#Peter Parker is a hero that is over shadowed from Spider-Man | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hellsburners · 1 year ago

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yellow sunrise

summary: you and peter take things to the next step. pairing: teacher!peter parker x librarian!male reader word count: 2.8k warnings: fluff, a bit of angst, eventual smut, protected sex, top!peter, bottom!reader, tears were shed you guest how, peter is a good boyfriend..kinda? a/n: part 2 to orange juice^^

masterlist | more peter parker

The past few weeks have been very good. Peter would occasionally visit you in the library with packed lunch, you tried to do the same but cooking was never really your strong suit. You would spend lunches eating together at the library talking about stuff going around the school, Mayday, and the library. He also took you to a new science museum in Brooklyn, the two of you stood in awe as you saw new advances in science and technology.

Mrs. Diaz, the head librarian, took note of your good performance for the past months and has said that she will give a good word for your promotion. You and Peter went out on a drink that night to celebrate. You have also stayed in touch with Mayday, the three of you would watch movies together, go to parks, and it was like you were bing included in their small family.

On the way home from work, you were carrying an Ikea bag full of art materials since the library department settled on joining in with halloween decorations. You planned on cutting up colored paper into some decor. It was cold tonight, so cold that you zipped your jacket over your two seaters as you went to a bodega to grab a sandwich for dinner. The old man in the cashier took your order and you gave him 6 dollars in return. The heavy blue bag sinking into your skin makes it hurt a little. A small TV, like the box ones with antenna, near the cash register was playing the news.

BREAKING NEWS: Multiple assailants attack a bank in Queens. The villains known as The Sinister Six attacked a local bank seeking the presence of the web-slinging hero, Spider-man. The assailants are identified by their aliases, Boomerang, Beetle, Shocker, Overdrive, and Speed Demon. Four hostages were seen in the premises but a final number has not been confirmed.

The old man gave you the sandwich and you went hurrying to your next block. A few corners from the bodega you saw smoke billowing in the street corner to your place. The beetle flying with her pink wings as Spider-man came swinging after her. A crowd of people surrounded the bank, police on hold to barricade them. You knew how dangerous this was but you’ve never seen Spider-man in person, and there he was.

Spider-man was wounded by sharp boomerangs that flew across the sky. There were five villains against one Spider-man. You saw the hostages leave the bank from Spider-man distracting the criminal, some were wounded and coughing from the smoke. Your mind went to Peter, is he safe? You tried to dial for his number but no one answered. Spider-man took the Sinister Six one by one, the crowd cheered for him.

With worry dragging on your foot you hurried home. You kept on dialing for Peter’s phone, still no answer. In your peripheral you could see a shadow creeping up behind you. You tried to walk faster but the man’s hand was already on your shoulder. “Nice phone you got there kiddo,” the masked man said. Your heart raced, he was holding a short kitchen knife. “Come on now, give it away or else I’ll hurt ‘ya!” the man swung his knife at you but you quickly fell back. You ran yelling for help as he stood up to run after you.

“You know, I was on my way home from the bank earlier but I heard some yelling and then I see you Bernard,” the man perched in a streetlamp yelled. A masked man in red and blue, Spider-man. He flicked his wrists and webs stuck to the thief’s arms binding them together. He swung down and bound the thief’s legs too. He wrapped him in webs and stuck him to the pole. Spider-man picked your phone from the man’s pocket and gave it to you.

“You saved my life,” you said.

“Yeah, just your friendly neighborhood Spider-man,” You couldn’t help but stand in awe. “By the way, this street gets a little dark at night, prone to pickpockets so I suggest you go through the other street it's safer.”

You were speechless in his presence but you managed to utter another thank you. Spider-man made sure the man was stuck to the pole and swung again. You rushed to your apartment, no more stops, you promised. Your phone rang the moment you got inside, it was Peter.

“Peter! Oh my god I was so worried, are you okay?” you put your stuff down, unzipping your jacket afterwards.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry I couldn’t pick up your phone. I was doing some laundry,” you let out a sigh of relief. “How about you, are you okay? I saw the news.”

“Well, I almost got robbed. But Spider-man saved my life!” you could hear sirens outside your winds and in Peter’s, his being a bit louder. “Are you outside?”

“Oh, I just got in. Have you eaten?” he said, diverting the topic. Your eyes glanced at the paper bag in your bag, the contents flattened, some sauce leaking through the paper.

“Well, my sandwich got smushed so I’ll try to salvage what's left of it.” he laughs.

“I’m gonna call you later, I promised Mayday I’ll let her show me her new drawings from art class,” you felt relieved knowing he gets to talk to her. Whenever Mayday is even mentioned in conversation a weight would leave his shoulders.

✎𓇢𓆸

You snuggled up in bed wearing a worn out shirt and gym shorts. You were reading a book, your eyes weighing in as you turn a new page. Your phone rings, Peter was a man of his word. You pick up the phone, Peter says he was just getting into bed as well. He groans as you hear him get down in the soft cotton sheets.

“Sorry, did I bother you?” he said. You assured that he didn’t since you love hearing his voice, especially before sleep. It was comforting. “So, how was this Spider-man? Did you finally feel like you met the man of your dreams?” he says jokingly.

“We actually kissed as he went down on his webs. It was very romantic,” you retort.

“Is that so?” he says, his brows raised. He was being playful. “That's all you did? Next time let me watch.”

“Okay, you voyeur,” you chuckle. “Snooping around me and Spider-man.” you gave him a bossy tone. You both laugh from the sheer childishness of your conversation.

“You know what I want?” his voice lowers to a gravelly hoarse whisper, like a morning voice. “I want whatever Spider-man is having.” You giggled. Peter and you have been tip-toeing on taking things to the next level. You’ve made out before, gotten to some touching, once you even straddled him while making out, but nothing more than that. Peter would always seem to restrain himself.

“You want to get hurt too? Didn’t know you had that side in you, Parker,” you hear Peter groan as he changes positions in bed.

“Would you,” Peter muttered, his voice was shaky, like he was just caught in a lie. Blood rushed through your veins. Whatever scared Peter scared you too. “Would you want to stay with me tomorrow night? I don’t know, I felt like it was time.”

Oh.

He went there, you thought. You weren’t in a rush, in a way you felt scared that doing this would change the dynamic you two had. From being flirty coworkers to something more serious. You bit your lip, thinking about the words that came out of Peter’s mouth. “No pressure of course. I’ll move at whatever pace is most comfortable for the both of us.” he said with a voice that you felt was his sincerest.

“I’d love to. I’m excited actually,” Peter was shocked with your answer, he said he was happy and would make sure you were comfortable.

✎𓇢𓆸

Peter told you to come by his apartment by 9pm since the faculty had its quarterly meeting and would probably finish late. He also said that you should wait for his text before you came, so as not to spoil the surprise, whatever that meant. So you sat on your couch, dressed for the occasion. You made sure everything was good, you looked presentable, showered, flossed and brushed your teeth, you even used your more expensive perfume a friend gave you for your birthday. You looked at the clock ticking and moving its hand at you.

For what felt like forever the clock went from 6pm to 7pm.

And then 8pm.

Then 9pm.

Then it was 11:30pm. No text. No call. Nothing.

You started to feel shame, like someone had undressed you in public, or took away your shoelaces and tied them up together. It was embarrassing, you felt like this was bound to happen. That Peter was bound to disappoint you somehow. That giddy feeling was temporary and it was pulled under you like a rug, hitting your ass on the hardwood floor like an idiot.

Thud!

You went on your feet to check the loud sound that hit your window. You took a kitchen knife and slowly crept your way to the window. The window was open, the wind blowing on the curtains hiding the shadowy figure creeping on you. You heard the figure groan. You slowly saw the man come in. Clad in blue and red spandex, the lean man entered your home. He was unmasked, a man in his 30’s with a slight stubble, his brown hair a tousled mess.

“Peter?”

He looked at you with his large brown eyes. His face had a light cut on his cheek. His gait was weak the way he walked towards you. You couldn’t fathom whatever was in front of you. Your chest heaves from thinking. How long has he been doing this? Is that why—

“Hey, I know what you think,” he gestures for you to calm down.

“You have no idea of what I’m thinking about right now.”

“Just put the knife down and we can talk. Can we talk?” the both of you sat down on your small dining set, your chairs parallel one another. “I’m sorry I was late and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

You made the calculations in your head, Spider-man has been a hero of the city for 17 years. Peter has been doing this for that long? You stared at him speechless. He looked at you with the same sad puppy eyes he would always do, his brows raised and furrowed, his bottom lip protruded a bit, his shoulders relaxed. “I didn’t want to risk your safety.”

“But why show me now?”

“Well, to be honest, I think I got hit pretty well so I couldn’t swing back home.” he smiled. “But most importantly I wanted you to know. So you have the option to stay or to go.”

“Why would I do that?” you said, your arms crossed, your brows furrowed with confusion. Peter looked down on his hands on the table. You could see tears forming under his eyelashes. “Why would you make me choose?” You stood up and took his hands, you held them in your palms, warm and calloused. He looked up at you. You take your thumb and wipe his tears. “I choose to say Pete, because I want to. You’ve been this city’s hero for years. And I’ve looked up to you most of my life. I know you’re capable of protecting the people of this city, but I want to be here to support you. Be the guy who takes care of Spider-man when he’s hurt and to make the man underneath the mask feel loved.”

Peter stood up, his body towering over you. He placed his hands on each side of your face, bending down to place his lips on yours. It was a tender kiss, tears falling from Peter’s face. You bring him to your bedroom, his arms wrapped around your waist. His gloved hands occasionally peered under the hem of your shirt touching bare skin. He tries to grab the zipper on his nape, he struggles a bit, the two of you laughing. You helped him unzip the suit. Your eyes wandered through the landscape of his back, wide and muscular, yet it also showed who he was when the city called. Scars left and right, some new, some old, and yellowish bruises around his ribs.

Peter, now only wearing his black boxers, sat down on the bed with you standing in between his thighs. He peppered your neck with kisses. He started to pull on the hem of your shirt, lifting it above your head. Your shorts and underwear came after. With his hands now placed on the back of your thighs, he gestures for you to straddle him. Doing as you’re told he starts to caress your ass, his large hands hugging them fully.

Peter pulls you back, his back on the bed while you towered on top of him. Your arms both at the side of his head supporting your weight. You could feel Peter’s erection stirring inside his underwear, you rub yourself on the hardness, his eyes fall back as he curses. “You’re unfair,” you said, pointing your eyes at his underwear. Peter smirked, pulling his underwear until it was at his ankles.

You started to stroke his cock while leaving kisses on his neck, your room filled with the sound of grunts and moans. You go down to your knees at the edge of the bed. You take his cock inside your mouth, you hadn’t realized it was the mouthful. Saliva coats his hardness while it goes in and out your mouth. Peter sits on the edge of the bed, his hands running through your hair.

“Fuck, you’re so good.” Peter moans.

“Language Mr. Parker,” you jokingly said before continuing your task. Peter’s noises began to become louder, the grip he had on your hair became tighter. He taps your shoulder, his chest heaving, you ease down releasing his wet cock. The head throbbing and red, white liquid already forming at the tip.

“Do you have condoms?” Peter asked. You stood up to take the condoms and the bottle of lube in your nightstand. Peter takes your hand and brings you to the bed, your positions now reversed, with your back to the bed while his body towers over you. He kisses you once more before he puts the condom on his dick, stroking it with a palm full of lube.

“You ready?” he whispered to your ear. You nod, he puts a lubed finger to your hole, preparing you for his erection. With a slow thrust of his hip he sheathes himself inside you. You both let out a loud groan. You take him to you, kissing him more to ease some of the sting. After your body has acclimated to the pressure, Peter starts to push his cock in and out of you, the pressure begins to turn into pleasure, your eyes welling with tears. Peter starts to suck on the skin on your neck, not enough to mark but enough to make you a whimpering mess under him. Peter’s hands find yours, your fingers intertwined as he places them beside you. His thrusts were deep, the strokes long, you felt so full of him, his body, his scent, his essence. Your body surged with pleasure.

He starts to stroke your cock, your arms now wrapped around his neck. Your mouths become slopier by the second. You tell him you were close, he tells you the same. With his thrusts becoming more erratic your muscles clench making your hole tighter. Peter groaned from the sudden tightness. Your arms wrapped tighter on his neck, his face on your ear letting out profanities. At the moment your moans, his hip and yours, gave out the same rhythm. The pleasure fills you up with intensity. The two of you at the same time called out for each other’s name as you climaxed.

✎𓇢𓆸

You woke up from the scorching heat of the sun on your bare skin, the room filled with yellow light. The window was open and Peter was gone. You stood up to take your shirt and your shorts, stretching your neck before getting a glass of water. In the dining table you saw a paper folded into a flower with a note next to it.

Had to go do something, duty calls (also because I stink). I didn't want to wake you because you looked so peaceful,but I will see you later I promise. Thoughts on swinging around town with me? It’ll be fun I promise! I had a great night by the way. I love you.

-Peter.

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

#peter parker x male reader #peter parker x reader fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker x male reader fluff #spider-man x male reader #peter parker smut #tasm!peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker x male reader smut #the amazing spiderman #tasm!peter parker x male reader #tasm!peter parker x male reader smut #peter parker fanfic #spider-man fic #spider-man x reader

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 1 year ago

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mr and mrs parker

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

wc: 1.7K

warnings: none. clean as a whistle

summary: fury has assigned you and peter on an undercover mission. as a married couple. and the two of you haven’t even been on a first date yet. used prompts 3 and 7 from oblivious pining from @mangocherri

A/N: peter and reader are aged up to 21, but there’s nothing explicit happening.

masterlist / peter parker

“the both of you are going undercover at the event as a married couple. need these bugs to be planted where you deem fit. keep tabs on anyone suspicious, and stay lively and sober. be the happy couple.” fury left the tiny bugging devices and exited the room without further words.

you and peter stayed quiet while both of you sat at the giant conference table. two manilla envelopes were sitting in front of each of you with information on the targets and the object of the mission. along with the cover story, the both of you being the happy mr and mrs parker couple.

now there was a slight problem with the cover story, you were a married couple. not even a regular couple, just two friends/coworkers who have crushes on each other but are too chicken to do anything about it.

“ever been to an event like this?” peter asked. the first one to break the growing silence in the room.

you bent the corner of the folder, “uh, yeah. but only twice and both were in the shadow missions. being dressed as a waiter, passing through the crowd unnoticed. now i’m gonna be dressed nice and done up, eyes watching. still never used to that feeling.” hand leaving the card stock and falling into your lap. “you?” already knowing the answer.

he shook his head, “not my thing. usually, it’s spider-man coming in to save the day.”

“well,” you stood from your seat, “for the day we can pretend to be fancy people and a lovely couple.” hoping you didn’t show too much excitement for the last part.

“best day ever.” peter replied as he grabbed his papers, a nice red ghosting on his cheeks.

“excited?” natasha walked into your room and sat on the foot of your made bed.

you were sitting at your desk which was your temporary vanity for the time getting ready. tubes and powers, palettes and brushes were scattered over the surface, a task for future you to clean up. hair painstakingly styled from your usual combat sleek look, your arms getting their workout for the day.

you sighed at natasha’s question, “i feel sick,” grumbled as you looked for your blush. natasha just laughed at the comment, “that’s the butterflies, honey. your nervous cause of your partner. i’m sorry, husband.” she practically sang the word.

you dropped your voice, “no, it's not cause of peter. i’m just not used to being in an eye-catching position.” touching up your eye makeup for distraction.

“uh huh.” she didn’t sound convinced, “well, i’m sure my memory doesn’t fail me cause i swear, there was this girl a few months ago who came to me frantic about this crush she had on a bug superhero. but i guess i’m old since i’m in my late thirties.”

you dropped any brushes or makeup from your hand back to the table. a defeated sigh racking from your chest, “okay, yes, fine. it’s mostly cause of peter and how we’re probably gonna hold hands and maybe need to kiss or something. but there is a small part cause of the mission, that’s one hundred percent true.”

natasha stood from your bed and walked behind you, hands squeezing your shoulders, “you’re gonna do great, honey. you’re one of the youngest SHIELD agents, you know what you’re doing. and peter’s been getting better at undercover, there’s nothing to worry about. a simple bug and mingle.”

the two of you locked eyes in your mirror. natasha felt like an older sister hyping you up for your high school dance with a boy you liked, but in reality, it was an agent-to-agent pep talk for an undercover op with a web-crawling hero. tomato potato.

a gentle knock at the door stole the attention. you yelled for them to enter and peter poked his head around the gap, he sent a sheepish smile in greeting, and it made those flutters reappear.

“hi, sorry. don’t mean to bother-“ “your not a bother.” quickly interrupting peter. you ignore the look natasha sent you.

peter chuckled lightly, “thanks. uh, i was wondering if either of you could help with my bow tie? i can’t find anyone else in the tower and i wasn’t taught….” he trailed off while playing with the black fabric.

natasha patted your shoulders before moving away, “y/n can help. so i’m gonna head out and the two of you enjoy your date- sorry, mission.” leaving the both of you warm in the face and also giving peter a pat on his back before closing your door behind her. and then it was two.

you stood from your chair and made your way to peter. “sorry about her. loves messing with people.” rolling your lips and eyes shying away from peter’s pretty brown ones. again a light chuckle from him, “it’s- it’s fine. kinda used to that from my aunt.”

you nodded, “ready for tonight?” bouncing on the balls of your feet. you were still dressed in a loose shirt and shorts, planning to slip into your dress in a few minutes.

peter played with his bow tie, “physically just about. mentally… need a few more minutes to be thrown into the lion's den.” now you laughed as you plucked the fabric from him and stepped closer, “it’s not so much a lion's den, more like a… a monkey den.”

you popped peter’s stiff collar and slipped the fabric behind his neck, end pieces adjusted evenly. “what makes it a monkey’s den?” peter tilted his head back a little, chin almost hitting your forehead.

you spoke into his chest, fingers bending and twisting. “their all dressed in their monkey suits and throwing bullshit at each other. all they need is a couple of hung tires and boom, monkey den ala rich assholes.” pulling the finished bow tight.

you took a step back to admire your handiwork. peter dropped his head and his darting brown eyes made you part your lips subconsciously. peter swiped his hands down his pressed white button-up, “how- how do i look? like i’ll fight in?”

you let your eyes drift down his chest, the shirt loose enough that it wouldn’t strain when he moved his arms. the end of the shirt tucked into his black dress pants that were without a wrinkle and stopped just at his ankle. but when you went from toe to head, you only saw a boyish face with little bits of baby fat clinging to his cheeks. how he smiled awkwardly, teeth flashing white, his eyes nervous and almost blinking too many times.

“you won’t fit in.” saying the statement gently. peter deflated a bit, a crinkle in the middle of his brows. you gained that previous step back, right hand hesitantly falling over peter’s heart.

“but it’s best you don’t look like them. want you to stand out as your own.” boldly gazing into his eyes, letting your words melt into his brain for a moment before walking away. “now, uh, if you could just stay here so you could help with my dress that’d be great.”

