spider-man dropped down from the sky right in front of the two of you. 

“We have to talk.” The masked one said, looking at you, as you attempted to hide behind Lidia. 

The girl turned to look at you, slightly squatted down so you could hide behind her back.

“You know Spider-man?” she asked, stepping away to expose you to him.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking at you with his head tilted to the side. 

“How do you know spider-man??” Lidia asked you. 

“I don’t, stranger danger.” You said once you gained your composure, looking at him. 

He laughed at your words, shaking his head. 

“We both work with the Avengers, she brings me coffee every meeting.”

“You don’t even drink coffee, you big man-child, you beg me to bring you hot chocolate so you don’t feel excluded from the coffee drinkers.” 

“Oh, so you know my coffee order but I’m somehow a stranger?”

You were blowing the cover, which was really bad for the two of you. 

“Okay I do know him.” you admit, turning to Lidia. 

“And we need to talk, now.” 

Before you even had the chance to reply he took your coffee cup and shoved it in Lidia’s hands, wrapping his arm around your waist and swinging you away from the scene. He had never done this before, you were actually shaking with fear for your life. You wrapped your arms and legs around him like a koala, holding him so tightly you were probably going to strangle him soon. He landed the two of you on a roof when he noticed you weren’t okay with swinging. 

“You can let go now, we stopped.” he said, you had hidden your face in his chest, eyes shut as tight as humanly possible. The wind really had stopped. You looked up at him, letting go and stepping down, taking a few steps back while fixing your outfit. 

“You wanted to talk?” you reminded, finally looking at him.

“What the hell did I do to push you away this bad?” he just exploded, all of the bottled up thoughts and feelings taking over. He was pacing around nervously while he talked, waving his hands in the air to emphasize the words. “Like for real, I finally thought I had a breakthrough with you, after all of this goddamn time, you actually admit what we both knew was true and then just…. You flip a switch and you run away? We’re back to square one? What more do you want me to do, Y/N? What else can I possibly do to get to you when you constantly refuse to communicate, you systematically run away from both your feelings and me? I’m really tired and confused all of the time because you just can’t seem to mak-”

“You’re right.” you cut him off. 

He stopped walking around and looked at you. If he didn’t have the mask on, you would probably be able to read his expression, but you were guessing it was pure shock anyway. 

“I’m right?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” you nodded. “I thought that if I pushed you away enough times you would just give up. But you never did. Then I let my guard down and this whole mess happened. It’s not that I don’t like you, I actually do, despite you being the most annoying person I have ever met in my entire life. I was toxic to you, like radioactive even, even more than that spider that bit you. I just thought, and I still do, that given our circumstances, it’s unwise to date.”

“If this is about me being younger again, you’re so wrong. Despite our age difference, I’m the one who actually wanted to work this out, right? You’re being immature.”

“It’s not about age. Well, it is kinda, but I genuinely think I'll be a bad girlfriend to you.”

He walked up to you, placing a hand on your cheek. You put your hand over his, looking at the mask. 

“Don’t say that, you’ll be an amazing girlfriend.”

“No, Pete, I’ll act the same way I do now. I’ll be inconsistent and push you away and… hurt you.”

He stroked your cheek with his thumb, pulling you into a tight hug after that. 

“How about we try? For a month?”

You pressed yourself to him, thinking about it. A month didn’t sound like a long time.

“Okay.” you said, he tried to let go but you didn’t let him, scared to see his reaction. It wasn't going to hurt you to try. Even if it made your blood run cold.

He moved one arm up, showing you his pinky. Peter really wanted to make this a pinky promise? Real mature. You laughed at his act but did it anyway. 

“And what if it doesn’t work out?” you asked him, finally looking up as you locked pinkies.

“I’ll make it work out.”

“Just a heads up, I’m not going as your prom date, Parker.”

----

I'm tagging everone who asked for a part 2! Pls dm me if you want your tag removed!

@groundclueless @spiderman-stilinski @sovrwolfie @wtvbabes

@writingfortheunloved @leavemeoutofitkay @ivyquill

[bittenbyyou]

Pampered

Boyfriend!Peter Parker x Reader

genre: fluff

description: You pamper your boyfriend with skincare after a long day. 

word count: 1.8k

warnings: Peter knows absolutely nothing about skincare and is so endearing. Fluffy fluff. 

a/n: I’m not a skincare expert, but I do love learning about it. And I thought the idea of Peter getting pampered was adorable because he deserves to be taken care of. Please reblog if you enjoyed! :)

You checked the time on your phone, tapping your foot on the floor anxiously. Peter’s nighttime patrols have been getting longer and longer to where he sometimes wouldn’t come home until 2 A.M. Even you, who was a night owl, had your limits.

A subtle squeak soon caught your attention as you whipped your head to look at the window. Sure enough, you saw a red gloved hand slide the window open before the famous Spider-Man crawled through upside-down. 

“Hi beautiful,” your boyfriend said from the ceiling. You got up from the bed, hands on your hips. 

“You had me worried,” you said, though your light-hearted tone let Peter know you weren’t really upset. With a gentle, muffled thud, he touched down on the floor and swiftly removed his mask.

“I know, I’m sorry. I got caught up with a bank robbery and then there was a fire—”

“A fire?!”

“—and then these thugs tried to rob an old lady. Can you imagine that? But she beat them with her cane like bam! Bam! Bam!” he continued, reenacting the scene for you. “I barely had to do anything. You should’ve seen it!”

The way he talked about crime fighting was incredibly endearing. He was always so passionate and upbeat, like it was his favorite thing in the world because… it was. Along with you of course. And that’s why you fell in love with him. He truly loved what he did. Not many would go through such lengths to protect their city the way Peter did. You could tell by the glint in his eyes that he was meant for this.

“Sounds hilarious,” you said, letting out a giggle. You cupped his face with both hands, inspecting for any blemishes or scars. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I’m good. Really.” He grabbed your hands and placed a warm kiss on one of them. “Now let’s go to bed. I’m beat.”

“No. You have to brush your teeth and floss.”

He slumped his shoulders. “I’m really tired.”

“Babe, hygiene is important. Plus we gotta do your skincare.”

“It’s too many steps,” he whined. 

“I’ll do your skincare for you. But go brush first,” you ordered, pointing to the bathroom. He pressed the black spider emblem on his suit where his chest was, making it expand and fall off his body like a deflated balloon. 

