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gummydummy19 · 9 months

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A White Christmas

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Male Reader

Summary: You and your boyfriend Steve have the tower to yourself this Christmas :))

Content Warnings: Smut (handjob, use of toys, cum eating, anal, top M reader, bottom Steve Rogers, slight degradation, daddy kink...), fluff, horrible Christmas puns :))

A/N: @sozombiearcade thank you so much for this lovely Christmas request and for being so patient with me <3, I hope you enjoy it. Merry Christmas everyone!!xxx

Word Count: 1860+

The streets of New York were packed. People desperately scattered around trying to find a last-minute Christmas present. It was absolutely freezing, or at least that's what it looked like. You were nice and warm up in Stark Tower, with a book on your lap.

You smiled to yourself as you glanced over to the big, beautiful Christmas tree, the neatly wrapped present you bought your boyfriend immediately catching your eye.

The Tower is quiet, aside from your Christmas playlist you have on repeat. Thor and Loki went back to Asgard, Nat and Bruce went over to Clint and his family during the Holidays, Sam invited Bucky to join him and his sister for Christmas dinner and Tony took Pepper skiing in Aspen. Leaving you and your boyfriend Steve alone in the Tower, which you had decorated excessively.

The smell of gingerbread slowly invades your senses and you hear Steve hum along with "Jingle Bells" from the kitchen. Sadly, his happy humming stops and gets replaced by an upset whine and a naughty word or two.

'Language!', you yell with a grin, but when you don't hear a reply, you decide to put your book aside and make your way to the kitchen.

'Stevie, everything okay?' you ask as you stick your head through the doorframe. Steve is looking down at his tray of freshly baked cookies with a defeated look.

"What's wrong, honey? They look great!" you ask as you walk closer.

"I forgot to buy icing." The look on his face breaks your heart, but admittedly the little pout on his face is quite adorable. Truth be told, he has been looking insanely good all day.

Steve is not only an attractive man, he also cares a lot about hygiene. Back in the 40s he didn't have all the luxuries he has today, and when he goes on missions he sometimes can't shower or shave for weeks. So when he's home, he showers and shaves every single morning after his run. He hates body hair, so he was always perfectly sleek...everywhere.

"Oh Stevie, that's okay...they still look good without the icing," you reassure him, looking down at the gingerbread men.

"They look naked." he points out with a frown on his face.

You grin, pulling Steve closer and pressing a sweet kiss on his neck. "I do love my men naked..." you mumble as you nibble on his ear, hoping to cheer him up a little.

Unfortunately, the defeated look on Steve's face didn't go away that easily. "Aw, Stevie..." you cooed, wrapping your arms around him, "you know I hate to see you sad," your lips found his neck again while your arms squeezed him tighter to your chest.

Steve's breath hitched when you found his sweet spot, nibbling on it while your hands gently grabbed his hips, pulling his ass flush against your hardening cock. His hands grabbed the counter for balance as he whined, feeling your bulge grind against his ass.

"I'm sure we can figure something out...let me turn that frown upside down, baby, hmm?"

"Yes, daddy", Steve moaned obediently.

"Wanna touch daddy's cock? Hmm? Would that make you happy? Wanna jerk me off, baby?", you teased.

"Yes, daddy..." he whined.

"Ask daddy nicely, baby,"

"Please, daddy, please," he bucked his hips forward.

"Please, what?" you taunted.

"Please can I touch you, daddy, can I jerk you off, please..." he begged.

"Good boy...of course baby, c'mere," you packed up a little, allowing Steve to turn around. He immediately dropped to his knees and pulled down your sweats, noticing that you were already rock-hard.

"What a slutty boy..." you groaned, spitting in your hand before reaching down to stroke your hard cock.

You groaned at the feeling, letting your eyes fall shut for a second until you heard Steve whine impatiently.

You looked down at him, "Touch daddy's cock, Stevie", you commanded and he immediately did as he was told, squeezing your dick tightly as he stroked it up and down before twisting his first over your tip.

As you felt yourself creep closer to the edge, the tray of cookies caught your eye. You reached over, pulling it closer while Steve sped up his movements around your throbbing cock.

"That's it, baby...be a good boy and make daddy cum."

It only took a couple more strokes until you fell over the edge with a loud groan. Your body shook a little as you tried your best to aim for the platter, covering the gingerbread men with your sticky, white cum.

"Fuck, Steve...", you couldn't help but groan, "good fucking boy..."

You pulled him up against you, fumbling to pull your sweatpants up in the meantime. You let him drop his head on your shoulder as you did the same. Your mouth found the pulse point on his neck, feeling his rapid heartbeat against your lips.

You looked at the counter, observing the wonderful mess you had made. "Look at that, Stevie...your gingerbread men aren't so naked anymore", you grinned, picking up one of the cookies that was covered in cum and bringing it to his mouth. He took a large bite, savoring your familiar taste.

"Delicious...", he hummed, looking at you in adoration. You couldn't help but pull him in for a passionate kiss, tasting the sweetness of his cookies and the saltiness of your...icing.

"I think you deserve to open one of your Christmas presents early, what do you think?"

"Yeah?", he blushed and you nodded, taking his hand and pulling him to the living room.

"Say, Stevie, have you been naughty or nice this year?" you smirked and you pushed your boyfriend back on the couch.

"Is that a trick question?" he grinned, making you smile.

"Hmm," you couldn't help but kiss him again before getting up and grabbing a neatly wrapped box from under the tree.

"Naughty and/or nice, you've definitely been my good boy this year", you praised.

Steve gently ripped open the packaging, his cheeks tinting red again as he saw what you had gifted him. It was a navy blue, vibrating stroker.

"Do you like it?", you asked, grinning when Steve nodded franticly.

"Wanna try it?", you asked, trying to contain the twinkle in your eyes.

He nodded again, this time a bit more shy.

"You want uh...do you wanna...or...you want me to...uhm...", he stuttered, making you chuckle before leaning in closer.

"I wanna use it on you, Stevie, if that's okay?"

"Y-yeah, yes, absolutely."

His enthusiasm alone made your cock stir again.

"That's my good boy," you mumbled against his lips, "take off your pants and play with yourself while I go get the lube,"

Steve's pants hit the floor before you even made it out of the living room. When you got back, merely a couple seconds later, you found him panting on the couch with his cock in his hand.

"Merry Christmas indeed," you stated, dropping down next to him. Your hand quickly took over from his, pumping him a couple times until he was a moaning mess.

"Turn around", you commanded and he obeyed immediately, giving you a clear view of his shaven asshole.

"Fuck, you know, I hate it when they call this America's ass. This is my ass, all mine," you grumbled, giving his cheek a good squeeze followed by a light smack.

"Ah...yes, daddy, all yours, please touch me, daddy", he pleaded.

"Yeah? Want me to touch you? Want daddy to fill your stocking, hm?"

Steve couldn't help but giggle a little at your awful pun, earning him another spank.

"Shut up," you chuckled, before reaching to grab the lube and applying a good amount on his bare hole and your fingers.

Steve moaned loudly as you slid a finger inside, prepping him for your hardening cock. You slowly worked him open, adding another finger while your other hand gently traced his skin.

"Ready for my cock, Stevie?" you questioned after a couple minutes, noticing he was getting harder and more desperate.

"Yes, please...please"

You used some more lube to cover your cock, stroking it a few times before pressing it to Steve's hole. Slowly but steadily you slid inside him. Both of you let out a string of whines and groans, your hands holding onto his hips as you fucked him slowly from behind.

You gave him some time to adjust before you grabbed the toy, adding a little bit of lube to that as well.

"C'mere, Stevie, lean up a bit...like this", you gently grabbed his shoulder, making him lean his back against your chest so you had easier access to his smoothly-shaven cock. The toy slid over him with ease.

"Oh shit, daddy!" he moaned when you turned up the vibrations, stroking the toy while starting to fuck into him again.

"Fuck, baby, doing so good, my good boy", you praised as you picked up the pace, positively destroying his asshole.

Your free hand roamed over his strong, hairless chest, pinching his nipple in the process.

"Ah, f-fuck..." he stuttered, his head lulling back against your shoulder.

you chuckled, "You like it when I play with your nipples, hmm? Such a desperate little slut...look at you, I've only just started and your cock is already leaking", you taunted, feeling the sticky drops land on your fingers.

"Please, daddy...fuck, that feels so good..."

That was your cue to turn up the vibrations, making Steve keen in pleasure. His hands for your arms, trying to keep himself grounded.

You angled your hips up a little, hitting his spot perfectly.

"Fuuucckk, daddy, right there! Please please please can I cum? Can I cum please m'so close...", he begged, tears welling in his eyes.

"Cum for me you fucking slut, cum for me while I fuck your ass."

And he did. Hard.

Steve's cum shot out of his dick in thick ropes, covering his own stomach and chest.

You fucked him roughly through his high, before discarding the toy and pulling out of him.

"Turn around!" you roared, as you jerked yourself off at a fast pace, ready to tumble over the edge.

Steve clumsily dropped to his knees, just in time to catch the hot spurts of cum all over his face.

You yelled out his name, screwing your eyes shut as pleasure consumed you.

"Fucking hell..." you huffed out. Your eyes fluttered open and you were met with an absolutely ruined Steve, leaning exhausted against the couch, covered in both your and his own cum.

You dropped down beside him, pulling him close. "You did so good for me, you're so hot, so perfect...", you mumbled, trying to bring him back down to earth with sweet words and gentle kisses.

"You okay?", you asked, taking in his fucked out look.

"Hmm", was all he could muster, looking at you with a dopey grin plastered all over his face.

"Looks like you got a white Christmas this year, huh?", you grinned.

"Oh, shut up", he chuckled, playfully hitting your shoulder.

The two of you cuddled for a while after that, before taking a nice hot shower together. Though in hindsight, that might have been a bit pointless, since Steve still had to give you his gift too....

Taglist;

@metalbuckaroo @princessayveke @montsepliego @scxrletrecsmarvel @hopelesslyrogers @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @tfandtws @vicmc624 @ahahafudge @enchantedbarnes @wickedravyn @pono-pura-vida @amayaraestyles @matchat3a @fictional-hooman @sebastianexplicit @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @jamneuromain @tryingtoliveonmywishes @mrsevans90 @daybreak96 @tiredqueen73 @fallingforunrealisticromance @identity2212 @randomweirdoss @ragamuffin285 @juliaorpll78 @geralts-yenn @imjusthereforliam @bangtanstoeart @squeezyvalkyrie @enchantedbytomandhenry @superduckmilkshake @kingliam2019 @bascmve01 @missgaygurl @foxyjwls007 @mollymal @urmomsgirlfriend1 @luxeydior

#steve rogers x male reader #steve rogers smut #captain america smut #captain america #steve rogers #smut #fluff #Christmas

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solomon-revisited · 3 months

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my copy has finally arrived... sixteen old songs from my earnest friends

THE CORONER'S GAMBIT LINER NOTES

TRANSCRIPT:

HE was a guy from California who'd fallen in love with a woman from Iowa. She was working at a water testing lab. They lived in a very small house whose pipes froze every winter. The landlord would come by and put space heaters under the sink. Years later, they retained the memory of the water coming back on - the sudden sound of the shower, the rush from the sink. They slept on a foam mattress in the bedroom in the summer, and on the couch in the living room in the winter, since the house did not have central heating, rendering the bedroom essentially uninhabitable from December through March.

They were not really the kind of people to plan things: they had fun when and where they could on an austere budget. The ice skates they bought used from Play It Again Sports made for fun Christmas mornings on West Indian Creek in Nevada, one town over from where they lived. He learned to cook, and to bake: they didn't go out to eat, because there really wasn't any place to go out and eat, though on occasion they would get a pizza from Casey's, because their town had a Casey's. Under the right circumstances a gas station pizza can be just the thing, and they sometimes found themselves in those circumstances.

He made music which was slowly reaching a wider audience. If he played in New York or Chicago as many as a hundred people might show up. He was idly entertaining the idea of becoming ambitious about it: as a child, he'd been pretty pretentious, and although he was working hard to shake most of that off, a little pretension isn't a bad thing in an artist. Just as a seasoning, as a little extra flavor here or there.

One summer he took a job as a harvest help at the Farmers Cooperative Exchange down the street from the very small house where the pipes froze in winter: getting the corn and soybeans into the grain elevator and into a big Morton building where the beans formed giant mountains, which he sometimes had to climb to knock down the peaks. If you don't knock down the peaks the beans get too hot and might rot. The job didn't pay much, and he wasn't good at it, but during slow stretches he would write song lyrics on scraps of paper or in a small notebook, and when he got home from work and washed off the crop dust, he'd set the lyrics to music. "Elijah" was written like this. So was "The Alphonse Mambo."

He took a Greyhound bus to Omaha to record some of the songs, so that the album would have a nice varied feel to it, but he got very sick, which is not an uncommon thing to have happen after a Greyhound ride, and only a few songs came out the way he wanted. He kept those, and then they got married and moved to Ames because the City of Colo had purchased their home from that landlord and intended to knock it down, which they did do, he affirmed years later: and in Ames he put the album together, and then later they moved to North Carolina and a whole lot of other things happened, too, but the main thing is that this album is a document of a time when two young people in love hadn't yet located the spot on the current that would carry them to their destination, twenty-five years later, parents of two beautiful children, worlds away from Colo, the place where, for better or worse, as the saying goes, all this really began.

Dedicated to my wife, Lalitree, and to the City of Colo, Iowa.

This is the original text of the paper bag that housed the first edition of this album. I am leaving it intact rather than revising it. Stage Bidet's moment comes ever closer: let the people tremble in fear.

