#pater parker

[spider-man-archive]

Collection of stamps used to link to affiliate fan sites found in the doc ock fanlisting site. Not all sites are properly archived but still linked in order with some notes about the site.

doctoressoctopus

Not much left here.

tentacles.alekwasframed

Not as baren, but most of the links here don't seem to work anymore. Will dig into this more and see if anything comes up (curious of the fanfiction.net link)

saviour

Not a lot here but seems to be intact.

poetry

Homepage is just some text, but other pages have a few stamps and image edits. Will share in a seperate post.

spiderman

Claims to be the only approved Spider-man 2 fanlisting (as of August 2004 anyways). Text is a little mangeled and all images are unavailable.

spideygoblin

Some decor images are still intact here!

tangledweb

Not too much here, but features a cool homepage image.

HERO

Neat layout. Some images are no longer available.

Otherside

Seems to be more of a personal site. No images are available anymore.

Mary Jane Watson

All images seem to be dead once again.

Chemistry

Nothing to say other then the cool image of Kirsten and Tobey.

Mixed Emotions

Nothing but a image for the site.

Adorable

Nothing left here.

Just Like A Mother

Not much here.

Arachnophonia

Also not much here.

Avenge Me!

Some more cool images used as layout.

TANGLED WEB

Not much here save for the homepage image.

-

Thats it for this particular collection of fanlistings, I will upload individual images found on each site in the near future.

[cumulo-stratus]

Taglist!!

guess who’s doing a taglist!! if you could take the time pls pls pls fill out the form below bc it helps make things so much easier for both of us!

(credit to @strawbeerossi for being the bestest at helping me w/ this!)

[destinyandfandoms]

For some reason no matter how many times I watch into the spider verse I keep thinking that during the montages of Peter B Parker getting a divorce and his life going to shit one of the scenes is him taking a selfie during the paper signing and I refuse to accept that it didn't happen

[iamheretemporarly]

A Spider-Man 2099 AU where Miguel is haunted by Peter Parker’s ghost

I am eepy, I will elaborate on this when I elaborate on it

[qcomicsy]

the fact that Peter knows what a dating sim is very telling too

Gwen Poole has canonically played Monster Girl Quest

[spacewhalesrock]

“You won’t come after me, Tony, do you understand?” she said, sitting up and racking the rifle. “I need us to be clear on this. I’ll be shooting to kill. If you pop up in my line of sight at the wrong moment...” She glanced at Peter, waiting back by the tree line. “You don’t want him walking away from this alone. So no dumb heroics.” That struck a chord, but it still didn’t have him convinced. “And if you need help?” She patted the rifle. “That's all the help I'll need.” And if that wasn’t enough, she had backups. She’d fashioned two garrotes out of guitar strings, and there was always the nail bomb. She’d made it back in the bunker and carried it all this way. It’d be a last resort, but a brutally effective one. “Just FYI,” Tony said. “I’m not condoning this.”

4 Strong, Chapter 20

[erinwantstowrite]

How is Bruce dealing with technical grandpa status?

he doesn't like the idea of being old enough to have a grandkid, but he does enjoy having a grandkid to spoil. in this au he's just "died" and come back to see that life moved on without him (his kids are growing up) and he's trying to prepare himself while also making up for mistakes and getting some actual character growth (dc is allergic to character growth but i am not)

[flightlessangelwings]

FawKtober2024 Part 3- Tasm!Peter Parker

Tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Kinks- romantic sex, pegging, cunnilingus

Word count- 1723

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), anal (m receiving), soft sex, oral (f receiving), romance, established relationship, strap/dildo, fluff, light slapping, playfulness, pet names, no physical description of reader other than body parts, no use of y/n

Notes- Honestly, I can't believe I haven't written a pegging Peter fic yet lol so why not use kinkotber this year to fix that! Peter is always so fun to write and I"m really happy with how this turned out! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post!

~

“I like this view, Peter,” you smirked from behind him as you tightened the harness on your hip.

Peter wiggled his hips from where he sat perched in front of you on his hands and knees, “I bet you do, sweetheart,” he turned to look over his shoulder and gave you a wink and a sly smile.

Your face lit up as you laughed with him while you ran your hand across his ass, “You ready, baby?” you purred as you gave him a squeeze.

He swallowed hard as his eyes trailed down your figure to the strap that sat comfortably nestled on your hips. Licking his lips eagerly, Peter nodded, “Ready,” he breathed.

Without warming, you reeled your hand back and landed a slap on his ass, making him yelp in surprise. It quickly turned into a moan as you slapped him again and grabbed his cheek hard, kneading it under your palm, “You like that, Pete?” your tone dropped as you poked your finger at his entrance.

“Yeah,” he whispered as he dropped his head down onto the mattress, burying his face in the blankets and leaving his hips up in the air for you.

“Good boy,” you murmured as you sat mesmerized by him. Lazily, you pushed a finger into Peter, and your pussy clenched as he let out a low moan. “You wore the plug like I asked you to,” you commented, noticing how easily your finger pushed past his muscles, “Good boy,” you repeated your praise as you thrust your finger in deeper.

“Mmmm,” Peter moaned as he lost himself in your touch, “All ready for you, babe,” he quipped once he was able to form an actual thought.

You pulled your finger out and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his ass where you slapped it. While you nibbled on his sensitive skin, you reached to where you placed the bottle of lube and thoroughly coated your strap with it before tossing it aside.

“Relax, Peter,” you cooed, “I’ve got you today,” you murmured words of encouragement as you lined yourself up with his entrance.

Peter groaned your name as he left the stretch of the tip of your strap slowly pushed into him. “Fuck!” he cried out as he felt the thickness inside of him, even thicker than the plug he kept in him to prepare for you tonight.

“Feeling good, Pete?” you asked in a soothing voice as you ran your hands up and down his spine, devouring the goosebumps that erupted all along his back.

“So fuckin’ good,” he couldn’t help the sultry tone as he pushed his hips back to meet your body.

“Fuck, Peter,” you groaned as you watched the rest of the strap disappear inside him. 

“Sweetheart,” he mumbled in between incoherent babbling, “Please move.”

You let out an obscene sound from deep in your chest at the way he begged for you. And you couldn’t deny him whatever he wanted. Rocking your hips back, you heard a squelch as the strap reappeared, only to disappear again when you thrust forward. Both of you moaned as you started a slow and steady rhythm, rocking into him over and over again like how he did with you.

Grabbing his hips, you couldn’t help but pick up your pace. Encouraged by his moans and string of curses under his breath, you thrust a little harder, testing to see his reaction.

“Feels so good,” Peter muttered as sweat made his hair stick to his forehead.

“You’re taking me so good, Pete,” you murmured praise as you leaned forward and placed a trail of kisses along his spine where your fingers just touched.

“You’re fucking me so good, sweetheart.”

With those words, you thrust yourself as far forward as you could, burying your strap as deep as possible inside Peter. You wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him close as you savored the moment. And Peter released his grip on the blankets to hold onto your hand in response, giving it a tight squeeze. 

“I love you,” Peter whispered.

You smiled against his body as you placed another soft kiss, “I love you too, Peter.”

