#andrew garfield one-shots

[buckseb]

always hold you

pairings — tasm!peter parker x bff/gf!fem!reader

summary — in which, she needs her boyfriend's support more than anything else, after another particularly bad fight with her father.

word count — 2.6k.

warnings — a little bit of angst, use of pet-names [dove, sweetheart, darling, love, bug], reader calls peter pete, lots of fluff and this is basically just a hurt/comfort fic, protective/soft!peter, this is also sort of similar to my other peter fic (take as a part two that one), peter comforting reader, mentions of the reader's low self-esteem issues and it being explained a bit more, both physical and emotional abuse (manipulation and gaslighting, but not from peter), hugs and cuddles, forehead kisses, peter just taking care of the reader and showing her the love that her family refuses to do, gwen is in here for a second and being the comforting platonic best friend that she is to reader, peter comes off as a little harsh and scares reader a little bit but he makes up for it in the end.

notes — hi! so, this is really more of a vent fic. i know i've written in the past about dealing w/ a toxic family member and how i really enjoyed writing fics similar to my experiences with my favorite comfort characters to comfort the reader because that would usually help me deal with everything. but recently, the abuse that me, my mom, and my brother have been experiencing has become a lot more complicated and traumatizing for me to deal with. and things have only gotten worse. so, i figured i'd do another comforting fic like the other peter fic i wrote about going through that said abuse. i really just feel that it's important to not hide my true feelings and act like everything's fine behind a screen and i just want to be able to talk about this topic a lot more (especially in my writing), because it's so serious and not nearly talked about enough. but, nonetheless, if there's anyone out there that sees this and is a victim of abuse (whether it's emotional/mental or physical abuse, or both) please don't feel obligated to read this. i really don't want to trigger or upset anyone who's dealing with this situation in a very heavy and overwhelming way. just remember though, no matter what anyone says or does to you, you ARE strong and deserve the entire world. i love you all <3. anyways, i hope this makes up for the lack of posting anything (i've been really struggling with a lot, but i'm trying!). gif and divider creds to owner!

p.s., feedback is very much encouraged and appreciated <3.

other fic

main masterlist

IT'S OBVIOUS NOW THAT SHE was stupid to think that he could change. it was even more stupid of her to go back to that apartment.

but, she's always been one to see the best in people — in her case, it's come to bite her in the ass.

even now, as she awaits her boyfriend to return home from his nightly patrol around the city, [y/n] knows that she should've known better.

she trembles as she sits on their shared bed, one of her legs bouncing anxiously — the thought of how peter will react to her foolish decision and the outcome from it is stressing her out, beyond words.

after how he responded the first time he found out about the truth about her father's cruelty and what she'd had to go through, she's worried of how he will react this time — it took almost everything in him to not confront her father, when he first found out.

she abruptly jumps when she hears the front door of the apartment shut softly.

a shaky breath leaves her lips, wondering if it's too late to try to hide the marks on her face and body.

but, when she hears him call out her name from the living room, she knows that it's too late — there's nothing she can do now to hide this.

and even if she wanted to for a split second, she promised peter she'd never lie to him again — after the last time, they promised each other that they'd never hide anything from the other again.

so, with another shaky breath, [y/n] sighs and hesitantly pulls the bedroom door open.

she keeps her head down, her hair falling around her face and covering the marks as she walks out and into the living room.

"sweetheart..." peter's voice trails off, eyes wide with shock and worry.

her breath catches in her throat as soon as she finally looks up at her boyfriend and sees the intense, protective look in his eyes.

"i—i'm sorry, peter." she whispers, voice too raspy to get any louder.

a flash of anger fills his eyes. "please... tell me that you didn't go back to him!" he exclaims in a quieter tone of voice as he pinches the corner of his eyes.

[y/n] flinches at the amount of frustration in his voice.

"peter, i—i'm sorry... " her voice trembles, guilt and regret quickly filling her — she just feels so stupid.

peter sighs, regretting taking his anger out on her.

his eyes immediately soften. "sweetheart, i'm sorry." he murmurs, before starting to walk over to her.

but, before he can reach her, she flinches and winces.

he stops short, freezing in place. more guilt fills him as he realizes that in this moment, she's scared of him.

"look... i—i know that i shouldn't have gone back," she whispers, tears clouding her eyes as she remembers the anger and hatred in her father's eyes.

peter's silent for a moment, waiting and giving her time to explain more — if she's able to.

"i'm... i'm so stupid, peter." she whispers, too ashamed to talk any louder.

peter's eyes widen in shock, not expecting that statement to come out of her mouth. "w—what? darling, that's not true."

this time, a tear falls down her cheek. "yes, i am. peter, who's stupid enough to choose to believe that their abusive, monster-of-a-father can change? me — it's me!"

the rambling and the self-loathing words coming out of his girlfriend's mouth becomes incredibly clear to peter as he walks over to her.

this time now, he doesn't hesitate to pull her into his chest as her voice becomes more trembling and wavering, "this is on me — it's my fault."

"it's okay now, love. don't blame yourself." he murmurs as she stops holding herself back and breaks into breathless sobs into his chest.

after a while, her crying slows and quiets down with her tears now dried on her cheeks.

she faces him and takes in a deep, calming breath as he wipes away the remaining tears away and looks over her bruises more intensely.

"i wanna kill him for doing this to you — again." the venom in his tone sends shivers through her spine — knowing what he would do to protect her comforts her.

but, on the other hand, she also knows that hurting her father isn't going to do anything for them or fix anything.

"no, peter. i know you don't mean that." she murmurs seriously.

an angry frown places itself over his lips. "no, i do."

she sighs. "okay, maybe you do. but, it won't fix anything and we both know that," she says, moving one of her fingers up to smooth out the crease in between his very furrowed eyebrows.

"it's okay now — i'm okay." she whispers seriously, grabbing his hand and rubbing soothing circles over his thumb.

you'd think from how she's comforting him that peter was the one that got hurt, not her — that's just how she is; she always finds herself taking care of everyone else, when she really should be taking care of herself.

maybe that's why they're such a good pair — while they're taking care of everyone else and their loved ones, they can trust the other to take care of the other.

"that's the thing, love. it's not okay! you shouldn't have to go out of your way to avoid him, just to protect yourself." he exclaims, ripping his hand out of hers and this time pacing around the living room with his hand now gripping his hair in frustration.

she sighs, frowning — this is exactly why she didn't want to tell him because she hates worrying him like this.

"it may not be fair, but if it's what i have to do to protect myself, then that's what i'll do — i should've kept doing that, instead of being an idiot to believe he'd change." she admits, shrugging, trying to play this all off, as if it's not that big of a deal.

"don't say that — don't do that!" he abruptly yells, turning around to face her defensively.

she flinches — once again — at the volume of his voice. "don't do what?" she asks meekly, her voice too soft.

he sighs in regret. "i'm sorry. i'm not trying to scare you." his eyes are downcast at the floor, before he looks up again, the guilt clear in his irises this time.

"it's okay, peter." she gulps, berating herself for some part of her being afraid of him — after all, she has no reason to fear him because he'd never intentionally hurt her.

"it's not. i shouldn't have gotten so angry — i'm not mad at you, i promise," he says in a much more quiet voice, sighing as he sees that look in her eyes — the one that she always has when she feels like a burden and feels like she should be apologizing.

"sweetheart, don't even think about apologizing. none of this is your fault."

[y/n] sighs in exasperation. "maybe it is. i'm the one that is always making a fool out of myself by believing in the best of everyone."

she sighs when a flash of irritation shows in his eyes. "what?" he whispers, his eyebrows furrowing together.

she takes in another breath when he walks over to her and hesitantly places his hands over her cheeks.

[y/n] sighs again.

"this isn't your fault, love. know that," he murmurs, his eyes searching hers for some kind of understanding. "please, tell me that you know that."

she sighs again, noticing the tears filling his eyes — it becomes incredibly clear to her how much the man in front of her cares about her.

"peter... " her own eyes fill with tears, even spilling to her cheeks.

without another thought, he gently wipes away her tears. "promise me that you understand me."

she sighs again. "y—yes, i understand," she murmurs, hating the hope that fills his eyes. "but, i just don't believe it."

he opens his mouth to object, but she interrupts him before he has the chance to say something, "i want to. but, i can't just shut off the way i feel — i was raised the way i was and with the trauma i have gotten along the way, i can't just forget it."

more tears fills his eyes, before he moves incredibly closer to her and brings her close to kiss her forehead. "knowing you want to believe it is good enough for me."

when he pulls away from her he smiles warmly at her. "let's go cuddle now, yeah?"

the softness in his voice makes her smile. "sounds like a plan, pete." she murmurs with a nod and leads him to their shared room.

once they're inside of their bedroom, [y/n] walks over to their shared bathroom, to change into her set of pajamas she set aside earlier in the day, after she had just gotten back from her father's home — she used to call it her home, but that all changed once her once-very-close relationship with her father changed.

after she changes and brushes her hair and teeth, she takes in a deep breath and tries to mentally prepare herself for the rest of the night.

but, when she shuts off the light and opens the door, she comes to realize that the bedroom is empty.

she walks out of the bathroom and looks around, her eyebrows quickly knitting together in confusion.

and just as she's about to call out her boyfriend's name, she hears hushed voices outside of the room.

with much more confusion filling her body, she slowly walks out of their room and into the living room, only to see peter standing at the door, talking at the door in a hushed voice.

"pete? is everything okay?" she asks as she walks up from behind him.

he jumps a little in surprise, before motioning towards the door.

the blond hair of their current guest surprises her.

"oh, gwen. hi." she greets her best friend and then her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning into him with her chin resting on his shoulder.

"what are you doing here?"

gwen shrugs. "i just wanted to check up on you — your dad called me, yelling at me because he thought that you'd left to go hide at my apartment."

the words that come out of one of her best friends' mouth shakes [y/n] to her very core — anytime she hears anything about her father, she gets easily nervous and scared.

in a matter of seconds, [y/n] slowly pulls away from her boyfriend's body.

she knows that she should try to pretend everything's fine and as if her friend's words don't affect her, but she can't help it.

if she had a few more seconds, she'd probably fall into a state of mind where she'd completely shut down.

but, when a light touch to her shoulder by peter shakes her out of her daze, she sighs and nervously finds her boyfriend's eyes on her.

"what's going on, guys? did something happen?" gwen asks worriedly after seeing the tense look on [y/n]'s face.

peter doesn't speak. he doesn't even look away from his girlfriend — his eyes simply say that the decision is all hers.

despite the fact that him and gwen are pretty close friends, he's always respected [y/n]'s choices.

with a sigh, [y/n] turns to gwen. "i kind of had a run in with my dad earlier."

as she hears that statement, gwen begins to notice the bruises on her best friend's face.

she frowns. "are you okay?" she asks, but after a moment, she groans and rolls her eyes at herself.

"i'm sorry. that was insensitive — of course you're not okay."

[y/n] laughs, despite the seriousness of the situation. "it's okay."

gwen gives her a pointed look, not believing for one moment that what she asked was okay.

"really, gwen," she says, finding some courage inside of her. "i'm probably not okay. but... " she trails off, suddenly feeling like everything is going to be okay with the ones that truly love her by her side.

"for the first time, i think i'm going to be okay — that everything will be okay." she says confidently, moving even closer to peter and practically burying herself into his arms.

gwen smiles. "good. i'm glad."

—————

AFTER A LITTLE BIT MORE of talking, they all finally say their goodbyes and peter shuts the door gently.

they move over to the couch, peter covering them — mostly [y/n] — with one of the fuzzy throw blankets that was lying over the front of the couch.

"you doing okay?" he asks softly as she lays her face into his neck.

she smiles, feeling reassured for the first time.

she lifts her head back up to look at him.

"i know going back was stupid. i do—" before she can continue, he interrupts her with guilt evident in his brown eyes. —"i'm sorry, bug. for how angry i got earlier."

she tilts her head in confusion. "what do you mean?"

"i shouldn't have gotten upset with you. and i'm sorry for startling you. i was just worried." he murmurs seriously, frowning at her confusion.

"i just... every time i think about your dad being near you or hurting you, well, it drives me crazy, sweetheart." he says, trying to ignore the anger in his voice every time he thinks about the type of person his girlfriend's father is.

"pete... it's okay. i'm not going to go back — i learned my lesson." she says, cupping his jaw with one hand, in order to try to calm him down.

he sighs, leaning into her hand and covering it with one of his own.

"that's the point, sweetheart. you shouldn't have to be cautious and scared to avoid him, so that he doesn't act like that. it's not okay."

she frowns, wishing that she could stop him from worrying.

but, she also knows that he needs to get these feelings out and off of his chest.

"tell me, peter. what is it?" she asks, being the understanding girlfriend that he loves — no matter how cliche that actually sounds.

"i love how good-hearted you are, sweetheart. the way you always see the good in everyone, despite what they've done to you — it's amazing," he starts, pulling her hand away from his jaw to hold over one of his legs.

"and i never want you to stop being that person. but, i also hate that you have to avoid him. you shouldn't have to give up your happiness and peace."

she nods in clear understanding.

he groans again, leaning his forehead over hers.

"it's okay, peter."

he pulls away and opens his mouth to say something in defense, but she stops him by speaking before him, "peter, i know it upsets you that he doesn't get to be punished for his actions and i get that."

he stops short, giving her a chance to finish talking.

"i know you hate that. but, i know that you love me more than any urge that you have to give him what he deserves — and that's what i need you to do, okay? love me more than you hate him." he frowns at her words.

as if noticing his hesitation, she says, "for me. please?"

he sighs in defeat and nods. "fine. for you." he murmurs as he pulls her closer into his embrace and body.

she smiles in victory as she lies her head on his shoulder. "i love you, peter parker. you know that?" she murmurs, cuddling up close to him.

"i know i can always count on you." she says, once more, smiling as he chuckles and stretches over to kiss her on the forehead.

"good. because i love you more and i'll always hold you when you need it, dove." he murmurs, smiling at her calm and at peaceful face.

and like that, they cuddle until they fall asleep with peaceful expressions on their faces.

[gloomskulls]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚LIMERENCE [tasm!peter parker]

pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader

part 2

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ For Peter Parker, the deepest secret is not being Spider-Man. It's that he likes you, no he loves you, wants you in any imaginable way possible. After years of quietly admiring you from a distance, everything changes after a biology project that partners you two together. Peter sees a glimpse of chance to get nearer to you, but the line of affection and obsession begins to blur

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ obessive peter, creep peter, stalking, masturbation, panty sniffing, dirty thoughts, breaking in, just peter being hopelessly in love. If any of this finds you uncomfortable, please click out do yourself (and me also) a favor. lemme know if I missed any! MINORS DO NOT READ

If you don't want to see my dark stories in the future please block the tag #madi: dark content

A/n: my first ever fic posted on Tumblr, yippee! This is also my first ever smut so it probs be equivalent to horse poo but anyways, this also takes place in tasm 2. don't steal any of the shit I've written or else i'm gonna turn you into Vicky from Terrifier/srs

Peter didn't understand what was so special about you, you were just a crush. Or that's what he convinced himself. Every single place you were in, Peter would carefully trail behind you, like there was a magnet strapped onto you, and Peter was the metal, he would always find himself drawing next to you. Peter Parker was no stranger to keeping secrets. It was, after all, the epitome of his double life. A mask, a costume, a name that wasn't his at all. There was one secret, however, that even the Spider-Man's mask couldn't cover—his growing infatuation towards you.

It started out really simple. You decided to give back the nerdy boy's pencil in sophomore year and defended him from Flash Thompson in his junior year, it was all simple really, something a person with decency and was taught with proper manners would do. But Peter took it as more than that.

Candid photos here and there, purposefully falling of his skateboard so you would help him, cryptic notes in your locker, sometimes a random flower if Peter was lucky to find any.

Limerence, as some might say

The first people who would ever notice Peter's strange behavior where the people who raised him. Uncle Ben would notice this girl in the screen of his nephew's computer, so did Aunt May when she saw many polaroid photos of the same face underneath Peter's bed. Peter shrugged it off, saying the same exact words to the both of them.

'she's just a crush'

Peter Parker was very good at being hidden in the open. Sure, he didn't want to be invisible, but it is what it is. One of the self-working "losers" with horrible punchlines and pretty much the face screaming "nerd". Well, it didn't bother Peter much. He had many other more important things to think about. You

It's been years now. It was already the last year of senior year, graduation was already nearing, still, he hasn't mustered up the courage to do speak to you, afraid that you won't reciprocate the same feelings he has. His been watching you from a distance, stealing glances in class and making mental notes on all the little things you did, like doodling on the corners of your notebooks or, how you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were concentrating. He knew that it was weird, creepy even, but Peter couldn't stop himself.

So, when Mr. Warren announced a paired project for biology, Peter's internal monologue kicked into overdrive.

"Pair work begins today," Mr. Warren said, his smile a gruff overture that still Peter thought unnecessary. "Choose your partners wisely, just choose somebody you will along with. You can really screw up over this project if you don't!"