Elijah, Baboon, Horseradish Road, Onions, and the Alphonse Mambo recorded in Omaha with Simon Joyner, Chris Deden, Lonnie Methe, Brad Smith, John Kotchen, Steve Micek, and Pat Oakes. All of them are owed money and are to be treated with deference and respect. Five of the remaining songs were recorded at Main St. in Colo, which is a small town in Iowa, and the rest were recorded two blocks north of Emma McCarthy Lee Park in Ames, which is a considerably larger town half and hour west of Colo. Though happy circumstances currently have the Mountain Goats claiming Ames, we continue to straight up represent Colo and will put the slap down on anyone who disrespects it. Transfer and levels by Bob Durkee at FBE in Pomona, California, with Joel Huschle attending. As a result of some regrettable but inevitable conversations that took place during the transfer, Bob, Joel, and the Mountain Goats have formed a new, super-powerful punk rock machine called Stage Bidet, and we urge you to watch for us and clear us a wide berth whenever we're in your town. Instead of thanking all the people I always thank to whom I say, collectively and with no less sincerity: thanks. I am just going to spend the time left us here addressing an absent friend. Rozz: I wish you hadn't've gone and killed yourself. Though I hadn't seen or spoken with you in eight years since that night when, as far as I can tell from the reports I was later able to piece together, you tried, not without reason, to strangle the life out of me out there on the landing of Damien's apartment and I probably never would have ever seen you again anyway, it was still hard to hear that you were gone. All your friends had been predicting your death since the early eighties, and no-one could bear the thought of you growing old, but none of that did anything to soften the blow when I heard. I don't really believe that the dead see or hear what we do out here in the realm of corruptible things and I don't imagine that the anyone reads the scribblings on the backs of album jackets to them, either, so I am really only addressing a memory. To that memory I say: I thought of you now and then when I was writing these songs. I don't suppose they'd do much for you, but I thought of you all the same. All your friends miss you in some way, a little or a lot. The rumors about your final hours are dismal and tawdry: I am sure they would please you immensely. For your sake, I hope that the Christians were wrong and that you were right about whether the faithless are destined for eternal torment. In the event that you are a ghost and are wandering the earth moaning and rattling chains, I moved to Iowa from California four or five years ago, stop by any time. Have a seat on the couch until I get home from work. Help yourself to anything in the refrigerator, or to the whiskey and sake on top of it. Make yourself right at home.

Album cover design by Tom Hart

#described #transcribed #tmg #the mountain goats #someone has probably already made this post. but i found it therapeutic to write out.

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k-tarotz · 10 months

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Pick a Pile | Where will your F/s take you on a winter date?

Since it's already December we thought of making our first winter/Christmas pac! You can of course participate in this even if you dont celebrate Christmas, if you want to if course. Choose one or multiple piles that you are drawn to and read about it! Please like, reblog and comment as its highly appreciated, thank you! <3 disclaimer; this is a general reading! these messages may not fit everyone. please take what resonates and leave the rest. Dividers & pictures aren't from us, credits to the right owners!

Kpop readings | updated personal readings | masterlist

Pile 1:

This one is giving the most "home" vibes and

therefore; your date would invite you to their house. They would decorate their house all festively with the most beautiful Christmas decorations they can find, even put up the Christmas tree. Then they would dim the lights, only let the Christmas leds of the Christmas tree on along with other decorations that have the ability to give light. They would make their bed super comfy with blankets, pillows, cute plushies and prepare hot chocolate and cookies. They would snuggle with you on said bed while laying/sitting comfortably with you there. Their arm nicely around you and what else would you be doing than..... watching Christmas movies together?! Watching all of your favorite Christmas movies and maybe even the classic ones like Kevin home alone / alone in New York, elf, the grinch and so on! It would be an incredible cozy and romantic date which would make your connection to each other stronger.

Pile 2:

Your future spouse would take you on a date to a café! But not just some kinda boring or classic one - no, it would be one that has many Christmas decorations, even small Christmas trees on every table. There would play background music, not too loud not too quite, of course it would be mostly Christmas songs. The desserts, cookies,pastries and even the hot chocolate would have Christmas motives on it. It would all look super cute and taste amazing. They would love to spoil you, asking you to ignore the prices of it as it is the season of giving. They would possibly spend hours with you there getting lost in the conversation with you and of course walking you home after it, while snow crunches under your feet. Holding your hand to feel your warmth and also just in case so they can catch you in case you slip slightly. You would have an amazing date that you wouldn't forget. Neither of you would!

Pile 3:

As for this one I feel like your future spouse would invite you over to their house to bake cookies together, if possible multiple different ones. They would enjoy baking together with you, perhaps take a tiny bit of the flour and put it on your cheek - then let out the most sweetest laugh ever. It might turn into a small but nome serious playful fight, which would end up in them pulling you suddenly closer and kissing you. While still baking with you, most likely While the cookies are in the oven, they would suddenly turn on the song "all I want fir Christmas is you" and start dancing to it, actually trying to dance together with you to it. The whole atmosphere would be so warm and lovely, both of you focused on only each other. Of course they would eat the cookies together with you after they are done, feeding you sometimes. They would praise you on it, enjoying their time with you more than anything else in the world.

That's it! Our first Christmas/winter pac ever! Feel free to leave feedback if you want to! Stay safe and take care of yourselves lovelies <3

- Candy

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czennieszn · 8 months

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the magic of christmastime | l. castellan ❆

part 1: s(mitten) for you, luke castellan

child of aphrodite reader (Y/N) x luke castellan (fluff, a bit of angst, some anxiety)

It's Christmastime, the season of magic, miracles, and snow in the city. Celebrating their first Christmas together as a couple, Luke and Y/N are eager to participate in Christmas traditions. And what better way to get in Christmas spirit than going shopping in the Big Red Apple, the splendid New York City. There is only one problem, getting the permission of Chiron and Mr. D.

w.c. 2.5K (let me know if you would fancy a part 2!

______________________________________________________________

I love Christmastime. From the flurry of people that crowd the malls of New York City, to the actual flurries of soft white snow that encase the concrete, making the Big Apple look like a giant snow globe, it's safe to say that Christmastime sparked a little bit of magic in you. Every year after Thanksgiving, a silent countdown would begin; the countdown until Christmas. Thirty days. Twenty-nine days. Twenty-eight days. Time didn't move any slower. But during these thirty days, the Christmas traditions got you through the month.

Baking and decorating Christmas cookies, wearing matching sweaters, drinking hot cocoa, and watching Christmas movies on your old DVD player, were things that you were anticipating doing this Christmas. Except, this Christmas would be different. It would be a little bit more magical, because this Christmas, you had the golden-eyed curly-haired Hermes boy with a crooked smile to spend it with. And you were delighted.

"Luke..." you gently nudged your boyfriend, teasing him with a smile. He was lying on your bed with his hands stretched out, your monthly subscription to Vogue magazine in his hands. Even under the dimly lit florescent fairy lights, Luke looked magical. His lips were pursed in concentration, and his faint freckles were dotted across his nose. Eyebrows furrowed, he diverged his attention to you.

"Yes Y/N..." he responded in an equally teasing tone. Turning his head, you softly played with his curls as he rested in your lap. He twinkled his eyes like a newborn puppy, a look he knew was impossible to resist. You tried to endure the nonchalant disposition on your face, but the corner of your mouth gave you away. Smiling gently, you looked away and giggled. The effect this boy had on you couldn't be explained by science, it couldn't be explained by the gods. Gods, you were so in love with each other.

"What if we-" you began to say. He jokingly rolled his eyes. "I can't wait for another one of your "grand ideas" again Y/N. The last time you started with "what if we", we ended up in trouble with Mr. D and had to spend two months on stable duty," Luke laughed.

"No wait I'm serious! I promise we won't have to shovel horse shit ever again!" You said, trying not to laugh.

"That was miserable, never again," Luke mocked you.

"I'm genuinely being serious, here me out!" You playfully eyed him.

"Okay Princess, what is it?" Luke whispered as he stared at your lips.

"What if we go into the city for some Christmas shopping..." you trailed off, unsure whether he would be willing to go with you.

"Hmm," Luke closed the magazine and returned it to the magazine rack that Aphrodite gave you for your sixteenth birthday. You remember how elated when your mother met with you on your sweet sixteenth and winked at you, urging you to pursue Luke. Now here you were, two years later, with her advice fully followed through.

There was a pregnant pause as Luke played with your fingers. "I hope you don't mean Christmas shopping at the camp gift shop," he jokingly said. You shook your head quickly while you laughed, your curtain bangs swinging from side to side. "I've kind of had enough of the Stoll brothers and their practical jokes on these not-so-practical gifts." Rolling your eyes, you recalled last year when the Stoll brothers had slipped you two love potions, giving you googly eyes for Chiron and Luke groveling at Mr. D. It was a whole fiasco, leaving you and Luke thoroughly embarrassed for a minimum of two weeks.

"Noooo," you dragged on the word as you tilted your head. "I mean like, what if we went into the city to go shopping? Wouldn't that be fun," you suggested. "Do you think Chiron would let us?" You lightly breathed.

"Well, there's no way we'll know if we don't ask," Luke grinned.

"Wait so you'd be willing to go shopping with me?" you held your breath.

"Of course, anything for you Princess," Luke caressed your face. You were leaping with joy, and you practically ran out of the Aphrodite cabin to stalk Chiron for his permission.

"Let's go, let's go!" You attempted to drag Luke as he groaned. "I'm comfy here, can we wait until tomorrow to find Chiron," Luke attacked you with his puppy-like eyes. Nope, you weren't going to fall for that now, no matter how impossible it was.

"Please Luke we should go now, tomorrow morning is in twelve hours, something bad could happen and he may not let us go," you flashed him your best smile in retaliation. Playfully rolling his eyes, he tugged your hand and you fell onto the mattress. Squealing, you lay on top of him, what a goof. But you are so into this goof. Cheekily smiling, he smothered you in kisses: on your face, on your neck, on your collarbone. Peppering all surface areas of your body with love.

You were violently blushing, turning a shade of red from your cheeks down to your neck at the sudden PDA. All of a sudden, you were self-conscious of your siblings in the cabin. But, they certainly paid you two no attention as they were used to the displays of affection. Awake and animated, Luke's eyes momentarily flickered animalistically, but they quickly returned to his typical soft-golden retriever demeanor. You both knew what he wanted at that moment, but given the circumstances, ew, gross.

"Okay," he whispered, satisfied at the reaction he got out of you. "Let's go," and he tugged you up suddenly as you guys ran out the door. The run eventually turned into the light jog because (a) you guys had just finished dinner and didn't want indigestion and (b) you had already exercised enough for today (the Apollo kids had run an archery obstacle course that was grueling, leaving a dull ache in your arms and feet)

"Chiron!" Luke called out into the distance, as we saw a faint outline of the centaur's shadow. He was going into the big house, probably to put curlers in his tail before he retired to his bed for the evening (Grover's words, not mine). Before he disappeared into the shadows, he gestured to us, letting us know to enter the Big House. Panting, as you were nearly exhausted at this point (don't get me wrong, I'm not unathletic, but the distance from the Aphrodite cabin to the Big House is quite far) At this point, you were going to get appendicitis before you could step into the Big Apple.

"Luke, wait a minute," you said, running out of breath. For a powerful demigod, you certainly had limited endurance.

"Are you okay Y/N," Luke dramatically gasped as he held your hand.

"I'm perfectly okay, just a tad out of shape," you sighed.

"Well Princess, just a few more steps and then we are there," Luke softly replied. Silently nodding your head to Luke's words of encouragement, you two approached the Big House. Unconsciously, you began to peel your cuticles, and Luke gently pried your hands away from your delicate, beaten skin. You deeply appreciated when he did things like that, paying attention to every detail, focusing on you, and double-checking that you were healthy and mentally okay.

The waning crescent that brightly illuminated the night sky depicted your mood; the fading of a bright idea in an endless world. This feeling wasn't new to you, and you could feel your energy waning. All the bravado that you had previously shown to Luke had wilted. Instead, you were now left uneasy, waiting for Chiron and Dionysus to chagrin you for your dangerously silly idea. A sinking pit of anxiety settled in your stomach. Damn, for how often my anxiety just shows up, it may as well start paying rent, you thought, trying to ease the war of emotions swimming in your mind.

Are you sure that you are okay? Luke bent down his head so he could be at eye level with you.

Yes, hopefully, you silently blinked back. He understood the scope of your anxiety, and during the especially bad days when you were left hugging yourself and biting at your nails, he would hug you instead and play with your fingers. Besides being a great boyfriend, he was an even more understanding person, and you loved that part of him.

Alright, gametime, Luke winked to you, as you two crossed the boundary between fun! rainbows! camp! and imminent doom featuring half a horse and an overgrown drunk toddler. The floorboard creaked as you two entered the Big House. Mustering up the remainder of your confidence, you took a deep breath and entered a book room where Chiron and Dionysus were sitting.

"We have a proposal for-," you gestured before being rudely interrupted by Mr. D slurping his diet coke. He raised an eyebrow, challenging you to continue. You momentarily glared at him before resuming your composure.

"Like I said, Luke and I have been thinking of-," you continued before being rudely interrupted for the second time by the overgrown diet coke-addicted toddler.

"Please, Dionysus, respect for the demigods for once," Chiron rolled his eyes, partially annoyed at Mr. D for acting childish, and possibly because we had interrupted his nighttime routine. Hey, if someone asked me to do something if I was in the middle of a manicure, I would also be thoroughly annoyed.

"To state the point that was never said," you pointedly glared at Mr. D and he tilted his head back at you to say fair point, "Luke and I were thinking of going into the city for one day to do some Christmas shopping."

The room was silent. All you could hear was the crackling of the fireplace, and even then as every log burned a hiss of malice escaped the chimney's base. Then Dionysus let out a big guffaw, startling everyone in the room.

"Oh my gosh you're joking are you? You came all the way to tell us that?" Mr. D gasped for breath and wiped his tears as he was laughing too hard.

Dead silence echoed (can silence echo?) throughout the room. We were serious (for once). Mr. D could sense that no one else in the room was in a playful mood, and soon shut his mouth, a rare occasion. Under different circumstances, I would have probably pointed that out to Luke and given him a sly look, but tonight was not the night.

"Wait, you two are serious," Mr. D gestured to both of us while giving us both a pointed look of disappointment.

"Please Mr. D, we promise to be safe-" Luke began.

"For two senior counselors who have been at camp for a very long time, might I add, you two surely haven't gained any knowledge for all the time that you've been here," Mr. D frowned.