“Yes ma’am…” He walked away from you in a sulking, slouching position and you laughed. 

“Quit being dramatic.”

“It’s so~ far~.”

“Don’t make me tickle you.”

“I’m going, I’m going!” he exclaimed, running away from you as fast as possible. 

Peter took longer than expected because he felt the need to shower once he realized how sweaty he was. The water relaxed him but also made him feel more awake. It was already late in the night (or early in the day), so he didn’t care anymore about sleep.

You waited patiently and patted the mattress when you saw him come back in nothing but his boxers. 

“Come on, lie down.” He obeyed and rested his head on the pillow, closing his eyes. “Put this on first.”

Peter opened his eyes to see you dangling the pink headband with a large bow in front of his face. He gave you a “are you serious?” look but put it on anyway, being careful to push all the hair out of his face with it. You tried to refrain from laughing, but failed once he shot you a glare. 

“I feel ridiculous.”

“No~, you’re adorable.”

“You’re laughing.”

You pressed your lips together and shook your head. “No, I’m not.”

Peter chuckled and closed his eyes. “Alright. Make me beautiful.”

Deep down, he loved being pampered by you even if he didn’t want to admit it. With everything going on in his life, taking care of his skin was the least of his worries. But you were adamant about it, passionate even, that he had to take care of his skin everyday. You even created a skincare routine for him, which he felt had too many steps (it was three). How you did this for yourself everyday, he had no clue. But he loved how you cared so much for him and these little acts of love made his heart feel warm and fuzzy. 

"Did you remember to put on sunscreen this morning?" you asked, your voice carrying a hint of playfulness as if you were teasing him.

“Yes,” he answered quite proudly.

“Did you reapply every two hours?”

“... I’m supposed to reapply?”

You grabbed the bottle of micellar water, shaking the bottle before drenching a reusable cotton pad with it. Leaning over, you swiped the pad gently all over Peter’s face. He smiled with his eyes at the cooling sensation. 

“Yeah. The SPF doesn’t last all day unless you reapply.”

“But I wear my suit and that shields me from the sun all day,” he said, every word enunciated with the pout of his lips. God, he didn’t understand how cute he was. It took everything in you not to kiss him right now.

“You take off your mask a lot and if you don’t protect your skin, the sun can damage it. Open your eyes.” He obeyed. “Look at how dirty this pad is. The grime and sweat and oils from your day.”

Peter’s eyes widened a bit at the gray pad, still not used to how much dirt he could accumulate in a day. “Wow, that came from my face?”

“Mmhmm.”

“What’s the thing you used?” he asked, pointing to the bottle in your hand.

“Micellar water. It’s like a makeup remover.”

“I’m not wearing makeup.”

“I know. But it takes off the dirt on your face. And the one layer of sunscreen you had,” you said, emphasizing the word “one”. He gave you a cheeky grin.

“Okay, I’ll put on more sunscreen. I promise.” He held out his pinky and you did the same, locking him in on his promise. 

“Good. Time for a cleanser.”

“What’s that again?”

You pumped some cleanser into your hands and then added enough water from the bowl you had prepared earlier to lather it. You rubbed your hands together until bubbles had formed. 

“It’s like soap but specifically for your face. Close your eyes.”

You rubbed the cleanser over Peter’s face, careful not to touch his eyes or lips. This was one of your favorite parts because you got to admire your handsome boyfriend up close, appreciating every feature. 

“So like bar soap?”

“... Please don’t tell me you’ve been using bar soap on your face.”

“I use it everywhere.”

“Everywhere…? So like… your balls?”

“Um… uh… no? That’d be ridiculous,” he said, letting out a nervous laugh. The loud sigh that left your lips let him know he was in for it now. 

“Peter, you can’t use the same soap bar for your dick and face!”

“But it’s soap!”

“I… I don’t even know what to say. You’re supposed to be the genius here.”

“... It’s soap.”

“Okay, I’m tabling this. At least you were cleaning your face. From now on, use the cleanser I bought you for your face. It’s a hydrating one because you have dry skin.”

Peter gasped and clutched his chest dramatically like you had just insulted him. “I do not.”

“You don’t even know what that means.”

“I thought you said I have beautiful skin.”

“You do, you donut. You’re lucky it’s so nice even though you don’t take care of it.”

You grabbed the towel you prepared and wiped the suds away, revealing your adorable Peter, who was smiling from your touch. 

“Where’s that thing that smells like oranges?”

“Hmm? The cleansing balm? It’s harder to rinse it off if you’re in bed. That’s why I used micellar water today.”

“Aw… but I like the orange one.”

“Then you can do it yourself.”

“No, I’m good,” he said, shaking his head. You rolled your eyes at how childish he could be sometimes, yet you still found him endearing. 

“Okay, two more steps.”

“Two?!”

“Babe, I have like six steps in mine. You’re fine.”

“How do you do this everyday?”

“I don’t know. I find it relaxing. Besides, I want to look my age and not age faster because I didn’t take care of myself. Plus skin cancer is scary.”

Peter nodded because that was the first thing you’ve said tonight that he fully comprehended. “What are the last two steps?”

“I’m putting on a serum treatment for you and then a moisturizer to seal everything in.”

“That sounds fancy.”

You grabbed the bottle of serum for his skin needs, taking the dropper it came with and placing a couple drops on the back of your hand. Then you used your ring finger, the gentlest finger, to dab the product all over Peter’s face. He giggled when you touched his neck, the tickling sensation making him squirm. 

“Babe,” you scolded playfully. “Stay still.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it.” His eyes fluttered open and he watched you work your magic, loving your concentrated expression. To him, you were the most beautiful girl in the world and the way you cared for him made him feel special. 

You pumped out a couple squirts of your fancy moisturizer, making sure to tell him it was a fancy moisturizer and he laughed, thanking you for your sacrifice. 

“Seriously, this cost me a lot. And I’m using it on your face so… you’re welcome.”

“Thanks. The villains in this city must be so jealous right now,” he teased.

“They should be.” You leaned back and grinned, satisfied with your work. Peter’s face was glowing, the lamp in his room illuminating his face even more. “You look gorgeous.”

Peter took off the pink headband, placing it on his nightstand before pulling you on top of him. “You’re gorgeous.”

You got into a more comfortable position as you straddled him, pecking his lips, cheek, and nose. “I love you.”

“I love you too. But…”

“But?”

“You messed up my skincare. You just transferred so much bacteria onto my clean face.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m serious. This is unprofessional. I want a refund.”