“yeah! ye-yeah, can- can do that.” and you heard the heels of his sleek leather shoes click on your floor.

you grabbed the all-black gown from your closet and led into your connected bathroom. stripping off your casual comfy clothes, you held the dress to the floor and stepped in from the top to save your hair and makeup from friction. thick black straps sit on your shoulders and with a hand over your chest, you slide the door to shuffle back to the open space.

peter had his hands stuffed into his pockets and was leaning into your desk area, eyes taking in all the photos decorating your dirty mirror. he had a soft smile on his thin lips.

“a little help, spider boy.” sneaking up on him and not withholding the little giggle at seeing him startle in surprise. “thought you had a tingle for danger.”

“it’s called spider sense and you're not a danger, at least not to me.” you hummed as you turned your back to peter. you peeked a glance over your shoulder to see peter standing pretty close to your back, closer than would be normal to zip up a dress. he pulled both sides of the fabric tight then held them with one hand at the top of your back while his dominant hand tugged up the zipper slowly. you sucked in the sigh that wanted to escape at the feeling of peter’s touch and warmth, you kept your head forward and eyes focused on your messy bed.

peter stopped and you thought he was done but then his wrist skimmed across your neck and you couldn’t help the audible gasp. “sorry, didn’t want your hair getting caught.” his voice was low. “it’s okay.” almost breathless. “it’s- it’s beautiful. your hair and- and makeup. just not used to seeing you dressed up.”

a quick laugh, “yeah, definitely out of my comfort zone. but it’s- it’s not too bad. at least you're in the same boat, i’m- i’m guessing.” chiding yourself for the assumption, but peter quickly quelled the nerves, “definitely out of my zone. there, all done.”

turning to face peter you did the same actions as him earlier, looking down at your attire and smoothing your hands over invisible wrinkles. “not too much? not trying to draw attention.”

you waited to hear an answer but it never came. you looked away from the dress to see peter with wide eyes and a tight mouth. you stepped closer and pressed the back of your hand to his cheek and exposed forehead, “you okay?”

he mindlessly nodded, and you stepped away to look for your tiny heels. but stopped in your search at the crack of peter’s voice and the heart-racing words that left his mouth.

“what?” your own eyes blown large. peter scratched a hand on the back of his hair before shoving it into his pockets. he cleared his throat and looked directly at you while repeating, “you- you look beautiful. hard to not draw attention.” he cleared his throat again.

“uh, th- thanks, peter.”

“yeah… well i’m- im gonna wait outside. see- see you in a few minutes.” and he left before you could protest his absence.

#peter parker fic #peter parker x female reader #peter parker x you #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x shield reader #spider man imagine #spider man fic #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff #marvel imagine #marvel

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aslvt4ag · 6 months ago

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Title: A healing light

Peter Parker x reader (fem)

Word count: Approximately 320 words.

Warning:

This chapter contains themes of guilt, grief, and the burden of responsibility.

Summary:

Peter grapples with guilt as he swings through the city, haunted by thoughts of y/n and Gwen. Determined to be a better hero, he vows to honor their memories by fighting for justice.

Chapter 12: A Hero's Burden

As Peter swung through the city streets, his mind was clouded with thoughts of y/n and Gwen, their faces haunting him with every passing moment. Guilt gnawed at him relentlessly, a constant reminder of the pain he had caused them both.

No matter how fast he moved, Peter couldn't outrun the weight of his mistakes. He had betrayed y/n's trust, shattered her fragile heart with his reckless actions, and the thought of her hurt and disappointed face haunted him like a ghost.

But it wasn't just y/n's pain that weighed heavily on Peter's conscience. Gwen's memory lingered in the shadows of his mind, a constant reminder of the cost of his double life as Spider-Man. He had failed her, just as he had failed y/n, and the guilt of his failures threatened to consume him whole.

As he perched atop a skyscraper, the city sprawled out before him in all its chaotic beauty, Peter couldn't help but feel a sense of hopelessness wash over him. No matter how many lives he saved, no matter how many villains he defeated, he would always be haunted by the ghosts of his past.

But amidst the darkness that threatened to engulf him, a flicker of determination burned bright within Peter's chest. He couldn't change the past, couldn't undo the mistakes he had made, but he could strive to be better, to do better, for y/n, for Gwen, for everyone he had ever failed.

With renewed purpose, Peter swung into action, the wind whipping through his hair as he soared through the night sky. And as he fought to protect the city he loved, he made a silent vow to himself to never again let his guilt hold him back, to honor the memories of those he had lost by being the hero they deserved.

For in the end, Peter knew that true redemption could only be found in the selfless pursuit of justice, in the unwavering commitment to doing what was right, even in the face of overwhelming darkness. And as he disappeared into the night, a lone figure against the backdrop of the city's skyline, he knew that his journey was far from over.

#andrew garfield #peter parker #the amazing spider man #tasm peter parker #emma stone #gwen stacy #gweter #fanfic #petergwen fan fiction #andrew!peter x reader

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siremasterlawrence · 1 year ago

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The Erosion Of Hero’s Free Will Part 1

Anthony “Tony” Stark is working on a brand spanking new invention tinkering away at a small cube shape device in his plan is being fixed with numerous electronic tools starting a new as the device rolls once creating a surge in.The cube lifts in the air shoots into the sky in a straight arrow reaching new heights in a beautiful display of his technological wonder it goes off projecting footage from all over the house including the many other Avenger members training in the weight room.Hours pass as Tony yawns loudly stretching his arms into the air with excitement he fist pumps and heads to bed snapping his tired finger the lights flicker off as everything he created shuts down.

Something is off as he stops in the middle of the room when the elevator shaft comes to a hault in a mid stop the floor above him suddenly all of the lights flicker off catching Tony’s eyesThe machinery shuts down with an all to lull familiar voice banging on in the background of course it’s his AI Jarvis warning him that he is being attacked.He can’t help himself staring into the main light in the center of the ceiling soon the room spinning he falls onto his back as nothing else seems to matter everything is fading.

He cannot believe his eyes the shadow on the wall appears out of nowhere growing ever larger and larger is his shape blowing up getting closer to him. It is now that he stood well over him the man knelt on the floor cupping Tony’s chin lifting him up to my lips and I press mine on his with lust.Tony blacks out completely laying mindless on the rooms floor unknowingly Peter Parker stood in the glory of the light shining on him at last.

He is gleeful so excitedly he takes Tony by both of his hand pulling them in front of him he yanks him forward dragging his body to the coldest slab.Tony is thrown on to it locking him set in to place be is completely at his mercy the boy gets to work strapping him down into place with chains.One more Spider-Man crawls down from a sheet of long length spiderweb hitting the floor as he wraps his legs on it and flips into the air landing.

“You arrived finally?” Peter A

“Sorry! Late for duty” Peter B

“Where is Peter C?” Peter A

“It’s pizza time” Peter C

“Are you guys ready?”

“Commence”

“This is him?”

“Filthy rich”

“Sexy indeed “

“Powerful”

“He is all ours”

“Let’s play with our new jungle gym”

They snap their fingers creating a gigantic wave of energy in forum of spider web into the air shaking Tony up stirring him up from his slumber.His eyes pop open as he raises his head into the air he sees what’s about to happen took into an account pressing his hand on the bed and he flips off. Before he can make a quick escape all three Peter’s form their signature hand stances as they synchronize an ultimate spider web lock him in.

“Guy on my count.”

“Together in one…two….three”

“Aaaaahhhhhhhh”

“Yes Masters Peter! I am at your service.”

“Mwahahahahaha.”

The end

#tom holland #rdj #andrew garfield #tobey maguire #hypnosis #mind control slaves #mind corruption #Free Will Erosion

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romancomicsblog · 1 year ago

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Who should be the new lead of the MCU?

Ever since Avengers Endgame, the MCU has not had a clear protagonist. Whether you preferred Iron Man or Captain America, it was clear both held key roles in the larger narrative of the first three phases and in the Avengers in universe.

While it has been fun to see the various different sides of the Marvel Universe, at some point the lack of direction has made most of the stories feel disconnected and disjointed.

I propose it's time for one character to take the lead and become a central point in the story and more importantly, in the Avengers.

I want to run through some picks that are pitched and may come to mind, and why I think they aren't a good fit, and eventually get to my winner. But first, let's look back at what made the leaders of the Avengers good leads.

Tony Stark - Iron Man

What made Tony an interesting protagonist was how flawed he was compared to the heroes around him. His fear of the future often lead to impulsive decisions that manifested in villains, conflicts, and even the disbanding of the Avengers.

A protagonist with clear distinct flaws is something the MCU is currently lacking. Think of your favorite new phase 4 MCU character, what are their flaws? Because usually it's they go it alone, or they think only they can handle a fight.

While this isn't always the case, there are few that do the flawed hero better than Tony.

His flaws and mistakes often drove the plot of the entire MCU in big ways, so I want a character who decisions can have a similar impact.

Steve Rogers

Steve worked as a lead for the exact opposite reasons Tony worked. He had no flaws. Steve was the moral compass of the team, and the inspiration of the other heroes.

While there are a few heroes who I think can pull it off, maybe even better than Evans, no one has gotten the opportunity yet.

I think one of the benefits of Steve Rogers in the MCU was him being sort of baked into the Avengers/SHIELD. Because he had no other life, he became integrated into every Avengers story.

So a moral hero who is devoted to the life in the same way could help as well.

So let's start with some big hitters:

Peter Parker - The Spider-Man:

Seems like a no brainer right?

Spider-Man being the spiritual successor to iron Man in the MCU and Marvel's biggest character, it makes sense why he would be the new lead.

He is a flawed character who's mistakes often drive the plot. He is a moral compass to other heroes like Doctor Strange, and currently has no life outside of being a superhero due to the events of No Way Home.

And it doesn't hurt that he led the 3rd highest grossing MCU movie of all time.

So we're done right?

Well, no.

Due to Sony's presence and the overarching shadow that is SPUMC (Sony Pictures Universe of Marvel Characters), the threat of pulling Spider-Man can come any day. So having a lead that can be pulled from the universe at any moment doesn't seem wise.

Sorry Tom, next time.

Sam Wilson - Captain America

Speaking of successors, Sam Wilson is a beacon of hope.

While he has only had a little time as Captain America, Sam has exemplified Cap qualities for a while.

He was the moral compass to Steve and Bucky in the Captain America trilogy and Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

While he doesn't have any particular flaws, this worked for Steve, and I think it works for Sam.

My main concern is Anthony Mackie isn't a scene stealer in the same way Evans was. Hell, Steve has another partner with more of a fanbase in The Winter Solder.

While in universe Sam Wilson makes sense, and he should be the leader of The Avengers, I think we can do better for leads of the franchise.

Carol Danvers - Captain Marvel

Who better to lead than the inspiration for The Avengers themselves?

While Carol hasn't had much time in the MCU, she has definitely made an impact. Her movie made over a billion dollars, sparked a spin-off Secret Invasion series, and she played a pretty big role in the final battle in Endgame.

Her flaws are pretty obvious, she is cocky and powerful and believes she can take on any threat solo. While this hasn't been proven wrong yet, I'm sure this will come to a point in The Marvels where she needs to learn to be a part of a team.

My main reason against Carol, and several space heroes, is that they feel disconnected from the MCU. (This is also my way of saying if you thought Thor, Sersi, or Star-Lord were showing up on this list, they are not).

Carol is human, but has spent surprisingly little time defending earth.

We also haven't seen enough Carol where I feel she is the right person to lead. My tune my change after The Marvels, but for now, I'd say we're closing in our lead.

Stephen Strange - Doctor Strange

The (hopefully one day) Sorcerer Supreme has a lot of the qualities a good lead may need, especially for this phase of movies.

Doctor Strange has been a flawed hero, much like Tony, who has had to learn to outgrow his flaws and demons to become a better hero, but often falls short.

Strange has dreams of future mayhem, strong ties to multiple heroes and even has tangled with the multiverse, our next big world ending threat.

As the sworn protector of the Multiverse, and at one point the host of the time stone, Strange is set up nicely to be a threat to Kang.

Where Strange fails me is he feels too closely to what came before. The goatee, the smartest person in the room, the arrogance, this is just Tony 2.0.

While I think he will be crucial to the fight and probably the end of Secret Wars, I think Strange feels too much like echoes of what came before.

Scott Lang - Ant-Man

Scott Langs Ant-Man has been surprisingly crucial to the MCU narrative. He played a big (see what I did there) role in Civil War, was the catalyst that brought everyone back in Endgame, and has recently been the only hero to fight the new big bad, Kang the Conqueror.

Scott has become a fan favorite due to Rudds comedy and heart in the films. He has strong ties to the original Avengers, a direct connection the next villain of the phase, and has become a fan favorite.

But if there's anything the MCU has taught us about Scott Lang, he is much better suited as a team player than a main hero.

The movies where Rudd plays a part tend to be beloved and make money, but as a lead, his franchise is widely considered one of the worst. Like Strange, I think he is set up to play a big part, but should not be the lead.

At this point you may think that I have run out of options, or I never intended on picking a lead, as most actors/characters are likable but don't feel like they have that star quality/character combo we need.

But you are wrong.

Because there is only 1.

Kamala Khan - Ms. Marvel

Kamala Khan is a kid from New Jersey who is an Avengers Stan. This ties her close to all the New York battles and the Avengers.

Her main flaws come from youth much like Spider-Man. She has not been doing this a long time, but she wants to take on the world and be a hero like The Avengers.

While Ms. Marvel has not been around in the MCU for along time, she has become a huge character in comics, animated television, and even the lead of the Avengers video game.

Much like Captain America Kamala uses her hero persona Ms Marvel to inspire her friends, family, and community, which I hope continues on with Photon and Captain Marvel in the Marvels.

Having a young hero lead the Avengers would be a major shift, that leads to more young heroes stepping up, (maybe forming some sort of Champions or Young Avengers).

Most importantly, Iman Vellani is a ridiculously talented actress. Through her show Ms. Marvel, Iman showed heart, comedic timing, and basically carried the show. Imagine what she can do with The Avengers.

Having a young character who was inspired by heroes before, portrayed by a young actress inspired by Marvel and the MCU, playing one of Marvel's most iconic characters feels like an absolute slam dunk.

It honors what came before by creating something new.

Iman Vellani is the right actress, and Kamala Khan is the right character.

If you'd like to support me you can follow me on my socials here!

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kudosmyhero · 7 months ago

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Spectacular Spider-Man (vol. 1) #215: The Monster Within

Read Date: June 07, 2023 Cover Date: August 1994 ● Writer: Mike Lackey ◦ Tom DeFalco ● Penciler: Sal Buscema ● Inker: Sal Buscema ● Colorist: Glynis Oliver ● Letterer: Clem Robins ● Editor: Mark Powers ◦ Danny Fingeroth ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● why is a well-dressed dude just hanging out in a sewer? ● aww, Pete and MJ are married in this one ● whew, Pete is in a dark place ● who is this heroic stranger?

● 👏👏👏👏

Synopsis: In the sewers below New York City, something has scared the rats that make it their home. The racket also attracts the attention of some slimy creature that also dwells in the sewers. Not far away, the Scorpion is on a rampage because he is on his wit's end. He has grown tired of being the Scorpion, as his transformation has made him incapable of having a normal life. Now he has to spend his time on the run from the authorities and super-heroes, all because of J. Jonah Jameson. He considers giving up on it all, but his rant is interrupted by a man named Phillip Cussler, Sr. Cussler suggests that the Scorpion crush his enemies, and offers his support. Cussler, a self-made millionaire, feels a kinship with the Scorpion because he is wary of the law-abiding world. Needing protection, Phillip invites the Scorpion back home to discuss business. Intrigued by the man's story, the Scorpion agrees to accompany him. As they wade through the sewers, a strange creature lurks in the shadows.

Meanwhile, at the Daily Bugle, Phillip Cussler, Jr. is making an appeal to J. Jonah Jameson and Joe Robertson. He explains that his father has gone missing and he wants the Bugle to publish a story asking for help, and that he is offering a large reward. As Jonah and Cussler the elder go way back, Jonah promises all of the Daily Bugle's resources to help him find his father. Joe leaves the office to get a photographer on the case. As Peter Parker has seemingly gone to ground, Joe suggests that Kate Cushing hire their new cub photographer, Angela Yin. Still, Kate tries to call Peter Parker. Surprisingly Parker answers the phone, but with his Aunt May's frail health and the villains that have been threatening his home, he has too much going on and declines the offer. However, when he hears about Phillip Cussler's disappearance, Peter asks more about it.

That evening, the Scorpion is brought to one of Phlillip Cussler's china shops. there Phillip, Sr. tells the Scorpion that his son has forced him out of the family business and weeks to utterly ruin the boy. When the Scorpion asks if Phillip wants the store trashed, he refuses. Cussler then begins hacking into one of the company computers in order to erase the financial records so he can later sick the IRS on his son. Watching Cussler work, the Scorpion is impressed and figures that this genius will be able to help him come up with a way of defeating Spider-Man once and for all. With the records eliminated, Phillip then turns the Scorpion's attention to the safe. The following morning, When Phillip, Jr., discovers the damage done to his business and calls the police and the Daily Bugle. Arriving on the scene are J. Jonah Jameson and Angela Cheng. When Angela suggests that this is the work of the Scorpion, Jonah dismisses her at first. Then he thinks that the capture of the Scorpion could be the story that will give the sales boost the Daily Bugle needs.

That afternoon, Spider-Man is scouring the city looking for the Scorpion, unimpressed having to deal with him so soon after their last battle. Meanwhile, a mysterious man has just walked out of a grocery store to get some food. His worries are quickly put aside when he spots a child running across the street about to be struck by an oncoming car. This man is able to leap across the width of the road, pulling the child out of harm's way. After handing the boy over to his father, the man runs away before someone recognizes who he is. Meanwhile, Spider-Man has forced information about the Scorpion out of a local stoolie. He learns that the Scorpion is trying to get a group of men for a job. Figuring this is going to be an attack on another Cussler china shop, but with eight franchises in the city, the wall-crawler wonders what is happening next. While down in the sewers, Mac Gargan is enjoying a meal prepared for him by Cussler. This has given him the opportunity to take off his costume and act like Mac Gargan for the first time in forever. He wonders if it is time to leave the life of the Scorpion behind and go straight, but he owes Cussler and decides to continue with this next score.

By this point, Phillip Jr. has connected his stores computers with the Daily Bugle so they know which one of the stores his father will target next. When they get an alert to that the store located at Herald Square. As Jonah, Phillip, and Angela rush to the scene, it is the last store that Spider-Man is checking that day. There he spots the Scorpion's hired goons and attacks them. Inside the store, Phillip, Sr. is working on erasing the computer files on the computer. Hearing the battle outside, the Scorpion goes outside to face his long time enemy. The Scorpion allows Spider-Man to see him go into the sewers, luring the hero into a trap. There the web-slinger is swarmed by more armed thugs. As Spider-Man fights off these attackers, Jonah and the others arrive on the scene and spot Phillip's father watching the battle from a manhole. When Phillip tells his father to stop, the elder Cussler warns them to stay away, brandishing a wrench as a weapon to keep them at bay. Down in the sewer, Spider-Man fights through the gang to battle the Scorpion. As the pair battle it out, a strangle sentient pile of slime attacks the Scorpion's hired thugs. Spider-Man beats the Scorpion into submission and then notices that the thugs have been completely consumed by the pile of slime that suddenly appeared in the sewer.