"Please, we haven't gone anywhere in years. We promise to be safe and take any precautions needed," you pleaded. You just wanted this one thing. It might have been selfish, putting your lives in danger for a silly whimsical idea of yours, but it would make your first Christmas spent with Luke magical.

"You two are year-long campers for a reason," Mr. D firmly stated. He was correct in that respect, powerful campers like you two attracted monsters from far and wide. With your powerful charm speaking abilities and ability to create illusions of someone's greatest desires, and Luke's incredible sword fighting abilities, and not to mention his ability to bend the air in ripples as a traveling method, you two were quite a dynamic couple.

"Chiron," You pleaded, as you turned to Chiron. Chiron seemed deep in thought, as he pensively stroked his goatee (do I call it a horse-tee? centaur-tee?).

"These two of our campers are some of our best campers. They know how to adequately defend themselves in any situation tossed their way, am I correct?" Chiron turned to you two, the right corner of his mouth fighting a smile. You had never been so grateful for Chiron's existence until that moment (putting aside that time that he taught you the full extent of your illusional abilities, that was amazing of him).

"Yes, yes Chiron," Luke said, as you vigorously nodded your head.

"Yes, we will carry golden drachmas and Iris message you in case anything goes wrong," I tried to persuade them. "Not that we will inherently cause anything to go wrong," you trailed off.

"We will also bring weapons, just in case anything happens," Luke jumped in right away. "We will take care of ourselves, we promise."

"Think of this like a test, if we come back, we live, if not, well, we die. If we can't even handle the city that surrounds us, if we get called to a quest, well, that means we are screwed," you joked, also not joking at the same time. Hoping that this would persuade Mr. D, you gave Chiron a quick thumbs up, a symbol of your gratitude for having trust in you two.

"Hmm," Mr. D hummed for a while. You hoped he wasn't asleep, it was past that groggy toddler's bedtime.

"Well I permit Luke Castellan and Y/N L/N to spend the day in New York City tomorrow, granted they come back with gifts for me as well," Chiron winked.

"Oh yes, yes!" You excitedly said, a wide smile spread across your face.

"Of course, we will buy gifts for you Chiron, and for you as well Mr. D," Luke continued.

"Hmm, alright. And you two promise that you will stay safe?" Mr. D questioned.

"Yes sir," you two responded stoically.

"And within reach at all times?" Mr. D continued.

"Yes sir," you two nodded.

"Well I permit Lukas Clarkson and Y/nN La/N to spend the day in New York City tomorrow, granted they come back with gifts for me as well," Mr. D retorted, horribly butchering our names. Neither Luke nor I corrected him, fearful that he could suddenly have a change of heart and change his mind.

"Thank you so so so much!" You grinned.

"Have a great night!" Luke said, as he practically dragged you out the door.

"We did it! Oh my gosh, we are so good!" You excitedly hugged Luke the moment you exited the Big House. Hugging you and lifting you in the air, you two laughed joyously as you two landed on the lawn. Landing on top of Luke, you played with his hair. You hadn't left Camp Half-Blood without your mother, who would whisk you to some location in New York City for a day-trip gossip session.

"We did amazing, Princess," Luke smiled up at you. He squeezed your waist, causing a tornado of butterflies to travel up your navel.

"Well, we better get a long night's sleep tonight. We have an extremely long day tomorrow," you shyly smiled.

"Great idea babe, but first," Luke cheekily grinned, as he flipped you upside down. Startled, your eyes widened as Luke began to unabashedly pepper kisses across your face, neck, and collarbone. You didn't care that you two were in public, you were just grateful to have a wonderful boyfriend and wonderful people who could trust you two. You couldn't wait for tomorrow.

comment to be a part of the taglist for part 2!

xoxo, cznszn 𐙚₊❤︎

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #percy jackson #luke castellan #luke #annabeth chase #pjo tv show #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan fic #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #cznsznwrites #Spotify

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bigandgreedy · 1 month

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If you want to do Italian American New York culture learn how to make baked ziti bc let me tell you. Christmas? Ziti. Super Bowl? Ziti. Easter? Ziti. Birthday party? Ziti. 4th of July bbq? Ziti is making an appearance. Thanksgiving? You would think surely that’s not on the menu for Thanksgiving and yes it is baked ziti.

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yourimagines · 10 months

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Christmas/holidays headcanons F1

Lando Norris

Lando likes to spend the holidays with his family in England.

You also celebrate Christmas with your family so you guys arranged which days you are going to him and which days he’s coming to you.

You both promised to get each other something small and not expensive…

Lando didn’t listen and bought you a necklace, something small but expensive

You guys liked to hang out in your pyjamas, watching some Christmas movies

New Year’s Eve is celebrated in monoco with both of your friends

Daniel Ricciardo

You and Daniel decorated the whole house together, the tree, lights everything.

Spending Christmas in Australia with his family

Christmas shopping and going to a Christmas market

Wearing a Christmas sweater you guys bought for each other

Buying funny presents for each other

New Year’s Eve is celebrated alone between the two of you

Lewis Hamilton

Celebrating Christmas in England with his and your family all together

Baking Christmas cookies

Watching Christmas movies

Going ice skating in a small town

Buying thoughtful presents for each other

Celebrating New Year’s Eve in New York with friends

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macysparadeblog · 10 months

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⚠️ NEW FLOAT ALERT ⚠️

#brachs #macy's thanksgiving day parade #macy's #thanksgiving #macysthanksgivingdayparade #macys #thanksgiving parade #thanksgiving day parade #new float #baking #parade #Thanksgiving 2023 #nyc #new york city #palace #christmas

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greensagephase · 10 months

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Thanksgiving (Nonviolent Communication One-Shot)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x SpiderFemaleReader (colleagues to friends to lovers; currently in the friendship era, so no romance.) Summary: Thanksgiving at Miguel's. Word Count: 7,094 Warnings: None! Just a cozy Thanksgiving dinner with Miguel and the other spider members. Some Spanish included but translations can be found at the end. A/N: This is a one-shot for my Nonviolent Communication fanfic but can be read as a standalone. Masterlist

Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate! Happy Thursday to everyone else!

The air is chilly as you swing through the air. The city is busier than ever with Thanksgiving just around the corner. You spot people already buying groceries for their dinners. You hear of their plans as you swing above them, hearing how they’ll be picking up family from the airport or how they still haven’t decided what dessert to bake for dinner.

Hearing other people’s plans remind you of the times you had that, back when you still had your parents, Peter, and his Aunt May. The five of you would have dinner together at your parents’ place and it was always a great time but eventually Aunt May passed away. Then it was your parents and that left Peter and you. And now it’s just you ever since Peter’s death four years ago.

You swing onto a rooftop, staring down at the city’s streets below. It wasn’t until last year that you even celebrated the holidays. You just didn’t have it in you after losing your last bit of family with Peter’s death and cutting off friends from your universe years ago after Peter’s passing, however, ever since joining the Spider Society, things have changed. Last year you had friendsgiving with your spidey friends like Miles, Hobie, Gwen, and the rest of the group. Then, for Christmas and the New Year you were invited to Miles’s building party by the Morales, which resulted in you taking food to Miguel and spending time with him on both occasions.

Now, this is the second year of holidays with friends, and the thought alone fills you with an immense gratitude after spending three years on your own before joining the Spider Society. You haven’t talked with your friends about any plans for Thanksgiving since you’ve all been busy with missions and the spiderlings have had school but you’re sure by today you’ll be talking about it. Ever since last year’s holidays, things have changed between Miguel and you. He’s far more open ever since he almost lost his life back in the spring and then there’s the Saturday dinners at each other’s places. You can’t help but wonder if he’d be interested in joining you and the rest of the group this year, though you know it’s still hard for Miguel to be open around the others. Still, you hope at least the two of you can do something if he’s up for it.

With one last glance around your city to make sure everything is alright, you open a portal and travel to Nueva York, finding yourself instantly at HQ. You walk through hallways, nodding to other fellow spider members as they greet you on your way to the cafeteria where your friends informed you they’d be at. You finally reach your destination, taking a seat on an empty chair as the group talks. Being the last one to join, everyone turns to greet you.

“She’s finally here!”

You laugh and nod. “Sorry guys, morning patrol.”

“It’s alright, we were just talking about this week’s missions but now that we’re all here we need to talk about Friendsgiving!” Gwen says.

“Yeah, about that,” Miles says, smiling nervously. “We have family from mom’s side coming and I’ve been put in charge of showing my cousins the city for the next couple of days until Thanksgiving. I won’t be able to attend our little gathering this year. I’m really sorry, guys,” he says apologetically.

“I… Won’t be either,” Gwen reveals. “Ever since my dad and I made up after I revealed my Spider-Woman identity, he decided to reach out to other relatives and now we’re traveling out of the state to have Thanksgiving dinner with them in Montana. We’re leaving two days before, so I can’t make it either.”

“Gayatri has a three-day event she was invited to and she’s asked me to go with her. I can’t say no and disappoint her, so I’m afraid I cannot attend, too,” Pav adds with a frown.

And just like that, everyone had some kind of plan that makes it impossible to have Friendsgiving before Thanksgiving like last year.

“Wait, Y/N, what about you?” Miles asks with a frown.

You smile and shake your head. “I don’t have any plans but it’s alright.”

There’s an instant buzz around the table about the fact that you have no plans and that you’re going to spend Thanksgiving day alone. You get their attention, trying to calm them down.

“Guys, it’s fine. Please calm down. Friendsgiving doesn’t have an official date. We can do something afterward, it’s no problem.”

“But you’re going to be all alone,” Margo says with a sad expression.

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure them. “Seriously. I’ll make some dinner for myself and probably start watching Christmas movies or something.”

“That sounds nice,” Noir says, nodding.

“It is, Noir! So, you guys do your thing and we’ll plan afterwards, okay?” you reply, trying to reassure them once again that you’ll be fine, besides you still haven’t asked Miguel if he has plans, though you don’t mention him to avoid answering questions.

Your friends nod, a bit hesitant but there’s nothing else any of you can do.

“You should come over. You know mom and dad don’t mind. You’re the one that declined the invitation last week” Miles says, reminding you that the Morales family did in fact invite you for Thanksgiving but you were made aware that new family members would join this year.

“Miles, there’s going to be new people. It’ll save us having to lie about me being your school mentor but please thank your parents again for the invitation. I appreciate it,” you say, smiling.

“I guess that’s true. Plus, my cousins will probably pick up on something. My mom already told me to avoid my ‘actividades de arañita’ to prevent any suspicions,” Miles says with a frown.

You smile at him. “It’s better to do what Mrs. Morales says. You don’t want to upset her. Just enjoy the day guys! We’ve all worked a lot these past few days,” you say thinking about the multiple missions you yourself have been on only in a few days. “Rest and enjoy your time with your loved ones.”

About half an hour later after talking and convincing your friends that you’ll be fine on your own, you head to Miguel’s lab with two coffee cups in hand to get some work done. For months now you’ve been working with him on the society’s reports that always consist of the anomalies captured each week, along with information about planned missions and other duties that are assigned to members in order to keep the Spider Society running effectively. After working on the reports on his own for so long, well with some help from Lyla, Miguel asked you a few months ago if you were interested in helping with that after you helped over the few days he was recovering from his injuries. Since then, you’ve been working together on the reports with ease and it’s one less thing Miguel needs to do on his own now.

You reach Miguel’s lab, calling Lyla’s name as always so she can inform Miguel that you’re there. Despite your friendship and everything you’ve shared with each other over the last year since you joined the Spider Society, you’re still respectful of his space.

“You know, I don’t think Miguel really cares that you enter his lab without announcing yourself. You could just come in,” Lyla says, appearing out of nowhere, sitting in mid-air with a leg crossed over the other.

“Miguel doesn’t like it when members enter unannounced,” you reply with a smile. “You know that.”

Lyla grins before she disappears, appearing again a few seconds later. “But you’re not like the other members,” she answers, sliding her heart-shaped glasses down her nose, still grinning. “You know that... Go in.”

She disappears again, leaving you alone. You enter Miguel’s lab, walking by the many, many surfaces with organized tech pieces thanks to you since you’ve been organizing his lab for months now, until you reach the heart of Miguel’s lab. You find him standing on his platform with his back to you, arms moving as he slides screens around. Upon hearing you, he turns around to face you. A small grin forms on his lips.

“Good morning,” he says, softly.

“Good morning,” you reply as you approach him, cups of coffee in hand. “I don’t know if you’ve had coffee already but I brought you some.”

“I haven’t. Thank you,” he says as he accepts the cup from you, smiling softly as he notices you’ve brought him a large one. Somehow you’ve been getting him these large coffee cups from the cafeteria when he used to struggle to get them before. He specifically orders large cups for himself as the regular size cups don’t satisfy his caffeine intake due to his physique yet he was never able to get his hands on them in the past because other members got them before he did. Ever since he mentioned it months ago, you’ve somehow been able to get him these without issue. He still has no idea how but he’s not questioning it.

“Always,” you reply softly as you head to a desk that has become yours since Miguel set it up for you. You open a laptop, far more advanced since it’s from Miguel’s universe, and begin to work on the report starting with the anomaly section.

The two of you work in peace with Lyla breaking the silence ever so often to tell Miguel something while he continues to work on his screens. As you’re working on the report, your thoughts turn to Thanksgiving, wondering if you should ask Miguel if he wants to join you for dinner. You can’t help but feel a little nervous about it. Sure, the two of you have dinner every Saturday now, rotating from his penthouse to your apartment each week and cooking for each other. And yes, you spent Christmas Eve and Christmas day with him thanks to the Morales family asking you to deliver food for him since he didn’t attend their party after being invited. Despite what happened with Miles and Miguel launching a multiverse hunt to prevent him from breaking canon, in the aftermath of it all, the Morales family care about him and that was why they didn’t want him to be all alone on Christmas Eve, knowing he has no one in his own universe. So, you were sent despite your nervousness only to find Miguel at his home cooking. He ended up inviting you to stay for dinner and even invited you for the recalentado the next day. The same thing happened for New Year’s Eve and since then, the two of you have grown closer but still, you can’t help but feel nervous about it.

You sneak a glance at Miguel, finding him working on his screens with the cup of coffee in one hand. You turn away after a few seconds, returning back to the report and telling yourself you’ll ask him once you take a break.