Letting go of his hand, you started your thrusts again, this time with more determination. You were faster, harder, and your hand snaked down his stomach to wrap around his cock. Peter cried out loudly as you suddenly moved faster, almost overwhelming him with how good you felt. 

“Fuck! Sweetheart!” he screamed as his body burned with desire, “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Let me see how beautiful you are when you cum, Pete,” you huffed as you started to feel your muscles burn with how much your hips thrust back and forth. 

Pumping his cock in time with your thrusts as best as you could, you could tell he was close. The way he moaned and groaned and murmured your name over and over told you he was about to go over the edge. And you would be there to catch him this time. 

“That’s it, Peter,” you cooed, “You’re taking me so good.”

All he could do was babble incoherently as his arms and legs started to tremble as pure bliss coursed through his veins. Your words of encouragement were all he needed for his climax to take over his body and with a loud cry of your name, Peter came hard. Tears filled his eyes as the emotions overwhelmed him in the best way possible.

You continued to stroke his cock and thrust your strap into him over and over again as every moan and whimper went right to your cunt. You felt his release splash your hand as you kept going, pulling every drop of his orgasm as you could from his body. Peter’s cries of pleasure filled the room as you rode out his orgasm until he collapsed down flat in front of you.

“Peter!” you gasped as your dildo slid out of him with ease from how wet it was. But, you ignored it and rushed forward to cover his body with yours, placing kisses all across his freckled shoulders, “You alright, baby?” you asked.

He hummed as a silly smile lit up his face while he rolled onto his side, “Never better,” he beamed, “You’re so good at this, babe,” he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close.

“I try,” you smiled back at him, “I learned from the best,” you winked back at him as you both erupted into giggles in between kisses.

Peter turned more serious after a few moments as he gently pushed your shoulder and guided you onto your back, “Let me return the favor, sweetheart,” his tone dropped as he shimmied his way down your body, kissing every inch of your skin on his way down.

“Pete…” you moaned as he reached your hips, tucking his fingers under the harness of your strap as he coaxed it off your body.

It was a sensual moment as you lifted your hips up for him, neither of you breaking eye contact as he slid the strap down your legs like he did with your panties so many times before. Peter only broke away to look down at the soaked dildo as he took it into his hands, giving it a quick kiss at the tip before he tossed it aside. Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched the gesture before he knelt down and stilted between your parted legs.

“Beautiful,” he murmured in awe as he stared at your dripping pussy before he dove in.

You screamed as his lips made contact with yours and Peter immediately devoured you like a man starved. Your hands clenched onto the blankets as his tongue swirled around your pussy, tasting you greedily.

“Fuck! Peter!” you cried out as tears already formed in your eyes.

He hummed into you, too engrossed in your body to break away even to tell you how beautiful and delicious you were. Peter held onto your hips, holding you still enough so he wouldn’t miss a spot while still letting your hips grind against his face. The room felt like a sauna from the heat that built up from the passion between you and Peter.

Tears of his own filled the corners of Peter’s eyes as he devoured you desperately. It gave him just as much pleasure to ravage you as when you fucked him. His own hips bucked against the mattress as his tongue ran up and down your folds. A moan of his own escaped his lips as he wrapped them around your clit and sucked hard.

“Pete…” you whimpered as your mind swam in pleasure.

Peter hummed again, determined to make you cum even harder than he did. His tongue worked your clit expertly, knowing exactly what spots drove you wild with ecstasy. And the louder you screamed, the more he knew you were close.

Your hand flew to his hair, tugging hard as you panted, “I’m gonna cum… Pete…” you breathed before you screamed loudly as your release took you over. With your arms and legs trembling, you came into his mouth, gushing with your orgasm while Peter continued to lick and suck at your pussy.

When you whined from the overwhelming emotions and sensation, Peter finally broke away. He breathed heavily, his chin dripping as he stared at you while you laid sprawled out with your eyes closed. He could almost feel the emotions in the air, could almost physically see them in front of him as he watched you come down from your high.

“I love you, sweetheart,” Peter blurted out before he lunged forward and kissed you deeply as he laid out on top of you.

You moaned into the kiss, immediately wrapped your arms around him to hold him as close as you possibly could, “I,” you kissed him again, “Love you too,” you broke away for a breath before he kissed you again, “Peter Parker.”

Peter smiled into your kisses as he rolled to his side, keeping you wrapped up in his arms. Together, the two of you tangled up in a knot that neither of you wanted to break free from. Content to stay in the other’s embrace, both you and Peter never felt safer, or more satisfied. And everything was perfect. 

[davidlikesguys02]

The Teacher And The Best-friend

Word count: 1,330

Summary: you and your hot teacher Mr. Rogers have hot passionate sex. But you get caught by Ms. Carter. What will happen next between you, Steve and Peter?

Warnings: Teacher x male student, smut, you and Peter are high school senior’s, gay unprotected sex, blowjob Steve receiving, rimming male reader receiving, Steve calls you baby and sweetheart, you get caught by Peggy, angst at the end, hinting at possible Peter x male reader.

M/n: male name

GIF’S not mine

You watch as Mr. Rogers walks around the class handing out everyone their test, he finally walks towards your desk and hands you your test “thank you” you look at your test and see *see me after class* written in red. “Great” you lay your head on your desk and you put your test into your backpack. Once Mr. Rogers finally finished passing out the test he walked towards the front of the class.

“I want everyone to read chapter 8 through 9, he will be discussing it tomorrow during class” the bell finally rings signaling the end of the school day. You watch as everyone gets their stuff and begins to exit the class. “Let’s go M/n” you smile at Peter “I’ll catch up to you” he smiles back at you “alright” after a few minutes the classroom is finally empty.

You watch as Mr. Rogers is on his desk grading some papers “Mr. Rogers, what did you want to talk about?” “M/n I’m afraid you might fail the semester if you are not able to bring your grade up” “I know” you look down at your hands “but I am really trying, I just have been distracted a lot lately” you feel his gaze on you. You slowly look up and meet his eyes “is everything alright at home?” You nod “it’s not that”

You watch as he gets up and walks around the desk and walks closer towards you “you can talk to me about anything M/n” you look into his blue eyes and walk closer towards him your body’s only inches away. You notice his hand on top of his desk and slowly touch his fingers with your own, “M/n we shouldn’t do this” you walk closer towards him “i know but I can’t help it”

You feel as he wraps his arms around your body pulling you closer towards him, he finally crashes his lips on yours. You close your eyes and moan into each other's mouths, you finally pull away from the kiss and catch your breath “Mr. Rogers” “call me Steve” you lower your hand down his shirt and begin to unbutton his pants.

“Someone’s eager” you let out a small laugh “I’ve wanted you since the moment I first walked into your class Steve” he grips your hair tightly and pulls it back “I’ve wanted you too M/n” you finally slip your hand into his underwear and begin to play with his growing cock.

He lowers his face into your neck and begins to suck on it, “mhm” he pulls off your neck after a few seconds. You slowly lower yourself into your knees and look up at him, you slap his cock on your tongue and begin to slowly take him into your mouth.

You watch as he grips the desk with his hands, you feel as if your nose is tickled by his hair. You keep his cock in your mouth for a couple of seconds before slowly pulling away. He lifts your chin up so your looking at him “fuck baby come here” he lifts you up and lays you on his desk, he pulls you into a kiss.