Dismissing this as a minor concern, Spider-Man begins to clilmb up to the surface to try and find Phillip Cussler's father. His spider-sense begins to warn him of danger above. Before he can turn and see who is attacking him, he strikes out. The web-slinger realizes too late to stop himself from striking Cussler the elder. The strength of the blow sends Cussler slamming into a wall. This moment is photographed by Angie Chang, much to the delight of J. Jonah Jameson. As Phillip rushes to his father, Spider-Man is horrified by what he has done. Jonah gloats that the wall-crawler has gone too far and this will be the end of his career. Fleeing to the rooftops, Spider-Man watches as Cussler is being loaded into an ambulance. Blaming himself, Spider-Man reminds himself of the most important lesson he ever learned, "with great power comes great responisibility", however in this brief moment he has failed in maintaining this motto.

(https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Spectacular_Spider-Man_Vol_1_215)

Fan Art: Spider-Man VS Scorpion by RyanLord

Accompanying Podcast: ● Untold Talks of Spider-Man - episode 12

#marvel #marvel comics #my marvel read #podcast recommendation #comics #peter parker #spider-man #comic books #fan art #fanart #untold talks of spider-man

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cherienymphe · 3 years ago

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Forget Me Not (Peter Parker x Reader)

WARNINGS: Spider-Man No Way Home Spoilers, DUB-CON touching, NON-CON, jealous!Peter, infidelity

! By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut !

summary: Peter’s road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Despite the fact that you were 3 weeks into this course, this was the first day that you’d ever taken notice of Peter Parker. You had been confused when his name was announced alongside yours, put together to write a paper that shouldn’t take any more than a week. The name was unfamiliar to you, and while the class was relatively large, you had at least been able to faintly put a face to the names of your classmates. However, that name brought forth no fuzzy features in your mind. You started to wonder if the professor had made a mistake, but the fault was all yours.

A shadow had been cast over you as the class ended, and you sharply inhaled when your eyes rose to meet dark brown ones. Not only were you mildly shocked that there was a Peter Parker in your class, but you were rendered speechless by the sight of the handsome young man. His dark brown curls were messy, giving him a boyish allure, but the sharp lines of his face and jaw were anything but. His smile was soft, a far cry from the dim nature of his eyes. Peter Parker was a handsome contradiction.

“Peter,” he finally introduced, offering his hand to you as you stood.

You briefly shook it, a shudder passing through you at the feel of his skin against yours as you gave him your name. The dark-haired man eyed you, and you cleared your throat.

“I feel like a terrible person,” you told him with a sheepish smile.

He tilted his head at you, smile growing a bit.

“Why…?”

“I didn’t even know you were in this class. When the professor said your name, I was positive that he’d made a mistake,” you confessed.

To your surprise, Peter wasn’t offended. In fact, he even let out a soft laugh as he waited for you to grab your stuff.

“I like to keep to myself,” was his simple response, shoulders shrugging.

“Well, you have done a great job of that.”

“Oh, thank God,” he dramatically sighed as you left the classroom. “I was worried that I was getting a reputation on campus.”

You found yourself chuckling, something you hadn’t been doing a lot of lately. You couldn’t help but to eye the former stranger as he started to ramble on about possible paper topics. His t-shirt clung to him, and at first glance, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who should have muscles of any kind. He struck you as someone who played a lot of video games and read a lot of comics, but the more you stared at him, the more you realized that his toned appearance suited him just fine.

“What about Spider-Man?” you suddenly wondered.

He stopped mid-sentence, and you watched the way he tensed. It only lasted for maybe half a second, and the tautness in him was gone just as quickly as it came. He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, straightening his backpack on his shoulder before looking to you with a faint smirk on his pink lips.

“Spider-Man? Why are you interested in writing about a criminal?”

“It’s funny that you say that because that’s what I want to explore. Some people see him as a hero, and some people…not so much.”

He held your gaze as you continued.

“No one can deny what he’s doing though, but if the legality is the only difference between a hero and a vigilante, then why does such a distinction even exist if they both do the same thing? Furthermore, shouldn’t it make people look into their own legal authority figures if some random man in a suit can do their job better than them? Shouldn’t people question the people they’ve placed in charge of their safety?”

Peter looked away, smirk growing, and something about it was familiar to you. You had the strangest sense of déjà vu.

“Supporting Spider-Man means supporting anyone who decides to take the law into their own hands because they feel they can do a better job. It’s a slippery slope into being judge, jury, and executioner,” he argued, eyes darkening just a tad as if he were looking at something you couldn’t see.

“…and that’s an excellent point that can be brought up in our paper.”

He glanced at you out of the side of his eye, and you sent him a hopeful smile. His feet slowly brought him to a stop, and you did the same, turning to look at him as he seemed to think it over. With a deep sigh, he returned your smile, and yours grew. You didn’t miss the way his eyes briefly fell to your lips before connecting with yours again.

“Alright, partner. We’re doing our paper on Spider-Man,” he agreed.

Your excitement must have been contagious because he softly laughed with a shake of his head as you eagerly gave him your number, taking his too.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m kind of swamped this semester, and the last thing I want to worry about is a paper. I say we knock this out as soon as we can,” you proposed, eyes briefly drawn to your screen as a familiar name popped up.

“You and me both. I need to get to my next class but send me a good time and place to meet up,” Peter said, already in the process of walking away.

You were grateful for that, smile smoothly slipping from your face as soon as he turned his back, swallowing down a sigh as you answered your phone.

Peter raised one dark brow at you, and you rolled your eyes at the look he gave.

“You sound like the kind of person we should all be watching out for,” he said, tapping his pen against the keys of his laptop.

“Think what you want, but if I had any kind of supernatural or superhuman talents, I don’t think I’d be doing anything differently from Spider-Man. Let’s face it… The law can only do so much. Humans can only do so much, and I think people’s lives are more important than the law,” you said with a shrug.

He didn’t respond, simply smiling down at his laptop, and you suddenly realized how comfortable you had become around the other man within the last week. He was incredibly smart, an unsurprising conclusion but still impressive, nonetheless. Peter was easy to talk to, sometimes interacting with you in a way that was almost too familiar, like he’d known you for years instead of a matter of days. However, instead of feeling strange, it felt relaxing. Such a thought had you frowning, and you suddenly felt like you were doing something wrong.

You hardly knew Peter. In fact, so much of him was a mystery to you. He didn’t talk about his family or any friends, not even a random anecdote about his childhood. The man was practically a blank canvas, and you found yourself wanting to fill it with some color. You felt guilty that you were more comfortable around this stranger than your own boyfriend in months, but you knew that the mystery surrounding him created the pull. It was what contributed to your ease because you were so focused on knowing more.

Peter’s own actions didn’t exactly help.

The man was so intense, the kind of intensity you didn’t normally see in people your age. Whenever you talked, he looked at you like he was ensnared by the very sound of your voice, hanging onto your every word like it was gospel. He gave you his full attention, dark eyes so deeply focused on your face that if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was staring into your soul with your eyes as the windows. One look made you feel more alive than a whole slew of touches from your boyfriend, and there were moments where he’d let his guard down. They wouldn’t last more than seconds, but something would briefly slip, and he’d have the kind of eyes that had seen a lifetime of things you couldn’t even begin to understand.

Peter Parker was a mystery that you desperately wanted to figure out…and that was bad.

“I didn’t realize how late it had gotten,” you suddenly said as you glanced at the time.

Peter hummed, stretching a bit, and you glanced away.

“Is that your subtle way of telling me to leave?”

You shook your head, fighting back a smile and stood.

“Not at all. I was actually about to make some tea to help me stay awake, but I’m just not too sure how my boyfriend would feel about coming home to this so late at night. He can be…moody,” you mumbled.

Peter nodded, eyes glinting with something unfamiliar at that as he stood too.

“Flash, right?”

You had only mentioned him a few times, maybe two, and you struggled to remember if you had ever said his name.

“Yeah,” you quietly said, once again stewing over your relationship when Peter spoke again.

“I can make your tea for you. Lavender, right?”

Your fingers hovered near your laptop, frown deepening as you glanced at him. His face was even, albeit a bit inquiring, and held no indication that anything was out of the ordinary. If anything, he seemed to be staring at you strangely now, and you blinked when you realized why.

“Uh…yeah,” you finally answered.

You watched him, mind whirling and brain scrambling.

“How did you know that?”

His reply was seamless, not even missing a beat.

“You mentioned it the other day, I think. Something about it helping your anxiety, right?”

You blinked, eyebrows raising as he said this. It was the truth, and even though you didn’t remember telling him that, it was the only explanation as to how he knew. Not even Flash knew, and again, you were forced to briefly reflect on your relationship. Peter was still practically a stranger, and you had mentioned it in passing so easily to him? Maybe it was finally time for you to come to terms with what you’d been debating for months. You mumbled a ‘thank you’ when Peter finally brought you your tea, brows furrowed a bit as he sat back down.

Peter only stayed for another hour or so, leaving your apartment long before Flash finally came home. Like always as of late, his greeting was lackluster, far too preoccupied with his phone as he texted his frat brothers about whatever upcoming event they were hosting. You sighed when you heard him go into your room, wondering to yourself when you had fallen into this depressing routine. Your relationship with your boyfriend had never been bad. Even now, it wasn’t ‘bad’ per say. A relationship had to exist for it to be considered bad, and yours was practically nonexistent.

You were sure he didn’t mean to, but he hardly paid attention to you anymore. These days, he never asked about your day or told you about the latest frat incident or even talked about your future like he used to. Part of you wondered if he was taking you for granted, growing so used to your presence that he didn’t see the need to work for it anymore. Even as you slipped into bed later in the night, you somehow knew that you’d feel less alone if there was one less person at your side.

“Flash-.”

“Five more minutes,” he called to you, doing nothing to prevent himself from being dragged away by someone else yet again.

Your face fell, and you resisted the urge to huff as you waited by the door. The party was supposed to end hours ago and you and Flash were supposed to leave 40 minutes ago. Neither of those things happened, and you felt your mood worsening as the seconds ticked on. Too fed up and annoyed, you turned and exited the rowdy house with a shake of your head. Your apartment was quite the ways away, and Flash had drove, but you didn’t care. Hopefully the walk home would actually improve your mood.

You needed to break up with Flash.

The truth of what needed to be done had been staring you in the face for a while now, and you weren’t even sure why you let it go on for this long. You were unhappy, and you were sure he forgot you existed half the time. What kind of relationship was that? Your anniversary was coming up and instead of feeling excited, you only dreaded the day. At the moment, you wanted nothing more than to go home and make a cup of tea before sinking into bed. At that, your thoughts drifted to Peter, and your stomach simultaneously sank and fluttered.

The paper was finished with a few days to spare, but the brief project had bloomed a gradual friendship that you still didn’t know how to feel about. You and Peter weren’t besties or anything, far from it, but you felt like you’d been talking to him more than you had your own boyfriend. The other man made you feel like you were more than your dying relationship. As if you’d conjured him up, you watched as he stepped out of the store you were in the process of passing, and his smile was instantaneous when his eyes met yours.

“You’re a little dressed up for a late-night stroll,’ Peter teased, drinking you in with a small smile on his face.

You felt your face heating up as he eyed you, struggling to hold his gaze when your eyes met again.

“I just came back from a party,” you told him.

His face fell a bit at your tone, and your eyes found the sidewalk.

“Frat party?” he guessed, and you sadly nodded.

Neither one of you needed to say what went unspoken, and you watched the way his face hardened just a tad, jaw briefly clenching in time with his eyes narrowing.

“Well,” he breathed, shoulders sagging. “At least let me walk you home.”

You started to protest but thought better of it, relenting with a nod and an appreciative smile. The walk home was quiet, and despite the fact that you’d walked home with Flash numerous times, you felt safer with Peter at your side than anyone else. Even though neither one of you spoke, what went unsaid was still heavy in the air. Where was Flash? Why did he let you go alone? Why are you still with him? Peter never indicated as much, but you got the feeling that he didn’t care for your boyfriend, and you found yourself running out of reasons as to why that should upset you.

When you made it to your place, you invited Peter inside. There was no telling what time Flash would finally return, and at the moment, you really didn’t want to be alone. Peter seemed to hesitate, like he was fighting with himself, and you were just about to relieve him of the burden when he agreed. He refused your offer of anything to drink or eat, but you definitely needed something to do, and that was how you found yourself on the couch, nursing a drink while Peter comfortably sat on the other end.

“How did you and Flash meet?” he suddenly asked you, and you couldn’t tell whether or not he was trying to distract you.

“We met in high school,” you told him. “Didn’t date until senior year.”

“Midtown…”

Your eyes met his, and you tilted your head at him.

“I didn’t realize I’d told you what high school I went to,” you said, more to yourself than him.

Peter cleared his throat.

“You didn’t. I know Flash went there.”

While you were relieved that your memory wasn’t that bad, you were thrown however that Peter knew that. The question must’ve been in your gaze, and again, Peter looked like he was debating with himself, lips pressed together before he spoke.

“I briefly went there,” he confessed.

You perked up at that, a curious smile on your face.

“Really? I think I would’ve remembered you, Peter,” you chuckled.

He shrugged, a small smile on his own lips as he stared at the cushions of the couch.

“Like I said, it was briefly. I don’t remember you either, but Flash Thompson is a hard name and personality to forget,” he mused.

You couldn’t bite back your smile at that, nodding in agreement. You both fell into a comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s company as you took another sip. You glanced at the clock, mood falling a bit as you realized that your boyfriend still wasn’t home.

“Do you love him?”

Peter’s question shocked you, but it did not offend you, and it took you a while to answer. Peter’s gaze was intense, almost seeming desperate as he awaited your answer.

“I did. At least…I thought I did, and sometimes I still think I do, but I’m starting to realize that maybe I don’t know what love is,” you honestly answered. “He is my first boyfriend, after all, and I’m slowly accepting that maybe I’m too young to think I have it all figured out.”

You couldn’t tell if Peter was satisfied with your answer or not, and you suddenly straightened, your curiosity to know more about Peter getting the best of you. So much of him was still a mystery.

“What about you? I feel like you know way more about me than I intended for you to, and I hardly know anything about you…”

Peter seemed to freeze, dark eyes widening just a little before he blinked. He pursed his lips, looking away as he leaned back into the seat. His eyes were thoughtful, and his brows were drawn together as he seemed to contemplate your question.

“I had a girlfriend…”

You noted his word use, a frown of your own forming. Peter seemed so far away as he stared past you, and you desperately wanted to know what he was seeing, who he was seeing. He licked his lips, sighing.

“…but circumstances made it so that we didn’t work out, and even though there isn’t any bad blood between us…”

His eyes met yours then, softening with a vulnerability that made your chest ache.

“Sometimes it feels like she doesn’t remember me, at all.”

You softly exhaled, gazing back at him with a somber expression.

“I’m sorry. I…I can’t imagine what that must feel like,” you genuinely replied.

Peter’s only reply was a sad smile, and your relationship ‘problems’ suddenly seemed so insignificant. All you had to do was break up with someone who was clearly already halfway out of the relationship, and yet Peter couldn’t be with someone he evidently still wanted to be with. You did not envy him one bit.

You were drunk. It wasn’t something you made a habit out of, but even the most incompetent person could realize when they were inebriated, and you were so drunk. Another frat party that carried on hours after it was supposed to end, another hour after that of empty promises, and somehow, you’d made it home. You didn’t even remember leaving nor how you managed to get home, but here you were, hair soaking with tears as you stared at the ceiling that was moving just a little too much. And you were alone. That was the kicker.

You were alone once again.

You’d tried to talk to Flash, tell him about how neglected you’d been feeling for months. You tried to tell him that you felt ignored and taken for granted and like a stranger to your own boyfriend. You told him that you felt more alone when he was sleeping right next to you than not, and what did he do? You closed your eyes, a sour taste in your mouth as you recalled his laughter.

He’d called you silly, needy even. He’d made you feel like you were the one in the wrong before ignoring you for his ‘frat bros’, essentially proving your point. You couldn’t remember a time where you’d been so angry and hurt and embarrassed all in one. Only Flash could accomplish such a task, and before you’d known it, you’d thrown your drink all over him. If you weren’t over before, you had to be now, and you wondered what this meant for you. This was what you wanted, right? What you’d been psyching yourself up to? You didn’t have time to come up with an answer because someone was knocking on your door.

Truthfully, it was more like a pounding. You were grateful that the alcohol was still in your system because if you’d been hungover, the person on the other side would’ve dealt with everything you really wanted to take out on Flash. There was hardly a pause in the knocks, and they almost sounded hurried. Desperate and frantic. Peter Parker was the last person you expected to see when you opened the door, and your eyes were just as wide as his.

“Peter…? What… What are you doing here?”

He frowned, eyes pooling with concern as he looked at you as if you’d grown a second head.

“What am I-? Y/N, you texted me. A lot,” he replied.

You blinked, mouth parting. He dug around in his pocket for what you assumed was his phone.

“None of it made sense, and your voicemails made me even more confused…”

You pressed your hand to your forehead with a sigh.

“I got worried, and I… I had to check on you,” he quietly finished, showing you the texts and missed calls.

Embarrassment flooded you, and you scratched the back of your head, sheepish.

“I’m sorry, I…”

You trailed off, struggling to gather your thoughts and form them into words when Peter spoke again.

“Are you okay?”

His voice was soft, tone gentle as he inquired about your wellbeing, and it just hit you how long it’d been since someone asked you that. A few tears escaped without your consent, and you didn’t object when Peter pushed his way inside. He urged you to go sit down, and you did, listening to him tamper around in the kitchen. You sat there for a while before he returned with a cup of lavender tea. You sent him a grateful smile, and despite your unsteady hands, you were able to take a few sips. Peter’s gaze remained on you the entire time.

Neither of you spoke, and you were beyond thankful that Peter wasn’t pushing you to talk. He just sat there in his grey sweats and grey hoodie, dark curls unruly as if he’d just gotten out of bed, and with a start, you realized that that’s probably exactly what happened. As if you didn’t feel bad enough already.

“Stop that,” he murmured.

You blinked at him, and he ran his dark eyes over you.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking. Stop it,” he repeated.

Your eyes fell to your lap, and you sniffed.

“I talked to Flash about…well, everything…”

You set the cup down, and briefly glanced at Peter, finding his dark gaze resting intently on you.

“…and he laughed at me. Somehow he made me feel worse than I already did, and I didn’t think that was possible.”

You looked at him again, and his face was cloudy now, brows furrowed and jaw clenched as he listened to you. Peter didn’t look happy, and as he glanced away with an exasperated sigh, you noticed that look again. He looked as if he was fighting with himself. About what, you didn’t know.

“Why couldn’t you have been my boyfriend?”

The words escaped before you had time to register them, and it was almost impressive how quickly Peter’s gaze snapped back to you. More tears spilled over, and you wiped them, tongue darting out to wet your lips, and Peter’s eyes seemed to be drawn to the action.