Miguel’s focus is on the multiple screens he has opened. There’s so much to go through especially as there were so many missions this week. His eyes skim through data all from anomalies captured to simple data retrieved from universes that indicate if there’s anomaly matter present. He brings the cup of coffee to his lips, savoring the taste and warmth from it. There’s so much to do but Miguel’s thoughts go to Thanksgiving. He’s been thinking about it for days, wanting to ask you but every time he tried, something popped up. If it wasn’t some anomaly detected then it was someone interrupting him or you having to return to your universe because of some emergency. Even on Saturday when you had dinner together, he was unable to ask you because Lyla showed up out of nowhere, taking his moment to ask you and after that, he just gave up as the conversation shifted to something else.

Now Thanksgiving is two days away and for all he knows, you might already have plans with your other friends or perhaps you were invited to Miles’s universe since he knows the Morales family have taken a liking to you ever since you were introduced to them. He sighs silently, thinking about the ham and other ingredients he already bought. He looks at you over his shoulder, noticing how focused you’re on the report, typing furiously on the laptop as you enter data. He can’t help but smile at the sight before he looks away, trying to avoid being caught staring but when he turns around, there she is. Miguel glares at Lyla, who only grins at him without saying a word. He tries to swipe her away but of course, she disappears before he gets the chance to, only making his glare intensify as she appears on the other side with a smirk. Miguel turns away to focus on the tasks at hand, deciding that he’ll talk to you about it once you stop working to avoid disrupting your flow of work, ignoring Lyla.

The two of you continue to work until an hour passes by. You stop typing and lean back on the chair, stretching. You’ve managed to finish almost the entire section on anomalies but decide to get up.

"How's the report going?" Miguel asks, stepping off his platform, trying to find a way to ask you about Thanksgiving dinner.

"It's going well. Almost done with the anomaly section. There's so many this time," you say with a chuckle.

Miguel nods, smiling. "I swear this always happens around the holidays. Hopefully it slows down," he answers, genuinely hoping so everyone can enjoy their days off since he's decided to give not only Thursday but also Friday off on top of the weekend.

You nod, stretching again, thinking about how to bring up the topic. You clear your throat softly and look up at Miguel. He seems to be looking off to the side with a thoughtful look on his face.

"So, I -" you start.

"Hey, I -" Miguel says at the same time as you.

The two of you pause, holding each other's gaze in surprise. You chuckle and Miguel grins, scratching the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry, go ahead," Miguel says apologetically.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?" you mumble, embarrassed.

The two of you stare at each other after you talk in unison once again.

"Should I decide who speaks first?" Lyla asks, appearing from thin air between the two of you with an annoyed but also amused look.

"No," Miguel immediately says.

"That's not necessary."

"Uh... Alright, then. Hopefully you guys actually have a Thanksgiving dinner with the way things are going. See ya!" Lyla responds with a smirk before she disappears again.

"Lyla," Miguel says with a soft scowl but turns to look down at you. "She's been in a mood today."

"Oh, I definitely noticed," you reply, laughing softly as you remember her comment from earlier about you entering the lab unannounced.

Miguel shakes his head. "She notices the buzz from the holidays and gets even more... sassy than usual," he says, looking away for a few seconds.

You smile and nod, guessing that he also wants to ask you about dinner.

"What I was trying to say earlier was if you... You probably already have plans with the others, so I'm probably very late in asking and you can tell me if you already do, so don't feel pressured to-"

"I was going to ask you the same thing" you say softly.

Miguel stops, feeling relieved that you've spoken up. He feels heat rise to his cheeks but smiles softly. "Yeah?" he asks gently.

"Yes. I was just... Trying to get some work done but I was going to ask if you wanted to join me for dinner on Thanksgiving," you reply confidently now that you know that Miguel was also thinking about it. "I don't have a fully established menu but there'll be ham, if that’s okay with you."

Miguel nods. "Have you bought anything yet?"

"Not yet but I'm going shopping tonight," you reply, already making a grocery list in your head.

"In that case, join me for dinner here in Nueva York. I already have everything, including a ham. You don't have to worry about buying anything" Miguel says. "Or cooking."

You frown softly. "That means you're cooking everything alone. I can help-" you start but Miguel shakes his head.

"I'm cooking. If anything..." Miguel says thinking before he smiles. "If you want to make some dessert, that'd be great since I just realized I forgot about that."

"I can do that!" you say with a smile, feeling better about him cooking everything though you know Miguel can manage on his own since he's a great cook.

"Great! Is six okay?"

You nod. "That sounds good to me,” you reply just as Lyla decides to appear again, clapping.

"Aww, you guys finally did it! Seems like there will be a Thanksgiving dinner after all. I'm proud of you two."

"¡Cállate!”

"You really are in a mood today, Lyla.”

🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁

Thanksgiving Day

You make sure everything is off in your kitchen one last time, even though you’ve already checked twice, before you grab your reusable bag packed with everything you’ve baked. In the end, you baked some cookies, two pies, and a large cheesecake. You take a quick look around your apartment, making sure the door of your small but homey apartment is locked. With the bag in your hand, you get ready to open a portal but pause when your eyes land on Peter’s photo. Your Peter. You put your hand down, staring at the photo for a few seconds as you’re greeted with his smile. You smile softly. It really has been over four years since his death; so many holidays without him or your parents.

Despite the years, you can’t help but reminisce on those days again, feeling thankful that these days you can look back at them in a calmer way, without too much sadness. You walk over to the wall to get a better look, finding another one with your parents.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” you whisper softly.

After a minute or two, you finally turn away and open a portal, stepping out into Miguel’s living room. You instantly feel the cozy vibes of his penthouse. The fireplace is on and there’s a few lamps on here and there, creating a soft and cozy ambiance throughout the space. There’s soft music playing from somewhere and of course, there’s the comforting and mouth watering scent of food filling the air. You can’t help but take a deep breath as all the lovely scents engulf you.

Your thoughts are interrupted as you hear Miguel’s steps, noticing him coming from his kitchen and dining area to meet you. You take in the sight as he approaches you, unable to not find it endearing as he stands before you with a small grin wearing a light gray sweater, dark pants, and an apron.

“Hey, you made it,” he says as he dries his hands with a towel.

“I did. Sorry if I’m a few minutes late,” you apologize as you did stop to look at your photographs for a few minutes.

“You arrived just in time. Here, I can help you with that,” Miguel says motioning to your bag.

“Oh, it’s not too heavy. I can carry it,” you say softly.

“Please,” he says, extending his arm and well, you cannot decline his help again so you let him take the bag.

“Thank you,” you mutter quietly.

“Always,” he replies gently, now holding your bag. “Come on in, dinner is almost ready,” he says as he motions for you to go first, always being a gentleman.

You thank him as you walk in, the scent of food growing stronger as you enter the kitchen and dining area. Just like the living room, this part of the penthouse feels warm and cozy and you can’t help but notice that Miguel even put a pumpkin as decoration on the kitchen island where there’s already utensils and napkins set, the place you always have dinner at.

You walk towards the chairs, moving out of his way as he places your bag on the counter to the side. He walks around the island, heading to the oven as you begin to unpack your containers, setting them out for later.

“The ham needs just a few more minutes,” Miguel says as he checks it.

“It smells amazing. As soon as I arrived, I was hit by the lovely scent of food,” you reply, smiling as you see him close the oven door. He moves to the stove to check on pans, looking as natural as always in his kitchen.

“Thank you, I hope you enjoy it,” Miguel says, turning around with a small grin before he walks towards the counter, standing across from you. He can’t help but notice how cozy you look in your outfit, thinking it’s always nice to see you outside of your suit. He remembers how almost a year ago, you saw him in normal clothes for the first time on Christmas Eve. He turns around, smiling as he recalls how hard you were trying not to stare at him since he used to wear his suit every day no matter what since he was at HQ around the clock. Now, so much has changed. Thanks to you. “Please go ahead and take a seat, I’ll get the drinks,” Miguel says as he retrieves them, setting them with everything else.

“Thank you, and I have no doubt I will. You already know I think you’re an amazing cook,” you reply, smiling.

Miguel smiles, for some reason always feeling happy when you tell him that and even more so when he sees that look on your face that tells him you’re delighted by the food he has cooked. “Well, we’ll see if you like this. I followed a recipe mom taught Gabriel and I before she passed away,” he says as he leans on the counter, unable to stop his flooding thoughts about family.

Of course, it’s hard not to. Just like you, he always thinks about his family but there’s no denying that the thought of family is especially present during these days of festivities. It’s on days like these that their absence is felt stronger. Miguel sighs softly, looking around for a few seconds before his eyes land on you. This is the first year that he’s celebrating in a while. He had the opportunity to celebrate with Gabriella one time but before that, it had been many years in which the holidays had felt like any other day after Gabriel passed away, too.

Now he’s here, cooking dinner once again and he’s joined by you, who sits in front of him, also looking like you’re lost in thought. Miguel knows you well enough now to recognize that look on your face; the one you get every time you’re thinking about your loved ones.

Both of you look over at the oven as the timer goes off. Miguel approaches the oven, grabbing oven mitts from one of his counters to pull out the ham.

“Do you need any help?” you ask but he shakes his head, his back to you.

“Thank you but don’t worry, I got it,” he says softly as he takes out the ham. He turns around and you get a glimpse of it for the first time, noticing it’s large enough to feed a whole group of people. As if hearing your thoughts, Miguel smiles sheepishly as he places the tray on a counter where he has a set up for it. “You’re probably thinking this is too much and I agree,” he says, removing the oven mitts. “When I went shopping there weren't any smaller ones. Believe it or not this was the smallest one I found and that was after checking a few stores.”

“It’s quite large,” you say with a chuckle. “If we had planned sooner, I could’ve looked in my universe, too but I will say - it looks delicious.”

Miguel grins, thinking, and perhaps he shouldn’t but he can’t stop himself. “If you’re up for it, next year we’ll know to plan better… although, I’m not complaining about this year” he says softly, meeting your eyes. He really can’t complain, even if he’ll have a whole lot of extra food after he packs some for you to take home because he plans on it. No, he cannot complain after everything that’s happened over the last year, Miguel realizes to himself. He smiles, feeling excited to dig in at last. “Ready?”

You happily nod and so, your Thanksgiving dinner begins. Miguel lists everything he cooked as sides. Even though you approach the stove to see everything and serve yourself, Miguel serves you, asking how much you want of each item. At last, the two of you sit side by side, sitting on the same chairs as always. You enjoy the food and chat while there’s still soft music playing in the background. You talk about the food and compliment Miguel which you notice makes him blush slightly. He eventually asks about your childhood and the holidays, specifically about Thanksgiving, so you tell him about that and he listens intently, nodding and smiling softly when you smile at your own memories. Miguel is about to ask you a question when your gizmo goes off. Right after yours rings, so does Miguel’s, which sits on a counter. You stop talking once his goes off, too, notifying him that he’s received a message. Miguel is about to tell you to go on but just then, the gizmos go off at the same time, making the two of you raise your eyebrows in confusion.

“Excuse me,” Miguel says, putting his napkin off to the side before standing up. “Let me check that.”

He walks over to the counter, hoping it’s not bad news though Lyla would’ve already appeared if that was the case but still, he hopes that nothing has popped up elsewhere. He retrieves the gizmo and turns around to head back to you as he scrolls just as you check yours.

You raise an eyebrow just as another message arrives, noticing it’s from Miles. You open the thread, taken by surprise when you see that Miguel has been added to the group chat. You look up at him, now knowing why both your gizmos went off. The gizmos start going off as more messages are delivered.

Gwen: “Happy Thanksgiving! And happy day to those that don’t celebrate!”

*Miguel O’Hara has been added.*

Miles: “Happy Thanksgiving!”

Pav: “Happy day, guys!”

HoBiE: “What’s this about?”

Margo: “It’s Thanksgiving, Hobie… Also, Happy Thanksgiving!”

Noir: “Happy Turkey day!"

Porker: “I love me some turkey! Happy Thanksgiving, guys!

Peni P.: “Happy day from me and SP!”

Peter B.: “Hey, guys! Happy Thanksgiving from us! Also, Miguel is on here now?”

Gwen: “Where is Y/N?”

HoBiE: “Who added Miguel?”

Miles: “Does it matter? ¡Hola, tío! ¡Bienvenido al chat!”

You look up at Miguel who seems to be reading the messages as they arrive. You can’t help but smile a bit as you see his furrowed eyebrows. He looks up at you with a questioning look on his face. You shrug.

“I don’t know who added you,” you say, still smiling and wondering if he’ll reply.

Another message arrives, pulling your attention.

HoBiE: “I doubt he’s going to reply.”

Margo: “Where is Y/N? Has anyone heard from her?

HoBiE: “I’ll check on her.”

Gwen: “Already did. She’s not at her apartment.”

Miles: “I thought you were supposed to be in Montana?”

“Seems like they're looking for you," Miguel says softly as he comes back to your side, taking a seat.

"Let me respond really quickly. I don't want to let this amazing food get cold."

Y/N: "Happy Thanksgiving!"

HoBiE: "There she is"

Gwen: "I am in Montana but I decided to check on Y/N."

Miguel O'Hara: "Happy Thanksgiving."

HoBiE: "The whole government name..."

You look up at Miguel, finding him shaking his head, which makes you want to smile even more since he actually responded.

"The whole government name," he repeats under his breath with an amused tone before he puts the gizmo in front of him. He takes a drink from his glass and looks down at you. "I was thinking it was an emergency, thankfully it's not."

"I thought so, too. I'm glad we can keep enjoying this meal."

Miguel smiles warmly down at you, seeing that delighted look on your face as you bring food to your mouth. He continues eating but a thought comes to his head.

"So, you didn't mention dinner to them?" he says as casually as possible, though he can't help but feel off by the fact that you didn't tell your friends.

You nod, looking up. "I mentioned having Thanksgiving dinner but didn't tell them about you hosting. I knew they'd probably ask questions about your place and you know," you answer, leaving out the part that you've noticed that nobody else at HQ seems to know where he lives nor has been invited.