“You’re so ridiculous sometimes, you know that?” 

He broke out into another cheeky grin. “You love me though.”

“I don’t know… you don’t want my kisses.” You got off him and laid on your side, pulling the covers over your body.

“No, no, I want them.” 

“Good night.”

Peter forced you to turn around, planting a big smooch on your lips. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, holding onto his soft curls as you pulled him closer. As your lips parted from his, you both looked into each other's eyes with a loving gaze, unable to pull away. 

“[Y/N]... I have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you eat the cleansing balm?”

“Babe, no.”

“But it smells so good.”

“I’m going to bed.”

[goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog]

I can’t help thinking about TASM!Peter Parker trying to be super gentle with human!reader when he fucks them. His superhuman strength makes it hard to gauge how much force he’s using while he’s thrusting. I love the idea of Peter being all soft and caring like,

“Are you sure I’m not hurting you?”

Reader rolls their eyes and kisses him, “We have a safe word for a reason, Petey.”

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt 1 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: I have a meet-cute in a coffee shop. but for mob!peter.

words: 5.5k

warnings: Shameless TASM mob!daddy Peter fantasies, including, but not limited to, kidnapping, knives, bang bang shoot shoot, pining, eventual smut

Part 1

“Just a coffee, black. Biggest ya got.”

Wearily, yet still wired, Peter tapped his fingers on the stainless steel counter. It was late. Or early. Streetlamps still blazed in unholy darkness outside. It had been a long night. But he had felt like he’d been up for years. 

Across from him, a young woman wearing overalls and a daisy-yellow bandana gave him a heavy nod. “Sure,” she replied, gravely. “I have to warn you, though. We over-roast our beans. It’s bitter as hell.”

He blinked at her, not expecting such honesty. She had a trusting face. Pretty eyes. 

“Ya wanna sweeten it up for me?”

He could hear the lame pickup line of a younger version of himself. One that wore a confident smirk, walked with bravado. One that hadn’t lost what he had lost. The older Peter of today brushed that voice away. “I like bitter.”

He glanced up at her eyes and saw sympathy. “Oof, tragic,��� she frowned, shaking her head teasingly, her coyness peeking through. She retrieved a paper cup and filled the dark liquid to the brim. 

The personalness of it threw him off. Peter had wandered in like a zombie. He only briefly heard her ask for his order and his name, both of which he gave, and he expected nothing in return but the coffee. He watched her carefully, shifting uncomfortably. He was the only customer in the shop at this hour, but he didn’t expect to be seen. 

“Here you go,” she declared, handing the cup over. “One large black graveyard dirt, extra tears.”

It wasn’t so much the joke, rather the way she beamed when she said it. It was like sunlight peeking through the curtains just right, casting a familiar space in an ethereal glow. 

She glowed.

Seeing it awakened his senses. He felt the way flowers must feel, desperately reaching their petals out toward the sun after they’d been neglected through a long, dark winter. 

Before he knew it, he was smiling back. Teeth bared, eyes crinkled, grinning like a fool. He thought his muscles couldn’t remember what smiling felt like. It ached.

She reached out, extending the cup towards him. But it was so much more than that.

His gaze darted from her sparkling eyes, to the curve of her mouth, back to the apples of her cheeks—

“Thanks for stopping by, Ben!”

The illusion vanished, as did his smile. He pulled away, staring at the stainless steel countertop for a moment. He thanked her and took the cup from her hand, dropping a couple of bucks in the jar. He didn’t spare her another glance as he turned on his heel. 

For a moment there, he felt free. He’d forgotten what he was underneath the leather gloves, thick cashmere coat, the bitter coffee, and the fake name.

His hand found the door, the winter chill penetrating his glove. Just as he began to push it open, he heard a shout.

“Wait!” 

He did, glancing back at her, against his better judgment.

“I forgot to tell you,” she said, almost shrinking into herself with a sheepish expression. She blushed at the eagerness and volume of her own voice. “To have a great day.”

He blinked, brow creased.

“It’s, uh, sorry— it’s stupid,” she rolled her eyes, slapping her palm across her forehead. “But I’m… I’m supposed to say ‘have a great day’ and I always forget, maybe ‘cos I’m a little ADHD, and my boss always reminds me that I need to say it every time, but that’s awkward, right? Like it needs to come up in conversation, I can’t just blurt it. I mean, I can. Like, I just did. But that was weird, right? It was weird. And sometimes, I’m thinking about the next 3 things I have to do, or the thing I just did and I get… I don’t know, a little lost in the moment, and then it passes, and then I felt like I missed out, y’know?”

He stared. “No?”

“On saying what I want really to say,” she said with a voice full of warmth—gentle and genuine in tone. Her babbling ceased as she emphatically declared. “I really hope you have a great day. You deserve it.”

There it was again. That smile. Sincerity and kindness sliced through him like a razor. He was a child again, getting a kiss on the cheek from his mother. Her cheerful gaze lit him up inside, like setting off a roman candle beneath his ribs. It wrapped him in a firm embrace, filling him, shielding him, and grounding him all at once.

This time, he couldn't look away. Didn't want to. He waited until he could hear the flutter in her heart. He was smiling again.

“Thank you. I think I will.”

And as if she’d cast some sort of spell, he did. The way she enchanted him, he was certain if they lived 400 years ago they might accuse her of witchcraft. He always had a good day when he saw her. No matter how painful, or dirty, or bloody. She became his good luck charm. His ability to ‘have a good day’ became entirely dependent on seeing her.

He shouldn’t go back there. He should try the Starbucks down the street. But he couldn’t help it.

She’d pour him basic drip coffee, announcing aloud to the whole shop as she handed it to him. “Here you go! Extra large, extra-hot dark roast, with extra-darkness and a splash of angst.” There was affection in her gaze despite the sarcasm of her voice.

“One extra large coffee, black as the devil’s soul.” She’d whisper to him privately, gifting him with a good-luck smile, even when the coffee shop was full of people during the morning rush. In those moments, she made him feel like they were the last two people on the planet. And it always made something in his belly flutter.

“I have an extra-black ‘Fault in Our Stars,’ with a shot of ‘The Road’ for my friend in the suit!” 

Her friend. He couldn’t help but blush. How could he come to this place every day, stand in line, and feel like he was coming home? She was magic.

The coffee really was awful.