The room broke out into a low buzz as students shuffled their chairs and moved toward their friends. Peter didn't move. He never did. Choosing a partner was like finding a needle in a haystack type of task for him

Alright, Pete, it is not such a big deal. You are not going to end up with her or anything. Just relax, find someone cool, and—

"Peter!"

Your voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see you in front of his desk, clutching a notebook to your chest

"By any chance do you have a partner? My friends kind of made their own pairs" you asked, your lips curving into an easy smile.

Peter blinked. His brain short-circuited.

"N-nope. I'm totally solo. Flying solo. A lone wolf. A…"

"Awesome! Then let's team up."

Peter turned to you, his mind racing, he blinked, trying to absorb this. You were choosing him? He nodded frantically; his heart was hammering at a top speed that he was convinced you could hear it

You smiled at him, you fucking smiled at him

For the rest of the class Mr. Warren instructed everyone to plan for the project for the rest of the class. You kept bouncing ideas back and forth, and Peter felt a strange, thrilling sensation of in his heart. You were funny, clever, and surprisingly very easy to communicate with. Every time you laughed at one of his jokes, he felt like he was soaring.

When the bell rang, you packed your things and turned to him. "We should work on this at my place. Tomorrow after school?"

Peter nearly dropped his notebook. "Uh, yeah. Totally. I mean, yes. That works. Perfect. So super normal."

You laughed again. "Cool. Here's my address."

And with that, you scribbled it on a scrap of paper and handed it to him before walking away, leaving Peter frozen in his seat.

That night, Peter was sitting in his room staring at the address. To most people, that was just a little detail, probably not even worth a second thought. But to Peter, it was an invitation, or perhaps a key, even just for a second to get into your life. To know every little thing about you

Unfortunately, though, that's not enough.

He felt his hands shaking as he opened the drawer in his desk to reveal a small trove of hidden treasures; poorly taken pictures of you from a distance, bits of paper that you had thrown away during math class, and a small stash of hair strands that he meticulously collected from your hair comb when you weren't looking

This was love, wasn't it? The desperate consuming desire to be around her, to know everything about you.

And tomorrow, he shall get his chance.

You invited him, but Peter just knew it was really more than what you would ever willingly give.

His love was a web, and you were stepping into it, one delicate thread at a time.

Peter stood outside your house with a crumpled piece of paper clutched in his rather sweaty hand. The address on it was correct, but doubt clouded him. What if she had forgotten about this meeting? What if this was simply a joke? No, she would never do that, he tried to convince himself

Peter Parker was standing at your porch. Each thump of his heart sounded like one of the drums in the music club. He raised his hand to knock, hesitating for a moment. Maybe it was a terrible idea to come here after all; he could fake being sick, sending her an apology while rescheduling. Just then, the door swung open before he even had the chance to run.

"Hey, you found my house, I actually thought you would get lost cause I wrote the wrong color of the rooftop on the note" you said while stepping aside to let him enter.

"I was actually hesitant to knock, because it didn't look like the description" He quietly said. You actually got everything right, I was just being a huge pussy so I didn't come immediately, he thought to himself.

"Come in. I have started working on the diagram."

Peter plasted a grin and forced his legs down inside. "Well, look at you. Overachieving already. I guess I'll just sit back and let you do all the hard work."

You rolled your eyes and laughed, your voice making him feel that the world wasn't so bad after all. "Nice try, Parker. Grab a marker. You're on label duty."

"Come on, we can work in the dining area," you said, leading him across the house.

The dining table was already loaded with supplies, with textbooks scattered everywhere, colored pencils, sheets of poster paper, you name it. You positioned herself and gestured to him to join you.

You fell into a rhythm, your hand sketching the parts of the circulatory system while Peter scrawled out the labels in his neatest handwriting. He cracked jokes every few minutes, drawing out your laughter like a lifeline. It would be so easy to lose himself in the moment, pretend that you both were just two friends hanging out and not a guy hopelessly infatuated with someone who didn't even know half the truth about him.

Both of you had a relatively smooth first hour of working, few questions were asked here and there on the project. Peter kept his answers short, being extra cautious with what to share, but it seemed you did not mind. You sketched diagrams, jotting down notes with an ease that made Peter's hands tremble every time he made an attempt to help.

"So Peter," you suddenly announced after the silence, "why is it that you don't talk very much? At school I mean"

The question staggered him, rendering him blank while the colored pencil just hovered above the page.

Peter jerked up his head and looked surprised. "What do you mean? Talking is what I do. I mean, there's even people begging me to stop."

You smirked but didn't let it down. "I mean really, you're funny but I know nothing about you. What's your thing, Peter Parker?"

He didn't answer immediately but fiddled with the marker. "I'm just… some guy. Pretty boring, honestly. Not much to tell."

Your expression softened, "I don't buy that. You're not boring".

Your words made Peter's chest tighter. He wanted to believe you, yet the voice at the back of his mind reminded how wrong youwere. If you only knew the real him, the guy who had spent countless nights staring at your window, memorizing your every move, you wouldn't be smiling and sitting here before him.

"Hey, don't overthink it. You're cool. Let's just finish this masterpiece, okay?" you said, flicking his arm before he could answer.

Peter smiled forcedly

And when they finished the day's work, you walk him to the door once more, your smile as warm as ever.

"Thanks for coming over," you said. "You're actually a pretty decent partner, Parker."

"Decent?!" Peter gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. "Wow. Don't hold back; tell me how you really feel."

And you laughed, shaking your head. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Peter waved. You waved back at him, as he strolled down the street, but he did not go very far. Instead, he found himself across the street in the same place, hidden under the shadow of the oak tree.

you were in your living room again, curled around a blanket and a pillow as you watched whatever was on your screen, your face glowing softly from the light of the television. Peter leaned against the tree with both hands shoved in his jacket pockets and simply watched.

How long he'd been there, he couldn't tell, but he didn't want to leave. This was the closest he ever felt with you, even if you didn't know he was here.

He knew this was crossing the line, but he couldn't help himself. He found himself sneaking into your house. Now he really felt like a robber trying to intrude a home, expect he wasn't really going to steal anything, or so he thought.

It was late at night, you and your family were already asleep at this point

Peter knew that the right thing to do was to head home. He knew for sure that this crossed a line even he wasn't sure he could come back from. But before he could stop himself, he was moving, slipping across the street and into the shadows of your yard.

His palms were slick with sweat as he scanned the side of the house. The metal trellis leading up to your window wasn't very solid, but it would hold him if he was careful.

He carefully climbed the trellis, not putting too much weight on it. And his heart was pounding as he got to your window, his fingers brushing against the cool glass.

It wasn't locked.

At that moment, his body froze. The rational part of him screamed to stop, to climb back down and pretend this never happened. But then his hand was on the window. And that soft sound of it sliding open seemed to be deafeningly loud in the stillness of the night.

He slipped into his feet and landed silently on the carpeted floor. Your room smelled of lavender and something warm and sweet like vanilla. A little bit of moonlight filtered through the curtains and brightened the room in pale silver.

There she was

You laid curled up in your bed, the blankets pulled up to your shoulders, your face peaceful in sleep. Peter’s breath caught in his throat. You looked so serene, so utterly perfect, that it made his chest ache.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity, just watching you. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to feel—satisfaction, maybe, or relief. But all he felt was a strange mix of awe and guilt.

This was wrong.

He knew it.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

He looked around your room, it was full of polaroids of either you or your friends.

He started walking around your room quietly, careful to not wake you up in your slumber, because God knows what will happen if you saw him in your room with all its glory, he couldn't even imagine the disgust on your face.

But one thing caught his eye

Your bathroom was open, and in your bathroom was a basket with what he assumed inside were dirty laundry.

He knew it was disgusting, heck, over the top creep award would probably go to him, but he found himself walking towards the bathroom. It was wrong, but he still did it, he needs to get help, he thought to himself.

One second ago he was walking towards your bathroom, next thing you knew he was rummaging through your dirty laundry, occasionally smelling some of your shirts. He cherished the way your scent overwhelmed his nose, he was in Cloud 9.

While he was rummaging, a little piece of clothing caught his eye. With shaky hands he picked up the piece of clothing, it was your pink underwear with little cherries scattered everywhere as design.

He brought it near to his nose. He suddenly sat down in the neat cold tiles of the bathroom floor, he smelt it as if it was his oxygen.

He let out a small moan. He didn't know if it was an invisible force making him do such things, but he found his hands unbuttoning his pants

Peter Parker sat in the rest room; hand clasped tight around the lacy edge of the pink panty. He took out his hardened length of his boxers. The scent of dirty panties wafted his nose.

He imagined you wrapped around his throbbing cock, he thought of the feeling of your tight little pussy riding his cock, he wanted the sweet nectar from your lips, while having a feast on your quivering hole. His cock throbbed in his palms, his hands were much faster now, stroking his hardened cock. He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from moaning

Why was he doing this? You were literally there, outside the bathroom, sleeping. And Peter was here, out in the open, jerking off to the smell of your used panties

He was drenched in sweat as his hairs stuck to his wet forehead. He fantasized about your perky tits; perfect little nipples erect in anticipation. Pumping the shaft rapidly, imagining you on all fours begging for more, the bounce of your tits while riding him moaning his name like a mantra, Peter, fuck Peter, Peter, oh my God!

Peter was breathing heavily, his release was near, he profusely pumped his manhood, his hands and cock covered in his sticky pre-cum.

He wanted to feel you inside him, want you to quiver in pleasure as he fucks you over and over again.

He felt a sudden wave of pleasure hitting him, before he knew it, he released a flooded torrent of jizz into sticky cum as it scattered all over the floor. He slumped against the wall, heaving as he tried to steady his racing heart. He looked outside the door, finding you in the same spot as you were. You were sleeping oh so peacefully

He gazed at you, his heart full of unfulfilled yearning. He desperately wanted to be part of your world, to be someone you chose to let in. Yet no matter how many jokes he made or how close you seemed; he knew deep in his heart that he was not enough.

A soft sound broke the silence.

Peter's eyes snap to the bed, and his stomach lurch at the realization that you were stirring. Your brows knitted, your breathing started shifting, just as if you were going to wake up.

He immediately threw your panties back into the basket as he stood up and fixed his underwear and pants

He felt panic surging him, he immediately sprinted near the window. It made a loud a thud, now he was fucked

He moved quickly and quietly without thinking as he quietly ran towards the window. Just as you were about to opene your eyes, he slipped stealthily past the fluttering of curtains.

He tried scrambling down the trellis and found the ground, shivering and shaking as he did so.

He was hidden in a shadow corner, looking up towards your window. You were sitting up now, rubbing your eyes and looking around your room with a sleepy confusion.

Peter's chest tightened.

What's the matter with him?

He hurried as he turned away, his footsteps quiet against the pavement

The cool night air wrapped around Peter Parker like a cold, suffocating blanket as he walked back toward his house. Each step seemed to slant further and further as if his sneakers were scuffing wet against the cracked pavement in a slow and deliberate rhythm.

It was as if the world had gone still—entirely quiet. No cars were heard, no distant chatter, no hum of the city. Just Peter, the quiet whistle of wind through leaves, and the pounding thuds of his thoughts.

With that, he shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets, his fingers curling into tight fists. Replaying the scene, he heard the soft sound of your breathing, the warmth of your room, and the way you stirred in your bed as if you had felt him there.

What the heck are you doing, Parker? He hadn't intended to climb into your room. He hadn't intended for it to get this far. Watching from the shadows was one thing, but tonight… tonight he had crossed a line.

He stopped moving and leaned against the lamppost, his breath escaping him in short, sharp gasps. Above him, the light flickered, shining unevenly across his shadow on the ground.

"This isn't me," he whispered to himself, the voice trembling.

But wasn't it?

Hadn't he been staring at you for years, taking notes while you weren't looking, memorizing all of your movements, laughter, and smiles? He had told himself that it was just harmless admiration from a distance, but now it was clear.

What would you think if you knew?

He sighed, Peter threw back his head and gazed up at the sky. Above him the stars, though cold and distant, seemed on to him— judging him in silence.

With the words of Uncle Ben echoing in his mind, With great power comes great responsibility, Peter winced.

Peter's jaw clamped down. Not great power; not yet. But wasn't all this part of it? Taking responsibility for his actions, owning up to his mistakes before they spiraled uncontrollably out of hand?

It hit him like a gut punch.

He wouldn't ever be able to take it back. Nor would he ever be able to wipe away the fact that he'd violated your space, your privacy, in a way you might never forgive. But he could stop it from going any further. He could ensure that you never found out.

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to me

[curseofaphrodite]

you and me.

REMUS LUPIN X FEM!READER | fluff

summary: the aftermath of fake dating. | kofi

Can I feel sad over breaking up with someone I never dated? Remus thought, sipping his glass of butterbeer.

Gryffindor had won their gazillionth Quidditch match in a row, and the party was in full swing. He might be the only person not intoxicated, but the urge to let that record go became more and more persistent when he watched you laughing with that blonde prick from Ravenclaw.

Why are Ravenclaws even allowed in here? Didn't they freaking lose to Gryffindor?

"Yeah mate, but Darcy is an exception 'cause our Y/N likes him," Sirius explained, his words slurring.

"Did I say that out loud?" Remus wondered, looking at his butterbeer. "This is my first glass. How can I be drunk already?"

"My beautiful girlfriend," James sighed, patting Lily's head — who was already asleep on his lap. "Had the beautiful idea to do a Refill Charm on all utensils, so your first glass will always stay your first glass."

Remus groaned. "For Prefects, you guys do a lot of troublemaking."

"Hogwarts nearing its end, Moony," James said dreamily, his eyes soft as can be. "It's the season to let all hell break loose."

Remus grunted something inaudible, which Sirius found funny. He fell from the couch laughing.

"Woah, woah," James turned his mom-mode on. "No more refilling glass for you, Pads."

"Take it away from him first," Sirius pointed at Lupin. "He's the one crying over his ex-girlfriend."

"I thought they were just fake-dating?"

"We were!" Remus said defensively.

"For Darcy to get jealous?"

"Yes."

"And he did get jealous so they broke up?"

"We all know the story, thank you very much."

"Oh my god Sirius, do you think Remus fell in love with Y/N while they were fake dating?"

"Can you please stop talking like I'm not here!" Lupin said, throwing his hands up in protest. "Y/N is dumb to go after him and I would never like her. Most importantly, I do not like that asshole Darcy, who got the name and character of an egoistic 18th-century pig! She only liked him because he's hot and popular!"

Silence fell among your friends, one that seemed like he was in trouble. Following their line of gaze, he turned around to see you towering over him, your hands on your hips and an unmistakable hurt look.

"Y/N—"

"Is that what you think of me?" you asked softly, anger slowly tinting your voice. "And of Darcy? You helped me get him jealous and now you think he's a pig?"

"I'm drunk?" Remus tried helplessly.

"You think I went after him because he's popular and hot?!"

"Well, he is popular and hot—"

"I haven't even gone on one date with him yet and you guys are already talking shit about me!?"

"It was just Remus!" Sirius said defensively. Remus shot him a sharp glare.

"I cannot fucking believe you guys!"

You stormed off before Lupin could open his mouth again.

"For what it's worth," Marlene said earnestly. "I do think he's a pig. He's been dating that Slytherin girl on the down low. Real casual, everyone says."

Remus sat up straight. "What about Y/N then?"

"Well, my sources say he already tried asking her out on a date. And she said no."

"What, why?"

"Girls tell girls and they tell more girls. My guess is she found out about the Slytherin girl and didn't want to get involved in their mess."

"Then why on earth would she bring him to this party?" Remus asked in exasperation. "Why does she have to be so confusing!?"

Marlene shrugged.

--------------------------------------------------

Once you get mad at someone, you shut them out completely. Being your close friend, Remus knew this already, but he never expected to be on the receiving end. Over the next few days, you mysteriously disappeared whenever he saw you and never sat next to him in classes. While eating, you always came in late and sat two rows of people down, and while he tried to come up and talk to you, you'd disappear yet again.

If he didn't know better, he would have thought you mastered how to disapparate within the Hogwarts wall itself.

After Potions class one day, Remus was more determined than usual. He stayed behind when he spotted you clearing a doubt with Professor Slughorn. He'd just have to ambush you when that was done.

"You're wasting your time," Lily came by his side. "Slughorn talks her ears out for hours. And if she sees you, she'll just run to the loo, which happens to be just down the hallway."

"We're not in first year! She wouldn't be that childish."

"Oh, don't let her hear you that."

Remus sighed. "Alright, fuck it."

"Wha—?"

Before Lily could finish that question, Remus barged over to the front desk, where you were talking animatedly to Slughorn. Your eyes widened when you saw him, but before you could react, he bent down and scooped you up, and threw you over his shoulders. His werewolf strength had never been more helpful.

You yelped in surprise, but he walked off before Slughorn could react.