Even people like Jess or Peter B., people who you consider are close colleagues to him, don't seem to know. You came to that conclusion back when you stayed for a few days while you were looking after Miguel until he recovered. Jess and Peter B., who stepped up as command during that time, communicated with him through gizmos once Miguel was discharged and sent home after they had gone out of their way to meet with him in person when he was at the infirmary. Your guess was that they knew his home was off limits or they simply didn't know where he lived to meet him in person.

Miguel nods, understanding now. For a moment he thought you didn’t want your friends to know about you being here with him for another reason but no, as always, you're thinking about him and his boundaries.

"I appreciate that," he replies softly. "Some members have asked me before. I'm certain they'd do nothing but I do like my privacy."

You nod. "I know what you mean. That's why I opted to keep our plans as vague as possible."

Miguel smiles, feeling grateful to you as always for being respectful to him. "Thank you, Y/N."

You smile back at him. "Always," you answer gently.

The two of you keep eating, resuming your conversation from earlier and simply enjoying each other's company. It's not until Miguel gets up to get seconds that he looks at all the food he cooked again. There's going to be a lot of leftovers. He thinks about your friends, a random thought popping to his mind as he sits again.

"How would you feel if once we're done having dinner - you invite them over?" Miguel says, making you turn your head in surprise as it doesn’t take long to put two and two together about who “them” is.

"Well, it's your home," you reply softly with a smile. "If you want to."

"But are you okay with it, not being just… us?” Miguel asks.

“I don’t mind if you don’t mind,” you reply with a chuckle, noticing the food. “You’re also thinking about how much there’ll be left, aren’t you?”

Miguel grins. “Yes, I am. I think a couple of teenagers and Peter B. might help.”

You grin back. “Then you have a plan. And there’s plenty of dessert, too.”

“About that…” he says with a sheepish smile.

“I baked a pie just for you,” you tell him, which instantly makes him smile because you’ve realized over time that Miguel has a sweet tooth. “I’ll hide it.”

You finish eating dinner while chatting about the spiderlings as you’ve come to call them and shortly after, Miguel and you get the kitchen ready. At last, he asks if you can let them know on his behalf, which you agree. It doesn’t take long before the string of messages arrive all ranging from being surprised that you’re at Miguel’s to the fact that they’re going to see his place for the first time.

In a matter of minutes everyone, except for Peter B., are standing in Miguel’s living room, thrilled to see his place and talking about what a great view he has of the city and, of course, they talk about the scent of food as they enter the kitchen and dining room area.

You chuckle quietly as you hear some of the spiderlings say they ate a few hours ago but the smell of food is making them hungry again. Miguel and you serve them plates and before either of you know it, Miguel's dining table, which you guys have never sat on since it's too large for two people alone, is full with your friends chattering about their day.

Miguel and you sit next to each other, listening in and responding when talked to directly, adding to the conversation here and there.

Miguel can't help but look around the table slowly, feeling a bit nostalgic as he remembers the days his mom, Gabriel, and other friends used to gather around the table for the holidays. He feels as though he's back to those days, just with different people. There's still music playing in the background, thanks to Lyla who said it'd set the mood earlier when he was cooking, and the sound of a group conversing filling the air in Miguel's penthouse, once again.

Miguel looks over at you subtly, finding you talking to Hobie who sits on the other side of you. He smiles faintly, realizing today would've been just another day like so many years before, working at HQ all day and night while everyone was off if it wasn’t for everything that’s happened over the last year.

You talk with Hobie but eventually look around the table as well, thinking. Last year you were invited to Peter B.’s universe and it was great. It was the first time you celebrated the holidays in three years but this year feels different. You feel lighter, like you’ve really moved forward after Peter’s loss. Your eyes end up on Miguel, who’s already looking your way. You hold each other’s gazes, smiling to each other discreetly before you turn away.

Upon learning that you brought dessert, everyone jumps at the chance to eat something sweet. The pie and cheesecake are sliced and the cookies begin to disappear one by one. Peter B. shows up at last, carrying Mayday.

“You guys, I’m sorry. I couldn’t slip out earlier. Too many family and friends around but MJ covered for us. Is that cheesecake? Did Y/N make cheesecake?” Peter B. asks, noticing Pav and Gwen eating a slice each.

“I did,” you answer before you take a drink from your glass, smiling.

“You should’ve mentioned that earlier, I would’ve found a way to get out sooner,” he replies.

You cut him a slice, which he immediately starts eating.

“Best dessert I’ve had all day,” he mumbles, giving Mayday some to try.

You grin and lean back on the counter with Miguel standing nearby until Miles and Hobie take him away to his living room, apparently impressed by his sound system but before he walks away he gives you a look, as if telling you that he’ll be back soon. You nod back, watching as he walks behind Miles and Hobie. You sigh softly and look at the others as they follow them into the living room, leaving you, Peter B., and Mayday alone. He finishes eating his slice, wiping his mouth and Mayday’s.

“Seriously, best dessert all day. You should’ve seen some of the stuff MJ’s family brought,” Peter B. says with a bit of a frown, making you laugh quietly.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. You can take some with you since there’s still plenty left. I think MJ might like it, too,” you reply as you walk over to the windows.

Peter follows you, carrying Mayday. “He has a great view.”

You nod, staring out at the city.

“So, you and Miguel…” Peter starts, which immediately draws your attention back to him.

You look around to make sure no one is around, thankfully seeing that everyone is in the living room. Miguel is showing Miles some remote and you faintly hear him call “mijo” to Miles.

“What do you mean?” you ask, quietly.

“Oh, I don’t mean it like that, though I - Never mind. What I was trying to say is that…” Peter trails off, staring out a window. “It probably sounds cheesy, especially because of the day but I’m thankful to see you and him doing this.”

You look up at him, eyebrows furrowed. He looks down at you with his Peter B. signature smile before it fades as he thinks of previous years.

“What I mean is that… I was there when everything happened with Gabriella. You know, I met Miguel before he discovered that universe and he was already so closed off. I don’t know much about his past. I don’t think any of us do, actually. Perhaps you’re the exception now and I’m not asking if you do know or don’t but he shut everyone out. Anyone who tried to reach out was always pushed away. Then he found Gabriella’s universe and well, you know what happened. He was happy in a way that none of us who were already part of the society had ever seen him. After Gabriella - he closed off twice as much. Jess and I wonder if he’d ever recover. If he’d ever let anyone in.”

Peter pauses, looking down at Mayday and fixing her hair. There’s a frown on his face as he turns to face you again.

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. You were alone for three years in your universe, with no friends or family. The first day I met you after Jess recruited you and Miguel accepted your enrollment, I could see how you were closed off, too. Not the same way as Miguel. It was different but you were closed off nonetheless.” Peter pauses and then smiles. “I’m just thankful to see two people I really care about move forward and have each other to lean on. I’m glad you have each other, and that you’ve allowed us to take you in as part of our little family. And it seems that Miguel might be on the same path, hopefully,” he says, looking behind you.

You turn to look in that direction, finding Miguel surrounded by everyone as he shows them some other advanced device from this universe. You can’t help but smile at the sight, taking a mental picture of it to save forever, though you have your suspicions that Lyla is probably already taking care of photos, considering she has a file that consists of random members’ photos. Appropriate ones, of course. Or so she claims.

You sigh softly and turn to Peter B., who’s already staring out the window thinking about your lingering gaze on Miguel just moments ago yet, he says nothing about it and holds Mayday closer. You look up at Peter, feeling appreciation and love for one of your dear friends, as you remember your first day at HQ and how he introduced you to the group once you were accepted into the Spider Society. You can’t help but wonder if you would’ve become friends with this group had he not introduced you. The thought alone makes you a bit sad but it’s replaced by gratitude for him and for what he did. You rest your head on his arm softly.

“Thank you. For introducing me that first day to everyone,” you say quietly.

Peter smiles. “There’s no need to thank me but you got it, kid. Thank you for accepting us as your friends.”

Miguel is with the other members, still talking about some device when his eyes find you leaning on Peter’s arm. He continues to talk but his eyes keep watching until you step away, laughing at something Mayday did. The image stays present in his mind the whole time, until it’s just you and him again and everyone has headed home for the night. It’s almost midnight but here you are once again, leaning sideways and looking up at the moon and constellations with mugs of coffee, the kind that Miguel always makes for you now when it’s his turn to host dinner on Saturdays.

He can’t help but think about how you were leaning on Peter B. so comfortably earlier. He knows between the two of you, you’re far more accepting of physical touch than he is ever since losing Gabriella yet for some reason, seeing you lean on Peter B. has had him thinking. You’ve touched each other before, of course, like back when you were helping him recover after almost losing his life or the brushing of fingers here and there but nothing like how he saw you and Peter B. earlier or the way he’s seeing you hugging your other friends. As he looks up at the stars with you in silence, he seems stuck on this but he says nor does anything about it. For now. He takes a drink from his mug before breaking the silence, looking down at you.

“Thank you for coming today,” he says with a soft smile. “I enjoyed today. Every part of it.”

You smile, noticing the last part as you know it still isn’t easy for Miguel to open up to everyone else but today he went out of his way and invited your friends.

“I enjoyed it, too. Thank you for inviting me. The food was amazing,” you answer quietly, meeting his gaze.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he replies, truly feeling happy that you enjoyed dinner. He can’t help but wonder about the rest of the holidays for the year, remembering that last year you came over. He silently plans on asking you about it next week, with plenty of time but for now, he decides to enjoy the present.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Y/N,” Miguel says, grinning down at you. You smile up at him in a way that makes Miguel silently give thanks for you, like so many times before.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Miguel.”

🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁🦃🍁

Translation for italicized Spanish words: Actividades de arañita - spidey activities Recalentado - word translates to "reheated"; this is the act of inviting your closest friends and family the day after you host a party to eat the reheated leftovers, it's supposed to be a smaller tight-knit situation and less formal because it's with close family/friends Cállate - shut up Mijo - short for "my son"; an affectionate term; doesn't have to be used between a parent and their child

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wandagcre · 9 months

Note

SAM & HER GF & COREFOUR IN CHRISTMAS HEADCANONS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!

christmas with the core four as sam's girlfriend 🎄

Note: this had become a christmas special writing hhh i hope you like it nonetheless <3

whether you have a tradition or not during christmas time, you'll certainly have a lively extension of a family now that you're sam's girlfriend!

you ask sam what you should prepare and she simply says "your presence is much needed of course, then some clothes and finally, hope for the best for the sake of your sanity"

you chuckle at sam's words. it was between a lighthearted joke and reality. the 3/4 of the gang is full of expressive and loud personalities but you already met them and hung out, so you know you're in for a (good) ride 🫶🏼

but thankfully, you're already welcomed so you thought your previous worries were silly. chad goes for a special handshake, then mindy and tara for a warm hug and how are you's <3 it was genuine too

sam is already smiling at the sight of you as she puts your bags away, how you're getting along with them in christmas style. she has known the twins for so long and was ecstatic to finally continue celebrating it with her sister, and now with someone special — you.

after settling in, you're surprised that they actually cooked? not because of their skills but them combined is a hazard and their brain cells cancelling out each other. sam chimed in soon as she caught the conversation, "hey what does that say about me then! >:( i instructed them carefully when they started cooking,"

rest of the gang laughed, took no offense to your assumption. they said that you were absolutely right. in fact, tara reveals she almost did the classic switch up - salt over sugar - all because she got immersed at their in between conversations to which you join laughing at.

it's so diverse! full of everyone's favorite dishes at christmas time instead of the traditionally expected dishes. you told them that this was such a good idea and made things even more heartwarming to celebrate. they smile and chad rubs your back, "of course. we're our own little family. we do it according to our favorite picks and sharing it... in a way feels like you're sharing love, too. it makes it even more special." mindy butts in, "not bad, brother."

tara agrees and says chad definitely has his moments.

then! from your back, apparently sam sneaked in and smoothly glides another dish - your own favorite! she looks anywhere else except your eyes, "you didn't know the theme and you deserve a slot in this tradition," she murmured and tara adds, "so that's what you've been burning your hands for?" your eyes well up in affection. you press a chaste kiss to which the gang gagged at 😭

"no mistletoe for you two!" - they reprimanded you

trying eggnogs in discreet - perpetuated by the twins, specifically by chad (unknowingly made them after mindy said "go wild, surprise me") and immediately regretted her words. after things cooled down (re: woodsboro and new york mess) they decided to bring it up, the carpenter sisters weren't safe and so were you!

sam looking at the sidelines, suspiciously smiling and seemingly anticipating. you took more than a sip unknowingly, then soon as it hit your tastebuds, your face was contorted in disgust. the women started laughing. chad says "don't hate the brits!"

sam says in your defense, "you know they eat baked beans with dry sausages and bread right?" tara agrees with ease, saying that's a fair point and flips off the twins for the same surprise they did last year. adding to the chaos, you firmly say, "yeah! it offended my tastebuds. i thought this was a christmas tradition not a frat initiation!"

the core four loved your response 😭 sam included, was laughing hard and gasping for air. it was witty and the twins playfully retort that it was extreme of you to accuse!

sam couldn't stop smiling and laughing oh my god somebody help her facial muscles! it's permanently stitched to her at this point

mindy loves the banter. she nudges you and says that sam is partially getting her lick back. but mainly it was in your honor, to which she gags at because you guys are subtly so sweet already 🥹

they introduce you to some clichés, but with a twist! gingerbread house making but five of you will pick names, not revealing them and within an hour u should dedicate it to them. they're all wonky creations but decent. sam can't do much to control it anyway as they try to sabotage everyone, including yours 😭 the clean up will be tedious for sure!

you're surprised that tara decorated yours in your favorite color and how she noticed since it wasn't that obvious and yet she noticed a pattern apparently, it shows with your stuff and clothing! i think hers are perfected, standard-like creation and you see her stickman drawing attempt of two persons - apparently it's you and sam

sam points at it, "is that us? why am i smaller?" and tara grumbles. "this is for your girlfriend can you leave my masterpiece alone?"

you agree with tara who grinned widely at your approval, "be nice. i think it's an adorable touch to this homey gingerbread house!"