“I know that’s not nice to say or think, but… You listen to me and remember things that Flash would think are so insignificant. You don’t make me feel useless or unimportant…”

You trailed off at the thunderous expression on his face, and Peter was suddenly up and kneeling before you, hands on your face. His eyes that normally concealed so much were bleeding with an anger and desperation and regret that confused you. Your confusion was put on a halt when his lips met yours.

You had the strangest sense of déjà vu when he kissed you, soft lips moving against yours in a way that reminded you of what it was like to be kissed like this. His thumbs traced patterns into the skin of your cheeks as he breathed you in, and you noted that Peter kissed you like he was somehow trying to both forget and remember you at the same time. It was a kiss that made your head spin, and even though alcohol was swimming through your system, you noted that this was wrong. Your feelings may have been justified, but your feelings didn’t justify this.

Peter allowed you to breathe when he trailed his lips down to your neck, tasting your skin with fingers kneading at your flesh. You felt the seat of the couch at your back, Peter pressing down on you between your legs. He was tasting any part of you that your dress would allow, and your lashes fluttered, fingers twisting into his hair. Heat surrounded your entire frame, body on fire with ecstasy, the spell only breaking when Peter’s fingers crawled up your bare leg, grazing the skin beneath your dress.

It was like a switch, your reaction instantaneous as you pressed your hands to his chest, pushing against him. Peter’s face was pinched, dark eyes staring you down as you forced him to sit up. Both of your breathing was labored, and your eyes were wide with the guilt of what you’d just let happen. You opened and closed your mouth, struggling to find the right words to say after that.

“Y-you should go,” was all you could settle on.

You watched Peter’s face fall, a pain in his eyes that was far too strong to make sense of. His own lips were parted, breath shaky as he reached for you. His fingers ghosted over your jaw, and you couldn’t hold his gaze anymore.

“I’m sorry that I worried you and made you-.”

“You didn’t make me do anything.”

His tone was firm, and you got the feeling that there was some other meaning behind his words. You wrapped your arms around your frame, closing yourself off to him as your eyes found the floor.

“Please go,” you quietly urged him, and after what seemed to be much struggle, Peter finally pulled away.

You kept your eyes down, unable to look at him as he did as you asked. You only allowed your shoulders to droop when the sound of the closing door reached your ears.

You were alone when a knock sounded on your door a few weeks later. You were busy sorting through old photos of you and Flash and old remnants of your relationship when you were pulled away. With a sigh, you dropped a photo and moved towards your door. You froze at the sight of the other person on the other side of the peephole, hesitating for only a moment before deciding to stop being a coward. You hadn’t seen nor talked to Peter since that night.

A backpack was slung over his shoulder, and his dark eyes were the most expressive you’d ever seen them. He sent you a small smile, and you hesitantly returned it. You were unsure of where you stood with him, but Peter was a nice guy, a good friend, and you didn’t want to lose him. But considering your rocky relationship, and your unsure feelings about Peter, you knew that he was the last guy you should be friends with.

You silently stepped aside to let him in, and your eyes fell onto that backpack again. You could feel his eyes on you, and you lifted yours to meet his gaze. There was such a storm of emotions there that you didn’t even attempt to identify them all. Only opting to watch as he set it down. With a deep breath, you figured that you should be the one to say something.

“Peter-.”

“Let me…let me go first,” he softly interrupted, gaze heavy. “…because I have a lot to say.”

You blinked, having not expected that, before giving him a slow nod.

“…okay…”

Peter seemed unsure of how to go about this, and you curiously eyed him, watching the contemplation on his face. With a purse of his lips and a shake of his head, he reached out, flicking his wrist, and your eyes widened as familiar webbing snapped your open window shut. Your mouth fell open, shock coursing through you as you looked at him again. You didn’t know what to say, and so you said nothing, simply sitting down as you processed what he’d just silently revealed to you.

You knew that Spider-Man was someone walking around just like you, an every day individual just with a gift. However, you never could’ve imagined he’d be so close. Oddly, you weren’t that surprised, and you slowly exhaled, eyes meeting his again. Peter was obviously waiting for some kind of reaction, good or bad, and all you did was send him a comforting smile.

“You’re Spider-Man,” you stated the obvious.

“I’m Spider-Man…and…could you have believed that I was Spider-Man before I showed you?”

His question threw you, but you shook your head, nonetheless.

“No…probably not,” you said with a chuckle.

Peter licked his lips, grabbing his backpack before hurriedly sitting next to you. Your curiosity grew, and you watched him dig inside before pulling out a scrapbook. He stared at it for a while, resting it in his lap and resting his hand on top of it before looking into your eyes.

“We went to high school together,” he began, making you frown. “In fact, we dated. We were together for years, but then I had to make you forget me for a lot of reasons, but mostly to make things right, and I had the opportunity to-.”

“Wait, wait,” you interrupted, head spinning as his words hit you. “I’m sorry, what?”

Clearly, he thought that repeating himself was useless, and he instead opted for opening the scrapbook. You didn’t think it was possible for you to be even more shocked and confused, but you were proven wrong as your eyes fell onto the pictures before you. You felt like you were having an out of body experience as you stared at them, movements robotic as you flipped from page to page. Your frown deepened, and it was hard to describe the emotions that hit you.

The pictures captured moments of a happy couple. A couple in love. Sometimes they were laughing, always smiling, and usually at the camera. Some were taken by a third party, usually when one or both members of the couple weren’t looking, but in some… In some, the couple were staring at each other with a look you’d never even seen in the mirror before, and the one thing they all had in common were the subjects. Every single one of these photos starred Peter…and you.

“We were happy…”

You were. You could see it.

“…and there’s so many other things I want to tell you, but none of that is as important as this.”

You continued to stare at the photos, knowing they weren’t photoshopped. They couldn’t be, and you were slowly accepting the truth of Peter’s words. You had so many questions. Why did you forget? How did you forget? Did you know he was Spider-Man? Did anyone know? However, there was one question that stood above the rest.

“Why are you showing me this?” you asked him, eyes meeting his again.

Peter blinked, brows drawing together as his face clouded over.

“I was only supposed to look after you, you know?”

You frowned.

“When I found you and realized that your life would be better off, that you’d be safer, if you didn’t know the truth, I was only supposed to watch after you. That’s all I was going to do…”

His eyes shone.

“I was going to make sure you were happy and safe and better off. Even when I realized that you were with Flash now, it hurt like hell, but all I cared about was your happiness.”

You brushed your fingers over a picture.

“…but you’re not happy,” he spat, and you looked at him again.

He looked angry, regretful.

“He’s treating you like shit, and you’re miserable and feeling neglected, and I told myself that it would get better. I told myself this was just a bump in the road for you, but it would get better because I did the right thing, and it has to work out.”

Peter’s voice shook.

“…but then you said you wished I was your boyfriend-.”

“I was drunk-.”

“But it was the truth. You meant it because deep down, you know that’s how it should be.”

You set the book down, shaking your head.

“Peter… I’m with Flash. No, our relationship isn’t perfect, but I’m with him, and if I really wanted to leave him, I would’ve broken up with him that night instead of trying to talk about it,” you honestly said.

“You’re not supposed to be with him. You’re supposed to be with me,” he said through clenched teeth, eyes glistening.

The change in atmosphere unnerved you, and you suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here.

“I was going to let it go, let you go, but nothing is right. None of this is right-.”

“Peter, I think you should-.”

“May is gone,” he choked out, and your eyes widened. “I don’t have anyone.”

You didn’t know who May was, but the despair in his eyes was hard to miss, and your heart clenched as you watched Peter fall apart before your eyes.

“I thought I could make it better by just looking after you and making sure you were happy, but I can’t. He’s not treating you right, and it makes me sick because you’re not even supposed to be his!”

Peter was standing now, towering over you, and you were frozen in place.

“You’re mine! You were mine first, and you would still be mine if I hadn’t-!”

He cut himself off, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. You didn’t know what to do, truthfully too afraid to do anything, and you jumped when Peter suddenly fell to his knees before you. His hands settled on your waist, and your discomfort grew.

“Do you remember the first day we met?”

You shook your head, and his desperation grew.

“No, I-.”

“Our first kiss? The first time we had sex?”

“Peter, I-.”

“I remember all of it. I remember what it was like to touch you and hold you and-.”

“Peter, please. You’re scaring me…”

He paused at that, staring at you for a long time before his hands tightened on your waist.

“Something in you remembers. I could feel it when you kissed me, and I see it in the way you look at me sometimes,” he whispered, jaw clenching.

You opened your mouth to protest, but your words died in your throat as Peter slowly pushed himself up, pushing himself closer until his nose was brushing against yours. You leaned back, wincing at his tight hold on your waist just as his lips barely brushed yours, so feather light that you could hardly feel it.

“I’m going to make you remember me.”

He swallowed any words you had left, covering your mouth with his own in a hungry kiss that took your breath away. You pushed against him, but unlike last time, he didn’t budge, only pressing himself against you as he forced you back. You were forced to know the extent of his strength as he pinned you beneath him, curving his hips into yours as he dragged his hands down your frame.

It was like your hands were air, doing nothing to deter him as his determination grew. In your fight against him, you lost your shirt, and it wasn’t long before your bottoms followed. The sound of your tearing underwear filled the room, and it almost didn’t feel real, what was happening to you.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispered, his fingers finding a home between your legs, dragging them over your core before pushing them inside.

Your mouth parted, hands pulling at him, trying to pull his away while the other dug your nails into his arm. Before you could say anything else, his lips found yours, tasting the inside of your mouth with vigor. You grew wet from his ministrations, soaking his fingers and the couch below you. You couldn’t stop yourself from clenching around him nor your lashes from fluttering, and he hummed into the kiss, curling and twisting his fingers in whatever way he liked. Really in whatever way you liked, because your body greedily tried to pull him back in every time.

You could feel him pulling at his sweats with his other hand, and that was all the warning you had. The air was knocked out of you when he sank into you to the hilt. Your nails pressed further into his arm, your other hand twisting the back of his shirt against him as you tried to pull him off. His thrusts were slow and gentle, his head into the crook of your neck, and you sank your teeth into your lip.

“I love you,” he chanted against your skin as he peppered kissed over your face and neck and shoulders.

Every slow drag of his cock had your legs shaking, fighting with everything you had to swallow your moans. You squeezed your eyes shut, your walls clinging to him, refusing to let him pull away, so eager to welcome him every time he slid back in. Peter lifted his head, pressing his forehead to yours as he fucked you, brows furrowed in concentration as you blinked. One hand pressed into your stomach, holding you in place so that he could reach behind his head and tug his shirt off. You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, trying to pull it off, but he merely leaned back in to kiss your jaw, his free hand ridding him of his pants completely, hips still slapping against yours.

“Do you remember? How good I made you feel? How happy I made you? We were so happy,” he brokenly moaned.

“Peter, please-.”

“You don’t belong to him,” he whispered. “You’re not supposed to be his.”

You gasped, trying to fight off the pleasure he was filling your body with.

“You’re mine, and I tried to pretend like you’re not,” he sounded pained. “I tried to let you go, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t, baby, I just couldn’t.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, a shaky moan escaping your lips. Your nails dragged down his dewy back, and he groaned at the feel.

“That’s right,” he breathed. “I’m yours.”

“Peter,” you panted. “Please, stop. You h-have to stop.”

You pushed your hands against his arms, feeling the chords of muscle and power beneath the flesh. He kissed you again, shaking his head as his hands found your wrists, pinning them beside your head. A sigh left him before he sharply inhaled, breathing you in.

“Never,” he said. “I lost everyone. I’m not losing you- I can’t lose you.”

One of his hands let you go, firmly gripping your face to hold you in place as he forced another kiss onto your lips.

“If I can’t make you remember,” he started, voice gravely and thick with longing. “…then I’ll make sure you never forget.”

tags: @xoxabs88xox @mcudarklibrary @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @notyourtypicalrose @sebabestianstan101 @opheliadawnwalker3 @pinkzsugar @villanellevi @cheeseburgersstuff @navybrat817 @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @nightsinneverland @alexakeyloveloki @grayxswan @undecidedsworld @fanfic-fangirl @peach-buns-unicorns @vicmc624 @virtualpeanutartisanjudge @weird-mumbling @outlawedmando @izzfizzh @everything-is-awesomesauce @donutloverxo @wondergal2001 @rosalynshields @mandiiblanche @stinkywhore @lunaticgurly @shippers-heart @van0413 @local-witch-of-mn @youlovetkay @eralen @chimaeracabra @dontbescaredtosingalong @lokislastlove @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @trinittyy @hyoyeoniie @gotnofucks @oneoftheprettynerds @doozywoozy @melli0112 @buckybarnesplumwhore @kvzctam @mansaaay @pearlkitten33

#dark!peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #no way home spoilers #nwh spoilers #dubcon/noncon

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years ago

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Made for Him VII

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, blood and gore, violence, death, grief, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Peter finds himself alone after the loss of those around him, so he decides to find a cure to his grief.

Characters: Peter Parker

Note: Sleepover today! I am tryna prioritise this because Halloween is already here and it is a themed sort of fic. Anyway, this chapter is kinda rough. Sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.

Love you all like Garfield loves lasagna. Take care. 💖

The Creator

Peter was startled when he realised. When he looked over the top of his book and realised she was gone. He sat up, nearly dropping the book entirely as he twisted in the chair and looked around. The television played the credits as the wobbly orchestra played over the columned text. He dumped the book in his seat as he stood, heart thrumming behind his ears.

The creak from overhead drew his eyes up. He huffed as he calmed, just slightly. The heavy stomp of her feet assured him she was not far, though he didn’t remember why she left. Had she said something to him? He found it hard to concentrate the longer he waited and their talk hadn’t inspired her to let him do more than his usual kisses. It was as if it had only scared her further away.

He went to the stairs against the wall and listened to the clamour from above. Curious, he tilted his head as he heard her giggling. He climbed carefully, keeping his steps light as his superhuman abilities aided in his silent ascent. He gripped the railing at the top and looked down at his white knuckles. The wood groaned in his grasp.

Sometimes, he forgot what he was. Who he used to be. A hero. He was Spider-man and here he was tiptoeing around this creature… woman. What was he so afraid of? She belonged to him. He gave her life, he gave her everything. It only felt more offensive that she should act so distant.

He continued down the hall and saw the top of her shadow as he neared the bedroom. He slowed and peered around the frame. The bed was a mess, the blanket half off and draped down to the floor as the sheet was totally stripped away. She held it around her body, swathed like a dress as she looked at herself in the mirror and turned, admiring the way she’d wrapped it. She was smiling at her reflection.

He watched her calmly, quietly. She didn’t notice him as she pulled the top tighter and tried to fluff out the tails. Her clothing was littered on the floor and the sheet drooped down her back as she tried to fix it. She was growing frustrated as the length weighed down the rest and she couldn’t get the top to hold with just a tuck. Peter let out a wispy breath as he felt the twitch in his pants.

“Where’d you go?” He said at last, spooking her so that her eyes rounded and she barely caught the sheet before it dropped entirely. It opened down her back and revealed her round ass and the curved arch of her back. She faced him with a bashful trill.

“Peter!” She clustered the sheet around her front.

“What are you doing in here?” He asked as he entered, unashamed as he felt himself bulging in his pants.

“Nothing,” she lied.

He grinned, trying to ease her, “Let me help.”

“No, I… dumb!” She proclaimed in embarrassment.

“No, it’s okay,” he neared her and reached for the sheet. He barely got a hold of it as she tried to avoid him. “Here, turn around.”

He pulled the sheet away and she clung to it, just for a moment before she obeyed. He noticed more and more how she hesitated to listen to him. But in the end, she always did. He let the sheet fall straight as he held it over her shoulders to hang in front of her. She turned to face her reflection again as he lowered it and pulled it taut to her chest.

Her nipples poked against the cotton and for a moment, he didn’t move as he took in the silhouette of her figure through the fabric. He swallowed a hum and put the end of the sheet to the middle of her back. She held her arms up as he began to wind it around her figure. She watched him as he came around her front and overlapped it, wrapping her nearly three times before securing it under her arm.

He let his fingers trail down what would be the bodice and she wiggled her shoulders and leaned to the right as she tried to see around him. He sighed and stepped aside so she could see his work. She tugged at the lower half, trying to fluff it out. He turned to check out the view from the side and she looked at him again.

“You did it,” she exclaimed and clapped, “pretty!”

He kept his lips sealed as his dick ached. If she noticed the outline of his need, she didn’t let him now. She was too focused on her makeshift gown to care. He hated that. There was always something more interesting to him.

“You’re welcome,” he said as he framed his hip and watched her.

“Oh!” She furled her fingers and looked at him guiltily, “thank you. I forgot.”

“It’s fine,” he said, dully.

“I like. Thank you.” She repeated, “you nice, Peter. Always give.”

Once more, she was looking at herself. She stepped closer and her smile wavered as she reached to trace the scars around her neck. She shrugged as if to forget them and dropped her clumsy hands.

Peter’s heart swelled and his groin knotted. It wasn’t exactly the best moment for it but when was the moment? After their talk, she was too confused to let him touch her and in the days since, she’d flitted away from him several times. And when she let him kiss her, she stopped him for some other distraction.

“Will you do something for me now?” He asked quietly, so low he wasn’t sure he actually said it.

She bounced as she broke away from the mirror and turned to him. His hand ran without thinking across the front of his pants. Her smile wavered as her eyes followed the movement. She twiddled her fingers before her and raised her brows. The dark bob she chose that day neatly trimmed her face and brought out her beauty.

“What do?” She asked in a tremor as she watched him squeeze himself through his shorts. He gasped as he couldn’t control himself, the pulsing of his dick throbbing through every part of him.

“You remember before?”

“I…” she looked to the floor, “yes, remember.”

Anger surged in him, for just a moment. How could she not want him? She owed him. After all he’d done and she acted so afraid. She was his! She was made for him.

“It hurts, again,” he went to the foot of the bed and sat, “and you love me, don’t you? You want to make me feel good?”

“Yes, love. Feel good but… why feel bad?”

“Because,” he pinched the button of his fly, “because I want you, precious. Don’t you want me?”

Her lashes flicked and she nodded frantically. She grabbed the sheet around her hips and lifted it as she came towards him. She stopped in front of him and folded her hands.

“I do what want,” she tried to smile and her lip tugged from within as she bit it.

He was annoyed. She was making him feel rotten for asking. But he needed it and he’d asked now. A yes was a yes.

He picked open his fly and pushed down the zipper. He lifted himself and rolled his pants to his thighs, just enough to pull out his aching length. He twitched as he brushed the bulging vein along his shaft and sat back down. She stood, waiting, staring at her hands.

“Here,” he stroked himself, just to feel the tingle, “get down.” He pointed to the floor, “on your knees.”

“Knees?” She wondered aloud.

“Trust me,” he said, “don’t you?”

She nodded and kept her gaze down. She moved the bottom of the sheet as she lowered herself and he held his hand out to her. She took it and he guided her closer as she settled on the floor. She wouldn’t look at what he was doing, even as he placed her hand around his dick.

“You don’t have to–” he huffed as he held her fingers tight.

“No, love,” she brought her eyes to his, “I do.”