You feel as he begins to unbutton your pants, he pulls away from the kiss and helps you remove your pants and underwear. He grabs your legs and pulls them apart displaying your pink hole at him “fuck M/n” you watch as he slowly leans in and you begin to feel his warm tongue lick your rim before slowly inserting in tongue in you, you let out a small moan.

“Mmmm such a delicious hole” you feel as he begins to insert two of his fingers into your hole “Mhhm Steve I need you” “I know sweetheart, but I don’t want to hurt you” you feel as he hits your prostate with the tip of his fingers making you see stars “oh god right there” you begin to feel as he begins to attack your prostate with his fingers.

“You feel good?” You nod “well you’re about to feel a lot better” he removes his fingers from your hole causing you to let out a small whine. He grips your legs and slowly lowers them in his shoulders “you ready?” “Yesss” he begins to insert his cock into your needy hole.

“Shit your still so fucking tight” you throw your hands around his neck holding him tightly “feel..so…fulll” you watch as a smile creeps into his face “you feel so good wrapped around my cock baby” “Steve…please..move” “are you sure?” You nod “use your words” “please fuck me Steve”

You feel as he begins to move his hips, you bite your lip loving how he felt inside of you. You close your eyes as Steve slowly thrust into you, after a few minutes he begins to pick up the speed to his thrust. You begin to let out low moans “shit baby I love the sounds you make” he leans down and connects your lips in a heated kiss. You feel as his tongue begins to explore your mouth.

You feel as he pulls away from the kiss, you throw your head back and begin to arch your back “Ste..ve….I’m…clo..se” you feel as he begins to grip the base of your cock “not yet M/n I want us to cum together” you begin to sink your nails into Steve’s shoulders as he constantly hits your prostate with his cock.

After a few minutes his thrust begin to get sloppy, he leans down and begins to whisper into your ear “fuck I’m gonna cum” “me too” “where do you want it?” “In..side…me…ple..se” he delivers one final thrust into you letting out a loud moan. You shit your eyes tightly as you finally cum all over your and Steve’s stomach.

“Your mine now” you feel as you begin to smile “im only yours” he begins to slowly remove his cock from your loose hole “fuck what a pretty sight” you watch as he begins to pull his pants back on. You watch as he takes his underwear and begins to clean the leaking cum that begins to come out of your hole.

“Thanks” “no problem” you sit up and begin to get dressed again. Once you're fully dressed again you look at him and smile and you pull him into a kiss, you hear a knock at his door and the two of you quickly pull away. You watch as Ms. Carter walks into the classroom, you watch as she inspects the room and notices your messy hair and the papers on the floor. “What is going on here?” “I can explain Peggy”

You watch as she exits the classroom “shit, I’ll be right back M/n” you nod. You watch as he leaves the classroom, you begin to walk around the classroom scared of what might happen. After a few minutes Steve walks back into the classroom “what happened” “I’m resigning in the morning” “what” you try to comfort him but he slowly walks back “I think you should go M/n”

You look at him confused “alright” you go to your desk and grab your backpack. You watch as he begins to clean up the mess that both of you made, you walk out of his classroom shutting the door. You begin to walk down the hallway as tears begin to collect in your eyes.

You walk past Peter not noticing him “Hey M/n, wait up” you begin to slow down “are you alright” “I don’t want to talk about it” he looks at you and pulls you into a hug “you don’t have to talk About it if you don’t want to” you begin to cry into his shoulder “thanks Pete” “anything for my best friend, how about we go for some pizza”You wipe away the tears from your face “pizza sounds great”

[maybe-moonchild]

CHAPTER 3

summary: in which there is a sleepover and you learn that adrenaline really clouds your judgment. WC: 4.4k

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ

Neither of you move for a really long time. Maybe it isn’t all that long, you can’t really tell as you stand on the corner in silence until Fisk’s limo is long gone. Neither of you can figure out the right thing to say at a time like this. 

Peter finally settles on, “Are you alright?” 

You can’t quite tell what you are feeling right now. 

No. Really. You really have no idea. 

Are you mad? Okay, a little bit. It wasn’t like you had a blast, but, you’re also not dead. Then you remember that there was a gun pressed to your temple so maybe you are actually mad. Is it at him? Not quite. Peter hadn’t been the one to do it but it was his fault that it all happened. Except… he didn’t know this was going to happen the one night in eight years that you’re around. You know that you both haven’t been friends in a long time but your mouth still tastes sour at the thought of why he would get involved in the first place. And now, a crime lord knows your face and you name-

“Fine,” you breathe out once you manage to snap yourself out of your spiraling thoughts. You study the shallow puddles of rain that have congregated between the cracks in the sidewalk. Tension and the recent rain makes the air thick, filling your lungs and both alleviating and suffocating you. 

“Are you sure?”

He’s doing it again, stepping closer, tilting his head to try and catch your eye. He just wants to see you. He just wants you to look at him so he stops holding his breath.

You comply, peeking up at him through the corner of your eye. “I’m sure.” To emphasize your point, you try to give him a smile. It is pathetically awful, but he finally inhales. “I’m okay. A bit shaken up, but…”

Terrified? Frustrated? Livid? Hurt?

“Fine,” you shrug, finding that the word accurately describes how you are feeling. Not good, not bad; not injured, not… not shaken up. Just… fine.

He hums as he considers your answer, eyes flicking around your face and deciding if he believes you ornot. His proximity makes you want to step back if it means that he’ll stop scrutinizing you. 

At least you weren’t the only one unsure of what to say; choking on words that so desperately wanted to claw their way out of your throat. You swallow, forcing them back down where they will hopefully remain for another eight years. He seems to be considering something as you both stare at his shoe, scuffing the cement. 

“You can stay here tonight,” he offers quietly. Peter’s hands are shoved so deep in his pockets that it makes his shoulders hover by his ears. You shake your head even if it does sound like an inviting option. The alternative was trekking all the way back to your apartment at 2 in the morning and praying that Katie wasn’t still up, or god forbid, hosting an after party with Flash. 

“I really ought to head back.” Peter deflates even more when you step back. Space is good. Space between you two was good. It was normal. Having an unspoken distance wedged between Peter and you was your normal for the past eight years. 

“Oh.”

Do not look at him. If you have to see his kicked puppy look, you’ll cave. You always fucking caved when he pulled that out, intentional or not. It wasn’t like you were turning him down because you were mad- or maybe you were; you didn’t know anymore. 

“I should get going.” You attempt another pathetic excuse of a smile in the hopes to reassure him that you are perfectly fine. “I think I just really need to shower and sleep…” When the first rain drop pelts against your forehead, you trail off. You reach up, swipe at it and frown at the moisture on your fingertips. Within a matter of moments, it’s down pouring. Fat drops of water exploding on both of your heads and clothes, threatening to soak through your shoes and drenching your hair. 

“Oh come the fuck on,” you curse under your breath, throwing up a hand to shield your eyes. You glare up at the sky and think profanities at the universe for, somehow, making this worse.

Peter stays quiet as he watches you, squinting and ducking his head even though you are both getting drenched. He wants you to come to your senses and agree to at least come inside so you can call a cab from there. 