mindy adds knowingly, "also, sam, i hate to break it to you but you're an absolute puddle of baby around your girlfriend, that's why you're smaller - duh. your real height is not equivalent to your height there." and tara spreads her arms, exclaiming 'exactly!'

chad looks back and forth, trying to grasp the context. "oh! oh! i get it," he clasps his hands rather loudly. "you're so right for that. and you let her call you sammy?"

you giggle at sam's petulant pout at the teasing but she doesn't deny anything. "whatever," she grumbles and when you wanted to appease it with a kiss as you lean in to sam, the 3/4 are already making gagging and vomiting sounds 😭✋🏼

watching movies based on your favorite christmas themed movies! (insert an obscure movie u randomly hyperfixated or a popular one from your country) usually it was a matter of rock paper and scissors for fairness, but since you're new they gave you a special pass and played your choice of movie <3

your pick was new to them. therefore they were entranced at the plot and you enjoy the commentary and how they analyzed it, like little kids during the movie time in class. you look to your side and see that sam's eyebrows were bunched and she ate in sloth-like manner 😭

baby was so focused! it was funny how she looked like that while her arm is hooked around yours and leaned to you comfortably. sam says i can see why this is appealing to you... it's so you and unique and it matched your energy and she happily rambles - much to 3/4's surprise

not because sam is silently attentive but it's their first time to see her so open and carefree with her partner and so they have this faint, knowing smiles on their faces. they're happy that sam finally have found her person that she feels comfortable and honest with🥺

as you go to your respective rooms (obviously you're rooming with sam) mindy shouts from the hall, "please be respectful and let's keep the jolly, wholesome spirit alive! we do not need anymore virgo babies,"

tara visibly wanted to vomit and covered her ears. chad looks at his twin confused, "since when do you have beef with virgos?"

meanwhile you and sam were stuck in chuckling and was flustered. "i didn't even think of that!" you shout back to mindy who replies with sure, jan. as you and sam settle in her room, you take her hand and swung them gently, your gaze intent on sam's brown ones. "thank you for having me. i felt so loved." both of your hearts felt so full. your silly smile is unerasable and so is sam's, you find it endearing how the two of you probably look like fools together.

and sam pouts cutely at your words. "no, thank you baby for being here. it's only a first of many more to come." she retrieved something - a mistletoe - on her pocket. sam placed it above you two, and you smirk at her sly action. "let's seal it with a kiss then?" you say to which sam eagerly responds to and met your lips with no hesitation.

#headcanons #sam carpenter imagine #sam carpenter x fem reader #sam carpenter x reader #scream christmas #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x female reader #requested

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devilfic · 9 months

Text

❝small favor❞

V. the christmas special.

parts: previously / next plot: it's the most beautiful time of the year. pairing: mcu!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: christmas shenanigans, alcohol mentions, harry gets drunk for norman osborn related reasons, peter is a little ball of anxiety because he likes you, can I share with you what jobs I think ned and mj got after graduation. words: 8.4k.

a/n: this was gonna be a two-parter but I thought. no. so instead it's just super long :D

Peter has started visiting more.

There were the surprise visits on weekends. Something was just too important to wait a week, and too important to give you a call, and you liked that he made a note of bringing you food for the trouble. Then he was popping in on Wednesday nights—sometimes Friday mornings—because he'd forgotten to tell you this or he just couldn't wait to tell you that.

And he has texting you more, too. Not super serious things either, and after a few days of it, you had worked the fight or flight reaction to his ringtone out of your system. At some point, you had started feeling like this was becoming... a genuine friendship.

"I mean... I... yeah. We talked about it, didn't we?" Peter stops pouring, brownie batter dribbling off the lip of the bowl, "Friends. I- I think of you as a friend. If you think of me... as a friend."

You gnaw on your pen as you study him. It's another weekend surprise visit, and this time he's brought you boxed brookie batter as an olive branch. You'd actually been busy this time, and so you'd put him to work baking it while you made your vacation list, "It's just... crazy. I mean, we went from being strangers to only seeing each other once a week—purely professionally—and now you bake me things. And we hang out."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing! It's just weird," he continues to pour as you talk, "I used to see you as this unattainable hero. I couldn't believe you trusted me, felt comfortable enough to tell me your name, to care enough that even EDITH knows who I am. And now we're friends."

Peter's nose scrunches at that, and you've never wished more than now that you could see the rest of his face. He starts placing balls of cookie dough in the batter, "You talk about me like I'm Beyoncé or something."

"You're the Beyoncé of superheroes."

"Hey, that is not true. That title goes to Captain Marvel."

"Not to me."

"Well, of course not to you. You're my biggest fan."

"Wow, demoted to a fan already."

Peter slides the pan into the oven, "You know what I mean. You're biased."

"You're starting to sound like Jameson now."

He kicks the oven door closed and hops up onto the kitchen counter next to you, nudging your knee with his knee, "Oh, you haven't heard my Jameson impression. Watch this." Peter clears his throat, clenches his fist, and shakes it in the air, "Spider-Man is a menace and should be charged with domestic terrorism!"

You giggle, "Do more."

"5G isn't giving your kids cancer, it's Spider-Man leaving his webs all over the city!"

"More!"

"Spider-Man is laying eggs in our city's sewers so that one day, all his freaky spider children will rise up and take over New York!"

"Please, keep going."

Peter groans. You see his head tilt toward the notepad in your lap, "How's the vacation going? Or vacation planning, I guess."

You sigh. Your list to pack kept getting longer, and yet, anytime you tried to focus on what to bring, you would just remember something else you needed to do before leaving New York. "How do you think, based on my utter lack of excitement?"

Peter raises a brow, "Whaaat? You're not excited for Miami?"

"I was, but... everything in the world is happening at the same time. Jameson wants me to get two more articles out before I leave and my family wanted me in Florida three days ago. At this rate, I'm just barely going to make it there before Christmas. Not to mention..." You trail off as you look to Peter, whose mask eyes have gone comically wide in interest, "I don't want to leave you all alone."

"You know I've been Spider-Manning since I was like, 14, right?"

"Well, yeah, but- wait, 14?" Peter grimaces. You gloss over it before he can worry himself about it, "Anyway, I just worry. I mean, with Fisk turning the PR tide and God knows what he's planning, I don't wanna just fly to the other side of the country. It feels wrong."

Peter smirks, "Nah, nah. It's fine. I can take care of myself."

"Don't make me remind you about how all of this," you gesture between Peter and the oven, "started." He looks away from you, sheepish. "You know what I mean, right? Maybe I'm overestimating my worth to you, but-"

"You're definitely not. You have no idea how much you mean to me." That stuns you. It stuns both of you, clearly, if Peter's frantic peek at your face was anything to go by. His mouth gapes like a fish out of water for a moment, "I just mean that... you've made being Spidey... easier on me. It's nice knowing someone's actually on my side in this city. So yeah, it will feel really weird without you being just a swing away."

"You can still call, Peter. I won't mind."

"And when your family asks who's bothering you while you're sunbathing on the beach?"

"I mean, my little cousins will be impressed if I name drop Spider-Man."

He smiles. He kicks his feet out, heels bumping the cabinet doors beneath you while silence settles. You take this chance to examine a slight fraying on the fabric of his suit, a hole beginning to form on his upper thigh that you could just fit your pinky through. You remembered a time when his suit was made out of sweatpants and a dream.

He was 14 when he first started all of this. When you were 14, you were stressing over high school essays and alien invasions. You couldn't help but think that maybe he'd lost his youth to this thing. This thing that brought you together.

Spider-Man who, back then, was really a kid. He'd had to grow into it. You couldn't imagine having to grow into that. "Well, that's enough about my holiday plans. What about you?" Peter prepares to answer, then deflates. "What's up?"

He bites his bottom lip, "I don't... have any."

Your heart sinks, "What? Why not?"

"No, no, it's fine. I'll probably be out on patrol making sure everybody else is having a safe, criminal-free winter break."

Sliding off the counter, you come to stand in front of Peter with your arms folded, "Absolutely not."

"Okay, before you say anything-"

"It's Christmas, Peter! You're supposed to take time off! Be with friends and family. If you never take a break, you'll wear yourself out."

"Just hear me out-"

"No! I won't have it. You're not the only hero in New York. You're taking Christmas off. I don't care if I have to stuff you in a carry-on and take you with me but you will not be working-"

One hand clamps around the back of your head and the other silences you, turning your complaints into mush, "If you would let me finish..." you huff indignantly against his hand, "you'd know that a friend of mine is throwing a Christmas party and I was invited. There. I have plans."

Your face softens. "Really?" You ask, but the sound is muffled and it comes out more like, "Will-ee?"

Peter laughs, hand slipping from your mouth, "Really. I'll at least take a few hours off. Maybe more if I fall into a food coma."

Peter's other hand is still cradling your head, but you don't bring it to his attention. "You promise? I won't have to fly back early and check up on you, will I? 'Cause I'll do it."

"I wouldn't stop you." You glower, making Peter's mask eyes squint with amusement, "I promise."

"Sometimes I think you like making me worry over you."

"Would you believe me if I said that I'm just this awful all the time?"

"Yes, but that would make me worry even more."

The hand at your neck gently curls around the side of your throat, Peter's thumb angling your chin up to his own. The brush of it makes you tremble just slightly.

Was he trying to make you dissolve into a puddle?

"I'll be okay. Just... come back to the city, will ya? Don't fall in love with Miami."

You place one of your hands over the hand on your throat. The other hovers somewhere near his knee on the countertop, unsure of yourself. When you admire his exposed mouth, you think of Peter. Parker.

You remember you hadn't actually talked about that since it happened. It was Peter's intention to skirt around Parker, regardless of how certain you were that they were the same person. It was all in jest, sure, but some small part of you (some incredibly small, minuscule, microscopic part of you) wondered if your reporter brain just fit the two pieces together because it wanted them to fit.

Perhaps he wasn't Peter Parker. Perhaps this really was all a coincidence, and perhaps aliens didn't fall from the sky and gods didn't save the world.

You wouldn't push him on it. You wouldn't look into it either, because reporter brain be damned. You cared more about the Peter you knew than the Peter you didn't.

You smile up at him, "How could I? Miami doesn't have you."

"Nice to see you could finally make it, kiddo." Jillian is grinning at you when you arrive, her baby tucked at her hip and her wife entertaining the little monster over her shoulder. She sees the winded look on your face and immediately motions you over, pressing a hand to your cheek, "Did you crawl out of a snowdrift? You're freezing!"

You lean into it, chasing the warmth in hopes that it would restore some feeling to your skin, "The storm's getting awful out there."

"Came outta nowhere, didn't it?" Jillian's wife snorts, booping the baby's nose. "We almost didn't risk coming with the little one, it was so bad."

Said little one looks perfectly warm wrapped up in her blanket, an envious sight as you shiver and shuck off your coat to hang. You would offer the kid a boop on the nose yourself, but with your fingers frozen solid around your offering—a plate of sugar cookies—you don't want to make her cry. You give her a smile instead.

"Oh, and would you believe it?" Jillian whispers, sidling up to you, primed for gossip, "We've got a real treat here tonight. Take a wild guess who decided to show up."

"Jonah's wife?"

Jillian cackles, "God no. The stalker."

As soon as she says the name, your eyes zero in on him.

He's wearing that plaid shirt again, but the collar and cuffs are all that peek out from underneath a wrinkly blue sweater. His hair is free and gelled back, revealing his nervous expression more clearly. Nursing a cup of apple cider, he just barely looks like he wants to be here. But then he catches your eye across the room.

And he waves.

"Oh my," Jillian teases, "you must've left quite the impression if he came all this way just to see you."

"He did not come just to see me." You reply in a hushed tone, but she laughs at you all the same.

"Sure. And that's not him heading over right now, even though he's been hugging the wall all night."

You jerk your head to where Parker was standing, and, sure enough, he's pursuing you.

You part from Jillian before she can get the chance to embarrass you (she accepts your cookies as payment), and so you all but jog to meet him halfway.

He doesn't get the chance to be polite before you're interrogating him, "Where did you go?"

"Uh... What?"

"At the gala. When I ran back inside the ballroom, I couldn't find you anywhere."

Peter's eyes slowly widen, "You went back inside?"

"Answer the question, please."

"Wh- I... I was there. You didn't see me?"

"No, I didn't."

"It got crazy after Fisk rushed the stage. I got swept up in the crowd. You must've missed me."

"Really? 'Cause I was with the crowd, you know. In front of the building? Where Fisk was giving his big speech about how he saved the day? I didn't see you anywhere."

Peter blinks, then gasps as if he'd just remembered something important, "You know what? That's right. I went to go find Harry. I wanted to make sure he was alright, and then I couldn't find you in the crowd so I just assumed... I'm sorry for leaving you back there all alone." You watch as he fumbles for something convincing, "I texted Spider-Man about it, though. He said you were safe."

You fold your arms, "...Is that all he said about me?"

"Well, that. And something about your conspiracy theory?"

"Conspiracy theory."

The topic change gets some of the tension in Peter's shoulders melting away, replaced with a smile faint enough to not pass as overtly smug. He waits for one of your co-workers to move out of earshot before continuing, "You think... I'm Spider-Man."

Your jaw tightens. You know that anyone would draw the same conclusions you did after that night. You also know that no matter how logical your reasoning is, you sound highly illogical when you admit to it out loud. If you brought up the same accusation to Jillian or Jameson, they'd both laugh you out of the office.

You have to stand your ground, though. If there was one thing you were learning about Peter, it was that he was easy to fluster, "And if I do?"

"I'm flattered, really, but I don't really have the hand-eye coordination."

You know it's bullshit. He should know you know it's bullshit. If it hadn't been for his quick thinking, you and Harry would've been trampled under the masses at the gala. It's bullshit and he's waiting for his checkmate that will never come.

You do not give it a second thought. You toss your phone at Peter's head.

And he catches it. Of course he does. He stops it mere inches from his face.

If anyone saw you try to give him a concussion, they don't come over to question you on it. "Can you..." Peter starts after a breath, a bit dazed, "...can you stop trying to hit me?"

You go to defend yourself because, at the very least, you hadn't meant to try to punch Peter—which meant it didn't count—when someone barrels right into you.