"Let me down!" you yelled, but he remained as quiet as ever. The last thing you saw before you talked out of that room was Lily trying to hold back a laugh.

------

Remus put you down when he reached an empty classroom, and he closed the door behind him before you could pull another disappearing act.

"You have got to stop acting like a kid!" he started, completely ignoring what Lily had said.

"Excuse me?" you scoffed, though you felt a little embarrassed yourself. "You're the one who basically called me dumb for liking a freaking guy!"

"He is a dumb guy. I didn't call you dumb. I just called the act of liking him dumb."

"How is that any different, Lupin?"

"Wow!" Remus laughed, though he looked anything but friendly. "One fight and I'm on last name basis? Over your fucking boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Then why the hell did you bring him to the party?!"

"I didn't! He came with Alice, you utter buffoon!"

That shut him up. But you weren't finished.

"You're always quick to judge and I never thought you'd include me in that list and—"

"Y/N—"

"—no, you listen to me. If I did go on a date with someone, it's none of your business since you said you'd never like me. So stop pretending like my fucking boyfriend because we stopped that act weeks ago! He and I are no more than friends than you and I are!"

Whatever he was about to say choked and died away in his throat. You felt guilty, though you didn't know why.

"No more than you and me." Remus gritted his teeth. "Makes sense."

You watched him walk away in all kinds of feelings. But before you could call out, before you could react in any way, he stopped and turned.

"Ah, fuck it," he said for the second time that day and walked straight back to you.

You felt his hold on your face and then his lips were on yours. Your eyes widened before closing altogether. You grabbed him by his collar and kissed him back, as hurried and passionate as him.

"Still friends?" he asked in between the kisses, picking you up again to put you on top of the benches.

"Not by a long shot," you smiled against his lips, pulling him closer.

----------------------

Lily's face was red when she reached the common room.

"What happened?" James asked, sitting up straight.

"Next time we have a meeting with Dumbledore, we should ask him to soundproof the dungeons." She said, shuddering.

[angie-likes-to-art]

Like a Hero

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader Summary: "Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second" Word Count: 1779 Warnings: unwanted advances (not from Peter), alcohol mention (characters are of age), bit of angst A/N: I have ideas for a part 2 of this if anyone is interested heheh

Masterlist

“C’mon babe, lemme get you a drink,” the man standing next to you at the bar insisted with slightly slurred words as he leaned in closer.

“I already told you, I have a boyfriend,” you lied through your teeth and turned away from him on your barstool. You didn’t care if he believed you or not, you just hoped he would back off. When your roommate convinced you to come to some shitty campus bar, you thought she’d actually hang out with you instead of leaving you alone at the bar. You considered leaving as you had no interest in hooking up with some dude who’d leave you high and dry and ditch you in the morning, but the other half of you wanted to make sure your roommate stayed safe. You didn’t know her too well as the two of you just got settled into the new dorm and were preparing for the upcoming semester, but you’d hope she’d do the same for you; girl code and all.

“And here you are, sitting alone,” you turned back around to see him giving you a cocky look, you know you didn’t have to prove anything to him but being neglected by your roommate, the overzealous expression he wore, and the alcohol in your system made you see red.

“And here you are, continuing to hit on someone in a relationship and not taking a hint to back off,” you exploded at him, slamming the drink you were nursing on the bartop and turning away again before whipping back, “and not that it’s any of your business, but he is here,” you regretted the words as they left your mouth, knowing you were actively digging yourself a grave.

“Oh, I’d love to meet him,” he leaned in once again, you knew he was enjoying this and was waiting to see you fumble, and you wanted so badly to wipe that smirk off his face. You quickly tried to form a plan or an excusable defense in your head, while he crossed his arms over his chest, seemingly getting off on your misfortune. You were about to give up when a tall brunette in an olive green jacket caught your eye, you recognized him from the photography class you took a while back, you remember him mostly keeping to himself, occasionally piping up during critique and actually giving really good advice. Shit, what was his name?

“Baby, there you are, I was just about to look for you,” you place a hand on his shoulder to get his attention and give him a quick pleading look to say please go with me on this.

“Sorry, the line for the bathroom was crazy, apparently some dudes started a fight in there,” he responded, giving you a quick nod of understanding while stepping closer and between you and the other guy, whose face fell in dejection.

“We should dance,” you suggested, running your hands across your “boyfriend’s” chest, trying to sell the relationship thing without pushing it too far and making him uncomfortable, “I’m being hit on by creeps over here,” you complained pointedly at the man still watching the interaction.

“Well, um,” he cleared his throat and swallowed harshly, making you back off a bit to calm his nerves but he rested his hands on your waist and kept you in place, “well, we can’t have that,” he pulled you in closer before grabbing your hands and leading you away from the bar. Your stomach erupted in butterflies and your mind went dizzy making you forget about the creep that started this and willingly followed you wherever he took you. You came back to your scenes when he stopped and turned back to you with a concerned look.

“I’m sorry about that, the dude wouldn’t drop it and I just wanted to get away from him,” you admitted, keeping your eyes trained on where your hands were still intertwined.

“No, no, it's fine, I just-” he started before being interrupted by your drunk roommate hanging off of an equally wasted guy.

“Oh, he’s cute,” you were sure that was supposed to be a whisper, “I just wanted to tell you, we're headed out,” she blew you an overdramatic kiss before making her way back to your dorm. 

“Do you-” “Um, I-” you spoke at the same time and noticed a tinge of pink on his cheeks.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged while running a hand through his perfectly messy hair.

“Do you wanna get out of here? Go somewhere quieter?” you suggested, worrying into your bottom lip.

“Yeah,” he smiled down at you, “yeah I’d like that,”

“Just not my place,” you referred to your roommate stumbling out of the building, you made a note in your head to text her later tonight to make sure she’s safe.

“That’s fair, I think there's a pizza place that stays open pretty late near here,” he checked the time on his phone, a little past midnight. You nodded as he took your hand again and led you to the door, you can tell he was visibly more relaxed once the cool night air hit his face. 

“It’s like a 10 minute walk this way, if that’s okay?” he suggested, gesturing the way toward campus. 

“Yeah, I live that way anyway,” you think about reaching for his hand again, but the sober part of your brain reminds you that you don’t actually know this guy, you don’t even remember his name, “were you there with anyone?” you start to conduct an investigation.

“Yeah, my buddy, Harry had just left before you grabbed me, he was mad that they didn’t have some top shelf liquor or something,” he laughed at the recollection, “I was heading out too.”

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t take you away from your girlfriend or anything,” you’d like to think you were being subtle, but you were definitely not sober enough to not be totally obvious with your questioning.

“Nope, no girlfriend, besides you now,” he joked, which made your cheeks heat up, “I’m Peter, by the way.” Ohhh that was his name, he definitely knew you were interrogating him now.

You told him your name too, and surprisingly he remembered your face from the photo class. He told you that he’s a photojournalism major, you shared yours as well and talked about how school was going for both of you. You learned that he was living in Queens with his aunt and commuting to Manhattan for classes, he told you that he plans on moving in with Harry eventually but doesn’t really want to live in whatever bougie penthouse Harry wants to buy. (His friend Harry is apparently super wealthy.) You told him that you were living in the dorms since you were lucky enough to get a hefty scholarship to Empire State University that promised housing so you didn’t have to rent an apartment in Manhattan.

Once you got to the pizza place, it was pretty packed with a bunch of other college students hungry from a night out, luckily they got your slices out to you pretty fast.

“I got it, for saving me,” you lightly swatted Peter’s hands away when he tried to pay for the slices. “You're my hero, like Spider-Man or something,” you joked, hoping to flatter him, but when you looked back at him, after handing the cashier your card, you were just met with wide eyes and his bright red face.

“Heh, it was nothing like that, it was no problem,” he laughed nervously, brushing you off, “I was just trying to find someone to buy me pizza.” He joked back and you couldn’t help but chuckle too, half because it was funny and half that you were glad you didn’t embarrass him too much with the hero comment. 

“Let’s sit outside, it's hot in here.” Peter leads you outside with his free hand on the small of your back. You both sat on the curb and ate your pizza, you didn’t realize how hungry you were until you took the first bite, no wonder this place was packed, greasy pizza really hits the spot after a long night. 

Once you were both done scarfing down your food, Peter grabbed your empty paper plate from you and set them to the side. You giggled when he turned back and you saw a smear of pizza sauce on the side of his mouth. 

“What?” he laughed back, “Do I have something on my face?” He wiped the wrong side of his face with his hand.

“Yeah, come here,” you scooted closer to him, and swiped your thumb across his cheek to clean the sauce up, when you look up from his mouth to his eyes, he’s looking at yours. Before he can shy away, you give him a sweet smile. “Thank you again.” 

“Anytime,” he smiled back, that smile must have had a gravitational pull because you were leaning in as soon as it spread across his face.

Suddenly he sat up at attention, and that smile dropped from his face, like he had heard something.

“You okay?” you were genuinely concerned, you thought you were picking up good signals. You had significantly sobered up from the walk and the pizza and weren't nearly as buzzed as you were an hour ago, but maybe your judgement was still a bit skewed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” He didn’t sound all that convinced, “I just, I have to go.” He stands up abruptly, but still offers a hand to help you up. You hesitantly take it and let him pull you up.

“Are you sure?” You try to search his face for anything that says he was uncomfortable, or you crossed a boundary, anything to explain the sudden shift.

“Yeah, I am so sorry to leave like this,” Peter looks you in the eyes, and you can see he means it, “I’m really, really sorry, I just have to go,” he pulls his wallet from his pocket and hands you a twenty dollar bill, “Here, for a taxi, please get home safe.” 

Before you can respond or even nod, he runs off to the alley next to the pizza place, leaving you standing on the curb confused and alone. Only left with the bill he stuffed into your hand and the replayed, hurried apologies he was giving you, contrasting the easy laughter and connection you felt just moments before. With a sigh, you crumpled the bill and turned toward the street, away from the warm glow of the pizza place and chatter of people winding down for the night that seemed to mock how suddenly cold you felt.

[forever-rogue]

TASM!Peter thought I cannot get out of my head for the life of me: Reader pestering him about him and his weird spider abilities like Ned in the MCU movies, but he’s just so loving and patient because he knows he’s weird and she’s naturally curious

AN | Imagine finding out your boyfriend is Spider-Man. It’s going to leave you with a lot of questions, isn’t it?❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings | mild language

Word Count | 2.8k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Peter?”

“This isn’t what it-”

“No way!”

“Babe, this is not. I”m not-”

“Holy fuck.”

“Please, you’re dreaming. I’m not actually-”

“Spider-Man,” you blinked a few times and scrubbed at your eyes just to make sure you weren’t dreaming. But when you looked back at your boyfriend he was still standing there, halfway between the window and bathroom, mask in hand and spandex still covering his body. He looked entirely mortified at having been caught, “Peter.”

“Honey, it’s not…I…” he hung his head and let out a long sigh, annoyed with himself for being so careless, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re Spider-Man,” it was all setting in and you weren’t quite sure how to feel; it was a wild mixture of excitement and annoyance and worry and love - everything all at once, “I…you never told me. We’ve been together for almost three years.”

“I know, sweetheart…it was just better than way,” he tossed the mask onto the couch and took a few steps closer to you. You tensed up and shook your head, “I just wanted to keep you safe. That’s all.”

“You lied to me,” you pouted at him and that was enough to break his heart. If there was anything he hated in the world, it was seeing you upset, “for years.”

“I didn’t lie,” he tried softly but you huffed at him, “purposely. You know I would never do anything to hurt you. Everything I do is to protect you.”

“I feel so stupid,” you scrubbed a hand over your tired face in exasperation. All the weird quirks and odd comings and goings seemed to make sense. It felt almost silly that you hadn’t put the pieces together before. Peter wasn’t exactly subtle, “all this time. The random bruises and cuts…the times you suddenly have to leave - your weird schedule. It seems so obvious, doesn’t it? I…Peter Parker.”

“Baby-”

“You’re trying to keep me safe but what about you?” a deep frown settle on your features and Peter shook his head, trying to keep you from going down that particular train of thought, “oh my god. Anything could happen to you! And what if…if something did happen, how would I know?”

Peter gently shushed you, his strong hands settling on your shoulders with a reassuring squeeze. You looked at him, studying his big honey brown eyes and tried to keep the tears in your own eyes from spilling over, “nothing is going to happen to me, I swear it. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“It isn’t funny,” you sniffled as a few tears ran down your cheeks, quickly and tenderly wiped away by Peter, “I love you, you dumb bug. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” he whispered, brushing his knuckles along your cheek, “you know why?”

“Why?” you huffed softly, reaching for his hand and bringing it to your lips so you could press a kiss to it.

“Because I have to get home to you,” he smiled softly, looking more boyish than anything. You exhaled slowly but nodded, “I’m always going to come home to you. There’s nothing I want more.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he agreed and you allowed yourself to relax slightly, “by the way, spiders aren’t bugs. Spiders are spiders…well arachnids but they’re a completely separate thing.”

“Fine, you big dumb spider,” you let out a small laugh before playfully rolling your eyes, “you’re just lucky you look in spandex.”

“Yeah?” he teased, turning in a circle and striking a pose, “you think?”

“Shut up,” you groaned as he laughed, “just come to bed with me. But just so you know, this conversation isn’t over.”

“I would expect nothing less, love.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It took some time to get used to the idea of Peter, your sweet, nerdy, wonderful boyfriend, being Spider-Man. He just never seemed capable of something like that but when you really thought about it, it all made sense. Peter was brilliant and had a kind soul; him helping people just went hand in hand with who he was. 

You weren’t sure if you’d ever get over your worries that something would happen to him - just like he wanted to protect you, you wanted to protect him. That, however, didn’t negate the fact that you had numerous questions for him. You wanted to know everything you could about him well, his spider abilities rather. 

You were curious, luckily Peter loved that curiosity. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Where do your webs come from?” you’d been wrapped up in the book you were reading but the question suddenly hit. Peter was sitting across the couch from you, doing some work on his laptop. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you, causing your face to warm up, “I just…you have webby stuff, right? Like…where does it come from?”

“Web shooters,” he answered simply, closing his laptop with a soft laugh and giving you his full attention, “it doesn’t come out of my body, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“But spiders have it-”

“Not a spider,” he reminded you as you closed your book and tossed it on the coffee table, “human-spider hybrid. Kind of. I think that’s what you’d call it.”

“Why don’t they call you Human-Spider-Hybrid-Man?” you made a small sound of surprise as Peter reached over and gently maneuvered you onto his lap. His large hands settled on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “wouldn’t that be more accurate?”

“You’re overthinking it,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I don’t make it in my body. I make it at the lab.”

“My genius Human-Spider-Hybrid,” you grinned at him and he couldn’t help but return the smile. To say he adored you was putting it lightly, “will you show me sometime? I wanna see it in action.”

He cocked his head to the side as he let go of your waist and held his arms up. You looked at him in confusion and he pulled back the sleeves of his sweater, “they’re right here.”

“Oh,” you reached for one of his arms and looked over the small band around his wrist, “oh? I always thought they were just…bracelets.”

“That’s the point,” he said as you made a small sound of revelation. You held his hand in yours and gave it a tight squeeze, “it’s really not that exciting.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” how could he think being Spider-Man wasn’t exciting? You took his face gently in your hands as you studied the pretty boy, “you are always fascinating and exciting to me.”

“That’s because you love me,” he put his hands on top of yours and give them a squeeze, “you’re biased.”

“I do love you - very much,” you agreed, “but I’d still think the same regardless, Peter Parker.”

He paused before nodding slightly, “I love you too.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter could feel you watching him, despite your best efforts to remain subtle. It should be noted, however, that your best efforts were pitiful; you might have been openly gawking at him. He stopped what he was doing and turned to you with a small little smirk on his features, “take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“That’s your area of expertise not mine, Parker,” you weren’t going to bother denying that he’d caught you. You walked over to the kitchen and hopped onto the counter, swinging your legs back and forth as you watched him finish putting away the dishes, “but you make a pretty picture.”

“And yet still not nearly as beautiful as you,” he put the last mug into the cabinet before turning on his heel and pressing a kiss to your cheek, “why were you watching me like a creepo, huh?”

“I wasn’t watching you! Not like a creepo,” your cheeks warmed up as you gnawed on the inside of your cheek, “I was just…admiring.”

“Uh huh,” he teased, settling his arms on the counter and caging you in, “ admiring. You’re cute. Now tell me what you’re really thinking about.”

“It’s stupid,” you offered him a sheepish smile but Peter just tutted at you before nudging his nose against yours, “promise not to laugh?”

“I promise,” he whispered sweetly, “you know you can tell me anything.”

“It’s a question,” you paused for a moment, “are you like super, super strong? ‘Cause aren’t spiders like proportionally strong?”

Peter leaned back and laughed softly, causing you to gently shove his shoulder. Not that it would matter - he was basically unmoveable. He grabbed your hand and laced his fingers through yours before you could say anything, “sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to laugh - I’m a horrible, terrible liar. It’s just…you’re precious.”