She pumped her hand suddenly, slipping from beneath his and he spasmed in surprise. He slapped his hands onto the bed as his stomach tightened and she did it again, to his tip then back down. She gripped him tight, so tight. Fuck.

He grunted as he watched her but the methodical rhythm of her strokes irritated him, making it hard to latch onto the ultimate end. He whimpered at the sensitivity of his head as her fingers passed over it and he grabbed her wrists, stilling her. He couldn’t cum like this, not with this dry friction.

“Precious,” he purred as he leaned forward, brushing her chin with his fingers as he made her look at him, “will you try something else?”

Her eyes nearly popped out but she nodded again. “What make happy?”

“I told you, sometimes, that… we– you can—” he ran his knuckles up and down her neck and rubbed her chin again, “use your mouth.”

“Mouth…” She reached to touch her lips.

“Yes, um, on me,” he looked down as she squeezed him so tight he exclaimed, “fuck.”

“Sor–” She took her hand away as he released her, “I hurt?”

“A little,” he said, “but if you…” his heart flickered and he tilted his head and pointed to his mouth, “I did it to you, remember?”

Her eyes drifted in thought. She swallowed and shifted closer on her knees. Her lashes batted and he circled his fingers around his base, angling his tip as she watched his dick. She looked scared but she didn’t stop him.

“Just open your mouth, precious,” he coaxed, “alright?”

She parted her lips and he moved his hand behind her head, his other still firmly around his length. He urged her down and poked past her soft lips. She squeaked in surprise but let him keep going. He nudged her slowly onto him, her wet tongue sliding down as her warmth welcomed him. He touched the back of her throat and she tried to pull away.

He held her down, gripping her head harder. She pressed her hands to the rumple of his pants across his thigh and he pulled up and back down, coating his dick with her saliva, easing his intrusion. He bobbed her up and down, her wig slipping in his grasp. He ripped it off entirely and clamped her head between both hands, feeling the ridges of her scars.

“That’s it, precious,” he groaned as his eyes rolled back and he felt his peak rising, “fuck, that’s so good.”

He felt her squirming as he pushed her head down, past the resistance of her throat. The slick noise of her around him added to the pool of heat in his core. He squeeze his thigh, sinking her nails in as she gagged around him. He moved his hand down to her jaw and cradled her face as he fucked it. He felt warmth leak onto his hand. She was crying.

He didn’t care. He couldn’t. He was going to cum. He need to cum.

#peter parker #dark peter x reader #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #made for him #horror au #au #spider-man #avengers #mcu #marvel #frankenstein

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fettuccin-e · 2 years ago

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Peter Parker Fic Recs

Hi gang,, my Andrew Garfield phase is still going strong and I love TASM so much omg. These fics are fucking amazing so give these authors so much love (especially by commenting and reblogging!!) also if you are one of these authors and you’d like to be removed from this list, let me know!!

🌼 - Fluff 🌺 - Smut 🥀 - Angst

Crush by @ptersparkers 🌼

>> You only know Spider-Man, the hero that you have managed to strike up an unlikely friendship with. Peter has been pining for you from behind the mask, but everything starts to fall apart when you tell him about your new crush at school. (THIS IS SO FUCKING CUTE BRO)

Best Friend by @ptersparkers 🥀🌼

>> You’ve been in love with Peter Parker, your best friend since childhood, for years. You’re fine pining from a distance, but then Peter gets a pretty new girlfriend and starts to pull away from you. (Ugh I love it when hot men have to grovel for forgiveness,,, I love the angst holy shit)

In the Real World by @luveline 🥀🌼

>> You notice something about Spider-Man during a violent villain showdown, then you have to save his life. (Omg the angst??? The hurt/comfort?? Life-changing, truly)

Shadow Creatures by @spidervee 🌼

>> The one where they’re roommates, then something more, then something absolutely perfect. (This is so cute I love roommates to lovers and I always go “and they were roommates” like the vine when I read them.)

Sweet Dreams by @liz-allyn 🌺

>> Peter comes home from patrol desperate and horny. You look so beautiful in bed, and Peter doesn’t have it in himself to resist. (this is fucking PORN and it’s mostly for me bc I have a horrendous daddy kink so yeah)

"It Hurts to Breathe" ask by @spidervee 🥀🌼

>> Thrown into the Hudson in the dead of winter, you know that you’ll probably die. Your husband, who just so happens to be Spider-Man, isn’t going to let that happen. (BRO I LOVE HUSBAND!PETER SM the hurt/comfort in this is just fantastic)

I Know That Voice by @stylesparker 🌼

>> When you get attacked, Spider-Man manages to save you. That’s all well and good, except Spider-Man’s voice sounds very familiar. Too familiar. (Omg best friends to lovers mutual pining and the dialogue??? It’s so funny and natural it’s so fucking amazing)

One in the Same by @finnwrld 🥀🌼

>> You spend your nights telling Spider-Man, your friend, about ‘the boy’ you have a crush on. What you don’t know is that behind the mask, Peter Parker is desperately in love with you. (BESTIES can you tell I love hurt/comfort and mutual pining??? It’s getting to be a problem but I love this fic sm)

Flipping the Script by @readerthatreadsss 🌺

>> You’ve been in a relationship with Peter for a while, and throughout that time, you’ve always been the more dominant one in the bedroom. But, one night, Peter comes up with a few interesting ideas. And with that sloppy grin on his face, you couldn’t help but give in and hand over the reigns for a night. (MORE PORN I am a slut what can I say)

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

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peoplesgraves · 2 years ago

Note

General headcanons for yandere peter parker please

Yandere Peter Parker Headcanons

•He just wants to see you happy and he’ll do anything for it. Literally every bit of free time he has is spent campaigning for you to win prom queen or cheering on the sidelines while you play a sport. Whatever it is that makes you happy, makes Peter happy now too.

•He spends every spare penny on getting gifts he thinks you’ll like. Has he forgone dinner just to get some cute trinket he saw and thought of you? Absolutely and he’ll do it again.

•Peter is so attentive to your needs. He knows almost before you do when you forgot your lunch or didn’t finish homework for a class. Before you can even ask for help he’s already giving you his own lunch or homework answers.

•He tries hard not to be a stalker but he just gets so anxious. That’s the only reason he follows you home and watches you from the shadows whenever you’re not together. He just wants to make sure that you don’t get hurt…the fact that he gets to see you at your most vulnerable and learn even more about his favorite subject are just little bonuses.

•Peter loves seeing you at your most vulnerable. When you’re crying he wants to be the only one you can turn to. When you consider yourself at your least attractive or likable then Peter wants to be there. Not because he likes when you feel bad but just because he wants to be the only one who can help you and love you in times like this. Actually maybe some sick part of him likes being the hero, it’s a good bonding experience at the very least.

•Peters love languages are physical touch and quality time. He’ll happily show love in whatever way you prefer but he wants to be shown love in those ways. He wants to lay on your lap while you play with his hair and talk about your day, that’s all he needs. Not spider man or Ned or Mj. Just you and him.

•Peter isn’t big on kidnapping. He’d much rather just work his way into your life until you have no choice but to be with him. Suddenly all your friends prefer him over you and start to turn against you if you don’t like him, your family invites him over all the time and constantly tries to set you up together. Your only choices are to be loved Peter or to be loved by no one.

#yandere marvel #yandere mcu #yandere avengers #yandere peter parker #yandere spider man #yandere spiderman #yandere superhero

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peterthepark · 3 years ago

Text

begin again (7)

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

tags: angst, fluff, mentions of blood and weapons, descriptions of wounds, descriptions of suturing, 6.3k words of pure love

summary: you and peter navigate your way around his secret, leading to hearts opening up and what should’ve been a peaceful morning.

notes: okay i genuinely think theres one to two chapters left after this!!! love this story with all my heart but all good things must come to an end <3 but for now, enjoy this chapter!

missing out? ➤ [my masterlist] - [series masterpost]

The tension in the air could cut glass. Every obnoxious creak and footstep from the floor above seemed nothing short of tumultuous.

A police siren echoed by the glass frosty windows while incessant flashes of scarlet reds and dark blues illuminated the apartment walls, reminding Peter of the sweat and blood that has been poured into this godforsaken city. Was it all worth it? Just for it to come to this? All of his attempts to protect you, were they for nothing? He was equivocally cursed, as if being a hero wasn’t enough to balance the karmic consequences in his life. What was the point of saving other people when he couldn’t save himself? What was the point when none of it eventually led to you?

Every time he was so close to touching the sky, he would fall back to Earth like an angel with clipped wings.

Peter was Icarus. You were the Sun.

Would he ever be able to reach the clouds?

His head throbbed painfully while the colors of the apartment diluted to nothingness, the dirty cracks of his palms ever prominent. The walls haven’t been this quiet in ages. It feels wrong, it feels empty, but Peter could hear the static of your mind even in the silence, even despite the distance between the shadows of your bodies. For the first time, Peter isn’t able to decipher the emotions that lay behind your lifeless eyes.

His voice came out as a weak, defeated crackle.

“Say something, please?” His broken fingers shakily reached out for you. “Y/N, come on, please.” A choked gasp left your body, and your hand trailed up your tear-stained face to cover your mouth.

All at once, the shock merged into utter betrayal. The deep furrow in your eyebrows tugged into a raised line as your words broke the tightness in your throat.

“Who are you?”

You stepped back as Peter stepped forward. “It’s me.” He shook his head at you, feigning a smile as pained tears prickled at his vision. “Same old me. It’s Peter.”

The scene in front of him pulled at his heart when you slowly doubled over, grasping at your sweatshirt in an effort to ground yourself as muted sobs pounded through your ribcage. “Oh, my god.” He rushed over to you, ignoring the way his skin felt like it was ripping to pieces when his arms abruptly encircled you.

“It’s me. I’m sorry. It’s me.”

“You’re Spider-Man.”

It wasn’t a question anymore, but rather, a dreaded statement of acceptance that he never wished to ever hear from you. Regret filled him instantaneously.

He has flashbacks to that night he had lost Gwen.

“Y/N. Come here.”

Muffled with his mouth pressed to the top of your head, the syllables of your name left him woeful. You felt the unyielding fear radiate off of his body, seeping into the coolness of your own. Peter was trembling, his limbs desperately trying to entangle with yours as if you would disappear at any moment. All traces of affliction had vanished into a simple memory when you saw that his blood had transferred onto your hands, where red fingerprints littered your skin. You erratically wiped at your tears when the liminal shade reminded you of how you lost your parents.

This was no time to feel hurt when Peter was.

Your firm whisper had cut through the rigid air, “You’re bleeding, what do I do?”

“That doesn’t matter right now. Talk to me.”

“Peter, your fucking blood is everywhere. It is on me. It is on the floor. It is on my fucking counters and my sofa. You need to tell me what to do or else I’m sending you to a goddamned hospital before this place looks like a crime scene.” You finally looked up at him. “We can talk later.” He immediately missed the familiar scent of your hair when his cheek left the comfort of your head. Your hands found his hips, delicately leading him back into the couch. “I just need you to tell me. I don’t know what to do.”

He thinks he’s lost himself in your eyes all over again.

“Stitches. Bandages. Do you have a first aid kit?”

“I don’t.”

“Fuck, uh. I have one in my bathroom, but I don’t have my keys on me…” You turned your back on him, padding over to the window near your potted plants. His face hardened when your fingers curled beneath the ledge. You roughly pulled it up until a harsh breeze sprinted throughout the room. “What are you doing? Y/N?” You didn’t answer, legs swinging up and over the fire escape while the cruel snow began to nip at your ears and your exposed forearms. “Hey! What the fuck are you doing? Get inside! Y/N!”

Peter completely lost all composure when you jumped to the window of his apartment, landing on the metal grating of the nostalgic fire escape with newfound scrapes on your palms. The injured boy tried to pace his breathing while he stared at the ceiling light — too immobilized by the sharp pain in his stomach. He could hear the shuffling of you entering his living room, then how you made your way through the messiness of his hall until you hurriedly rummaged for the kit in his bathroom.

Then, your movements suddenly became too quiet for his own liking. Peter couldn’t help but panic.

“Y/N?” He shouted, hoping you’d hear him through the wall. His voice was hoarse as he kept pressure over his wound. “Y/N!” He hissed through clenched teeth, legs unable to stay still on the sofa. Peter gasped out in relief when you reemerged into view, cheeks gaunt and lips bluing from the cold as you maneuvered yourself back into the apartment. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Your place is a mess.” You quipped. You shut the window in one motion, tossing the first aid kit onto the sofa as you went to wash your hands and get rid of the blood. “But I guess you don’t have enough time to clean anyways since you’re so busy getting yourself killed.”

“Y/N.”

“I don’t know how to suture a wound,” You dried yourself off with a paper towel. You walked back to him with long strides, avoiding his gaze as you sat beside him. “I can do it for you, but you’ll need to teach me. Is that okay?”

“I can do it myself.” He shook his head at you, propping himself up against a pillow.

“You’re in no condition to do so.”

“Y/N, I’m okay.”

“You’re shaking. How are you gonna stitch yourself when your fingers are all messed up?” Peter flexed his jaw, nostrils flaring as he stared at you despite your stubbornness. He’d been lying if he said this didn’t feel familiar, his case of deja vu was strong. He hasn’t had anyone fix him ever since Gwen, the last person to ever touch his wounds, to take his suit off and reach for his heart. Peter succumbed with a weak nod, eyes never leaving your face as you helped him shrug his jacket down his shoulders without a thought. “Shirt off.”

“Was hoping to hear that in the bedroom.” He chuckled jokingly. He could imagine you rolling your eyes. “Not while bleeding out on your sofa.”

You held back your scoff. “Pete, you’re not funny.”

The nickname felt consoling.

“Sorry, just trying to make you feel better.” He frowned, studying your body language meticulously as you slipped on a pair of blue surgical gloves.

A faint sigh left you. “I’ll feel better once you do.” Peter was torn. He didn’t know what you were thinking for once and it irked him. He thought that it would be better for either of you to never address the confession, his secret: the fact that he was Spider-Man. But as he studied the vacant look on your face, he would have rather you lashed out. He would have preferred a punch to the face or a string of heavy curses at him. But your anger presented itself as silent and that was even scarier – it spoke volumes. He didn’t miss the way your eyes fixed onto his suit. Almost in astonishment, you traced the embedded spider symbol with reverential fingertips. “You made all of this?” Peter could feel you through the lycra material, and it sent a shiver down his body as you hesitantly reached behind him to feel the zipper whilst he nodded. Your gaze flickered up to his. “Can I take it off?”

Peter held your stare for longer than he meant to. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” He surveyed you patiently as you unzipped the neck of the suit, peeling it off of his skin with the lightest touch – like he was so delicate. Like he wasn’t capable of hurting you when the both of you knew exactly what he was capable of. Like you hadn’t witnessed what he’d done to those criminals before you knew who he was. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“It won’t. Not with you.” Your face was irresistibly close to his, and he found it difficult to concentrate when your lips looked so inviting. Unsure breaths fanned over his cheeks as you pushed the suit down to his hips, letting it pool over his lap. With his chest now bare, you could see the scratches and slices along his pale skin. They were an aggressive color, and the bleeding gash along his stomach made you wince visibly at the thought of what kind of knife was used. Your hair brushed against his arm as you turned to the first aid kit, preparing to set aside a few tools on the coffee table. “Now, you’ll take the thing that looks like scissors.”

“The forceps?”

Peter coughed through a grunt. “Yes, those.” He shifted, laying back a bit to give you access to the gash on his stomach. “Grab the needle with it. It’s the curved one, not straight.” With fearful eyes, you faced him again. “It’s not a deep wound, see?” He guided your hands with his, placing your fingers on either edge of the cut. “We’ll go slow and steady. I won’t feel a thing.”

“How fast do you heal?”

“Two to three days. This one might take a little longer, but it’s okay.” You looked far-away, almost as if you were spending too much time in your own head. “Y/N.” Peter slowly took the suturing tools from you, then gingerly touched your jaw to bring you back to this moment with him. “Look at me, Y/N.” Your pupils met each other with ease. His lips tugged into an ardent smile; yours had done the same. “Hey, you.”

You had never sounded so quiet. In fact, Peter never realized how soft your voice was until now. “Hi.”

“What are you thinking about right now, beautiful?” He whispered as he searched the details of your features.

He memorized the way your teeth tugged on your bottom lip anxiously, how you eventually leaned into the palm of his hand like you had been craving his touch the entire night. You inhaled deeply, and that was all it took before tears ran down your cheeks. Peter pulled you into his arms, feeling the weight of your sobs against his shoulder.

“How come you – you didn’t tell me?”

He lifted your chin off of himself to look at you, thumb and pointer finger resting beneath your jaw. “How could I?” He narrowed his eyes for emphasis. “Couldn’t put you at risk like that, Y/N.”

You gulped, messily patting at your nose with your sleeve. “Am I not trustworthy enough?”

Peter laughed with fondness at you and rubbed his forehead against yours. “Baby, I trust you with my life.”

A hearty bubble of a giggle left your body. “Are you calling me ‘baby’ because I called you that?”

“Because I care about you.” His fingers traced over the skin of your throat then dipped into the concavity in your collarbone. “Because I like you.” He touched your lips, nose nudging against yours as he closed his eyes in unswerving rapture. “Because I want you – I adore you, I need you.” You let out a startled gasp as his mouth hovered over your neck, bestowing earnest kisses upon you as he gauged how your body reacted to him. “Y/N, I think the world of you. I could never not trust you.”

The thought rarely crossed your mind, but when it did, it felt like searing pain inside your heart. You couldn’t help but ask.

“When you see me, do you think of Gwen?”

Peter was stunned, pulling back to properly look at you.

“What?”

“Do you?”

“I would never want you to be Gwen.” He cradled your face. “Never. I don’t want that.”

You shrugged, insecurities running through your mind as everything began to connect. His loss, his hesitation, the reasons as to why he needed to keep you from knowing his secret. “Why?”

Peter’s eyebrow twitched in thought before the words came to him so easily.

“Because the way you look out for me is… it’s different. I don’t want to compare, but it’s just different.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “You got so angry with me, Y/N.” A flash of confusion washed over you. He wasn’t finished. “Earlier. The way you looked at me. It was genuine anger at most and I really never saw you like that until today. It showed me that it matters.”

“Matters? What does?”

“That my life matters. That I hated seeing you angry, you crying, you in pain. And how you care for me, well, it’s just different now — isn’t it? I was scared when you opened that door. I was scared for you, more than for myself. But when you looked at me… like I was so fragile, like I could break any second. I felt it. I felt it for the first time in a while — that I was scared to die. Because if I died then I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t have you and if it wasn’t for the reality check that was that anger, I wouldn’t have felt human.” He fought back tears, continually touching your skin to ground himself. “You make me feel human. Like it’s okay to make mistakes. Like it’s okay to forgive myself and it’s okay to feel even though emotions are complicated.” You glanced down at his wound, but he was quick to touch your chin and bring your gaze back to him. “It’s okay to love. It’s okay to want to start anew, begin all over again. It’s okay to remember my past, but I need to look forward to my future.”

You placed your hand over his beating heart. “Do you see your future?”