When it becomes clear you have no intention of being reasonable, he decides to give in. “Let’s go,” he sighs incredulously, hand wrapping around the crook of your elbow to gently tug you along. You don’t put up a fight and the both of you pick up the pace until you’re running to the front doors. 

Neither of you really says anything as you follow him through his apartment complex. Water drips from your hair and clothes, shoes squeaking against the old, cracked tile. There is a musty smell in the hallway that just intensifies the old age of the building. 

At least his actual unit has been renovated in the past 5 decades. 

Peter and Ned’s shared apartment is one of the better ‘guy’ apartments you have been in. It’s relatively clean; floors and surfaces devoid of garbage and a few dishes in the sink that are likely from only earlier today. There's a few posters on the walls, protected by cheap, simple frames but are actually quite cool looking overall. The plants clearly belong to Ned because Peter had been a notorious plant killer as a child; always forgetting about their existence until the leaves were long brown. 

You stand awkwardly by the front door as he ushers you in, his wet hightops landing on the doormat. Your fingers twist and pull at the hem of your dress in the attempt to give yourself something to do as you look around. It’s easier to see more details after he flips on a lamp, dim light stretching the shadows peaking around furniture. 

You should be crying, you think. You should be freaking out, panicking because you’d had a gun to your head and Wilson Fisk knows your name. 

Instead, you’re too busy wondering if there is a single photo of you hung up in this apartment amongst the others. 

Probably not. 

“I just uh… couldn’t leave you out there,” Peter sighs, “Do you need anything? Something to drink? Eat?”. He runs his hands through his damp hair once he’s discarded his wet jacket on the dining room chair. At least he’s no longer watching you. Instead, he gracefully slips into the kitchen and reaches for two glasses hidden in the cabinet. His back is towards you, muscles tight under his shirt-

You clear your throat and look away when your face burns. “Uh, no. I'm good.”

Peter glances over his shoulder at where you are still tensely standing in his entry way. You’re too distracted by his apartment to do anything more than try and look for glimpses of the boy you once knew. 

When you don’t move any closer, he slowly comes to you. Each hand is adorned with a glass of tap water. You do look up at him this time, fingers still twisting nervously in the bottom of your dress which easily gives away how uncomfortable you feel. Both of you are too worried about the other not wanting to be here. 

“Are you warm enough?” Somehow, his voice is even softer, tentative and gentle like he’s expecting you to suddenly freak out. Hell, you still might. “You should change. I can grab you something?”

Peter raises an eyebrow at you and extends the glass. It’s so stupidly cliche that you nearly flinch when your cold fingers brush his and you want to beat yourself up. You take it in your hands but don’t actually think you can drink it because of how unsettled your stomach feels. 

It’s funny how similar and different he manages to look at the same time. Same messy brown hair that he never cared to brush, same big brown doe eyes, and same awkward but witty demeanor. 

How much do you really know about Peter Parker?

Shaking the thought from your head, you finally find the ability to speak. “Yeah. That’d be great. Thanks.” Your smile is still half hearted but it's what you can manage at the moment.

By the time you step out of his bathroom, donning a pair of his sweatpants that bunch up around your ankles and an old Midtown High School T-Shirt, you feel a little better. Not much, but it’s a start. Anything is better than your damp dress and jacket. Plus, his clothes smell like him-

Not like that matters. 

You find Peter sitting on the couch. He’s wearing his own dry clothes, elbows resting on his knees while his leg bounces anxiously. The second he hears you approach, his head snaps up and his eyes find yours. 

“Thanks,” you murmur. You decide to slowly lower yourself onto the opposite of the couch before glancing at him. He gives you a timid smile that seems more hopeful than forced. Peter just can’t stop shifting in his spot like he can’t make himself comfortable. It’s probably because of the eight years of history hanging over your heads. 

He breaks the silence first. “It’s almost three in the morning. We should both probably get some rest-”

“Why did you steal the files?”

If the question surprises him, he doesn’t show it. In fact, he looks more disappointed than anything, like he’d been hoping that you would have let it go until at least the morning. But no, because here you are, staring down at the floor and chewing on the inside of your cheek in the hopes that you don’t fill the silence. Your eyes remain on the floor, boring holes into the faded wood like you’d somehow find the answers you were looking for in the cracks

The Peter Parker you knew didn’t steal. Didn’t steal candy bars from bodegas or lunch money from weaker kids. 

The one sitting beside you, so close that you could touch him if you raised your hand. That Peter Parker, stole files from Manhattan crime lords and didn’t flinch when someone waved a gun around or forced him into a limo. 

Hanging his head is a good way to hide his guilty expression. He mirrors you in looking for an answer hidden in the floor. Jokes on him, it’s not there.

“Because it was the right thing to do. People would benefit from that information being out in the open rather than in the hands of a criminal.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” you snap back. This time you actually do turn to face him but he won’t look up. Not when he can barely handle the feel of your stare.

You continue after running a hand through your damp hair. “I mean why? What on earth were you doing that put you in the position in the first place to take it? And why did Fisk talk to you like he knew you? And why were you not freaking out?” “I was too freaking out-” “Oh please, you barely even flinched the entire time there was a gun being pointed at you.”

Peter wants to protest but quickly snaps his mouth closed. You’re right. Having a gun trained on him was pretty much a weekly (probably more) occurrence. Having a gun trained on you? Oh, yeah. That easily makes the top five worst moments of his life. 

His leg hasn’t stopped bouncing up and down, teeth chewing at his lip like he's chewing on what to say. What kind of lie can he come up with when you have to be the hardest person to lie to. Part because he feels bad but also because you can always know when he does. 

“I was just being nosy… and I wanted to see what he had.” Peter shrugs dismissively. The second he manages to look up, the glare you're fixing him with makes him immediately jerk his head away. 

Right there. 

Right there, you have your answer. 

That he is never going to give you one. Not something that is the truth. Nothing that gives you any insight into why anything that happened tonight happened. 

Disappointment slams into you so hard that you want to choke on it. You can’t even bring yourself to look at him. The same way you felt at the age of fourteen, back when you’d try and approach him in the hall between classes. How he’d blow off your attempts at making conversation with one word answers before hurrying away. 

Blowing you off, again. Yeah, this felt a lot like that. 

You drop your head into your hands which catches his attention. As the adrenaline continues to wear off, you can't tell if you want to cry, scream, or all the above. 

“Peter,” you say slowly, the drawn out words quiet and strained. “I had a gun to my head.”

That reminder is enough to make him wince. The last thing he wants to do is brush over the severity of what happened. He leans forward, staring at you when he hears the pleading in your voice. All he wants to do is lean forward and grab your hand but he doesn’t. 

It feels wrong at this point. He’d hurt you enough tonight.

“I know.”  Another apology almost falls from his mouth until he decides to suck in a shaky breath instead. “I know that and I’m so… I am so sorry.”

What do you really know about Peter Parker?

“I know that,” you sigh in defeat and sit up. You know how sorry he is. That he’s only begun to beat himself up over it. Whether or not he was sorry about the whole thing was never a question.