“Shut up,” you couldn’t deny that inside you were beaming from his praise, “I am not precious! Just curious.”

“I’m pretty strong,” he explained softly as you nodded, “maybe not the strongest being in the galaxy but its up there. I can show you sometime.”

“That’s why you can move things so easily,” it made sense now, why he never seemed to have an issue with moving the furniture or carrying in all the groceries at once, “wow. You’re amazing. The Amazing Spider-Man.”

“Not amazing,” he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you off the counter, easily and effortlessly holding you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and looped your arms around his neck, “just basically a mutant freak.”

“You’re my mutant freak,” you buried your face in his chest, but not before pressing a kiss to his neck, “that I love, very much.”

“The mutant freak loves you very much too,” you could feel the laughter rumble in his chest as you allowed yourself to melt into him, “curious girl.”

“Can’t blame me,” he could feel you grinning against his skin, “not everyday you find out boyfriend is Spider-Man.”

“True,” he agreed, “I’d be pretty shocked if I found out my boyfriend was Spider-Man.”

“Peter!” this time you were laughing too as he started to walk you both down the hall towards the bedroom, “where are we going?”

“Bedroom,” he rasped, “I can show you how strong I am.”

“Oh,” you felt your entire body warm up, “yes please.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late at night, but you weren't feeling too tired just yet. You were in bed, staring at the ceiling and deep in thought as Peter laid next to you reading. You liked listening to him make some small sounds as he read and the sounds of the pages turning.

“I'm not a mind reader but you're thinking much too loudly,” Peter stole a quick glance at you, causing you to scoff loudly as you rolled onto your side so your back was to him, “honey.”

“Mind your business, Parker,” you burrowed further into your pillow, “I was just staring at the ceiling.”

“Hmm,” he mused softly, “what's your silly question of the day?”

“Excuse- first of all, my questions aren't silly,” you sat up right and crossed your arms over your chest, “and secondly, you're Spider-Man! I have a million questions. Don't be a jerk.”

“I am not,” he insisted through a few giggles as you smacked him with a pillow. You knew that you'd never hurt him which just made the situation all that much more ridiculous, “I love your curiosity. I love all the little things that cross your mind.”

“Now you're just pitying me,” Peter rolled his eyes as he pulled in between his legs so the the two of you were facing one another. He put his large hands on your calves and gave them a gentle squeeze, “Pete.”

“I love you, you know?” He asked softly as you nodded. If there was anything you knew in the world it was that Peter Parker adored you to no end. But then, you loved him just ask much, “you never gotta worry about asking me anything. So come on baby, tell me.”

“Fine. Fine,” you groaned softly before mumbling your question to him, “can you like stick to walls and stuff?”

You'd said it so quickly and fast that Peter hadn't caught what you were saying, “pardon?”

“Ugh,” you huffed, “do you have the ability to crawl on the walls and ceiling like real spiders? Or is something your weird mutant DNA didn't get.”

Peter tried his best not to laugh but he could barely stop the corners of his mouth from quirking up, “yeah, babe, that is something I can do.”

“Whoa,” you watched as Peter stuck his hand to the wall and showed you how it stuck, “that's so cool. Kinda gross but cool.”

“It's definitely gotten me out of a few scrapes before,” he admitted, “I'll take you for a ceiling walk some time.”

Your face lit up with pure excitement before your brows furrowed in confusion, “will our kids have your spidey thingies? What did you call it the other day? Spidey senses?”

Peter had stopped processing anything you were saying as soon as he’d heard our kids. It had stocked something deep within him. He only came back to reality when he felt you tickling his side, “our kids? What do you mean our kids?”

“Oh,” your cheeks warmed up as you bit your lips and shrugged lightly, “I dunno, I just think about it sometimes. You know, one day we’ll have kids. We’ve always talked about that. Unless…you changed your mind?”

“No!” he said much too quickly as a small smile tugged up the corners of your mouth, “I haven’t changed my mind. I-I want kids. With you. Only you.”

“Good,” you relaxed slightly as Peter’s entire face turned bright red, “so what do you think? Will they be part mutant spiders?”

“I don’t know exactly how that works,” he whispered as he pulled you closer to him, “maybe it would be inherited or not. I’m not a geneticist.”

“No,” you shook your head as you took his hand in your face, “just a biophysicist and biochemist. Hardly anything to brag about.”

“I’m basically a professional clown,” he grinned as you traced your fingers along the contours over his face. He was so pretty and you loved getting to have him just like this, gentle and quiet and all yours. He took one of your hands in his and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “luckily I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you too, Peter Parker,” you pulled him into a tight hug; if he had been a normal person you might have crushed him a little too much. Luckily, he was able to withstand your embrace and tenderly hugged you right back, “my Spider-Man.”

“All yours,” he agreed easily, “all yours.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was spring now, and the nights were gentle and warm, finally not filled with rain as they seemed to have been the entire winter. You were leaning out the window and taking in the sights and sounds of the New York evening. 

You heard the door to the apartment open, followed by Peter’s familiar footsteps. Before you could turn around to greet him, you felt his arms wrap around your waist as he pulled you into his chest and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. You sighed softly as you pressed your body into him, “hello my love.”

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered into your ear, “what are you doing hanging out the window?”

“Just admiring the city,” you turned around so you were facing him, “and now I’m admiring you. I’ve got another question for you, my spider.”

“Which is?”

“Will you take me swinging?” you asked softly, a nervous little expression on your face. Peter’s face grew into a large smile as he nodded eagerly. He’d imagined what it would be like with you loads of times before. He never thought he’d get to make it an actual reality, “but promise you won’t drop me?”

“I swear I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised, “and I promise you’ll have fun. Whenever you’re ready, just say the-”

“I’m ready,” you said excitedly as Peter laughed softly, “can we go now?”

“Yes,” he kissed your cheeks, “let me go and change. Then we’ll go swinging.”

“You’re the best, Parker,” you grinned at him, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he looked at you with soft heart eyes, “my spider girl.”

[spider-stark]

INFINITELY YOU

part three // spitfire

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

WARNINGS - 18+, minors DNI

WORD COUNT - 4.5k

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

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

On the walk back from Peter Pan’s, it seemed as though Parker had managed to entirely escape the sputtering awkwardness that had ensnared him the night before. 

And, after countless city blocks of listening to him babble about absolutely everything and anything, you realized that there was one very striking similarity between him and Peter. 

Both boys had a fervent interest in all things nerd. 

“New Hope takes place nearly two decades after the rise of the Galactic Empire, meaning that Leia is only nineteen when she's kidnapped and forced aboard the Death Star! Which is like, absolutely insane, right? Seriously! Imagine being nineteen years old and stuck inside of something that has the potential to obliterate an entire planet!” 

Shoving open the lobby door to your complex, Parker hardly even waits for you to hum your agreement before continuing his retelling of the Star Wars film. 

“And at the exact same time, Luke is finally beginning his Jedi training! Which, honestly, nineteen is actually super old for that, but-” 

Moving towards the stairs, Parker close on your heels, you cut him off with a question. “Too old? Nineteen is hardly even an adult,” you argue. “What age do most Jedi start training?” 

“About four or five, so obviously Luke was way behind,” 

Not even a full three stairs up, you come to a grinding halt, leaving Parker to bump into your back. “Four?!” You cry out, wide-eyed as you spin around to face him. “That’s insane!” 

Parker only lifts his shoulders, clearly not understanding the reason for your horror. 

Furthering your point, you add, “There’s nothing ethical about taking a bunch of little kids and training them to be weird, intergalactic warriors!” 

“It’s the best way to train them!” He lifts his hand defensively, explaining, “The earlier they start training, the less likely it is that the kids will have formed an attachment to their families! That way they learn to act out of logic instead of emotion!” 

For a heartbeat, you’re rendered entirely speechless by the absurdity of his claim, left to stand with your mouth agape as you blink at him. 

“That sounds like emotional abuse,” you finally huff, shaking your head. “Actually, scratch that—it doesn’t sound like emotional abuse, it just is!” 

“It’s not abuse-” 

You hold a hand up, stopping him before he can say anything else. “Give me one good reason why a group of adults should withhold love and affection from children if they aren’t abusing them.” 

“Uh, how about the fact that love is basically what made Anakin turn to the dark side!” Parker scoffs, clearly unwilling to recognize how insane the notion he was pushing actually is. 

“Or maybe Anakin turned to the dark side because he was indoctrinated and traumatized by some stupid space cult!” 

The expression on his face is downright laughable. 

It was as if you had just reached out and slapped him across the face. His jaw went slack, his mouth hung open in blatant offense. As a sputtering noise falls from his lips, trying and failing to come up with a good rebuttal, you smirk. 

“Exactly,” you boast, taking his inability to speak as a sign of victory. 

Twirling on your heel, you continue up the stairs, nearly all the way to the top before you finally hear him come stomping up behind you. 

“The Jedi Order is not a cult!” He finally shouts after you. 

Already traipsing through the hallway, fiddling with your keys, you sing-song, “Whatever you say, bug-boy.” 

Reluctant to admit defeat, Parker continues grumbling under his breath as you unlock the door, spouting something off about your lack of respect for George Lucas. 

“Look,” you tell him, pushing the door open, “if liking Star Wars matters this much to you, then I’ll gladly watch them with you.” A wry smile plays on your lips as you turn to look at him, standing in the doorway, “Maybe watching them will be enough to change my opinion on turning kids into galactic slaves.” 

Eyes narrowing in a playful glare, he’s only able to hold the expression for less than a few seconds before a laugh causes him to break character. “I just can’t believe that Peter hasn’t made you watch them already,” he admits. “I had you watch them so much that you could probably recite the scripts from memory alone!” 

His amusement dies off as soon as he finishes the sentence. Despite having been the one to bring it up, the mention of his world seems to cast a sullen shadow over him, ruining his sweet, boyish smile. 

Curiosity instantly claws at you, begging you to ask him why his world seemed to have such a negative effect on him. Or, rather, why his version of you seemed to have such an effect. 

This had happened last night too, when you had asked him if the two of you were friends in his world—and it was because of this that you assume that you’re somehow the common denominator in his discomfort. 

Still, you don’t let yourself ask him about it. For as much as you’re starting to like Parker, you don’t know him nearly well enough to try prying into his life. 

Not yet, at least. 

“Well, you’re more than welcome to force me into sitting through them in this world, too.” You tell him sweetly, sweeping an arm out to gesture inside of your apartment, inviting him. “It’s not like I’ve got any plans for the rest of the day.” 

You couldn’t even remember the last time you did have plans. Life had been so quiet since that last night with Peter and Mj—the night when everything went so horribly wrong. 

Parker sucks in a breath through his teeth, a hand coming to rest against the back of his neck. “I should probably get back out on the streets,” he reluctantly says, sounding more like he was convincing himself of that than you. “But, I don’t know, maybe we can take a rain check on it, yeah?” 

Disappointment washes over you, sudden enough that you’re sure it shines through on your face. It takes a shocking amount of willpower to stop yourself from trying to persuade him to stay, wanting to remind him that two other Spider-Men were already running themselves ragged in pursuit of the villains—so why did he have to go, too? 

You had grown used to his constant talking, having found solace in the chatter that kept you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Selfishly, you wanted him to stay so that you wouldn’t have to be alone; so that you wouldn’t have to risk thinking too long about Doctor Strange or the multiverse or constants or Peter. 

The thought of admitting any of that out loud, however, felt incredibly humiliating. 

“For sure,” you force a smile, trying to ignore the many thoughts swirling in your mind. Then, eyeing the slightly too-tight Ramones shirt that he’d stolen from you, you add, “But shouldn’t you at least come in and change?” 

His nose wrinkles slightly as he shakes his head. “Nah—I think this city has more than enough spider-people swinging around it right now. I figure we might actually benefit from one of us patrolling on the ground-level, y’know? Maybe I can ask around for any giant lizards or blown light bulbs.” 

It’s hard to tell if the last bit is meant to be a joke or not, but you laugh anyway if only to avoid knowing why you should be worried about lizards and light bulbs. 

“Sounds like a plan,” you second his idea. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later then?” 

A surprising sense of joy lights his eyes at the sound of your hesitance, unfitting of the simplicity of the moment, but charming nonetheless. He grins—a wide and endearing sort of grin—as he takes a step back, “I won’t be gone long,” he promises before reminding you, “lock the door behind you, alright? And if you need anything-” 

He pauses, patting the pockets of his jeans only to remember that he didn’t bring a phone with him to this universe—and that, even if he did, there likely wasn’t a wireless plan good enough to support multiversal travel. 

“If you need anything, call 911.” 

“Got it,” you laugh, watching as he stumbles backwards towards the stairwell, cheeks red with faint embarrassment. 

Turning to go inside, you can’t ignore the warmth that now blooms in your chest. 

You could definitely get used to having him around. 

A peculiar sensation prickles at your skin, curling along your spine like icy fingertips. 

Something was wrong. Very wrong. 

The usually comfortable atmosphere of your apartment had shifted. An eerie tension fills the space, a near-suffocating feeling that has the very walls holding their breath, humming a tune of warning as you inch further into the living room. 

Your stomach twists as the sharp tang of exhaust fumes fills your nostrils. By the couch, a faint breeze rustles the curtains of a window, wafting in the nauseating scent of the city street below—a window that hadn’t been open when you left earlier. 

A mere foot or so away, you notice that the picture frame Parker had been fiddling with before is now lying on its face, having been knocked off the end table and abandoned. Atop the table, you notice that the lamp is sitting askew, its base just inches from tumbling over the edge and joining the frame. 

Someone had come in through your window—and it didn’t appear as though stealth had been very important to them, given that they had clearly stumbled into the table upon their entrance. 

Adrenaline floods your senses, your spine stiffening as you take a series of slow, quiet steps. 

Moving towards the corner, you carefully reach out a hand to grab the metal bat propped against the wall. The bat had been an unlikely housewarming present from when you first moved in, given to you by Peter’s mentor and your own reluctant renegade, Tony Stark. For nearly two years now it had sat in this corner, unused and gathering dust—until now. 

You wrap your fingers tightly around the base, wincing slightly as the rubber grip pulls at the still-healing flesh on your palm, making you curse yourself for not properly bandaging the wound last night. 

But you’re used to pain—and so you’re easily able to bite back against it as you ease through the living room, checking for any sign of the intruder's presence. 

As you walk, gripping the bat like your life depends on it, you can’t help but hear Tony Stark’s voice echo in your mind. 

If you’re gonna live alone, then you should have some sort of protection—he had told you, gently placing the cool steel into your hands for the first time, a ribbon tied sloppily around it—not that you need it. 

Satisfied with your search of the living room, you start easing towards the hall. You’re good at sneaking around, having had a lot of practice at it—every movement you make is calculated, every footfall so purposefully gentle that it’s nearly silent. 

Quiet as you were, you could do nothing to ease the sound of your blood thrumming wildly in your own ears, your heart pounding against your chest. 

The incessant beating worries you—because you know that there are people in the world with the unnatural ability to hear such things. Peter, even with his enhanced hearing, had to be close to someone in order to hear something as soft as their heartbeat; but you had heard rumors that there were others who could hear a pulse from miles away, others like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

The thought makes your blood run cold, though you try to push the worries from your mind. From what you know, the Devil doesn’t have a habit of breaking into apartments, nor was Queen's his usual jurisdiction. 

No—what you were dealing with had to be no more than an average burglar! 

An average burglar who, somehow, scaled up the side of a building to break into your apartment… 

Alright—you think, approaching the end of the hall—perhaps it’s a not-so-average burglar, then! Still better than the Devil. 

Peeling one hand from the bat’s handle, you curl your fingers around the doorknob to the guest room, Parker’s room. You ease the door open slowly, trying to keep the old hinges from crying out as you peer into the space. 

The sweet scent of vanilla is the first thing that hits you, contrasted by the subtle bite of vetiver. 

Parker—the room smells of him, even though he had only been here for one night. 

On the bed, the quilt is rumpled and thrown about, pillows strewn about. The doors of the armoire are wide open, a few old shirts hanging over the edge of one of the shelves, no doubt from when he went digging through your clothes in search of something to wear. 

The room was messy, but empty. 

Your shoulders sag, half-a-breath loosing from your lungs. The relief is short-lived, however; as by the time you edge back into the hall to turn towards your own door, you’re overwhelmed with dread. 

If whoever broke in was still here, then this was the only place they could be—save for the bathroom, though you seriously doubt any burglar would have much interest in scouring through your toiletries… 

Easily, gracefully, you twist the knob, the metal yielding quietly to your careful touch. 

The curtains are tightly drawn, eradicating any trace of sunlight and leaving the room cloaked in shadows. But, even in the darkness, you’re able to see the rough outline of a figure sprawled out across your mattress. 

For a split second, you think of Parker’s advice to call 911, the weight of your phone suddenly heavy in your back pocket. 