“Let me know if you ever want me to sweeten that up for you,” she graciously suggested, as the cup left her fingers. The brush of her fingertips against his felt like wildfire. Her comment was innocent, but his mind wasn’t. “I think I can make it taste better—I have some window cleaner left.”

He was smiling again. It blossoms into something reciprocal. That should be enough. He shouldn’t be greedy. He should walk away now. He should run. 

“What would you suggest?” he asked coyly. It was the first time he had ever done so.

A million saccharine-infused terms of endearment flowed through his mind—sweetness, sugar, gumdrop, sweetheart, sweetie, cookie, peach, muffin, angelcake—most of them were trash. (Really, Parker? What is this, high school? Whaddya doin’? You ever talk to a woman before? Why do you sound like somebody’s grandpa? Such a creepy —

Some of them weren’t appropriate between friends. None of them appropriate coming from a stranger.

That’s what he was, deep down. God, this precious girl—she was so trusting. Was she friendly like this with everyone? No, he had noticed as time went on. She’s warm and kind to everyone she meets. But not like this. Not the way she is for him.

“Ooh, getting adventurous, are we?” she teased him, stars in her eyes. 

For him. All he could do was stare back in awe at the Milky Way in her gaze. He would follow them and venture on any journey where they may lead.

“How do you feel about lavender and honey?”

Flowers and sugar for Brits and fancy people. He quirked his brow at the concept. “In coffee?”

Her eyes twinkled with excitement, as she spun around and began her concoction. 

For him.

He needed to leave. But he followed the length of her arms, the delicacy of her fingers, the way her hips moved as she danced around her workstation. He was hypnotized again. 

He imagined dancing with her. Letting her body flow and wrap around his like curtains billowing in the breeze. He barely registered that she was holding a new cup out toward him. While he was daydreaming, she had written his name on the cup and drew a little heart next to it.

He stared at it. It’s not exactly his name. But it’s the one he’d given her. And in return, she had given him so much.

He took the cup from her hand and couldn’t help but feel like he was undeserving of her kindness. Or her attention. Or her heart.

“Don’t make that face,” she softly admonished as if she could read his mind, or she might have read his sad look as disproval of her efforts. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

She gave him a smile. She gave and gave and gave. Gave him a reason to keep living. She didn’t even know.

He took a sip. It warmed his tongue, his throat, his heart. It ached.

“S’good,” he hummed, honestly surprised. He was telling her the truth. He reached for his wallet with his free hand, retrieving a wad of bills. He always paid in cash.

She waved him off, mock offense on her face. “No, silly. That’s not how gifts work!” Her laugh sounded like church bells. 

She was a gift. For him. His flower. His Honey.

“This one’s on the house,” she assured him, as he hesitantly lowered his wallet. She whispered low, in a tone that burned him up inside. “It’ll be our secret.” His mind felt like it was rebooting. She said it innocently, but he was anything but. She scoffed with a flippant laugh, “Just don’t tell my boss, okay?”

Her boss. He knew about her boss. Tod. With one ‘D’. 

Some mornings, particularly Monday through Thursday, he’d see the pencil-like man stiffly pacing the back of the bar while she and another young girl kept up with demand. Hawkish eyes, always watching. Always judging. Rarely picking up a milk jug himself.

He dominated the register. Peter hated handing him cash. His face reminded him of a cheese grater if it could look unhappy. “Are you sure you don’t want a pastry?” he offered the ‘add-on’ with what was supposed to be a smile. 

Peter’s eyes shot over to his Honey as she was artfully pouring foam, adding her magic to someone else’s cup. She refused to look at Peter and he hated it. It reminded him of a defense tactic. Don’t look at the thing you don’t want to be taken away. As if he was a prized possession that she wanted to hide away from Tod, who might accuse her of having ‘favorites.’

It stirred wild emotions to be thought of that way, especially by her. 

How dare her boss accuse her of any wrongdoing. How dare he threaten her.

“I’m fine,” said Peter, with a chill he hoped Tod could feel. 

He needed to leave. 

He needed to take his Honey and his Lavender Latte and just go. 

He shook his head. His brain was lagging again. He turned away from the straight-backed scarecrow before a robotic ‘thank you for being a customer’ could be responded to. 

Peter waited. Eyes on the floor. Eyes on the exit. Eyes on the windows. Eyes on her, but only briefly. He waited and daydreamed bitterly, waiting for her to call out a name that wasn’t his. 

“Honey Lavender Latte,” his enchantress called out. Hearing her voice caught him from his downward spiral. He made eye contact with her as he took the cup from her hands. Warmth radiated from her eyes, although muted. It was enough to soothe and comfort him. 

She blushed, sheepishly, unable to contain the smile in her voice. “Have a lavender-ly day.”

His mood lifted. Such a silly girl. Witchcraft, indeed. “Thanks, Honey,” he replied, without thinking.

Her big eyes widened for a moment, and her heart quickened. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked away, unsuccessfully hiding her teeth.

Peter would call her that a million times in a row if it would elicit that reaction.

“Have a great day,” Tod interrupted, murdering the moment.

Poor girl. She cowered slightly, like a dog hearing the word ‘no.’ She took a breath and put on a smile, turning back towards her work. 

Tough girl. She didn’t need Peter to defend her. 

He glanced over at Tod with a deadpan expression, and walked out of the shop before he did or said anything else stupid.

The world was full of Tods. It was also full of monsters. Sometimes Peter was one of them. No Tod was truly worth his attention.

Except for that one time. 

A Tuesday morning in the middle of the holiday shopping season. Peter stood in line patiently, arms crossed, gritting his teeth. He glowered behind the bar at Tod, standing too close to his Honey. She gazed up at her boss helplessly, watching him turn red in the face, as the flagpole of a man waved his arms wildly. Clearly agitated, he kept his volume low but his body language screamed at her. 

“What I need your help with is this,” Tod hissed as he towered over her. “I need you to tell me what is the best method for getting information into your head. How can I communicate with you in a way that you’ll understand?” His voice was soft although he flailed like a wavy-arm inflatable man in a car lot. 

“Tell me honestly,” he sneered, dressing her down in front of a line of customers. At this point, Peter didn’t need any superpowers to be able to hear the conversation. She visibly fought the urge to cry. “Do I need to write it down? Do I need to scream at you? Do I need to throw something? Do I need to take you aside and have an hour-long conversation?” She kept her eyes on the ground as he kept pelting her with icicles. “Tell me your preference here. What is it that you’ll respond to?”