You and Peter were clearly exhausted and tensions were running high. Even if he was used to the whole Spider-Man thing where he swung around New York, saving the day and finding himself in copious amounts of dangerous situations, he wasn’t used to you. Having your presence back in his life would take some getting used to. 

If you even were back in his life after how tonight went. 

“You have always been the guy that stands up for what’s right.” There’s only a few inches between your fingertips and his. While you stare at the floor, he’s staring at your hand. “And no matter how hard you got knocked down, you always got back up. It was something I've always loved about you but… stealing from a guy like Fisk? Putting yourself in harm's way like that?”

You can’t even think about it. 

“I’ve gotten a lot of knocks,” he says with a solemn chuckle that he doesn’t feel. “A lot.” It was an attempt to lighten the mood but it just makes you suck in a breath. The smile falls right off Peter’s face, not like he would even call it a smile. 

After a long moment, he tries again. “I’m still the same. I promise.” He’s not sure if he really believes it himself. His thumb brushes your knuckle and you pull your hand away to shove your damp head off your forehead. 

“You are but you aren’t.” There’s too  much exhaustion coursing through your veins for you to be angry any longer. Now that the adrenaline is gone, it's impossible to be mad but that doesn’t mean you won’t be in a matter of hours. 

It’s at this moment that you realize that he didn’t even consider calling the cops tonight. Worse, neither have you, until now. Why did calling the cops not cross your mind until now? That should've been the first thing- That’s a stupid bullshit problem for tomorrow because your head might explode.

“Look, it’s late and- can we just go to sleep? I still have to meet my parents in the morning.” Peter nods at your request and pushes up from his seat. “I’ll just sleep here on the couch. I can just head out in the morning.”

Peter shakes his head vehemently. “No. I’ll sleep on the couch. I took you away from that party and put you in danger. Just let me have this.”

Normally, you would have at least argued to prolong the inevitability of giving in and letting him take his own couch. You just can’t tonight. An exhausted sound falls from your mouth, knuckles digging into your eye sockets as you stand. 

Both of you are relieved when you follow him to his room. 

Once he flips on the little lamp, you're able to take in the space. The bedroom screams Peter Parker. You can pretty much take inventory of all of the things you’d seen in his room at May’s. Your eyes find the collections of photos on the walls and, again, you wonder if your face is hidden up there. 

“Are you sure?” you ask from the doorway. He glances back at you, his face brightening ever so slightly. 

“Yes.” He replieds quietly, sitting on the edge of his bed so he can pull back a corner for you to climb in. It takes you another long shared look before you give in for good. You take his spot as he stands, climbing onto the sheets before he tugs the blankets over your legs. 

Neither of you can think of something more to say. The rain is still coming down hard, rattling the window pane in his old apartment. He reaches over to the bedside table and presses a button and the light turns off. In the dark, he feels a bit more secure. 

“Try and sleep.” Peter whispers, though it feels too much like a plea for him to feel good about. He didn’t deserve you.

He’s going to leave. You don’t actually want him to go.

You grab his forearm before you even realize what you're doing, his muscles solid under your palm. For a long moment, it’s painfully quiet. So painfully quiet and you know you have to say something. He’s waiting for you to say something. 

“Can you just-” you start, hesitating and letting out a huff. The words feel stuck in your throat. Once you say them, you can never take them back. “Can you just stay? Like when we were kids.”

Peter blinks. It’s the most simple thing you could ask. You’re not asking him to tell you what he’s been up to. 

You’re not asking for answers.

You’re just asking him to stay. 

All he wants to do is to stay. He doesn’t need any more prompts than that. 

“Yes,” he whispers softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “I can do that.” Your head hangs in relief before you scoot over to make room for him. The bed dips under his weight as you both settle onto your sides, covers tucked up under your chins. Flashes of lightning illuminate his face and you half expect him to suddenly be nine years old again, soaking wet, and missing a tooth. 

Just like as kids, when you’d sneak in each other's windows when you couldn’t sleep. 

“Thank you.” 

A soft breeze blows in the window in the dead of night, and Peter doesn’t stop you as you shift closer and he smells you. You smell like that shampoo you used to use on his hair when you were twelve. When he showed up at your window with a pout, streaked with dirt, and burrs tangled in his hair because he fell out of tree. 

Your head is facing his way, and the soft exhale of thanks you murmur catches his breath in his throat. He didn’t realize just how much he missed the feeling of laying next to you. 

A flash of lightning makes him blink, as if to convince himself that he’s really here and not dreaming. 

“Like we were kids?” he asks hesitantly, laying on his back and lifting up his arm. You nod and decide that nothing needs to be worried about until tomorrow morning. Clearly, you’re traumatized from tonight and cannot be held accountable for your actions. Scooting closer, you tuck yourself against his side. Your head finds his chest and he doesn’t hesitate to pull you closer. 

Peter knows you belong there. 

Just him and you. 

For the first time tonight, you finally feel warm after being caught in the downpour. There’s only a few inches of bare skin shared between you two from where his arm is wrapped around you. Your hair tickles his cheek and he rests his chin on the top of your head. It’s the most comfortable either of you have felt in a very long time. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

You nod, his heartbeat palpable under your head. It’s you that moves first, reaching up to trace the seam of the collar of his shirt. That seems to give him the courage to let his hand trail up to the back of your head. His other hand rests limply on his stomach, fingers resting so close to your own that he was itching to close the distance.

His thumb traces the nape of your neck, his heart rate picking up with each second. 

This was always how it went with you. So subtle, so quick, but you always noticed it. 

And now, as he thinks back on your shared life in those quiet few moments, he regrets every moment he’s spent away from you in the last eight years. 

But you’re different now; the years apart have changed you. Just like they’d changed him too. 

“Do you remember when-” Peter pauses, his fingers still playing with your hair in the dark. He’s never been so thankful for invisibility than this moment. “When we were seniors… In Flash’s yard at that party he had for graduation-”

“Why are you asking this,” you breath out so sharply that it cuts through his words. When he goes quiet, you can feel him still from where you’re still tucked against his side. Your head lifts up off his chest to look at him, unflinching when you're both nose to nose. 

You can’t, for the life of you, figure out why he would want to bring this up. Why would either one of you want to relive that moment?

You hate this moment.

You hate this moment so much that just the mention of it is like a slap to the face. 

Peter was a teenager. So were you. Neither of you had spoken- really spoken, since freshman year. You shoving through Midtown High’s senior class, all crammed in Flash’s house, trying to catch up as he slipped outside. You were trying and he was shutting you down. Things just kept escalating. The solo cup spilling strawberry vodka and sprite on the grass because your hands are occupied with clinging onto his shoulders. Your back pressing into the siding, legs looped around his waist and his tongue swiping against your bottom lip-

“Because I…” he pauses, unsure of the words that need to come out. They’re on his tongue, but he’s not sure he can actually speak them. “I just…”

Because I want to kiss you right now.

It’s too dark for you to make out much of his expression even that close up. Yours is hurt, you can feel the emotion settling on your face like a stupid, fucking billboard with your thoughts. Even in the dark, he can read you better than anyone else. 

“You just…��

A flash of lightning illuminates the room  momentarily, leaving you to wonder if this moment is just a figment of your imagination. It can’t be; you just might die if this wasn’t really happening. You don’t pull away from the intensity of it like you should before he can catch up to the moment. 