You think of how you should follow that advice. 

You think about how fast you could run—if you would be able to reach the front door before they could catch up to you. 

But then you stop thinking, disregarding all logic and reason as you take a step into the room, as if drawn in by some invisible force. 

Remaining mindful of your surroundings, you slowly approach the edge of the bed. Squinting in the darkness, you try to study the body laid out atop your comforter. Watching the steady rise-and-fall of their chest, it suddenly hits you that, whoever they are, they’re asleep. 

Slinking around the corner and coming to stand at your bedside, you’re finally close enough that you can see them in spite of the absence of light. Crimson and blue spandex clings tightly to their arms as they cling one of your pillows to their chest, and you feel your entire body sag with relief as you loosen your grip on the bat. 

So this must be Peter 2. 

The fabric of his mask is bunched up and resting along the bridge of his nose, which is somewhat smushed against the pillow he’s holding, no doubt leaving him to breathe in the scent of laundry detergent and your perfume. 

Lower, you can make out the subtle contours of his jawline and the curve of soft, pink lips. Higher, you’re met with the impassive stare of then white lenses sewn into his mask. 

The lenses shield his eyes from your view, and a curious feeling begins to tug at the furthest corners of your mind. Take it off—it seems to whisper, compelling you to move in closer, your shins pressing against the side of the mattress—take it off. 

You grit your teeth and try to ignore the feeling, try to ignore the velvet-voice slithering through your mind; begging you to look at him, to touch him, to notice him, to-

Pain shoots along the side of your temple, likely in response to the sudden tightness in your jaw. It distracts you enough that you’re able to shake the strange feeling long enough to regain your focus—even if the remnants of it still linger. 

You shouldn’t be interested in him—you should be pissed at him. 

Not only had he broken into your house, which was already bad enough, but he had also climbed into your bed and made himself cozy! The absolute gall, the audacity he must have, has you allowing the tiniest sliver of rage to ignite inside of you. 

Both hands still gripping the bat, you lower it from where it rests against your shoulder to swiftly jab its head into his stomach. 

A cough sputters past his lips as the impact pushes the air from his lungs. 

You’re actually shocked that you landed the blow—in truth, you had expected his spider-sense to kick in and detect the incoming hit, waking him with just enough time to dodge the shot. But, apparently, his instincts had made the mistake of assuming that you were of no threat to him. 

“Morning sunshine,” you chime, your feigned cheerfulness set off by a sneer. 

He’s scrambling into an upright position, knees sinking into the mattress as he presses a hand against the sore spot you’d created on his stomach. “What the fu-” 

His voice is hoarse—from sleep or pain, you’re not sure—and he doesn’t finish the curse spewing from his mouth once his head shoots up towards you, as if finally registering the sound of your voice. 

“I don’t know what things are like in your world,” you muse, swinging your bat back to rest against your shoulder, “but in this one, breaking and entering is considered a crime.” 

He’s still catching his breath, and while those damn white lenses covering his eyes give so little emotion away, you assume that he’s going to apologize. It’s what Peter would do, and Parker, too. 

But not him. 

“Your friends said I could stay here,” he defends himself. Taking another deep breath and extinguishing the burning in his lungs, the lower-half of his face transforms into a defiant smirk. “It’s not breaking and entering if you were invited.” 

“And did they tell you to sleep in my bed, too?” You shoot back, brows rising in annoyance. “Word of advice: next time you’re invited to stay in a total stranger’s house, maybe try not to repay their kindness by crawling through their window.” 

He mocks you without missing a beat, “Word of advice: you live in a shitty neighborhood—if you don’t want people coming through your windows, you should try locking them.” 

“Ah, right! Cause the average person is definitely willing to scale the side of a building for the prospect of an unlocked window!” 

“You’re a pretty girl in a dangerous city,” he drones, lifting a shoulder as he meets your sarcasm with purposeful calm. “You’d be surprised what people would be willing to do for a chance at getting you alone.” 

The insinuation sends a shiver down your spine, but you mask your unease, flashing a smile that’s more predatory than sweet. “Aw,” you coo, “so you think I’m pretty?” 

He returns the expression, skillfully avoiding your derisive question. “I think you’re irresponsible—and a little cocky.” 

“Better to be cocky than a felon,” you remark. “Just spare my neighbors the acrobatics show next time, would you? Maybe try knocking on the door like a normal person! Preferably when you’re not dressed like… that.” 

It’s not that his suit wasn’t nice, because it was. But it lacks the advanced Stark-tech that makes Peter’s suit so uniquely sleek, meaning that it was likely safe to assume that no one in this world would mistake this boy for the real Spider-Man. 

Unless they were to catch him scaling up the side of your building… 

“I tried knocking.” he sounds exasperated, as if you are testing his patience. “You weren’t home.” 

You snort a laugh, wondering if he truly believes that is all the reason he needs to break into someone's home. 

“Then you should’ve waited until I got home,” 

“I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. I was too tired to wait.” 

“Then you should’ve slept in the alleyway with the rest of the strays,” you hiss at him, fingers tightening around the bat as your frustration builds. 

The sheer ferocity in your voice gives him pause, stunning him into silence. 

Then the corner of his mouth begins to twitch upwards, lazily grinning at you as if he actually enjoys the verbal onslaught. 

You can tell that he’s watching you through those white lenses, and his tongue darts over his bottom lip, you feel your breath catch in your throat. “Fine,” amusement dances in his tone as he raises his gloved hands, “fair enough.” 

For a moment, no sound comes from your parted lips, leaving you to stand there gaping at him until you remember how to speak. “Fair enough?” You echo, shaking your head slightly. “That’s all you’ve got? No apology?” 

He moves, forcing you to take a step back as he shoves his legs over the side of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s not as tall as Parker, but he still stands an inch or so higher than you, making it hard to not feel intimidated as he stares down at you, your own face staring back from the reflection of his lenses. 

“Better not push your luck, Spitfire,” 

He’s baiting you—he has to be! Using a stupid nickname to get under your skin, to try and prod further at your short temper. And it’s working—god, you hate how much it’s working!—because you find yourself contemplating putting his superhuman durability to the test by whacking him over the head with your bat. 

“By the way,” he says before you have a chance to act on your intrusive thoughts, pointing at your hands, “you’re bleeding.” 

As if his words switch a flip in your head, you’re suddenly aware of the acute throbbing in your palm. You loosen your grip on the bat, letting it clatter recklessly to the floor as you hold your hand out to examine it. 

Unsurprisingly, the rubber handle managed to tear open the barely-healed cut on your palm, courtesy of your too-tight grip on it. You hiss through your teeth, watching as blood oozed from the cut, dripping down towards your wrist. 

Slipping past you, the boy only half-manages to stifle his laugh. “You should probably take care of that.” 

He’s already slipping out into the hall by the time you regain enough awareness to follow after him, gritting your teeth against the pain. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” 

“To the other room,” he calls over his shoulder. Once he’s standing in front of Parker’s door, he spins back around to face you, his snarky expression still in-tact. “Where I’m hoping you won’t follow me.” 

Everything about him causes your blood to boil—his grating voice, his insolent attitude, his stupid soft lips. 

“Would it kill you to be nice to me?” You exclaim, your voice strained with pain as you try to wrap your hand in the lower half of your shirt. 

It takes no-time for blood to start seeping through the thin material, and you certainly don’t look intimidating like this—the lower half of your abdomen on display as you try to apply whatever pressure you can to the wound—but you don’t care. 

“I don’t have to let you and Parker stay in my house—I’m doing it because I’m nice, alright? And, so far, you’ve been nothing but a dick!” 

The thin fabric of his mask shifts, brows furrowing at the mention of Parker. Unlike Peter, however, he doesn’t bother commenting on the nickname. “Nice isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe you. Especially since you’re the one calling me names.” 

The levity in his tone makes you want to scream—what was his deal?! 

You press harder against your bleeding palm, your breathing turning shallow. You’re not sure if it’s frustration or pain or what, but you feel like your head is spinning. “Look, I don’t know you, alright? But this? Isn’t gonna work,” you bark at him, chin lifted defiantly as you stare into his mask, unrelenting. “If you plan on staying in my house, then you’ll get your shit together—got it?” 

His head tilts, curiously watching as you continue your frantic speech. 

“No crawling in through my windows or sleeping in my bed or smarting shit off! And take off that stupid mask!” You huff, shaking your head. “Or, I don’t know, pull it down the rest of the way! Just do something because you look stupid like that!” 

The words are spewing from your mouth like a torrential downpour, fueled by the rage swirling in your stomach and the throbbing in your hand and—

He laughs, a genuine laugh that isn’t born of derision, and you feel your racing thoughts slow to a halt. “You should work on your insults,” reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs his mask off. “Because that was pathetic.” 

It’s no longer just your thoughts that have slowed, but the entire world. Everything around you feels like it has come skidding to a stop—leaving you staring up at him like a dumbfounded idiot. 

He’s beautiful—a commonality among Peter’s variants, it seems. 

He’s smirking, an infuriatingly charming smirk that lets you know he has no intention of listening to your demands for him to silence his quick wit. But you’re not focusing on that—no, you’re focusing on the features that had been hidden from you this whole time; his dark hair, tousled from removing his mask, falls in a chaotic halo around his face, contrasting the vibrance of his eyes. 

His eyes. 

They leave you breathless, and you hate it. Colored with the deepest cerulean you’ve ever seen, his eyes feel like staring into the depths of a crystalline ocean. You can almost feel yourself getting swept up in their tides, feel them enveloping you in a feeling of familiarity, as if this wasn’t the first time you had been pulled into their ebbing waters. 

“Have we–” your mouth has gone dry, your voice cracking. “Have we met before?” 

It’s a ridiculous question, and you recognize that even as it’s spilling from your lips. You couldn’t have met him before—not when the two of you weren’t even from the same universe! 

He seems to be thinking the same thing, and you’re already preparing to take the full force of whatever smartass comment he’s about to fling at you. “I’ve met you,” he says simply, taking you by surprise. Then he inclines his head towards your still-bleeding hand, “You should patch yourself up before you stain the carpet.” 

You look down at your hand, at the hem of your shirt, soaked in blood. 

“But just so I know,” you look back up, his body half-turned towards the door, his fingers resting against the knob, “if Peter and Parker are already taken, then who does that make me?” 

You have to force yourself to take a breath. “What did I call you in your world?” He’s silent for a moment, staring at the floor and chewing on his lip. Then, pushing the door to Parker’s room—their room—open, he smiles.

“Pete.”

a/n - ayyy, pete's finally here! and, ofc, lots of other little important details sprinkled around as well.

also, i really wanna say thank you to everyone who has been reading and enjoying this story so far! it truly means the world to me to read all of the nice comments and to know that you guys are interested in this story! so, again, thank you 💖 as always, please comment/like/reblog and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!

part four, titled "blooms of subterfuge", to be released april 29th

[pankowcrumbs]

Crush X multiple male actors (Requested)

MasterList

Everyone is crushing on the reader

Reader X Will Poulter, Joseph Quinn, Charles Melton, Kit Connor, Noah Centineo, Timothée chalamet, Chris Hemsworth ,Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, Andrew Garfield, Austin Butler, Tom Holland, Jacob Elordi, Paul Mescal.

Warfare

There are red carpets, and then there are Red Carpets.

Tonight was the latter. The premiere of Warfare, the newest blockbuster about gritty soldiers, impossible odds, and enough slow-motion action shots to make your head spin. It boasted a stacked cast, all of whom were gathered at the Odeon in Leicester Square looking painfully handsome in their tailored suits and cheeky grins. And then there was me, standing at the centre of the chaos, in a floor-length satin gown that made even the photographers pause.

I wasn't even in this movie I had just been invited to watch and show my support.

I’d barely taken three steps onto the carpet before I heard my name.

"Y/N!" someone shouted. "Over here!"

I turned, greeted by Will Poulter’s signature smirk as he swaggered over, hand in his pocket like he owned the place.

"You know," he said, leaning in conspiratorially, "I was going to play it cool, but then I saw you and forgot how to speak."

I laughed. "Well, you seem to have recovered quite quickly."

"Still not entirely sure I have," he quipped, then winked and walked off.

Before I could catch my breath, Joseph Quinn appeared, seemingly out of thin air. Dressed in an immaculately tailored black suit and looking like he’d just sauntered off a magazine cover.

"Is it just me," he said casually, "or is the air a bit thinner when you’re around?"

I rolled my eyes playfully. "You lot are worse than rom-coms."

"Right, but rom-coms are classics," he replied, grin spreading. "You can’t go wrong with a classic."

I was still smiling when Charles Melton slid in beside me, sipping champagne like he hadn’t just photobombed us.

"If you don’t let me take you to dinner," he said with a completely straight face, "my publicist says it’s career sabotage."

"Bold of them to assume I'd say yes," I teased.

"They’re very optimistic."

Then, Kit Connor. Sweet, boyish Kit, who looked like he’d just barely survived the walk down the carpet without combusting.

"Hi," he said, a bit breathless. "You’re, uh... brilliant. I mean, you always are. I...sorry, I’m rambling."

"Kit," I said, taking pity on him, "do you need a glass of water?"

"I need a new nervous system," he muttered, cheeks flaming.

And just when I thought I might escape into the venue unnoticed, Noah Centineo bounded over like a golden retriever in a tux.

"You’re here! I’m here! It’s fate. We should totally do something crazy. Like start a rumour or a band."

"A band?"

"Yeah, called 'Y/N and the Desperate Co-stars.'"

I couldn’t stop laughing. "You’re all absolutely insufferable."

"We try," Noah said with a mock bow.

As the guys mingled and good-naturedly teased each other over who had the best shot with me (which, apparently, was the main topic of conversation in every interview that night), I ducked into the theatre, cheeks aching from smiling.

Oscars

The Oscars. The pinnacle of Hollywood pomp, elegance, and just enough chaos to make it interesting.

As I walked past a line of press doing live interviews, I caught snippets of conversation.

"Y/N L/N just walked in," one host said breathlessly. "That dress... wow."

"She’s the reason I wore cologne tonight," said Timothée Chalamet, half-laughing, clearly not realising the camera was still rolling.

Behind him, Paul Mescal turned toward the camera with an amused smile. "That makes two of us. I’m not sitting next to him if he smells like desperation."

"Says the man who practised saying 'hi' in the mirror," Timothée shot back, grinning.

Inside, the room sparkled like a jewellery box. Chandeliers glittered above, cameras flashed, and champagne flowed like water. I slid into my seat at a circular table near the stage, only to be met by three stunned expressions.

Andrew Garfield, Rege-Jean Page, and Jacob Elordi.

"Oh wow," Andrew said, eyes widening. "They really just sat you here like that? Without a warning label?"

"I would’ve worn armour," Rege added, lifting his glass with a grin.

"Or at least taken a shot first," Jacob muttered.

I laughed, waving them off. "You three need to relax."

"Impossible," Andrew said, already pulling out my chair. "You’re like a walking plot twist."

Across the room, during another press segment, Austin Butler was being interviewed.

"So who are you hoping to run into tonight?" the interviewer asked.

"Honestly? Y/N L/N. I’d die happy if she just looked my way."

Back at the table, Tom Holland appeared out of nowhere, clearly eavesdropping.

"Don’t let Austin fool you," he said, sliding in with a mischievous grin. "He rehearsed that answer. Twice."

Jacob groaned. "Great. Now Spider-Man's here. As if we weren’t already outmatched."

"Speak for yourself," Rege said, straightening his tie.

I could barely keep a straight face as they gently ribbed each other, their egos only half-serious. It was a playfully chaotic energy, and I was dead centre in it.

And yet, through all the flirting, teasing, and harmless posturing, I couldn’t help but wonder what the next event would bring.

Because if this was the competition... the bar had been set pretty damn high.

Talk show

The Marvel cast on a talk show was always gold. You knew there would be jokes, ridiculous behind-the-scenes stories, and at least one moment that would go viral by morning.

This episode was no exception. Chris Hemsworth, Tom Hiddleston, Anthony Mackie, Sebastian Stan, Simu Liu, and Letitia Wright were all crammed on the couch, bantering like a group of siblings who'd had too much sugar.

The host grinned mischievously. "Now, quick question for the group. Who here has a celebrity crush?"

A beat. Then Chris Hemsworth said, deadpan, "We all do. It’s Y/N L/N."

The room exploded. Everyone started laughing, groaning, and throwing cushions at Chris.

"Way to out us all at once!" Simu said, burying his face in his hands.

Tom Hiddleston laughed softly, blushing. "She's incredibly talented. And kind. And... yeah. You walk into a room and she’s there, you forget what you were saying."

Letitia nudged Sebastian, who was unusually quiet.

"Go on," she teased. "Tell them."

Sebastian gave a lopsided grin, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, fine. I may or may not have a massive crush on Y/N."

Mackie clapped dramatically. "Finally! The Winter Simp speaks!"

Sebastian groaned, clearly regretting everything.