And, to prove you right twice in a row, Peter is quick to catch you. He scoops you up into his arms before you end up a reporter pancake on the floor. One of your co-workers, already blitzed off spiked eggnog, had bumped you on their way to the drinks table for what looked like the umpteenth time tonight, and didn't have enough marbles to apologize before bumping someone else.

Peter is careful in how he holds you. There's that unmistakable strength behind his grip, but also... he was gentle. He felt safe.

You don't make to escape just yet, all your bravado knocked right out of you. "Jesus, you okay?" His eyes dart over to your co-worker and a scowl turns his expression sour, "Jonah should put a cap on the drinks."

You feel more than embarrassed stumbling to your feet, even more so when Peter still coddles you after you're standing upright. "I'm fine. Thanks." Peter's looking at you, brows drawn together, with so much concern it makes that second thought from earlier come in hot with a sizable topping of shame, "Talk about instant karma."

Then it's gone. Peter laughs and... it sounds just like your Peter. Undeniably. You can't help but give in. For a fleeting moment, the question of secret identities has melted away and it's just the two of you, giggling about something silly.

You're ashamed enough to apologize for throwing your phone at his head when the laughter dies down. You succeed in stealing it back and lead him over to the windows, far away from any more drunken disasters, "It's alright. I've had worse thrown at me before."

You raise an eyebrow, "Oh? Like what?"

His voice catches in his throat at first, "A... carton of expired milk. High school bully, Flash Thompson. We were both on the same academic decathlon team but he never gave up on his dream of professional baseball."

"Flash Thompson? You mean, Silicon Valley, MIT grad, tech startup millionaire Flash Thompson?"

Peter winces, "The one and only."

You frown at the distant look on Peter's face, aware of some regret there at the mention of Flash. "You and Harry went to ESU together, right? Is that where you always wanted to go?"

Peter shakes his head, but a smile comes to his face regardless, "MIT was my first choice, actually. But... even with a scholarship, I just couldn't imagine leaving New York behind. So I stayed. Went to ESU. Helped my Aunt May with the mortgage on her first house since my... my uncle passed. And now I'm selling pictures of Spider-Man to pay my rent."

You can't help the way you soften. "I'm so sorry about your uncle, Peter. Your Aunt May is lucky to have you around."

His eyelids flutter closed for a breath, and his smile grows wider. If it were even possible. "I'm lucky to have her."

You stand there together in silence after that, but it feels more comfortable than before. All the scrutiny and speculation you'd come in with had faded away, and now you were left wondering more about Peter. His hopes, his dreams, his life before all of this. What would it have been like if he'd gone to MIT? Where would you be? Or Spider-Man?

Peter's eyes peel open, "So, what about you?"

"Oh. Well, I took a shine to my school newspaper. After... everything in 2012, I knew the world would never be the same. So I had dreams of becoming a journalist, covering the street, being the first on the scene. Took my ass to college on part-time jobs and a dream, and interned at nearly every newspaper in the city before Jameson gave me a shot here. As much as I can't stand the way he talks about Spidey... he's not that bad of a guy. All things considered."

Peter agrees, "He did hire you, so..."

"Yeah, well," you lean your cheek against the window, glass cooling your blush, "At least Spidey doesn't hold it against me... but, I have to ask: why the Bugle? I mean, with photos like yours, you should be fighting off every publication in the city. Instead you turn in these... absolute masterpieces, freelancing, for a guy who can't even give you due credit, and you only stop by for a paycheck."

Peter looks to the window, the wind howling over a crooner's cover of Santa Baby. The storm was still raging on outside, and you dreaded the thought of having to walk through it to get back home. The taxis wouldn't have much luck either from the looks of it. "I... like my job, but it's not what I wanna do forever. I don't care about fame or Pulitzer prizes. It's always been about taking care of me and my Aunt May, and Jameson is a lot of things but he's always understood that. He pays me enough that I can have a place of my own and a little leftover for my aunt, and he doesn't ask questions.

"I don't need to be seen. And that's the whole point, isn't it?" His expression gradually warms as he recalls something, "It's not who's behind the lens that matters, but who's in front of it."

Your expression warms too, "I can see why Spidey likes you."

A notification disturbs the moment. Raising a finger at Peter, you check the latest notification... and your stomach drops.

Peter takes a step forward, sensing the change in atmosphere, "What? What is it?"

"My flight's been cancelled. I was leaving tomorrow for Miami but the storm..."

"Oh. Man, I'm sorry."

"I should've left sooner, I should've left when my family..." You lose the motivation to even finish your sentence, feeling exhausted all at once, "It doesn't matter anymore. I'm stuck here for Christmas."

Peter stuffs his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet as he searches for something to say. You're about to tell him not to worry about it when he speaks up, "You know," he starts, the uncertainty in his voice giving you pause, "it's no... Miami, but my aunt throws this Christmas party every year? For Christmas Eve. We invite a few friends over for dinner. She'd love it if you came."

"Oh, Peter, that's sweet but... I don't really want to intrude on a friend thing-"

"No, no, it's okay! Anyone can come. It'll just be my aunt, some of her co-workers from F.E.A.S.T., a few of my friends, my ex-girlfriend-"

"Your- what?"

"Oh. Well, I mean, we were friends before we dated. Well... technically? She sort of just... hung around me and Ned in high school and then we started dating for a while but then we broke up in university. But we stayed friends. Became better friends, actually. So, she's my ex but also a really good friend. I promise it's not weird or anything. She's super cool about it. And I am too! Her name's MJ. I think you'll like her."

You stare at Peter. You think you see a bead of sweat twinkle on his forehead underneath the Christmas lights above.

He insists that you're welcome to come, and staying home alone for Christmas would be pretty hypocritical after your argument with Spider-Man.

Spider-Man.

"...and Spider-Man will be there."

Spider-Man?

You abruptly lock eyes with Peter. "Spider-Man?"

Peter's smile is tight-lipped, "Yeah." His voice cracks. "I mean, he's just stopping by real quick, but I invited him. He might not come. But... he also might."

Was this the friend of his throwing a Christmas party? Why in the world would Peter (Parker) invite you to the same party Spider-Man would be at, unless he could stand in the same room as him at the exact same time? There'd be no other way to convince you otherwise, and you'd be forced to accept that they really were two completely different people.

Yeah, right.

You'd go to this party and suss it out for yourself.

And it wouldn't hurt, would it? Peter was nice, if not the most awkward person you've ever met. To offer you a place at his aunt's Christmas dinner not long after hurling an object at his head was a sign of true Christmas spirit. You could learn a thing or two from him, "Okay. You've convinced me. What's your number? You can text me the address."

Peter blanks for a moment, "Um... yeah, um..." You watch him flounder, growing increasingly suspicious, "Can I see your phone?"

You drop your phone in his hand. His fingers move quickly across the keyboard before returning it to you. Peter Parker is now in your contacts. You check the number against Spidey's but there isn't a match. "Thanks," you glance at his wobbly smile, "I sent you a text."

Peter gestures behind him, "Oh, cool, awesome. Will you excuse me for a sec? I gotta use the restroom." And he doesn't wait for you to affirm before he's rushing down the hall and out of sight.

A full minute passes before you receive a text back from Peter.

15 Amfan Ave Forest Hills, NY 11375 7pm :) Hope you can make it! He never shuts up about you *I *shut

Hm.

So... I hear you're throwing things at people now Who told you that? You lose one phone, then you try to bludgeon an innocent man with another. I should lock you up and throw away the key I wasn't trying to bludgeon him, because I knew he'd be perfectly *fine*. And he helped me prove a point Which was... That the chances of him being you are more likely than either of you would have me to believe Could it be that you just have a thing for attractive, masked men? That is That is irrelevant to the conversation HA you so do Literally nothing to do with anything I just said It's okay. The mask makes it really easy to project one's ideal man onto me. Or so I've learned through Twitter I'm not projecting *anything* onto you Do you picture Ryan Reynolds when you talk to me? It's okay if you do Peter, shut up Maybe someone more boyish like Timothy chalet Timothee Chalet Timothee Chalamett I'd say you just like hearing yourself talk but this is a textual conversation I like that we can talk like this :) I like it too :) What about Tom Holland? We've got the same jaw If you think me accusing you of being Parker is me projecting a handsome man onto you, I can only assume you think he's hot. Which means I can assume you have a thing for him. Because I can also make things up Like Batman and Clark Kent? Are you saying Parker is the Clark Kent in our fictional relationship? More like Superman and Jimmy Olsen And you're my Lois Lane? ... Goodnight, Peter

Aunt May's home is beautiful. There's a lovingly sculpted garden out front that has since given into the snow, but you can tell it's a sight in the spring. For now, the Christmas garland lining the doorframe—wrapped in a rope of rainbow lights—brightens up the porch. As does the collection of little striped sweater-wearing gnomes gathered around the front door.

There's a commotion of voices behind it as you approach. You shift your plate into one hand, pressing the doorbell with the other, and the voices get louder. You swallow down your nerves when the door is ripped open by a stranger.

The stranger in question is staring out into the dark at you like they weren't expecting you. Your eyes quickly dart to the plaque beside the door and see a bold "15" emblazoned there. Nope. This is the house.

Their eyes zero in on the plate in your hand. Smiling, they open the door wide and step back, "Sweet! Peter said you'd bring dessert."

You kick the snow off your boots before stepping inside. The stranger shuts the door behind you before any more of the cold could get in. "It's peppermint bark," you explain, returning a smile of your own, "but I hear May's making a cake."

"May and Peter. May's great with everything but the oven- don't tell her I said that. I'm Ned, by the way." Ned holds his hand out for a shake.

Ned is really talkative, you find out. He holds your peppermint bark as you undo your boots and coat at the door, rattling off about how Peter and he had been friends at Midtown. He tells you about his job as a cybersecurity specialist, a job he'd naturally floated toward after graduating from MIT, and how he'd stayed with the Parkers for a few months after moving back to New York. It's how he knows that the downstairs bathroom door won't close unless you lift up when you shut it. You only remember about half of what he says by the time you get to the living room.

There are considerably fewer people than you expected, one of which makes his way over the minute you catch his eye.

"Hey," Harry grins. Unlike the nice suit he'd worn to the gala, he's dressed down in jeans and an ugly sweater with "I've been naughty" printed in big letters across the front, looking a lot less tense than when you'd first seen him, "Fancy seeing you here."

"I could say the same." You can't help but ask, "Don't the Osborns host Christmas Eve at Oscorp tower every year?"

Harry's good mood fizzles out right before your eyes. You feel pretty awful about it. "Uh, yeah. Norman does. But it's more business than anything, so I dipped. I'd rather be here watching Pete fuck up a perfectly good cake."

"I heard that!" Peter's voice calls from a room away.

Harry's good mood returns, "Well, it's good to see you at the annual Parker holiday celebration. And I'll forgive you for poking into my family business if you hand over those treats."

Bashful, you let Ned pass the plate into your hands before passing it to Harry, "Sorry. Reporter brain."

Harry's nose scrunches up, "Don't apologize. Unless these taste like ass."

"I promise they taste better than ass."

"Good enough," he backs away, turning his head to shout down the hall, "Peter! Get in here already!"

When the redhead is immersed in a game of UNO, you turn to Ned, "And that doesn't... feel weird? Having Harry Osborn at family dinner?"

"There are weirder things about Peter. Speak of the devil."

The ugly sweater is the first thing you notice. A companion to Harry's, it is nearly the exact same design, except for the "I've been nice" where the "I've been naughty" had been. He's dusting his hands of something when he comes around the corner. His eyes soften when he sees you with Ned, "Hey, you came." He says in a much too gentle voice. Harry and his opponents nearly drown him out with their cheers and boos.

Unlike at the office party, you notice, Peter's hair isn't tamed by hat nor hair gel. Instead, it curls incessantly around his flushed cheeks. He looked like a damn Keebler elf. It was frustratingly adorable. "Of course. I heard there'd be cake."

"How is that cake, Peter?" Ned pulls on a piece of the ugly sweater as he walks by, and you realize that some of the red had been singed. You follow Peter's frantic gaze from the hole to you.

"This was unrelated to the cake."

"You burned something else?"

"No! One of the stockings fell into the fireplace and I-" Peter trails off as you begin to smile, "you don't get to laugh at me if you didn't bring sweets."

"I did! Harry stole them." You nod over to the coffee table where the group is devouring your peppermint bark with reckless abandon. At least you knew they didn't taste like ass. Peter rushes over to steal the plate before they could polish off the last handful, much to their protest.

"Dinner's almost ready, I swear. You've met Ned, uh, Harry..." Peter scans the group, using his free hand to point out people, "...that's Yolanda, Katie, Lexie, Eduardo: all May's friends. May's in the kitchen but I'd stay out of her way until the ham comes out unharmed."

You notice that out of everyone gathered in the house, he does not mention his ex-girlfriend. "And MJ?"

You wait for an answer. Instead, something heavy shakes the house from above. It doesn't sound like it came from outside, but rather somewhere in the house. Not quite above your head. Weirdly enough, only you seem to be concerned about it.

Peter just glances at the ceiling, "And MJ."

MJ is tossing an empty storage bin to the side when you crawl up through the floor behind Peter. She's crouched on the balls of her feet, shoulders slouched, the sharp bones of her back poking through her tight graphic tee. Her head snaps toward you both when she hears you grunt up the last rung of the ladder. Her eyes narrow on you, then Peter, "I can't find it."

Peter offers you a hand to hoist you further into the attic, "Did you check the-"

"Yes. And I checked the one next to it. And the one next to that."

You look at Peter for an explanation, but he doesn't provide you with one. He walks over to where MJ has now fallen back on her ass, rifling through one of the bins. His mouth twists to the side. "Maybe she meant the box next to her old CDs?"

"There's like 15 boxes in here, Peter."

Off to the side of the room, where MJ was currently facing the mysterious dilemma, were about nine—not 15—storage bins in disarray. Two were off to the side, emptied of their contents: there were piles of men's clothes, women's clothes, baby blankets, and more. The third box that MJ was poring over had Halloween decorations in it.

"Well, you're getting close." Peter encourages.