He could probably lean down right now, and you’d pull him in.

So, he does just that.

This is the third time you’ve kissed Peter. 

It’s nothing like the first time, when you were both eleven and didn’t even know what kissing even was.. All chaste and sudden, nervous giggles and never spoken about again. 

Or when you were thirteen. Awkward and in front of too many of your classmates at the hands of spin the bottle on a dirty hotel floor. 

This? This is just the two of you. You and him and the dark. The rain drumming against the window muffles the world around you to the point that you aren’t quite sure that anything else exists. It doesn’t need to.

One of Peter’s hands tangles in your hair, tipping your head back to deepen the kiss. The other makes a home on your waist. You cup his jaw, pulling him closer and kissing him harder. If you think, you’ll stop. God. You really don’t want to stop. 

He kisses you with every ounce or emotion he can manage to pack into him. He kisses you like he’s known you his whole life, but never actually touched you before. He kisses you with all the missed years, the tears and the loneliness, the guilt, the regret, and the love. 

And as he kisses you, his hand snakes down your body and he pulls you closer. 

Everything is silent, save for the rain tapping on the windows and your ragged breaths together.

You and Peter fall asleep that way, pressed together and tangled in the sheets. At some point, your kisses turn slow and tired, eyes closed from exhaustion even if you really didn’t care about seeing. Neither of you attempted to move away as you happily accepted unconsciousness with your limbs intertwined. 

Peter had always been a heavy sleeper. 

It’s what makes it so easy to sneak out of his apartment the next morning without waking him. But… maybe, you  also did it because then you would have to acknowledge... You didn’t know what you should have been acknowledging. 

So you slip out the door, leaving nothing behind but his folded clothes, a note thanking him for not letting you get killed, and the smell of your shampoo on his pillows.

[imagines--galore]

idk Peter being toxic and reader and him both know that he’s bad for this relationship but it’s smutty? it could also end in fluff

Pairing: TASM! Peter Parker x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: M. Romance. Angst. Fluff. A bit of smut, allusions to sex, and minor drinking so those under 18 please turn away. A/N: Ok yes, I live for these kind of requests! Also I think this fic got away from me a little bit. Woops? Also, THIS was a roller coaster to write!

What had started out as a casual one time thing, had quickly escalated into something that would not be considered healthy.

Peter had been grieving, was still probably grieving, the loss of his girlfriend. Gwen Stacy. His first love.

You had been mourning the loss of your best friend. The girl you had known since you were in kindergarten together. Had grown up with. Whom you considered a sister and told everything to.

Seems like none of those feelings and years of friendship mattered when you slept with Peter the first time a month after her death.

You felt guilty everyday. Simply recalling the memory of that first night made you feel twisted up and sick inside. You were betraying her, betraying Gwen by sleeping with her boyfriend.

Former boyfriend, your mind had tried to reason with you on more then one occasion. That did not matter, your heart had argued back, she had still loved him, she said so herself.

As you sat in your apartment, nursing a warm cup of tea between your cold hands, your treacherous mind drifted to the fateful night. How you had been crying into your pillow, trying your best to get some sleep. You had a long day of work tomorrow, and yet sleep alluded you. Flashes of Gwen's smiling and laughing plagued your mind, causing you to close your eyes, wishing for those images to go away. They were only causing you heartache.

But then you heard someone, right outside your window. You sat up, and once you recognized that silhouette through the drawn curtains of your window, you quickly threw it open, allowing Peter to stumble in.

You could smell the alcohol on his breath, barely caught him when he almost fell over. You questioned him, asking if he was alright and what was he thinking swinging around while drinking. He could've gotten seriously hurt. He wasn't full on drunk, but he was a little inebriated at the very best.

But once he met your gaze, and you were able to see the sheer sorrow and despair in his eyes, you stopped in your questioning. He whispered Gwen's name before all but falling against you, sobbing into your shoulder.

You felt your own tears sting your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him and held him closer, needing to feel his warmth just as he needed to feel yours. He kept whispering Gwen's name and how he could save her, how he had failed to save the girl he loved. As an act of comfort you pressed a kiss to his forehead, before moving to brush your lips against his cheek.

What you hadn't anticipated was him moving his head at the exact moment. Just enough to allow your lips to meet his lips. Shocked, you quickly pulled back, stuttering an apology as your cheeks reddened and you moved to step out of his embrace. But he stopped you, bringing you back to him. He was looking at you now, and you knew his heart was beating just as fast as yours given how you had your hands pressed up against his chest.

Neither of you knew who moved first, but a moment later your lips clashed together in a flurry of teeth and tongues as your hands began to explore one another. Clothes were pulled off, two bodies fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and heady kisses. There was nothing romantic, soft or slow about what happened next.

It was raw.

Emotional.

Desperate.

Your lips continued to meet, tongues battling against one another, hands never stilling as the two of you explored the other's body. There was no gentleness to it either. It was scrapping nails and gripping the other with an almost bruising strength. Never once did either of you open your eyes, perhaps because deep down you knew that once you did, the moment would be over, and reality would come crashing down.

All you needed, what both of you needed, was some semblance of comfort. Of familiarity. A reminder that you weren't alone. Neither of you.

And when Peter pushed himself inside you, when he began to move against you, when you held on tighter and buried your face into his neck to bite and nip at the sensitive flesh, when he moaned deep and sensual against your ear, when you threw back your head and allowed the sweet sweet release to drown every coherent thought from both of your minds, you found.......peace.

As you came down from your high, Peter rolled away from on top of you. You had wrapped your blanket around your body, laying on your back and staring up at the ceiling as you slowly came back to your body, and realized what you had just done.

And perhaps you were feeling selfish, perhaps you were angry at Gwen for leaving you, or perhaps you were exhausted from that constant gut-wrenching pain that crushed your soul, but you couldn't bring yourself to regret your actions. Peter had given you a few moments where you didn't feel like your heart was breaking. And you knew, he had found comfort in your body as well.

Though it didn't stop that feeling of guilt prickle under your very skin as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

                                             ————————–

That had been almost six months ago.

Since then, whenever Gwen's loss would get too much for either of you, Peter more so then you, the two of you would sought out the company of the other.

And while it did provide the two of you with some semblance of comfort and peace for a few moments, your friendship turned into a dry husk.

Before that Gwen's death, you and Peter had been decent friends. You had always been a third wheel between the two lovebirds, but you didn't mind. You were happy for your friend, and Peter was a great guy. And the two of you shared a passion for photography. Now? For almost a year, you hadn't spoken to one another. Even during sex there was barely any verbal exchange, unless one would count sounds of pleasure and approval. Even after sex things were quiet.

Once the act was done, you two would either lay on your back, or turn your backs to each other. And if it had been a particularly tiring day, you would sleep together. Otherwise one of you would put your clothes on and leave.

No greeting, no goodbyes.

And it was tearing you apart.

Tears lined your eyes and this time you didn't bother wiping them away. Pushing aside the now cold tea, you buried your head in your arms placed atop the kitchen island and cried. With every sob your shoulders shook.

You cried for Gwen.

You cried for Peter.

You cried for yourself.