"She's just so... good. Not just talented, but warm. Funny. She makes everyone feel like they matter. And when she looks at you, it’s like you’re the only one in the room."

The studio audience awwwed, and Chris reached over to pat his shoulder. "Mate, that was dangerously close to poetry."

Sebastian shook his head with a sheepish laugh. "I’m doomed."

The host leaned in, grinning. "Well, Y/N, if you’re watching this... consider this your official Marvel fan club introduction."

[nyeddleblog]

Unrequited. [Part 1]

Pairing: Andrew! Peter Parker x Fem!Reader. Warnings: Felicia Hardy, a little suggestive, interrupted. Summary: You're Peter Parker's roommate and you're so done with the amount of women that come into your apartment.

Chapter 1: Thin Walls.

"Please, please, please" he begged, hips jerking upwards as she let her hips grind against his. His eyes were hazy, lingering on the way her arms stretched, wrapping around his shoulders, "I promise to make you feel good, baby. Please, I need to feel you."

She left a kiss on his jaw, then another on his cheek, and when she reached the edge of his lips, he let out a whine that would have made him embarrassed in any other situation. Right then, however, it just made her let out a breathy laugh against his mouth and he could feel his pants growing tighter. 

She was everything.

"You sure you want this, Peter?" 

He nodded mindlessly, he didn't really hear what she said, he would just agree to anything that woman asked if it meant being hers, and when she dropped to her knees, another whine left him.

She was being so sweet, softly pushing him against the bed, playing with his zipper, palming him through his jeans. Peter threw his head back, a lazy grin forming on his lips as she settled her eyes on his. He reached for a strand of her hair, and played with it. 

She left a chaste kiss on his hipbone, another on his lower stomach, and when he felt the sloppy kiss against the fabric of his boxers, he groaned.

Then he heard the loud thud on the wall, and finally recognized the presence of his roommate on the next room. He incorporated quickly, but Felicia was pulling on his boxers and he couldn't help the "Fuck" he whimpered at her touch.

"Peter, for fucks sake!" you yelled, and he bit his lips cringing, "Stop being a slut!"

Felicia looked up at him and she didn't seem annoyed, no, she looked absolutely angry. He licked his lips, ready to explain but she was already standing up and picking up the thin blouse he had taken the sweet time of unbuttoning.

"Sweetheart...!"

"Don't fucking 'sweetheart' me, Parker" she hissed, carefully clasping her stilettos, "You told me you lived alone!"

"I told you I was alone." he corrected her gently, zipping up his jeans as he tried to reach for her, "She wasn't supposed to be here, Felicia. Please"

"I'm sorry, darling, but I don't like having an audience."

She gracefully walked out of his room and guided herself around his apartment. Peter heard the dim laughter inside your room as he followed her, a laughter he could only pick up because of his heightened senses, and he was going to confront you about this.

"Honey, we can just be quieter..."

"I'm not a teenager to be playing around like this" Felicia took a hold of the doorknob and turned to look at him, "Maybe make up a code next time? Put a sock on your door or something, I don't give a shit."

And she left.

Peter turned to look at his roommate's door. He inhaled sharply.

He called for you.

He saw the doorknob move, then saw you peek your head out behind the wood and give him a small smile, "Yeah?"

"Was that necessary?"

"I mean," you took a good look at Peter, eyes scanning him up and down shamelessly. You would never admit it, but he looked delicious all hot and bothered, "It was to me."

"You say that like it happened often" he tried to argue, but you raised an eyebrow and leaned against the door frame, making him remember the other times. He sighed, "Okay, I can understand how that can be annoying..."

"You know, Peter..." Your voice was laced with a mix of amusement and irritation "There's a whole world out there full of people who don't involve me in their intimacy, yet I came to live with the only one who does, and not in the good way."

Peter ran a hand through his hair, feeling the blood run to his cheeks. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? It won't happen again, I don't even think she'd..."

You cut him off waving your hand, "You're something else, Parker" you said, shaking your head as your gaze softened, "Seriously though, knock it off. I'm not your personal filming crew, and, like she said, I'm definitely not your audience."

Peter opened his mouth to respond but you turned around, "Don't bother. I'm going to bed. And next time, maybe try a motel room? Or, better yet, invest in some self-control." NEXT PART.

[literaila]

Ok it's headcanon time what do you think Peter's reaction would be when him and his friend who've been bffs for years and are very comfortable with physical touch suddenly starts to pull away from him cause she saw him flirting with another girl at thier college mixer and so she starts to pull away from his physical touches cause she feel like she should finally be able to move on from him and start her college life without pining after him all the time and slowly peter starts noticing that she always give him affection when he needs it on his tough days but refuses his touch even when he remotely comes near her

🌌

just so you know

tasm!peter x fem!reader

a/n: sorry this took ages, i forgot how to write (there was a more perfect gif but tumblr hates me)

*

“what’s going on?”

you look up again, meeting uncertain eyes with a fake sense of amusement. you know what you’re doing, and so does peter.

“what?” you tease, running your hand over plastic price tags and years of dust, staring down at ceramic mugs and tiny scentless candles.

peter puts his hand on your back, walking with you, and as a subtle and graceful friend, you quickly move away from him, pretending to kneel down and look at a set of plates.

“that. this—this thing that your doing.” peter points to you like it’s a physical entity. some thing you’re holding just to hurt him. a handful of tricks.

“looking at cat mugs?” you ask, eyebrow raised.

“avoiding me. pretending like you haven’t been evading every question i’ve asked.”

you frown, but don’t look up. you finger a curved handle, swallow and let the lies slip from your mouth without any effort. if you’ve been distant from peter recently, it’s nothing but an accident. a practiced maneuver. “i’m not avoiding you.”

“you haven’t looked at me all day.”

“i’m looking at you right now, peter.” and so you do.

peter smiles, laughs a bit, his chest rising and falling, but it’s frustrated. he runs a hand through his hair, shakes his head. and then he bends down and wraps his hand around your arm, pulling you up before you get the chance to stop him.

and you would stop him, you know, if he hadn’t already pointed out that you’ve been doing it all day. for at least the past week.

his touch burns, like a singe on your already red wounds. and even though he’s smiling at you, being as gentle as peter always is, you can see your tension, can feel your own hesitation in his skin.

“did i hurt you, or something?” he asks, biting the inside of his cheek. “i know we—well, we’re not um, that hesitant with being close, touching and stuff, but if i did something accidentally—“

“you haven’t hurt me, peter.”

“okay… then what’s going on? do you need to discuss boundaries with me?”

“what?” you laugh.

“i’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,” peter says, softly, like you’re some breakable thing. “i just want to make sure that you—that we’re okay.”

“of course we’re okay, peter.”

and then, that’s not quite true.

when you look into peters eyes, it’s not an auburn storm that you see. it’s not even yourself being reflected in his irises.

it’s flashing lights and music that made your head pound. there’s sticky floors and too many people—so much air, and too much breathing in such a small room. you see people laughing and singing, hands and bodies intertwined like it would hurt to be apart.

and it’s all sort of beautiful and disturbing, all sort of a lot—but then, there’s familiar hands, running up an unfamiliar body. peter had asked you to dance, but you knew it was only so he could laugh because he knew that you couldn’t.

when you look into peters eyes you see her. and there’s such a strong fire ignited in your chest, such a vehement jealousy that you have to look away.

you have to physically pull yourself away from him just so you don’t feel like that. just so you can tell yourself that it’s not fair.

“we’re fine,” you repeat, softly, and you look away from him. turn away, so you can block yourself away from his all too knowing stare.

you don’t pull away from his hands, but god do you want to. you want to take a break from him, a break from all of this until you can promise yourself that you just don’t care.

that you don’t crave his side stepping and hand holding and resting your head on his shoulder or leaning against his chest. that isn’t fair.

you clear your throat; you can’t lie to him, and it’s not like peter is going to let you. “it’s just…” you start, stepping towards him and then away. “i don’t know if lindsay would be comfortable with it.”

peters face flinched, he tilts his head at you. “lindsay?”

“i don’t want to get in the way of anything…”

“get in the way of what?”

you meet his eyes and laugh. “c’mon, peter. you’re not as discreet as you think you are. there was that night at the club and then the “study” dates you’ve been going on.”

“that wasn’t anything—“ peter is quick to get out, but you shove his shoulder, pretending your laughter isn’t painful.

“save it, loverboy. if you want to hold someone’s hand,” you tease, “it should be your girlfriends. i was surprised you even asked me to come gift hunting today.”

peter swallows. “she’s not my girlfriend.”

you nod, turning away from him. “yeah, okay.”

“i’m serious. we’ve been working on a project for bio-chem, that’s all.”

“i’m not blind, peter.”

he walks when you do, leaning his head down until he can see your face. “don’t you think i’d tell you if started dating someone and it was serious?”

“um, no, not really. we don’t ever talk about that stuff.”

“yeah, because you get weird whenever i bring it up.”

“i don’t get weird—“ you say, turning to glare at him. he’s closer than you expected though so whatever you were about to say falls into the air. it blows away with the feel of peters breath on your cheek.

“i would tell you,” he says, “if i had a girlfriend.”

you lean away from him, taking a deep breath in. “okay, peter. but the point still stands. you shouldn’t be holding hands with me while you’ve got a girl who’s waiting for you to get your head out of your ass. or stop lying. whatever.”

“i don’t want to hold her hand.”

peters voice is soft, and his hand is gentle as it lands on your waist. he pulls you to him, like he’s sure that you’re going to run away.

“well now i know why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

peter chuckles, staring down at you with burning eyes. and this time, when you look at him, you see only a secret catching fire. “i don’t have a girlfriend because i want to hold your hand,” he whispers, a finger brushing up against your jaw.

“o-oh.”

you stare at him, unsure what else to say.

what other announcements need to be made, what other proclamations you should probably get in writing.

peter smiles again, wider. he lets go of you and turns so his shoulder is to you. and then he grabs your hand.

“just so you know,” he says, smirk far too much.

just so you know.

*

[welivefast-dieyoung]

Andrew Garfield might need to just, stop talking about how he feels about women altogether. Like me, personally, I might need really him to stop. Wtf does he mean 'it was like seeing this ball of life, this kind of life force, this vital i don’t know, primal energy on screen'. Like??? Idk what's worse that he said it, or that its a PERFECT description of how it feels to watch Flo on screen. I've actually genuinely had enough.

[fangirlfuel]

By the Glow of the Marquee

Actor: Andrew Garfield

Genre: Fluff, Meet-Cute,

Warnings: None (just heartwarming fluff)

Plot: A chance encounter with Andrew Garfield outside a small theater in London leads to a night filled with unexpected conversations, laughter, and the beginnings of something more.

---

The neon marquee cast a warm glow over the quiet London street, illuminating the drizzle that fell in soft, rhythmic drops. You pulled your coat tighter around you, standing under the theater’s awning as you checked your phone for the next bus. The play you’d just seen had left you smiling, but you couldn’t shake the disappointment of missing your ride home.

“Hell of a show, wasn’t it?”

The voice startled you, and you turned to find Andrew Garfield leaning casually against the wall, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. You blinked, certain your eyes were playing tricks on you.

“It was,” you managed to say, trying not to stare too obviously. “Really powerful.”

Andrew nodded, his face lighting up with a smile. “That ending, though. Gutted me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Me too. I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about it.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the sound of rain filling the silence. Then, as if realizing the oddness of the situation, Andrew straightened and extended a hand. “Sorry, where are my manners? I’m Andrew.”

You took his hand, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “I know. I mean, I’ve seen your movies. I’m [Y/N].”

“Nice to meet you, [Y/N],” he said warmly. “Waiting for someone?”

“No, just a bus,” you admitted with a shrug. “Missed the last one by about thirty seconds.”

“Well, that’s tragic,” he said, his tone playful. “Want some company while you wait? Unless, of course, you find random actors lurking outside theaters a bit unsettling.”

You laughed again, his charm disarming you completely. “I think I can manage.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly after that. You talked about the play, about the quirky little theater where it was performed, and eventually about life in general. Andrew was funny, self-deprecating, and so down-to-earth that you almost forgot he was a Hollywood star.

Time slipped by unnoticed, and when your bus finally arrived, you hesitated.

“I should probably…” You gestured toward the bus, reluctant to leave.

Andrew glanced at the bus, then back at you. “Or,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye, “you could let me buy you a coffee. There’s a great little café just down the street, and I think we’ve only scratched the surface of your opinions on theater.”

You raised an eyebrow, biting back a smile. “Bold of you to assume I’d say yes.”

He grinned. “I’m an optimist.”

Against all logic, you found yourself nodding. “Alright, Garfield. Lead the way.”

The night unfolded like something out of a movie. Over coffee and pastries, you and Andrew shared stories, laughter, and dreams. By the time you parted ways under the dim light of a streetlamp, he slipped a piece of paper into your hand.

“In case you ever want to talk theater again,” he said with a smile before walking away.

You unfolded the paper to find his number scrawled across it, along with a note: “Thanks for making tonight unforgettable.”

---

A/N

Life has a funny way of surprising us when we least expect it. Sometimes, a missed bus or a chance encounter can lead to a moment you’ll never forget. Stay open to the unexpected—you never know when your story might take a magical turn.

[backtothefanfiction]

It’s Always Been You | tasm!peter imagine

Warnings: small angst and hints at previous failed relationship, fluff, kissing

Word Count: Under 1k (once again just a quickie written directly in the app)

A/N: Saw a tiktok edit of Andrew Spidey in No Way Home and had this idea about when he gets back to his universe.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“I’m coming!” You call out cheerily as you pause the tv and climb off the sofa, making your way over to the front door of your shared apartment. “Pizza’s here!” You call out in the direction of your roommates door as you cross the space. But when you open up the door, it’s not the pizza guy who’s stood there.

You’re frozen for a second as Peter Parker stands flustered on your doorstep. No one’s seen or heard from him in over a week. When she had exhausted all other options, May had resorted to calling and asking you if you’d seen Peter, just on the off chance the two of you had gotten back together. Just the thought of him leaving and ghosting everyone, including May, made you feel a complete new anger towards Peter and feeling of sickness in your stomach.

Your mouth slowly opens to form words, but your body moves first, palms reaching up to hit at his chest, your body following his as he tries to take a step back from your onslaught. “Where the heck have you been!?! May has been worried sick.” You finally say between hits. Then you realise he’s at your door. He shouldn’t be at your door. He’d said he didn’t- no- couldn’t be around you anymore. Said it was too hard for him. You freeze again as you take a step back with realisation.

He can see your brain processing the conflicting actions and statements in your mind and before you can think on it too hard, he closes the gap between you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. His lips lock onto yours, short circuiting your brain further. You don’t know whether to kiss him back or push him away from you.

Your hands settle for relaxing and resting against his biceps as you break the kiss, the look of shock on your face conveying what words won’t. There’s a delay before you quickly say, “You just kissed me.”

“Yes.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Because I should have done it a long time ago.”

“But you said-“

“I know what I said. But some things have happened over the last couple days that just- well I’ll explain it better later- but I realised that, I can’t keep avoiding my feelings anymore. I can’t live my life in fear and spend my time only experiencing half of it. I know what I said-“ his voice falters as you finally push yourself out of his grip, needing your own space if you are going to listen to what he has to say. “And I know I hurt you.” He says as he looks at the expression on your face and the pain in your eyes. “But it’s you. After Gwen, it’s only ever been you and I’ll be damned if I have to just sit back and watch you build a life with some other guy that isn’t me and-“

You close the gap between you, your hands flying up to either side of his face as you reach on your tip toes to meet his mouth, cutting him off. His arms wrap tightly around your back, pulling you into him and you smile into his lips.

There’s the sound of footsteps inside your apartment as your roommate stands awkwardly watching the two of you begin to make out in the hallway. “I thought you said the pizza was here.”

You and Peter break apart, sharing a small snicker between one another, then his face falls as realisation dawns on him, his eyes growing wide. “Wait.. did you say I’d been gone for over a week!?”

[storiesforallfandoms]

another man in a red suit ~ spider-man x deadpool; marvel

word count: 3301

request?: no

description: in which the merc with the mouth meets the friendly neighborhood spider, and surprisingly, sparks fly

pairing: ryan reynolds!deadpool x andrew garfield!spiderman

warnings: swearing, lil angsty, mentions of death (mainly gwen and vanessa), wade being wade basically

masterlist (one, two, three)

Peter’s time in a different universe put a lot of things in perspective for him. Mainly that he needed to stop feeling guilty over Gwen’s death and trying exact some sort of vengeance on something or someone that didn’t exist. Helping the other Peters and getting to hear their own stories of the losses they went through made him realize it was time to move on and get back to doing what he did best: being a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

That’s why he had a police radio in his room again. He listened in for any small crimes happening; robberies, car chases, even a bar brawl once. He didn’t want to deal with any mask or cape type crimes just yet. He was still tryin to work his way back to the bigger stuff after Gwen, and his time with the other Peters. So far, though, there hadn’t been any reports of any spandex type crime happening.