“I’m looking right at it.”

You kissed him. His mouth was slow against yours, savoring every drop of you and your skin as his fingers mindlessly roamed beneath the fabric of your sweatshirt. You could taste the blood off of him, but it didn’t bother you. You wanted more of Peter, and from how warm his palms were as they roamed upon your stomach, you could tell he wanted more too. Yet, you could sense the pain of his body — how his movements felt heavier, dragging, like he was exhausted.

You forced yourself to pull away from him. He groaned, not in agony, but at the loss of contact. “Let me fix you, okay?”

“Just kiss me again. S’all I need.” Your noses touched. Peter lingered by your lips longingly. “Y/N…”

“You’re bleeding.” You shook your head at him, showing restraint. “We need to stitch that wound unless you want me to…” You sighed blissfully when he nibbled at your jaw. “… get an ambulance.” His fingers pressed into your waist. “Peter, come on.”

He exhaled against you, “Okay.” He nodded, licking the taste of your chapstick off of his lips. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You cradled his cheek. “Tell me what to do.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be with you every step.”

You laid him up against the sofa before you ran a clean towel under the sink to clean the bloody wound — he could see how nervous you were. Your eagerness to help him was endearing, however, as you quickly approached him. Peter could tell you were trying your best to be gentle. The feathery touches reminded him of the stolen glances and the way your fingers would subtly brush against his when he first met you — shy, scared, afraid of what was going to come next. If only he could tell his past-self that it would be alright. He watched you with diligence, making sure that you weren’t piercing the needle too deep into his skin as you started the first throw — a simple knot with two loops. He felt his heart jump whenever you’d look at him, silently wondering if you were doing a decent job. Peter would smile, and push your hair back away from your eyes.

The silence hadn’t been so angry anymore.

“So, all those times that you were making noise on the other side of the wall…”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” He chuckled as a playful smile began to form on your lips.

You glanced at him, snipping the excess thread of his sutures. “And the ‘I need help moving my sofa’ thing, that was bullshit too?” He nodded, mouth moving to speak until you interrupted with a snort. “Oh, my god. You absolute whore.” Peter gasped at the remark. You wagged a gloved finger at him. “You stalked me in the subway station too. Near Brooklyn.”

“First off, how dare you.” He ruffled your hair, laughing as you complained with a string of whining. “I did not stalk you. I ran into you. You know what?”

“What?”

“You said I had nice muscles.”

“Okay, yes! I did, it’s true. I’m not done yet. You gotta tell me about the Spider-Man boxers, don’t you think that’s a little conceited?”

Peter pouted, avoiding your gaze out of embarrassment as he gestured with a hand. “They were on sale.” You shook your head at him. He noticed the glimmer of amusement in your eyes, but your face soon fell as you finished the remainder of his stitches. “Y/N?”

“Mhm?”

“You’re caught up in that big head of yours again.”

“Yeah.” Your lips pursed together.

“Something crossed your mind?”

“You know, you saved me that night.” The sounds of scissors snipping filled the air. “In Hell’s Kitchen. And I looked at you…. and…. I don’t know. I felt something.”

“I did too.” Peter got quiet, chewing on his lip as he cleared his throat and gazed off to the side. “I’ve always wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you reached inside the first aid kit, scoffing at his unnecessary apology. “Why are you sorry?”

“Your parents. If I got there sooner — I wish I got there. That wasn’t fair to you.”

You shushed him. “You can’t change what happened.” His shoulders deflated as you kissed his forehead. “You can’t, and sometimes that’s okay.”

“Do you get mad about it?”

“Of course.” You nodded. “I get mad knowing they died for such — such fucking shit reasons.” Your jaw clenched. Peter studied the look in your eyes, knowing that feeling all too well from what happened with Uncle Ben and Gwen. “I tell everyone and myself that I’ve moved on from that night. But… but no one tells you how hard it is to lose your parents, especially because I was so young and I had no one else, really. I think that hurt more than them dying. Being alone.”

“Do you think…” Peter lovingly drew circles on your thigh while listening intently. “…that Fisk deserves the same fate?”

You paused, pulling the bandage out of its sleeve before you were laying it across Peter’s skin. “I do. Sometimes.” He hummed as you gently smoothed down the dressing. “I think he deserves to pay. Not with death, but — but he just does. I know he shouldn’t get away with this.”

“I tried. I visited one of his warehouses tonight.” Peter scoffed regretfully. “Full of his fuckin’ men. It was bait.”

“Peter.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve —should’ve said something about where I was going. I didn’t want you to follow in case.” He shuddered at the idea of you trying to find him and running into what he encountered. And again, he’d be too late. He didn’t want to think about it.

“Well, you’re pretty stupid for that.” You helped him sit up, arms holding him by his broad shoulders. “You left a note. The bookmark in Pride and Prejudice with all the addresses, was that it?”

“Fuck. You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“What did you find out?”

“I don’t know. I just… your name was thrown out a couple times. Your parents. Something about that and — and money, lots of it.”

You fiddled with your necklace nervously. “My parents worked for Fisk. It makes sense now.” Peter reached for your hand. “It was, uh, a loan. A business loan, probably for bad things. Dunno why I always thought they were so innocent or so normal. I guess they never paid Fisk back. An altercation or something happened, and well… you know how the rest pans out. My whole Batman origin story.”

“I do.” He scoffed dryly at the joke. “I should’ve said something that night.”

You chuckled, shutting the first aid kit and pushing it aside as you shifted closer to Peter. “Like what?” He raised his arm up, softly pulling you to his chest. He felt warm. You liked how easy this felt, your scents intermingled, how his body ignited yours, his heartbeat in your ear like a symphony — all of him felt so easy, like it was always meant to be this way.

“I should’ve comforted you, or something. Rather than just leaving without saying a word like a complete idiot. I wish I had said a lot of things to you.” He glanced at the faded picture of you and Sam on the shelf. “Not even just back then, Y/N.”

“Hm.” You looked up at Peter. His fingers slipped under your chin to hold your gaze. “You can tell me now. All the things you wanted to say to me, but didn’t.”

“You just wanna hear me be nice to you.” He blushed shyly, stroking your cheek with a curled finger. “My thoughts… they’re — I wouldn’t wanna overwhelm you more than I already have. Just stupid thoughts.”

“I’ll tell you my stupid thoughts too.”

His hazel-flaked eyes were dilated, searching yours endlessly like he could spend days admiring you. You saw autumn in his irises, brown leaves falling upon green flowered grass like he was a meadow in spring.

“Christ… I guess,” Peter sighed; his other hand still rested on his bandage as you blinked patiently at him. “Uh, when you first opened that front door… and you greeted me, I thought you were so gorgeous. Even though you looked so annoyed, you were pretty. Felt like a dumbass, asking you to move a sofa with me.” You shared a knowing look. You could feel him pulling you even closer. “I knew then that I wanted to be your friend, at that time. Just friends. No matter how infuriating you were and adamant you were on getting me to like your shitty podcast.” He laughed at himself. “Stupid, huh?”

You wiped at the dried blood by his eyebrow, shaking your head at him with an adoring smile. “Stupid.”

“Stupid.” He huffed. “Your turn.”

“That day we saw each other in the subway. I was staring at you for a long time way before you were staring at me — ow!”

He elbowed you hard. “And you called me a stalker? Me? What was it that you said to me?” You groaned, rubbing your hip with mumbled curses while he mimicked the pitch of your voice with newfound amusement. “Ogling me, Peter? Really?”

“Oh, see, I was gonna say something nice, but now you’ve just gone and ruined it.”

His apology came in the form of a soft kiss to your lips, one that lingered for too long to be called a peck. His nose brushed against yours, his voice dipping to a breathy tone. “Sorry. Go on, then.”

“I was thinking to myself that… maybe you aren’t so bad. That I liked looking at you.” You ran a thumb over his cupid’s bow. “Thought that I could get used to looking at you all the time. And that itself would be the highlight of my day.” You felt his lips part under your thumb, a smile threatening to break loose. “So stupid.”

Those brown eyes became softer with endearment as he repeated after you. “So stupid.”

“You again.”

He tenderly brushed your hair away from your forehead, features ridden with exhaustion and drunk off of your fond gaze. “I lied to you in that café.” Peter doesn’t let you interrupt him. “When I said… when I said that I liked you.” He gulped, a shaky exhale leaving his body. “That’s such bullshit, Y/N. I wanted to say something else, but – but I was scared.”

“What do you mean?” You lifted your head with knitted eyebrows as his grip grew tighter.

“The word ‘like’ is so funny, don’t you think? We use it to talk about all of our favorite things. You know, I like coffee. I like reading. I like how you look at me and I like the perfume you always use. I like how pretty you look in the mornings and how even prettier you look right now. I like being here with you.” His hand covers the entirety of the side of your face, fingers tucking itself by your jaw while tears blurred his vision. “But ‘like’ can only go so far. It’s such a simple word for what I feel towards you. Y/N, I don't even think a dictionary can help me. It just doesn’t exist — that… that word.” He hurriedly wiped the tears away from his eyes and lashes. “Stupid, see?”

“I think there’s one for it, Pete.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “Love.”

“Love.” He repeated. The word left him in a whisper.

Love was one of those terms he hadn’t uttered aloud in ages, fearful that it would be too much in too little time – again, not since Gwen. A lot of things hadn’t happened since Gwen, but here he was, replaying how ‘love’ rolled off of your tongue again and again in his head. How could he become addicted to it so quickly? It felt like a drug. It felt right. And he liked it – no, he loved it. He loved how you said ‘love’ and looked at him with such unwavering hope that made him want to wrap you in his arms and never, ever let go of you. You made him feel like life was a dream, as if his days were just pictures on grainy film and his nights were nothing but sweet, sweet illusions of magic. But this, being here with you, it was no dream or illusion. It was reality and that was everything.

“We can just start from there.” You smiled sweetly at him. “Let’s start with love and see what words we can find after, yeah?” He stared as you quietly picked a fallen eyelash from his face with an innocent smile. “Hm, now make a wish, Pete.”

“Don’t need to.”

“Why’s that?”

“I got everything I need right here, Y/N.” He looked at you, then Webster who lingered by the bedroom hallway in the midst of your conversation. He took the tiny strand of hair from you, holding it between his thumb and pointer finger. “I do wish that you’ll forgive me for all the times I lied to you, though.”

“All is forgiven, spidey.”

“Good.” He kept his enthusiasm restrained, ignoring how his body bubbled with anticipation when you leaned into him.

Your lips felt kind and warm. The skin of your cheek was soft, and the frostbite on the button of your nose and tips of your reddened ears were an adorable greeting from winter itself. He wanted to remain in this moment. No fights. No arguments. No secrets and no Fisk. But Peter just couldn’t shake the thought off. Now more than ever, he needed to protect you. He needed to know that he’d wake up to the sound of you cooking in your apartment again, and that he’d see you walking on the sidewalks with your third cup of coffee. He needed to know that your voice would emerge from the other side of the wall like it always did, and that you’d laugh at him or call him a ‘doofus’ for being so loud.

But like before, Peter was petrified. He was excited for what could happen between the two of you, but he was horrified knowing that his time with you could never even be promised or guaranteed.

Who would he become if one day he knocked on your front door and it was no longer you who answered? Who would he become if one day he swung by your window and saw that someone else inhabited your apartment? The pictures of you and Sam, gone. The unwashed dishes and lively plants, gone. Who else would be able to understand him?

It terrified him. Absolutely. But the sensation of your mouth against his was enough to repress the nightmares surrounding his conscience. The feeling of his calloused palms against your hips and waist, the sounds of your needy breaths against his neck, the way your body pushed up against his as he pulled you into his lap with amorous yearning – that would be enough.

This was enough for him. You were enough.

The bedroom window was frosted over. Little, miniscule snowflakes woven intricately found solace on the ledge, blending in with the snowed-in streets outside and broken stop lights that created a whirlwind of traffic. The room was chilly, even with the matching fuzzy socks that you and Peter sported beneath the sheets, and even with Peter’s extreme body heat that made you feel like you were cuddling with a heater. He stirred against you with a groan, pulling you closer towards him despite already suffocating in the grasp of his arms.

Your bodies were ridden with exhaustion, yet the hickies on each other’s necks and the discarded clothes on the floor were a possible attest to the reasons why. You inhaled the scent of Peter, disappointed that he no longer smelled of his usual self after having given him a sponge bath last night. You rolled over to face him, eyes still laced with sleep as you cracked a faint smile at him. He looked peaceful – the most at peace you’ve seen him ever since you’d met one another, and that spoke lengths about how comfortable he was around you. A hero who was willingly allowing his guard down around someone he trusted: that was love in itself. The Spider-Man suit glistened on top of your laundry basket, littered with sliced fabric and crusted blood that didn’t look elegant in the slightest. You pressed a gentle kiss to Peter’s nose before you pried his large hands off of you, stifling a laugh as he mumbled sleepy protests at the lack of you in bed.

“Baby… come back.” His arm stretched towards you, fingers flexing as he emphasized his need. “S’early, what are you up to?”

“Gonna do some chores.” You glanced over to him. It was an endearing sight, his long frame splayed out over the mattress of your queen-sized bed, tangled in forest green sheets and weighted blankets like a little flower. “I’ll join you in a second. Just get some rest, how about that?”

He didn’t reply, only a soft grunt until he was back to quietly snoring once again.

Oh, Peter.

Making sure that you wouldn’t wake him, you slowly slipped on a hoodie. You shook your head at the heart-shaped kisses along your collarbone as you passed by your mirror, admiring his work before you were carefully taking the Spider-Man suit with you into the kitchen. The streets were loud, but the apartment felt quiet – a good quiet, compared to the giant mishap that happened between you and Peter yesterday. It was, again, domestic. Something that you always wanted for yourself, something that you didn’t realize you needed but it was here, and it felt nice. You flicked on the kitchen sink, running the suit under the cold water and over the drain as a soapy mixture of dirt and old blood seeped out of the webbed indentations. It was surreal, at the same time, holding the very thing that you sought after in all your days at the Bugle.

It still hadn’t fully sunk in that Peter was Spider-Man. But it made sense. All the unexplainable things that happened now had an explanation. The cobwebs on his clothes, the noises in his apartment, the new patrol route in your neighborhood, the polaroids.

The polaroids.

You hung the suit over the back of one of the dining chairs, letting it air-dry for now until Peter could wake up. Swiftly, you searched for your wallet, finding the array of pictures inside it. It brought a nostalgic smile to your face – with the knowledge that you had now, it was apparent as to why Peter was so inclined to help you and why Spider-Man never showed up that night. All along, he was sitting right beside you. You felt like an idiot, but you never would’ve known. No matter how many times you thought he was an oddball, you never would’ve thought it was because of his double identity.

Never would’ve guessed.

Peter leaned against the doorway into the kitchen, arms crossed on his shirt-clad chest as he studied you affectionately from across the room.

“Hey, you.”

You jumped, turning towards the sound of his raspy voice with furrowed eyebrows and a look of surprise. “You – you stalker!” Hand over your heart, a laugh graced its way upon your lips. “Scared me, Pete.”

“M’sorry.” He smiled shyly, coming towards you with slow steps before his hands took place on your arms. It reminded you of that night he went into your apartment, worried sick and reeking of protectiveness as he held you in the dark moonlight of your living room. It was a contrast now, except he held you with the same caring fervor. “Good morning, Y/N.”

“Morning, sleepyhead.” He kissed your temple, drawing his lips down your neck as he ghosted over the marks he made. You chuckled at the ticklish sensation, holding the polaroids up to his eyes with a proud smirk. “These are yours, by the way. Return to owner if found.”

“No, no, no.” He protested, shaking his head against you while he pushed the pictures from view. “Yours now. Always been yours.”

The statement held a deeper meaning, but you didn’t need details to know what he meant. You looked up at him with a chuckle, wishing that you could spend forever in his arms. But the collection of articles and documents about Fisk appeared from the corner of your eye. You fought to keep your gaze on the boy in front of you, but it distracted you – and then you were taken back to last night, how Peter knocked on your front door with wounds that he couldn’t even explain, wounds that you didn’t want to think about. And then you thought about your parents: a death that was always to come, but never was deserved. Peter didn’t notice the tension in your jaw, too caught up playing with Webster and what to get for breakfast.

With eyes that didn’t quite meet his, you piped up with an idea that lingered dangerously in your head.

“I’ll get breakfast.” You faked a smile as you subtly picked up the copy of Pride and Prejudice on the coffee table. Your fingers reached for the note of scribbled addresses, to which you pocketed in your sweatpants.

“You should stay. I can do it. Look outside, it’s freezing.” Peter reached for your apartment keys, but you quickly rushed over and captured his lips in a messy kiss. He let out a moan of surprise, laughing against your front teeth as you pulled away. “Still not done?”

“Don’t forget how hard I worked on those stitches. And like I said, you need to rest. I don’t care if you’re a superhero. You’re still my annoying neighbor.” You gestured at his stomach before you were hurriedly putting on your boots. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

Peter didn’t like your eagerness. He didn’t attempt to question you, though. You’d been through too much in the span of one night.

“You better not take too long, Y/N.”

“It’ll be like I never even left.” You scoffed, layering up with a coat. You stood on the tips of your shoes, pressing a long kiss to the brunette’s cheek as you cradled his jaw with gloved hands. “Maybe think about that word other than ‘love’, okay?”

“Hey, be careful.” He grabbed your wrist before you could leave, pulling a beanie over your ears as he admired your face one more time. You put your hand over his and squeezed.

“It’s just breakfast.”

Peter watched you leave with an oblivious smile and eyes full of hope.

218 Front Street, Vinegar Hill, NY.

You were going to find out what Wilson Fisk wanted. And you’d be damned if he hurt someone close to you ever again.

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blooming-violets · 3 years ago

Text

Imminent: Part Three || TASM

Finale || TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

[A Completed Three Part Story]: [Part One] [Part Two]

Summary: Every time you close your eyes to sleep, you’re tormented by visions of future deaths. Sometimes it’s of people close to you and sometimes it’s of strangers. Yet, each time, you know it’s inevitable. There’s nothing you can do to stop death from finding their victims. But when a beautiful, sad, brown eyed man keeps pushing his way into your visions, you can’t help but try.

Warnings: violence, blood, use of knives and guns, mention of a needle

A/N: Thanks for coming along on this weird, little ride with me. It feels nice to have an idea, write it in snippets (the lore in my head goes deep but I just did not have the time or energy to fully bring it to conception), and get it out into the world. I had fun. I hope you did too. -xoKatie

You blinked at him with disbelief, your mouth agape in shock, “You’re Spider-Man?!”

Peter’s eyes widened in shock and an impressed grin grew across his lips, “Holy shit...You really do see stuff in your dreams.”

You sat up, your head suddenly spinning as your body tried to shake off the effects of the Ambien, and you punched his shoulder in frustration, “I thought I was the weird one! You’re Spider-Man! You’re more of a freak than me.”

Peter held up his hands in defense, “Alright, alright. Don’t go screaming it. That defeats the purpose of secret identities.”

It was no wonder he accepted your visions so easily. He'd probably seen much crazier things than you in the past. You had about a million and ten questions buzzing around in your head for him.