The scene came to an abrupt end when the glass of the shop window shattered. The sound silenced him finally. The front door swayed limply, having been yanked off its hinges and slammed into its frame. His Honey glanced around the shop with concern. 

Peter was no longer there.

He didn’t come back that day. 

Neither did Tod.

Some sort of accident, his Honey told him the following week, although he already knew the details. She explained to him why the shop had a new manager, a well-composed woman named Leyla. By the airiness of her mood, he could tell she greatly preferred Leyla’s managerial style.

She was happy, and that made him happy. 

And that should be enough. 

He should leave. He should run. Get as far away from her as possible.

But he was intoxicated by her. Drunk on her sweetness and her Honey Lavender Lattes.

He looked at her like she was the queen of the hive. He’d let her take that crown, any anything else she could ever want, if he had the chance. He’d worship her. He already looked at her like she was a goddess. The devotion in his honey-tinted eyes was clear to anyone who bothered to look.

“Peter Parker!”

Hearing his real name while he stood grinning like a fool in front of his Honey one afternoon made him flinch, sending a shiver up his spine. He turned around, yanked from his reverie, watching three men stroll into the shop. 

He positioned his body in front of her, obscuring her from their view. His hands were tight balls at his sides.

Peter was familiar with two of the faces, but razor-sharp focused on the mountain in a suit they called Filch. He’d seen that greasy face more times than he’d want to admit, shrouded in darkness and cigar smoke. Seated at the hand of Wilson Fisk.

His jaw locked in place.

Filch looked overjoyed to see him. Like they were old friends. Like Peter didn’t know that Wilson Fisk was plotting to move against him. 

“I thought that was you!” he brightly exclaimed. He strolled through the shop, like a cheetah stalking prey. Removing a hat and revealing what little hair he had left underneath. “Long way from Queens. Fancy finding ya all the way out here, eh?”

Peter knew better. The only surprise in this situation was intended for Peter. He’d been followed here. Watched.

His spine went rigid, shoulders into stone. 

Don’t look at the thing you don’t want to be taken away.

He could hear her heart flutter faster behind him. As if she could sense the way he bristled when they arrived. Trouble in her kingdom. A disturbance to the delicate sanctuary she had built, like all of her totems and protection spells were wearing out.

Peter kept his back to her. He kept his eyes trained on the three men, who spread out in a familiar pattern. They were scoping the place. Checking for cameras, other patrons, and all possible exits. 

Don’t look at the thing you want—

“Hey, Sugar, it’s cold outside,” Filch called out, with all the grace of flagging down a hooker. “Whaddya got to warm us up?”

Peter stared straight ahead. Glaring. Fuming.

“Might I suggest the coffee?” his Honey answered. “Just made a fresh pot of the dark roast. It’s good.”

He might have cracked a smile if he wasn’t busy envisioning a scenario where he’d have to kill the three men in the room with just the tools available in a coffee shop.

“Pour me a cuppa that,” Filch replied, his eyes never leaving Peter’s.

Peter only slightly relaxed when he felt her presence back away behind the bar. She grabbed a paper cup and filled it with steaming-hot tar. She set the cup down on the counter and backed away, minding her workstation. “That’ll be $2.50.”

Good girl, Peter thought. He saw Filch go for his breast pocket. 

“I gotcha,” Peter cut in before Filch could move closer. He grabbed the cup and handed it over to his rival’s lapdog. “‘S’on me.”

Filch eyed Peter cautiously, reaching out where both hands could be visible. He took the cup with exaggerated gratitude. “No, I couldn’t possibly—”

“I said I gotcha,” Peter firmly cut him off, the cords in his neck going tight. Peter retrieved a few bills from his coat pocket, never breaking eye contact with his opponents. “We good here?” 

Too many seconds passed with no response. He could feel the twitch of his pulse in his throat. Filch’s eyes drifted back behind the counter. He was too close to her. He studied her in a way that was far too intimate. It made Peter’s skin crawl.

“We’re good,” Filch replied. A smile curved his lips. He held the cup up, toasting him. “Have a great day.” 

Peter swallowed hard as the three men sauntered out. He watched them go, his stomach sinking, bile rising. 

They’d been watching him alright. Who knows how long. He’d been a patron of this shop and he would order from this girl and stare at her with doe-eyes and hearts swirling around his head, out in the open where anyone could see. And they did see. He showed his hand and now the game was over.

“Who’s Peter?” he heard her voice softly ask. 

The illusion was shattered. He turned his head, but couldn’t bear to look at her. He felt sick. Empty. Furious. Petrified.

The monsters were gone now. But they’d be back.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say, as he walked out of the door.

They’d be back. He’d be there first.

She watched her favorite customer disappear into the night, her eyes wide with longing as she followed him. He disappeared in a few blinks of her eyes.

Something unsettling crawled beneath her skin. Maybe it was longing, but she was familiar with longing. This was new.

Her hands were shaking and she wasn’t sure how that happened either. One minute she was staring into his dreamy, honey-hued eyes, then the next he was running in the other direction. Not unlike their first meeting, a scene which she replayed over and over again in her head, trying to figure out what made him go so rigid.

Who’s Peter?

Peter Parker.

Peter Parker.

She repeated his name in her mind, reciting it like a mantra. She wasn’t great with names, but he told her his name was Ben on that first morning so many months ago, and she made a point to remember his name, and to say his name, because people liked it when you said their name, it made them feel closer to you and she wanted more than anything to be close to him.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her wheels were spinning again. She used her thumb to push down hard on the center of her opposite palm. The dull pain grounded her back to reality. 

When she opened her eyes, she half expected him to be there. He always seemed to show up when she least expected it. He was a bright spot in her day, despite his gloomy demeanor. He could be dark as a raincloud, but she loved dancing in the rain. 

Or as her co-worker Nasrin teased her one day, he was her “tall, dark, hot cup of coffee.” She hid her face in her hands as Nasrin got to the “sucking him down with a straw” part of the analogy. She was incredibly grateful that he had been standing by the door, and there’s no way he could’ve heard that.

Now she had a first name and a last name and a... another name? And a place — you’re a long way away from Queens. A quick Google search of the names in question pulled up too many generic results. There was a dated article about a Ben Parker who was killed in an armed robbery, but her tall, dark friend couldn’t have had anything to do with that.

It twisted her stomach when she considered the fact that she really didn’t know him. She didn’t know who those guys were, and by the looks of things, she didn’t want to know. She should just drop it.