The way MJ grumbles resentfully has you squirming. As time ticked on, your presence unannounced, you were starting to feel like an intruder. You clear your throat and MJ looks over at you for the second time, "Maybe I could help?" You offer.

At this, MJ brightens. "Finally! Someone cares about my plight. I don't know you, do I?"

You crawl over to where MJ is sitting and Peter gestures to you, "MJ, I told you about the reporter from the Bugle, right?" You give your name for good measure, and MJ's eyebrows raise. She gives a quick, indecipherable look to Peter. He returns it. Then she examines you.

After a moment, she dusts her hand off on her khakis and holds it out for you to shake, "Michelle Jones. Call me MJ." You repeat her nickname warmly. "Peter never shuts up about you."

Peter chokes on his spit.

"He... he does?"

MJ continues shaking your hand for longer than necessary, smiling secretively now, "Oh, yeah. He's got your blog bookmarked too. Post notifs for your Twitter, the works." You cut your eyes to Peter, appalled that he'd ratted you out to someone else, but MJ is quick, "I figured it out on my own ages ago."

"Is it really that obvious it's me?"

"No." And she smiles wider.

Peter is about to cut in with something when a woman's voice rings out, shrill and clear despite two layers of flooring in between you. He's needed with the ham. He looks between you and MJ, reluctant, "Look, if you can't find it-"

"We will." MJ's reply is confident, leaving no room for failure. You feel a little pressure applied to "we".

Peter nods. He mouths an apology at you and skitters out of the attic.

Left alone with MJ, you notice that she is staring at you now. You feel like you've been left alone with an oracle, prepared for your innermost being to be laid bare before you: past, present, and future. She looks like the type to know what makes people tick.

"What are you looking for?" You try to break the silence, though your voice comes out meeker than you'd have liked.

She doesn't look away from you as her fingers grip the container in between her legs, "Uncle Ben's favorite Christmas sweater. All I know is it has a reindeer holding a beer on the front."

Reinbeer. You almost laugh at it. You imagine it would tickle an uncle pink too. "Then I'll get to looking."

You've only just crawled over to a bin of your own when MJ asks you outright, "You like Peter, right?"

Your hand stills as it pries the top off. You feel her eyes burning into your back. "He's... nice, yeah."

You can hear how unimpressed she is with that, "I don't know if it's obvious, but Peter isn't exactly popular." You think that's kind of a cruel thing to say about someone you consider a friend, but MJ keeps going, "All he had was Ned back at Midtown. And me, eventually. I've known him since high school and he's made maybe a handful of friends, maybe less. The last time he invited someone new to Christmas dinner was Harry."

And that had been at least a few years, judging by how long Harry had been away at Oxford.

But why was she telling you this?

"He likes you." You yelp when you realize MJ's voice has gotten close. You turn, and she's kneeling behind you with no interest in your fear. "But do you like him?"

In her hands is a faded, toy Iron Man mask. "I... I think he's nice. I mean kind," you correct yourself when MJ frowns, "but I... I don't really know him. I mean, I don't think I do. I've only actually spoken to him twice and one of those times, there was a gun involved. Everything I know about him is through his pictures and Spidey, and I trust Spidey. So, I trust Peter."

"And Spider-Man?"

"What?"

"Do you like Spider-Man?"

You swallow. Like didn't really sum up how you felt about him. He was a hero, an inspiration, a friend, and also... yeah, you felt something more there too.

You think about why she would ask. Why it would have anything to do with you liking Peter or not. You look at her and it feels like she hasn't really asked you that different of a question at all. Your answer is much more definitive this time, "I do. I like him more than I know what to do with."

MJ leans back on her haunches. She appraises you, "He's pretty great, isn't he?" Her tone is considerably softer.

"Yeah. He really is." You smile.

MJ hands the mask to you and you take it, admiring the chips in its paint and the lovingly worn edges. She scoots between you and the bin you'd been looking into and pops the lid off. Almost immediately, she swears in relief. Sitting folded on top is the most gaudy sweater you've ever seen. A deformed reindeer is embroidered on the front, and sure enough, holds a can of beer in its hoof. When MJ shakes it out, little specks of dust fly everywhere.

This, too, she hands to you. You look at her in bewilderment. "You'll wanna make a good first impression with May," she advises, "just be prepared for the water works."

And there are water works.

May throws her arms around your neck and just about sobs her thanks to you, squishing the sweater between your chests. You note that she smells like candy canes. When she draws back, her glasses are all askew, "And I'm so glad you could make it! Peter wouldn't shut up about you. Isn't that right, Petey?"

Peter's eye twitches. "I'm gonna set the table. Ned, you wanna set the table?" And he scoots past you and May without waiting for a response.

"Don't mind him, he gets testy when he's cooking. Did Petey give you the tour?" You shake your head and May kisses her teeth in Peter's direction, "Okay, this is the kitchen, around the corner here is the dining room. You've seen the living room and the attic. The bathroom is by the front door, and the bedrooms are upstairs. If someone's in the bathroom down here, do not use the bathroom by the stairs. That's Ned's favorite when he gets bubbly guts, and he will get bubbly guts."

Ned complains under his breath as he walks by.

"If you need somewhere to get away from the festivities for a bit, backyard's that way and my room's upstairs, first door to the left. All good?" She pets your shoulder. Then, she looks down at the sweater still in your hands and takes it from you, tenderly. "I'm gonna go change into this and then dinner is served. Help yourself to anything, okay?"

May leaves you in the kitchen with that. Around the corner, Peter and Ned are fussing over where to put the ham and sides. Around the other corner, Harry is drunkenly singing Christmas carols with Yolanda. MJ watches on from the corner of the room, recording on her phone. She catches your eye and mouths, "For blackmail."

You peek into the dining room and Peter is worrying over one of the chairs. You can hear Ned scold him, "Sit next to them. You don't wanna talk over the ham. It'll kill the mood."

"But how do I... subtly get them to sit in this chair and not next to MJ or something?"

"Tell MJ not to sit next to them."

"But what if-" You jolt a little when Peter suddenly spots you eavesdropping. He straightens up with a death grip on the chair he'd been messing with, "Hey! Hi. This is your chair by the way." And he tops it all off with a smile.

It's warm in May's home.

You don't even register the cold at first. You do register Harry's frenzy, the way he grabs far more napkins than he needs to, pressing them to your stomach where the majority of his spilled drink had gone. When you finally do comprehend what just happened, you place your hands over his, "How long have you been plotting your revenge?"

Harry is red-faced. He lets you hold the napkins there while May rushes to find a towel, "Sorry. I wasn't looking where I was- sorry."

You don't get to dwell on the déjà vu of it all. May is ushering you up the stairs with a beach towel pressed to your front, muttering about how she'll have to put Harry on ginger ale for the rest of the night. She guides you into what you're certain is Peter's old bedroom.

It's been cleaned out, and most of his personal belongings must be at his own place, but there are still old posters on the wall, and a calendar dated in April, two years ago. His bed is ruffled like he'd slept overnight. It's neat, and looks like it usually is neat, but there are traces of him everywhere, like picture frames with Peter and May and a man you don't recognize.

"Peter probably has something here you can wear. It's all stuff from college." She digs through the top drawer of his dresser, finally stopping on a sweatshirt with Empire State University in college block across the chest. "Here! You think this'll fit?"

She stretches it out and you nod, thankful, "Yeah, thank you so much, May."

She smiles, "Okay. Bathroom's across the hall if you need to wash off. I can run your shirt through a wash while you're here if you'd like. Just let me know, okay?"

May is, perhaps, the sweetest woman on earth. She leaves you with a thumbs up and shuts the door behind you, reminding you to lock it after she leaves.

Your shirt had absorbed most of the drink, and you're relatively unscathed besides some sticky residue. You wipe at your stomach with the towel she'd given you and slip Peter's sweater on. It feels... odd, wearing it. It smells like May's house with little traces of Peter.

Your eyes drift back to the picture frames.

One such frame sits on top of the dresser, a photo of Peter and the man who you assume is Uncle Ben. He holds Peter in a headlock but they're both smiling at the camera. You smile too, tracing a finger around the wooden edges.

Another picture is of Peter and MJ and Ned, standing outside of MIT with their fingers pointing at the school. Another is of Peter and MJ sharing cotton candy at Coney. Another is of Peter as a little boy, with two people flanking his side that you do not know. You realize you'd never asked about Peter's parents.

There are other photos of him around that age with May and Ben, and as you piece together what feels like an undoubtedly tragic story, you catch something outside the window.

A person. Hanging onto the side of the house.

Your heart hammers in your chest as a hand pushes the window up, and then, "Did I scare you?" Spider-Man perches on the sill with what you can imagine is a shit-eating grin.

You stomp over to the window and shove at his shoulder, but he doesn't budge in the slightest, "You almost gave me a heart attack! Were you watching me get dressed?"

The mask's eyes blow open, "What? No! I swear I just got here."

"Do you ever use the front door?"

"Not if I can help it," he crawls in, staying planted by the window, "don't tell me you're snooping through Parker's things."

"I was just... looking. At the pictures. And Harry Osborn spilled his drink all over me so I had to borrow Parker's shirt."

"Hm. ESU looks good on you."

You look up at Peter, who keeps his hands tucked behind his back, leaning against the wall by the window. "Aren't you gonna say hi to the party? Make Parker look cool?"

"Eventually. Maybe. Might just watch from afar."

"No, nuh-uh. You said you had holiday plans and that you were going to a party. That doesn't count if you're watching from afar."

Peter's head sways to the side, "I never said this was the party I was going to."

"Is there another?"

"Well... maybe. Maybe not."

"Peter-" You whine, but he cuts you off.

"I'm not a party guy! Sue me."

"Well, then Parker's got you beat two for two. Unless you're lying, since I haven't given up on my conspiracy theory."

Peter presses himself off the wall, sauntering toward you in a zig-zag. Your eyes follow him, back and forth, back and forth, until he's a step or two away. His hand reaches out to play with one of your sleeves, its seams resewn with mismatched thread, "Leaving a party as Peter Parker to come back as Spider-Man. Give Parker some credit. That's the kind of plan you come up with in high school."

You shrug, trying not to act like Peter playing with your sleeve wasn't giving you goosebumps. "You never know."

Peter nods, "Yeah, you're right. I mean, he was really excited to see you."

"Oh yeah?" You swallow.

"Yeah. Was kind of pathetic, actually."

Peter shoots a web at the ceiling and twists, catching the web between his feet so he could hang upside down. The suddenness makes you stumble back with a breathless laugh, "That's not a very nice thing to say about a friend."

"Weren't you the one who said he'd be shaking and crying if you yelled at him?"

You sigh, "I was... I was teasing you."

"Because I'm Peter Parker."

He says it matter of fact. You stare at him, "Yeah," you whisper, "that's right."

He pulls himself up the web until he's face to face with you, "Then that wouldn't be very nice to say to a friend, would it?"

"No, it wouldn't. If you were Peter Parker, I guess I'd have to apologize to you."

"Yeah? How?"

You breathe deep. Everyone is still laughing downstairs. You become hyper-aware of the fact that you hadn't locked the door. At any moment, someone could walk in and...

Peter waits, curious.

Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw, pressing into the fabric of his mask, feeling over the ridges where black lines broke red. You know what you want to do. And you also know that there is no going back if you do it.

Your fingers reach the place where the mask meets the rest of his suit. Hooking two fingers under the fabric, you pull.

Your fingernails trace over the curve of his Adam's apple as it bobs, over the jut of his chin. Peter's breath is heaving. One of his hands releases its grip on the web and you see it glide toward yours out of the corner of your eye. You just feel the skin of his bottom lip under your finger when you realize how this might look. What he might think you're trying to do.

Mask in hand, questions of his identity hanging in the air, your curiosity and his vulnerability. You release the mask, awash with worry. You want to get it out before there's any misunderstanding, but as your hand drifts back to yourself, his catches it. You would give anything to know what he's thinking right now.

Peter lets your fingers fall. Silently, he drags the mask over the tip of his nose and leaves it resting there. An invitation. "I trust you." He promises. And kisses you.

He has to stretch a little to reach you. You understand this and press closer, taking the back of his head in your hands and holding it steady for you, but you know you're trembling. You curse yourself for how much your body reacts to this, how uncool you must look, how you shake with all the excitement and terror of this. You kiss him and feel silly about how you claimed to know his lips so well before now. That was nothing.

This is everything. So many things. Each time you go back in for more, you lock away some new little detail about him.

Peter places a hand against your neck and tugs you even closer, but the momentum makes him swing a little bit so his nose bumps your chin. You're too stiff to laugh, but he does, "Sorry," his voice is raspy, "this looked cooler in my head."

You lean into him, dizzied, "Was this... did you plan for me to kiss you? When you got up there?"

"I've wanted to kiss you plenty of ways." Peter's admission is followed by a sigh. He presses a hand to your chest and nudges you back a step before he's dropping to his feet and advancing upon you once more, bumping you against the dresser as the picture frames rattle. Your fingers sneak under his mask at the back of his head so they can sink into his silky hair.

He probably kisses you a hundred more times after that. Every kiss you think might be the last, but then you feel a tug in your chest and go in for one more. An itch that no scratch can soothe.

Peter's mask starts to slip and you feel one of his hands leave your waist to fix it, but the warmth your fingers had snuggled into disappears and-

You keep your eyes screwed shut, "Peter." You gasp against his mouth. Your fingers twitch in his hair, finding no resistance.

"It's okay," he nudges your nose with his, still pressing kisses to the corner of your mouth, "it's okay."

"But-"

"Don't you wanna know if you were right?"

You squeak when his lips find the underside of your jaw, "I don't need- you don't need to-"

"You're always right," Peter interrupts you, kissing down your neck, "I was never fooling you. You're so smart, you know that?"

"Peter." You say his name with no real plans for it to do anything, letting your head fall back.

"Please." He says back. Urging.

You lift your head, heart hammering away, and meet the eyes of Peter Parker.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker scenarios #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman scenarios #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #tom holland peter parker #marvel #mjwrites #if you see any mistakes in this no u didn't #this has gone through a few revisions and uh. i'm sleeby #pp; small favor

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