The day that there finally was drew Peter’s attention.

He was pulling on his suit to pursue a bank robbery when the voice of a police officer came over the radio, “Boss, there’s a man in a red suit on the scene.”

Peter paused, his mask ready to be pulled over his face.

“Spider-Man?” came a hopeful response. Peter was surprised with how happy the police were to have him back on the streets.

“No,” came the voice of the first officer. “It’s someone else. Red and black suit instead of red and blue. He’s entering the bank.”

“One of the robbers?”

“Unsure.”

Peter didn’t realize he had been approaching the radio until he was stood right next to it, waiting with baited breath to hear more about this unknown masked assailant.

It couldn’t have been either of the Peters he already met, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a version of Spider-Man. No one else knew about the multiverse like Peter did, so he couldn’t just take the word of this officer that it wasn’t a Spider-Man.

Suddenly, the officer’s voice filled the room, calling, “Shots fired! Red suit is opening fire!”

Wasting no more time, Peter pulled on his mask and leapt from his bedroom window.

He was sailing over the city with such urgency that he made it to the bank in a matter of seconds. He could see the police cars parked in front of the bank, several police stood with their guns aimed at the bank. He wondered why they hadn’t entered the building after hearing the gun shots.

He dropped in front of the bank just in time for the doors to open and the hostages to rush out of the building.

“Is everyone okay?” Peter asked as they rushed past him. “Is anyone hurt? Where are the robbers?”

Instead of the hostages responding, the unknown masked man exited the bank, putting his guns back into his holsters. “Fear not, people of New York! I have taken care of your bank robbers! No need to thank me, but if you must, I take keys to the city as payment.”

His eyes landed on Peter. For some reason, Peter found himself standing up straighter under his gaze.

The whites of the unknown man’s mask’s eyes widened. “Whoa. Spider-Man. What an honor!”

“Uh...thanks?” Peter said.

“Which one are you? Maguire or Holland?”

“What?”

“Oh! I got it! The suit, it’s Garfield. I should’ve known, but Sony really fucked you over so can you blame me?”

“What are you talking about?” Peter asked. “Who are you?”

“They call me Deadpool. But you, tiger, can call me anytime.”

Peter was just more confused. He had never heard of a “Deadpool” before. The voice didn’t seem familiar either. All signs were pointing to this being a new hero...or maybe something else. Peter wasn’t sure if heroes tended to saunter into banks and shoot robbers dead before the policer could intervene.

But before anyone could further question this “Deadpool”, he took off. The police yelled at him to stop, but he kept going, ignoring their calls. It took Peter a second to realize, then he started to chase after him. Deadpool took a hard left, disappearing between a few buildings. When Peter turned to go after him, he had vanished.

What the hell was all of that?

~~~~~~

Fir the first few days after the bank robbery, Peter was constantly on the look out for Deadpool. He listened in on his police radio for more frequently, and he did extra patrols over the city in hopes of spotting the masked man. When all attempts came up null, he eventually gave up. He figured maybe this guy had been some wannabe hero who changed his mind after the bank robbery.

For the most part, Peter was able to forget about Deadpool. Until he walked into his apartment one evening to find a man sat at his desk, feet kicked up next to the police radio. He was in the red suit Peter had been looking for for weeks, except his mask was off this time, revealing a scarred face and head.

“You don’t do a good job with hiding this,” he said, nodding to the radio. “What do you tell people it’s for? True crime podcast?”

“What are you doing here?” Peter asked.

“Oh good, you’re not gonna do the whole pretending your not Spider-Man act.”

Peter winced, realizing his mistake.

Deadpool swung his legs off of Peter’s desk and stood. “Alright, let’s get to the formalities, but for real this time. My name is Wade Wilson, aka Deadpool. I’m from a different universe, which I know sounds crazy - ”

“No,” Peter cut him off. “Trust me, I know all about the multiverse.”

“Oh. Well then, that makes all of this easy.”

“How did you find me?” Peter asked. “How do you even know I’m Spider-Man?”

“We had a Spider-Man in my universe,” Wade explained. “He was killed in a fight with Kingpen’s men. They revealed his identity was a man named Peter Parker.”

“And you assumed that meant every Spider-Man is Peter Parker?”

“You know about the multiverse. Do you know any universes where Spider-Man isn’t Peter Parker?”

Okay, he had a point there. “Although Peter was sure there were others who donned the Spider-Man mask besides a Peter Parker, he had no proof of that to counter Wade’s argument.

“So, why did you come looking for me?” Peter asked.

Wade shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not every day you meet another man in a red suit. I thought, maybe, you’d want to team up. Be two men in red suits fighting crime and whatnot.”

“You don’t plan on going back to your own universe?”

Wade shrugged again, except his shoulders seemed to sag a bit more when they dropped down again. “Not really. I - uh - don’t have anything to go back to there.”

There was definitely something there. Peter wasn’t in any place to push Wade for an explanation. They were still basically strangers. But after his tryst through the multiverse, he wanted to know what would make someone not want to return to their home. Even he wanted to go back, and his life had still been in recovery from Gwen’s death at the time.

Instead of prying, though, Peter asked, “Won’t your doctor wizard guy send you back eventually?”

“Oh, I don’t have a doctor wizard guy. I mean, we do, but he’s a British detective who solves crimes with a hobbit. I got here with a time travel watch that I figured out how to use to travel universes, too. It’s all very macguffin.”

Peter crossed his arms. He had never had a partner before. He never really needed one. And it was evident that Wade operated differently in his superhero-ing than Peter did. But, at the same time, he had enjoyed being a team with the other Peters. It was lonely being Spider-Man sometimes.

Finally, he said, “Maybe we could...try working together. See how it goes.”

Wade clapped his hands and, quite literally, did a jump for joy. He rushed for Peter and threw his arms around the younger man. Peter felt his face light on fire when Wade’s lips touched his cheek, planting a big kiss on him.

“You won’t regret this,” Wade assured him.

“We’ll see,” Peter muttered.

~~~~~~

For the most part, their partnership wasn’t too bad of an idea. They had exchanged numbers so they could keep in touch. Peter said whenever he heard of something go on over his radio, he’d call or text Wade, but most times Wade also knew when it was happening. Peter found out very quickly that it was no use telling Wade not to deal with criminals his way - which usually involved guns and swords and death or near death - because he was going to do it anyways.

People were talking about the new team. A lot of back and forth on whether or not Deadpool was actually a hero. The Daily Bugle had already taken the story of a mouthy anti-hero whose idea of “justice” involved a lot of injury and/or death and twisted it to make Spider-Man look bad. It was the first time in ages that Peter had heard from Jameson wanting pictures of both Spider-Man and Deadpool. If Peter didn’t need the money, he probably would’ve told Jameson exactly where to go and how to get there.

On one quiet night, Peter was perched on top of a building, watching the city below him. He always loved doing this. There was something kind of peaceful about just watching the city come to life below him, hearing only a dull murmur of the hustle and bustle.

“You’re looking very Batman,” came the all too familiar voice of Peter’s new teammate. “Like you’re about to descend upon a clown and ask him where Rachel is.”

Peter rolled his eyes, although he knew Wade couldn’t see it. He was also glad that the mask hid his smile.

Peter had grown very fond of Wade. Not that he would ever tell Wade that; it might inflate his already inflated ego a bit too much. But Peter couldn’t lie and say he didn’t view Wade as a friend now, as someone who brought Peter genuine joy even when they were bickering while fighting crime. 

“Just taking a moment to admire the city,” Peter told Wade. “You don’t get this a lot in New York. Not when there’s always crime to be fought.”

Wade walked up to where Peter was sat and looked over at the city below. “Wow. Yeah, you’re right. This is beautiful.”

“Where did you live in your universe?” Peter asked. Even though they had been working together for some time now, Peter still didn’t know too much about Wade’s life before arriving in this universe.

“I’m from Canada originally,” Wade replied. “But I moved to the States after I was discharged from the military. A lot easier to be a mercenary in a place where people don’t say sorry when you bump into them.”

Peter’s head quickly moved to look at Wade. “You were a mercenary? Like a hitman?”

“Basically like that, yeah. Don’t give me that look, tarantula man. The only difference in being in the Forces and being a mercenary is that I got paid better and I didn’t get PTSD from being a mercenary. Besides, I didn’t always kill my victims. Leaving them intimidated did the job just as well.”

Peter couldn’t picture Wade as being intimidating. Wade talked too much, had too much of a sarcastic demeanor. Although, if someone is threatening your life, then anyone could be intimidating he guessed.

“Is that why you came here?” Peter asked. “Because the mercenary stuff didn’t work out?”

Wade tensed. Peter knew he had hit a nerve. He had refrained from asking about Wade’s previous comment about having nothing to go back to his own universe for. It seemed to be a sore subject, and if Wade wasn’t going to bring it up himself then Peter wasn’t going to push. He was only asking now because it felt like Wade was opening up enough to slowly approach the topic. But now Peter was regretting it.

“It’s something like that,” Wade said. His voice was suddenly very serious, something that Peter wasn’t used to from Wade.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Peter said. “It seems like something personal, I shouldn’t push or anything.”

Wade, who had been wearing his full suit as well, pulled off his mask so that Peter could see his face. It was very hard, serious. But upon looking a little closer, Peter could see that there were tears forming along Wade’s lash lines. Peter pulled off his mask as well, feeling as though the two of them were being vulnerable enough not to have the fabric between them right now.

“While in America,” Wade began, “working as a mercenary, I met this woman. Her name was Vanessa. She was a...lady of the night, to put it in Marvel’s PG terms. It started out as some fun for pay, but eventually we did fall in love. I asked her to marry me. I thought I was going to spend my whole life with her. Then I found out I had cancer, that I was dying, and I did something stupid that led me to become...well, this.” He gestured to his scarred face. “I thought she’d never love me again because I was so hideous. But I was wrong, and she did still want to be with me.”

Peter smiled. “She sounds like a great person.”

Wade nodded, the tears becoming more obvious. “She was...until I got her killed.”

Suddenly, everything fell into place for Peter. Wade didn’t need to tell him anything else, because he had already lived this story.

“I let a target get away because it was mine and Vanessa’s anniversary,” Wade continued anyways. “And I was already late. I killed all his other men and he locked himself in a panic room and I just couldn’t wait anymore. I let him go, just for him to find me and Vanessa and...and I couldn’t stop him before...”

Wade hung his head and his shoulders shook as he sobbed. Peter felt a stab of empathy for the older man. He knew exactly what this felt like; to lose the person you love more than anything and for it to be your own fault.

Peter reached over to put his hand on Wade’s. Wade jolted a little, as if he forgot that Peter was there. He lifted his head so that Peter could see his tearstained cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter said, his voice soft. “I know what it’s like. My girlfriend...I was the reason she died, too. It...it fucked me up for a very long time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Wade said. “Has it gotten any easier?”

Peter wanted to say yes, because he wanted to believe that himself. But the truth was, even though he had gotten back to his normal self for the most part, and even though Wade had been a perfect distraction, Peter still dreamed about Gwen. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her terrified face as she plummeted to her death. Every time he woke with a start and would lay awake for hours trying to forgive himself for what had happened.

So he answered honestly, “No. They say it will eventually, but I don’t think the pain ever completely goes away.”

Wade nodded, and mumbled a soft, “Yeah.” He seemed to be talking to himself more than Peter, though.

Peter looked down at their joined hands. He hadn’t realized that a comforting pat had turned into him holding Wade’s hand. It didn’t seem like Wade noticed either, or maybe he just didn’t mind. Peter’s face felt hot despite the cool New York air that was blowing against it. He wasn’t sure why the thought of holding Wade’s hand was making him feel a little embarrassed. Or maybe embarrassed wasn’t the right word. He didn’t actually feel embarrassed, but why else would he be blushing?

“You good over there, Spidey?”

Peter snapped out of his thoughts to look at Wade. “What? Yeah.”

Wade gave him a look. “You seem...deep in thought.”

“What? No! No, not at all. Just...no.”

Wade’s smug smile was back on his face. He pulled away from Peter, and Peter found himself a little disappointed when his hand was empty again.

“Well, I guess that’s enough emotion for tonight,” Wade said. “Thanks for letting me trauma dump. Therapies too expensive these days, and being a crime fighter doesn’t come with any sort of insurance.”

Peter swung his legs around to hop back onto the roof. “Yeah, anytime. And, if it helps any, I...I’ve been really enjoying your company.”

Wade turned to look at Peter. “Really?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t want to inflate your ego or anything, but it’s been nice to have a partner. You...you have helped me take my mind off of Gwen since we started working together.”

“You’ve helped me, too,” Wade admitted. “Honestly, until tonight, I haven’t thought about Vanessa as much. I mean, I still have dreams about her.”

Peter nodded. “Those don’t ever go away.”

“I figured they wouldn’t. But I have enjoyed this partnership. I think it’s been really beneficial for the both of us.”

“I do, too.”

The two of them fell silent, just standing there, facing one another. Peter wasn’t sure what the next step was here. What he did know was that it felt like he couldn’t move. He was paralyzed in place, just facing Wade. Wade seemed to almost be studying Peter for some reason.

Next thing Peter knew, Wade had his hands on Peter’s face and was pulling him in. His brain could hardly comprehend the action before he felt Wade’s lips on his.

Peter’s first reaction was to push Wade away, but his body reacted different. His lips moved to kiss Wade back instead, which shocked himself. Peter had only ever been with women before. Well, actually, he had only ever been with Gwen. He had never even entertained the idea of being with a man before. But there was something about kissing Wade that felt...right.

Wade pulled away first, which came as a shock to Peter.

“Sorry,” Wade said. “Got caught up in the moment there.”

“Oh, no. Don’t apologize. That’s...it was alright.”

“Yeah?” Peter nodded. “Jesus, I feel like a fucking high schooler again.”

Peter laughed. “Yeah, I feel that. I haven’t felt awkward like this since I was trying to ask out one of the cheerleaders at my school.”

“You asked out a cheerleader?”

“Tried. I wimped out and ran away like a total loser before I could even say her name.” Peter chuckled at the memory. “She would’ve said no anyways, so maybe the way I handled it was less humiliating.”

Wade chuckled as well. “Look, we’re both still going through some trauma. It may be a little too soon to try and find something else, but whenever you’re ready, I’d really like to take you to pound town.”

Peter screwed up his face. “That’s...romantic.”

“Hey, I’m just being honest. I’d like a relationship, but also I’ve seen your ass in those spandex and it’s made my pants a little tighter.”

Peter’s face was on fire again. It was enough to make Wade laugh. Peter quickly pulled his mask back on to hide himself.

“I think I’ve mostly handled my grief,” he told Wade. “But I understand needing time. I think, whenever you’re ready, I would like to see where this could go between us.”

Wade nodded. “That sounds like a deal to me.”

[uhhhj13iguess]

Could you write a Peter Parker story in witch reader has trauma from r4pe from past and while they were having a movie night a scene from movie triggered the memory of it, but Peter comforts them and it's just full of fluff? I would really appreciate it.

sorry this took so long, i rewrote it like a million times lol. thank you for writing me a request, i loved it! everyone please send more!!

let me be near you

peter parker x gn!reader

wc: 0.9k

cw: references to SA scene playing out on tv, reader has flashbacks and a panic attack, but nothing is talked about in detail. peter is a sweetheart the entire time

masterlist and taglist!

peter immediately felt your energy shift.

he looked down to see you staring into the distance, eyes wondering and watery. he noticed as you shrank smaller, hands pulled to your chest as you unconsciously picked at your nail beds, the skin raw and bloody from the action.

he reached out for your hands without a second thought. "hey,"

you twitched slightly, his touch bringing you back to the present as you looked up at him, staccato inhales raking your chest.

peter had never seen you like this. his heart broke as your eyes darted off again, your body stiffening as you forced yourself to look back at the screen. you couldn't do this right now, not in front of peter.

as the scene played out, a heavy sense of dread blanketed your senses, a suffocating weight on your chest as you couldn't stop your mind from wandering. you pleaded, downright bargaining with your brain as the flashbacks forced their way to the forefront, violent images flooding your thoughts. you squeezed your eyes shut tightly, doing what you could to steady your breathing.

peter brushed his thumb over the back of your hand. "hey, are you alright?"

you nodded quickly, wanting nothing more than to disappear and not embarrass yourself further. you stared back at the TV, jaw clenched tight, "yeah, fine."

just be normal.

you're right here. it's just a show. you're safe.

you flinched as peter spoke your name, your vision beginning to tunnel. you felt your heart rate pick up, increasing exponentially until you were convinced it was going to burst out of your chest. you stood quickly, the action dropping your stomach and sending a wave of impending doom throughout your entire body. your knees buckled, and peter's hands flew up to stabilize you.

"'m fine," you slurred out. with shaky steps, you gathered all your strength to head down the hall, incoherently mumbling about 'needing to go to the bathroom quick'. peter watched you run out of sight and a rock formed in his stomach.

as he stood to follow you, a scream from the TV caught his attention.