“How do you make the webs? How do you stick to walls? What’s it like to swing through the city? Who made your costume? What’s the craziest thing you ever fought? Do you really have Spidey Senses like the media says you do? How many people have you killed? Are you-”

Peter cupped his hands over you mouth to silence you, “We’re getting off track. You’re supposed to tell me how I die, remember? Do you understand why it’s so important now? If I die, Spider-Man dies. I can’t let that happen.”

You swatted his hand away from your mouth and flopped onto your back, staring up at your ceiling. You held Spider-Man’s fate in the palm of your hands. You suddenly felt a lot more pressure than you had before. Maybe your visions weren’t such a burden after all?

He crawled into bed beside you and stifled a yawn. The moon was high in the sky and Peter must have turned on your bedside lamp while you were dreaming for some soft light. A good few hours had passed since you had fallen asleep. You still felt tired and drugged. It was hard to formulate full thoughts. All you knew was that you had a new found desire to save Peter from his fate.

“Do you know any shadow men?” You asked him.

He shook his head ‘no’ and shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t think so but, this past month, I’ve felt like I’m being watched. It’s always by different people. The other day, when you said if felt like his appearance wasn’t set in stone, it got me thinking. I keep running into these weird people. The pizza man who showed up at my house, the lady I get coffee from, random people on the subway, even a cop I spoke to after catching a petty thief. I get a weird feeling when I look at them like there’s something wrong. Like they’re not who they claim to be.”

The memory of watching your own body transform into the black shadow floated through your vision. “Like they’re wearing someone else’s skin?”

Peter shifted his head to stare across the mattress at you, “Exactly.”

“I think that’s the shadow man! That’s who kills you. In the vision, I saw myself. I stabbed you. Then I turned into the shadowy thing. It was as if he had camouflaged himself as me. Do you think he can morph into other people?” It was a strange idea but after finding out your new friend is New York’s famous hero, not much surprised you anymore. “On any other day, I’d say that sounds absolutely absurd, but I can see the future and you’re Spider-Man...so, having someone be able to disguise themselves as another person doesn’t seem that crazy of an idea at this point.”

“He can camouflage himself...like a chameleon,” Peter whispered. He suddenly sat up and looked at you with excitement. “Maybe that’s why you can’t see what he actually looks like? Because he can be anything! If he can take the shape of whoever he wants then he can be anyone when he finally kills me.” The excitement faded from his face and his smile fell as he realized what he had just said. A heavy silence fell over the room. You could see Peter’s mind working a mile a minute behind the hollow, uneasy look in his eye. He swallowed. “...Am I going to die?” His voice was nothing more a heartbroken whisper.

The burdensome feeling of guilt settled in your stomach as you watched him finally realize the reality of his situation. This was why your grandfather didn’t want to know about his death before it happened. The knowledge carried too much weight.

You sat up, afraid to give him false hope, but wanting to soothe his worries, “I’ve predicted a lot of death before but I’ve never predicted Spider-Man’s. If anyone can change the future, it’s you. You’re a real superhero, Peter. I’m just some recluse who drinks too much and desperately needs to sleep. Just because I never successfully saved anyone, doesn’t mean it can never happen.” You paused and let out a quiet sight, “I think after I watched my parents die, I sort of gave up. I tried to save them and I failed. Maybe I just took that at face value and assumed no one was able to be saved. Maybe I was afraid to keep failing so I just never tried.”

How many lives had been lost because you refused to do anything? What if your visions weren’t a curse? What if they were gift and you were the one who was wasting them? Peter had been given powers and look what he used them to do. He became a hero. You became a scared, little nobody.

Peter chewed on the inside of his lip while he got lost in his thoughts. He had gone quiet. You could tell he was building walls up around him with each passing second. The air around your bed felt thick with unsaid emotions. The finality of death and one’s own mortality hung like a cloud over your heads.

“If I die, I need you to do something for me.” His voice cut through the silence and made you jump as you were pulled away from your own spiraling thoughts. He reached into the back pocket of his dark, ripped jeans and handed you a folded piece of paper. “This is the name and address of my Aunt May. After I die, I need you to go to her house and tell her to look under my bed. There’s a shoe box under there. I wrote her a letter. It should be in there. I need you to make sure that she reads it.”

You started to shake your head, trying to tell him that he wasn’t going to die, but Peter interrupted you, “No! I need you to promise me that you’ll do this. You’re the only person who will know.” He was starting to sound desperate. “She’ll be confused as to why you’re there but, promise me, that you’ll make her look under my bed. I can’t leave her in the dark. She needs to know the truth. She needs to understand. I can’t leave her alone with no answers. She doesn’t deserve that.” His voice cracked and he quickly got off the bed, turning his back to you. You could hear him try to hide a sniffle, his shoulders tensing, and he leaned against your window to stare up at the night sky.

Tenderly, you slipped off the bed and quietly padded after him. You weren’t very good at comforting people. Taking care of others certainly wasn’t your strong suit but Peter made you push aside your own uncomfortable emotions. In five years, he was the first person you actually felt like you could trust. He was the first person you wanted to keep around.

And soon he might be dead.

You patted a stiff hand awkwardly against his back and cleared your throat, “I promise I’ll tell her.” You knew it wasn’t much but it was the best you could think of the help ease his pain.

Peter looked down at you, a few tears had escaped the confines of his eyes and were rolling down his cheek, “Thank you.” He gave you a somber smile and let out a morbid, dark laugh. “I’ve been around a lot death. I thought when my time came, I’d be more content to meet it head on. Apparently I was wrong. I don’t want to die. Not yet.”

“Then don’t,” you whispered. “We can think of a plan. Let me tell you all about my vision. You can be prepared when the time comes.”

You carefully took his hand and pulled him back to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress pressed close against his side, his hand still gripped in yours.

“It’s starts off in a nightclub lounge...”

Two days had past and Peter was still very much alive.

Every evening, he’d stop by your window to check in, let you know all was well, then be off again. It felt like you were doing nothing but sitting around and waiting for a bomb to drop. Peter had been searching for the man he had dubbed The Chameleon but was coming up empty handed. It was hard to search for someone who had the ability to change their form at will. He knew to be wary of any messages depicting you captured which lured him to a nightclub. The plan was, if he received anything of the sort, he would immediately call you. If you didn’t answer your phone then he would swing by your apartment to check you were okay. If someone was posing as you, chances are, the real you would be hanging out at home without any knowledge of the impostor. Once he saw you were safe, he would enter the nightclub having the upper hand and with a new plan of attack.

Your dreams of him had stopped and had gone back to random folks in other parts of the world. You took that as a sign maybe you had already changed the future. As long as Peter knew how his death occurred, he wouldn’t do those things, and thus a change would happen. A simple butterfly effect. A small change and the entire future gets rewritten.

“Do you think it’ll be like Final Destination?” Peter had asked one night while he devoured deli meat straight out of your fridge. “If I don’t die this time, I’ll end up fried inside of a tanning bed later on?”

You had laughed at his absurdity. You were fairly certain that wasn’t how this worked. Your mindset was changing the more you hung around him. The future wasn’t always prewritten. You alone had the power to change it. It was because of Peter you could feel a new found confidence settling in thanks to your power.

“That depends, how often do you go tanning?”

You were beginning to have hope that maybe you could have a real future with Peter. Even if it was just as friends, you’d love to keep him your life. He was extremely intelligent and resourceful. He had spent hours one morning eagerly explaining the ins and outs of his Spider-Man costume to you. He had notebooks full of science equations you couldn’t even begin to understand and mentioned that he access to some of the top scientists while he was studying to get a doctorate in biochemistry. Peter promised that once The Chameleon was dealt with, he would do everything he could to help you learn about your powers. Even claiming that he already had a series of experiments lined up to watch your brain waves while you slept. With his presence in your life, you were starting to feel less like an outcast and more like someone with a particular gift. Maybe you and Spider-Man could even team up some day. You could tell him who needed saving and he could be the hero.

Having a friend felt warm and hopeful.

The familiar buzz rang out through your apartment indicating someone was waiting down at the front door for you. You hadn’t ordered any food recently and it wasn’t like you had many friends besides Peter who sprung by for unannounced visits. There had been times people had buzzed your room by mistake. You wouldn’t be surprised if this was one of those times.

You hit the button to talk, “If you’re looking for Mrs. Gratey, she’s the button above mine.”

Peter’s voice echoed through the speaker, “Hey! It’s me. Can I come in?”

“Oh...yeah, sure.” You pressed the button to unlock to front door. You had gotten so used to him showing up at the window that you hadn’t expected him to use the door like a civilized human. He was also a few hours earlier than he normally showed up. Peter usually liked to time his arrival right as the sun was beginning to set.

You waited until you heard the knock on your apartment door before opening it with a smile, “Hi, you’re early. Did you get sick of window hopping and finally decide to try the elevator?”

Peter stepped inside and smiled back with a shrug, “There were too many people around. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by climbing up the side of a wall today.”

“Well, I’m glad you got the elevator experience then. I was just finishing up the laundry. Mind if I fold clothes while you’re here?” You wandered into your bedroom where a pile of half folded clothes lay scattered over your bed. He followed behind you, clearly opting to skip his typical fridge raid this afternoon.

“I won’t be here for long. I have a favor to ask,” he leaned against the end of your bed and bounced on the balls of his feet like he was anxious about something.

You picked up some leggings and started to fold them, giving him an expecting look. He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out his smashed phone. The screen was completely unusable as it was filled with a spider web of thick, white cracks. You let out a low whistle, “Damn. What, did you throw it off the Empire State Building?”

Peter chuckled, “Something like that. It slipped out of my pocket about 50 stories up. Do you think I could borrow yours? Just for tonight! I’ll swing it back before sunrise.”

“What does Spider-Man need a phone for?” You asked him. You placed the folded leggings down and picked up a shirt. Something in your stomach flipped and you carefully studied his face while you mindlessly worked.

He chucked again, his smile not quite reaching not eyes, “I’ve almost figured this case out. I need the gps and to make a few calls. I promise I won’t drop yours. Please. Just for a few hours.”

You chewed on your bottom lip. Anxiety stirred in your stomach as you looked over his face. Something seemed off. His eyes were different. Darker. They lacked the warmth and safety you usually felt when you looked in them. If you gave him your phone, you’d be left without a means of communication. You didn’t think Peter would ask that of you especially with what he knew was coming.

“Yeah, sure, of course.” You muttered. You shuffled over to your bedside table, keeping him in your sights, and grabbed it from the charger. Alarm bells were ringing in your ears, yelling at you to not hand over your phone. Peter never used the front door...

He smiled. It was a little too wide, a little too toothy. You held your phone tighter in your hand and cleared your throat.

“Hey, remember the night we met?” You asked him, trying to keep your voice light. “I was coming out of the bookstore and you bumped into me? You said you were interested in that book I had bought. I finished it if you’d like to give it a go.” You subtly ran your thumb across the lock screen to your phone and tried to search for Peter’s name without shifting your eyes downwards too draw attention to the act.

Peter raised his eyebrows and nodded, “Oh? Yeah, that’s right. That’d be awesome. After this is over, I’d love to read it. I’m really busy tonight though. Can I just have your phone and I’ll be out of your hair?”

This was not Peter Parker.

Despite trying to keep your face neutral, both you and the impostor Peter realized the truth at the same time. He dove for your phone just as you leap onto the bed to escape his reach.

He grabbed at your ankle, pulling you back towards him, “You bitch!” His voice shifted between Peter’s cool tones and that deepness of the shadow man.

“Peter and I met at a bar, you fucker!” You rolled onto your back, your freshly folded clothes flying to the ground, and aimed a kick directly at your friends face. The moment your foot made contact, Peter’s face disappeared into a puff of black smoke and congealed as a white, skull-like, nearly featureless face. You recoiled back in disgust. “Get away from me, you Voldemort looking freak!” You had the sudden realization that if this man actually captured you, Peter was not going to believe it was the real you. He was going to think you were the fake.

You had to warn him.

You aimed another kick at Chameleon and rolled off the other side of the bed, sinking to the ground and hitting Peter’s contact. As you heard your intruder stomp around the edge of the bed, you quickly flattened yourself and shuffled underneath it, holding the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” Peter answered.

“Peter!” You screamed. “My vision! I think it’s changing! He’s in my apartment. He disguised himself like you. He’s trying to-” You’re cut shot as an arm reached under the bed and pulled you out. “It’s not going to be a fake! It’s me! It’s really me, Peter!”

Chameleon kicked the phone out of your hand and crunched it under his foot. He leaned down to sneer at you with a lipless grin, “Nighty night, sweetheart.” He pulled a needle from his pocket and injected it into your squirming body.

Almost immediately, you felt the blackness take you.

The thick smell of cigars and alcohol filled your nose.

You forced your heavy eyes to open. You had been here before. You recognized the smell but it wasn’t the familiar, open room you had been in previously. It was dark and small. Probably a closet.

Hefty ropes tangled around your body. The more you tried to struggle against them, the tighter they felt. You were trapped.

Except that you weren’t really here.

No. No, this wasn’t happening. Not yet.

This was a vision. You could feel it. If it was vision, you weren’t really trapped. The ropes weren’t real. This is a dream. You’re dreaming. You were in control. You tried to focus your breathing.

Slowly, you lifted your arm away from your side. Then the other. You shook out your legs. The ropes no longer existed to restrain you. You pushed yourself to your feet and felt around the dark room for the door. The second your hand collided with the handle, you pushed open the door and stumbled into the room with the neon purple lights.

It was quiet except for the two men standing in front of the bar. One of them was the round, red faced man you saw die in a vision previously and, the other, was Chameleon. His bald, skull-like head contrasted against his nicely tailored blue suit. He was tapping his pale white fingers against the bar while his sidekick spoke.

“But Spider-Man is so strong. How are you going to overpower him? I’ve seen him dodge bullets easily. I think you might be underestimating his abilities, sir. He’s got-”

“Shut up, Harold.” Chameleon commanded. “I told you. I have a plan.”

The last time you witnessed this, he had put a bullet through Harold’s skull right then. Peter’s death wasn’t the only thing that was changing.

Chameleon pointed towards the closet you had come out of, “We have the girl. Spider-Man is going to come save his damsel in distress and we’ll kill him.”

The small man, who was apparently named Harold, took a nervous breath, “Yes but, sir? I still don’t see how this will help. Who’s to say he won’t save her and kill us in the process?”

Chameleon took a deep, annoyed breath. Harold had no idea how close to death he was skirting right now. “I told you. The girl is knocked out and hidden away. She already called him. He knows about me and what I can do. He’s not going to believe that it was really her at first. I bet, he’ll swing his way over to her apartment to double check that she’s alright. When he gets there, he’s going to see the struggle that went down. I made sure to leave him a nice pool of her blood for good measure. He’ll realize it was actually her in trouble and run his sorry, little ass over here to come rescue her.”

He tapped his knuckles against the bar and gave a wicked smile. “When he gets here, I’ll transform myself into her. He’ll crawl in, expecting me to be the real her, come to my rescue instead...and bam! I stab him with the paralyzing agent. Once he’s lost control of his extremities. He’ll be easy to overtake. Harry Osborn’s theory is that his famous Spidey Senses are dulled when he’s around people he trusts. He won’t expect the knife coming from her.”

Harold wrung his hands together and glanced towards the closet your body was supposed to be hidden behind, “What if she gets out?”

“You tied her down and gagged her, didn’t you? She shouldn’t make any noise. When we’re done with Spider-Man, we can kill her too. He should be here any minute now. Get upstairs before you fuck up my plans and keep a low profile.” Chameleon watched Harold with a look of utter disdain as he scampered out of the room and up the stairs.

He walked over to the closet and pulled it open. Inside, your unconscious body lay slumped against the wall. A large cut ran over your eyebrow and drying blood caked the right half of your face. He tilted your chin to study your appearance. When he turned back around, he now resembled an exact replica of you, down to the bleeding wound on your forehead. He closed the closet door, patted at the knife hidden in his back pocket, walked over to the front of the bar and draped himself over the floor. He stayed perfectly motionless as if he had been hastily dumped there.

Just a few moments later, Spider-Man came crawling across the ceiling towards, what he presumed to be, your unconscious body.

No, no, no, no. In trying to help Peter, you had effectively put him straight back into danger. The future might have changed slightly but the result was still going to be the same.

“That’s not me!” You screamed at him as he crawled closer to Chameleon. “I’m in the closet! That’s not the real me!”

Peter paused. His masked head turned towards your cries just as he had in visions previously. It was like he could still sense you there. Yet, just like before, he shook his head and ignored whatever he thought he heard.

He called out your name once he had crawled directly over the fake you. Chameleon moaned and rolled onto his back, “...Peter?” He sounded weak and shockingly like you. It was uncanny to see someone else wearing you skin and stealing your voice. “Peter...he showed up at my window. He was disguised at you. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” He forced himself to sit up, placing a hand limply over the cut on his forehead as if it was causing him great pain. Tears even brimmed behind his, well your, eyes. “He’s going to come back soon. Please. Help me.”

You had to give it to him. He was good at what he did. If you hadn’t witnessed everything prior, you might even be convinced that it was actually you. Peter didn’t leave his spot on the ceiling.

“Prove it,” he growled.

You silently cursed yourself that you and Peter hadn’t thought of a code word before all this to help recognize each other. It would have saved you both a lot of trouble.

Chameleon frowned, “Don’t you recognize me, Peter?”

He shook his masked head, “Prove it!”

“Okay, okay!” His voice had gone shrill exactly like yours did when you were getting too stressed. “We met a bar, remember? You always use my window to get inside. You never use the elevator even though I told you that you should. You like to come over later in the evening after the sun has set.”

You took an inhale of breath. He had managed to pick all that up in the few seconds you were alone together. He was smart. Observant.

But Peter was smarter, “Shut up for a second.”

His held tilted like he was picking up something only he could hear. He turned to stare directly at the closet your body was inside of. Your heart skipped a beat.

Yes, yes go to the closet. That’s where I am.

You watched Chameleon’s eye twitch in rage and he staggered to his feet, still keeping up the pained, hopeless tone in your voice, “Peter? We should get going. Quickly. He’s coming back soon.”

Peter ignored him, crawling quickly over to the closet. He dropped to his feet and pulled open the door. You heard his breath catch in his throat when he saw your bloody face and ropes tied around your unconscious body. He ripped his mask off to get a better look at you, bent forward, and easily loosened he ropes from around you. He called out your name as he gently tried to shake you awake.

He wasn’t paying attention.

He was distracted.

Chameleon had shifted back into his normal form. He was quietly stalking over to Peter, the knife raised in his hand, the purple glow of the lights reflecting off the shiny blade.

“No!” You screamed.

He turned around at the last second but it was too late. The knife buried into the front of his shoulder.

Chameleon laughed.

You watched in horror as the paralyzing agent quickly flowed through his blood stream. His body twitched and jerked, desperately trying to move and fight through the drugs, but ultimately he slumped to the floor in front of your unconscious body tucked away inside the closet.

“Bet you weren’t expecting that, Spidey,” he boasted.

Chameleon descended over the hero. His large, white hand grabbing at his chest and tossing his across the room with an unfound feat of strength.