You cried until you had no tears left, but you didn't move from your position.

                                             ————————–

A gentle hand on your shoulder was what shook you awake. Your head snapped up, eyes blinking to clear away the sleep and remaining tears as you did. You found Peter looking down at you, at the look in his eyes seemed to drive a knife into your heart.

He hadn't seen you cry, and yet you had a feeling he had been there for a long time now.

"We need to talk." You said, your voice low and quivering as you looked up at him.

Silently, he nodded.

                                             ————————–

It was her first death anniversary, and you were beginning to feel like your old self again.

You stood in front of her grave, holding a bouquet of beautiful yellow roses. The color symbolized two things, the deep friendship the two of you had shared, and the forgiveness you sought from your friend. Slowly sliding to the ground to sit cross-legged in front of the headstone, you heaved a deep sigh.

"Well its been quite the year Gwenie. My first one without you and its been so strange. Not having you here." As you spoke, you untied the ribbon that was tied around the bouquet, allowing the flowers to separate in your lap. "I did manage to get the apartment we both had our eye on, of course I have to work two jobs now, to pay rent, but its okay, its keeping me busy." You set down a flower on the grass in front of the tombstone.

Tears pricked your eyes but you continued. "And you won't believe it, but I finally managed to get around to watching The Lord of the Rings. I understand now why you begged me to all those years. Though its unfair of you to have called dibs on Aragorn without giving me a fair chance." A small laugh fell from your lips as you laid down another flower.

"Your mom and brothers are alright. They moved away a couple months after you went. I still talk to them over the phone. Your mom actually asked me to come and pick up some of the stuff we shared over the years. Says you would want me to have it. Though she doesn't know I already called dibs on your blue sweater." Another tearful laugh, followed by a flower and a tears that dripped down your cheeks.

You sighed softly. "I.....started to see a therapist. I wasn't....right after you left Gwenie. And I did something bad. But I've been working on it." Laying two more roses, you played with the petals of the next one.

"And I wanted to apologize." Here your voice trembled as your raised your eyes to the name that was engraved in the grey stone. "For what I did with Peter, I just.......I was just so lost and sad with you gone Gwenie. And he was just there. He....understood." You shook your head. "And I know that is a lame excuse for what I did, and I know how much you loved him, and I am so so so so sorry Gwenie. I'm so sorry." Aside from the flower you held in your hand, you laid down every last one of them on the ground.

You sat there quietly for a good few minutes before speaking. "I haven't met him or seen him for months now. We finally decided to just sit down and talk. And we agreed that what we were doing wasn't going to help either of us in the long run. So we stopped."

A deep sigh, one that echoed from the very depth of your soul fell from your lips as you tilted your head back and looked to the beautiful blue skies. "I hope you will forgive me Gwenie." You whispered, your head coming back down to press a sweet kiss to the final flower you held.

You stood up, leaning down to set the flower atop the gravestone. Your fingers lingered there, caressing the cold stone lovingly.

"She wouldn't want you to feel that way you know?"

You jumped slightly at the voice, your head whipping around to see Peter standing there with his hands in his coat pockets. He wasn't carrying any flowers, so you guessed that the ones already there were from him. You had suspected that perhaps it had been Mrs Stacy.

Slowly he approached you, so he could stand beside you, his eyes never leaving the headstone. "I remember when her father died and she was grieving. She was just so sad all the time." You nodded, recalling how devastated she had been after Mr. Stacy's death.

"It was actually the first time we slept together." Your turned your gaze towards Peter, lips parted in surprise. Gwen had never told you that. Peter sighed. "She just looked so sad and I couldn't do anything about it and it just happened. She felt guilty afterwards, saying she had taken advantage of me or something like that, but I told her to not even think like that. That I was glad I could comfort her in some way." He finally turned his gaze towards you, a small understanding smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

You swallowed thickly, pushing back the tears as you returned the smile. "Maybe we could comfort each other as well. As friends." You offered, your heart beating fast in your chest. You had missed Peter, had missed your friend. Maybe this was the do-over the both of you needed.

Reaching out, he grasped your hand tightly, prompting you to smile at the gravestone in front of you. The wins blew softly around you, and though you knew it was not possible, as you closed your eyes, you swore you could hear Gwen's hand slipping into your other hand as you stood side by side.

                                             ————————–

Your eyes blinked open, eyelashes fluttering as you fought the heaviness of sleep from them. Slowly, you blinked them open, snuggling deeper into your warm blankets.

Only to be made aware of the person sleeping beside you.

The scent that enveloped you could only belong to one person, and you smiled as you snuggled closer to him, feeling his arm wrap around your waist as he pulled you closer in his sleep.

You and Peter had spent months building your friendship once again. The two of you had been one another's rock during some very trying times, and now it had been nearly a year and a half. A year and a half of friendship that had slowly started to shift to become something more.

He had asked you out on a date, wanting to do things properly this time. And though you had been hesitant at first, an accidental mention to Mrs. Stacy had made you say yes, after the older woman had urged you to not let a guy like Peter get away.

Your first date had been a month ago. Your first kiss as a couple had happened a week after. Your first night together had been last night.

It had been the complete opposite of what the two of you had shared all those months ago. Last night had been slow, sweet and loving. Every caress, every kiss, every look had been full of love and trust as the two of you had floated on a cloud of utter bliss and pleasure. And while you had never met one another's eyes previously, this time neither of you had looked away.

This time neither of you slept with your back to the other.

Neither of you left the bed before the other woke.

And as you felt Peter stir awake, saw him smile sleepily at you, his hair all mussed up from the night before, greeting you with a morning kiss, you allowed yourself to feel something you had not felt in a long long time.

Loved.

[prismuffin]

Toms Peter x black witch male reader ?,

maybe like a roof date where Peter conveniently forgets everything so reader saves the day? 🤭

A/n: Oooooo alright alright I'm down with this.

Best one yet

MCU!Peter Parker x black!male!witch!Reader

( summary: Peter was running late for your annual rooftop date causing him to forget everything he planned on bringing, but that's ok 'cause you've been meaning to spoil him more anyway )

warnings?: light swearing, mentions of magic and spells, witchcraft jokes,

f/c means favorite color

!-!more under the cut!-!

Peter cursed as he barely dodged a building, he was swinging rather quickly through the city. He'd gotten detention which held him back for about an hour after school which wasn't good because he has made plans to meet you afterwards. He stopped at home to change quickly before heading right back out to see you, hoping that his texts that he'd sent with his schools terrible internet had went through. With one final swing, he flipped onto the rooftop of a tall building, landing with a thud as he caught his breath. There you sat, your pretty dark skin looked stunning against the setting sun and he sighed, his eyes meeting yours. "I-I am so sorry I'm late! Mr. Harrington gave me detention and it completely threw my entire schedule off!" He rambled, taking off his mask as he neared your form, dropping to sit right beside you. "It's fine Peter I got your texts," You waved him off, scooting a bit closer to him to kiss his cheek in a greeting. He smiled at the affection, "where's the food?" You asked, and Peter's smile slipped off of his face. He groaned, shoving his face in his hands as he flopped onto his back. "I knew I was forgetting something." You heard him mumble from his hands before he lowered them to peek at you, who had moved so that you were now hovering over him. "Sorry Y/n...I was in such a rush to get here that I forgot everything.." You chuckled and shrugged, "It's alright Petey, I got this alright?" He quirked his brow, watching you as you stood up.