"no, please! stop!" the woman's voice burned in his ears. he turned towards the criminal minds episode on the screen.

peter watched intently as the scene played out before him. with each act of violence, each scream, he slowly put the pieces together, and a range of emotions flooded his system.

he was horrified. when you'd been flipping through channels earlier with him, neither of you expected this would be what would come on. he felt uneasy himself, but your response was different. it was reactionary, visceral in nature. and as he put together why, he felt scared like he'd never been before.

he was heartbroken, the thought of you having been hurt so badly. the pain in his chest was physical as he watched the assault unfold on the screen and pictured you. how scared you must have felt. how hurt you must have been.

he was angrier than he'd ever been before. peter saw red as he thought about it, yearning for blood on his hands from whoever had done this to you. he hadn't felt this way since uncle ben.

peter shook himself out of it, hearing the bathroom door shut. he bounded down the hall and called out your name, a crack in his voice as he choked down a sob. he reached the door, softly knocking against the wood.

"sweetheart? can i come in?" peter was met with sniffles, and the pain in his chest radiated.

"honey, please. we don't have to talk, just... please. let me be near you," he pleaded.

on the other side, you let out a heavy sigh, crawling out from the ball you'd formed on the bathroom floor. standing with all your strength, you didn't dare look at yourself in the mirror as you reached for the handle. you pulled slowly, meeting peter's gaze with a pit of shame in your stomach.

his shoulders relaxed as soon as he had you in his sight again. "hey, honey."

you looked down at your feet. "i'm sorry, that was a lot over nothing."

peter took a step towards you, a cautious hand reaching out to graze your arm. "hey,"

you looked up to meet his eyes again. "none of that."

you took a deep breath, your nervous system beginning to slow down again in peter's presence. you slowly moved forward and looped your arms around his waist loosely, a limp hug all you had in you as a response. he reciprocated it immediately.

"do you want to talk about it?"

you shook your head against his chest. "not right now."

peter nodded and pulled back from the hug, a hand slipping down to intertwine his fingers with yours. "why don't we go lie in bed, bug?"

you whispered out a soft 'okay' as you followed him to the bedroom, climbing into the bed and clinging to peter's side tightly. he wrapped you in his arms, peppering your face in light kisses that tickled your skin. he felt himself relax as he heard your soft laugh, and he vowed to himself he'd do anything it took to keep you safe and happy.

[forever-rogue]

i saw you wanted tasm Peter requests and I’m here to provide! 😭✨💕

how about a fake dating-ish meet cute where you feel scared walking home bc of some sketchy looking people following you and you grab Peter’s (who lives in the same building as you) hand and ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend and he readily goes along with it bc he’s always had a crush on you. I just think he would be so sweet and worried later when you get home bc you’d looked super scared

AN | No but I love this idea!! It’s sort of a meet-cute!❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings | mild language

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You weren't drunk.

Not drunk-drunk anyway but mildly tipsy. Or wholly tipsy if you were being completely honest with yourself. 

Anyways, that wasn't the problem, at least not entirely. Walking home through New York, late at night and tipsy by yourself, a young woman on her own, probably wasn't the best idea. But the party had dragged on and on and your friends had already left with their…friends for the night, and you were tired, hungry, and bored.

So you decided to walk home. You somehow managed to convince yourself that brisk evening stroll would make you feel better. You hadn't been wrong for the most part but as once you got closer to your apartment building, an uneasy feeling started settling into your stomach. 

You looked around, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, but you could see that there were two guys that seemed to be watching you. You ignored it for a bit, but when you noticed that they seemed to cross every street that you could, and turned all the same corners, you grew worried. 

Trying to keep the panic at bay and act normal proved to be difficult. You thought for a moment that you might have been paranoid or overreacting but you'd seen enough true crime documents to know that it was better to be safe than sorry.

Your salvation came in the form of the man that lived in the apartment across from you. 

You vaguely knew him and were almost positive his name was Peter Parker. You just hoped right now that he'd help. 

Speeding up, you caught up to him a few moments, quickly reaching for his arm and stepping in front of him. 

“Hi, hi,” your eyes were wide and he immediately grew concerned, “I know we don't really know each but we live in the same building, you're actually across the hall from me. I - this is - can you please pretend to be my boyfriend? Just for a little bit? There's these two guys that have been following me for a while now and I'm-”

“It’s okay,” he whispered, gently cutting you off as he instinctively reached for your hand. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted as you laced your fingers through his and fell into step with him, “I'll take care of you.”

You squeezed his arm, “thank you.”

He nodded and turned around a corner to see the men you were referring to. When he spotted the duo that you had to be talking about, he shot them a warning glare. At a few moments, he could see realization cross their features before they seemingly altered their path.

He made sure to keep an eye out on the rest of the way back to the building. Luckily he didn't see them again. He hoped that they hadn't decided to go and find someone else. 

It felt like you could breathe again as you pulled your hand from his and turned to face him. You were taken aback for a moment by how beautiful he was. Sure, you'd been him around the building plenty of times before but you'd never gotten to look at him this closely. 

“Thank you,” your voice was soft - gentle - was you offered him a small smile, “I thought that maybe I was going crazy for a bit and then I kept seeing them. I just didn't want anything to happen. Thank you for probably saving me from them. It's, sorry, you're Peter, right?”

“I am,” he nodded as you offered him your hand for a proper shake and introduction. He said your name and you looked at him in surprise, “we've been neighbors a while and I just…caught it sometime. I'm glad I found you too. Are you sure you're okay?”

“I'm cold, hungry, and slightly buzzed but I'm alright,” you promised, “thanks to you. I swear I owe you big time.”

“You don't owe me anything,” he insisted as he started to shrug off his zip-up sweater. He'd noticed the dress you were wearing and wondered if you'd been cold. He held it out to you, causing you to look at him with sweet eyes, “take it. I don't want you to be cold.”

You already knew better than to argue with him so you gratefully it took and slipped it on, immediately overwhelmed by his delicious scent, “thank you, Peter.”

“Do you want to get something to eat?” He wasn't entirely sure if he'd meant to ask, but it just sort of blurted out, “I-I was thinking about ordering some pizza.”

Liar. He was a damned dirty liar. He hadn't thought about pizza but he also hadn't wanted to let you just leave to go to your apartment. Not now, not yet.

“Yeah?” Your face lit up and he nodded shyly. He'd order the whole pizzeria if you wanted just from that smile alone, “that sounds good.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Realistically, you probably shouldn't have just trusted Peter so readily, especially since you'd just had the run-in with the creeps on your walk home. But there was something about Peter that told you that he was trustworthy. 

So you didn't hesitate to follow him up the stairs to the floor where both of your apartments were. You stopped instinctively at your door and Peter paused for a moment.

“Listen, I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything,” you appreciated the fact that he seemed to be able to read your mind, “do you want to meet on the fire escape once the pizza's here?”

“Yeah,” you nodded softly, “I'll see you in a little bit.”

“Sounds good,” he started to open his door but quickly turned around, “wait! I didn't even ask you what kind of pizza you like.”

Your laugh was pretty as you turned and gave him your requests. He offered you a small salute before both of you went into your respective apartments. You closed the door gently and leaned against it, letting out a small sigh.

This evening had definitely taken a turn that you hadn't been expecting. But somehow, it turned out a lot better than you had imagined. Plus, you finally got to really meet and speak to the cute boy next door. He'd caught your eye from the moment he'd moved into the building, but you'd never quite managed to work up the courage to say anything besides the neighborly hello here and there. And now…now you were wearing his sweater and going to have pizza with him.

You almost danced to your bedroom and spent entirely too much time trying to pick out something comfortable but cute. You wanted to be warm and cozy but didn't want to look like you were trying too hard.

You ended up settling on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, but pulled Peter's sweater back on. You wanted to hang onto it for as long as possible. You managed to slide on your slippers as you heard a knock on your door.

“Pull yourself together,” you hissed at your reflection, “and act normal…somewhat normal.”

Slowing your walk to the door, you opened it in an attempt to look casual. Peter had the same idea and had changed into a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. You almost choked on your spit at the sight. What a bastard.

“Ready for some pizza?” You nodded as you followed him towards the fire escape at the end of the hall. He slid open the window and stepped out, offering you his hand to help you. You didn't hesitate to take his hand, trying not think too much about his large his hand was compared to yours, “nice sweater by the way.”

“You better watch it or I'm going to steal it forever,” Peter really liked the sound of your laugh. He wanted to bottle it up and keep it with him forever. 

“Keep it,” he insisted sweetly, “looks better on you anyway.”

“Stop,” you groaned as you sat down, gently pushing his side, “that's how you get a girl to call in love with you.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow as his cheeks pinked, “is it working then?”

He didn't know why he felt so bold or what had gotten into him but he was feeling something. Maybe it was just your magnetic presence but there was something about you that made him feel so warm and comfortable.

“Peter,” you weren't about to admit that the answer was yes so you just scoffed and rolled your eyes playfully, “I should have said makes all other girls fall in love.”

“Mhmm,” he opened the pizza box and nudged angled it towards you, “dig in. I hope you like it because it's from one of my favorite places.”

“It better be good then or I'm afraid I'll never speak to you again,” you teased, grabbing a slice and taking a big bite. Peter watched you with an amused as you quickly realized that this was indeed delicious pizza. You quickly finished the rest of the slice before offering him a nod, “alright you've passed this test. The pizza is delicious.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“It's getting pretty late,” you said softly as you looked at the softly glowing screen of your phone. It was a lot later than you had realized; the two of you had ended up talking for hours, the pizza all but gone, “we should probably head inside.”

“Yeah,” he agreed reluctantly, “you're right.”

“I had a good time though,” you promised as he nodded shyly, “thanks for saving me tonight…and all of this. It's times like this that remind me that not all people are terrible.”

“It's no problem,” he insisted, “I'm glad I was there when you needed me. I had a good time tonight, regardless of how we got here.”

“Me too,” you offered his shoulder a squeeze before heading back inside and waiting for him to do the same, “I'll see you around, Peter.”

“See you around,” the two of you went into your respective apartments and you quietly shut the door, trying to hold in your sounds of excitement. Your night had taken a complete 180 but you weren't complaining. You'd been wanting to meet the boy for the last couple of years and now that you'd gotten to spend some time with him, you only wanted more.

The question then was - how do you spend more time with Peter Parker without making it obvious you might have fallen in love with him?

You’d figured that out sometime later. Right now you were going to soak all of the good feelings you had into your body as you went to bed.

Little did you know that just across the hall, Peter was doing the exact thing. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You tried to run into Peter after that evening whenever you could. You would slowly leave for work in the morning and then take your sweet time coming home in the hopes that you would run into him somewhere in the building. But over the next couple of weeks, you managed to have no luck. It suddenly seemed like he had an opposite schedule of yours. For a moment you wondered if it was on purpose, but you knew that he wouldn’t do that.

Peter was hoping for the same thing; work and his…extracurricular activities kept him busier than ever. He had to be at the lab early in the mornings and often wasn’t coming home till the midnights hours. There were a few times when he’d contemplated knocking on your door, even if he just got to see your pretty face for a few moments. But he didn’t want to disturb you so he kept on waiting for the right moment to see you again. 

It turned out that the right moment happened to be when you were getting ready to go out with some friends one evening and Peter was coming home, looking run down and tired. His face and entire being lit up at the sight of you. Your heart was beating so fast that you were sure that he would be able to hear it (unbeknownst to you, he definitely heard it) or it would burst out of your chest. 

“Hey-”

“Hi-” the two of you spoke at the same time before looking at each other sheepishly. You felt like your entire face was on fire as you looked at your feet for a moment to study your nerves, “hey Peter. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I know,” he tried to contain his excitement when he realized that you had been missing him as well, “I can’t believe our luck. For years we saw each other all the time and now…nothing. Kind of feels like the universe is laughing at us.”

“I thought about coming over,” you admittedly sheepishly, “but I didn’t want to bug you. I wasn’t sure how you late you were working or…yeah.”

“I thought about the same thing,” he confessed as you grinned at him, “but I’ve been working longer hours so I’d get home late and didn’t want to bother you.”

“You wouldn’t have been a bother,” you shrugged it off, trying to make it seem like no big deal when in fact it was a huge deal.

“Good to know,” he huffed a small laugh before clearing his throat, “I should, ugh, let you go. I don’t want to keep you from your date or whatever plans you have.”

“It’s not a date,” you said quickly, wanting to shut that train of thinking down right away, “I was just going to meet a few friends for dinner and drinks.”

“Cool,” he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved to hear that, “I hope you have fun.”

“Unless you’re not busy and want to get dinner,” you only had a bit of courage left as you got the words, wondering how he’d react, “like together I mean.”

“I’m not busy, I’m free,” his stomach felt like it was doing backflips, “but are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll just text my friends,” you waved your hand dismissively as you pulled out your phone, “they won’t mind. Trust me.”

They really wouldn’t. They’d been hoping and rooting for you to get with the pretty boy next door for some time now. 

“Cool,” that was an understatement, “let me just go and change and then we can go. I’ll come to yours in a few minutes.

“Okay,” you breathed nervously, unable to hide the smile on your face.

“Okay,” he agreed softly, his eyes and smile big and pretty, “luckily this time it’ll only be a few minutes and not weeks.”

“It was too long.”

“Definitely.”

[babyflorencee]

P.s I love you

Peter Parker x fem!Reader

It was around midnight and I was sitting down at my desk, trying to complete my English paper that's due in the morning. I was finishing up the 3rd paragraph when I heard the sound of light tapping noises on my window. Knowing it was most likely my boyfriend Peter, I got up and walked over to the window, opening it for him.

When I pulled back the drapes, a light gasp escaped my mouth at the sight that was in-front of me. Peter was in his spiderman suit, which was littered with rips and stains. He had a black eye, a busted lip, and his entire body was stained with what I believe, and in the back of my mind, what I hoped, was his own blood.

I quickly unlocked the window, helping him in. "What the hell happened to you?" I whisper shouted.

He lifted his right leg over, stumbling into my room. I quickly grabbed onto his arm, trying to help him stabilize. I dragged him over to my bed, kneeling down in front of his legs, to examine his current state.

He had his head down, trying to not make eye contact with me. I let out a huff of annoyance as I got up from my kneeling position, "Wait here," I said, leaving my room so I could get some supplies.

Once I came back, he was sitting down on my bed, with the top of his suit off, revealing his toned abs. I walked over towards him, crouching down, giving him my best disappointed look. "Look—" He started, but I cut him off.

"I don't want to hear it."

Was that a little harsh? Yes, yes, it was.

But in my defense, he promised me that he'd take a break from fighting today, since he was already badly injured from a fight he had lost a few days ago. It hasn't even been 4 hours and he has already broken his promise.

Once I finished cleaning the blood off his face and chest, I left the room once again to dump out the blood-soaked water and to wash my hands. "Y/n, please don't be mad at me," Peter said, giving me his puppy dog eyes.

I ignored him, walking over to my dresser, pulling out a pair of basketball shorts and an oversized t-shirt, which originally belong to Peter. I tossed it at him, sitting down at my desk so I could finish my essay.

A couple minutes go by and I hear him shuffling around. I assume, so he could change out of his suit. "Y/n—" He whined, hugging me from behind, and sticking his head into my neck.

"What?" I replied, harshly.

He spun my chair around so I was facing him. "I'm sorry," he said, taking my face into his hands and pressing a light kiss to my lips.

"Please forgive me?"

"Fine, but you better not show up at my window tomorrow all bloody," I said, pointing my index finger at him and giving him a jokingly stern look.

"yes ma'am," he laughed, pressing another kiss to my lips.

"Can we cuddle now?" He opened his arms wide, giving me a goofy smile.

I laughed at his expression. "I got to finish this." I said, showing him my computer.

"I'll do it for you if we can cuddle right now." He offered, raising an eyebrow.

"Fine," I gave in, knowing that if he did my assignment, I would most likely get a higher grade on the paper than I would if I did it.

I stood up from my chair to be immediately thrown over his shoulder. He walked over towards my bed, throwing me harshly on it before he got in as well, laying down on top of me and burying his head into the crook of my neck, his hair tickling me a little. "Good night Petey," I said.

He took his head out of my neck, giving me a disgusted look, making me laugh once again at his face expression. "Night," He mumbled, falling asleep on me.

*** The next morning, I woke up to be greeted by an empty bed. I groaned, sitting up as I looked at the clock. A small gasp escaped my lips when I realized that I was about to be late for school. I got up, sloppily putting on my outfit, before walking over towards my desk, praying that Peter hadn't forgotten to do the assignment. I scrolled down, feeling my heart flutter at what he had written. Not only did he finish my paper, but he also wrote a brief note at the bottom.

'Sorry, I had to leave. I didn't want to deal with Aunt May. Meet me under the bleacher at lunch. PS. I love you.'