“I can be anyone!” He yelled. “I can be the strongest man alive. I can pick you up with ease and toss you around like a rag doll.” The muscles in his arm grew, ripping through his suit, and he grabbed Peter by the neck. He lifted him into the air so his toes were scarcely scraping against the ground. Peter’s warm, velvet eyes bulged out of his head as he gasped for air. His arms twitched at his sides in a rash attempt to reach for his tormentor but remained useless to him.

The little spasms of his limbs didn’t phase Chameleon as he continued to taunt your friend, “I can be anyone.” He threw Peter across the room, his body crashing into the back wall of alcohol behind the bar. The glass shattered, cutting his skin, and he let out a pained yell as the alcohol seeped into the fresh wounds. “Anyone! Should I be your dead mother?”

Chameleon’s form shifted into a brown haired, kind looking woman. She sauntered over to Peter as he stared up at her in horror. “What about your sweet, old aunt?” He changed again into a frail, tired, but charming woman. “Or how about your dead Uncle Ben?” He shifted once more into a gentle, white haired man.

Peter let out an angry scream. He struggled against the paralysis. You could see his arms start to move. His legs gave out a little kick. His anger was fueling him to overpower the drugs in his system.

Chameleon hardly noticed. He was too busy enjoying the torment. The foot of Peter’s uncle reared back and kicked him hard in the face. Over and over. Blood spurted from Peter’s mouth as he tried to roll away. The second he moved, Chameleon resorted to kicking him in the chest until he was curled up into the fetal position surrounded by a growing pool of his own blood.

“How about the big finale?” His form shifted once more into a young, beautiful, blonde hair woman. “Mr. Osborne told me this would be the real kicker. To be killed by the one you let die. What was her name again? Future scientist, Ms. Gwen Stacey?”

A pained whimper fell from his lips. You watched as Peter’s eye filled with tears at the woman standing above him. He slumped onto his back, the tears rolling freely down his temple and soaking into his sweaty hair.

His body was beaten and broken. All his fight had left him at the sight of this woman...Gwen. His bottom lip quivered.

He was giving up.

His slashed open face leaked a waterfall of thick, ruby blood down over his skin. His mouth agape. Gasping. Desperately inhaling for any air to soothe his shriveled lungs. Tears reflect the purple neon lights casting an eerie glow over his paling skin. His body slumped to a rest. There was no more fight left him. His head lolled to the side. His eyes met with yours. Pleading. He was fading fast and somehow he was able to see you standing there watching him about to die just as you had done many times before.

“Help me,” he mouthed as the blonde woman stepped over him.

A gun pressed against Peter’s forehead. His spirit broken. He didn’t move to stop it.

This was it.

This was his end.

“No!” The scream ripped out of you.

Your eyes flung open.

The pile of ropes lay pooled around your waist. The closet door was open. You could hear the fight going on outside.

You struggled to your side, shimmying your way out of the ropes, and fell out the open door into the main lounge. You rolled onto your back and pushed yourself up to your shaky feet.

Your eyesight was spinning as you tried to fight the drugs Chameleon had injected you with to knock you out. You stumbled forward.

The blonde woman, Gwen, was standing over Peter. She had a gun in her hand. You had just seen this exact scene mere seconds ago. This was all so familiar like terrible deja vu. You shook your head to clear your thoughts. It was hard to distinguish between reality and your dreams. For almost two weeks, you had seen this play out. Two weeks you had watched different variations of Peter’s death.

Now was the time. This was real.

It was happening.

You had to change Peter’s future.

As the barrel of the gun rested against his head, you charged forward. You threw the entire weight of your body against Chameleon. He was disguised as the young, teen girl. She was skinny and small. Easy to overtake. The two of you toppled to the ground just as the gun went off. The bullet ricocheting off the hardwood floor and shattering into a light bulb.

Chameleon let out an angry yell, his body changing back into his featureless white skull, “You little shit!” He wrapped his arms around your waist and threw you hard onto your back. The back of your head bounced against the floor and blurry stars burst into your vision. “I’m going to fucking kill you for that!”

He fell on top of you, big, cold hands wrapping around your neck, his thumbs pressing hard into your throat. You tried to grab at his suit, punch him, hit him, anything in an attempt to get your off but he was too strong.

Suddenly, he froze. His hands loosened around your neck and you gasped for air.

“Get off of her,” a deadly voice filled the room.

Chameleon gave a low laugh of defeat as the barrel of his own gun was pressed against the back of his head, “I see the Spider-Man is stronger than he looks.”

“Back up slowly,” Peter commanded.

Chameleon did as he was told, raising his hands in surrender, and backing away from you. You stayed still on the ground, not sure if you could even move if wanted to while you tried to catch your breath, and watched Peter keep the gun pointed at his foe. “Stand against the wall. I called the cops before I came here. They should be arriving soon to take you away.”

Chameleon pressed his back to the wall and Peter proceeded to shower him with flurry of webs until he was completely satisfied there was no way for him to escape. Once he was sure the man was secure, Peter dropped the gun. He stumbled backwards into the edge of bar and crumpled to the ground. A quiet groan fell from his bloody, split lips.

You struggled to roll over and crawled to him. His eyes were closed but a fraction of a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. You brushed back his hair and rested your hands on either side of his face to turn his attention to you.

“Peter?” You whispered.

He smiled, his eyes half open, “You did it. You saved me.”

The linger effects of paralysis were still coursing through his blood stream. Now that his adrenaline was wearing off, it was becoming harder for him to move again. His overpowering will to fight it was no longer needed now that you were both safe. He slumped his body against your chest and you cradled his head protectively to your shoulder.

“You should go.” He muttered. “The police will be here soon. They’ll want to bring you in. Question you. I don’t want that. You should leave before they get here. I’ll keep an eye on this asshole.”

“What about you?” You asked.

He lifted his heavy head and rested his forehead to yours, “I’m Spider-Man. They see me all the time. Don’t worry about me. If you could put my mask on before you leave, thought, that would be a big help.”

You closed your eyes at his closeness and nodded, “I think we make me pretty good team.” It felt so right having him in your arms like he was destined to be there all along.

He gave a breathy, tired laugh, “The best team. If I could move my arms, I think I’d pull you in for a kiss right about now.”

Your stomach exploded with butterflies. You cupped his bloody cheeks in your hands and placed a soft kiss to his lips, afraid to cause him any more pain than he was already in.

“Mm,” he hummed against your mouth. “That was nice. Now go get my mask mask and get out of here. I’ll come find you once I’m able to move my limbs again and see that this jerk is placed behind bars.”

You did as he said, grabbing his mask and carefully placing it over his broken face. He nodded a thanks and you felt his watchful, protective eyes stay on you until you had disappeared up the stairs.

Peter was safe.

You had saved him.

You had changed his future.

Spider-Man was no longer the only hero New York City had to offer.

Reread from the start: [Part One] [Part Two]

Tag List: @ongreenergrasses @captaindanvxrs @liz-allyn @coolchick333 @mrshipsmcgee @holyheadharpies99 @aphrodites-perfume @agnesamarantheastwood @todaywasafairytale07 @edgycatx @kdatthecastle @aestheticpisces @malar-region @saltedcoffeescotch @magnitude101999

[Chapter Index]

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aslvt4ag · 6 months ago

Text

Title: A healing light

Peter Parker x reader (fem)

Word count: Approximately 320 words.

Warning:

This chapter contains themes of guilt, grief, and the burden of responsibility.

Summary:

Peter grapples with guilt as he swings through the city, haunted by thoughts of y/n and Gwen. Determined to be a better hero, he vows to honor their memories by fighting for justice.

Chapter 12: A Hero's Burden

#andrew garfield #peter parker #the amazing spider man #tasm peter parker #emma stone #gwen stacy #gweter #fanfic #petergwen fan fiction #andrew!peter x reader

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undersilverlake · 3 years ago

Text

Spider-Man: The Musical | Broadway Debut

Pairing: Peter Parker x MJ!Reader (F)

Words: 2.3k

Summary: It’s opening night of Spider-Man: The Musical and after getting cast as the masked heroes girlfriend, MJ is disappointed to discover that her actual boyfriend, Peter Parker, won’t be able to make it to witness her Broadway debut.

This is not a direct continuation of part one, so it can be read as a stand alone piece.

As MJ was sat in front of her mirror applying her stage makeup, there were three short knocks at her dressing room door.

“Just a second!” She called, as she rushed to finish applying her blush.

Once she finally opened the door, she was greeted by a giant bouquet of flowers so large they completely obscured the person who was holding them.

“Peter–”

“Where would you like them, ma’am? It’s just… they’re starting to feel rather heavy.” the flowers spoke to her in a voice she didn’t recognise and her shoulders deflated upon realising that it wasn’t Peter who was hidden behind them like she had originally thought.

“Oh, right– sorry, come in.” MJ jumped aside and pulled the door wide open in order to provide enough space for the flowers to be carried through, “you can put them down on that table just over there.” she awkwardly gestured to the small coffee table, which the man began to side step towards so he was able to see where he was going, while MJ began rummaging through her purse to look for some cash in order to tip the delivery man.

“Thank you so much.” She told him as she handed him some money, once he had put down the flowers.

He gratefully accepted the tip with a smile, before he showed himself out of the dressing room, leaving MJ alone with the enormous flower arrangement.

She began digging through the flowers in order to hunt for a note from the sender, she was grateful for the fact that the roses had been dethroned so she didn’t receive any nasty pricks as she pulled out the small greeting card.

‘I’m so unbelievably proud of you, my love. I wish I could be there tonight to watch your broadway debut. Break a leg (not literally though, please.)

Good luck and lots of love,

Peter.’

She couldn’t help her giggle as she read over the note, until it faded into a disappointed sigh. It was about to be the most important night of her career and her boyfriend wasn’t going to be there to support her, she understood that he was committed to protecting the city every night as Spider-Man but she had hoped that he would take the night off just this once.

She couldn’t fight the insecurity that began to creep up on her like a ominous shadow. All of the other actors partners were going to be in the audience tonight and she knew they would all find it strange once they asked where her boyfriend was and she told them he was “working” and their minds inevitably wondered before offering her a look of pity and she couldn’t blame them, hers would have too if she hadn’t been aware of the truth.

MJ appreciated the fact that most people wouldn’t want to sit through an admittedly corny and inaccurate musical revolved around them, that’s why she had told Peter she would quit as soon as he revealed the fact that he was actually Spider-Man to her, but he had insisted that she could not give up her dream of performing on Broadway for him and convinced her to stay committed to the production.

She still couldn’t help but chuckle to herself every time she thought about the fact that life was imitating art as she was Spider-Man’s girlfriend both on and off stage. She was caught doing just that as her co-star, Tom, invited himself into her dressing room.

“Y’know there’s this thing called knocking? You should try it sometime.” she reprimanded him, as she slid the card back into the bouquet and returned to the seat in front of her mirror.

Tom playfully rolled his eyes, knowing she was only teasing. He and MJ had become very close friends over the time they had spent together during the weeks of rehearsals and it helped considering the fact he was her on stage boyfriend.

“I just saw the obnoxiously large bouquet of flowers getting delivered to your door and I had to come see who they were from.” Tom lightly teased with an English accent as he nosily inspected the bouquet.

“Peter, obviously, who else?” MJ replied with faux irritation as she resumed her makeup routine.

“Will he be attending tonight?” Tom made casual conversation as he invited himself to sit down on the black leather two seater located directly behind the mirror, so he and MJ could look at each other through it.

MJ hesitantly made eye contact with Tom’s reflection before lowering her gaze back down to her makeup palette. “He can’t. He’s working,” she regretfully lied.

“Oh… so those are guilt flowers.” Tom remarked and MJ made the effort to turn around in her chair and glare at him.

“No. They’re good luck flowers.” She sharply argued and in return Tom offered her a look that told her she was in denial. If only she could tell him the real reason Peter wasn’t attending tonight.

“Will Daya be coming?” MJ asked in order to shift the focus onto her co-star. Daya was Tom’s girlfriend, also an actress, the pair had met while working together on a TV show and in MJ’s opinion they made a rather adorable couple.

“Of course.” Tom nodded, as if the mere idea that she wouldn’t be was absurd, which only made MJ’s heart sink even further at the fact she couldn’t say the same for her partner.

•••

Peter felt bad for lying to MJ, but he wanted to surprise her.

The writer and director of ‘Spider-Man: The Musical’ had made a very public invitation to Spider-Man, making it known that a VIP box would be especially reserved for the masked hero, should he decide to ‘swing by,’ and those are the actual words that he used.

That seat would have remained empty had his girlfriend not been a member of the cast and he couldn’t miss her broadway debut for the world, even if it was in a musical about himself.

So technically Peter didn’t lie, he wouldn’t be there tonight, Spider-Man would be, but of course MJ didn’t know that.

The play was scheduled to begin at 6:30pm and Peter ensured that he was fashionably late so that the house lights would be down by the time he sneaked into the VIP box and no one, including MJ, would notice him until the house lights came up again during the interval.

As soon as they did, Peter was on his feet, clapping his hands above his head and cheering. The unmistakable red and blue of Peter’s suit caught MJ’s eye almost immediately and she froze mid-bow as she looked directly into his masked eyes.

For a moment her expression was unreadable and Peter was beginning to worry that she was upset that he had lied to her but that concern dissipated as soon as a broad smile stretched at her lips and she blew him a quick kiss, not missing a beat Peter made a show of pretending to catch it with his web shooter before slipping it into an imaginary pocket, which caused the crowd to erupt into an even louder applause.

Peter couldn’t allow the focus to be shifted towards him, so he pointed towards the stage and clapped his hands together once more, before he swiftly exited the VIP box and found one of the theatre staff to lead him back stage to meet the actors, of course the only actor he was interested in meeting was his girlfriend, but they didn’t need to know that.

•••

“I thought you said you couldn’t make it.” MJ smiled up at her boyfriend as she hung her arms loosely around the back of his neck and he comfortably rested his hands on the dip of her waist.

Peter was still covered head to toe in his Spider-Man costume, despite the fact they were both now hidden away in MJ’s dressing room.

“I never said Spider-Man couldn’t make it, though.” Peter cleverly replied, to which MJ responded with a slight tilt of her head which said ‘touché.’

“Is Spider-Man enjoying himself?” MJ asked.

“He certainly is, and he is incredibly proud of his girlfriend.” Peter whispered as he began to lower his face closer to hers.

“MJ, curtains back up in fi– oh fuck, I’m so sorry.” Tom once again barged into your dressing room and you immediately pushed yourself away from your boyfriend.

“Jesus Christ, Tom! What have I told you about knocking?!” You yelled back at him, while Peter awkwardly looked back and forth between you and your co-star.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, looking genuinely remorseful before his eyes lingered on Spider-Man and the two of them stared at each other for a moment before Tom broke the silence with an awkward ‘hi’ to which Peter politely responded with a small wave and you could’ve sworn that Tom was about to burst on the spot with excitement over the tiny interaction.

“Tom, MJ, what are you doing, the curtain is going back up in literally two– oh my god, Spider-Man, thank you so much for coming to my show.” The director invited himself into your dressing room as soon as he laid eyes on your boyfriend and you quietly made yourself scarce, while Tom and the director began to shower Peter with admiration.

“I just had an idea!” The director placed his hand on Spider-Man’s chest, to halt him when he attempted to escape and return to his seat for the second part. “You should do the next scene with MJ! You wouldn’t mind, right, Tom?”

“Fine by me, means I don’t have to get into the harness.” Tom easily agreed.

“The harness?” Peter tilted his head.

“Well, you see, in the next scene Tom is lowered down from the top of the stage, hanging upside down, until he comes face to face with MJ and she lifts his mask to give him a kiss.” The director explained.

“Lifts his mask?” Peter was beginning to feel like a parrot, surely they weren’t expecting him to unmask himself on Broadway.

“Only to above your mouth,” Tom quickly clarified, settling Peter’s worries about having his identity revealed, “no one will see your whole face.”

“And I’m really sorry but I’m going to have to rush you for an answer because we’re already running behind schedule.” The director told him as he made an effort to check his watch for the time.

•••

MJ stood alone on stage as the curtains lifted and the first thing she noticed was that the seat that Peter had previously been sat in was now empty, she tried to ignore the way her heart sank with disappointment as she told herself it was inevitable that he wouldn’t stay for the whole show as he had to protect the city and that was important.

Pushing her feelings aside, MJ remained committed to her performance. Just before the interval, Spider-Man had rescued her from a street gang, the scene had ended with him chasing the gang off stage and now MJ had to act frightened and alone as she stood in an abandoned alley, unsure of whether or not Spider-Man had safely made it away from the gang.

She knew it was her cue to look up once the crowd erupted into cheer and applause as Spider-Man made a re-appearance from the top of the stage. MJ’s brows furrowed as soon as she realised he wasn’t wearing a harness and there were no strings attaching him to the ceiling and it seemed the audience realised this too as they became even louder once he came face to face with MJ, hanging upside down from his web.

“Peter?” MJ whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

“I guess we’re both making our Broadway debut today.” He replied just as quietly and she could just imagine his proud smirk behind his mask as she tried to stay in character.

“May I give my hero a kiss?” MJ delivered her line once the cheers and applause had died down and when Peter gave her a silent nod she knew that was her permission to lift his mask above his lips.

MJ cradled Peter’s face in both of her hands, as she connected her lips with his in a kiss that started out slow and tender but quickly deepened into something far more passionate as the theatre full of people collapsed out of their minds like a house of cards until it was just the pair of them surrounded by a black abyss and a single spotlight.

MJ had to force herself to pull her lips off of Peter’s before they let themselves get carried away and stepped out of his reach when his lips continued to chase after hers. She sent him a look that seemed to remind him where they were and Peter realised that it was time for him to make his exit.

Using his web, Peter yanked himself back up to the top of the stage and began to rush back to his seat to enjoy the rest of the show.

•••

As soon as the curtain lowered, Tom put his arm around MJ’s shoulders as they both made their way backstage, incredibly high off of the adrenaline of their first official performance of the musical.

“Spider-Man definitely has the hots for you.” Tom teased her after pulling off his own Spider-Man mask.

“No, he does not!” She protested a bit too aggressively, if Tom thought anything of it he didn’t make it obvious.

“I think you should dump that Peter bloke and shoot your shot with Spider-Man. At least he showed up.” Tom suggested and she couldn’t help but laugh at his obliviousness.

“Maybe I should.” She agreed through her laughter as she made her way towards her dressing room where she was sure her Spider-Man was already waiting for her.

A/N: yes that was Tom Holland as the Broadway Spider-Man because I’m lazy and I thought it was funny and yes Daya is just Zendaya because I’m also unoriginal. This was so fun to write, if you read the authors note of the previous part you’ll know that I wrote a lot more than what I posted but this is nothing like the second part I had originally written and I’m so glad because I like this so much better.

Thank you so much to everyone who read this, I would love to hear your thoughts on it if you’re happy to share them!

#andrew garfield #peter parker #spiderman #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #andrew garfield x reader #tom holland #spider man no way home #the amazing spider man #spider man imagine #spider man fanfiction #tasm!peter x reader

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