She did the best she could to keep busy, but there weren’t any more customers after that. She sent a quick text to her new manager that she wasn’t feeling well, and closed the shop early. She took the subway home. 

Once she got on the train, she didn’t make it back to the platform. It was late, but the subway car was still unusually empty, save for a couple of randos sitting at the opposite end of her car. Any other night, the near-solitude would’ve been a blessing. Tonight, something felt off.

Twenty minutes into her ride, just as the train was about to cross the river, it jerkily slowed to a stop. Her cessation of movement stirred her. Her head popped up from the glow of her phone screen curiously. She worried her lower lip as she glanced at the doors and windows, as if she could somehow see whatever it was that was stopping the train. 

She jolted as she felt a hand clamp down on her upper arm. Startled, she looked up at the two other occupants of the train car, now standing inches behind her. Two men that had been seated quietly, also seemingly distracted by their phones. 

“Come on, sweetie pie,” one of them said, towering over her. “It’s time to go.” She didn’t recognize either of them, but her instincts reminded her of the altercation in the coffee shop. These two had the same ‘goonlike’ look.

She tried wrenching her arm away, but the stranger held tight. “Get off,” she hissed. His partner on the left took her other arm, albeit more gently.

“Hey, take it easy,” the other man admonished. “No need to be rude.”

“Yeah, we’re friends,” the first man added, with a greasy smile. Her eyes darted around frantically. Panic set in as she realized she was alone in the subway car. The doors slid open, but there was no platform. Instead, the doors opened to building rooftops. The train had stopped on an elevated track above the street.

“Let’s go,” the gruffer man beckoned, grabbing her arm more tightly. He dragged her through the doorway, on a dark walkway next to the tracks. As soon as he lifted her, she erupted into a fit of screams. She kicked her legs, shrieking for help, but no reply came. She didn’t know if no one could hear her, or if people knew better not to respond.

“Keep it down,” one of the goons ordered coldly, dragging her along. She desperately resisted, letting her legs drop out beneath her. 

She heard a hiss and pop as the subway train sprang back to life behind them. She watched helplessly as it pulled away. 

“A wild one, aren’cha?” the red-haired roughneck tutted, yanking her back up to her feet. “Be a good girl or I’ll throw ya over my shoulder.”

She tried jerking away again, but halted as she faced the edge of the walkway. The dizzying height stunned her into submission. Her knees began to lock up, trembling with fear. 

“Take it easy, Katz,” the man’s partner chided him, albeit insincerely. The two of them practically carried her down the walkway. “You’re scarin’ her.” 

They arrived at an old set of metal stairs leading to the street below. The sharp, steep grade of the steps made her vertigo even worse. 

“No, help! Somebody help!” she hollered, wrapping her fingers in a death grip around the banisters and anything else she could reach. 

“Keep your mouth shut!” the red-head called Katz snapped at her. He reached around and tried to put his beefy hand on her mouth, but she bit down on his flesh the second his fingers reached her lips.

“Ow!” he roared. “Bitch!”

She saw him rear back his fist. Then she saw nothing.

When she came to, her whole body ached. Every muscle throbbing, like she’d been twisted into a pretzel. Her eyelashes fluttered open. Flickering flourescents stung her eyes. Bleary, she gazed around in a dreamlike state until her senses slowly started to awaken. 

She tasted glue. And blood. Took heavy humid breaths through her nose. She was on her side, on a concrete floor in a garage she didn’t recognize. The smell of motor oil and cleaning solution stabbed her nostrils. She gazed up at the shadowy, filthy undercarriage of a Rolls Royce lifted high up above her. Loud bangs jarred her out of slumber further. She faintly wondered who would be jackhammering—

Loud pops. Gunfire.

Her body went rigid, then sprung to life in terror. Attempting to open her mouth to scream, she realized that it was taped shut. Even slight movements of her jaw stung her flesh. She tried to sit up. Her arms tingled, like her limbs had fallen asleep. When she tried to move them she felt a sharp sting on her wrists. 

Alarm started to take hold. She couldn’t move her arms or legs. She glanced down and passed her dirty, blood-stained shirt to the duct tape wrapping her ankles. It might as well have been iron. Her wrists were also firmly bound behind her. Trying to pull them on them felt like ripping off her own skin. She whimpered excruciatingly.

The sounds were getting closer. She glanced around, eyes begging for help. Searching frantically for any reprieve amidst the scattered car parts and junk. 

The gunfire was getting closer.

She scooted, inching her way across the floor until she reached a work table. She was lining her spine up against the table leg when the garage door rattled open. She was out of time. A spill of light from outside lamps flooded in, blinding her. She could only vaguely recognized her own shrieks behind the wall of duct tape.

A group of people stood at the garage doors with their backs to the light. She watched their imposing silhouettes with horror.

A tall, male form approached her, his long black coat trailing behind him. Tears that she couldn’t contain sprang from her eyes. She was trapped, terrified, like a rabbit staring down a wolf. All she could focus on was the gun in the man’s hands as he stalked toward her. She squeezed her eyes closed, waiting to hear a final shot that would end her life.

“Easy, easy,” a familiar, deep, and soothing voice rolled over her. “Shh, don’t be scared, Honey.”

Her breath hitched. Eyes popped open.

Crouched down to her eye level was her tall, dark, and bitter friend. Ben—Peter—whatever his name was— the moment she recognized his soft chocolate eyes and the scattering of a peppery beard on his otherwise boyish face, she felt a wave of relief. 

His leather glove still held firmly onto a pistol. The sight of it dropped her back to reality. Like a bucket of ice water being poured over her body. She shuddered as he scooted closer.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” he placated with a calm voice. “You’re okay.”

She wanted to believe him. He set his gun down on the concrete floor and reached for her with both hands. Another sound of a distant gunshot made her jolt. She recoiled away from his touch, shrinking herself up against the table leg. 

He flinched at her reaction with a pained expression, as if she’d stabbed him. His hands faltered for a moment.

A man’s voice rang out from the group lingering behind, a youthful tone from someone barely older than a teenager. “Boss, we gotta go!” 

A deeper voice called out in response, “C’mon, Pete. The calvary’s on the way. Get her on her feet! ”

Her eyes widened, tears streaming down her face. He stared back at her, his expression turning grim. She gazed up at her savior to realize that this was no true rescue. 