Shaking off your hypothetical nerves you shot Peter a wink before positioning your hands across each other. They glowed a dull f/c that brightened the longer your held their position. With a quick flip of your hand you'd conjured up a large blanket, pulling it from god knows where until the entire thing was set in your hands. "..woah..." Peter mumbled as you spread the blanket onto the concrete rooftop. "Your magic is so pretty Y/n," Peter scooted himself onto the newly placed blanket, spreading his fingers across the soft material that he assumed was cotton. Sitting across from him, you smiled, "Well you're gonna be seeing a lot more of it since you forgot everything~" You teased him and he sighed before apologizing again. "It's alright Pete, I'm just joking. At least this gives me an excuse to practice a few new spells." You dug through your bag, pulling out three crystals that Peter definitely didn't know the name of despite you ranting to him about the different types constantly. You placed them in a triangular formation before you began your second spell. Peter leaned in a bit closer, watching you with intent and curiosity as you started muttering what he could only assume is an incantation under your breath. Peter almost audibly laughed as he witnessed you pull out a wand from your bag, it's just so cliché that you'd have a wand though he knows better than to distract you while you're attempting a spell. Last time he did, you accidentally turned him into a talking frog. He shuddered at the memory, watching as your hands glowed that same f/c as before, the color making its way to the very tip of your wand. Your wand glowed especially bright as you aimed it down towards the crystals. Peter had to shut his eyes at the amount of light that had come from you.

Opening his eyes again, he stared in awe as full plates of fresh hot food, mostly pastas, were sat on the blanket along with what appeared to be sparkling cider. Glancing up he realized that f/c sparkles surrounded him, they were almost like floating stars. They twinkled, and when he touched one it only exploded into more little sparkles. His eyes snapped back to your form at the sound of pouring liquid, he blushed as you stared at him with sultry eyes, pouring the sparkling cider into the glass closest to him. " This took a lot out of me ya know, so please eat it all." He laughed, quickly covering his mouth to hide it as you switched to pouring a drink for yourself. "I will, it all looks really good! You didn't have to conjure all of this up I would've been fine with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches." He grabbed his utensils and started to dig in, his eyes widening at the taste of the food. "It's fine, I've been meaning to spoil you a bit more." You shrugged and he hummed, "This is so good! Oh my god it's like, the best lasagna I've ever tasted!" "The best?" "The best!" He swallowed and smiled, leaning over the blanket to place a quick kiss to your lips. You hummed at the feeling before digging into your meal yourself.

You both talked about anything and everything as you ate. The dark sky mixed with the glow of the f/c sparkles that surrounded you both only added to the romantic atmosphere. Reaching over, Peter grabbed one of your hands in his, lacing your fingers together as he stared at you with half lidded eyes. "You sure you didn't slip a love potion into this cider?" You rolled your eyes with a smile, "Peter, if I slipped you a love potion you'd be doing a lot more than just holding my hand right now." You smirked as he blushed a bit, a smile gracing his face as he shrugged. "Guess I just love you then," Your eyes softened at his words. He leaned over, placing a couple of kisses to your lips causing you to smile. "Thanks for the food, this date was amazing." He kissed you again and you hummed.

"Best one yet?"

"Best one yet."

----!----

( Hope I wrote this right! I kinda hate it idkkkk )

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are OPEN so feel free to request anything! Just make sure you check out my Request Info first!

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Masterlist

[1luna1lovegood1]

Pater Parker : have you heard the joke about the gaslighter?

Tony: no...

Peter parker: yeah, you have.

Tony stark: no i haven't.

Peter Parker : you've literally heard it already.

Tony stark: NO I HAVEN'T.

Peter parker : yes, you have.

Tony: no I haven’t

Peter : you're crazy.

[peterparkefeliciahardy]

Pater Parker and Felicia hardy 😍

[ddringo]

Chapter 5: Our love can’t die

“Well, well, well. Look who the monster brought.” Ajax’s voice is deep and angry, “A little Spider for me to play with.”

All the secrets of the world worth knowing

“You know I’m all for helping the little guy,” the Spider says, “But don’t you think there are better ways to do that, which doesn’t include…” Spider-man waves at Wade’s weapons belt.

“And miss out on 15-year-olds pissing themselves half to death?” Wade makes his voice sugar-sweet, pushing his way past the so-called hero. “Forget it!”

Spider-man drops down with an elegant flip and follows Wade, hot on his heels. Spider-man pulls them both to a stop, grasping Wade’s wrist. “You could do some good things, Wade. Become a real hero to those kids,” he nods back towards the skate park, the sound of teens shouting in the distance.

“Sorry kid, too busy to be a hero” Wade pulls free of Spidey’s grasp, tapping against his nonexistent watch, and keeps walking.

Heroes are idiots. Too proud of themselves and their alien invasion takedowns. Wade wasn’t going to fall into their trap. Even if Spider-man did look hella good in spandex.

***

The rewrite of Deadpool 1 that nobody asked for, but that I delivered anyways.

[titleleaf]

Physiognomic evidence was not just reserved for geniuses and the insane. As E. K. Chambers explains in his essay ‘Poetry and Pessimism’ (1892), the strains of modern life had ‘bitten their mark’ into the features of the general population: Flesh is ever but a transparent veil to spirit, and of this suffering we bear the plain sign upon our brows. It needs no wide knowledge of art to realise that the faces which Gainsborough painted differ notably in character and expression from those which fill the walls of a modern picture-gallery. The new type is as beautiful perhaps, more deeply intellectual, but certainly far more sad. It is scarcely fantastic to suggest that Leonardo’s ironically named La Gioconda, an alien to our great-grandmothers, is curiously at home among the women of our own generation. By the same spirit our philosophy is coloured. (368) Chambers clearly saw [Amy] Levy’s face as representative of this ‘new type’. Describing her as ‘modern to the core’ in his essay on A Minor Poet, he examines her face for evidence of her ‘secret’: One turns instinctively to the portrait facing the title-page to see what manner of woman she was who could write thus, but the secret is hardly revealed. There is a face of no special beauty, the brow and eyes burdened with a weight of thought, the lips set as if in some reticence of sorrow. Baffled rather than satisfied, one goes back to the poems, anxious if possible to win the mystery from themselves. […] Brief as these records are, it is yet possible to decipher in them some image of the personality by which they were dictated. (369) Drawing on Pater, Chambers portrays Levy as a Gioconda for the modern age; her ambiguous expression only hints at her ‘sorrow’: her lips are reticent, but her poems are voluble, offering an ‘image’ of the ‘personality’ that her portrait refuses the viewer

"Reframing Amy Levy: photography, celebrity, and posthumous representation", Sarah Parker

I really enjoyed this paper and it feels very relevant to my 19thc queer writers/"what's up with the New Women in Dracula" girlies (gn), though heads-up that it deals with some difficult subject matter, such as Levy's death from suicide and the antisemitism baked into physiognomy/late 19thc race science. I'm also really hyped to read Levy's The Romance Of A Shop.