A sickly feeling crept over her as she put the pieces together. Whatever this was, whatever was happening, whatever had happened to her—it was because of Peter. 

Her tall, dark, and dangerous stranger. He grabbed her by the hips, scooting her closer. She wailed as he scooped her body up in her arms, dizzy with how fast and effortless it seemed. He carried her like a toddler having a tantrum, except she was restrained already. 

Peter said nothing as he carried her out of the garage, barely looking at her, as he marched towards an idling, blacked-out SUV. She barely had time to spot the driver, a gorgeous woman with long silver hair. 

She smirked at her, eyes sinister.

When the SUV finally came to a halt, all she knew is that they were in an underground parking garage. Her limbs felt heavy, the assault of adrenaline starting to take its toll. Few words were spoken during the car ride, and none to her. Thick tension filled the air.

She was on the floorboard, her cheek pressed up against the carpet. She gazed at the feet of two men seated in the back. One of them was the fresh-faced teenager she heard calling Peter ‘Boss.’ His name was Miles, she had heard. The other was a rugged, haunted-looking man, with large dark eyes fixed on the windows, ever watchful. Miles called him Miguel, before the older man shot him a look to stay quiet.

“That’s the unifying issue with the men in this car,” the woman driving the SUV snarked. “You all talk too much.”

Her heart hammered at the glint of a knife. Miguel opened a switchblade, grabbing her ankles. 

“Whoa, hang on,” Miles talked to her—the first one to do so. “He’s gonna cut the tape, just so you can move your legs, okay?”

She gazed up at his soft dark eyes, her own still welling with tears. She felt the release on her legs give way as she kicked the rest of the tape off.

“Lights out,” a cold, distant voice ordered. The sound came from the front passenger seat, where Peter sat in tense silence.

Both Miles and Miguel seemed to hesitate, glancing at each other.

“You sure?” Miles questioned.

“He didn’t stutter,” the silver-haired woman replied, definitively. There was a bite in her voice, but it carried with it a tiredness filled with frustration. She sounded more like an older sister jabbing a younger sibling.

The woman popped open her door to get out. “Let’s go, boys. We got groceries inside.” 

The world went black again. A dark hood was thrown over her head, obscuring her view. 

Continue to Part 2

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[karolamurdock]

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝟐𝟎𝟗𝟗 Pt. 1

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!Reader

Sinopsis: The year is 2106. By day, you work as the head of the Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology division at Alchemax. By night, you are the one and only Spider-Woman, fighting tirelessly to protect New York from the tyrannical clutches of crime and delinquency. Your days are spent in an ordinary, organized routine: it's just you, the only barrier between your city and oblivion, dealing with the violence and pain that comes with being a superhero.

Everything is just normal. Then your dead husband appears in front of you, talking about alternate universes, spider societies and canonical disasters, and you discover that all your sorrows, losses and failures were possibly always meant to happen.

What the fuck.

Notes: You can keep track of this little fic on our Ao3 page. In our profile you can also find the Spanish version.

Warnings: Angst, violence, sad reader.

Word count: 2K.

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4

Dusk painted the city red. The last rays of evening flashed against the lenses of your mask as you gazed, crouched on the edge of the Chrysler Building, at the bustling streets of the City That Never Sleeps. 

The afternoon had been running smoothly, as usual. Minor crimes, a couple of robberys, a botched assault and a small fire that was quickly put out. For the city, it was just another, ordinary afternoon.

Not for you. For you, it was a day of regret. Because that day was the seventh anniversary of the day you became the one and only Spider-Woman.

That day was the seventh anniversary of your husband's death. 

🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷

Your name is (T/N). You were the victim of an 'accident' that caused an alteration of your genetic code. The machine caused your DNA to mutate, fusing 50% with the DNA of a spider. 

As a result of the incident, you acquired superhuman strength; speed and flexibility far beyond the physical limits of the most gifted human athlete. You had an extraordinary durability, very acute reflexes, ultra-sharp vision and an accelerated healing factor. 

You were also 'gifted' with sharp, venomous fangs which produced a non-toxic substance that paralyzed your enemies, as well as retractable claws on your fingertips that allowed you to easily attach to any surface. 

Your eyes, once glowing (E/C) orbs, had become tinted with a reddish hue that you covered with dark glasses (which served the dual purpose of deterring curious civilians and protecting you from sensory overstimulation). 

The world knew you as a heroine. Selfless, courageous and capable. A fitting antithesis to your civilian identity. An acclaimed geneticist of few words and a fleeting smile. With few close friends, a quiet, cold, almost impersonal apartment. Your only companion was a fat, lazy cat who, like you, fended for himself and appreciated your silent company while taking long naps on your stomach. 

Your days consisted of a long shift at Alchemax, as head of the Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology division, and grueling night patrols as New York's most famous Spider.

You didn't sleep very much. After your long days (with and without the suit), you would finally drop off exhausted and look forward to a short, dreamless rest. Your routine was such. The days finally blurred into one another, and you concentrated on living them one at a time. 

That day, however, something changed. 

🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷

A commotion was heard in the distance. You watched the smoke column rising near the 5th Avenue, and you quickly changed the direction of your swing to deal with the emerging threat.

You gazed at the strange creature as you glided on the air currents with the aid of the anti-gravity particles emitted by your suit of unstable molecules. Holding on to a streetlight as you analyzed the individual before you, you frowned at his anomalous appearance; the elongated mask, the green suit and the archaic glider. His maniacal laughter filled the street, and the fire reflected in his orange glasses as he turned his head in your direction. 

The smile carved into his mask would have caused you to shudder with revulsion had it not been for your sour mood. You were already late to leave the arrangement of carnations on your husband's grave. You were hoping to get it over with that lunatic quickly so you could spend the rest of your night in your bed, marinating in your loneliness. 

"Well, well. What do we have here? You're not the spider I'm used to playing with."

"I'm the spider that will put an end to your fun". You replied. "What do you want?"

The creature laughed, and... flickered? Like a failing hologram, his own form superimposed upon itself in a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes that took a second to return to its place. 

You frowned, suddenly feeling more alert, and braced yourself when the creature threw two orange spheres in your direction as it laughed:

"Never mind! After all... This will be another world to conquer."

Catching the spheres with your webs, you threw them into the sky, accurately predicting the great explosion that lit up the night sky, away from the terrified crowd running away from the scene. 

You dodged the projectiles hurled in your direction, and somersaulted through the air as the individual lunged at you, clawed hands outstretched in your direction. 

You aimed your webs again; the gleaming golden ribbons wrapped around your wrists, and used a manhole cover to spin around and propel yourself into the air, crashing the hard metal into the glider and ducking behind a smoking van across the street. 

The creature jumped, and his ruined glider crashed into a streetlight, causing an explosion of sparks to rain down around you. 

"You may not be my spider. But you're just as sneaky. Come here!"

And he leapt forward, lashing out with his claws aimed at your throat. You deflected the blow, but he was quick and turned around to throw a punch that landed on above your eyebrow. Your vision blurred, and you blinked in surprise as you had to take a couple of steps back from the shock. This creature... it seemed to have an idea of your range of motion, as well as a brief notion of the range of your reflexes. 

Not the spider you're used to playing with.... 

Before you could give the idea any more thought, you caught a movement out of the corner of your eye, and you reflexively spun around with a kick that hit the creature squarely in the chest, throwing him back a few feet and drawing a pained laugh from him. 

"You're strong... just like him." The creature coughed. "You're fast... just like him." He took a couple of slow steps around you, and scanned you up and down. Your dark suit, your upright posture, and the evident claws in your hands. "You even look like him... but you're not Peter Parker, are you?"

You hid a shudder by crouching against the ground in a battle stance. This creature... 

You had no time to ramble. He came at you once more, and you used your webs to leap away from his thrusts. You jumped over a streetlight, and watched him rip the door off a pickup truck to throw it in your direction. You kicked it out of the way, a second too late to notice the small orange orb stuck to the side of the door. 

His mocking laughter was lost in the roar of the explosion. Your body was hurled toward the concrete, and you barely had time to cover your head before you hit the ground, hard. 

Your ears were ringing, and you tasted blood where your fangs scratched the inside of your lips. You remained motionless, listening to the crunch of his footsteps approaching to your collapsed form. You counted the seconds, watching the creature's fluctuating reflection against the cracked windows around you. 

In other circumstances, against any other opponent, you would have jumped up at once and taken the battle elsewhere, away from the street. But in this situation, you didn't want to give the anomalous creature a chance to escape, or else... to see more of your world. You didn't like the way his mask swiveled, taking note of the towering buildings and iridescent lights. The lenses of his mask paused an extra second on the giant letters above the OSCORP tower, and you heard his curious humming just as his hand reached out to grab you by the neck. 

You finally moved, and twisted his arm, breaking the archaic armor with your claws as you summoned your superhuman strength to smash your other elbow into his mask. 

The impact shook his head, and you briefly glimpsed a small glowing eye through a broken lens before feeling the air against your chin as your suit retracted to allow you to plunge your venom into the creature's exposed forearm. 

You watched his breathing quicken. Finally, you released him, and you exchanged a couple of blows that rapidly decreased in intensity and force. When he stopped flailing, and you finally beheld his stiff muscles and slumped figure, you threw him against a parked vehicle, mentally apologizing to the poor owner, and wrapped several webs around it, forming a golden cocoon that covered him almost completely.

You watched his perpetually smiling expression, and lifted your arm to wipe your lips, ready to shred the rest of the mask and find out the identity of that you were taking to the authorities that night. You could already hear the sirens in the distance. 

And then you heard the clattering of stones all around you. 

Debris and stones rose a foot in the air. You watched in morbid bewilderment at the flickering lights, the creature, slack against the hood of the vehicle, and you briefly averted your gaze only to behold a blue hand tearing the air, the fabric of reality stretching into a luminous hexagon, edged in orange, pink, and yellow colors. A blue silhouette appeared from the center of the hexagon, and you watched in horror as a person sprang into existence right under your nose. 

Your mask quickly returned to its place. You fell into a defensive position. With one hand against the pavement and another poised in the air. The man, whom you now recognized as such, wore a piercing blue suit with red lines that seemed to converge in a spider design... a design eerily similar to yours. Even his mask, with lenses edged with sharp red lines, resembled your own dark mask. 

"Thank you for your support. We'll take it from here." He said, and motioned to the creature as he ordered, "Ben."

Distantly, through the sumptuous flow of blood you felt ringing in your ears, you became aware of the arrival of another hooded figure, wearing a red suit, blue vest, and a mask that matched the popular spider theme. 

For the first time in almost 6 years, you had difficulty articulating your words. Your tongue felt heavy, your fangs were once again too big for your mouth, and you dug your claws into the concrete to keep yourself upright in the face of the flood of anguish that completely overtook you.

His voice... 

"I don't think so." You took a step in the direction of the Spider... Man, the one with the blue vest. "Who are you, and what do you have to do with that creature?"

"It's classified." Replied the tall, broad-shouldered man in the blue suit. At his response, you held your ground in front of the creature, though you watched... Ben? Analyzing the individual slumped over the car. 

"He's alive. He's not unconscious, he's..."

"Paralyzed." Said the man and you at the same time. And Ben jumped on his toes with his hands covering both sides of his mouth. 

"Could you be...?" He started. But the mistery man wouldn't let him continue.

"That's the Green Goblin over there. In his world, he's Norman Osborn, previous CEO and ex-president of OSCORP. He became the Green Goblin after experimenting with a serum that drove him insane." 

You frowned, but grudgingly allowed Ben to restrain the newly named Green Goblin as you took a close look at the burly man in front of you. 

His broad back. His big arms, his lean waist. 

His firm pose. His beautiful voice. 

"We are Spider people. Just like you. Our job is to deal with anomalies like him, who threaten other worlds by slipping through the cracks between realities. The fate of the multiverse depends on it. "

You had difficulty wrapping your mind around the idea, but you didn't let your hesitation show in your posture.

"If you come with us, we can show you. You did a good job containing this anomaly. We could make good use of your support." 

"Who are you?"

His mask retracted. An invisible hand wrapped around your throat, and you felt the ghost of your own venom paralyzing your body; perhaps finally your DNA had destabilized, and you were suffering a biological rupture. It had to be a manifestation of your delirium: his dark curls, his high cheekbones, his strong jaw. 

"My name is Miguel O'Hara, and I am the leader of the Spider society."

You closed your eyes. 

He held out his hand, looked at you, and you thought you saw his eyes softening a little.

Then you dug your claws into his throat.

[mjmikaelson]

POLIN MODERN AU — SPIDERMAN🕷️

— Colin Parker and Penelope Watson

[mittos]

I’ve been reminded of male MJ and now I’m so normal about him